A Door Just Opened, page 7
I found it hard to imagine the businesslike, authoritative Aunt Grace as the sad young woman Papa described.
As though reading my thoughts, Papa said, “The whole experience changed her. She came back a different person. Threw herself into all sorts of things in town just to keep busy. Seemed like she was trying hard to forget that it ever happened.”
I hesitated a minute, then I asked, “But didn’t Aunt Grace want to have more children?”
“I don’t think she could.” He flicked the reins over Dolly’s back. “Giddy up, Dolly. Let’s get on home.”
We rode for a while in silence while I digested this new piece of information. What did that mean, that she couldn’t have more children? I wished I could ask, but it sounded like one of those questions that embarrass adults. I asked Papa instead if Dr. Simpson thought Mary Ellen had the same thing as Aunt Grace—those baby blues.
“He said he suspects it’s that, because of the way she’s been acting. But she also lost a lot of blood so he’s giving her the iron pills as well. He hopes in time she’ll be all right.” Papa shook his head. He looked discouraged.
It seemed too cruel for this to happen twice in one family. But at least our little Grace was strong and healthy, and surely Mary Ellen would get well again.
Chapter Five
Mark came over after supper a few nights later, and we sat out on the back steps reading the Shakespeare play he’d brought. It was called The Tempest, about a shipwreck on an island and a plot to kill the exiled King Prospero and his daughter Miranda who falls in love with a prince. It was very exciting, although Shakespeare’s version of English was difficult to understand at first. Mark was a big help in figuring out what people were saying, since he’d had some practice reading Shakespeare at school.
“I’ll be Prospero,” he said, “and you can be Miranda. We can divide up the other parts as we go along.”
“All right. But then let’s switch and I’ll be Prospero.”
Mark frowned. “But he’s a man. You need to read the woman’s part.”
“No, I don’t! I can pretend to be Prospero just as well as you can!”
“Oh. Well, I suppose.” He looked doubtful, but then he said, “Men used to read women’s parts in Shakespeare’s time, so I guess there’s no reason a girl can’t read a man’s part. Let’s give it a try.”
We spent an hour or so reading the play and switching roles, stopping sometimes so we could talk about the characters and what each was doing and why. By then the stars were out and the fireflies were darting across the grass and turning on their little greenish lights.
Mark yawned. “I have to be up early—farmers’ hours—so I’ll be on my way.” He stood up. “Good night, Anna. Sleep tight and dream of Shakespeare!”
“Thanks. This was fun.”
After he was gone, I went in and got ready for bed. It had been fun to read the play, but a little intimidating too. If this was the kind of thing I’d need to know if I ever got to high school, I would have a lot of work ahead of me. No matter. Whatever I had to do, if I got the chance, I’d do it.
* * * *
For the next couple of weeks, I didn’t see Mark except to exchange a few words after church. He was busy helping Mr. Pierce with the haying, and we were all busy too. With the extra trips to town with Mama to see Mary Ellen and check in with Dr. Simpson, Papa was hard put to get the farm work done. Even Rose had to pitch in. Together we went out in the fields to pick the corn, tomatoes and beans while Papa concentrated on getting the hay mown, stacked and stored in the barn. By night I was so tired, I went to bed soon after supper and went right to sleep. I hardly had time to miss my sister, or think about reading plays with Mark, or anything much except eating and sleeping.
Then, one late afternoon as Rose and I were coming in from the cornfield, we heard a familiar voice. I stiffened and stopped short on the path. It was Papa’s younger brother, Uncle Jack, appearing out of nowhere the way he always did. We hadn’t seen or heard from him in more than two years. Uncle Jack was like that. He’d suddenly vanish without a word to anyone, and then just as unexpectedly reappear months or years later for a stay of a few weeks or months.
Often he wouldn’t say much about where he’d been, maybe just a vague “Oh, here, there and everywhere.” Other times he’d tell tales of New York City, sixty miles away, with its crowded streets and streetcars and big ships in the harbor, or of working on a freighter sailing the Great Lakes with cargoes of iron and coal. I always felt envious when I thought of the far places he had seen, so different from Cedar Crossing and the farm. I yearned to see some of those places for myself.
