Homeward

by Melody Carlson

  As Meg watched him disappear around a curve, she realized that she hadn’t seen their house yet. She knew it was on Briar Hedge property, but there were at least twenty acres beyond the bog that were still undeveloped. She remembered the land being pretty brushy and covered with timber. A few spots held brackish water and could get smelly in the summertime. She supposed Abner must have built a home back there some time ago, but she had no desire to go visiting.

  “Looks like quitting time, Clive,” said Meg reluctantly. There was still a corner that hadn’t been weeded yet, but it was past five o’clock, and she didn’t want to keep Clive too late.

  “My dad’s picking me up today,” said Clive as she heaped a pile of weeds into the wagon. “I might as well work until he gets here.”

  “Okay,” Meg agreed as she reached for another clump of tussocks. She had come to hate this cane type of grass that grew so prolifically. But she reminded herself that Cal had said it was one of the easiest weeds to get rid of. She was probably lucky that there seemed to be more of it than anything else.

  Clive returned with the empty cart and began pulling tussocks beside her. “You know, Meg, pulling these weeds makes me think of this story in the Bible.”

  “Oh?” said Meg. Somehow she hadn’t thought of Clive as a religious person. But then, why wouldn’t she be? It was when Meg had been Clive’s age that she had become a Christian, and only when she’d become an adult that she strayed. She hoped she was finding her way back home to God now.

  “There’s a story about God’s Word being like these seeds that are supposed to get planted, but some seeds end up on this really hard, dry ground, so they don’t get a chance to grow roots, and soon they blow away or get eaten by birds.”

  “I sort of remember that story,” said Meg as she pulled out a stubborn weed. She stopped to examine the cranberry plant growing below, pushing the loose soil back down around it.

  “Yeah, then in the next part of the story, some of the seeds actually start to grow roots, but then the weeds come up and choke the seedlings out.”

  “Sort of like this?”

  “No, not really, because with that part of the story, the weed roots are all mixed into the good plants’ roots, and you can’t pull out the weeds without pulling up the good plants, too. You know what I mean. It sort of ruins the crop.”

  “Uh-huh, I think so. Then doesn’t the story end with the good seeds going into the good soil? And the plants turn out to be healthy.”

  “Right. But I think we can add on to this story.”

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to add anything to the Bible,” teased Meg.

  “I’m not talking about adding anything to the Bible. But listen. See, your granddad did it all right—he prepared the soil and got rid of all the weeds, and then he planted his good seeds, or seedlings, or whatever he used. Anyway, the weeds didn’t come until later, but because his plants had good soil and good care, most of them were strong enough to withstand all these weeds. Now look,” Clive said, pointing to the cleared bog behind them. “See, they’re still there. Of course, they wouldn’t have lasted much longer without help. But do you know what I mean?”

  Meg nodded slowly, staring at the cranberry plants and trying to let Clive’s lesson sink in. “Clive?” she said finally.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you thinking about going into the ministry?”

  Clive threw back her head and laughed. “No, it’s my dad’s influence. He’s always telling stories to make points. I guess it rubs off after a while.”

  “Well, it’s a nice thing to have rub off—” Meg broke off when she heard a vehicle coming. She listened quietly until she was sure it was coming from the north.

  “That sounds like my dad’s Blazer,” said Clive. She looked to the tiny unweeded patch that still remained. “Too bad I have to go. We almost got this one all done today.”

  “Don’t worry. Before sunset, that corner will be clean,” Meg said with resolve.

  “Come take a break and meet my dad,” called Clive as she picked up her jacket and tennis shoes. Meg followed Clive up to the white Blazer parked in the middle of the road. A tall blonde man climbed out, and Meg squinted toward the sun as she looked up at him. He smiled and waved, then started down toward them. Something about him reminded her of someone she had briefly known once. But of course, he couldn’t be the same—

  “Meggie Lancaster,” he said as he held out his hand, “you probably don’t remember me, but—”

  “Matt? Matt from Camp Waneema?”

  “Wow, you do have a good memory.”

  “Not that good. I never remembered your last name. Or maybe I just never knew it. So you’re Cal Logan’s son, and Clive’s dad. That must make you Matt Logan.”

