by Jan Surasky
The eggs were still in the nest, the beautiful blue still a wonder as they lay cradled in the twigs of a carefully crafted home site.
As Will headed for home, I studied the sunset, idly ticking off the many shades of mauves and pinks that crowded the sky. I made a mental note to round Georgie up from the roadside stand he had made with the help of Josie, and where he spent many hours showcasing the fruits of his labors, and to save some supper for Carrie when she returned at ten dished from serving sodas and sundaes to the late night crowd at Sandler’s.
I entered the kitchen, pulling the big crockery mixing bowl from its place on the highest shelf. I mixed up a batch of biscuits while the aroma of baked ham studded with cloves and laid with pineapple filled the room and wafted out through the screens of the open windows toward the gentle breezes of a very warm summer evening.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Carrie and I waded through the tall, thick grasses of the meadows, the deep pink red buds of the wood roses and the perfect pink of the blossoms in bloom all around us, as we headed out to pick berries from the berry patches that studded Strawberry Hill and rhubarb from the patch Mama had planted just this year aside the barn from crowns she had wheedled from Alma Taylor in exchange for some potted plants Alma had had her eye on. Mama was in the kitchen preparing a crust for a strawberry rhubarb pie she had found a recipe for in one of the glossy magazines she relied on that held menus for special occasions that promised to impress your guests and perhaps even make you the talk of your social circles as she worked to prepare a Sunday dinner for Pastor Ezekiel Brown and his family whose invitation to today’s dinner she had wangled almost a year ahead from the president of the ladies’ church group.
Pastor Brown, or “Zeke” as he was known to his younger parishioners, was a replacement for Reverend Morton who had retired due to ill health and a rebel escaped from the pressures of urban congregations. Although his annual salary in Pottersville was less than his former urban flocks were able to pay, he was well fed by the ladies of Pottersville who brought him chickens and eggs, roasts and pies, and vegetables and fruits of all kinds handpicked at harvest time and then canned for the winter season.
Pastor Brown’s wife, Elizabeth, as small and quiet as he was big and brawny, was a good addition to the Pottersville church, joining the ladies’ group, and knitting mittens and socks for the poorer children of Pottersville and the poverty pockets of Syracuse. Their children, very young, and very close in age, were models of good behavior.
As we trekked through tangles of meadow grasses, stopped only by a squirrel or two, or a rabbit running scared and zig zagging in search of its meadow home, Carrie was uncharacteristically silent. “Hey, Squirrel, what happened to the gossip? You must have plenty to tell working at Sandler’s Drugs.”
“I do. Especially about the feud that’s going on between Mr. Sandler and old Mrs. Abernathy who’s certain that Mr. Sandler has been cheating her and replacing her medications with pills of the wrong color since her mind has gone and her son hasn’t taken the time to get her to a doctor in Syracuse.
“But, all I can think of is my wedding. What color the bridesmaids dresses, what flowers to deck the church with, what flowers to carry, who should have corsages and boutonnieres and whether Jamie and I should write the oath or use the traditional standard. A lot of girls, and boys too, are writing their own these days.”
“That’s a lot to think about. But, more important, how are you and Jamie going to live? Where will you live? Have you settled all that yet?”
“I guess I just thought it would work itself out. It’s a year away. But, I know Jamie wants to become a buyer in a big department store in New York. He just loves retail and wants someday to make his mark in it and rise to the top somehow.”
“That’s an ambitious goal. Jamie’s bright and talented, so he’ll most likely land there, but what about you?”
“I think I’ll look for a job when the time comes, wherever we are. Mama’s not happy that we won’t be settling down here, but there’s nothing for Jamie here to get him a start in his career. He has connections in New York and he intends to use them.
“But, I told Mama we would visit as often as we could. Jamie’s folks have promised him a car for graduation, so we can make it on Jamie’s days off. There should be plenty of opportunity for that and he loves it here, especially in the summer when his folks open their summer home.”
