chapter 43

"Well, I'd better be getting out to help with chores...he'll have them cows all milked otherwise," Jed picked up his cup and drained its contents. "I wish I had more answers, Peaches...or at least better answers," he carried the cup over to the sink.

"So do I," Agnes sighed and began sorting and stacking dishes. Frowning, she took the kettle over and pumped water from the cistern into it then set it on the stove to heat.
"We had such a late tea--I think I'll just heat up some vegetable soup from the jars, and we can have the left over sandwiches with that...along with the cake. That be all right, Jed?"

"That'll be just fine," he said sticking his head back into the kitchen. "I think we should invite the Pickerells over Friday night. We haven't had a night together for awhile."

"That would be so nice!" Agnes' face brightened. "Jed," she walked over to where he stood half in and half out of the door.

"Yes, darlin'?" he smiled down at her.

"Have I told you in the last...oh, let's say half a minute...how wonderful you are?" she buttoned his old patched chore coat for him and smiled up into his handsome face. "You know, I was right all along."

"Oh? And just what were you right all along about?"

"You are the most handsome man I have ever known...or could ever know."

"Peaches, you are plumb hoodwinked...but that's alright by me!"

"No, that's the truth! I'll call Bessy right away, and find out if they have plans. Now, get out there and get busy on those chores, you handsome man!"

"Yes, ma'am!" smiling, he stepped back out the door.
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"What do you think is going on then?" Jed pushed back a ways from the table as Agnes began clearing the food and dishes away.

"Some folks are saying it's the end of the world, but then people have been claiming that almost every year," David also sat back. "To tell you the truth--I don't know what to think," he handed Bessy his plate.

"You know what folks said when Earhart disappeared. Now there are rumors, and rumblings coming from Europe... We have a new game..." Jed walked over to the closet where the games were kept and opened the door. "Gene," he called. "Gene, I think it's time to get out that new game...you want to come help us learn this game?"

Gene thumped down the stairs, a book tucked under his arm. "What is it?"

"Are you going to come help us with this game?" Jed repeated.

"I don't want to be an odd man out..." he hesitated. "What's the game?"

"You don't play partners in this one...it's--Monoplier--" Jed winked at Gene.

"Jed! You know it's Monopoly!"

"Well, yes it is, Peaches! Just giving your Aunt a ribbing..." he whispered.

"Some things don't change, do they Gene?" David helped arrange the chairs as Bessy patted the table dry. "I've played Monopoly a couple of times since it's come out."

"Good--we've never played, and it looks complicated--" Jed began laying the board out.

"Not really hard, just long. Probably a good idea to set a time limit...we don't want to stay all night..."

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David looked at the clock, "I think this will be a good time to end...it's nine o'clock. By the time we get the game put away..."

"And have another cup of coffee and a little piece of dessert!" Agnes insisted. "Your babies certainly are good," she said picking up the dice.

"We don't usually go visiting, and the baby isn't always this quiet. Must be a start of something good," Bessy said with a hopeful glance toward the parlor where the baby slept peacefully.

"Ha! Ha! who would have thought! Bessie, you won the game...look--you have the most property and the most money!" Jed pointed to Bessie's stash.

"Well, I just bought what I landed on," she answered indignantly.

"That's that," Jed finished putting the pieces into the box and replaced the lid. "Agnes, do you have the pie ready?"

"She sure does!" Gene brought in a tray with warm cinnamony, apple smells wafting from its contents. He set off the plates of pie, while Bessie brought in the coffee pot and cups. Agnes brought in a pitcher of cream and the crystal sugar bowl.

"What I think is this--Chamberlain and Petain have played footsie with this guy, Hitler. He doesn't think they'll call him on what he's doing..."

"Will they? What do you think? And what will that mean for us?"

"I think they'll have to...I don't think he'll stop. He's a bully. Just look at how he got where he is. Those 'brown shirts', as they call them."

"Yeah, kind of reminds me of back in the twenties when we were hearing about the gangsters in Chicago," Jed said.

"Oh, Jed! That's terrible!"

"We hear worse than that..." David toyed with his fork.

"I'd just as soon not!" Bessie's mouth was set in a tight line.