  “Actually, I go by Matthew now. It sounds a little more impressive, I suppose, and in my business, that’s important.”

  “What’s Camp Waneema?” asked Clive.

  Matthew chuckled. “It was an old run-down camp that the church used to send kids to every summer, until about twelve years ago when the property was purchased for a subdivision. I’d guess it was over twenty years ago that I was a counselor and Meggie here was a reluctant camper.” He grinned with a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes.

  Meg turned to Clive. “I was sixteen, and Grandpa decided I should go to church camp. I was furious! I thought summer camp was for babies. Of course, I never let on to Grandpa. But when I got to camp, well, have you ever heard the expression ‘Not a happy camper’?”

  Clive nodded.

  “That’s where the saying originated,” said Matthew with a wink, and they all laughed. “What Meggie didn’t know was that her granddad had asked me to keep an eye on her, without her knowing it, of course.”

  “You’re kidding!” said Meg.

  “Nope, it’s the truth.”

  Meg shook her head. “I can’t believe it.”

  “Hey, Dad, come see how great it looks,” said Clive, and she pulled him by the hand toward the bog. Meg followed at a short distance. The idea that Matt, from Camp Waneema, was Cal Logan’s son and Grandpa’s spy and that they should meet again after all these years... It was too much. That helped to explain why Clive was such a sweet girl, though. She obviously took after her dad. Of course, that wasn’t very fair to her mom. Her mom was probably a wonderful person too.

  “This bog looks pretty good,” said Matthew, but Meg could hear the question in his voice as she joined them in front of the weeded bog.

  “But you’re thinking that the rest is incredibly bad,” Meg said.

  “Well, they’ve certainly gone downhill.” Matthew surveyed the other bogs with a creased forehead. “Too bad.”

  “Yes, but if we keep this up, we might be able to get several of the bogs into shape before they start to blossom.”

  He nodded skeptically. “That’s quite a job.”

  “I know.” Meg sighed. “But we had a great work crew today. Another few days like this, and you just never know...”

  “Well, I have to hand it to you—you’ve sure got the right attitude. Are you looking for any more workers?” asked Matthew.

  “Sure. Do you know anyone? I can’t pay much.”

  Matthew grinned, and his face looked just like Clive’s. “I wouldn’t expect pay.”

  “You mean you?” Meg quickly inventoried his expensive suit, neatly striped shirt, and designer tie, and frowned. Clive had already mentioned that her dad was an attorney. Somehow Meg couldn’t imagine this man who looked like he’d just stepped out of GQ magazine wanting to get his hands dirty.

  “Sure, I mean me. Don’t judge a book by its cover, Meggie. Remember, my pop ran a cranberry bog for thirty years. I’m pretty sure there’s still cranberry juice pumping in these veins.”

  Meg looked at him in surprise. She’d never heard anyone say that besides her grandparents, but then, Grandpa had spent a lot of time with Cal, and probably Matthew as well. She grinned.

  “You’re more than w
elcome to come and lend a hand anytime you like, Matthew Logan. I have no doubt that you know your way around a cranberry bog.”

  “That’s right, and sometimes I really miss it.”

  “May I ask why you didn’t consider taking over for your dad when his health became a problem?” Meg instantly regretted her intrusion, but Matthew didn’t seem to be offended.

  “I thought about it. At the time, I wished I had the money to buy him out, but my practice was still barely holding its own, and Pop had a cash offer that would allow him to buy the Feed and Seed. It seemed selfish on my part to try and hang on to the bog under those circumstances. It’s been great for Pop, owning the Feed and Seed. Now he gets to share all his knowledge about agriculture without the backbreaking work.”

  “That makes a lot of sense. I’m sorry, it was none of my business to ask. It’s just that Cal feels like an old friend to me, and I just wondered.”

  “No problem.” Matthew looked out over the ocean. “Pop thought the world of your granddad, and so did I. And just for the record, Pop’s thrilled with what you’re doing out here. I expect he’ll be out every few days to check on your progress, as well as to give you some advice.”

  “Well, I would appreciate that a lot.”

  “Hey, I’m starving, Dad,” said Clive, tugging at his arm.

