bailey

And within a few weeks, I did.

Aunt Maud had not been keen about my moving out. Grand-Dad finally broke into her chain of 'but what if this happens' with a quiet 'Maudie, do you really think I would send our Katie-girl out into harm's way?' after which she sighed heavily and began writing lists of things I could take with me to my new summer place.

It was arranged that Ford would drive me down, and to my surprise, Clary was in the front seat when we went out the door. Her face lit up. 'Kitty! Can you believe this? You're going to be living down the road from my cousin's house! Ford said I could ride along and I'll go see Judy Mae while you're getting settled. This is goin' to be so much fun!" Her enthusiasm made it easier to get in the car and ride away from the only home I remembered.

I couldn't resist a backwards glance at the house - was that shadow Aunt Maud standing behind the etched glass front door? -  and then we were gone.

Clary and Ford talked in soft tones while I lounged in back, cradling a wicker hamper that Clary's mama had sent with her so I wouldn't have to cook right away, and wondered if there had ever been a prettier day for changing destinies. Rowland slipped away as my thoughts went back and forth, and soon we were on the highway, avoiding trucks and laughing about signs on the side of the road. "The fruitcake capitol of the world?" My friend shot me a grin. "I didn't know Miss Venie had family here." She broke the tension, and we both giggled.

Bailey was a pretty town - shabby old houses set under huge trees jockeyed for position with newer low-slung homes, most with kids' toys in the yards. The sidewalks were wide and only crazed slightly with moss and treeroots, and the park was green and deep and cool.

I was beginning to get lost in my own sea of doubts - could I really live by myself? - when Ford slowed, then stopped the car. 'Taa-daa!' he said, pointing over the side of the car at a very overgrown patch of jungl-y bushes and vines. Off to one side there was a weedy driveway and a very small, ramshackle held-together-with-spit-and-hope building perched unsteadily on the edge.

Clary wrinkled her nose. "Really? That's it?"

Ford chuckled. " No, that's the shed. C'mon." He lifted one of my suitcases and a lamp and left me with the picnic basket, while Clara grabbed the mess of quilts and pillows I'd brought with me. We trudged up into the greenery, our feet making soft snicking sounds on the gravel. I was busily keeping branches away from my face when Ford stopped. "Well, Kitty, here it is."

I looked up  - it seemed to take a long time - and followed Ford's outstretched arm. Tucked up atop a gentle rise set a light-coloured house with a porch. The trees pressed in on it, making it look very close and dark, and the whole picture had an air of sadness at being forgotten.

Ford whistled. "I had no idea she'd look that bad. Grand-Dad said he'd had someone checking up on the house - he was told it was ready to move in. I'm not sure I should leave you here."

But I was curious, and afraid that if I left, I'd never come back. "C'mon. Let's go see the inside."

Ford produced a key, and the porch-boards groaned a few times but held when we walked across. The front door was a little warped and only gave way, screeching, when Ford strong-armed it, and the inside smelled close and stuffy but not musty, which probably meant there were no leaks in the roof. The interior (once Clary found a lightswitch) was nice - someone had loved this house. Clear colours and extensive mouldings were everywhere. There was even furniture - a stuffed chair there, a table here. Moving down the hall, I found a parlour with a small piano, and a big kitchen.

Clary had followed me. "Mm! Kitty, this will be lovely when you get the dust out of here. Look at all the windows!" There were lots of windows, and the kitchen was easily the brightest room in the house so far. I had a sudden flash of myself drinking coffee here, looking out over the porch into the backyard. It was a peaceful picture, and I felt a sudden swell of confidence. I could do this.

Ford was stomping around upstairs. Clary and I followed, stopping to exclaim over different details, and found him in one of the bedrooms, flipping a mattress on a bed. "I checked the taps - you do have water, and the lights work. These mattresses were covered with a sheet, so they shouldn't be too dusty for you to sleep on tonight, and tomorrow Clay will be here to tell you all about the town. He knows everything about this area."

My stomach was doing flip-flops at the thought of being left alone in a strange house. "You're not leaving now, are you?"

Clary  looked up from the quilt she was folding at the end of the bed, her eyes solemn as she took in how scared I was. "No, honey, we're gonna stay and eat some of Mama's fried chicken. Then Ford is gonna take me to see Judy Mae 'fore we head back." She dusted her hands together. "There. That's done. Let's go down and find some glasses and have some tea on your new porch."

Ford and I both followed her downstairs, Clary twittering about how lovely this would all be, how great this house was, how lucky I was to have such a fine place to call my own....

