No problem, really,” smiled the young man as he sipped his own glass of wine. “To tell you the truth, it’s the most excitement I’ve had since I arrived in Europe last week. I’m only sorry you had to be the victim.”
Louis had already reached the table and was shaken at the thought of someone striking his Françoise. Once he was reassured that she was not hurt, he motioned to a waiter to be certain that her table was well taken care of throughout lunch.
“Well, shall we order, mademoiselle,” said the young man as he smiled again at Françoise. “What do you suggest? Oh, by the way, this is Mr. and Mrs. Quinlan from New York, and I’m Richard from Vermont. Richard Merrill.”
CHAPTER 4
Richard Arthur Merrill was born in April 1926 in Rumney, New Hampshire, the son of Charles and Alice Merrill. The Merrills were lifelong residents of New Hampshire and lived in a farmhouse on a plateau at the foot of some mountainous terrain near Tenney Mountain. Charlie Merrill’s hens produced enough eggs to sell as far away as Plymouth, nearly a ten-mile ride in his old beat-up Ford pickup truck.
Every day he would make his rounds in Plymouth, stopping at the two restaurants, the local hospital, and the college on the hill to deliver almost all the eggs he had. What few he didn’t sell, he would bring back home to Alice so she could make pies and cakes to sell at the same establishments on the next day’s trip. When Charlie delivered his eggs, he would ask his customers what kind of cakes or pies they would need and when. Alice could bake practically anything they asked for and, depending on the season, the requests for her baked goods were almost always met on time, even if Alice had to spend late hours finishing someone’s orders for the next day. It was no wonder that the Merrill house always had a wonderful aroma to it, unlike the typical dairy farms where the smell of manure permeated the premises.
Farms in that central part of the state were some distance apart and Dick Merrill’s childhood was filled with a lot of solitude. The few friends he made were from school where a dozen or so children from the village were to be educated. Classes were mixed together and there was only one teacher, Miss Merriweather. She was a local woman in her fifties who had never married and lived alone in the house she had been born in, a few minutes away from the schoolhouse.
In the winter, when snowstorms came, as they often did, Dick Merrill would not go to school because the roads to the schoolhouse became impassable. On those days, he would help his father clear a path from the farm to the main road leading to Plymouth so that the delivery truck could be used for deliveries. Another good year, Charlie Merrill thought, would be all he needed to afford buying a plow for his truck so that he and Dick wouldn’t be wasting time shoveling when they could be selling. And besides, Charlie had it all figured out, he could use the truck to plow out businesses when deliveries were done and earn enough to expand the business.
The Merrills had no other children even though they had tried for years. Dick’s parents were both forty-five years old when he was born and the Merrills had all but given up on having children when word had come from Doc Hinkson that Alice was pregnant.
The Merrills’ farm was big in acreage but small in what was on the land itself. There were three hen houses holding about five hundred laying hens that each produced one to two eggs per day. The farmhouse was about two hundred feet in front of the coops and had only five rooms, the kitchen being the biggest. Alice had three stoves that she used constantly to bake her goods and a small kitchen table and counter area for the family to use when they sat at mealtime. The kitchen led to an open double parlor with one side being used by Charlie for his office and records and the far end with a wood stove, rug on the floor, and a parlor set complete with an old Emerson stand-up radio. Upstairs, there were two bedrooms and a new bathroom with running water from a pump that Charlie had recently installed.
Sundays were always special for the Merrills. After the early chores in the hen houses and a special breakfast prepared by Alice for her two boys, the family would dress up in their best clothing and head to church. There were not too many Catholic churches in New Hampshire and the Merrills had to drive clear to the southern side of Plymouth to reach St. Barnaby’s for eleven o’clock Mass. Charlie’s father had come over from Ireland at the turn of the century and had been determined to continue his family in the Catholic faith.
