Hens and Chickens (28 page)

“Wendell’s not usually like that, anyway,” Lila concluded, ineffectually.

But you can probably guess the reason behind Wendell’s apparent rudeness, my pips. Our old friend had spotted imminent danger – another fox in the hen house, so to speak – and he hastily made his way down across the road to where Mike Hobart was clearing brush in preparation for the next day’s picnic. A few quick words did the trick, and within five minutes of his abrupt exit, a second summons, much more demanding, could be heard at the
The Egg Ladies
shed door.

“Sorry,” said Lila. “That’s probably a customer to buy eggs; we sell a lot on weekends. It’ll only take a sec.”

Alas, alas! We know who was at the door!

Within moments, the two suitors for Lila Woodsum’s heart were standing face to face! And she was alone with them!

Chapter 26

Picnic at the Millett Rock

“This is awkward!” said Lila, as Mike Hobart and Ryan MacDonald glared at each other across the kitchen table like dogs squaring off over the same bone. The air was thick with testosterone. She grasped the back of her wooden chair with one hand and momentarily covered her eyes with the other hand, partially afraid of what might happen next but also in an attempt to muster her courage. Her heart was pounding and her hands trembled.

But, what did SHE have to be anxious about? She was doing nothing of which to be embarrassed or ashamed! Ryan was only here in Sovereign to make her a job offer and Mike was here—Why WAS Mike here? She peeked at the dirty, sweaty, bedraggled carpenter, who, having cleared brush all day was covered with pine pitch and balsam needles and smelled like the floor of a Maine forest. A small twig stuck out from a patch of matted hair on the back of his head.

Lila spotted the twig, and tittered. “This is too funny,” she said. “You look totally silly, the both of you! I wish you could see yourselves—acting like two roosters!”

Hearing Lila’s words and tone, MacDonald wavered, hoping his opponent would back down first. But Mike Hobart was not about to surrender. It was one thing for him to wait patiently on the sidelines, as Lila had begged, giving her time to untangle her emotional issues. But he could not – would not – sit idly by while another man moved into his territory! Surely she could not expect him to do
that
!

Hobart, our steady, handsome hero, was an incredibly patient man, as we’ve discovered during the course of this tale. But he
was
human after all. Hobart completely ignored Lila altogether and continued to glower at his opponent!  

Faced with such ferocity, MacDonald surrendered the field. He relaxed his stiff stance, and stuck out his hand in a friendly fashion. “Ryan MacDonald,” he said. “I worked with Lila at Perkins & Gleeful in Boston. The company Vice President sent me up here to make her another job offer.”

Hobart accepted the proffered hand, and squeezed punishingly. Although two inches shorter than MacDonald, he was much more muscular in build. “Mike Hobart,” he said, simply; as though the name alone would suffice to explain the significant nature of his relationship with Lila and thus his territorial behavior.

Lila rolled her eyes. “Men!” she lamented, trying to pass the fiasco off with a laugh. Secretly, however, she was thrilled by his jealous protection.

“She’s not going back,” Hobart stated flatly. His icy blue eyes remained firmly locked on those of his rival. “No matter how much your company offers, she’s
not
going back.”

“Looks that way,” agreed MacDonald. He retrieved his hand from Hobart, shaking it slightly to get the blood flowing again.

“Hello, hello? I’m right here,” signaled Lila. “I can speak for myself.”

“Lila belongs in Maine!” Hobart growled at his rival.

“I guess she does,” said MacDonald.

“She’s
not
going back!”

“Nooo,” agreed MacDonald.

“Omigod, this is ridiculous,” said Lila. She sank down into her chair and burst into tears.

The most effective way for a woman to get a man’s attention is by weeping. Something in a man’s nature can’t resist offering aid to a suffering woman. Let a small child or an old person get run over by a car, and a man might feel badly, but he’ll offer up little more than: “Shoulda looked both ways before crossing road!” However, let a woman break down – especially a pretty woman – and a man will drop instantly to his knees.

This was the case with our hero, who awoke to Lila’s presence – horrified – as though each of her tears was an accusatory arrow piercing his heart. In truth, Hobart believed he had caused those tears by betraying his promise to give her space—and he actually
did
sink down to his knees before his astonished sweetheart! “I’m so sorry, darling!” he cried, remorsefully. He laid his dirty, tousled head in her lap and clasped her around the waist, almost weeping himself.

