The Long Road Home (15 page)

“Is there much business in this?” Nora asked, already scheming.

“Some. More when you’re good.”

Nora made a snap decision. The instinctive, gut-level kind that she was good at. “I’m going to learn to do this,” she said. “I’ve got the wool and God knows, up in that house all winter, I’ll have the time.”

May looked up and slowed her spinning. “You’ll be tough competition.” A smile snuck out of the folds of fat.

May’s head ducked back down toward her spinning. Nora beamed. In her lap, her fingers imitated May’s every move.
Gradually, as she gauged May’s pace, Nora began handing her bits of wool to spin. The two women spun wool and tales over the next hour.

They talked about Nora’s garden and what she should plant. May declared she would draw up the plans herself. They discussed Sarah, Seth’s younger daughter, and whether she’d marry again and give those two babies a daddy. Sarah lived in a mobile home minutes from Seth. Her ex-husband, Zach, lived in their house down the road.

“Kissing distance away,” May mumbled with disgust.

“Why don’t they just get back together? I met him today and Zach’s a great guy.”

“Yeh-up, he is.” May slowed her spinning and her eyes looked up with intent. “You ever seen Timmy? Her second born?”

“The one with the dark curly hair?”

May nodded gravely, pursed her lips, and went back to her spinning.

Nora continued feeding May the wool, thinking of little Timmy, always so curious and determined to get into trouble, and his sister Grace, with her carrot red pigtails. Then it dawned on her. Blond Sarah, red-haired Zach, red-haired Grace, and then little Timmy as dark haired and brown eyed as a deer.

“Oh,” she replied.

“Uh-huh,” May mumbled, her lips curled tight around her gums.

The spinning wheel spun while Nora thought that she still hoped it would all work out. Zach seemed mighty lonely.

“What’s ever become of Tom?” Nora asked as she poured another cup of tea. Seth’s eldest son had always been her favorite neighbor. Handsome and wiry, like she imagined Seth must have been when he was young. Tom Johnston always
appeared with his pickup truck whenever they had car trouble or needed a spare hand. “I haven’t seen him around.”

When she looked up, May had ceased her spinning. She held a clump of wool in her hand and her face took on a faraway look. The sadness seemed to well up and swallow her whole.

“Our Tom is gone.”

“Oh no,” exclaimed Nora, setting down the teapot with a rattle. “I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s a sorry tale,” May replied, shaking her head. “You might just as well hear it here as elsewheres. Tom was a good boy, always workin’ hard on the farm, like Seth. But times got lean so he took a job at the quarry to ease the costs here at the farm. Same as Frank and Junior done. Two years back there was this accident. Our Tom got crushed by a load of stone.”

“My God, that’s terrible.”

May rested her hands in her full lap. “Sorrowful pain it was. Near killed Seth as well. First his wife, then his boy. Went into the mountains for a long spell. Thought we’d lost him too. He come out again, though, and when he did it was like he found himself again. A better self.”

Nora leaned forward in her chair. “How so?”

May chafed her heavy arm. “Hard to explain. Seth, Squire and I—Squire’s our older brother what moved out to Florida—we was always raised close to the land. Woods, ponds, fields, that’s our world. But the mountains,” she looked out her window toward the great timber-laden expanse beyond the windbreak. “The mountains hold a kind of magic.”

“Come now, May. Magic?”

“That’ll be it. The deep woods are immortal. Walk in there and see for yourself. You hitch up somehow with the wild, natural part still beatin’ inside yourself. For the three of us,
leastwhiles, going to the deep woods is like going to church for some folks.” She cackled loudly, bursting the tension like a bubble. “Lord, Reverend Wilcox will have my soul if he hears this.

“Anyways, of all of us, Seth was closest to nature. So it was right that nature healed him. He found a small grove not far from the house. Calls it sacred. None of us is buried there or nothin’. I ’spect you couldn’t dig it, it being so steep and rocky. The hills drop way far down to some rivulet of water and scattering of white rocks. Big boulders, some of them. But up high, where the sun dapples through the leaves, the grass is long and soft, like I guess angels’ hair would be. A peaceful spot. A sacred spot, surely.

“Seth won’t let nobody build on or around it. No human hand can change a thing. Wrote it down for generations to come. He goes to it often. Took me and the kids too. Says it’s to remind us of what it was all like in the beginning. Of where we come from and where we’ll all be again someday.”

