Halversham (3 page)

Sun rays streamed in through the window and warmed Andy’s stockinged toes the next morning. He had fallen asleep in his clothes last night, and woke up with puffy eyes and tousled hair. He rose and stared at himself in the full-length mirror before pausing at the window to listen to chirping robins and wrens. The sky was a brilliant blue, with only a smattering of frothy clouds passim.

A minute later, he headed to the bathroom for a long bath, then dressed in a polo shirt and Bermuda shorts. The last thing he needed was to stay at the farmhouse and wallow in self-pity, so he made plans to walk around Halversham and revisit his mother’s favorite places.

Piffy was carrying a pot of coffee to the table when he stepped into the dining room. It wasn’t a large room, and much like Aunt Magda’s, the kitchen was right next to it. His mother had wanted it that way so it was easier to serve guests. Plus, it was cozy.

The older woman smiled as soon as she saw Andy. “Good morning, Andy. How are you feeling today?”

“Adventurous.” Andy smiled. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Did you sleep well?” she asked, pouring him a cup of coffee. There was toast, peanut butter, and a variety of jams on the table.

“Yes, I did,” Andy said. “Piffy, would do me a favor, please?” He picked up a piece of toast and spread peanut butter on it.

“What is it?”

“I plan to visit some of the places my mom used to take me to in Halversham and I won’t be back until late. Can you pack me some sandwiches for lunch?”

“Sure. That’s a great idea.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking a seat and munching on his toast. Piffy hurried back to the kitchen and busied herself.

Patricia’s herb garden glowed outside the dining room windows, beckoning Andy. He pushed the final piece of toast into his mouth, gulped down his coffee, and opened the back door. He had half expected the basil, lavender, and parsley his mother had planted a long time ago replaced by some other  plants, but he was pleasantly surprised. The familiar herbs were still there, flourishing under the warm summer sun. Mort was crouching on the ground, tugging on some weed around a patch of coriander.

“Hello, Mort,” Andy called out to the gardener and longtime family friend. Patricia used to enjoy working with Mort on getting the kitchen garden planted with a variety of herbs. And in that time, Mort had proved to be an invaluable fountain of knowledge and friend.

“Andy? Is that you?” Mort glanced up with narrowed eyes and raised his hand to shield the glare of the sun.

The sixty-year-old gardener wore a pair of suspenders to keep his pants up, and the cuffs of his shirtsleeves and pants were rolled up to reveal a pair of gloves and black galoshes.

“It is me, Mort. How are you?”

Mort rose in a hurry and removed his gloves. He hadn’t changed one bit since Andy last saw him. Although wrinkled, the tall, wiry man still looked strong and capable. Cottony white hair grew unruly around the sides of his otherwise bald head, reminding Andy of Doc Brown from the movie
Back to the Future
. A smile broke on his lips and Andy wiggled his eyebrows at his dear old friend.

“I am fine, my boy.” He took a brisk step toward Andy and hugged him, almost lifting him off the ground. “Oh, what a big man you are now, looking just like your father,” he said with wide smiling eyes.

Andy smiled, so pleased the old man hadn’t changed. “You look good too, Mort. I’ve missed you. And Halversham,” he said.

Mort’s eyes suddenly wilted and his lips curved downward. “I heard about Patricia. I am so sorry,” he said, placing a hand on Andy’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Mort.”

“Well, some things just happen and it is not for us to ask why. All we can do is move forward and live the best we can with what we have.” His eyebrows lifted in two bushy arcs. “How’s your old man?

“He’s fine.”

“Is he here?”

“No. He had to fly to San Francisco this morning.”

“Always a busy man.”

“Yeah, well.” Andy didn’t quite know what to say so he averted his eyes, but the old gardener noticed it.

“Doesn't matter, my boy. Plenty of things to do here.” Mort grinned. “What’s your plan while you’re in town?”

“Well, today I’m planning on taking the trail my mom used to take. I want to walk by the river and feed the dogs at the foothill. See how Halversham’s changed.”

“Oh, you’ll be surprised. Things
have
changed. Strange things have been happening in the garden as well,” Mort said in a conspiratorial voice, leaning close to Andy.

“What do you mean?”

“Andy!” Piffy’s voice exploded from the back door. Both Andy and Mort turned toward Piffy, who was standing with her hands on the door frame. “Your father’s on the phone.”

Andy patted his pockets and remembered he had left his iPhone on the dining table. He dashed in and picked up the landline.

“Dad?”

“Son? Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“I was out in the garden talking to Mort. I left my phone on the table.”

“I see. I almost called your Aunt Magda’s neighbors, and you know how much I hate bothering them. I wish she’d let me buy her a phone. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I’m on my way to the airport.”

“Oookay.” Andy dragged out the word.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s Mort?”

“He’s fine.”

“Good. Did you have breakfast?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Alright. I’m almost at the airport. Try to have some fun while you’re there. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Bye.”

Andy hung up and lifted an eyebrow at the phone. The call had seemed contrived, but then, his father had hardly ever called him before. At least not for something as trivial as to say he was on his way to the airport.

Piffy stepped into the living room with a brown paper bag. “Here’s your lunch, Andy. I also included some salad, apples, cheese, and crackers in case you decide to stay out a little longer.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you later.”

Andy went to his room, picked up his backpack, and put the lunch bag inside. He tucked a water bottle into the side pocket and made his way to the dining room again. He checked the five missed calls from his father, then slipped the phone in his pocket before heading out.

His first stop was the biggest convenience store in Halversham, Dorrie’s. He took two steps at a time to get to the third-floor pet section and walked past aisles displaying cat food, dog bowls, leashes, cages, and colorful toys. Finally, Andy found Wenley’s brand of rawhide and dog treats and grabbed a few packets. It was still early, and the cashier lanes downstairs only had a few shoppers queueing. One of the lanes was free, so Andy walked over and placed his items on the counter.