I was starting to feel much more cheerful about it all while Clary and I made lists of what I needed. We were debating a couch versus two big overstuffed chairs, digging out glasses for the thermos of cold tea her mom had sent, when Ford made a strange noise and I looked over to find him with his nose practically touching a photograph on the kitchen wall. He stepped back when I came near. "That's Stanton" he said. "Funny to see him so young."

The young man in the top hat and tails was unmistakably Grand-Dad, and the radiant woman on his arm could only be Ginny (as all her children and grandchildren had called her.) "Oh," said Clary, her voice soft, "it's their wedding-day picture."

I straightened suddenly. "Why is Grand-Dad's picture here? I thought he just bought the house a few years ago?"

Ford blew out his cheeks. "Well, yes. Grand-Dad bought the house back from Marion a few years ago. But really, the house hasn't been used since Phillip died."

Phillip was my fathers name. There was a buzzing in my ears. "My father lived here?"

Ford reached out to steady me. "Yes. This was the house he bought when he got married."

"Married - to Mama? This was Mama's house?"

"Yes, Kitty. This was your mothers home."

alice katherine

My mother had always been an enigma to me. She'd been happy during her marriage and pregnancy, Grand-dad had said, but sometime after my early, sudden, squalling birth, had decided she couldn't handle a second child and had....well, left.

Grand-Dad had searched, using the old boy network, and finding nothing, had quietly hired a series of private detectives to find her. Meanwhile, my father resolutely drank himself to death while staring out the window of Grand-Dad's house, watching for her to come home while I played on the floor. I had hazy memories of him, but mostly it was Maud and Grand-Dad that I thought of as parents.

Few mothers ran away from their months-old daughter. And even fewer just simply couldn't be found.

Grand-Dad said once that she was quieter through the winter as she grew heavy with child, more given to roaming the halls at odd hours and stroking her belly as she talked. They'd put it down to jitters, or fear of a second birth as hard as my brothers, and hadn't worried too much until she'd started laughing in response to conversations no one else could hear. It was decided that she was 'tired' and she spent a month at my aunt Georgia's house, but it only soothed her for a short while and soon she was roaming again, pacing the house in the moonlight.

I tried to imagine her, wide eyed and muttering, stalking the moon from one end of the house to the other, her hair pulled back, her hands clenching and unclenching as she walked. It was hard to superimpose that picture over the few photos I had of her - where she looked out, smiling and calm, dark eyes filled with what I thought of as love as she held me in her lap.

Then one night she'd taken her coat and gone out into the dark, and never come back.

There'd been a search, of course. Grand-Dad had enough pull with the State boys that Mama's face was plastered everywhere for months. But the leaflets had yellowed where they hung, and there was no trail. No body, either - they'd dredged several ponds and the marsh, and old wells and caves were prodded and checked.

She'd been gone twenty-two years. I'm older now than she was when she had me.

Grand-Dad walked for awhile, waving at a few people. We were close to the old railway station when he finally said "Katie, are you happy living here?"

His question surprised me so much I missed a step and nearly walked off the path. "Grand-Dad?"

 "Would you like to go somewhere else for awhile? I have a little house a couple of hours away from here - close enough so you could come and visit, but far enough so you could spread your wings and not spend your life taking care of us old folks." His eyes twinkled. "Maybe for the summer?"

I was sure I'd mis-heard him. I'd lived in Rowland almost my entire life.

He was quick to read my mood. "It's not a punishment, Katie. I need someone to oversee a few things for me in Bailey, and I thought you'd be perfect for the job. It's a bit of hard work....but there should be plenty of times for fun too."

He nodded at Mrs. Dailey, who was clipping her peonies. "Just think about it, Katherine." The rest of the walk was pretty quiet. Grand-Dad seemed lost in his thoughts, while I wasn't sure my head could contain mine. Did Maud know? Would she agree to this? Did I want to strike out on my own?

The house was still when we returned. Ford had taken Maud to her club, and Clary must have gone back home. Grand-Dad headed off to his study, and I took the broom with me out on the back porch, but after a few sweeps I gave up and headed for the closest rocker, mulling over what Grand-Dad had said.

Ford pulled in to the driveway, music blaring, and I gave him a grin.  "Where's Clary?"
He rolled his eyes. "You know darn well that Maud would rather go to church with mismatched shoes on than be seen with Clary Johnson. You should have seen her when she realized the top was down on the car." Ford was a good mimic. "Fo-ORD! You do NOT expect me to GET in THERE, do you?"