"I know, I know," he held up his hand. "I don't think it will involve us. Our policy since the last end all war is we want to stay out of it."

"I don't think it should involve us--why should our young men have to...!" Agnes stopped as the color rose to her cheeks.

"If we man the factories and help supply their armies with food...I think that should be enough. Shouldn't it, David?" Bessie asked.

"After England and France have dallied and dawdled around...France is counting on their defenses holding. All they have to do is pull back behind the Maginot line and be ready."

Gene held out his plate, and, with a smile, his Aunt scooped another large serving onto it.

"Thank you...you make the very best pie!" he said as she handed him the cream pitcher.

Agnes only half listened to Jed and David discuss local news and the happenings in Europe. Out of the corner of her vision she watched as Gene ate a sugary bite of apple covered with flaky crust. She watched as he savored that bite while he scooped up the next one. How many times she had marveled that he never took things for granted. Such a thoughtful, thankful person for one so young. She wondered if he realized how much this conversation had to do with him, and she shuddered. Agnes took a bite of her pie to keep her mouth from crying out: "He's too young! He's only sixteen!" As she chewed slowly she remembered the scrawny ten year old, scared and scarred from his difficult childhood. She reflected on the years since the death of both of his parents, his coming to live here in this quiet Midwest town, and the many changes life had wrought in his...and her...life.

Oh, my God, she prayed, please take care of him...we love him so! Her thoughts continued as the loved ones from her past marched through her mind. The ones who had left for the last war and never came back. Most were so young when they left; the ones who had come home were old, with a haunted look in their eyes.

"I don't know why if there is so much hunger...why has the government come in and killed them pigs..." she heard Jed exclaim then went back to her reverie.

Here was her beloved son. Adopted, yes, but he couldn't be more her own son if he had been part of her body. Agnes remembered the day a few months ago when Jed explained the process of shaving. Their boy was growing up...and now these horrible rumors. Suddenly her attention was yanked back to the adult conversation.

"And ye shall hear of wars and rumors of wars; see that ye be not troubled: for these things must needs come to pass; but the end is not yet..." she heard David say.

"What are you saying?" she turned to their guest.

"I'm saying that just as our Lord predicted these so called 'signs' have been happening since shortly after his ascension into heaven."

"So are you saying that the second coming will come soon?"

"No," he shook his head. "No, what I'm saying is this, 'Take ye heed, watch and pray: for ye know not when the time is. It is as when a man, sojourning in another country, having left his house, and given authority to his servants, to each one his work, commanded also the porter to watch. Watch therefore: for ye know not when the lord of the house cometh, whether at even, or at midnight, or at cockcrowing, or in the morning; lest coming suddenly he find you sleeping. And what I say unto you I say unto all, Watch.' We find this in Mark 13:33-37--it says 'No man knows the time', and it also warns us to 'watch and pray'."

"I don't know," Jed pulled at his lower lip. "There's so much trouble in the world. So much..." he hesitated searching for the right word.

"Wickedness," Bessie supplied.

"Travail?" Agnes added.

"It's like the creation is being pulled--maybe torn--in so many directions."

"Like taffy at a taffy pull," David said.

"Yes. It's as if evil is pulling our lives--all of us--in every such direction," Jed agreed slowly. "We aren't really being pulled by--good--in any direction."

"I think that God IS our Rock. God IS our anchor that keeps us from being torn to pieces. If we hold to him, and keep him as our pole star that is our only hope as Satan pummels this world," David agreed. "Otherwise, all is lost."
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Changes, changes! Gene thought a few weeks later as he went about the morning chores. The weather had turned cold. There was snow on the ground, but not like there had been a year ago. He opened the gate and the cows filed out into the lot, then he waded through the half frozen mud, to push open the north pasture gate.

Gene shivered as the cold wind blew over the winter landscape. It was not a day for lingering outside. He quickened his step to the next stop--the farrowing house. Uncle Jed had not kept many hogs. He had a few sows, and fattened a few pigs on slop, skimmed milk and home raised grain. Hog prices were so low, his uncle had only a few for himself, and for bartering. He checked the sows and their piglets then stopped only long enough to wipe his nose across his cotton chore glove before opening the door. The wind stung his eyes when he stepped out and closed the door behind him. He pulled his cap down firmly, and pushed his way against the wind toward the back porch.

