Journey With the Comet

by Dana Wayne Haley

  —4—

  Within two hours of receiving Eunice’s call, Dr. Gifford arrived at the Haleys’ in his familiar shiny gray buggy, with his black doctor’s bag sitting on the seat next to him.

  “What’s wrong, Margaret?” the doctor asked as he jumped down from the buggy. “My wife said Eunice’s call sounded urgent. All she told me was that Murdock was hurt bad and that I needed to get here quick.”

  After Margaret filled in the details, the doctor examined Murdock and, just as the stranger had predicted, found nothing seriously wrong, except for the bump on his head.

  “Mr. Haley, why don’t you hop out of bed and try to stand up?” he said.

  When Murdock did as the doctor ordered, he felt dizzy and fell back onto the bed.

  “Can you tell me your name?” the doctor asked.

  Murdock responded: “Wallace Haley.”

  “Good try, Murdy,” he joked, “but I think you’d better stay in bed just’ah skoatch longer.

  When he came out of the bedroom, Dr. Gifford spoke to Margaret. Her children, sisters, Eunice, and a handful of concerned neighbors who had dropped by, listened attentively.

  “Murdy’s still groggy,” the doctor began. “He thinks he’s your son Wally.”

  “Oh my God!” Arlene said. “If I thought I was Wally, I’d kill myself.”

  The room exploded with laughter.

  “Anyway,” the doctor said, “Murdy should be hunky-dory in a day or two. Just make sure he stays in bed until he remembers his name and until he can walk without assistance. Give him one of these pills every four hours. And call me if he isn’t markedly better by tomorrow.”

  “I’ll do that,” a relieved Margaret said. “Thank you so much for coming out so quick, Dr. Gifford. Wait right here a second while I fetch something for you, to show my appreciation.”

  “Well, we’ll be going now, sis,” Mae said. “Tell Murdy we said to get better soon.” Then she and Maude climbed aboard her carriage and headed home, and the neighbors said their goodbyes and left.

  Margaret went into the kitchen and when she returned she handed the doctor a paper bag.

  “Here you go, Dr. Gifford, take some of my molasses cookies home to your wife. They’re fresh baked.”

  “Thanks, Maggie. Martha will be mighty pleased to see these,” he laughed. “She doesn’t mean anything bad by it, but she’s always saying that she wishes I had to make a couple-of-trips-a-week to the Haleys’ so she could enjoy more of your delicious cookies, and I feel the same way. But don’t you folks go getting sick just to make the two of us happy.”

  Margaret and the kids laughed. Her children laughed hardest of all, because they knew just how good their mother’s cookies were. “Good enough to cure what ails you,” Murdock always said. In fact, the first time he said it a new idea was born in the minds of the Haley children. Pretending to be sick was always a good trick that they used successfully to get out of going to church on Sunday, and now they could use it to trick their gullible mother into baking their favorite cookies; and, to all but Wally, those were her molasses cookies. Until he grew older he always favored his mother’s sugar cookies.

  Margaret and the kids escorted Dr. Gifford to his buggy, and waved as he drove away. Before heading back to his Broadway office in Bangor, four miles from the Winter Fun Road, he needed to visit a neighbor’s son who had recently contracted polio.

  “I feel sorry for that poor boy,” Margaret said to no one in particular. “But at least he has Dr. Gifford taking good care of him.”

  —5—

  After making sure Murdock was sleeping okay, Margaret asked the girls if they wanted to help her cook a nice meal for their father’s supper. All three of the Haley girls were noticeably pleased whenever their mother requested their help when she cooked, and the reason had nothing to do with wanting to learn how to cook. It was because they knew they would be the first to test their mother’s cooking, to see if it was up to her high standard. Leona was the lone exception in that she truly enjoyed helping her mother cook, no matter what. And she so enjoyed cooking with her mother that she eventually became almost as good a cook. “Truth be known, maybe even better,” Leona once overheard her mother tell Grandma Eunice.