May sat for a moment, still looking out the window. Nora guessed May could no longer make the arduous walk to the sacred grove, but it was clear that she carried the image close to her heart, like an icon. When May swung her head back, she was her usual fiery self.

“Seth don’t worry so since then. It’s a relief, I can tell you. The place might be a bit let down now, but he ain’t working ’round the clock and fallin’ asleep at the table neither. He takes time to talk to the kids.

“And the dogs and cats. The mutts and sluts, we call ’em. Every year there’s another one come crying at the door and another one leaving without so much as a thank-you. Word’s got out. I think people are dropping ’em off now. He can’t say no.”

Nora laughed as a knock sounded on the door.

“Who in the world?” May started to rise.

“I’ll get it, May,” said Nora, rising to her feet. It only took a few steps to get to the door. When she opened it, she found Seth bent over three mutts, waving his glove and sending the dogs leaping one over the other for it. She couldn’t tell who was having the better time: Seth or the dogs.

Seth nodded and smiled when he spied her in the trailer. Her presence seemed to keep him at bay, because he just stood there, a metal milk pail in his arms, while the dogs sniffed and scratched at his boots.

“I was just leaving,” Nora said to reassure him.

Seth only nodded.

“Speak of the devil! What you got there?” boomed May from behind her.

Nora pressed herself against the door so that May could peer over her shoulder.

“That my milk?” May called. “Be a good girl, Nora, and fetch it for me. I have a hard time with these legs.”

Nora did as she was asked. Seth relinquished the milk with a grunt of satisfaction and a few more nods. Underneath his visor, Nora noted that his blue eyes seemed to sparkle with some private humor that only he was privilege to. Nora carried the milk jug inside and set it on the table while May descended the three wooden steps on stiff legs, her hand tight on the rail.

“How’re things over at the Thompson place?” May asked, winded.

“All right.”

“John Henry?”

Seth lifted his shoulders.

“That poorly, huh? Esther ain’t farin’ much better. Snappin’ and swipin’ like a dog on a chain.”

Seth grunted and looked out over the hayfield.

“It’s better this way,” May continued. “You can only fix a broken lamp so many times.”

“Naomi Thompson’s real upset over her boy,” Seth said. “Worried ’bout how he’s actin’ so queer.”

“He got an ailment?”

“Nope. Leastwhiles, not one that a potion can cure.” Seth shook his head and rubbed a palm across his spreading smile. “It’s a sight, that’s f’sure.”

“What’s a sight? What’s goin’ on at the Thompson place?”

“Well now. John Henry just up and took his twenty-gauge and started off shootin’ all his ma’s whirligigs and ornaments in her front yard.”

“No! All of ’em?”

“Yeh-up. Them ducks with the twirly arms, them stick-up cows, and them fuzzy sheep, too. Blowed ’em all to bits.” A laugh exploded from Seth. “A real blessin’, I call it.”

May let loose a belly laugh that set the two of them to snickering and laughing.

“Did he shoot off the rear end of that bendin’-over lady?” May asked between guffaws.

Seth howled. “That’d be the best one.”

“Praise the Lord!”

Nora stepped out from the trailer, drawn to the laughter. Not even knowing what it was about, she couldn’t help chuckling herself, the laughter being so infectious. Soon enough she caught on and laughed till tears ran down her cheeks.

It took a while, but they settled down, May rubbing her belly and Seth rubbing his chest. Nora’s ribs hurt.

“It ain’t funny, really,” May said, wiping the moisture from her eyes. The laughter fled from her voice. “That boy is hurtin’ real bad. Near breaks my heart. Esther must’ve really broke it off this time.”

That sobered Seth up real fast. “Clumsy, she is. Just like her sister.”

Nora saw May’s hands slam on her big hips and it was plain she was about to light into her brother with a fiery retort. Nora started back-stepping away, hoping to escape without notice.

May noticed. Her mouth was open and her finger was pointed to heaven when she spotted Nora inching away. Instantly she snapped her mouth shut and used her uplifted hand to wave Nora over.

Nora returned reluctantly. “I really have to go. Thanks for a lovely visit, May.”

“You come back anytime.”

“If’n you’re goin’ up, I got them plans for the house ready,” said Seth.

“Wonderful! Then we can get started on the work. It’s getting chilly up there at night.”

Seth seemed quite pleased with the prospect of paying work.

“Well, I’m ready to go if you are,” she said to Seth. “I expect you’ll want to drive up?”