It was demanding work with Uncle Jed gone, but there was a satisfaction that came with working the land and caring for the animals. There was a natural rhythm to it. On the back porch, he slipped his boots off and hung his hat and old chore coat on the hooks. Reaching up and lifting a ham from the hook, he carried it through the pantry and wash room, into the kitchen.

Gene sliced several cold boiled potatoes into a skillet of grease to fry, cut several slices from the ham and threw them into the same hot skillet. Now all he had to do was slide his pan of biscuits into the hot oven. He opened the keeper and took the butter and jam out. He frowned as a knock sounded at the front door. Just who could that be? He muttered as the knock came again.

"Coming!" he called out and placed the jam and butter on the table.

"Come in...Come in!" Gene held the door wide as the wind swirled around the well-wrapped figure at the door.

"Thank you, thank you. It's rather blustery out there today!" The man exclaimed as he pulled the scarf from around his face and stepped inside.

"What brings you out here, Mr. Dorking...I haven't seen you for quite sometime!" Gene was astonished. "My Uncle isn't home right now--I persuaded him to take Aunt Agnes and baby Nissa on a trip to visit his step-mother--"

"It wasn't your Uncle Jed that I came to speak to--"

"Can I offer you a cup of coffee? I was just fixing up some breakfast...how about a bite of something?"

"Don't let me interrupt your breakfast," Mr. Dorking held up his hands in protest.

"It's no problem...let me take your hat and coat...just wipe your shoes on the rug there, and follow me.

"Some coffee will be fine," he said as he followed Gene's directions. "I've never been out this far into the country...You have a very nice place here."

"Thank you. Aunt and Uncle have been here about sixteen years, I think. If you don't mind we can sit here in the kitchen...that's where I usually eat when I'm bachelor-ing," Gene led the way to the kitchen.

"That will be fine. So, do they rent here, or are they buying this farm?" Mr. Dorking sat down on the sturdy wooden chair that his host indicated for him. "This is quite a pleasant house," he said looking around the kitchen. A black wrought iron plant stand containing flourishing red geraniums sat in a place of honor to one side of a large, many paned window which was adorned by lacy white curtains. The sturdy wooden kitchen table sat next to the geraniums, looking out on the porch and further out to the farm lane. There were floor to ceiling cherry wood cabinets all along the north side of the kitchen, a deep double sink was positioned in front of a window. The door at the far end of the kitchen exited to the pantry which contained the sink, cistern pump, and wash basin. A large well polished cook stove dominated the south wall next to the door to the upstairs, and the remainder of the south wall was covered with necessary items for cooking; pots, pans, colanders, large spoons and spatulas. Back toward the kitchen and living room door hung a large calendar, and a rack covered in colorful, clean, starched aprons.

Gene poured his guest a cup of coffee and set it in front of him on the kitchen table. "Help yourself there to the sugar...I'll get the cream--" he went off in search of the cream pitcher. "Uncle Jed bought it...he owned it before he got married. He's added some land to it since, but the original eighty he owned before," he said as he brought the pitcher of cream to the table. "I have enough ham and potatoes fried up...the biscuits are baked, and there's some strawberry jam."

"No, no, I don't usually eat much for mornings, but I wouldn't mind a biscuit--it has been quite some time since I've had homemade strawberry jam. Your Uncle is quite lucky then to own...and not to have lost...his farm..." he looked at the enticing biscuits steaming and hot, nestled in the bread basket.

Mr. Dorking waited quietly as Gene offered a brief prayer.

"Uncle Jed doesn't believe much in what most folks call 'luck'," Gene passed the butter dish and the jam. "His father passed away and left his boys with an inheritance--some of them used their portion wisely, and some didn't. And Uncle Jed has never been one to waste anything. When some of the other farmers were buying bigger machinery, trying to expand, Uncle continued to use what he had, and weigh carefully what he bought. He's never been one to go into debt. He says that's based on scriptures."

"That's so, it is scriptural..." Mr. Dorking set to stirring his coffee. "How long will your Aunt and Uncle be away?"