Once Uncle Jack had come home bringing Poll, the parrot. He said he’d gotten her from a gypsy woman he met. He’d up and left soon after that, leaving the parrot behind. Even though Mama disapproved of Uncle Jack, she had taken a fancy to Poll. She fed her seeds and special tidbits of fruit in summer, made sure the cage hung in a warm spot near the stove in winter, and flared up in Poll’s defense whenever Papa lost his patience and threatened to get rid of the bird. But Mama’s fondness for Poll didn’t make her any fonder of Uncle Jack.
“He’s irresponsible,” she told Papa. “He ought to get a job and settle down, and stop wandering all over without us ever knowing where he is.”
Papa nodded and grunted his agreement, but as far as I knew, he never lectured Uncle Jack about it. He seemed to have a soft spot in his heart for his brother in spite of Uncle Jack’s happy-go-lucky ways.
Sometimes, though, Uncle Jack came home from town late at night, drunk. Mary Ellen and I would hear him banging around in the kitchen, knocking over chairs and dropping the metal dipper when he tried to pump some water up from the well in the cellar. Papa would go downstairs and we could hear the pump going again. I’d picture Papa pushing Uncle Jack’s head under it, the way I’d seen him do one time, until Uncle Jack sobered up enough to go out to the barn to sleep. Papa wouldn’t let him stay in the house on those nights. The next morning Mama’s lips would have that tight look. She’d slam Uncle Jack’s plate of ham and eggs down on the table without saying a word, but the look on her face said plenty.
So I knew, with Uncle Jack back, there were sure to be some tense times ahead.
When Rose and I entered the kitchen, Uncle Jack was sitting by the window, strumming on his banjo, his hat pushed back on his head. Mama was stirring something on the stove. I could smell the delicious aroma of beans and salt pork. I couldn’t see Mama’s face, but her back was stiff and she was stirring more vigorously than a pot of beans required.
“Hello, Uncle Jack,” I said. He kept on strumming but nodded at me and Rose with a smile.
“Where have you come from this time?” I asked.
He put down his banjo. “I’ve been down south in Maryland. What they call the Eastern Shore. Been working with a fella catching blue crabs. Even bigger than the ones we got here in the bay. You gotta catch a heap of ‘em though, to make any money. They sell dirt cheap.”
Rose had gone straight to Grace’s cradle after washing her hands at the sink. “Did you see the new baby?” she asked. “Her name’s Grace after Aunt Grace.”
“Yes, so your Ma told me. How did Aunt Grace like that?” He looked over at Mama but she didn’t turn around.
“Oh, I guess she liked it,” answered Rose. “She didn’t really pay much attention to the baby when she was here, though. Especially after Grace spit up.”
“Yup, that sounds like Aunt Grace all right. She doesn’t like messes.” Uncle Jack got up and started toward the kitchen door. “I’ll go see if Matt needs a hand with the milking,” he said to no one in particular. Mama didn’t answer. Instead, she told Rose and me to set the table and then husk the corn for supper.
Later that night, I heard Mama and Papa talking in the parlor.
“I just don’t want him here,” Mama was saying. “He sets a bad example, with the way he lives. He eats us out of house and home, and I never know what crazy ideas he’ll put in the girls’ heads. Or when he’ll come home tipsy.”
“I know, but to tell the truth, right now I need him. I can’t keep up with the haying and all the rest of the chores alone. It’s a blessing in disguise that he turned up when he did. I’ll see that he sleeps out in the hayloft and I’ll talk to him about the drinking. But I need him to stay and help for a while.”
Mama sighed. “Well, I hope he’ll be gone by the time the harvest is in this fall. I’ve got enough on my hands without worrying about what Jack will do next.”
I hoped he’d be gone by then too. I remembered the last time Uncle Jack was home. He’d stumbled into the kitchen one night when Mary Ellen and I were finishing up the dishes. I could smell the liquor on his breath. He’d grinned at both of us, then put his arm around Mary Ellen and pulled her toward him.
“You’re getting to be a beauty, Mary Ellen. How ‘bout a big hug for your old uncle?”
