Salem's Daughters (6 page)

Chapter 8              The Vision

Bob drove his Ford Escape. It was more fuel efficient than Debbie’s Explorer. For no particular reason, he took US Route 131 South. They had no destination in mind for their outdoor excursion. He assumed Debbie would know it when she saw it. His job was to drive.

“Anything you need, babe?”

Debbie shook her head without turning her gaze from the rural scenery. “No. I’m enjoying the drive. The countryside is so relaxing.”

Debbie was happy soaking in the scenery and Bob wasn’t complaining. He didn’t feel like talking. There were times, they had agreed, when saying nothing was preferable to speaking. This was Debbie’s way of silently venting and releasing the bad emotions and frustrations she had been channeling since the loss of their jobs.

Ahead, a large green sign loomed over the freeway and signaled the I-96 Interchange, along with the major exits for downtown Kalamazoo. He switched highways and drove east. The time was spent in a peacefulness that can only come from an absence of conversation. Thirty minutes later they were just outside Battle Creek.

“Let’s get off here,” Debbie said as she sat up straight. “I’ve always liked the country roads and rolling hills along the Kalamazoo River. We’ll find a really nice place to have our picnic.”

Bob exited onto a two-lane road as it cut across Southern Michigan in an east-west direction toward Marshall. “Where to now?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Let’s just keep driving. Maybe we’ll stop in Marshall. I’ve always liked the town fountain. They light it up at night and play music. It’s a lot of fun. Maybe that will help cheer us up.”

Bob had to admit Debbi had the right idea. This was a perfect way on a perfect day to help forget the stress of running out of money. Lush verdant grass and trees still in full green bloom were framed by a deep blue early afternoon sky, accentuated by a few silver feathery cirrus clouds.

“I’m really enjoying this ride in the country. The weather is pleasant, unseasonably cool and lower humidity than normal for this time of year.” He turned off the air conditioning and lowered the front windows.

Debbie stared out on the picturesque landscape and sighed. “This stretch of countryside is untouched by development, strip malls, and planned communities. I hope it stays this way forever.”

Debbie was starting to perk up. The eternal optimist couldn’t stay down for long. She always saw opportunity when most people only saw gloom and doom. The area was magical, Bob thought, like an island protected from encroaching civilization and all the horrors it brought. Out here, there were no corporations with a Rotten Ronnie or Phil—the trusted family ‘friend’—to stab you in the back.

Together, they admired and appreciated the farm houses and barns. There were new fixtures mixed with the old. Names of the families who owned the properties, painted on the roofs of barns, shouted with pride to those driving by.

Debbie took a few pictures with her iPhone. “Bob, look how nice that house is. And check out the size of the front yard. It’s bigger than the block we live on.”

“We’ll be saying
used
to live next month.”

Debbie punched his shoulder. “Stop it. You have to think positive. Just follow my lead.”

Bob smirked at Debbie and relented. “Yeah, it’s big. And I know what you’re thinking. However, I don’t want to live in the country.”

“And I know what you’re thinking. Bob, it’s not like we’d be isolated. These are small farms, maybe a hundred acres or less. They’ve probably been in their family for generations. Look, I can see more houses in front and in back of us.

“It’s not like there aren’t other people around. And there are towns close by. We just left Battle Creek. Marshall is about fifteen minutes forward. I bet we could find a place for a lot less money than what our house cost. What do you think?”

Bob squirmed in his seat. “Mmm, I don’t know. What if the local kinfolk kidnap and sacrifice us to their corn gods?”

Debbie delivered a more forceful punch to Bob’s shoulder as he burst out laughing. “Work with me. Just look at all the wild flowers. Honey, it’s so beautiful out here.”

Bob was still laughing at his joke when they came upon an old abandoned burned down house and barn. He dropped his speed to take a better look.

“Wow. Would you take a look at that place? What a dump.”

Debbie craned her neck to look over Bob and through the driver’s side window. “Looks like it burned down, except for a small section of the barn and parts of the house.”

“I wonder what’s holding up the remaining section. It looks like it’ll collapse any minute.”

“I think that was the kitchen. Pull over.”

“Why?”

“I’m not sure. I feel lured to this place for some reason. And I’m hungry. We’ll spread our blanket on the front lawn. Besides, we can look at this old burned down home and be thankful that we’re not this bad off.”

His better judgment telling him to keep going, Bob felt his stomach growl and surrendered to Debbie’s idea. He pulled in the gravel driveway overgrown with tall grass, took out the blanket, and laid it in the front yard. Debbie placed the picnic basket in the center.

Bob looked at the rubble again. “Yep. It’s a real dump. But you’re right. I do feel better. And not because we don’t live here. I’m actually enjoying our time in the country.”

Debbie finished setting out the plates, homemade chicken, and various leftovers sealed in Tupperware. Bob felt a second grumble in his stomach, held Debbie’s hand, and said a rushed prayer.

“Thank you Lord for this food and bless it to our use. Thank you for taking care of us during this difficult time.” He lifted an eye to the wreckage of a house and said with a grin, “And thank you we don’t live in a dump like this. Amen.”

Debbie took a chicken breast and giggled. “This place does look pretty bad. Compared to it, we have it pretty good. I think.”

Debbie started to bite into a chicken breast, then took another look at the place. She set her food down and walked toward the foundation.

“Um, what are you doing?”

“I’m not sure. I feel a pull, like I want to investigate this place.” She stepped up and onto the concrete slab and looked around. “I hope no one died in the fire.”

“I’m sure who ever lived here got out okay,” Bob said through a mouthful of chicken.

“You know, I think I can see beyond the charred piles of wood and broken furniture. This place was pretty big.” Debbie started pacing back and forth from end to end. “This was two stories. I bet it was around five thousand square feet. At least.”