My uncle and I had always gotten along. He came and sat near me. "Did Grand-Dad ask you about the house in Bailey?"

I nodded, still giggling a little about Maud and surprised he knew.

"I think you should do it, Katherine."

from playing dolls to kicks and falls

There are ordinary days where everything is swimming along, just a normal day, and suddenly (suddenly) you realize: the kids are growing up.

We threw out Rosey's bedraggled playhouse today. She was teary-eyed but agreed that it was time - it was ripped in a few places, and creased in others - and only squeaked a little. She kept a glittery painted piece "to have" and we cleaned out the front porch of about a million (hint: Roo does NOT EVER NO NEVER need any more Barbies) plastic dolls......

and then we put up a punching bag. So the boy can round-kick and front-jab.

Wow, they're growing up.

the horror of it all

We're moving the office at one of my jobs - started this morning, will probably take another stab at it and complete the move next week. We're moving into some offices in the same building as the public library - I don't think I need to tell you that I'm looking forward to this!

But today was moving day, and it was sweaty and grunt-y and not-so-much-fun, made even less so when it was discovered that our secure locking storeroom....wouldn't unlock. So I had to babysit the document boxes until a solution could be found. "No problem!" I thought. "I'm AT THE LIBRARY. I"ll just grab something to read."

(There was a certain amount of glee running through my psyche at that moment.)

Really, what could be better? I'd just.....

Then I realized I was too early and the library didn't open for another hour and the earth wept and teeth were gnashed and a storm blew in. Or maybe that was just me.

Yes. I was LOCKED OUT of the library.



Thank God I have a Kindle app on my cell phone.

uncle ford

Uncle Ford was grinning at Clary when I came into the kitchen, bumping her shoulder all friendly-like and leaning in to whisper. She shoved him away when she heard my step on the stairs and turned to me. "Kitty! What are you up to today?"

Yes, it was strange having my friend date my uncle.  Aunt Maud would never let Ford forget that he was thirteen years older than that Johnson chippy. After all, (disapproving sniff) what would the neighbors say? I think if she didn't have such a broad and obvious sweet spot for Ford, Maud would have hassled him until he agreed to give up the foolishness of dating a local girl. But he was the son of her favorite son, so she grumbled and tight-lipped and yet did nothing concrete to stop his budding romance. If she'd cut off his allowance, he'd have straightened up. Uncle Ford was very comfortable having his life financed.

After all, what was worth more - independence, or free room and board?

I smiled at Clary. "Just finishing up the dishes, then I might have a walk down to the wharf.  There might be some bluefish in."

Uncle Ford mugged at Clary, winking at me. "Never mind her, Clara. Let's take a drive."

I dumped the dishes in the waiting water, trying not to be a little hurt that I wasn't the one Ford wanted to take for a spin (I loved riding in his convertible!) and blocking out most of the noise they made giggling at each other before they left.

Finished at last, I took my book into the front parlour and was just getting comfortable when Aunt Maud's bell went off. It wasn't three seconds later that I heard her call for me. (Maud was never a patient person.)

Grumbling a little, I got up. It wasn't until I was right outside her door that I remembered I'd forgotten the tea. On the off chance that she wanted something else, I stuck my head in. She was scowling down at her mail and barely looked up. "Tea, Katherine. My tea. Stanton will be home soon, and he doesn't have time to wait."

I made a face at her grey curly head and went back for her cup.

The front door slammed just as I got back upstairs. Grand-dad's voice boomed along the halls. "Where's my girl?"

"Just a second, Grand-Dad. I'm up with Maud."

A minute later, he pushed the door open himself. "Hello, Maudie." His voice was soft. Grand-Dad was always very gentle with his sister, even when she was being her worst cantankerous self. I'd only heard him raise his voice to her once. He winked when he saw me.

"What are you doing inside on such a beautiful day, Katie-girl?"

Aunt Maud harrumphed. "Katherine is finishing up in the kitchen, and then she is taking me to my bridge club. As she usually does on Wednesday afternoons, Stanton."

Grand-Dad coughed and sent her a chiding look. "I thought Katie might like to come out with me this afternoon. I don't have any appointments this afternoon, so I thought she and I'd get a breath of fresh air. Perhaps Ford would take you to the club."

Maud grumbled, but agreed. I hurried to change out of my dungarees and jerk a quick comb through my hair. Where were we going to go today?

My grandfather knew everyone in town. As we strolled along, he'd point to a house and tell me stories about the people that lived there. Or, even better, stories about the people that used to live there and how things were when the town was thriving and new.