Mary Ellen twisted away and said crossly, “Leave me alone! I don’t want to hug you!”
“Oh, come on, there’s no harm in a hug.” Uncle Jack reached for her again, and Mary Ellen stepped back. Without even thinking, I picked up the broom from beside the door and gave it a good swing. It caught Uncle Jack squarely across the shoulders. He blinked in surprise as I opened the screen door and pushed him outside, hooking the door behind him.
“Go on out to the barn and sleep it off,” I called through the screen. “And don’t come in here like that again.”
Mary Ellen was standing with her arms wrapped around herself in a protective hug. “Thanks, Anna. I would never have had the nerve to whack him like that.”
“He deserved it. And he’d better not bother you again, or he’ll be sorry!”
Neither of us mentioned the incident to Mama or Papa, nor did Uncle Jack, but he hadn’t tried to hug Mary Ellen again. Still, I didn’t enjoy the prospect of having him around.
A few days later Mattie Vance came by with some eggs. “I thought you might be wanting a few more eggs,” she said to Mama. “Anna told me your hens wasn’t layin’ so good.”
“Thanks,” Mama said. “I really could use an extra dozen. I don’t know what ails my hens, but I hope they get over it soon. Help yourself to some tomatoes there by the back steps. Take all you want. They’ll rot before I get them all canned.”
“I’ll do that.” Mattie started for the door, then turned and said, “By the way, does Matt have someone helping him with the haying this year? I saw some fella in the hayfield just now.”
“Jack’s here, no one else,” Mama said. “Maybe it was Jack or Matt that you saw.”
“No, it wasn’t. Looked like some young fella skulkin’ around. Couldn’t get a good look at him, but he ‘minded me of someone. Can’t think who.” She picked up her empty egg basket. “Oh well, I’ll be on my way now. So long, everybody!”
Mama looked after Mattie with a worried frown. “I don’t like the thought of someone in our hayfield,” she said. “Someone who’s got no reason to be there.”
“I’ll go look if you want. Or go find Papa,” I said.
“No, never mind. We’ll ask Papa about it when he comes up for dinner.”
But Papa said he and Uncle Jack hadn’t seen anyone. He thought it was probably just some boy taking a shortcut through the hayfield.
As the August days became hotter and more humid, I despaired at how quickly September was approaching. In September school would begin, but it would begin without me. My dream of high school, of travel to far places, of a life beyond the farm, beyond Cedar Crossing, was fading into an unreachable distance. I dragged myself through my chores each day. Mama didn’t seem to notice, but one day Papa asked me what was the matter.
“Something troubling you, Anna? You worried about your sister?”
“Yes, Papa, there’s that. I do miss Mary Ellen, and worry about her. But...” I stopped. I didn’t want to make things any harder for Papa right now, and what could he do about high school anyway? “I guess I’m just tired. I’ll be all right.”
He looked at me intently, as though his blue eyes could penetrate my thoughts, but I turned away before he could see any hint of the longing I was trying to hide.
Uncle Jack continued to lounge about the kitchen at night, playing his banjo, or went down to the crossroads to play pinochle with some of his cronies. Papa must have convinced him not to drink, because I never smelled alcohol on his breath when he came back. Mama still had that disapproving look on her face whenever he was around, but the tension in the house seemed to have lifted a bit.
The next time Mama and Papa went into town to see Mary Ellen, they came home with the news that Aunt Grace was going to take her to Philadelphia.
While I was helping Papa unsaddle Dolly, he told me that Mary Ellen didn’t seem to be getting any better. “Doc Simpson thinks Dr. Grant, the one in Philadelphia who helped Aunt Grace years ago, might be able to help Mary Ellen too. He doesn’t know how long it will take, but he hopes it won’t be too long.”
“Oh, Papa,” I said. “Mary Ellen will get better, won’t she?”
Papa shook his head and his shoulders slumped. “I hope so. I surely do hope so.”
He stayed behind in the barn to feed Dolly, and I started up the path to the house. I was almost to the woodshed when I heard voices and the sound of scuffling. Uncle Jack came out of the woodshed, pushing a struggling Russ Irons ahead of him. He had Russ by the arm with one hand, and a firm grip on his shirt collar with the other.