Alice, a local girl before marrying Charlie, converted to Catholicism only because the church insisted on it to allow the marriage to take place. She did not care that much what religion it was, so long as there was some spiritual bond that could keep the family together when they needed it. Charlie, like his father before him, was going to raise Dick to follow the faith of his ancestors; it just had to be that way. It was no surprise then when Charlie asked Alice to stop by the general store one Sunday to pick up some cloth. The cloth was to make altar boy cassocks for Dick since he had been selected by Father Gavin to become a junior altar boy at St. Barnaby’s.
As the years went by, Dick became more and more involved with the church. He had seen Father Gavin working on the church grounds often as he drove past the church on special deliveries that went that way. He had grown fond of Father Gavin and saw him as just a regular person who had chosen the priesthood as his occupation. He did everything else other people did, except maybe get married and raise a family.
Business was prospering and Charlie had added a second delivery truck with a full-time driver. Although the demand for eggs was thriving and that segment of the business was going as well as ever, it was the pie and cake business that was growing at an unbelievable rate. By the time Dick had reached the age of fifteen, in the early 1940s, Charlie Merrill’s business had grown to the point where Alice could not bake enough pies or cakes fast enough to keep up with the demand. Every resort restaurant in the White Mountain area of New Hampshire carried her pastries, which now carried the name Merrill’s Fresh Baked on each individually labeled package. Local stores carried the Merrill brand too and, as home-baking trends began to disappear with more women working in the Plymouth parachute factory, housewives now referred to Merrill’s pies and cakes as “almost like my own.”
Dick had done well in school and Miss Merriweather had already spoken to Dick’s parents about sending him to college following graduation.
Charlie had mixed feelings about the news. He had always expected Dick to join him in the family business on a full-time basis. The business was successful enough to support Charlie and Dick, with Charlie thinking about slowing down a bit as he approached his retirement years. Alice, on the other hand, wanted her son to have a better life without having to work the strenuous hours that were required in the business. She had visualized Dick as a doctor, a lawyer, even a priest, someone who would help people in trouble. Dick’s gentle and friendly manner was something that automatically emanated as he dealt with customers, school friends, or other active parishioners from St. Barnaby’s.
“You’ll be finishing your schooling soon, Son,” Charlie began one evening at supper, “Have you given any thought to what you’d like to do with your life?” Charlie leaned forward, his eyebrows raised as he awaited Dick’s reply. He was hopeful of a decision to join him in running the farm. Alice knew anything else was going to be a disappointment. Dick’s mother was more reserved and subdued as she quietly passed the roast to Charlie and reached for the mashed potatoes.
“Can we afford college, Dad?” Dick questioned. “I was thinking of going to Plymouth Teachers in the fall if I get accepted there. Father Gavin and Miss Merriweather both told me that I should consider it, if we can afford it. Father Gavin said that when he went to college, he didn’t know what he wanted either but it gave him time to think while he was getting more education. That sounds logical to me,” Dick said. “Father Gavin said that the experience from school could be put to good use whatever I decide to do. What do you think?” Dick asked.
“I think Father Gavin’s been filling your head with big ideas on colleges, and that’s not what I
had expected from him. I figured he’d want to steer you to be a priest or something like that,” Charlie quickly snapped back at his son. “Why does he care so much about what happens to you?”
“I like Father Gavin, Dad; he’s helped me to eliminate the things I don’t want to do in my life, and now I’m just trying to narrow it down some more. I’m not going in the Army, Dad,” Dick quickly shot back. “There’s no way I’m going to get involved with killing people. I love my country, but I won’t kill anyone. God didn’t bring me into this world to kill people. I want to do some good for people and I think college education will give me time to decide what I want to do. And besides, I want to meet more people my own age, maybe even go with girls, I don’t know.”
Charlie just sat there, expressionless and kept on eating his food as if Dick had said nothing. It usually worked, the silent treatment, at least it always had before. Charlie figured that when you don’t say anything, it’s as good as or better than arguing with someone. He merely would express his opinion and, if Dick disagreed or argued against Charlie’s views, Charlie would use the silent treatment.