"They start home a week from Friday," Gene squinted at the dates on the calendar sporting picture of the large Rhode Island Red Rooster.

"They'll be home just before the Pickerells leave...it will be different without them here, won't it?"

"Yes, it will. We will miss them." Gene munched on his biscuit as he wondered what this was leading to. No doubt about it, Mr. Dorking had aged over the summer before the news that Angela was not the Dorkings' natural daughter had exploded like a bomb in Littleton. Now, since becoming the center of gossip his hair had turned completely white.

"What I have to speak to you about won't take long...Mrs. Dorking and I," here the man paused.

Gene waited, also stirring his coffee. "Would you like a refill?" he offered.

"Certainly...yes, I..." Mr. Dorking said self-consciously.

Gene warmed up both cups of coffee and put the pot back on the stove. It struck him as odd to be sitting down in his Uncle and Aunt's kitchen across from his former teacher and coach. Mr. Dorking had often left the impression he was slightly above his Littleton acquaintances in society, and indeed, he still carried himself with an air of style. His polished shoes, his dress slacks, white shirt, tie, and tweed suit coat gave him a casual elegance, but there was a difference in some way.

"My sister and I grew up in--modest circumstances. We came from the poor side of a well off New England family. Not well off like the Henrey family of course. They came from the upper crust on both sides of the pond. Edna and I both went to school and bettered ourselves--moved up in society, and..." he sat in thought for awhile.

Gene ran the information through his mind. So this was what the adults only whispered about.

"Edna was the one who found the poor mother. She had become a casual acquaintance with the mother only the day before. About ten o'clock in the morning Walter knocked on the door to our apartment--which was right next to theirs--his baby sister was crying, and he couldn't 'awake his mummy', he said. The judge assumed we, Edna and I, were husband and wife. We would have taken both the children--never did figure out why the court split them up. Edna has never longed to marry, she had the little girl she wanted, the money and prestige...that was enough for her. We lived well enough for a time, and things went smoothly--until I met someone. Then our charade fell apart piece by piece. I married my someone, but...it didn't work well as you may imagine," he sighed. "I don't know why I'm telling all of this to you...by rights I shouldn't be burdening a young kid with this. It's only that I will be moving. After all of these years I'm going to have my own home, my own wife, and make a life of my own."

"But?"

"Yes, that is the question. What about Edna. I know it may not have appeared that Edna loved Angela...I think even Edna lost sight. She played the part so well that she became Angela's mother in her own mind. And now what will become of her? I know you are still in contact with Walter and Angela. I guess I was hoping you could speak to Mr. Henrey. I have two letters," he drew them from an inside pocket. "One is for Mr. Henrey, and the other for Angela. Both are from me--Edna doesn't know. My sister is a broken woman. She has no one to turn to. I will of course help her, but...?" he shrugged and let the question dangle.

"In a few weeks...at the first of the year I am to go for a visit...Walter has asked me to join him...I will take your letters along with me. I can't guarantee anything. I will give them both to Mr. Henrey, he will be in charge of anything else. If that is acceptable to you--?"

"Yes. I am not asking you to sneak, or do anything dishonest. Just deliver them for me," he handed two thin envelopes across the table to Gene. "Thank you so much..." he stood up and offered his hand. "Young man, I want you to know that I've admired your pluck and courage."

Gene stood and grasped the offered hand. "Thank you, sir. I'm not sure what you mean by pluck and courage, but I appreciate the thought."

"You and Lonnie were my best players on the team. Even in tough situations neither of you backed down, but Gene--in some way--you stood for something. Angela was an excellent judge of character, and she thought you were the best."

"That means a lot to me."

Gene watched out the kitchen window as Mr. Dorking drove down the lane. "How do I top that!" he spoke out loud. "I guess I'd better put these upstairs in my desk then try to finish my breakfast..."

"Changes! Changes!" Agnes exclaimed a few weeks later as she helped wrap and pack away Bessy's good dishes. "I am going to miss you so much!" she stopped and dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose.

"There, there now! Don't start that. We'll both be crying if you do...You'll come to see us...and soon! Maybe in April..."