  “Okay. I guess we’d better get going. Nice to meet you again, Meggie.”

  “Dad,” said Clive in an exasperated tone. “Only her family calls her that. Her friends call her Meg.” She turned to Meg. “Right?”

  “It’s okay; you guys are like family. He can call me Meggie if he wants to.” Matthew shot her a warm smile. After they drove away, Meg returned to work, thinking fondly of Camp Waneema.

  SIXTEEN

  “Hello, Meggie,” Rosa said from the kitchen as Meg deposited her boots and jacket on the back porch.

  “Hi, Rosa. I think we should post a warning out here. These porch boards feel so rotten, I’m sure a person could go right through if they stomped their feet too hard.”

  “I know. I am always very careful when I walk out there, but one of these days I will probably fall right through. And it’s a sure thing that Mrs. Lancaster will never hear me screaming. I’ll probably be stuck there until the meter man comes and finds me.”

  Meg laughed. “Hopefully not. Just the same, I think I’ll ask Tom about fixing it.”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice.”

  “Something smells pretty good in here, Rosa.”

  “It’s chicken. Mrs. Lancaster wanted to wait up and have her supper with you tonight, if you didn’t come in too late.”

  “Am I too late?”

  “No, but you may want to hurry and get cleaned up. Mrs. Lancaster likes to be all done with dinner and ready for bed by seven.”

  Meg grinned. She knew that seven o’clock was when Wheel of Fortune came on. “Sure, I’ll be back down in about ten minutes. Will that be okay?”

  “Perfect.” Rosa glanced at the little clock on the stove. “I’ll set you up a TV tray in your grandmother’s room.”

  Meg showered and got dressed in just under ten minutes, then raced downstairs.

  “Whoa,” said Rosa as she carried a tray of food from the kitchen. “I didn’t really believe you could be ready so fast.”

  “Well, I’m not usually this quick. Can I help you with anything?”

  “Sure. You take this, and I’ll go get the teapot.”

  “Hello, Grandmother,” said Meg as she set down the tray. “Rosa said I could join you for dinner.”

  “Good, good. You’re here at last. I was starting to get tired. This has been a long day, Meggie. But how I enjoyed seeing Erin and the girls. They haven’t been out here for ages.”

  “They had a great time. And we got one whole bog weeded. It was amazing. We ended up with a work crew of six people, which really speeded things up.”

  Rosa brought in the rest of the meal. As they ate, Meg told Grandmother about funny little incidents that had happened during the day and how the girls wanted to come back tomorrow and maybe use the old cabin for a playhouse. It was a pleasant meal, and Grandmother was in good spirits. Meg thought she seemed to be improving.

  “Well, it sounds like things are going well, Meggie. I was hoping that you weren’t having any problems.” The way her voice trailed up ever so slightly at the end made Meg think that Grandmother suspected Abner might cause trouble. Meg wondered if Abner had been by to see her. But then, Meg hadn’t seen him pass by on the road. Of course, he could circle around on the main road to get to Grandmother’s house.

  “No, we didn’t have any problems today. In fact, Jason even came and joined us. He helped out all afternoon.” Meg took a sip of tea.

  Grandmother smiled. “Oh, that Jason. He’s such a fine boy. I’m so glad to hear everything is working out.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that everything is working out, Grandmother. I think we might have a few things that need to be ironed out yet. Yesterday, Abner stopped by.”

  Grandmother set down her cup and looked at Meg.

  “He wasn’t very happy to see me working on the bog, and he made it pretty clear.” Meg studied Grandmother’s face closely. She seemed to be considering Meg’s words carefully.

  “Abner told me that I had no business being up there,” continued Meg. She would spare Grandmother the details about what Abner thought of her mental state, not to mention his opinion of Meg. “I told him it was your property and that you were the one who told me to work on it.”

  Grandmother’s thin brows shot up and her pale blue eyes opened wide. “Oh, my. What did he say to that?”

  “I don’t think you’d like to hear what he said.”

  Grandmother chuckled. “No, I don’t suppose I would. But tell me, Meggie, did you stand up to him?”

  “Of course I did.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “You haven’t changed your mind or anything? You still want me up there, right?”

