Kind-Hearted Woman

by Spaeth, Janet

  So this inelegant Bible, with its cardboard cover and thick rough pages, had been exactly what he’d needed.

  He read it, he said, but not all of it, and he tended to turn to familiar passages, the comfort verses, he’d called them. Psalm 23. The Beatitudes. The Lord’s Prayer. Those lines he knew.

  He’d stopped speaking of it then. She suspected other memories were too nebulous to be shared, so she hadn’t pried. In time he would remember—or he wouldn’t. She couldn’t change that, and she accepted it.

  The benediction was pronounced, and the four of them filed out of the church.

  George lingered for some small talk with Ruth by the front steps before joining the others.

  “I’m sorry to say this in such a holy spot,” Bud declared, “but that’s not a nice place to be in August. It was so hot in there that the bird on Ruth’s hat roasted, and it smelled so good that I was tempted to eat it.”

  “Oh, stop it,” George growled. “That bird was made of wool, and you know it.”

  “I was simply making a point,” Bud said. “You’ve got to admit that—”

  “Boys, boys,” Lolly chided, interrupting the inevitable argument. “Let’s just get home. And Bud, watch what you say. That wasn’t nice at all.”

  “How can I watch what I say? Words are invisible,” he said as he climbed into the back of the truck. “I was just being honest. And by the way, I’m not going to crunch in the front with you. It’s just too hot. Come on, Colin, you, too. It’s more comfortable back here.”

  “When are you and Ruth going to go on a date or something?” Lolly asked her brother as he drove toward the farm.

  George growled.

  “Well, let me give you some female advice here. It’s hard to get any kind of relationship going if all that happens is he looks at you. There’s got to be more than that. Speak up.”

  “You’re the big romance expert?” he asked. “Since when?”

  “No, I’m not saying that. It’s just that Ruth is nice, and I’d sure like to see you two together. But it doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere.”

  His eyes flickered over to her and he sighed. “I’ll tell you what. I can’t. I will not ask Ruth—or anyone—to share my life until I can take care of her the way a husband should. What would I do? Move her in with us? Or maybe we can boot Colin out of the old home place and she and I could set up house in there?”

  “You could build a new house, George,” she said. “There’s nothing stopping you.”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Really,” she persisted, “you could. Bud would help you. We can get the lumber here or maybe in Mankato, and with some nice new furniture, you’d be all set up.”

  “It isn’t a good time.”

  “You’re just shy.” She loved to tease him about his slow courtship of Ruth.

  “Things are too uncertain,” he said, his mouth tightening, which always meant he was literally holding back his words. “The drought, the depression.”

  “But we’re okay. We’ve got—”

  “We’ve got enough for us,” he interrupted. He glanced in the mirror at Colin and Bud behind them, horsing around, and lowered his voice. “You know that having Colin here has been a blessing, for sure, but it’s also stretched us to the limit. We don’t have reserves for a wedding, a new house, for furniture, and probably for children. I’m not bringing someone as classy as Ruth is into our chaotic bit of paradise.”

  She touched his arm. She hadn’t thought about that at all. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  He lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “No problem. It’s a mess for all of us.”

  The rest of the ride was silent except for Bud and Colin singing silly songs from the back of the truck.

  ❧

  The next day, the heat continued. She fanned herself as she stood in the kitchen by the open window and watched Colin with the chickens. Not a single breeze lifted the light curtain, and she felt a trail of sweat roll down her back.

  She’d become used to seeing him in the farmyard, his dark brown hair under a worn straw hat as he strewed seed for the chickens, making chhhkk, chhhkk, chhhkk sounds at them while they scratched and picked their way through the bounty at his feet.

  The chickens liked him, or so it seemed. Lolly shook her head at the thought. A chicken was a chicken, and it didn’t do well for her to become attached to any animal on the farm that might end up on the table. Besides, chickens were such odd creatures, with their featherless feet and jerky head movements.

  It had to rain, and soon. Even the light teasing showers that only misted the air would be welcome.

  She didn’t like weather like this, when the world seemed poised on the edge, as if waiting for whatever was coming.

  It wasn’t quite tornado weather. The sky was still too blue, not the sick green that indicated trouble was on the way, and the blanket of stillness that preceded a twister was absent. The chickens clucked and squawked territorially, Bruno barked in the distance at something—or nothing, knowing Bruno—and overhead a bird trilled out a melody.

  But there were clouds. They were high and thin but they were there, and maybe, just maybe, they held moisture.

  The sound of an automobile approaching intruded on the day. “Oh no, please don’t let it be. . .” she said aloud as she wiped her hands on the dish towel. She hung it up again, making sure the smiling teapot faced outward as if encouraging her.

  Hildegard Hopper’s DeSoto pulled around the curve at the end of the yard and slid over the corner of Lolly’s garden, crushing the tender trumpets of the petunias, the same kind of flower her mother had planted years ago and which Lolly tended lovingly. Hildegard continued on, apparently unaware of the damage she’d caused. Beside her in the front seat was perched her ever-present sidekick, Amelia Kramer.