“The silent treatment won’t work this time, Dad, if we can’t afford it, then I’ll get myself another job this summer and start saving until I have enough to go. I’ve got to find out if it’s for me.”
“You ain’t gonna make no more money just because you went to college, you know. Why don’t you wait awhile before going off to school; give me a couple of years in the business. If it doesn’t work out then, I’ll agree to send you to school wherever you want to go.”
Dick’s mother sat through the meal, never once uttering a sound. She had made several trips to the stove and the kitchen sink with dishes and had heard the entire conversation. Charlie was the man of the house, she had been told by her mother years before, and she never interfered with him when the conversation was with Dick. She would wait until Charlie went to bed a short while later and would then wait for Dick to return to the kitchen. He always did when he and Charlie disagreed on something. He would try to explain his side to his mother in the hope of gaining her support for a comeback to Charlie the following day. Sometimes Alice would soften the way with Charlie by persuading him to reconsider. Most of the time it worked but, on certain occasions, Alice could be as firm as Charlie. She had a mind of her own.
On this night, she saw the tremendous disappointment in Dick’s face as he rose from the supper table and quietly walked to the hallway, grabbed his jacket and motioned over his shoulder, “I’m going for a walk, be back in a little while.”
It was cold that November night in 1943 as Dick Merrill walked along the dark road from the farmhouse to the main road. He never expressed his anger or frustration in front of others. He kept his feelings to himself and preferred to be alone to collect his thoughts. His parents were trying to keep him home, not because they didn’t want him to go to college, they just didn’t want to let go. Dick was nearly a man, nearly eighteen years old, and he had never dated a girl or been outside of New Hampshire. As a matter of fact, he didn’t even know many girls except Sally Anderson. Sally lived in Plymouth and went to high school there. She was seventeen, a year younger than Dick, but she too was graduating in June, just seven months away. Dick would frequently sit and talk with Sally over a soda at the Hillside Diner in Plymouth where Dick had made several deliveries. She was going to Plymouth Teachers College in the fall and often tried to encourage Dick to do the same. It would be great, he had thought, Sally is not like other girls, she doesn’t try to flirt with people as girls tended to do. Dick liked Sally as a nice person to be with just to talk to and share ideas with. She had a boyfriend who was already away at school at the university in Durham. He had graduated from high school the year before and would write to Sally each week. She would tell Dick about some of the exciting things that went on at college from the letters her boyfriend wrote.
Alice was getting worried. Dick had never stayed out this late on one of his walks. Charlie had gone to bed, the supper dishes had been washed and dried, and the pastries for the next day’s deliveries were all boxed and ready to go. It was ten o’clock, very late for a school night, she thought. Alice knew the difficulty Dick was having in deciding what he was going to do come graduation time. She also knew that the farm and the business were not for him. Sure, he would always work hard at his chores and in making deliveries. But she could see that he only did it to help his father. He would rather be at school or at St. Barnaby’s or alone listening to the birds sing or walking up the mountain on weekends.
Noise from the squeaky hallway door springs brought a smile and a sigh of relief to Alice’s worried face. She knew that Dick would be walking in once he removed his jacket. Dick didn’t head for the kitchen as Alice had expected and as he had always done before when he needed to get advice on a problem or a disagreement with his father. Instead, he headed up the stairs straight for his room. Alice was deeply concerned. She knew that Dick was no longer satisfied with just obeying his father and accepting his wishes. It wasn’t that Dick didn’t love his father and it wasn’t that Charlie merely took advantage of his son’s work for all of these years. Alice knew that Charlie would give his right arm for his son if it were necessary. She also knew that Charlie had never faced the possibility of Dick leaving the farm one day, and he was as confused about Dick’s future as Dick was himself. One thing Alice knew for certain, Dick had to make this decision and only Dick. Charlie’s dream of having his son in the business had to be Dick’s dream also, and it wasn’t.