Seth snorted. “I sure don’t expect to live long enough to walk up.”

SETH DROVE NORA up to the house in his pickup, easily avoiding the pits and soft spots on the old road. A porcupine scuttled across in front of them, eliciting a sigh of awe from Nora and a grunt of frustration from the old hunter.

“Dang porcupines. Never remember seeing so many of them.”

“Well, they won’t bother me anymore,” said Nora smugly. “I put a salt lick out so they’ll leave the house alone.” Nora leaned back in the cab, enormously pleased with her ingenuity.

Seth swung his head around to look at her, then slowed the Ford to a stop. He had an incredulous glint in his eye.

“Come on now, missus. You really done that?”

Nora guessed he was impressed. “Yeh-up,” she replied proudly. It was the first time she’d used the typical Vermont response. She liked the way it rolled off her tongue. She even nodded her head a few times for good measure.

Seth’s shoulders started to shake as if he was heaving. He made short, gasping sounds and hunched over the wheel.

“Seth, are you all right?” Nora asked, her voice rising in alarm.

Seth turned toward her and it was clear that he was laughing again, only his face was all red from trying to hold it in.

“Don’t know,” he said, pausing between laughs, “that I can take two fits of laughin’ in one day.”

Nora sat straighter in the cab and scowled. “What’s so funny?”

“You did it now. That salt lick will attract every porcie from here to Canada. It’ll be huntin’ time for sure.”

Nora’s mouth fell open. Attract every porcie? “But I thought it would distract them from the house!”

“Nope. Nothin’ a porcie loves better’n salt.”

Nora slumped back in the seat and rested her chin in her palm. She imagined a long line of short-legged, spindly porcupines traveling south from Canada, just for a lick of her salt.

At first she was furious with herself. Then the whole thing seemed pretty ridiculous. Even funny. Before she knew it, Nora started laughing again. It started as short spurts, then rolled into side-holding laughter. It was fun to hear Seth let loose with another round as well.

Nothing like a good laugh to cement a friendship, Nora thought.

“Not t’worry,” Seth mumbled as he fired up the engine. “My dog Zip will take care of them porcies. He just flips ’em on the back and
ziiip!
Rips their bellies clean out.”

Nora blanched. “Be sure to point out Zip someday. I’d like to stay out of his way.”

“Yeh-up. Good ol’ Zip.” Seth stretched his arm out over the wheel and eased out onto the road. The tires caught gravel and they started off with a lurch.

“Seth, May told me about the sacred grove. Will you take me there sometime?”

“Sure. Jus’ let me know when.”

“Would you mind if I took a few rocks from it?”

Seth’s face skewered. “I would mind. I don’t allow nothin’ disturbed. What do you want those rocks for anyway? You got plenty of your own, lying in your fields.”

“Oh, they’re not for me. I just thought that since May can’t get to the sacred grove, and since she loves the place, well, I thought that May would enjoy having a few of the rocks put in her garden. For sentiment’s sake.” Nora looked at her hands. “She mourns Tom so.”

The pickup truck rumbled up the road, bumping over rocks. Seth hadn’t responded. He kept his pale blue eyes dead on the road. Nora chewed her lip, worried that she’d brought up a subject still painful for him.

Seth ran his hand over his mouth and around his stubbled cheek. Then, when he set it back on the wheel, he said, eyes still on the road, “If anyone oughta bring May them rocks, it’ll be me. Truth to tell, I should of brung ’em long ago.”

He looked over Nora’s way, briefly. Nora never knew anyone who could convey so much in so brief a glance.

“Much obliged.”

Nora smiled and her chest eased as she turned her head to look out her window. Beyond in the meadow, surrounded by birch gold, straw grass yellow and maple red, a lone figure stood before an easel. Her long strawberry-colored hair blew freely in the autumn breeze. It was Esther, looking like a model in a Wyeth painting.

“Seth, stop!” Nora called.

He hit the brakes and followed her gaze to his daughter in the fields.

“Humph,” he muttered with a slap on the door. “Foolin’ around again. If that girl spent half the energy on her chores
as she did on them paints, we’d all be ahead. Yes, we would.” His head bobbed in conviction.

Nora stared with her lips tight. Competent, self-assured Esther, of all people, painted. Couldn’t she knit or write or something other than the one talent Nora coveted but had never mastered?

“Is she any good?” she asked.

