Journey With the Comet

by Dana Wayne Haley

  —1—

  When Leona finished describing her dream, Margaret had a surprise for her daughter.

  “To celebrate the end of the war with Germany, your Papa and I were planning on taking you kids somewhere special. Obviously we can’t afford to visit Australia or China to verify your dream, but we can take a trip to Acadia so you can see if your dream is as real as you think it is. Your Papa and I talked about taking you kids there during the summer, but we never found the time. However, with this warm Indian Summer weather we’re having, Friday is as good a day as any.

  “Now, isn’t it your turn to fetch the eggs this morning? Why don’t you run out to the chicken coop and do just that; and, in return, I’ll fix you a tasty omelet for breakfast. And while I’m doing that, Leona, you can fetch me a pail of water from the well; we’re fresh out.”

  “Okay, Mama, right away.”

  Just then there was a knock on the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Leona said.

  When she opened the door, she saw Jill and her mother Mary standing there. The Haleys had invited them for Thanksgiving. This would be their first Thanksgiving after Mr. Jensen’s death, and Margaret didn’t want them to celebrate it alone.

  “Hello, Mrs. Jensen,” Leona said. “Come on in; we’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Why thank you, Leona,” Mary said. “We could smell your mother’s cooking a mile away.”

  “Come on into the kitchen, Mary,” Margaret yelled.

  “Jill, you want to help me fetch some eggs and water?” Leona asked.

  “Sure,” she answered.

  Jill and Leona ran out the side door, heading for the chicken coop near Murdock’s small stable. All the while, Leona was thinking about the trip to Acadia and about the delicious Thanksgiving dinner her mother was preparing. She wanted badly to tell Jill about her dream, but she thought it best to wait until after the Acadia trip.

  “What can I do to help, Maggie?” Mary asked when she walked into the kitchen.

  “You can baste the turkey if you’d like,” she replied.

  “I’d be happy to,” Mary replied. “Will Eunice be joining us today?”

  “No, she’s spending Thanksgiving with Mae and Maude,” Margaret replied.

  “Why didn’t you join them?” Mary asked.

  “We wanted our first Thanksgiving in Glenburn to be peaceful and relaxing,” Margaret laughed. “When all our kids get together, it gets a little hectic.”

  “Oh, I see. By the way, Maggie, I want to thank you for inviting us to your Thanksgiving. It will help take Jill’s mind off her father’s absence. That reminds me, I’ve been meaning to tell you: Leona has been a godsend for Jill.”

  “You’re more than welcome here anytime, Mary; and I’m glad to hear that Leona is helping ease Jill’s pain.”

  When Leona and Jill returned with the eggs and a bucket of water, Margaret thanked them and said:

  “Now, Leona, while I fry these for your breakfast, would you please go down to the cellar and fetch me a jar of pumpkin, turnip and squash, and eight potatoes. Then later on you girls can help me peel them so they’ll be ready to boil around eleven; that’ll give me plenty of time to mash ‘em and have dinner ready by noon. I think the turkey will be done by then.”

  —2—

  Margaret, Mary, and the girls had the meal on the table right on time, and Lillian fetched her father from the woodshed where he was splitting wood. After he washed up and joined them at the dining room table, Murdock began to say grace, but Mrs. Jensen interrupted him.

  “Do you mind if I say grace, Murdy?”

  “Certainly not, Mary, go right ahead,” he answered.

  “Dear Lord, we thank You for blessing us with this wonderful Thanksgiving meal, and for all the miraculous things You do. And Jill and I want to especially thank You for blessing us with such wonderful neighbors: the Haleys. Amen.”

  When she finished everyone else said “Amen” and Margaret said: “That was a wonderful prayer, Mary. Now everyone dig in!”

  Murdock grabbed the large carving knife Margaret had placed on the table for him and began carving the turkey. While he carved, Margaret started passing bowls of food around the table. She first picked up the bowl of mashed potatoes and passed it to Mary, who took some potatoes for herself and Jill before passing the bowl to Lillian. After she took what she wanted, Lillian passed the bowl to Arlene so she could do the same. Leona was next in line, and finally Margaret put some potatoes on Wally’s plate, on her husband’s plate, and then on her plate. That process was repeated for the bowls containing stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce, mashed pumpkin, mashed turnip, mashed squash, and corn on the cob.