  Leona always loved her mother’s molasses cookies the best, and that was the first thing she wanted to learn how to cook in the oven of the Wood&Bishop stove. However, when that time came, the first batch of cookies she baked disappointed her, but only because they were slightly burned on the bottom. Fortunately the second batch didn’t burn and they seemed just as tender and delicious as her mother’s. Indeed, Leona was happy when Lillian, Arlene, and Wally gobbled down her cookies, and she was particularly delighted when they seemed not to realize that she, and not their mother, had baked them. The next thing Leona wanted to learn how to cook was her mother’s homemade bread and rolls, just because they were her father’s favorite; and with her father laid up in bed she thought that this would be the perfect time.

  “Can I bake Papa some homemade bread?” Leona asked her mother.

  “Sure, dear, he’d love to have some fresh baked bread tonight.”

  When Leona baked her first loaf of bread, she couldn’t wait to see her father’s reaction when he tasted it. Fortunately, she would get her chance, because when Margaret went to check on Murdock he was feeling much better. He even knew his name and could stand next to his bed for a short time. But to play it safe, Margaret placed a tray table beside his bed so he could sit on the edge to eat supper. Being Saturday evening, Margaret filled Murdock’s plate with beans and then brought him some of the warm bread that Leona had just finished baking. He ate a spoonful of beans first, and when he tasted the warm bread, he smiled and said something that pleased Leona.

  “Your bread is as delicious as ever, Maggie. It’s like I’ve died and gone to heaven every time I taste it.”

  “You can thank Leona tonight, dear. She baked the bread especially for you.”

  “You don’t say! Did you really bake this bread, Leona?”

  “Yes, Papa. Do you really like it?”

  “Are you kiddin’? It’s scrumptious. It tastes just like your mother’s bread.”

  Leona’s face beamed when she heard those words, because she knew just how good her mother’s bread tasted.

  “Well, I guess my little girl is starting to grow up. I suppose it won’t be long before you’re married with your own family to cook for,” he teased.

  “Now, Murdock, let’s not get carried away,” Margaret responded. “I think Leona has a few more years to go before she’ll need to be concerned with that.”

  Murdock laughed and jokingly asked: “Is that right, Leona? Are you planning to wait a whilst before you get ya’self a man?”

  The 10-year-old looked quizzically at her father and said: “Yes, Papa. I’m gonna wait a very long time. I don’t need to get a man; I’ve got Wally.”

  The room shook as both Margaret and Murdock burst into laughter. Leona wasn’t quite sure what was so hilarious, but she laughed too. It was good to hear her father’s hardy laughter once again, especially since she had almost lost him.

  “What would life be like without Papa?” Leona wondered. But she didn’t want to think about it because she knew the answer. Still, she could not prevent her mind from thinking about that dreadful prospect. “It would be very sad and very lonely,” was her only thought.

  In addition, her father’s comments made Leona wonder what it would be like to be a grownup. She couldn’t be sure about anything, but even at her tender age she somehow felt that her time to grow up would eventually come, just as it had for her parents, and she naturally wondered what it would be like. Of course, she could not know that the contentment that she now felt in her safe, peaceful home would slowly vanish and be replaced by worry and fear, and all the other stressful things that grownups have to deal with. Because
she was so young, Leona was oblivious to the possibility that her youthful fantasies would eventually be replaced by the harsh realities of adulthood. But thankfully, adulthood was still a long ways away and she had plenty of time to savor the present and allow the future to take care of itself.

  —6—

  In the morning Murdock was fully recovered. In fact, very early that Sunday morning he went to Leona’s room and woke his daughter to see if she wanted to go looking for their Christmas tree.

  “Now, Papa!? It’s only 6:30!”

  “I know, dear, but the early bird catches the worm, so we’ll leave as soon as you’re up.”

  When Leona walked into the kitchen, Murdock smiled and asked: “Are you sure you know where the tree is hid, Leona?”

  “Oh yes; I know exactly where it is. I could find it with my eyes closed.”

