Back to Jerusalem

by Jan Surasky

  “I’ll look for Bud, Mary Lou.”

  Jenny headed for the women’s locker room to freshen up and take the edge off Mary Lou’s assault before she began her hunt. As she passed the employees lounge, she heard loud noises inside, moans and groans added to a few loud shrieks. She stood still, wondering what to do. One of the staff, a longtime regular, came up behind her.

  “What’s goin’ on, Miz Jenny?”

  “I don’t know, William. Perhaps we better find out. Do you have a key?”

  “I do. If you step out of the way, I’ll open the door. You can call for help if we need it.”

  William pushed open the door. There on the lone cot along the far wall lay the tangled heap of two naked bodies in the heat of passion. All noise had stopped. Bud’s face, turned toward the door, was scarlet, his mouth dropped down like a door ajar, the stare on his face frozen as he recognized Jenny beyond William’s shoulder. Katt searched for a towel to cover her lean body.

  William quickly closed the door.

  “You better not look, Miz Jenny.”

  “I already saw, William.”

  “We better get you some help. You don’t look so good.”

  “I’ll be fine, William. I just need some air.”

  As Jenny tried to keep her composure, she fell over the nearby plant on the way to the heavy exit door. William grabbed her arm, leading her through the heavy metal door to the outside, a path to the newly planted garden. There on a bench in a grove of sycamores sat Cliff and Sparky, engrossed in the intensity of their newly discovered conversation.

  “Jen, what happened?”

  Cliff caught Jenny as she started to fall. Sparky reached out to grab her hands.

  “Let’s get you home. Better still, let’s get you to my house.” As they drove in the direction of Sparky’s dilapidated farm, Cliff at the wheel with Sparky comforting Jenny in the back, Jenny filled them in on the details. The trees whizzed by, a blur of green in the thoughts that once held the hopes and dreams of a marriage.

  Chapter Thirty

  Jenny looked round at the shabby but comfortable bedroom Sparky had generously offered. Josh’s small bed sat across from the high colonial double bed that filled the room, a hand-me-down from Sparky’s great aunt, an heirloom as she called it.

  Jenny had moved out from the home she had shared with Bud, leaving behind her artistic touch and the loving decor she had so graciously bestowed upon it. Mother showed up every day at Sparky’s, hoping to talk “some sense” into Jenny’s muddled head.

  “You haven’t given Bud a chance, Jennifer. Boys will be boys. Especially those with an upbringing like Bud’s. He just needs to work things out.”

  “I’ve tried, Mother. Bud refuses to get help.”

  “Well, maybe he doesn’t need help. I wouldn’t give you a nickel for those psychologists. Maybe he just needs to sow his wild oats for a while.”

  “You wouldn’t like it if Father strayed.”

  “Well, your father is not like Bud. He came from a poor family. Rich people feel they have more privileges.”

  “I don’t think that, Mother.”

  “You’re so stubborn, Jennifer. It’s not a good characteristic.”

  “Josh and I will get along, Mother.”

  “You’re such a romantic. Just like your father. That’s why we never had anything.”

  Aunt Gert tried to give support to her niece without ruffling her sister. Father remained neutral. Aunt Gert appeared whenever she could, loaded up with various toys for Josh and a few ribbons and hair ties for Jenny. She took them to her place whenever she could, Chaucer bringing chuckles to Josh despite his difficulty in getting around these days.

  Bud had been less than apologetic.

  “Geez, Jen, it wasn’t anything. Katt was drunk and I was drunk. It was nothing.”

  “I don’t think it was ’nothing’.”

  “You’re so uptight, Jen. You should get out more often and stop doting on that kid.”

  “That ’kid’ is our son, Bud. He needs and deserves good care. And, how can I dote on you when you’re not ever here?”

  “Aw, c’mon, you know I’m under a lot of pressure. Dad has stepped up my duties at the agency.”

  “Does that include late nights with Mandy?”

  “Oh, for gosh sakes, Jen, you’re so possessive. Your jealousy is causing us problems.”