  By the time everyone had their plates loaded with food, Murdock had finished carving the turkey and gave everyone the portions of dark and white meat they desired. Then they began to eat, not concerned in the least with their diets, only with savoring Margaret’s Thanksgiving meal, as was always the case for the Haleys. Somehow, it seemed tastier this year, maybe because it was their first one in Glenburn. Murdock was the first to compliment Margaret’s dinner.

  “You’ve outdone yourself again, Maggie. I swear, this is your best Thanksgiving dinner ever.”

  Leona smiled when he said that, because he said the same thing every year. Even so, she couldn’t refute the veracity of what he said.

  “I haven’t tasted your Thanksgiving dinner before, Maggie,” Mrs. Jensen said, “but I’d have to say that, as far as I’m concerned, your cooking can’t be beat.”

  As Leona was savoring her food, she noticed the satisfied look on her father’s face, and when she saw him eating his mashed potatoes she realized that Thanksgiving and Christmas were the only days of the year when he didn’t eat potatoes that were cut into small squares: his signature habit.

  “I’m so full I could burst,” Murdock said when he was done eating. His children felt the same, as did Mary and Jill.

  “Well, you’re gonna hav’ta make room for pie,” Margaret said. “I didn’t slave over the hot stove cooking them just to have them go to waste.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that, Maggie,” Murdock said. “Just give me a few minutes to digest what I’ve already eaten.”

  “No problem,” Margaret said, “I’ve got a few stories to tell anyway.”

  The children’s eyes lit up, because if their mother’s cooking hadn’t been so good, her stories would have been the thing they looked forward to the most on Thanksgiving. Leona had told Jill about her mother’s storytelling skills, so she couldn’t wait to experience it firsthand.

  Margaret’s first story was about Mr. and Mrs. Kelley.

  “Now, I didn’t witness this first hand, but I was told this story by someone who was visiting the Kelleys, so take this with a grain of salt.

  “Mr. Kelley had told his wife that he was gonna be away for a couple of hours visiting a sick friend. Mrs. Kelley didn’t say anything, but she suspected her husband was lying and that he was actually headed to play poker with his friends, something he did regularly. Anyway, when he returned home an hour late, she confronted him. ‘Where were you?’ she asked.

  “He said, ‘What in God’s name do you mean? I told you I was visiting a sick friend. Are you deef?’

  “Mrs. Kelley could barely restrain herself when she shouted: ‘Balderdash! I wasn’t born yesterday. You were gambling, weren’t you?’

  “‘No,’ he stammered, ‘of course not. Why on God’s green earth would I lie to you?’

  “‘Why does the sun rise every morning?’ she asks, and then answers her own question. ‘It just comes natural. Just the way your sneaking off to play poker and then lying through your teeth about it does.’

  “Mr. Kelley looks confused and says: ‘How can you tell every damn time I do something wrong?’

  “She says: ‘I told you: I wasn’t bor
n yesterday.’

  “‘Am I gonna sleep in the barn again tonight?’ he asks.

  “Her answer: ‘What do you think? Does the sun rise every day? Actually, you should be thankful you’re gonna see it rise tomorrow; you came this close to missing it altogether.’”

  The Haleys and the Jensens broke into laughter, and as it died down Jill whispered to Leona: “You were right, your mother tells really funny stories.”

  “That was a good one, Maggie,” Mrs. Jensen said.

  “Wait ‘til you hear the next one,” Margaret replied.

  As everyone listened and laughed at Margaret’s remaining stories, with each one she told being funnier than the last, their bouncing bellies digested the Thanksgiving meal more efficiently than a brisk one-mile walk would have accomplished. Margaret finished telling her stories a half hour later, and began serving her apple and pumpkin pies. When those were consumed, the Haleys and Jensens spent the rest of the day playing Cribbage and shooting the breeze while relaxing on the porch swing; and enjoying other light activities, with horseshoes being the most strenuous. Their overstuffed stomachs certainly made doing anything else out of the question.