  “Okay then, let’s be off; but I think it’s best you keep your eyes open ‘til we find it,” he joked. “We don’t need any new adventures for a while.”

  When Murdock started out the door he was surprised to see a tree leaning against the house, the one that he and Leona had cut the day before.

  “How did that get there?” he asked.

  “The stranger must’ah brought it to us last night, Papa,” Leona surmised, “or maybe early this morning? He’s the only one besides me who knew where it was hidden in the woods.”

  “You’ve got a point there, Leona; and that was mighty nice of him. I wish I knew who he was so I could thank him.”

  “Yeah, I wish I knew too. But I was so worried about you I forgot to ask him his name until it was way too late.”

  “Well, it is close to Christmas. Maybe it was Santa Claus,” Murdock joked.

  “No, it couldn’t ah been, Papa,” Leona replied, as the two of them walked into the house to tell Margaret about the tree, “he was way too skinny and he didn’t have a beard.”

  “Oh,” Murdock responded. “Regardless, I’m glad we don’t have to go looking for the tree. Now I can relax and read the Saturday Evening Post. Speaking of Santa, he’s on the cover this week. See Leona? He’s looking at his expense book; probably wondering if he’s got enough money for your present.”

  “Oh, Papa! ” Leona giggled. “Don’t be silly.”

  That morning, after finishing the Post, Murdock nailed a wooden base onto the Christmas tree and brought it into the house. He stood the flawless tree in its traditional spot in the living room, in the southwest corner, just to the left of the large picture window. The Haleys set about decorating it that afternoon, with Margaret’s angel once again being its first and definitely most important decoration. And, as might be expected, the tall, picturesque fir tree took on added significance that year. After it was trimmed and sitting in the familiar corner of their living room, it stood as a reminder to all the Haleys that they were indeed very lucky and very fortunate because they came so close to losing the thing that mattered most: The joy that their loving husband and father always gave to them, whether it be Christmas or any other day of the year.

  Chapter 42

  Eunice’s Journey

  One Saturday, during the winter of 1921, 11-year-old Leona experienced the first traumatic shock of her young life. Grandma Eunice unexpectedly suffered a heart attack while she was visiting the Haleys for another storytelling session. When Eunice arrived at the Haleys’—at one o’clock sharp in the afternoon as usual—nothing seemed out of the ordinary. In fact, Margaret even mentioned how young her elderly mother looked. After thanking Margaret for the compliment, Eunice placed a basket on the table and said:

  “I know you have beans every Saturday night, so I baked you a loaf of bread for your supper. I thought I’d save you the trouble.”

  Although Margaret normally enjoyed baking bread for her family, today she wasn’t feeling up to it and Eunice’s fresh baked bread was a godsend.

  “Thanks, Mom. I hav’ta admit that I was hardly looking forward to mixin’ the batter today. I’ve been a little under the weather of late.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, dear. Do you want me to come back another day?” Eunice asked.

  “I should say not! Hearing some new juicy gossip is just the medicine I need. If anything will perk me up, your stories will.”

  “Good! And maybe this basketful of cookies I brought to munch on will perk you up too. By the way, how’s Murdock doing?” Eunice asked as she sat down and lifted the red-and-white striped cloth from the top of her picnic basket.

  “He’s doing just fine. He just had a checkup a couple of days ago and Dr. Gifford gave him a clean bill of health; says he’s as fit as a fiddle.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Maggie. I was worried; he was looking a mite peak-ed to me yesterday. In fact, he looked like death warmed over.”

  “Oh, he’s just a little tired from a lack of sleep, that’s all,” Margaret said after she stopped laughing. “He’s been very busy these days, cutting down trees and sawing them into firewood logs. By the way, how’s Maude? You seen her lately?”

  “Yeah, saw her two days ago,” Eunice replied. “As usual she’s as busy as all-get-out. Her one-month-old is a handful, what with having to care for year-old twins, especially with little Paul the way he is. Thank God, Pauline wasn’t hurt too when Maude fell, or she’d really have her hands full. Anyway, I don’t know how she does it with five little ones. To think, it took her seven years to give birth to her first one; now, with six in seven years, she’s popping ‘em out left and right.”

