Previously: Father and Sons discuss Granddad’s whereabouts. Parents are coy at the dinner table. Family attends Good Friday Service where Pastor John reads from the Gospel of Matthew.
THE AUSTRALIAN shepherd rested under the conifers. During the winter, he spent his time under the porch. As spring marched across the landscape, he settled under the windbreak, which lined the west side of the farm. Under the trees, a perpetual cycle of fresh pine needles kept the dog’s hovel dry and comfortable. From this vantage, he observed the days. He could see down the lane to Moulton New Knoxville Road. Languid brown eyes watched the Saturday morning traffic. The spring view and the sporting it provided was good: a tractor and planter chugged down the road before dawn, several trucks loaded with seed bags sped by, and a black LeBaron convertible unexpectedly turned off the road and crept up the lane. Ears pulled the rest of his head, neck, and body up into sentinel position. He barked and charged the car. The car continued its slow creep, and the dog jogged beside it.
The man was ducking behind the car door. He remained there until Noah came from the shed. “That’ll do, Cap’n.” Captain retreated to the porch steps.
Eleanor came out and pet him on the head. “I haven’t seen you in a while,” she said.
“Good morning, Sir. The name’s Ed,” said the man as he exited the convertible. He wore a neat black suit and tie. Extending his hand, he continued, “Is this Brandtmeyer Farms?”
“Depends,” Noah said. “Who’s asking?”
“I can see you’re an inquisitive fellow. Perhaps I may take a minute of your time to pique your interest?” He didn’t wait for a response, “Imagine after a hard day’s work, reclining by the fireplace, feet up, you look to your bookshelf and there, in illustrious glory, the whole Britannica Encyclopedia Series!”
“Oh,” Noah said. “No, but thanks. That indeed sounds quite nice, but honestly you came to the wrong place. We sincerely don’t have a dime to spare.”
Nodding in apologetic sympathy, Ed continued, “Very well, here, take a pamphlet in case your situation changes.” From inside his suit pocket, he procured a pamphlet. He stepped up close to Noah and opened it towards him. He winked. At first Noah didn’t look at the pamphlet but frowned at the man’s behavior. But when he saw the pamphlet, he understood. Clipped inside was a handwritten note: “I appreciate an honest man looking to make an honest buck.” A phone number was listed and “call Monday, ask for Valerie, tell her you are requesting details regarding ‘Operation Panzerfäust.’”
“You just give that number a call if you want to make a deal,” Ed said, placing his hand on Noah’s arm with another wink. “You understand?”
“I do, thank you,” Noah confirmed.
The man gave a courteous farewell to Eleanor and jumped in his car. They waved goodbye. Captain escorted the LeBaron back to the tree line where he resumed his lounging.
Eleanor said, “Strange. He must make a lot of money selling books to wear a suit like that with a car that matches.” Noah stashed the pamphlet in the back pocket of his jeans.
“Yeah,” he muttered, “suppose so.”
Eleanor came to his side and put her arm around him. “One nice thing about having no money, it provides an honest refusal.” She looked up at him and smiled.
“Very true,” Noah affirmed.
“I’m headed over to Mother’s. The boys are there now.” Noah stared blankly. “It’s pie baking day,” she reminded him.
“You and the boys are helping Grandma now?” Noah asked.
She nodded and with a smile said, “Your mother already has the boys out back cutting the rhubarb.”
“I was just going to head down to the cemetery—see if the seeds are germinating.”
“Okay, dear,” Eleanor gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Maybe hang up a sign at the end of the lane that says, ‘No Soliciting.’”
Noah smiled. “Okay, Ella.”
Once alone, Noah fetched a shovel from the shed, placed it in the truck-bed, and drove down to the prairie. He parked next to the barbed wire fence post that ran along the roadside. The country road was empty from horizon to horizon. From under his seat, he grabbed the lantern he had purchased at Traders Co. He stowed it with the shovel in the hollow of a decaying black locust, which grew behind the graves.
As he walked back to his truck, he passed the stone markers just as he had scores of other times. This time a chill ran down his spine, and the words from the service the night before came to his lips, “The earth did quake; and the rocks were rent, and the tombs…” He shuddered, shook off the chill, and drove home.
Rhubarb apple pie cooled on the summer kitchen’s window sill. The boys, excused from their baking obligations, had taken up a game of catch in the front yard under the catalpas. Noah wandered from the shed, drawn out like a bee to a flower, by the intoxicating aroma wafting from the sill. The rhythmic sound of baseball smacking leather filled his ears. From within the summer kitchen, Eleanor saw her husband. She saw a strange expression on his face—a distraught gaze. He began to rub his chest as though a pain ailed him. She came out to him.
“Are you alright?” she asked.
“I spent the last hour walking around the barnyard imagining dollar signs on everything,” Noah said exasperated. “It’s the smell of the pie, the boys in the yard, even the depressing irony of Captain pining under the pines. I can’t bear the thought of losing it all.”
“We would still have each other,” his wife offered, “and it’s not the physical location that makes a home.”
“I don’t know, Ella, I don’t know.” He shook his head and put an arm around her waist. “I think much of this is wrapped up in who we are.” He held his free arm out to capture the setting. “Sure, it doesn’t define us, but you cannot deny the influence this place has on our lives.”
“That’s true.”
“I can’t lose that, Eleanor. I won’t.” Noah clenched his fist.
Eleanor looked uncertain. “Why don’t you come inside? Spend time with me while I help your mother with Easter eggs. We finished the pies; maybe we can entice Mother to give us a slice.” She took his hand and smiled.
“Alright,” Noah agreed. He hollered at the boys, “Sons, want to help with the eggs?”
“Not five anymore, Dad; already told Mom that,” Jonah yelled back without pausing in his sport.
Noah and Eleanor exchanged glances and the two laughed. Together they went back inside.
The night was lit by a full moon; silver light casted shadows in the dark. Noah kept moving about under the sheets.
“What’s the matter, Noah?”
“Nothing, Ella. I’m just going to get some water. Go back to sleep.”
He got out of bed and stood by the window sill. A shiver passed over him though the night was warm. In the kitchen, he took a glass of water in an attempt to calm his nerves, but a chill continued to crawl down his back. Tick-tock-tick-tock the clock called from the living room, and a rocking chair and lamp drew him in. From the side-table he picked up his Bible and opened to the reading from the Good Friday service. Before reading anything, he closed the Bible, holding the spot with his fingers, and turned his eyes away.
Minutes passed as he sat in the rocker, a twilight sleep flitting on his eyelids. The Bible slid lower and lower where it rested on his knee. A slip and a bump startled him back again. The Bible had toppled to the floor and was laid open to the spot he had marked. “The earth did quake; and the rocks were rent; and the tombs were opened.” The words seared his sleepy eyes. Noah frowned at the passage.
“Fine, have it your way,” he muttered, setting the Bible back on the side-table. He reached to switch off the lamp when the tick of the clock caught his ear again—the hands close to meeting at midnight. Taking it from the wall he advanced the hands past the hour of twelve o’clock to one o’clock. No longer shivering, he switched the lamp off, went back into the bedroom, closed the blinds, and went to sleep.
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Story just gets better and better. Loved this line talking worrying about losing the farm, “I think much of this is wrapped up in who we are.” Great job C. M. - Jim