Marguerite (part two)
This was the farm then. You went out on Georgetown Road and turned into a half-mile lane with a sharp right angle to skirt the field below the house. The house itself sat high. You could see our neighbors on the tops of other hills, soft woods and green valleys separating us from those other distant white, double-storied houses, two windows at the top, two at the bottom and a big front porch right across. A red barn, settler style. Everybody knew whose house was whose so when my mother went out to hang the clothes that first Monday morning, she knew it was Sarah Barber’s white sheets already fluttering in the morning breeze. Mother set her jaw and squared her shoulders. The next Monday, our sheets picked up the first rays of sunrise.
Dad had come to live here so he wouldn’t have to be a soldier. His brother, Cuyler, had gone down in France. Grandpa McCann bought the property specially; he wouldn’t want to see Grandma grieve a second son. Farmers were exempt.
It suited Llew, my dad. He liked plowing and planting and gathering in the wheat and the potatoes. He liked having cows to feed and milk. He liked rescuing baby lambs in the snow. The plow, the cultivator, the drag, and the planter were pulled by a team of white mules brought up from Grandpa’s place for a few days whenever needed. The other resident was a big black German shepherd, called Rex.
Dad only ever had one name for each kind of animal. Horses were Duke, mares were Flora, cows were Bessie, and sows were Mamma Pig. Only one little pig ever achieved name status. He followed Dad everywhere like a pup and was therefore, predictably, called Elmer. The cats were barn cats known only by description: “old mamma cat,” “tiger kitten’” and so forth. I got to name all the dogs after this one.
They drove up to the farm that first time in Grandpa's Model A one Sunday after church. Dad had taken to going to church to counter Mom's mother's opinion that he was wild and unreliable. Llew and Charlie had been seeing one another off and on and on this day, Llew had purposely gone on inside to talk with Mrs. Franz. There were the usual formalities, inquiring about his parents and their state of health and the planting, set to go or in the ground already. But Dad led quickly into discussion about the Depression, its political implications and the results of the last election, which the Republicans has won, thank goodness!
He tucked into a second piece of cake and commented on the cool freshness of the milk. Charlie watched silently. As they left, Llew turned back to shake the hands of the older couple once more, promising to have Charlotte back before eight o'clock. He was handsome, charming, and obviously intelligent. My Grandmother decided she'd been misled. She put her hands up to smooth her hair.
Grandfather Franz had looked on, taking no real part in the discussion. In truth, he was enjoying the cake after a rather spartan Sunday dinner designed to keep his weight down. He was sure his daughter would do exactly as she liked, whatever her mother decided. He and Charlie were usual accomplices. But still, he hadn’t forgotten how she'd tricked him into cutting her long hair. She'd followed him even down to the barn that night and kept on about bobbing, bobbing, bobbing while he was milking, milking and milking until he got so fed up, he just jumped up and grabbed the big rusty shears from the horse stall and whacked into it. There was nothing to be done about it then but to finish the job back up at the house. My mother told me how frightened she’d been that he’d spoil it!
So Charlie and Llew happened to drive up to the farm one Sunday afternoon. No promises made. Just have a look. Rex came running when he heard the car. He jumped and whirled in the air, barking his happiness. They pulled up near the back steps and Llew came around to open the car door for Charlie. Rex followed curiously. When he saw her, he dropped. Slowly and deliberately he lowered his head and shoulders, hunching down his hindquarters until his body was sprung parallel to the ground. Ears laid back, hackles raised, pointing at Charlie.
“Rex!! Stop it!!” Llew was surprised and annoyed at the dog's strange behavior. Rex didn’t stop. Charlie glued herself against Llew’s side, flapping one hand in the direction of the dog.
“Oh! Get away! Llew, get him!” Her voice was rising. “Take him away! He...he's going to bite!!” She edged back toward the car, eyes on the dog, arms and elbows held high up over her face.
Llew grabbed the dog by the collar and jerked him up. “What’s the matter with you? It’s only a girl.” He shoved him forward. “Go on. She won’t hurt you.” The dog knew better. He hung limply from his collar and refused to take his feet. Llew sighed with disgust.
“Trouble is he’s not used to anybody being here. Just him and me." Llew smiled and shrugged, "Guess I’ll have to tie him up in the barn for now,” calling back over one shoulder as he led the dog away. “He’ll get over it once he gets to know you.”
"Sure," said Charlie.
When Llew came back, they went up the few back steps, laughing together again … silly dog! The door opened before her and Charlie entered the kitchen, bright sunlight falling full across the room from the western window. Small dust motes floated randomly in its beam making it seem as if you could pick it up or hold onto it. In the opposite corner, there was a table and three chairs of varied color and descent. The sink beneath the window was clean and the surrounding surface covered in silvery zinc. Old linoleum on the floor.
She walked on in a sort of daze, not really thinking about what she saw. The next room was large, meant for dining, but held only a single bed tucked against the wall. A dark green blind clung to its window at a precarious angle. Wide floorboards, stained around the edges to fit some long departed carpet, continued through the archway to the adjoining room where there was a soft chair, a lamp, and a side table with two yellowing books, last week’s newspaper, and an empty ashtray.
In the last of the rooms, the staircase rose to a landing, reversed, and ascended again through the high ceiling. Another small room had been added behind the stairs with a wall of windows to catch the southern sun.
She stopped at the bottom of the steps. No, thought Charlie. Nope. Not on your Nellie.
A little truck lumbered up the rise to the old Franz place and drew to a stop under the dark spreading cypress. Two men in caps and loose-fitting jackets got out and walked around on either side of the truck to the back, turned the latch to drop the tailgate, and drew out a large polished red wood box. Short carved legs of a darker wood completed each corner. They picked it up, one with his hands behind him and the other with his hands in front and in this fashion, they walked up the path to the house carrying the box between them. It was heavy, inch-thick timber all around and nearly five feet long! When they reached the back door, they set the box down and the first man knocked twice, importantly.
Mrs. Franz from her kitchen window and Charlie from her upstairs room looked out in puzzlement. The legend on the truck door read “McIvor Furniture.” Mrs. Franz went to the door. It was too cold to leave them standing on the doorstep so she brought the men inside before asking questions. Charlotte heard one say, “Miss Charlotte Franz, Hopmann’s Road,” as he read the slip of white paper taken from his pocket.
Charlie pushed past her mother. She stood looking at the box with incredulity, then pulled open the heavy, hinged lid. A rich cloud of aromatic cedar flowed into the room. She slammed down the lid.
“Get it out of here!” she ordered. “How dare he!” Her mother frowned. What was going on? Had some arrangement been made? She was partly reassured; Charlie was obviously furious, stamping her feet and striding around the room as if in a cage, muttering to herself. She came back to the chest where the two men shuffled uncertainly.
“I’m sorry,” she said more quietly, tilting her head up to the weathered faces, one, then the other. “It’s not your fault. There must have been a misunderstanding,” and she simply turned and left the room!
The two men looked at each other. Their feelings of beneficent authority had vanished. They didn’t like causing distress to such a pretty little thing! The girl’s mother affirmed their own decision.
“I’m afraid it will have to go back,” she said.
The men loaded up again, the one in front holding onto the box with his hands behind him so they could both walk forward. They opened the tailgate and lifted the cedar chest inside, neatly securing the latch and cranking to start the engine before resuming their customary places in the canvas-covered cab. Back they went down the dip from the Franz’s house and all the way back along Newgarden Road to McIvor Furniture, State Street.
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