  —1—

  Leona sat patiently waiting for her mother and grandmother to finish with the news of the day and to begin telling their stories. She knew she wouldn’t have to wait much longer when she saw a certain mischievous look appear on Eunice’s face. That was the look her grandmother always had when she was about to tell one of her humorous stories. The old woman’s eyes gleamed as if something had just popped into her head, turning on the bright light that lit up her imagination.

  “Oh! Did you hear what happened to old Mr. Kelley when he was feeding his pigs?”

  “No, what?” Margaret asked.

  “You’ll never believe it!” Eunice replied. Three minutes later, everyone in the Haley household was laughing uncontrollably.

  “I can just imagine how long it took him to get the smell of that pig slop out of his clothes,” Eunice laughed.

  When the story was finally told, Leona was laughing hardest of all. She just loved to laugh, but most of all she loved to hear other people laughing, especially her sister Lillian, whose laugh now sounded even more unusual than in the past. And although Arlene also had a similar high-pitched laugh, Leona knew that it was no match for that of her older sister. Indeed, Lillian’s laugh had a character of its own. Although Lillian had nowhere near the storytelling ability that others at that table possessed, her laugh more than made up for it by causing the laughter of everyone else to be magnified, at times making the story even more enjoyable and seemingly funnier than it was.

  —2—

  As soon as the laughter subsided and Leona was sure that Grandma Eunice was finished with her story, the 11-year-old had a story of her own to tell. And she was confident that her story would be as entertaining as any other, because it was at these storytelling sessions that Leona learned how to refine her stories and to tell them with a flair of her own. Indeed, she quickly learned to mimic her mother’s voice, inflections, and mannerisms to accent her own inherent style. She even managed to make little Wally laugh once in a while, especially when her stories were about him. And this day was such an occasion. As Leona began her story, Wally’s eyes lit up.

  “Last year, when Wally was five, he stayed awake on Christmas Eve, hoping to catch Santa Claus in the act. He said he wanted to sleep in my room that night, so I let him.”

  Before she could continue, Margaret interrupted.

  “That was the first time W
ally didn’t want to sleep in the crib or in our bed. I remember Murdy asking me what was up, because we had tried our darn’dest for over a year to get Wally to sleep upstairs. But it was to no avail. And then, out of the blue, he wants to sleep in Leona’s room. Anyway, Leona, go ahead with your story.”

  “Well, when Wally thought I was asleep I watched him sneak out of my room, tiptoe down the stairs, and climb onto the couch near the Christmas tree. He lay there as quiet as a mouse for almost a half-hour, with his head resting on the pretty blue pillow that Papa gave to Mama for their wedding anniversary. Wally even had a woolen blanket pulled around his body to keep himself warm while he glued his eyes to the tree and patiently waited for Santa to arrive. Finally, after struggling for a good half-hour to stay awake, he fell asleep. And when he woke up early Christmas morning, he realized that all of the cookies that we left out for Santa were gone; and the glass of milk was empty too.

  “I went back to my bedroom after Wally fell asleep, and at four-thirty he comes running in and wakes me up, yelling: ‘Leona! Leona! Santa has come! Come quick and see!’ He was so excited that he could hardly speak. And when he finally calmed down, he said: ‘I saw Santa put presents under the tree last night.’ And then he said: ‘And I saw Santa eat the milk and cookies before he flew away to deliver his presents to more good boys like me.’ It was so funny.”

  After hearing Leona using her best imitation of Wally, everyone broke into laughter, except, of course, 6-year-old Wally who really couldn’t understand why everyone was laughing. After all, “What’s so funny about seeing Santa Claus?” he wondered.

  When Leona was done telling the story, Margaret turned to Wally and said: “Now, I know why you were so anxious to sleep in Leona’s room that night, Wally. You didn’t want me or your Papa catching you sneaking out of your crib, did you?”