“How would I know? Why would anyone want to paint a sky when it’s right there to marvel at? God did it right the first time. Why waste time making a second-rate copy?” His voice was harsh but his eyes were soft as he viewed his daughter.

Nora’s face grew somber. How long had it been since she herself picked up a brush? Two years? Three? She had buried the need, along with so many desires. Yet the yearning still burned.

“Wait a minute, Seth. I’ll be right back.”

“Well, don’t be all day. I’ve got to get started on that flooring.”

Nora nodded as she slammed the door shut. The walk across the meadow was a long one. The tall meadow grass that from a distance waved like silk, was brittle. It scraped against her jeans and poked through her socks as she sidestepped woodchuck holes and rocks. Yet ahead, like a beacon, stood Esther. Nora’s strides were long with anticipation by the time she reached the painter’s side.

Esther turned and raised her palette before her chest like a colorful shield.

“I don’t mean to break your concentration,” Nora said. “May I see your work? I didn’t know you painted.”

Esther shrugged then turned back to her work.

Encouraged, Nora stepped forward and looked past the bony shoulders to the canvas ahead. Once there, she was trapped,
captured by the boldly colorful landscape. Nora exhaled a long, ragged breath.

“Esther, it’s magnificent.”

Esther swung around, her eyes at first wide, then narrow.

“This thing? Oh, I dunno. I like it, but something’s not there yet.”

“There’s such vision in your work, Esther. You’ve captured the orchestration of the mountains, their power and color. Believe me. I’ve studied art, collected it. Even arranged shows. Esther, you have real talent.”

Esther closed her eyes and let the palette droop by her side. When she opened them again, Nora saw a vulnerability she had never witnessed there before.

“Thank you,” whispered Esther.

A silence enveloped the two women. Neither knew what to say next. In the distance, two short beeps blared from the car horn.

“Is that C.W. beeping like that?” asked Esther, turning away and squinting her eyes.

“No, it’s your father.”

“Aha,” she said, nodding in understanding. “Can’t imagine C.W. doing something like that. But Pa, well, he doesn’t like to waste time.”

Nora smiled. “So I understand. He thinks painting is a waste of time.”

Esther smiled too in conspiracy. “Yeh-up, he does.” She dabbed her brush upon the palette. “I hear you paint.”

Nora almost stuttered. “Oh, I dabble. I haven’t got your talent.” She looked over the meadow. “I guess I’m still searching for the talent I do have. You know, you’re lucky. Your gift is obvious.” Her disappointment cut through the compliment and she knew by Esther’s puzzled expression that she had heard
it. Feeling a twinge of embarrassment, Nora looked off at the pickup.

“I better go. Your father is waiting. Sorry if I bothered you.” She turned and began her trek across the meadow.

“Hey,” called Esther.

Nora stopped and turned to face her.

“Maybe we could paint together someday.”

Nora stood, stunned, blinking in the high afternoon sun. At last, an overture from Esther. Her own ambition to paint was pulled out of its hiding place and left dancing in her veins.

“I’d love to,” she yelled back. She saw Esther nod a yes, then slowly return to her painting.

“Thank you,” Nora whispered to her back.

The light from the barn glowed in the valley as C.W. hiked down the mountain to do his nightly lamb check. He was expecting a birth or two tonight. Most nights things progressed as Mother Nature had intended. Every now and then, however, a mother wasn’t up to the job, and if someone didn’t check, an abandoned lamb could freeze in the few hours till dawn. He was the hired hand for the MacKenzie lambs, so that someone was him.

Tonight, however, he could hear he had company. The twang of country music wafted up the road and now and then, low voices or a burst of laughter. They called it mountain noise, the way voices can carry for miles. Esther swore she knew what music he was listening to way up in his cabin.

He could use some company tonight. The day had proved too long and he needed the companionship of friends. Laughter roared out again, and catching the mood, a smiling C.W. stretched out his long legs and hurried down the road over to the barn.

Inside, Frank sat sprawled across bales of hay sipping a can
of beer, and beside him Junior plucked a guitar. Esther leaned back against a hay bale with her knees up to her chest. Her face was down, ignoring the sulking glances heading her way from John Henry across the aisle. It surprised C.W. to see John Henry back with the gang and, knowing the facts, he wondered why the man would put himself through the pain.

“What’s up?” C.W. asked at the door.

Their heads swung up and several hands waved him over.