And sometimes - sometimes, I could get him to talk about my mother.

auntie maud

'What?' she said, looking up from her ledger, blinking at me over her half-spectacles.
'Nothing', I shrugged, 'Just wanted to see what you were up to.'

She gestured at the half-eaten lunch there among the blankets. 'You can take that away, Kitty. I'm finished."

I wanted to scold, to tell her she should eat more, that her doctor and my grandfather and her friends said she should eat more, but I held my tongue. Some things just aren't worth fighting with your great-aunt about.
Besides, she would eat, sooner or later. She was just in a snit (although she'd never admit to it) about Uncle Ford courting 'that woman'. And I hovered on the fence, afraid to comment for fear I'd piss her off, since she owned the house I lived in - and 'that woman' was my best friend.

Clary and I didn't meet under the best of circumstances. I spent a few years wishing she would just move away, since she and I both picked out Daniel Randall for our beaus. (A mistake I quickly rectified when Dover came home the first day of seventh grade and told us his new pals' nickname at school was 'Dandy Randy.' Maud did NOT approve.)Still, he was a hero at school (my brother included) because he could spit all the way across the cafeteria, and he had a habit of leaving frogs around for Miss Venie to find, usually with great screaming and flapping (even for a teacher used to boys and their tricks.)

One night at the Grange Hall we both ended up in the bathroom at the same time. She asked if she could borrow my lipstick (I said no, of course, it was my favourite one, the perfect pale pink to go with my dress) and was totally disarmed when she cheerfully plopped her purse down in the sink and said 'I didn't figure you'd let me, but no harm in tryin'. Can you believe that Eddie Myers? I'm almost certain he put his hand on my butt.' I couldn't help it. I leaned over and said, full of scorn, 'Don't you know if someone's hand is on your behind? I'd slap Eddie Myers, if I that was me.' Clary brushed some wisps of hair back behind her ears. 'Weeeell,' she said, looking intently in the mirror, 'I'm sure somebody touched my butt. I'm not sure, though, if it was Eddie. Could have been (she cut her eyes up at me) Danny Randall.' I sucked in my breath. "You are rude, Clary Johnson! I shouldn't even be talking to you."
I turned to flounce away and she reached out and grabbed my arm.
"Don't be mad, Kitty. I was jus' playin'. Besides, everyone knows he's been looking for you all night."
She was lying but I ate it up. "You think so?"
Clary nodded. "Sure. You gonna kiss him?"

Great-Aunt Maud cleared her throat. "Kitty, why are you standing there? I asked you to clear this away! Now run on and go find your Uncle Ford. I need him to do something for me."
More like making sure he wasn't out on the porch kissing Clary Johnson, I thought, but just nodded. 'Of course, Aunt Maudie. Want me to bring up some cookies later with your tea?' She hemmed for a moment. "Who baked them?"

 I grinned at her. "Mrs. Johnson."

small town, big lights

Right now I'm sitting on a car hood, watching a drive in movie. This in itself isn't spectacular (although with the scarcity of drive-ins, it kinda is) but I'm sitting on a car hood, watching The Lorax at the drive in movie at the school. 

My childrens' school is so conscious of the families nearby and what would draw us all together, that they began showing drive-in movies in the heart of our community - the school. 

(Literally - the screen is up on the building!)

There are no stars tonight - it's actually spitting a little, but for the families sitting in their cars and trucks it matters little - they're cozy, full of popcorn and nachos from the concession stand, and watching a movie.  Little ones curl in the backseats, pillowed heads just peeping up over the headrests, while the adults grin at the memories of Saturday nights spent at drive-ins when they were young.

The village school - this same place that's drawing families and the community as a whole together is on the review list. It's becoming harder and harder not to express my frustration with this.

But on nights like tonight, watching the delighted faces and hearing an owl far off in the woods? It doesn't seem to matter. This is good and lasting and making memories. This school is doing what schools all over the country should be doing - working hard to keep their communities  interested and involved. 

This is worth it. 

This is worth it.

juris doctor

The candles were guttering out in the pale light when I found him, head down on the table, an empty bottle clutched in his hand. There was a wrapper stuck to his cheek, pizza boxes thrown on the floor, and his buddy Travis was raising the roof with his snores on the half-broken daybed in the corner. It must have been a great night.

Not that I blamed him for cutting loose. It had been a long winter, and an even more tedious spring, tests and exams and study study study, punctuated every once in awhile with pop quizzes and fits of bleak black depression where he insisted that he'd never make to graduation, never ever never, and what kind of man was he that he'd let his girl get a job and put him through school? Never mind that I wanted him to succeed, was sure that he would make an incredible lawyer, loved his fight and his grit and his unbending sense of justice and fairness, was awed by his determination and the solid good core of him.