"I don't know. Gene has kept the farm while we went visiting, but since he's leaving...probably won't be back for six months...or more..." Agnes began to sob.

Bessy reached over and patted Agnes' arm. "That's the way things happen--but, God willing, he'll be back," Bessy dabbed at her own eyes as the tears trickled down her cheeks.

"Beyond this land of parting...I'm going to miss you and this is going to make it so much harder!" Agnes blew her nose.

"There is a new man coming to fill in the preaching. I know it doesn't take our place--quite--but the changing scenery should keep you busy."

"Yes, the scenery is changing. Your mother is coming to help after lunch?"

"Father has been a little puny this last winter. That makes it difficult to leave at this time..."

"Your youngest brother and his new wife will be taking over the farm?"

"Jim will be moving out to the farm Father and Mother bought two years ago, Avil will be moving onto the homestead, and we aren't sure where Father and Mother will be. They have talked of moving into town, but they are such farm fixtures."

"It all comes out in the wash," Agnes tried to smile through her tears.

"Yes, we will leave it in God's hands."

"I'm finished here...are you going to come see Gene off on the train tomorrow?" Agnes sighed as she finished wrapping the sugar bowl and stood up.

"Yes. We wouldn't miss it for anything! Good friends are so dear. Thank you for helping."

Agnes felt jumpy and the snow pelting on the station roof did not help her mood as she sat nervously waiting.

"Richmond, Virginia, please," Gene said as he pushed his money toward the station master, and the man slid his ticket back at him. He checked his baggage and watched as the porter stowed his trunks.

"You have everything you need?" Jed asked.

"Seem to. Here's my schedule. I should get into Chicago about 7:15 in the morning...there should be enough time between trains for me to find someplace for breakfast. Train number ten leaves Chicago-- supposed to any way...here at 10:15," he pointed. "I arrive in Washington the following morning, and Richmond that same evening."

Nissa's black patent leather shoes tapped on the board floor as she ran to Gene and threw her arms around his knees.

"I wuv oo! I miss oo!"

He stooped and picked her up, "But, Nissa, honey...I'm not even gone yet!"

"Still do!" she insisted.

"How can you be so calm. I'm a nervous wreck!" Agnes followed close behind Nissa. "I miss you too...and I know you're not gone yet!"

"Don't fret now, Aunt!" he enveloped her in a warm hug. "Don't fret. I'll be back soon enough."

"I know. We have to trust God, but like Shakespeare wrote--Good night, good night, till it be morrow; parting is such sweet sorrow. Except you can toss out the sweet part!"

"Now, Agnes, don't burden the boy," Jed admonished.

"I'm not burdening him. Just letting him know he's loved and we'll miss him," she dabbed at her tears. "You do have money for your food don't you? Will you be warm enough?"

"Yes, everything's in order. I'll have to say good bye to you double," he turned to David and grasped his hand. "You folks will be gone by the time I get back, but I have your mother's address. I'll try to drop you a line when I arrive at Walter's. You do have the Henrey's address too, don't you?"

"We'll wait for your communication before we send anything," David returned Gene's firm hand shake momentarily. "You know...these last six years, you've been closer to me than...you've been just like a brother! I love you too, and I'll miss your...your friendship, your companionship...I'll just miss you!" he threw his arms around the young man.

"While you're at it I'll take one of those!" Bessie smiled up at the two brothers in the faith.

"When did you suddenly grow so small?" Gene said looking down at her realizing his former teacher had shrunk.

"Let us bow for a prayer," David said as the group of well wishers gathered closer.

"and brother Frank if you would lead us in a hymn or two..."

The train whistle blew as the last notes of the song, "God Be With You," died away.

"Good bye! Come home soon! Take care..." they all waved and called out.

"Good bye! I will!" Gene gave last minute hugs, waved and mounted the steps. "Good bye!"

He opened the compartment door, found a seat, and slid in close to the window to wave one final time as the train began to move slowly at first then gained speed.

The compartment door opened and a rotund man in a neat suit carrying a suit case sat down in front of Gene.

"Whew!" he exclaimed. "Just barely made it in time! That was some send off. Where you off to? The name's Jerry Barlow," he turned and extended his hand.