Previously: Tension between Noah and Jonah rise with the sale of Granddad’s Wood-Mizer. Reinhardt and Jonah have a fruitless search for morels.
AS THE BOYS came up from the woods, they saw a car turn off the road into their lane. It cut the corner early and left a rut in the green grass. Captain came out from his hiding and was watching the car with a cocked head.
“That’s not our parents,” Reinhardt said.
“Obviously not,” Jonah confirmed. “This fellow can’t drive worth a damn; did you see how he nearly went into the ditch? Even Captain doesn’t know what to make of it. Come on, I’ll race you there, and we can run this jokester off before he bothers Grandma.”
Together they took off. Reinhardt kept up with Jonah until the fencepost corner where Jonah sprinted ahead. The person in the car became visible.
“Leslie!” Jonah hollered. “So, look at you, driving. I see and believe.”
She got out of the snazzy ’87 Buick Regal, face beaming. “Pretty slick, I know.” She opened her sequined purse and caught the afternoon sun off the surface of her freshly laminated driver’s license.
“Incredible.” Jonah nodded.
Reinhardt came up behind them out of breath. “Thirsty. Jonah, we forgot our root beers.”
“Oh yeah, Reinhardt, you met Leslie—Leslie, Reinhardt. Reinhardt, Leslie. We forgot our Frostops back over there,” Jonah waved randomly, “but that’s okay.”
“I could drive you there, or better yet, we could go into town! A root beer float sounds good,” Leslie said.
Jonah glanced around then said, “I like it. Reinhardt, go get my wallet from my night stand. We’ll go, but I need to check on our Berkshires first.”
“What’s Berkshires?”
“Just our pigs, Berkshire is the breed. We’ve got some piglets. Do you like little baby pigs?”
“I love anything that’s a baby!”
“Great.” Jonah smiled.
She wrinkled her nose. “But are they stinky?”
“You’ll have to tell me. Come on.”
In the farrowing barn the piglets were a lively bunch. Some chased each other about interrupting the ones snoozing in the straw. One piglet ran across two little piglets that were burrowed down deep in the straw; all three for a moment were a jumbled mess of hooves and squeals. Once the instigator got right-side-up again he was quick to be off running around, while the others nestled back down. Their pink noses rested so close to one another’s that they touched.
“Aww look, it’s like they’re kissing.” The girl pointed to the pair.
“Yeah, they’re a snuggly bunch. Is it too stinky for you?”
“It’s a little stinky,” she admitted.
“Do you want to come up in the loft?” Jonah stood at the base of the ladder. “Won’t be as smelly up there.”
The girl looked up the ladder towards the loft. “It looks dark up there.”
“Once I open a hatch, it’s not too bad.”
“I’ll watch the pigs from here.”
“Okay, well I’m going to throw corncobs out the back. Once the sows go out, we can catch a piglet for you to pet if you want.”
“Really? That would be great.”
While Jonah was in the loft, Reinhardt returned. He looked at the girl. “Is Jonah up top?”
“Yeah.”
He looked into the stalls. “Bedding looks fresh enough, you think?”
“I wouldn’t know. What’s bedding? The hay?”
“Well, it’s straw, but yeah, I just mean the pens look clean. Excuse me; I have to check their water.” Reinhardt went back out around the side of the barn.
“Jonah,” she called up the hatch, “the big momma pigs are going out the back. Are you coming back down?”
Suddenly his head poked over the loft’s edge. “Just now, one moment,” he said. Soon he was descending the ladder. The girl observed his deft movements.
“The guys in my gym class, some of them are so awkward,” Leslie said.
“Huh?”
She smiled. “When you move around and work, it’s obvious you know what you’re doing.”
“Oh, thanks.” He fumbled with the latch to the stall; the tips of his ears started to burn. “Tell me that right before I try catching a piglet.” He got the latch open with a sudden violent shake—“Heh, finicky old latch”—and went for one of the nesting piglets, but they lunged away from him and he missed.
She laughed. “I guess your agility training comes from real world experiences, not dodging balls in a gymnasium.”
“Where’s that little rascal that was running around earlier?” He brushed his hands around in the straw. “See, he’ll be all tuckered out now. Ah-ha!” Jonah took a quick step and grabbed, and up from the straw hoisted his prize, “Gotcha’.” The black and white Berkshire let out a squeal of protest, but in Jonah’s practiced arms he calmed down.
“Look at his little nose; he’s so adorable,” Leslie said as she tried to pet it.
“Here, try this.” Jonah pushed down on the piglet’s snout and it fought back. Leslie did likewise. With the same determination the piglet rooted up. The more she pushed down the more it pushed back.
“That’s so cute! Why does he do that?”
“It’s rooting—just an instinct like human babies grabbing things with their hands.”