“What about Georgie? He’s been so quiet lately, hanging his head and looking sad when he thinks no one is watching.”
“I guess I’ve been so busy planning my wedding I haven’t noticed. I think I’ll take Georgie into Mayberry on Saturday. There’s a western playing at the new movie house and we can stop in at Sandler’s back in town for a double chocolate soda.”
“I think he’d like that. As for me, who will I gossip with at night, or on lazy Sunday afternoons on Strawberry Hill?
“Annie May, I know I’ve been selfish and only thinking of myself in all this excitement, but we will always be sisters. I promise I will write often, and you will be the first to know every bit of gossip I can dig up on those New York socialites.
“Now, I guess we’d better start picking berries. Mama will be needing them for that pie she’s baking for the new minister and his family. We can’t let her down. She needs to best Mayva Williams whose trying to edge her out for a place on that new ladies’ group committee.”
Sunday dinner was a success, and Reverend Brown and his wife very appreciative. Pastor Brown had a large helping of the ham Mama had baked so slowly in the big old oven and had glazed with fresh pineapple, fresh cherries, scored by hand and studded so carefully with clove buds she had found in one of her catalogues imported from the Far East, and a second helping of the strawberry rhubarb pie.
“Marylee, I hear you’re a great asset to the ladies’ group. Elizabeth was astonished at the number of mittens you turned in for the holidays. It’s a lot of work to run this farm. We’re very appreciative.”
“I have a lot of help with the farm in my brother-in-law John Turner. He’s seen to it that the farm runs as smoothly as it can after we lost Tyler.
“Tyler was a church-going man, Reverend. He couldn’t always get there for Sunday service but he believed there was a special power that brought round the harvest besides the long hours of labor he spent and the many hours of reading he did to keep up with the many new advances.”
“You have served his memory well, Marylee. You have a beautiful place here and a very special family. I hear you will be tying the knot, Caroline. When is the big day?”
“Next June, Pastor. We have so many details to plan before the big day.”
“If you and your young man ever need to seek my council I will be there to hear you. Marriage is a big step.”
“I appreciate that.
“And John George, will you be taking over the farm when you come of age?”
“I would like to. Uncle John says I’m a natural.”
“Well, good for you. And, Anabel May, what do you choose to do?”
“Right now I’m studying English literature at Syracuse. I hope to teach.”
“The world always needs good teachers. It’s a noble vocation.
“And now, it’s time to stretch after such a wonderful meal. I know Elizabeth will want to help the ladies clean up. Maybe John George could help me with the young ones and give us a tour of this wonderful farm. I know besides taking a ride on the tractor they’ve had their eye on the tire swing out back.”
Elizabeth Brown was a delight. She not only helped Mama, she talked wedding colors with Carrie and was a whiz in the history of English literature.
Georgie gave tractor rides to the little ones, pushed them on the tire swing, played tag and hide and seek, always letting them win. Reverend Brown showed them a game of touch tag played with a ball that he had learned in divinity school.
It was plain to see that Mama was a shoo-in for the spot on the ladies’ committee.
As the Browns said their goodbyes, thanking Mama profusely and murmuring encouraging words to the rest of us, I looked at Mama. The lines that had begun to form on her face had become more deeply etched and her hair was losing its beautiful chestnut color with strands of gray. But, the glow on her face was unmistakable.
As Carrie and I settled in for the night after a round of board games with Georgie, we exchanged our usual gossip, Carrie’s from Sandler’s Drugs and mine overheard in the dressing rooms of Peterson’s Dry Goods. The night was hot and sticky, no breeze from the open window, but the beams of a full moon shone through and dimly lit our room with a soft, silvery blue.
I lay on top of the covers hoping for a breeze to come up. With tomorrow an early morning at Sandler’s, Carrie was sound asleep.
Chapter Thirty
The following summer was a hot one according to the records of Onondaga County and was filled with flurry and excitement. Georgie graduated from high school and Carrie and Jamie from college.
