House of Darkness House of Light (8 page)

“Would we get the barn, too?” Nancy was fixated on the rustic structure.

“Yes, of course.” Carolyn smiled. Curiosity suddenly seemed a natural trait in all of her children.

“And the river, too?” Chris had most wanted to go wading with her daddy.

Mom laughed. “Yes, the river too…yard and barn and river and much more you haven’t even seen yet. The farm has two hundred acres of land, a pine grove, a river, a pond and an old cellar hole to explore!”

“Where’s the pond?” Andrea was anxious to explore it in her imagination.

“What’s an acre?” Chris was looking forward to mathematical calculations.

Roger fielded this question with words which could be readily understood. “You know how big the yard is, right? If you walk from the backside of the barn and then follow the stone wall down and around to the other side of the house then back up to the road again…
that
is six acres of land.” They could not yet conceive of it; could not absorb the idea of having perpetual access to so much space…land overwhelming to the senses…like imagining the size of the Universe! Their faces were flush with excitement, the promise of new life in a virtual paradise, what they perceived to be an extraordinary place…even if they could not yet think that BIG.

“And now for the
bad
news…” Listening attentively as their father spoke, the girls became as sober while searching their mother’s face for her reaction to his words of forewarning. It was only fair and they agreed to tell the truth.

“No more trips this summer; no more trips for awhile. No more dinners out or ice cream cones or shopping for clothes, except for school. No more rides at
Rocky Point
or chowder and clam cakes at the
Shore Dinner Hall
and no more boat rides to get there, either. We’ll have to sell the boat and that means we have to scrape it down and paint it first.” Reality began to settle into their young minds yet there weren’t any complaints forthcoming; what their father was saying translated into dollars and good sense. No one felt deprived. They all understood what their parents were trying to do for them. The girls were grateful, confident in the mission. They had faith in mom and dad.

“We will all have to work together.” Carolyn spoke. “Your father and I will do everything we can to buy the farm but it means we will all have to make sacrifices to have the home of our dreams. Do you understand?” One of her children took the words more literally than the others had. Nancy would soon reveal her innovative entrepreneurial spirit.

After breakfast, Carolyn phoned Mrs. Hertzog. She arrived that afternoon with the purchase and sales agreement, explaining how she would hold onto the five hundred dollar check until their closing date and could then apply it toward the down payment. The welcome pronouncement took some financial pressure off the couple in the short term but both of them knew, by signing that document, they would be literally signing their life away…life as they’d known it, anyway. In the coming weeks their initial euphoria would subside, replaced by a steadfast resolve involving the entire family. It meant sacrifices made; it meant giving up and pitching in. Everyone was expected to make an investment; no matter how small, it would prove to be significant. The girls put their heads together to develop a plan, including some ingenious ideas.

Roger literally disappeared; lending new meaning to his job description as an “on-the-road” salesman. As it turned out, he was not the only entrepreneur in the family. Several of them were enrolled in a summer activity camp at the elementary school. They took a course in arts and crafts. The house became cluttered with festive wares. Christine had a brilliant smile, platinum blond hair and deep blue eyes the size of cup saucers. Secretly knowing she was an adorable eight-year-old, Chris decided to take her show on the road, just like daddy. Gathering up all the macramé potholders she could get her hands on, she even emptied her mom’s linen drawers for good measure; taking aprons and hand towels along with
real
potholders the woman used on a daily basis. Off she went, bodyguard in tow; biggest sister. Nobody in the neighborhood was going to mess with
her
anymore! As they went door-to-door, primarily to neighbors they knew, sisters told their story about the beautiful farm their mother found and how they were all helping to buy it. In a few days, Chrissy was flush with cash…and flat out-of-stock. Of course, the next time Carolyn needed a potholder from the linen drawer she was shit out of pot-holder luck! Though the girls worked feverishly during their last weeks of summer camp, manufacturing as many items as time and materials allowed; the kids simply could not keep up with demand: a not-so-subtle message received? Perhaps.