I stopped dead, but before I could react any further, Russ jammed his elbows hard into Uncle Jack’s midriff and broke away. I had no idea why Uncle Jack had grabbed him, but I was sure Russ had been up to no good. As he ran past me, I flung myself at him and we both tumbled into the grass. I landed on my knees with Russ sprawled facedown beside me. When he raised his head and tried to sit up, I started pounding his back with my fists.
“You no-good, good-for-nothing I-don’t-know-what, how could you do that to my sister?”
“Quit punching me,” he yelled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned over and pushed me away.
“Liar!” I shook the hair out of my eyes, got to my feet, and glared at him as he scrambled to get up.
By now, Uncle Jack had caught his breath. He took hold of Russ and hooked an arm around his neck in a headlock.
“Let me go!” Russ shouted, trying to squirm out of Uncle Jack’s grip.
At that moment, Mama called from the kitchen, “Anna, where’s your father? My egg money jar’s on the floor and the money and the ring are gone!”
She appeared in the doorway and saw Russ still struggling to free himself.
“Oh my stars. Russell Irons! What are you doing here? Jack, what’s all the commotion about?”
“I went in the woodshed to get an axe and found this scoundrel hiding there. He tried to run, but Anna here stopped him with a mighty good tackle.” He grinned at me and I frowned back. I didn’t need Uncle Jack making fun of me right then.
“Well, somebody’s been in my kitchen!” Mama looked accusingly at Russ, who was still trying to break free from Uncle Jack’s grip.
“I think we’ll just see if this young fella knows anything about that,” said Uncle Jack. “Anna, take hold of his arms while I check his pockets.”
I hung on to Russ while Uncle Jack reached in his overall pocket and pulled out a fistful of change and Mama’s handkerchief still wrapped around the missing ring. The red stones glowed in the sunlight like drops of blood.
“Russ!” I exclaimed. “You’re the one stole the ring! How did you know about it anyway?”
“Speak up, boy!” Uncle Jack gave Russ a shake. “Explain yourself, and maybe we won’t cart you off to the sheriff, at least not right away.”
Russ looked around as though seeking an escape, but Uncle Jack had hooked his arm around Russ’s neck again. “I been home now for a few weeks.” he said finally. “I was layin’ low till some trouble with my uncle in Philly blowed over.”
Uncle Jack gave Russ’s head a little jerk. “Go on!”
Russ shifted from one foot to the other. “My brother told me about Sam finding the ring and givin’ it to Mary Ellen. I figured if I could get my hands on it, I could take it back to Philadelphia and get good money for it.”
By now, he had regained some of his cockiness. “Anyhow, it ain’t your ring neither, so you folks got no right to keep it any more’n I do.”
Mama was frowning and shaking her head. “But how did you find it so quickly? I was only out in the hen yard for a few minutes after we got home.”
Russ stared back at Mama. “Easy. I was hiding by the outhouse the other day, watching for my chance to get in and search the house, and I heard your girl, Rose, talking to an Aunt Somebody.”
He was talking about Rose’s imaginary Aunt Tree!
“She was telling this story ‘bout a red ring,” he went on, “and how her Mama wrapped it up and put it on the shelf behind the egg money.”
“But how did you know no one was here?” Mama demanded.
Russ shrugged and Uncle Jack gave his head another yank. “Answer the question!”
Russ glowered at Uncle Jack. “I just watched till none of you was around, then I went in, took the money and ring, and ran.”
Just then Papa came around the corner of the woodshed. When Uncle Jack and Mama told him what had happened, he gave Russ a stern look.
“You’re going to land yourself in a peck of trouble, boy, if you keep on this way. For your Ma’s sake, I wouldn’t want to see that happen.” He paused and scratched his head. I waited to hear what he would say.
“You’d better go back to your job in Philadelphia. We won’t turn you over to the sheriff this time, but I don’t want to see you on this farm again, or I’ll change my mind. Meanwhile, Jack here will see that you go on home and he’ll make sure your ma knows what you’ve been up to.”