But now....now it was time to get him up. I moved around to his side. 'Ry? Wake up, honey.'

He spluttered something and re-settled. I shook his shoulder, which got me a 'hmmmmm?' and a fluttering of his eyelids. Okay. Time to pull out the big guns.

I bent down and said loudly into his ear "Ryan! The baby's coming!' and stepped back a few paces when he almost hit the roof. He was on his feet, his eyes wide with shock. 'Wha? Wha? Dory, you can't be.....' his words slowed when he realized I wasn't rushing out the door or showing any kind of discomfort. Instead, I was grinning at him.

'No, I can't be. Honey, I'm only five months along. But here....I got the mail. And....this is addressed to you.'

I handed over the plain white envelope that held our futures and watched as he held it in his hands, then shrugged a little and opened the seam.  He read for a moment, then the the sun came out in his face as he smiled.

'I sit the bar in July.'

shine less

I see her walking by and I wonder if she's seeing me.

No, she's not made eye contact or done a half-wave or any of the other furtive motions we make when you spy someone you're not sure about. Just the quick, quick of her heels clicking on the pavement and  the whoosh of the stroller in front of her. The child inside looks bored.  He's clutching what looks like a dirty doughnut (or it's a....dog toy?) and a sippy cup.  I only see him quickly, though, long enough to register his long eyelashes curling down on his cheeks, and then they turn the corner and are gone.

I put down my cup and lean in to talk to the man across from me, knowing that she'll be back. She walks the town every day, and where we sit is on the loop.

The coffee shop is busy, and smells like raisins and danish. When the front door opens, a blast of scent eddies out into the street and you can see passersby blink and smile, snorting in the sudden goodness. The bells tinkle on the door and the waitresses pour good coffee and chat about the weather and the local goings-on. It's a great place to see your neighbors and figure out what the latest scuttlebutt is. Or just people watch.

My companion is droning on about health care (on a bright sunny day like today it's hard to take dire statistics and Department of Health pseudo-scandals seriously, so I'm only half-paying attention) and I watch as the woman with the bright blonde hair approaches again, this time on the other side of the street. She stops in front of the post office, adjusts the still-sleeping boy's shirt, and turns the other corner, her hair flicking out like a metronome.

I've never asked why she walks - if she's running from (or to) something, if she's escaping demons or merely has a colicky babe.We've spoken, and we know each other's names, but we're not close enough to do anything more than wave or grin if we catch sight of each other. She appears then is gone again down the alley. Does she think about me and wonder why I would choose to stay so tethered to a chair? Why we're not all out wandering and exploring town? And I wonder - whose way is better?

hurry scurry, time will flurry

The end of the school year is always a bittersweet time. The kids are longing to get it all over with, but there's still that little part of them that doesn't really believe that it will ever end and is horrified when it does.
The school building itself must feel the excitement. (It does, after all, frankly hum in the air.)

This month is crazy at school. There is a bike rodeo and the release of small salmon that the kids have raised from eggs. (One class will also be setting monarch butterflies free.) There will be drive-in movies (see, I told you the village school was magical!) beginning this Saturday night, and a huge weekend camping trip for the older grades. There will be a beach day for all the students. (See, when you grow up near the ocean (and have fearless teachers) the whole school gets to go on field trips to the Atlantic.)

There will be a graduation held for our sixth graders and goodbyes to the vice-principal.

And then there will be silence. The doors will be locked, and for three months the only sounds will be from the community groups that use the building.

Kinda a shock to the old weathered school, but I like to think it dozes in the sunshine, waiting for fall to make it come alive again.

Waiting, happily, for the children.

They grow up too fast

 This morning during the whole 'Ahh! Must leave for work NOW!' madness, Bear was hollering for his shoes and I, half-paying-attention and on my way to the bedroom from a swooping run for the dryer and the sock bucket, was pointing out 'There, there, do you see them THERE' and was stopped by B's puzzled "Those aren't mine."

 

"What? Of course they're yours. I wore them yesterday when I was tromping around."

 

(I have big feet.)

Bear grabbed out another pair. "No, mine are here. See? Different colour."

 

"Well then whose are....." there was a pause before our eyes met in horrified realization.

 

Yesterday, I wore my son's shoes. All day. Comfortably.

 

Cass is TEN, and apparently going to be tall like his grandfather.

 

I am in so much trouble. I also need bigger bricks.