Piggy banks overflowed into the ginger jar tucked in a corner of the kitchen counter. It was their tangible testament to a commitment made by their entire family. Carolyn was impressed by such moxie: a willingness to work beside their parents with common purpose. They too had a dream; a vision quest in mind, imagining what it would be like to live in an old country estate. Nancy had one particular vision quest: Horses! This is why she took it so seriously, bringing the profession of “door-to-door” sales into another dimension.

Late one afternoon in August Nancy approached her mother in the midst of preparing dinner. Carolyn was distracted; she did not notice that her highly motivated daughter had an ulterior motive while offering to “help” clean up food debris from the kitchen counter. Collecting all the discarded waste from ingredients required for Yankee pot roast, placing them into a brown paper bag, the nasty concoction included an assortment of onion skins, potato peels and carrot shavings, as well as other sundry items: a wide variety of wet and smelly yucky stuff from their kitchen garbage pail. With her covert mission accomplished, she disappeared. Prancing proudly up their street toward the home of her very best customer, a stained paper bag swinging in the breeze, Carolyn thought nothing more of it. She sealed the lid on the pressure cooker then settled down with a cup of coffee. The other girls were outside playing with Cathi. Assuming Nancy was with them, she was surprised as the perky little pixie flew back through the kitchen door, frantically waving a crisp new dollar bill. Big brown eyes all but hidden beneath that windblown mass of sandy blond hair, she had run home so fast, it tangled in the wind she created with friction caused by traveling at the speed of light.

“I’m back! Look what I got, mom!” The girl resembled a sunbeam bursting through a cluster of billowing clouds.

“Where’d you go, honey? Where did you get
that
?” Carolyn was delighted, for the moment.

“From Mrs. Hill!” Glowing with sweat, innocence and certain satisfaction of the sale, Nancy presented her mother with all the profits. “She paid me for bringing her our scraps…for her garden!”

“What?!” Carolyn leapt from her skin…a virtual out-of-body experience. A bit overzealous, Nancy had over-stepped in a way she did not understand.

“She said she
needed
it for the milks pile.” Nancy was glowing aloud.

“Her
mulch
pile?” Carolyn’s heart began to pound. Her face flushed. What would people think? “Honey, you
can’t
sell our
garbage
to the neighbors!”

“But she told me she
needed
them!” Nancy’s full lower lip began quivering uncontrollably. “Mrs. Hanaway bought some of it, too!” The child retrieved three more quarters from her pocket then laid them on the table as her sweet little face wrinkled up like the soiled paper bags she had just delivered to the kind-hearted women who lived at the top of the street. Carolyn sighed aloud, “Oh, my God” then quickly hugged a very resourceful daughter, praising her efforts on behalf of the family. Cathi entered the kitchen; she could not help but notice remnants of distress on a good friend’s face. A stream of siblings followed. Carolyn gently explained their situation, so as not to hurt Nancy’s feelings any further. Cathi’s hearty laughter erupted abruptly, startling them.
“
Brilliant! Pure profit! A stroke of genius! What outstanding initiative! Hire that girl!”
Nancy’s trembling lower lip curled back up into a smile. She then issued a heartfelt plea, promising never to do it again…at least not with the garbage. All was forgiven. (Carolyn would return the money later on.)

Cathi Urbonas was a friend indeed. She had known their family for several years and established an endearing relationship with Carolyn both cherished. Cathi adored the children; the sentiment was mutual. Astonished by Roger’s demure reaction to his wife’s impulsive decision to purchase the farm, it was the last response she expected. However, since everyone else was onboard, she decided to help. Practically worshipped by them, thrilled to spend time with Cathi whenever possible, she kept kids very busy. In spite of what their father predicted, the trips were
not
over. Cathi moved in for the summer. She took the girls out to parks and concerts, festivals and any other
free
event she could locate in the area. Once, she took all of them to Harvard Yard. On the way through Boston Common another Vietnam War protest was underway. No sheltering them from
that
storm, though she tried to divert rapt attention from that raucous rally. Cathi was a bona fide hippy chick, as free a spirit as they’d ever know in life. Supremely happy, spreading her joyfulness liberally throughout the land of the free, her family was equally inspiring, especially her mother, Elsie. The children frequently spent time at their lovely home in Seekonk, Massachusetts. There they learned much in her presence, instilling an appreciation for classical music and the fine arts in each one of them. The house was much like a lived-in museum; brimming with elegant antiques and fine collectibles Cathi’s mother acquired over the years, many of which she’d found displayed on someone’s lawn at a yard sale.