Kinfolk came from all over, some who we hadn’t seen for years, and some who had kept in touch with Christmas cards and notices of baptisms.
Tents were pitched in meadows and campers parked in campgrounds near Mayberry. Mama and Aunt Maybelle had been freezing tiny sandwiches for months and the ladies of the church group had come round mixing salads and slaws, baking beans, and bringing cakes and pies, and cookies of all kinds.
Georgie and Uncle John dug a pit and lined it with stones for cooking hams and roasts and fish caught in the streams that ran out back behind the town and roasting marshmallows on spits after dark.
Carrie’s wedding followed graduation and most of the guests stayed on to celebrate and wish Carrie and Jamie well. Friends of Jamie’s folks arrived, filling hotels in the larger cities around.
Carrie was a beautiful bride and Reverend Brown performed a beautiful ceremony. Orchids filled the church, thanks to Jamie’s mother and her careful tending of the greenhouse attached to their summer place at the edge of town.
Max was best man and Georgie an usher with me as the only attendant to Carrie. Mama had spent most of the spring sewing our dresses following Carrie’s design and had made her own, a green silk that took her fancy when Hank Peterson gave her first dibs on the newest bolts that arrived in early spring from New York.
The wedding was Carrie’s idea of a compromise with Mama. Carrie had insisted on a church wedding and Mama had carried visions of Carrie as a bride in our parlor or outside if the weather was sunny.
All of our kinfolk who had known Papa walked up the aisle with Georgie insisting he had grown to be a spitting image. Those who were friends of Jamie’s family were certain that everyone who filled the church was quaint.
Will arrived in a summer linen suit, his home haircuts from his early years traded in for the posh trim of a Mayberry barber. I was certain all of Carrie’s classmates who were guests at the wedding would be vying for his attentions immediately after the ceremony.
Josie arrived as well, looking slender and lovely in a turquoise blue silk dress, her eyes still looking red and swollen from a breakup with Jackson who buckled to a threat by his parents who promised to disinherit him if he didn’t drop her and find a more appropriate choice from their social set.
“Hey, Annie May, what made you turn in your tomboy outfits for high fashion?”
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Will. I see the overalls are gone.”
“I just squeaked back for the wedding. I’m staying on for a few weeks as a research assistant. One of my profs asked me to do the detail work for a paper he’s presenting in Austria. It’s a great chance to get a start and learn about techniques and the latest in discoveries around the world.”
“That’s exciting. We’ll miss you on the farm.”
“I’ll be back in July. Georgie should be running things along with your Uncle John by then. He’s a new graduate and I hear he’s going to be a full-time farmer.”
“Yes, he’s firm about that. Mama is a tad bit disappointed because she wanted us all to go to college. But, Georgie can’t wait to get a start in farming. He has a bundle of big ideas.”
“He’s a good farmer, Annie May. He beat out everybody at the market in sales when he was only thirteen. And, he has great ideas on how to rotate the crops and how to get the most yield for the money.”
At that, Alison Jones, the church organist hired for the occasion, began to play and everyone scurried for their seats. I walked up the aisle with Georgie, proud as could be, to take my place next to Jamie and Max. A hush fell as everyone waited for Carrie to make her entrance.
Alison Jones broke the silence with a rousing “Here Comes the Bride” and Carrie entered, erect and steady on Georgie’s arm. Gasps arose as the guests stood to get a better look.
Carrie’s dress was a vision, a beautiful satin covered with delicate seed pearls, a large satin bow in the back beneath the tiny little buttons, and a veil of French silk tulle uncovered in a search of an enormous Rochester fabric store. Whispers rose immediately from the Manhattanites that it was surely a Coco Chanel.
I didn’t have to look at Mama to know the pride she was feeling. Her eyes were full of tears as Carrie and Georgie reached the altar. I remembered to take the spot I had been assigned so Carrie could take her place beside Jamie and recite her vows.