  As Jenny mused on her fate and what she could do to improve it, Josh’s screams brought her back to reality. His teddy bear had gotten stuck behind a dresser down the hall and his arms were too small to retrieve it.

  “Hold on, little man, help is coming.”

  As Jenny got the toy back into his arms, and his tears turned to laughter, she looked at the child caught up in his own little world. Right now, Josh was happy just being fed and changed. His entertainment was simple and his attention span was short. But, what of the future? Could she be both mother and father? Could she provide for his needs relying on herself?

  The door slammed, cutting into her self-imposed reverie. Sparky was back, bearing gifts from New York.

  “Hey, Jen, what goes? Why the long face? I’ve brought you mega oil paints, straight from the Winston Newton store. A few canvases to daub as well.”

  “Oh, Sparky, thanks! It’s been so long since I dabbled in the richness of oils.”

  “No sense letting Mother Nature and this old dilapidated farm go to waste. At least you don’t have to pay it to sit still.

  “And, for Josh, a few items as well. A ball that plays “Over the Rainbow,” a stuffed Scotty dog, and a myriad of colored nesting boxes that would keep any self-respecting nearly two-year-old busy for hours.”

  “Thanks, Sparks. You’re too good to us. And, what’s new in the world of engineering?”

  “Well, we’ve got a new product ready to unveil, but we’re going to wait until next spring so the excitement can mount and the patent will be cleared by the lawyers.”

  “Well, the farm held up while you were gone. But, the tractor broke down. Sammy will be here next week to take a look.”

  “He’s a good guy, Sammy. I don’t know how the Andersons keep him. He’s underpaid and overworked.”

  “He’s happy here. His family depends on him and he’s saving up for a house of his own.”

  “Okay, time to eat. I’m starved. Long wait at the airport. Let’s let Seneca Dairy do the cooking.”

  “Sounds good. How about we pick up some for Aunt Gert and some for Cliff Lyndley and stop by for a couple of visits. Josh and I could use some socializing.”

  “Okay. Let me get out of these Big Apple duds and into something that makes sense. Then, we can do the town.”

  As Sparky changed, Jenny fingered the oils Sparky had brought her. The shades of oranges and reds and the ochres brought visions of the fields and the hills in the fall. She would transfer those thoughts to canvas as soon as Josh was safely in bed.

  But, for now, Jenny thought of the future. She must provide for Josh and for herself. As she pondered the best way to do this, she pulled from her belongings set beside the dresser the slim volume of Blake excerpts Jake had given her at graduation. It had been long since she had thought of Jake, or had taken the time to read poetry at all.

  She scanned the lines of “Jerusalem.” “And did the Countenance Divine, Shine forth upon our clouded hills?...I will not cease from mental fight, Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand, Till we have built Jerusalem, In England’s green and pleasant land.”

  Jenny’s and Josh’s Jerusalem was here in the hills and valleys that surrounded them and in the fields where Mennonites and poor farmers pulled bounty from its earth. Jerusalem would always be home. But, as she packed away the volume of poems, Jenny realized that, for now, Jerusalem would have to be, as it had been for the poet, a sustaining and beautiful vision.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Jenny packed her things with care. She would have to make them last. She had brought the clothes she had accumulated during her
marriage and the furniture she would be taking she had moved to Sparky’s basement.

  The divorce was final, and the judge as lenient as he could be. She had asked for the venue to be changed from Penn Yan, and the court had complied. The case was tried in Syracuse, but the long arm of the Andersons’ influence reached there as well. The maintenance was poor, and the child support even less. She would have to work to support both her and Josh.

  She had gained full custody, however. The Andersons were not interested in another mouth to feed or a child to supervise, so the terms were amiable.

  As Jenny packed, she thought of what lay ahead. She would have to brush up on her shorthand skills, and Miss Ransom, who she had approached after the divorce, agreed to use her influence and connections to help get Jenny a job in New York City. New York would be a place where she and Josh could get lost in the hubbub of daily life and be more anonymous than they could be in Penn Yan. Away from the controlling Andersons and the egocentric antics of Bud.