“Hey—you’re Crazy Corrine’s cousin Andy, right?” the cashier asked, jerking Andy’s eyes up to face him.

Andy tried to remember the smiling face in front of him; he looked about twenty and certainly familiar, but no one specific came to mind. “Yeah,” Andy said tentatively a few seconds later.

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

Andy blushed and smiled. “No.”

“I’m Chuck Navasky, Colin’s brother.” Andy thought hard to place the names, but drew a blank again. “Corrine pierced a fish hook through my brother’s fingernail years ago. Remember?”

“Oh, yeah. I remember. I’m sorry about that.”

“No worries. He’s fine,” Chuck said, scanning Andy’s dog treats. “You look like your dad.”

“Yeah.” Andy smiled. “I get that a lot.”

“Your mom’s not here today?”

Andy averted his eyes and hesitated. “She… she died two days ago. Cancer.”

Chuck paused his scanning and licked his lips. “I’m sorry, man.”

“That’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Why are you here?”

“Just hanging out.” Andy shrugged.

“How long?”

“A month.”

“That’s a long time,” Chuck said, rounding up the total. “Twenty-seven-twenty,” he said, looking at the cash register. Andy pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “Look, I know you’re from a rich family and stuff and you probably don’t need the money, but old man Milton up the hill needs some help around the house. His daughter from the city asked my ma if I could help out but I work here now. So if you’d like a job to kill time or whatever, just let me know and I’ll hook you up. I know how boring this town can be.” He chuckled.

“Oh. That’s cool. I’ll think about it,” Andy said, handing Chuck a fifty-dollar bill. Chuck took it and gave him the change while he picked up his bagged goods. “Thanks. I'll see you around.”

Outside, Andy rested his backpack on one knee, unzipped it, and stuffed in the plastic bag from Dorrie’s before glancing down the length of Halversham’s main street. Rows and rows of shops stood on either side of the street, advertising flowers, watches, a small motel, a gas station, a few diners, and other retailers typical of a small town. At one end stood Halversham’s train station, its tracks running across the main street. A steel-grey train stood waiting on one of the tracks. It was one of the smallest stations Andy had ever seen. At the other end of the street were rolling hills and a river that snaked through verdant pastures. Andy slipped on his backpack and turned left toward the hills.

The main street was one long stretch of straight road, branching out to many smaller dirt roads and footpaths that led to farmlands and cottages along the way. Andy and his mother used to walk this street every morning when they visited. Though the sun was out, summer was always milder and more pleasant here. He breathed in the still morning air and sucked in the sweet smell of hay, which used to make his mother deliriously happy.

Andy had walked for about a mile when the street tapered to a narrow road. Further up, Mr. Finney’s farm marked the official boundary of Halversham just after St. Anthony’s Chapel. To his left and right were green pastures dotted by tiny yellow flowers. He feasted his senses on the smell of cheese and the sound of cow bells clanging, both of them almost non-existent in the city. After three long years, he wasn’t sure of the routes, so he turned left and let the sounds of gurgling water guide his way. A few minutes later, he was standing in front of a wide river about three feet deep. Dark river rocks poked through the stream of clear blue water and a perfectly arced wooden bridge stood on his right, his mother’s favorite spot in Halversham.

Andy paused to look at his watch. It was ten to twelve. He pulled the water bottle from his backpack, took a long drink, and looked around. The place was just the way he remembered. He and his mother used to spend hours on this trail, often pausing to look at an ant or a butterfly and to sidestep pretty ferns growing on the path. Once or twice he had heard her cooing to robins or taking pictures of fungi on decaying tree stumps. Andy continued walking after slipping the water bottle back into his pack. There used to be an abandoned hut by the river two miles up, which served as a marker for them to turn around and head back. As far as Andy knew, nobody went into the dense forest beyond the hut.

Forty minutes later, Andy dropped his backpack on the moist ground and sat by the river to eat. Although badly in need of repair and most definitely uninhabitable, the hut still stood in the exact same spot. He unzipped his bag and took out Piffy’s lunch bag, thinking he’d have salad, sandwich, and some juice while listening to water gurgling in the river. He used to picnic here with his mother from time to time, and she would tell him stories of her childhood and how she met his father. Those were the good old days, and Andy vowed to always remember the simple pleasures of a modest life despite his father’s obvious wealth.

After lunch, he headed back to the wooden bridge and passed through the same ferns and aspens that decorated the route. He crossed the bridge and smiled at trout jumping from the stream below. It wasn’t the most exotic experience, but it was enough to excite him, along with the fact that he was fast approaching the foothill.

Andy’s mother loved two things most in Halversham: first, her long, quiet walks along the river, and second, feeding stray dogs. Although Andy enjoyed the quiet walks immensely, he liked feeding the strays more. They were such joyful, faultless creatures, it was impossible not to feel connected to them. He had never had a dog for a pet before, but he’d seen enough people walking theirs in the city. So when his mother took him to feed the strays in Halversham for the first time seven years ago, he was beyond excited.

He cut through a green field and saw Mr. Milton’s place, the only house on the crest of the hill. A long stretch of steps leading up to the house was carved into the side of the hill and reinforced with tree roots. The property used to be open, but now it was fenced. Andy trudged to the foot of the hill where his mother used to call out to the strays and paused to drink some water. The sun was directly above his head now, but it wasn’t scorching. In fact, it warmed his skin pleasantly against the cool breeze. Andy lay on the grass next to a birch tree and linked his fingers behind his head to watch cottony white clouds shift across the blue sky. He tried to see shapes and make stories out of them, but it wasn’t as much fun without his mother.