  “Oh, Lord, You’d better give me some patience and quick!” Lolly said aloud. “Don’t let me say anything I’m going to regret later on.”

  She ran a hurried hand over her hair. As usual, she hadn’t done much more than pull it back and wind it into a haphazard bun. It shouldn’t matter that her hair wasn’t as styled as theirs, she knew that, but there was just something about the way they acted that made her feel insecure.

  She went to the door and pulled it open, a falsely hearty smile on her face, but they weren’t there. They had, she realized, gone around the side of the house and were standing on each side of Colin.

  The chickens had scattered to the far sides of the yard, but they were edging back closer. The two women were, after all, standing in the midst of their meal.

  Lolly saw what was going to happen only seconds before it did. There was no time to stop it.

  One chicken stepped over to Hildegard’s right foot, stared at it for a moment, and then bobbed its head down and pecked at the glittery bow on the vamp. A plump hen gazed at her reflection in Amelia’s shiny patent-leather sandals, and suddenly poked at it with her sharp beak.

  The women’s screams pierced the morning, and Lolly bit back a smile as she saw Colin trying to calm the women and the chickens. She rushed out and scooped up the two chickens and held them close to her as she tried to soothe them.

  “Let me put them in the coop,” she said over the loud protests of the chickens that wriggled fiercely in her arms, scratching her wrists and hands with their sharp claws. “I’ll just be a moment. Colin, do you mind taking our guests inside and getting them settled while I see to things out here?”

  He swept off the worn straw hat and bowed “I’d be delighted to. Ladies?” As he guided them into the house, she could hear him saying all the right things, tending to their own ruffled feathers.

  She got the chickens settled and even gave them a little extra corn for their distress.

  She could easily have stayed out there, relaxing under the cottonwood and listening to th
e leaves. When she’d been little, she had thought the cottonwoods were whispering prayers when their leaves rustled in the faint breeze—and for just a moment she lingered in the shade.

  But the thought of Colin at the mercy of Hildegard Hopper and Amelia Kramer brought her up sharply and she hurried back inside.

  The two women were seated on either side of Colin, and the questions, in soft little voices with very pointed words, were flying at him like arrows.

  “Where did you come from?”

  “Do you have a family?”

  “How long were you on the road?”

  “What is your livelihood?”

  “Will you stay here through winter?”

  “Are you going back on the road?”

  Motionless, he wasn’t responding, which made their questioning even sharper.

  “What are your plans?”

  “Are you a Lutheran or a Baptist?”

  “What was in your pack?”

  “Do you miss your vagabond ways?”

  She took immediate pity on him. “Hildegard, Amelia, can I get you something to drink? Tea perhaps? I’d offer you coffee, but we don’t drink that in the summer. My brothers find it too heavy when it’s this warm. I have some no-bake bars I made that I think you’ll enjoy. I made them from a recipe I cut out a long time ago from the Mankato newspaper.”

  She knew she was chattering but she couldn’t bear it anymore, seeing him beset by the barrage of questions.

  They were, truth to tell, good questions, questions that needed answers, but he didn’t need to share all that with the women. They were simply being nosy and meddlesome, always in search of a good juicy rumor to share at the store or after church.

  Of course, what the women didn’t know, and what Lolly and her brothers had managed thus far to avoid sharing with the townspeople, was that Colin didn’t really know the answers himself, not entirely anyway. Every day his memory got stronger, and every day a bit more of it came back.

  He didn’t need to have these women assaulting him with a volley of questions.

  Fortunately they were easy to deflect, and for the moment their mission was set aside, although she was sure that they would not let it go unsatisfied. What they didn’t get today, they would return for another day. Hildegard and Amelia were relentless in their quest for gossip.

  But temporarily at least, the onslaught was stilled, and the four of them sat in the stifling living room and made polite conversation about the cookery. None too soon the two women called an end to their visit, and with promises of recipes for blond brownies and oatmeal raisin bar cookies to be exchanged for copies of Lolly’s newspaper clipping.

  When Hildegard and Amelia were safely on the road again, Lolly collapsed in the chair by the couch. “I’m sorry you had to endure that,” she said. “Those two are unbearable at times.”

  “I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he said. “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you and your family.”

  Bruno’s barking and a flurry of chicken squawks ended the somber discussion. The dog had figured out how to open the door to the coop and had apparently done it again. From the noise, Lolly was sure he’d gone inside to annoy the hens.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he said, rising quickly. “He’s all bark and no bite, but I’m afraid those chickens aren’t quite as polite. I’d better save that mongrel before he meets the same fate as Hildegard’s shoes.”

  She stayed in the chair and enjoyed the last minutes of solitude before mayhem broke loose. If the dog was back, so were her brothers, and they’d be hungry.

  After they ate, maybe they’d all leave together. They’d started taking Colin with them out to the field and the barn, and she’d begun writing in her notebook again. After their meal, maybe she’d have the chance to put a few more words in it.

  “Lolly!”

  The door slammed open and then shut again as George and Bud burst into the room. Colin, she could see through the window, was still outside, kneeling in front of Bruno as the chickens watched curiously.