  Just before dusk Mary told Jill that it was time to go home.

  “Let me give you a ride, Mary,” Murdock said.

  “Thanks anyway, Murdy,” Mary replied, “but Jill and I need the walk in order to burn off all the calories from Maggie’s delicious meal.”

  “Suit yourself, Mary,” Murdock said.

  “Thanks again for inviting us, Maggie,” Mary said. “Maybe next year you can join us for Thanksgiving.”

  “I wouldn’t object to that,” Maggie replied. “But I’m not sure you know what you’d be getting yourself into, trying to feed the voracious Haley clan.”

  Mary laughed; then she and her daughter headed home.

  After eating leftovers for supper, the Haleys hit the sack early, knowing that they had to get up early for the trip to Acadia that Margaret had promised her youngest daughter.

  —3—

  Bright and early on Friday the Haleys caught the trolley to Bangor and walked to Front Street where they boarded the City of Bangor to Bar Harbor. They enjoyed the scenic ride down the Penobscot in the large tourist boat, and delighted in seeing the myriad wildlife that thrived near the riverbanks; in particular, a large bull moose that was wading in the water, quenching its thirst.

  “Come take a look at the moose, kids!” Murdock yelled. “It’s huge!”

  But it had run into the woods before Leona could rush to the other side of the boat to get a look.

  “Sorry you missed it, dear,” he said.

  “That’s okay, Papa. I saw one in my dream, and I got a real good view from my comet.”

  Murdock just smiled. That’s when Leona realized that convincing her father she had really been on what she now thought of as Haley’s Comet was going to be a tough sell. So she couldn’t wait to reach Acadia to see if her comet ride was real or not, even though she was sure it was. While touring Acadia in a rented buggy with her family, Leona got her answer.

  “This is the place I saw in my dream, Mama.”

  “Are you sure, Leona?” Murdock asked.

  “Oh yes, I could never forget this place. See that rock way up there on the mountain? The one that looks like it’s gonna roll off at any time. That’s the one I told you I saw in my dream. And, that deafening sound we heard the waves make when they crashed into the big rocks on the shore; I heard that in my dream too. It’s as loud as thunder. Do you remember it, Papa?”

  “I sure as heck do. In all the years I’ve been to the ocean, I’ve never heard anything quite like it. It sure gets your attention all right. I’m not so sure that, when the waves crash into that hole, it isn’t even louder than summer thunder.”

  —4—

  After returning home late Friday night, Margaret and Murdock were discussing Leona’s dream.

  “It sounds a little too fantastic to me, Maggie.”

  “I know, but she was able to recognize those places in Acadia, and she’s never been there before. How do you explain that?”

  “She could have read about them or seen pictures of them, I suppose.”

  “Maybe so, but I don’t know how. I never have. And I’ve read every one of her books and all the articles in the encyclopedia that she’s read. And what about the story about Mae and Frank bringing clothes in out of the rain? I checked with Maude and she said Leona described their words and actions to a tee. Can you explain that?”

  “No, but there has to be a logical explanation. We just don’t know what it is.”

  A moment later, Margaret heard Leona singing.

  “Listen, Murdy. Isn’t that Leona singing Beautiful Dreamer?”

  Murdock walked to the bottom of the stairs for a better listen.

  “Well, I’ll be,” he said. “She’s singing it all right, and so beautifully, more beautiful than I’ve ever heard it. But how does she know the words? Oh, wait a minute! I forgot; I had them right here in my pocket. They must’ah dropped out.”

  When he checked his shirt pocket, Murdock was surprised to find the piece of paper on which he had jotted down the words to his favorite song.

  “That’s strange?” he said. “The note’s still here?”

  “Maybe it did fall out after all,” Margaret speculated, “and Leona put it back without telling you, after she memorized the lyrics.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense, Maggie; my pocket was buttoned. I remember doing it now so I wouldn’t lose it. And Leona didn’t know I had the note, let alone where it was. Besides, there’s no way she would go rummaging through my clothes without asking. Oh well, she must’ah gotten the words from someone else.”