  “Hey, Jen, I am contributing to that suitcase. Ron Martin is giving up his dry goods store to go back into the practice of law. I have bought up all his sweaters to keep you warm in New York.”

  “Oh Sparks, I owe you so much. You have been too good to us.”

  “Not too good, Jenny. You just have to remember to be good to yourself.”

  “Mom and Dad called. They found you an apartment in Brooklyn. It’s a walk-up. But, it has heat.”

  “Thanks, Sparky. I so appreciate their help.”

  “No problem. They’re looking for something to do since I’m not there to give them trouble.”

  “How much time do I have before the big shindig you decided to throw?”

  “All the time you need. Our guests won’t be here till seven.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t fuss, Sparks.”

  “No fuss. They wanted to come. And, they’re bringing the goodies.”

  “What about Mother and Father?”

  “They turned us down. But, give them time, Jen. Your mother hasn’t gotten used to the divorce yet. And, they’ll be here in the morning to see you off.”

  As Jenny thought about how she could placate Mother, the small, plaintive wails of Josh’s ended nap reached the room.

  “I’ll get him, Jen. He needs to talk things over with old Auntie Sparks.”

  “Thanks, Sparky. I’ll pack his toys last. He’ll need a few for the drive.”

  “He’ll be fine, Jen. Let’s look at it as an adventure. His first trip.”

  As Jenny heard the sounds of Sparky’s attempt at relating to an eighteen-month-old, she thought about his future. Would she be able to summon the strength and the skills to provide for a toddler and herself in a city the size of New York?

  She lay the sweaters Sparky had given her carefully in her suitcase. The warmth of the afternoon sun creeping through the old, farmhouse windows warmed her back, much as it had when she had ridden as a toddler on the seat of Father’s tractor. She would work to give Josh the strength he would need to find his place in the world, but first she must brush up on her shorthand skills so she could support them.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Aunt Gert had outdone herself. The best champagne, pastry cheese puffs just out of the oven, salmon mousse, and the finest brie cheese she could find.

  “This is not a going away party,” she emphasized. “You will always have a place here. This is just to wish you and Josh the best of luck in your quest to mow the world down.”

  “Sweet sentiment, Aunt Gert, but I am only hoping for survival on our own.”

  “You’ll find it, Jenny. You have a lot of gifts and a lot of skills.”

  “How about setting out the tableware,” shouted Sparky, her voice rising from the kitchen over a very loud clatter of pots and pans. “I’m warming up Aunt Gert’s pot roast.”

  “Cliff’s not here, yet.”

  “He’ll be here in a flash. Held up by a pushy parishioner.

  “How about putting on some music? I’ve got tapes of Fleetwood Mac, James Taylor, and, of course, The Grateful Dead.”

  “Will do. How will that go over with Cliff? Shouldn’t we have something tamer?”

  “He’s cool. I found we share a love of music. I also found despite his rather square demeanor he has a slightly wild side waiting to come out.”

  “How about you, Aunt Gert? Wouldn’t you like something more period?”

  “Not me, Jenny. I try to keep up with the students. To do that, you have to know their music.”

  Jenny chose the James Taylor LP. More upbeat, she thought. His people had lives and dreams. The cowpoke in “Sweet Baby James.” They had loyalty. “You’ve Got a Friend.” She was lucky. To be surrounded by friends who gave her the hope she needed to face an uncertain future.

  “Hi, folks. Sorry I’m late.” The door slammed as Cliff came through it with a bunch of flowers in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. “Some of the parishioners believe they have a divine mandate to cause as much trouble as they can.”

  “Don’t pay them much mind, Cliff” said Aunt Gert. “I’ve heard nothing but good things about the church since you have worked so hard to bring it into this century.”

  “Some people don’t think so. They think young people should be seen but not heard. They think the Sunday morning youth services with guitars are nothing short of heathen.”

  “Hi Cliff. What beautiful flowers. And, a bottle of Dr. Frank Pinot. How perfect for a first-class pot roast dinner.” Sparky had reappeared from the kitchen, her old, red and white checkered apron still generously spattered with Aunt Gert’s pot roast gravy.