She continued fondling over the piglet, petting the coarse black coat or trying to scratch the white patch on its face.
“Do you want to try holding him?”
“Oh no, too scared I’d drop him.”
At that moment Reinhardt returned. “I think the pens look clean enough.”
“Yeah,” Jonah agreed. He set the piglet down in the straw.
“I topped off the water.”
“So, we’re all set?” Leslie asked.
Jonah was pulling the stall door against the latch. “Yeah, we’re all set. Reinhardt, grab me a piece of twine, this latch is getting finicky.” A barrel sat in the aisle that held discarded twine from the straw bales used for bedding, and from this Reinhardt grabbed a piece. Jonah fashioned a square knot to hold the gate closed. “And did you grab my wallet?”
“Yeah.” Reinhardt handed Jonah his wallet.
He peeked within the billfold and cringed. “Ha, Reinhardt grabbed my wrong wallet.”
“You have two wall—?”
“Shut up, Reiner. Hey look, why don’t you two hop in the car? I’ll be right back; I call shotgun.”
Jonah darted into the house. In his parents’ room he pinched a five-dollar bill from a small stack of small bills hidden in the back of his dad’s underwear drawer.
Back outside, Leslie was waiting in the driver’s seat, and Reinhardt had the back seat door open but was waiting outside the car.
“Alright, that should do it,” Jonah said, as he came to the car, holding up his wallet. “Let’s go.”
He was about to enter “shot-gun” when Reinhardt asked, “Should I tell Grandma we’re leaving?”
“You didn’t already?” Reinhardt shook his head. Jonah already had one leg in the car door. “I thought you were showing her the Jacob’s Ladder flowers?”
“Oh! I forgot all about them.” Reinhardt dug the flowers out of this shirt pocket. They were sad, wilted, and brown.
Jonah laughed. “Come on, let’s go already.” With that he hopped in and closed the door.
Reinhardt hesitated, looking at the sad bouquet, but when Leslie turned on the engine, he mumbled something about “Don’t leave yet,” dropped the vegetation, and jumped in.
“Buckle up everyone.” The car creeped down the lane and gravel crunched under the wheels. They rolled the windows down—fresh air flooded the interior.
Reinhardt waved a good-bye to Captain who had resumed his lounging. “Next time you see us we’ll have some ice cream!” Reinhardt yelled out the window to him.
“Who's that?” Leslie asked.
“Our dog, Captain,” said Reinhardt.
Jonah rolled his eyes. “But he’s not a very good dog anymore.”
“Why do you say that?” Leslie asked.
“He’s an Australian shepherd. They’re supposed to be good trackers, but he’s never found a thing. I think he must feel like a failure,” Jonah concluded.
Leslie’s car reached the end of the lane. “Well, I hope you won’t fail me.”
“Huh?” Jonah’s face reddened.
“I have no idea which way to root beer floats.”
“Oh,” Jonah exhaled, “right. Take a right.” He turned the radio up. “This is interesting.”
“This is M. C. Lyte, do you know her?” she sang along with a line of chorus, “it’s so good, all about being real. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah, totally.”
Leslie turned the music back down. “I actually asked for some music for my birthday, but my mom said it had a ‘parental advisory.’” She rolled her eyes. “Parents, always cramping your style, or dragging you places you don’t want to go.”
“Ha! That’s been this past year for me,” Jonah said.
“Really? I’m telling you, it’s constant.”
“Yeah, I guess come to think of it, you're right.” Jonah thought about it. “Yesterday, I’m trying to sleep, and Dad wakes us up at what was practically five a.m., for what? Church service.”
“That’s just like my mom, constantly trying to drag me to Mass.” Leslie pulled up to a stop sign and asked, “Which way from here?”
“Turn west,” Jonah looked at her expression and clarified, “turn left, then in another two or three miles we’ll be in St. Marys, the ice cream parlor is at the first traffic light.”
Reinhardt asked, “So you’re Catholic?”
“Huh?” Leslie asked as she made a wide left turn running the passenger’s side wheel off the asphalt a bit.
“Mass.”
“Oh, I don’t know, I mean my mom goes to Mass,” Leslie explained, “but my dad goes to synagogue or at least he did in Cincinnati. He wanted to go all the way down there for Passover—couldn’t get off work, which apparently has him depressed as hell, new transfer and all. But me,” Leslie said resolutely, “I’m just sincere. You know what I mean? All this religious stuff just causes problems.”
“Sincerity’s good,” Jonah agreed.
Reinhardt said with a puzzled look, “So does that mean you’re Catholic or Jewish?”
Jonah turned the radio back up, drowning Reinhardt’s question out; then he spoke loudly over the radio, “So, I forgot, I know you said your dad was transferred and all, but what does he do?”
Great job on this chapter C. M. and the story is smooth, flowing well. - Jim