And before any of the three knew exactly what was happening, Lila’s tears evaporated and she found herself comforting the testosterone-burdened winner of the dog fight! “Shhhh,” she said, removing the offending twig from Mike Hobart’s hair and brushing the stubborn balsam spills from the back of his sweaty navy T-shirt. “Shhh, it’s OK, Mike. You’ve been working really hard lately!”

A heart-felt sob escaped him. “I don’t know what came over me! My Dad would be so ashamed of me!”

MacDonald, who was watching his rival’s emotional display in disbelief, suddenly smelled the coffee pot on the stove beginning to perk. “Want me to turn that down?” he suggested to Lila. “Looks like it’s about to boil over.”

She nodded, bemused. “That is so totally ironic,” she said.

And so somehow the roles got reversed all around. The strong became weak as water, the distressed became the comforter, and the one obvious guest in the house found himself acting as caretaker and host. While Lila soothed Hobart, MacDonald set the egg timer for five minutes, and searched through the cupboards until he found three coffee mugs. He placed them on the kitchen table, and liberated three teaspoons from the silverware drawer. He expertly located the sugar bowl, and secured a pitcher of cream from the fridge.

By the time Rebecca returned from Bangor with Amber and rushed into the kitchen (having been briefed by Wendell first), the odd trio was sitting around the table joking and laughing like … old friends! Rebecca, who had originally championed Ryan MacDonald’s romantic cause, was now girded up to do battle for the steady carpenter. Imagine her surprise when she discovered that Hobart himself had invited MacDonald to accompany them on their picnic to the Millett Rock the next day!

“Oh, my goodness!” Rebecca exclaimed. “I go away for an afternoon and the whole world gets turned upside down!” And then Rebecca, the sovereign of the kitchen, sank into the guest chair at the table and meekly accepted a cup of coffee from the hands of Ryan MacDonald, who had never even been in that house before today!

The transmutation and transcendence continued into Sunday, the day of the picnic to the Millett Rock. It was the kind of a day that folks in Maine live for, why some of us elect to stay here and suffer the long dreary winters instead of seeking warmer climes. Those of us who stay know that the agony of our sufferings only serves to magnify the exquisiteness of our spring and summer pleasures.

The sun rose with perfect clemency at 5:30 a.m. and a fresh breeze carried the scent of apple blossoms and lilacs in through Lila’s open window. She was the first to awaken, and breathed deeply of the fragrance, almost able to taste the lilacs on her lips. She leaped out of bed, eager to attend to her hens and baby chicks before cleaning up and dressing for the big event. All of the picnickers were to gather at the old Russell Homestead by 10:30 a.m., and Lila, who had several hours of work to do, had no time to waste.

Rebecca, too, was shortly bustling about the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the others. Amber, hearing her mother rise, followed upon her heels. “What’s for breakfast?” she asked, lovingly draping her T-shirt clad arms over her mother’s shoulders.

“Do you have to ask?” Rebecca said, happily. “Eggs, eggs and more eggs! Just the way you like them!”

By ten o’clock,
The Egg Ladies
, including Amber, were dressed in their long, colorful gowns and matching beribboned floppy hats and were ready to go. Rebecca was finishing the final packing up of her many and varied contributions to the picnic, when Wendell ambled across the way decked out in black pants and a country Western-style black dress shirt with a silver-clipped string tie. He looked a bit like Johnny Cash, handsome in his finery, and he liberally flashed his trademark, gold-tooth grin.

“You look awful shaap!” said Lila, greeting Wendell affectionately. “How do WE all look?”

Lila swept back into a low curtsey, but Wendell’s eyes turned automatically toward Rebecca, who, blushing, dropped a quick curtsey of her own. “Wal, you know, you gals look downright good enough to eat!” he proclaimed.

Mike Hobart had brought the four-wheeler and an accompanying utility trailer over the day before, and parked them overnight in the barn. He now arrived in his pickup with Miss Hastings in tow, and presented himself in the kitchen as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred in that room the day before. He was freshly scrubbed, and looked boyishly handsome in a white cotton shirt, laundered blue jeans and black string tie on loan from Wendell. Miss Hastings was bedecked in her frilly white blouse, and a burgundy-colored crepe skirt that draped elegantly over a neat set of black leather ankle boots, which instantly gave Amber footgear envy.