  “I see Sarah and Jesse’s buggy in the driveway. Let’s set that table.”

  As they sat around Sparky’s idea of a dining room table, a large door she had salvaged from the old barn, Jenny looked round at her friends and at the aunt she was closest to in her childhood. She would miss them and the warmth of the small town she had grown up in. She secretly resented the Andersons and the strength of their far-reaching influence. But, she promised she would look at this as a new and exciting adventure.

  Sarah announced the news of her pregnancy. She and Jesse would be parents in June. Everyone offered their congratulations and they all proposed a toast.

  “Will you see Jake when you get to New York?”

  “I don’t think so, Sarah. I don’t think he needs a runaway divorcee on his hands.”

  “He graduates from law school this June. He has been promised a very good job with a big law firm there.”

  “How nice. He has certainly achieved success.”

  “It depends on how you look at it. We miss him and he’s not here to take care of Pa as the eldest son should.”

  “Well, perhaps now that he has finished law school, he’ll have more time to look in on you and your family.”

  The conversation turned to what Jenny would do in New York, Sparky’s spring planting and Aunt Gert’s delicious pot roast. Sarah presented Jenny with a beautiful star point quilt she and her sisters had made and a little knit cap for Josh. Cliff gave her his favorite quotes in a beautiful leather bound book. Aunt Gert gave her an envelope of introductions to Miss Ransom’s business acquaintances and a promise to visit whenever she could.

  As they cleared the table and set it for dessert, a scrumptious cherry pie Sarah had baked, Jenny realized how much she would miss the warmth of their friendship. But, Josh was depending on her now to lay the groundwork for their future. She laid their gifts carefully in her suitcase after they left.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Jenny hammered nails into the wall of the newly painted but dilapidated apartment. Mrs. Caputo, the landlady, had given her permission to hang any artwork she wanted without penalty. Jenny was determined to turn the corner of the rather drab studio apartment into a proper nursery for Josh. In that spirit, she hammered a nail squarely into the ochre-hued wall, hanging a brightly colored picture of a cat and mouse fishing together along a very blue stream.
The stream reminded her of home.

  Not that there wasn’t an outside in New York or Brooklyn. There was, but Jenny didn’t seem to notice. The buildings were overwhelming, and getting a toddler up seven flights of stairs seemed to put a dent into the natural curiosity of her surroundings.

  New York City was an enigma, defying every law of nature. Buildings everywhere. Some ancient, with every bit of ancient architecture intact, though old and crumbling. Some ultra modern, some in the process of being built, or certainly remodeled. Scaffolding was everywhere.

  Streets were lined with the backs of these buildings, or the fronts, depending on which route a walker chose. The main idea was to get from one place to another, ignoring the buildings, which were too tall to see in their entirety, unless one stood back and gawked, risking the ire of the passersby who were all trying to get someplace. New Yorkers were intent on getting someplace.

  Brooklyn, of course, was filled with rows and rows of drab buildings. No nature, or at least it seemed that way to Jenny. She barely heard the pigeons that cooed and made a mess of the buildings, or saw the sparrows that lined the telephone wires in their need to find a place a roost.

  Jenny had been in Brooklyn almost a week and had met no one except for Mrs. Caputo. Sparky’s parents were away for a month but were expected back next week. As Jenny hammered, a knock at the door interrupted her avid concentration. She opened it to find a fidgety young woman in jeans and a tattered tee-shirt.

  “Hi, my name is Dee Donetti. I live down the hall. Mrs. Caputo told me you just moved in.”

  “Thanks for stopping by, Dee. My name is Jenny. Would you like to come in?”

  “Sure.”

  “Would you like some tea, or coffee?”

  “Coffee. Strong, with lots of cream and sugar.”

  “I’ll just start a fresh pot.”

  “I see you have a little boy.” Josh was sitting in the corner with his playthings, staring unabashedly at the “intruder.”

  “Yes, his name is Josh.”

  “Hi, Josh.” Dee looked over at Josh, her face all aglow with an attempt at wiggling her nose. Josh laughed.