  “Of course. Why would I change my mind?”

  “I don’t know. I just wanted to make sure.”

  Grandmother sighed and leaned back. “I’m awful tired, Meggie. Do you want to tell Rosa that I’m ready for bed?”

  Meg looked at her watch. It was quarter past seven, so Rosa would be in the middle of her show. “How about if I help you get started, Grandmother?”

  “You?”

  “Sure. Don’t you think I’m able?”

  Grandmother chuckled again. “Well, I don’t doubt you’re able. I’m just surprised that you’re willing.”

  By the time Meg had brought Grandmother a warm soapy washcloth and gotten her dentures soaking, Rosa scurried in.

  “Bless you, Meggie,” said Rosa. “Now you run along. I’ll take care of Mrs. Lancaster.”

  “Watch out, Rotha,” lisped Grandmother with a puckered toothless mouth. Meg tried not to smile. She had never seen the old woman without her dentures. “Meggie will get your job.”

  Rosa laughed. “It’s all hers anytime she wants it.”

  “Good night, Grandmother,” said Meg.

  “Good night, dear. Thleep well.”

  Meg choked back giggles as she closed the door. It was fun seeing this side of Grandmother. Such a contrast to the stern-faced grandmother of Meg’s childhood. What had become of the pompous, self-important woman who had seldom smiled and never approved of Meggie?

  After dinner, Meg went through the box of mementos Grandpa had left her. There were some old photographs and books, but the thing that brought back the best memories for her was a small, tattered notebook filled with all of Grandpa’s cranberry recipes. Meg could almost smell the fragrance of cranberry bread and cranberry cake and cranberry muffins as she leafed through the pages. She piled everything back into the box and took it back to her room, vowing that one day soon she would try out some of those recipes.

  It wasn’t until Meg was in bed that she realized she had forgotten to call Sunny and apologize for miss
ing the birthday dinner. She felt as if she were accumulating guilt about Sunny every time she turned around. She glanced at the little tin alarm clock by her bed, the same one that had been in this room when she was a child. In fact, almost nothing in the room had changed.

  It was only ten o’clock. Early for Sunny. Meg could easily go out in the hallway and use the wall phone there to call Sunny. But she was so tired, and the bed with its old feather mattress seemed to pull at her. She knew it would take only moments to lull her to sleep. Meg flicked off the light and rolled over. In the morning she would call and see if she could arrange to get together with Sunny. In the morning.

  SEVENTEEN

  In the morning, Meg woke to the sound of the phone jangling. She jumped out of bed and dashed to the hallway to answer it.

  “Hello?” she said groggily, wondering who in the world would be calling so early. It was barely even light outside.

  “Meg? This is Sigfried.”

  “Sigfried? What is it?”

  “Meg, Sunny is dead.”

  Meg didn’t answer. Her head began to buzz, and her stomach rose and fell. No, it could not be true. She was having a bad dream. This was not happening.

  “Meg? Are you there?” His voice was urgent. “Did you hear me, Meg?”

  “I don’t know.” She leaned against the wall and felt her knees grow weak beneath her. “Did you say—” She couldn’t repeat the words. She must have heard him wrong.

  “Meg, Sunny died early this morning. I found her. I’ve called Erin already—”

  “No.” She opened her mouth to scream, but the words came out in a hoarse whisper. “No. No, it can’t be! It just can’t be.” She slid down the wall into a squatting position, wrapping her arms around her knees. “It can’t be,” she whispered. “It’s not fair. Not fair.” Sunny couldn’t die, not yet. The phone slipped from her hands, and she crumpled over and began to sob uncontrollably.

  She didn’t know how long she sat on the hallway floor. The next thing she knew, Rosa was there, drawing her gently to her feet and untangling the phone cord from her arms and placing the receiver back on the hook. Meg watched her as if from a great distance and felt numb. Then Rosa wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her back into the bedroom. She heard Rosa muttering softly in Spanish as she tucked Meg under the covers. Her mother had never tucked her in like that before. And now her mother was dead. Meg curled into a tight ball and cried silently until she went to sleep. She didn’t care if she ever woke up. Ever.