“Where did you get those old boots!” she demanded, before even greeting the elderly woman.

“Amber!” chastened her mother.

“Don’t stop her, dahrrrling! You know I ADORE honesty!” Miss Hastings said to Rebecca, before turning to Amber. “I paid $2 for these boots in New York City in 1952! I think they’re going to outlive ME!” She burst into gales of laughter.

The gayety continued and spilled over into the dooryard where it became amplified with the arrival of the Gilpin family. Maude was stunning in an outfit consisting of a white silk gown laced with pink satin ribbons, which seemed to erase 40 years from the doting grandmother and highlighted the beauty of her fat face. Ralph was obviously smitten with his wife, and strutted around her in his Sunday dress, sans coat and with a bright red bandana replacing his necktie, looking very much like a cocky Bantam rooster. Gray Gilpin had been sweet-talked by his grandmother into a pair of black jeans and a green dress shirt, and he likewise sported a red bandana, which, shortly after his arrival at the old Russell place, ended up flapping out of his back pocket like a tail feather on a young jake turkey.

Ryan MacDonald was the last to pull in. Not having the foresight to pack an old-fashioned costume for his mission to Maine, MacDonald, who had taken a room at the Copper Heron in neighboring Unity, should by rights have been the least prepared for the picnic. However, he was not a high-powered attorney for nothing, and therefore MacDonald coaxed his hostess at the B&B into assisting him. She led him to the local Amish store, Community Market on the Thorndike Road, where she outfitted him in the dark pants, sky blue short-sleeved shirt and suspenders that are traditional summer work clothing for the men of this agrarian community – topped off with an authentic Amish straw hat. Wendell had brought over an additional string tie, as a peace offering to the man whom he had once wished back to—Boston, at the very least! And with this jaunty addition to his toilet the little group shortly pronounced that, out of all of them, Ryan MacDonald was the best dressed for Grammie Addie’s annual outing to the Millett Rock!

Ryan MacDonald certainly was handsome, there was no denying the fact.  Rebecca felt a flutter in her own heart when she looked at the dark-haired, sexy-eyed corporate attorney, and she glanced quickly at Lila to measure whether or not her friend was showing any symptoms of lingering affection. However, Lila’s heart was safe from that direction, since she had eyes for no one but Mike Hobart.

But, alas for our heroine! She soon discovered that she herself was safe from romantic overtures from ALL directions! Hobart, still chaffing over his peccadillo of yesterday, chastely refrained from touching Lila or even looking at her! Instead, he hung back in the dooryard, inseparable from MacDonald, as though the two men had been best of friends since childhood. Lila, when she looked at her two suitors, so recently at each other’s throat and now laughing and joking together like Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn, felt her young heart overflowing with joy and love.

But we must not forget to mention the OTHER guest at the picnic, which was certainly not the least. Matilda, Miss Hastings’ pet chicken, chirped happily from her cat carrier, already loaded alongside the picnic gear and food into the ATV’s utility trailer. Rebecca had sewed a miniature bonnet for the barred rock hen, and the bird was liberated long enough for the seamstress to slip the calico cap upon the hen’s inquisitive head. Matilda cocked her head sideways, causing the bonnet to slip back like the bonnet of a young girl tossing her head. The little group laughed with glee at the silly-looking chicken, who, appreciating the attention, hopped around on the grass showing off her new style.

A few minutes before 10:30 a.m., Hobart threw his long leg over the ATV and MacDonald carefully lifted Miss Hastings up onto the leather seat behind him. The retired music teacher clasped Hobart’s waist with her left arm, and patted him on the shoulder with her other hand. “Let’s roll, dahrrrlings!” she cried. The carpenter revved up the four-wheeler and the little group of picnickers coalesced behind the tow-trailer, laughing as they strolled across the road down into the green field, which curved down suggestively toward where the pine woods was walking up to meet them. The black and white bobolinks, home from their winter adventure, shot up out of the tall grass like skeet from a skeet shooter, startling Rebecca so much so that Wendell, always on the alert for an opportunity, reached out and took her arm to steady her. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and her pretty face turned towards his with some satisfaction. Their eyes met, and the chicken farmer winked.