Alice folded the newspaper she had been glancing at on and off for almost two hours and switched off the small light in the kitchen as she headed up the stairs to bed. As she passed Dick’s room in the darkened corridor, she could hear him talking in his room. His bedroom door was slightly open and Alice stopped to listen to what he was saying. Dick’s bed was behind the doorway as you went in and Alice did not dare go in as all she could see was a ray of light shining on the floor from the moonlit window.
“Dear Lord,” the voice was saying, “help me to find the way. My love for them is the only thing I have, except for you. I can’t desert them now and, yet, I want so much to learn more about the world that I have to go. How do I tell them?” His voice was mellowing now and he was nearly asleep, “Somehow I know you will show me the way.”
Charlie rolled over when Alice got in bed beside him. He was restless. Alice knew he’d be half awake when she entered the room. Whenever Charlie and Dick had serious arguments or when Charlie had to go to the bank the following day for a loan, he usually could not sleep. He could see the glimmer of Alice’s face as she lay by his side staring at the ceiling as if to be a thousand miles away. Her cheeks were filled with tears as she just lay there, motionless. They did not speak, they did not face each other, but they both knew. Dick would be gone by the end of the summer.
As the months passed and spring arrived, Dick’s silence and more frequent periods of solitude became unbearable for Alice.
“We have to talk,” Alice quietly began as she served dinner. “Dick’s going to graduate from school in June and that’s only three months away,” Alice continued, looking straight at Charlie. “He wants to go to college and he’s got the good grades to show for it. Are you two gonna talk to each other about this, or are you gonna keep on chewing up inside until the both of you can’t stand it anymore?”
“Alice, this ain’t your affair. This here is between Dick and me and it doesn’t concern you. Besides, I didn’t think there was anything to discuss. We agreed he would stay here and learn the business for a couple of years before deciding to do anything,” Charlie said as his eyes shifted from Alice to Dick.
“Well, to tell you the truth, Dad,” Dick meekly responded, “there sort of is something I’d like to.”
Before he had a chance to finish his sentence, Alice snapped back, “Like hell it’s none of my business, Charlie Merrill; it’s as much my business and he’s as much my son as he is yours. The
fact is, you stubborn ass, your son wants to go to college bad, or at least to try it, and you can’t see the forest for the trees. He doesn’t want this life for himself, Charlie. Is that so bad? Just because it’s been good to us don’t mean it’s gonna be good for him. When are you gonna let him make up his own mind? He’s gonna be eighteen, for God’s sake!”
There was fire in Alice’s eyes, a rage that Dick had never seen before. This couldn’t be his sweet, quiet mother who never raised her voice at anyone, except maybe once when one of the drivers had dropped and ruined two dozen of her pies while loading the truck.
This was different. This outburst was with Charlie. Never had his parents argued in front of him. The Merrills didn’t think it was good for children to see parents yelling at each other. If they had done so before, Dick had never heard it. But he was hearing it now and he just sat there with his mouth open and could just say, “Mom, Mom, calm down, I was going to bring it up myself.”
“No, you weren’t; you would rather be miserable and do anything that your father wants, even though he doesn’t realize how much you’re hurting, Son,” Alice pleaded as tears started pouring from her eyes. “You can’t keep it in forever, Dick; I won’t stand another minute of this. No mother could ask for a better son all these years. It isn’t right for you to miss out on things anymore. I know there’s not much out here to make life exciting, but your father and me, that’s the way we want it. It don’t mean you gotta put up with living out here. There’s so much of this country out there, Son. Find what you’re looking for. God knows you won’t find it here.”
“I’ve been quiet long enough on this, Charlie, maybe too long. We don’t need any more trucks right now, and even if we did, what’s more important, your son’s future or a stupid truck?” she continued, tears running down her cheeks as if she were standing in the rain. “I won’t let you do this, Charlie; I won’t let you decide for him what he has to decide for himself. We can afford it and you know it. We’re not poor; we have more than most folks around here. Look at him, Charlie, look at him, can’t you see it in his face, can’t you hear him begging you with his silence?”
Flower of Heaven Page 4