Both Carrie and Jamie had written their own vows, a step that had not as yet been taken in the small church of Pottersville, but Reverend Brown was happy to insert them into the ceremony. I had secretly been enlisted to help Carrie with hers and Jamie was glowing with anticipation to hear them read before the crowd of parishioners and his Manhattan guests.
Max had the rings and Emma, Aunt Maybelle’s youngest, was flower girl intent upon keeping Carrie’s train from dragging along the floor. The ceremony went fast, and Reverend Brown departed slightly from the usual patter to inject his own words of wisdom.
As Carrie and Jamie walked back down the aisle glowing with excitement and happiness there were tears in the eyes of many of the guests, even the most hardened from New York. As they exited the church to wait outdoors, the rest of us filed out into the sunlight greeted cordially by Pastor Brown standing in the doorway to the organ playing of Alison Jones who had changed the beat of the music to match the tempo of the jazz she dearly loved and jammed with until all hours of the night with like-minded friends who filled her tiny house set back in the middle of the village.
The reception, held at home at Mama’s request, was a continuation of the graduation celebration, and lasted well into the night. Carrie and Jamie joined us for a few hours until they left for New York and a short honeymoon at a seaside resort on the New Jersey shore, a gift of Jamie’s parents.
As I carried platters of small sandwiches and refilled bowls of slaw, Max found me. “Annie May, it’s so nice to see you. It seems like it’s been forever since we shared a spring weekend and I was a social clod.”
“I didn’t think you were a clod, just a freshman getting used to college life. I felt very honored that you shared with me your favorite clearing off the beaten path of the Harvard Yard. There was so much peace there. I enjoyed our talk.”
“Thanks to our talk I switched my major. I went after what I wanted instead of what the generations assumed I’d follow. I have a double major in history and government. I’ll be getting a masters and plan to go into politics, for better or worse.”
“I’m so glad, Max. You have a gift and I’m glad you will be sharing it with the citizens of this country.”
“Thanks, Annie May. I have you to thank for encouraging me to follow my dreams and to stand up for what I think. No girl ever believed in me before. I will never forget your help. And, I wish you all the luck in the world in whatever you do.”
“I am planning on teaching. One more year to go and then a masters.”
“You’ll make a great teacher.”
Max turned to go, but thought better of it, blushed and blurted out, “Anni
e May, is your friend Josie dating anyone in particular?”
“Not now, Max. She just broke up with someone. She’s pretty delicate right now. I’m not sure she’s interested.”
“Well, I’d like to ask her out but I don’t want to upset her.”
“You can try. I’ll put in a good word for you. She has a passion for history like you do. I think she would like getting to know you.”
“Thanks, Annie May. Well, I think I better go do my job. Jamie and Carrie will be leaving soon and I want to propose another toast.”
Carrie and Jamie left before sundown to make it to the New Jersey shore, and then, after their stay, to a seven floor walk-up in Brooklyn Jamie had found to fit the budget of two new college graduates. Jamie’s graduation present, an old Dodge coupe, was fitted with a “just married” sign along the rear window and several tin cans and shoes tied neatly to the bumper, thanks to his college friends and several of the locals who were experts in the matter.
Mama held up as best she could in saying goodbye to Carrie, and Georgie and I did our best to bolster Mama. Carrie promised to call when they got there and to write as often as she could.
The celebration went on for hours after their departure. Most of the Manhattan guests had left after the ceremony, but those who stayed kept to themselves, clucking about the quaintness of the rural life they had never seen up close. But after a number of cups of Mama’s punch, spiked with the spirits she liked best, they kicked off their heels, joined in the fun, sang as lustily as the rest of us around the campfire roasting marshmallows, and even joined the square dancing listening intently to the caller, and rooted for their favorites in the fiddling contest.
Will left early to get back to school and Max and Josie want off by themselves, engrossed in conversation. I looked up at the stars, bright as could be in a clear, dark sky. I was certain that those that were twinkling carried an omen for the future and the moon, which was nearly a full one, had a smile on the mythical creature inside it.