  “Must have,” Margaret agreed.

  Chapter 34

  True Friendship

  Leona wanted to tell Jill about her fantastic dream soon after coming back from Acadia, but Jill and her mother were in Bucksport visiting Mary’s sister, and they wouldn’t be back until Sunday night. That meant Leona would have to wait for Monday to tell her friend.

  She arrived at school on Monday morning and rushed to find Jill.

  “I had the most wonderful dream,” she said with unbridled enthusiasm, “but it wasn’t just a normal dream. It was real!”

  Before Jill could say anything, Leona began her amazing story.

  “I was riding on a comet and I could see the Earth and everything on it, and all I had to do was think about seeing something up close and it happened. I traveled to all five continents and saw all the famous rivers and mountains and canyons up close. I saw the giant redwood trees in California and the amazing Amazon jungle. Oh yes, and the Great Wall of China, the Gobi Desert, Niagara Falls, Old Faithful, and the Grand Canyon. I even saw Hans’ daughter Helga in Norway reading a book I loaned her; and I saw my relatives in Canada and watched my family at our home on Ohio Street. I only wish I had stopped to look at more of the places I’ve dreamed of. I saw the Hawaiian Islands from a distance, but for some reason I decided not to see them up close. But someday I will.”

  Jill was spellbound as she listened to the details of Leona’s dream. Unlike Leona’s sisters, she never questioned the veracity of her friend’s story, not even for a second.

  “I’m glad you believe me, Jill. No one else does. Everyone thinks it’s just my imagination.”

  “Well, you have to admit: it would be hard for even you to believe if it hadn’t happened to you. So don’t fault them,” Jill cautioned.

  “I guess you’re right. It does seem incredible, doesn’t it? Maybe it was just a dream.”

  “Maybe? And then again, maybe not?” Jill responded. “Some of the things you told me seem pretty hard to explain off as just a dream.”

  Leona smiled at her friend, again grateful that Jill unconditionally believed her story. Ind
eed, Jill knew that although Leona often daydreamed about what her life would be like, she would not make things up just to impress others. Besides, the lonely girl had many realistic dreams of her own, although none came close to rivaling Leona’s latest dream. What’s more, Jill was happy that her new friend would confide in her, not just about her recent dream, but about everything that she thought or learned. As a result, the more Jill talked to Leona, the happier she felt. She felt especially happy a few days later when Leona came for a visit, with something hidden behind her back.

  “What’s that you’re hiding, Leona?” she asked.

  “It’s my favorite book: Anne of Green Gables. I want you to read it; I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s special, not only for what’s inside, but believe it or not it’s been all the way to Norway and back. I loaned it to the Norwegian girl I told you about; you know, Helga—the daughter of the sailor who visited my home in Bangor.”

  Jill smiled and took the book. A week later she returned it to Leona.

  “You were right, Leona. I loved it. In fact, when my mother saw how much I liked it, she said she would buy me my own copy. It was so good, I felt like I was in the story with Anne, like she was my best friend. Her terrific imagination reminded me of you.”

  Jill never had a best friend before, and the friendship she found with Leona was better than she could have ever imagined. That friendship continued to flourish throughout the winter months and during the following summer, as it would through all their years together on Earth.

  —1—

  When Murdock learned of Leona’s close friendship with Jill he made a special path through the woods between their homes, for no other reason than to make visiting each other easier. He took care to make it wide enough to allow his wagon to fit on it; and every couple-hundred feet or so, he cleared a small space where a wagon traveling on that path could pull off the road to let another pass, if nature had not already provided such a space.

  That pathway included Haleys Trail, which went into the woods near the northwest corner of the Haleys’ back field and met up with the Stream Road a quarter-mile later. After walking over a half-mile northward on the Stream Road you had to turn left and head westward again to stay on the path to Jill’s place. That path went a good half-mile before it finally found Jill’s home. Murdock appropriately named it Friendship Path, and over the years that path was as worn from travel as any in those woods, and the feet of the two inseparable friends were most responsible for wearing it.