What remained of that summer was spent in Cathi’s company. If they were not swimming in her pool they were packing a lunch for the beach. Instructed to locate the smoothest stones, the most interesting shells in the sand, Cathi would then gather their load into a towel and bring once-buried treasure back to her house. There they’d spend hours in her mother’s artist studio painting faces onto their
pet rocks
or dipping tie-dyed tee shirts. Days passed weaving sandals or bracelets or anklets, making wind chimes from rawhide and shells, drawing
happy faces
and
peace signs
on anything they could sell within the neighborhood of people apparently eager to see them all go, based upon the number of items the girls continually sold around town. What Cathi did over those months was of immeasurable importance. It provided Carolyn freedom to take contract jobs here and there; she did some modeling and knew people in the fashion industry who kept her busy designing for them. Roger was on the road. During the month of August he spent only four days at home. When he was there, everyone hung around with him, so he put them to work. It was quite the chore to scrape and clean; to sand and paint a twenty-four-foot boat. As barnacles are hazardous, especially to tender young skin, Roger took that task on himself. His daughters observed, longing to pitch in. There would be plenty of work ahead. A chore nearing completion, no one felt left out of the process. Over the course of four Sundays the older kids learned and perfected an entire series of skills as the two youngest got their first taste of real labor. They experienced the satisfaction of a job well done. The boat was gorgeous. It had never looked so good and looked far too good to sell; then it was gone. Though they all briefly lamented the loss, the gain was becoming substantial: a down payment kept growing and growing…by some saving grace.

Back-to-school shopping was less extravagant that year. Necessity was the norm. No one complained. The girls studied hard and did their best, excitedly sharing news of an impending move with friends well before they knew for certain they were actually leaving. Roger worked incessantly. Carolyn staged the house to the extent she could. Time to put it on the market; another listing for Mrs. Hertzog, who’d remained helpful in every way she could, primarily with the paperwork involved in this complicated transaction. In preparation, Mr. Kenyon made arrangements for a survey of the land. Things were going along as well as could be expected…or unexpected! No trouble yet, but…

One Saturday morning in early September, Carolyn called Mr. Kenyon. He invited the family up to the farm for a visit. Roger was away but Cathi went along. It was on this day she realized what all of the sacrifice had been for, redoubling her personal commitment to help them acquire the farm. Another splendid day, though considerably cooler than their previous visit, this time the girls were permitted to go jump in the river! The host stood with Carolyn on the bank watching them, Cathi included, playing for an hour or so in the shallows while Carolyn quietly spoke with her gentleman friend. He seemed content, obviously enjoying the sight of his company. A peaceful expression on his face, Mr. Kenyon told her he’d wait until they were ready; no rush, no pressure…no hurry. It was the first time Carolyn suspected he did not want to leave his home. She sensed his grief; a reluctance to part with the place. A difficult decision, one likely made by necessity, due to his advanced age. She likewise sensed hopefulness in the patient man, someone reconciling a loss before it occurred; a faithful belief that
this
was the family to take his place. The bond, a genuine affection between them coupled with a determination to create a new reality from something as ethereal as desire.

All six ladies got filthy! They had come in Cathi’s car, so, if it was all right with her, Carolyn did not question the wisdom of taking the plunge. Its water was low; crayfish abundant. Stones were gathered up and stuffed in pockets. All was right with the world. Preparing to leave, Mr. Kenyon held Carolyn’s hand a bit too long…again. He loved her. Embracing him spontaneously, her impetuous outburst caused him to blush. Imagine that. No further words were spoken. None were necessary.