  The dog had something in his mouth, as usual, and Colin was coaxing it out of his jaws.

  Lolly rolled her eyes as she recognized the bow from Hildegard’s shoe. First pecked by chickens and then chewed on by the dog, the ornament was beyond saving. Colin looked up, caught her watching from the window, and held up the trophy with a grin.

  “Lolly, let’s eat!” George, she could see, had already washed his hands and face at the pump—a layer of grime circled his hairline and his wrists where he hadn’t washed. Well, she told herself, at least he had washed some of the dirt off.

  “What are we having? Not that meat loaf again! What did you put in it? Gopher?” Bud grinned goofily as he slid into a chair at the kitchen table.

  Bruno darted in front of Colin as he entered the house. Soon the small kitchen was filled with four people and a dog, and chaos ruled again.

  ❧

  The never-ending job of fence repair called the three men to the edge of the farmstead.

  Colin rode along with the brothers. He’d elected to sit in the back of the pickup truck with the dog rather than in the cab. It was hotter than an oven, but at least he got some air in his face, and he rather enjoyed bumping along the pitted road with Bruno for company.

  Plus, riding in the back gave a fellow time to think about things that needed to be thought about. Like who he was.

  Sure he knew his name was Colin Hammett. He’d led a life of comfort before this trip, but he only dimly remembered the details. His mind would find some piece of his former life, as he was calling it for lack of a better distinction, and sometimes the bit would take shape and become focused and grow, and he’d get another section of his past back.

  Other times it was like trying to remember a dream. Details were slippery and would slither out of his reach when he’d try to grasp them.

  He had so many questions. Why did he leave his life behind? He knew he had been well-off. The leather pack and the cashmere blankets he’d brought were proof of that. But why was he on the road? When he’d try to remember, his mind would almost let him get there, but it would stop just short of an answer.

  Lolly and her brothers were terrific. They didn’t push him but let him try to regain the lost ground on his own.

  What an act of faith and trust that was! Could he have done the same, welcomed a stranger into his home as completely as they had?

  The truck rumbled to a stop, and George and Bud got out.

  “Fence work,” George said. “Want to grab that toolbox, please?”

  As far as Colin had been able to determine, fence posts worked themselves out of the ground at least once a week. They spent time every day riding the fence line and correcting the leaning posts, tightening wire where the fence was strung or replacing planks where the fence was lath.

  “I don’t know what we’re keeping in,” Bud grumbled as he wrestled with a post that refused to stay upright. “It’s not like we have animals anymore, unless you count the chickens, and I don’t know why you would.”

  “Eggs,” George said around a mouthful of nails. “That’s why Lolly keeps those nasty creatures around.”

  “Oh, they’re not so bad,” Colin said, trying to help Bud with the recalcitrant fence post. He told them the story of the chickens’ reaction to the shoes worn by Hildegard and Amelia the day before. “I wouldn’t be surprised if people all the way over in Minneapolis could have heard them, they were hollering so loud.”

  “I’ve just changed my opinion of chickens, then.” Bud grinned at Colin.

  “Bud,” George chided, “watch what you say. Hildegard and Amelia have their good points. . .I’m sure.”

  They all laughed and returned to the business of fixing the fence.

  His body was enjoying the labor. As the muscles flexed and tendons stretched, he felt
better, and his recovery was speeding along. All that was left were a few missing pieces in his memory.

  Sweat dripped off his chin. He leaned on the post while he swabbed it away with his handkerchief and took advantage of the respite to look around him.

  This was beautiful country here. Admittedly the drought had taken its toll, but he could easily fill in the blanks and imagine the area with normal rain—and snow. The field was ringed with deep grasses that were looking somewhat parched at the moment, but he knew the trees, with deeper roots, had to be drawing water from the river to stay alive.

  There was a metaphor somewhere in there but he was too engaged in the scene to work it through. Maybe he’d figure it out later.

  Yes, this place should be beautiful, come fall. He didn’t know much about trees, but he did recognize the characteristic shape of the maple leaf, and he knew how extraordinary they were in autumn. Mingled in with the—

  “Hey, dreamer,” Bud said, giving him a light bop on the shoulder, “want to help me out? Here, dream on this post now.”

  Bud’s grin told him that he was teasing, and as he headed to the next tilted fence post, the dog followed, settling at last in Colin’s shadow.

  George came over to fix the wire twisted around the post. “Look at you. Earlier this summer you wouldn’t have held up a post. It would have held you up.”

  “Once it knocked me out,” Colin joked. “It’s amazing what food and water and a place to sleep can do for a body.” He paused, wondering if he should read more into what George said. Was he implying that the time had come to move on?

  It probably had, in all honesty. And the thought of leaving here brought immediate pain.

  He’d come to love this family who’d taken him in so easily and so completely. Even the dog that lay drooling on the toe of his boot had worked his way into his heart.

  Lolly, though—how that woman had put her imprint on his soul. A stray thought intruded—maybe you’re falling in love with her—but he dismissed it. He’d known her less than three months, hardly long enough for that.