“Oh, you gotta hear this,” Frank said between laughs. “It’s pretty good. Go ahead, Junior. Tell him.”

Junior colored and shook his head.

“Aw, come on,” Esther cajoled.

Junior shook his head.

“Well, is someone going to let me in on the joke?” C.W. settled on a bale of hay near Frank and stretched his legs out one upon the other. “I’ve got all night,” he said, grinning widely.

“It’s something Nora was explaining to Pa today over at the house,” Frank said. He was still chuckling and coughed on his beer.

“Oh?” C.W. leaned back on his elbows. His smile faded. “What was that?”

“You should have heard her. She can talk up a pitch real nice.” His sarcasm was dripping. “She’s tellin’—no, teachin’—us about how to use the pastures. Like, right. We don’t know. We’ve only been doing it for generations.”

“That’s not the funny thing,” Esther said. “She had all these papers, jam-filled up, and she started spreading them all out in front of Pa.”

Junior smiled sheepishly. “Near took up the whole table.”

“There were figures, and notes and columns and columns of calculations. Pa was like to get dizzy following them graphs! You should’a seen his face!” Frank started laughing again,
and this time, Junior and John Henry joined in. Esther didn’t laugh. She seemed embarrassed and chugged at her beer.

“I wish I could have seen Seth’s face,” said C.W. in a calm voice. Inside, he was elated. His pupil was doing her homework. Knowing Nora, her report was well researched and she shirked no detail. “What did Seth say?”

“He liked it,” Junior blurted out.

“Oh, he did not,” Esther said. “He was just being nice to her.”

“He liked it,” Junior repeated, his jaw stuck out.

“Maybe he did,” C.W. said slowly. “As a matter of fact, Nora and I talked about that program. The extension agent told me about it, and I suggested that she study up on it. Seems she did, in spades.”

“Since when are you and the boss lady talking shop,” asked Esther, pushing up from the bale of hay. John Henry scowled and threw her a sharp glance.

“Since day one.”

Esther’s face clouded and she leaned back again.

“Really?” asked Frank, siding up to C.W. “So, you think this plan of hers is any good?”

“I do, Frank. I think you might want to look into it for your own pastures. According to the agent, it should not only raise yield, but make your land more valuable.” He looked at John Henry. “Yours too. With all your livestock, it’s all the more critical.”

John Henry snuck a glance at Esther’s face and shook his head. “Nope. I like our tried and true methods, thanks.”

C.W. shrugged. “It’s your place.”

Frank, however, looked interested. Frank was always interested in any idea that could increase his farm’s value.

“Where’d you learn to become so expert?” John Henry asked, jealousy ringing in his voice.

A dull ache began in C.W.’s lower neck. “I never said I was expert.”

“I was born to a farm,” said Frank to John Henry. “I started walking beans at six and driving a four-wheel pickup by the time I was nine. That still don’t make me ‘expert.’ You don’t need to pick the beans to learn how to grow them.” He looked over at C.W. and gave him a firm nod.

Like many farmers these days, Frank had to earn money off the farm to offset the rising farm costs. It’d been a tough decision for a man who loved nothing more than farming to go work with rocks and stone. Still, with being able to share C.W. part-time with the MacKenzies, Frank had made the only economic decision he could to survive.

C.W. earned the traditional package for a hired hand: a modest monthly wage, a place to live, and once a year, a freezer full of meat. And C.W. had earned their respect over the past year the old-fashioned way: with honest labor and ideas that worked.

“I never was real good in school, but C.W.’s been teachin’ me a lot about money managing. Ya gotta know that stuff now to keep a farm going. You know that.” He ended with a warning glare at John Henry.

John Henry nodded in agreement. Still, C.W. could see it rankled John Henry that this no-account farmhand had gained the trust not only of Frank, but of Junior, Seth, and most importantly, Esther as well.

Trust meant a lot up here.

John Henry stood and slipped on a canvas jacket over his Grateful Dead T-shirt.

“Well, it’s gettin’ late. Katie Beth Zwinger is waitin’ for me to come over.” He spoke to everyone, but he looked only at Esther.

C.W. narrowed his eyes in curious speculation. Frank
looked ready to keel over. Junior’s mouth fell open and he shifted his glance from John Henry, to Esther, then to Frank with a worried look on his face. Seeing that Esther was more intent on staring at her boot than at him, John Henry waved a quick good-bye and hastened out of the barn.