“Be careful,” Bob said. “Stay away from the structure still standing. It looks like it’s going to collapse any minute.”

He joined her and tossed his chicken bone in the rubble. Debbie gave him a look.

“What?” Bob shrugged. “This place is a dump.”

Debbie continued her self-guided tour. “I wonder if the family had children. They must have. I mean, just look at how big this must have been. There could have been as many as ten bedrooms.”

“Yeah. Maybe. After all, there’s a big barn and lots of land. Maybe they were farmers. Families had lots of kids a hundred years ago to help work the fields. My grandfather was raised on a farm. He had eleven siblings. There were two sets of twins. Granddad was one.”

Debbie balanced a smile and a shudder. “As bad as I want kids, I couldn’t imagine a family that size. I’d never leave the kitchen.”

“Except to get back to the bedroom,” Bob said with a devilish wink and a playful squeeze of her rump.

“
Bob
.” She rolled her eyes and looked skyward, shaking her head. “Men.”

Bob chuckled. It felt good to laugh. “Well now honey, a little levity didn’t hurt, did it? You know we’ll cap ours at four kids. That’s it. Then I get the ol’ snip-snip.”

Debbie went back to being mesmerized by the place. Bob thought she was almost in a trance. Then it hit him. “What are you thinking? No. Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

Debbie twirled, snapping out of her hypnotic state. “You know me all too well, lover.”

Bob took Debbie’s hand and tried to walk back toward his car. “Let’s go. We’ll find another place to finish our picnic.”

Debbie jerked back and then broke free. He was surprised at her—she had never displayed such strength.

Debbie placed her hands over her face like a camera and began to pan the rubble. “Just think about it. We can totally rebuild. I’m sure we can buy it real cheap.”

Bob looked around. “Not cheap enough. It’d have to be practically free. Rebuilding a house from this base of a condition is much more expensive than building a new house.”

“I bet it’s been like this for years. Decades. I mean, just look at this place. Obviously no one has made an offer to buy the property since it burned down, which must have been before we were born. We could come in with a really low offer and see what happens.”

Bob placed his hands on his hips and spread his feet wide as if he was blocking a charging rhinoceros. “No. Absolutely not. I strictly forbid whatever scheme you’re thinking about.”

Debbie was almost gliding between the piles of rubble. “Where do you want to put the kitchen?”

“Um, this is the kitchen. At least it was. The rusted sink and stove attest to that.” Bob stepped around a pile of wooden planks with large rusty nails sticking out at all angles.

Debbie didn’t miss a beat, floating dangerously but smoothly around the debris and painting a picture for Bob with her words, motions, and passion much like a renowned artist describing a concept yet to be painted.

She swept her right arm in a slow long arcing motion. “The grand entrance and living room are over there. Can you imagine it? I can.”

“Stop. Just please, stop, okay?”

She did not. Bob thought Debbie might be going back into a trance like state. “We could have a study or library off to the left. Then some kind of man cave for you and our future sons to the left. We’ll get the biggest wall mounted big screen you’ve ever seen.”

She gave Bob a seductive wink. Bob knew his wife was casting her web and luring him in, speaking to him in a language he could understand.

“You could watch football and basketball games here with your friends.”

Bob shook his head. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the boonies. No one would know we exist. And if they did, they’d think we were crazy and never visit.”

Bob reached again for Debbie’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Debbie continued to move in one fluid movement, as if presenting a work of priceless art to a captive audience. What a brat, Bob thought. But I love her anyway.

“Over here is the staircase to the upstairs. Do you see it?”

Bob rolled his eyes and tried to suppress a laugh as he didn’t want to humor his wife. But he couldn’t contain a hearty chuckle.

“Yeah. Okay, I see it. Just don’t ask me to walk up it.”

“We’ll have a master bedroom and Jack-and-Jill bedrooms with bathrooms for our kids. Don’t forget, we’re having four. Boy, girl, boy girl. And close together.”

Now Bob had to burst forth with laughter, while reaching for her hand. “Sure. And just where do you think we’ll get the money to support four kids, purchase this land, and build a house large enough that we won’t kill each other? Come on, let’s go. I’m starving.”

“Wait. You don’t understand. Surprise, surprise.” Debbie panned her arms wide in dramatic flair. “This is our solution.”

“What are you talking about? Our solution? We have a mountain of financial problems. And you think a dilapidated burned down house in the sticks is our saving grace? I don’t have to crunch the numbers to know they don’t add up. Did you chug down a whole bottle of wine when I wasn’t looking?”

Debbie spun round and grabbed Bob by the head, pulling him in close. Ouch! He could feel her breath and smell the spearmint from her gum.

“That’s right. This
is
our solution to all our problems.”

“Now I know I have to get you out of here. There’s a spirit of stupid upon this place. And I think it landed on you.”

“Hear me out.” Debbie started counting off on her fingers. “One, we need a house. Two, we need it cheap. Three, we need it big. Four, we need an income stream.”

“So far all I see are a lot of expenses and no revenues.”

Debbie nestled in close. “You still don’t see it, do you?” She again spread her arms wide. “We open a bed and breakfast. We’ll have the best of both worlds. A large house to raise a family. And revenue from tourists and the locals.”

Bob paused and raised his right forefinger, ready to rebuttal yet another of his wife’s farfetched ideas. But this time he couldn’t deny her. Her plan made sense.

He looked around. As if the image was telepathically implanted in his mind, he saw the decrepit, stinky, rat infested place miraculously rebuilt into a grand place.

But Bob didn’t just visualize a good idea. He saw in great detail a sprawling Royal Victorian Manor, complete with spindles and spires. The outside colors were yellow with white trim and a rust colored shingled roof.

The place was teeming with life. People were coming and leaving. Success. Money. And a place to call home. Home Sweet Home.