Chapter 10

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As they pulled onto the Gibson’s yard, Annie couldn’t help but notice the sharp contrast between this place and theirs. This was also a large, frame house on top of a hill, but it had neatly trimmed bushes and shrubs and bright, green shutters. She saw there was a wheelchair ramp leading up to one of the side doors. When she and her father started toward the house, Sonny lingered behind. “Gotta check something’ under the hood,” he mumbled. He appeared uneasy, his mouth set in that twisted, disapproving way.

Matthew knocked on the door, to which came an immediate, cheery response. “C’mon in, the door’s open!” the voice rang out. They walked in tentatively, not accustomed to such open hospitality. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Winston,” their hostess said, smiling.” “Jake should be coming right along. Have some coffee and cake.”

Genevieve Gibson was an elderly woman, probably in her late sixties, at least. She was a rather rotund lady with plump, rosy cheeks and a warm, gracious smile. Her gray hair was done up neatly in a braided bun and there was a knotted net across her forehead. She managed to fuss over her guests quite well while sitting in her chair, rolling back and forth between the table and the counter, her limp, lifeless legs dragging along.

“This is my daughter, Annie,” Matthew said as he sat down at the table. “Ah, real coffee. We’ve had nothing but instant or restaurant stuff for days.”

“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from. If we run out, we’ll just make another pot!” Ginny smiled as she cut generous pieces of a two-layer, chocolate cake.

Just then, Jake came in with Sonny in tow. “Well, hello there, neighbor!” he called grinning. “You’d better cut another piece of cake, Gin, ‘cause we can’t have this young fella go hungry in own front yard. Pull up a chair there, missy,” he said to Annie.

“We didn’t come by to impose on you even more,” Matthew said between bites of Mrs. Gibson’s cake. “I just wanted to stop by to thank you for your kindness this morning. My boys just went crazy over that homemade bread.”

“I’m glad,” Ginny replied, “but was it enough? Jake tells me you have quite a family.”

“Yes, I sure do! Ten in all. My oldest, Matthew, Jr. is twenty-two and the baby, my little girl, was born in January.”

“Well, then, you’ll have plenty of cheap help!” Jake said, laughing.

“Yes I do, if any of us can figure out what to do. None of us know anything about farming except Sonny here. I hired him to help us get started.” Sonny looked up briefly in acknowledgment of the introduction and then went back to staring at his coffee.

Matthew continued. “You see, I ran my family’s business in New York. I never cared much for it but it was an obligation. My wife’s people were farmers back in Ireland. I met her during the war when I was stationed over there. Anyway, when I got the chance to move out here, I grabbed it!”

“But how did you ever get your hands on the deed to the old Weatherly place?” Jake asked with unconcealed curiosity. “I mean, that piece of paper had been tossed around for more than forty years. Last, we heard, some guy in Chicago owned it.”

“All I know is I sat down to a friendly poker game and after I won everything else, this chap puts the deed on the table. He said it was his good luck piece, bit it wasn’t that night!”

“Well, for mercy sakes!” Ginny exclaimed.

“I’ll be!” Jake whistled. “I can’t imagine anyone thinking that place is good luck. I bet it’s been owned by at least a dozen people since old man Weatherly’s nephew died in ‘31.”

“It hasn’t been farmed since?”

“Oh, it’s been worked by different folks through the years. Ronny Williamson and his boys rented it from that fella in Chicago up to two or three years ago, I guess. See, the owner let his boy take over the house for one summer and moved in with a bunch of his doped up, hippie friends. There was trouble over there one night – one kid died from an overdose and the sheriff came and carted them all away. We had a real bad flood that next spring and we heard that the owner got into trouble with the IRS. Ronny said he didn’t need the grief so he quit farmin’ it. And it hasn’t been touched since.”

“Well, I own it now and I aim to plant this spring, come hell or high water!”

Come hell or high water? Where did her father pick up that one, Annie wondered. She loved seeing him like this, so enthused and excited. She leaned against the wall by the hot air vent of the furnace. The fan was blowing and she could feel the warm air whirling around her legs. It felt so wonderful, but there was something she wanted even more that heat – a nice, clean bathroom.

“This cake looks delicious, but I was wondering if I could freshen up a bit first.”

“Oh, for goodness sake! Where are my manners? I’m sure that old house don’t have much in the way of facilities. The bathroom is down the hall on the right.”

Annie took her time. She peeled off her jacket and washed her hands and face, embarrassed by the dark smear she left on the towel. Oh, God, she thought, I will never take a porcelain toilet for granted again as long as I live. When she came out, she was startled to see Mrs. Gibson sitting alone.

“They started talkin’ farmin’ and your dad wanted to see Jake’s setup,” Mrs. Gibson explained.

“They said to tell you they’d stop in and get ya’ when they’re ready to leave.”

Annie circled the table and studied the country kitchen with much interest. It was the most comfortable, inviting room she had ever seen. It was old-fashioned with square, paneled cabinets and faded green linoleum on the counter tops that matched the floor. Ginny sat at a wide open-hung sink, already rinsing the coffee pot and dishes.

“You have a lovely home, Mrs. Gibson,” Annie said as she inhaled the wonderful aroma of the place. It was a blend of the sweet bakery smells, coffee grounds, bacon, and buttery toast and jelly. Annie slumped down in her chair and sighed. “It’s so warm and comfortable. I can’t believe that old wreck of a house of ours will ever be like this.”

“Please, call me Ginny – us being neighbors and all.” She rolled over to the table and folded her hands as though to signal her guest her undivided attention.

“Anyway, we’re on our way into town to buy supplies. I have no idea where to begin.”

“Who did all the work back home in New York:”

“My mother – well, sort of. I never did much a all. Good grief – now I’ll have to set up an entire household?”

It sounded preposterous when she said it aloud. And when Ginny started laughing, Annie couldn’t help but laugh, too. “I guess I’ll say I want ten of everything.”

“Well, Annie, what are you shopping for? Groceries? Things for the kitchen? Gracious me, I can just imagine what that old house must look like. The cleaning alone would be such a job.” The amazement that shone in her face told Annie that she understood the enormity of the task. “Your dad mentioned this morning that you were cooking over the fireplace, like a picnic or a barbecue. But for twelve people! For land sake, lucky you’re so young. You sure got a mountain sized job ahead of you.”

“Do you like it, Ginny? Living on a farm, I mean? I’m so used to people – a lot of people everywhere. I’m not sure I’ll like living out here so far away from – you know, everything!”

“Well, I guess it just comes natural for me and Jake. He was born here, lived his whole life right here on this land. I grew up on a farm, too. I guess farmin’ is the only life we know.”

“Are those your sons?” Annie asked as she looked at the faded, silver-framed portraits of two little boys on the wall above the large cabinet across from her. The pictures were in colorless, gray tones and looked quite old. “Where are they now?”

Ginny said nothing for a few moments. Annie was struck by the sudden sadness that cast a long shadow across her face. “They’re both dead,” she said as she, too, studied the faded pictures of her two young sons. “The river took ‘em – going on near 45 years now. Ben, the oldest, helped his dad set the catfish traps lots of times and he was such a good boy. Young Carl was more rambunctious and curious about things. He’d tag along with Ben ever’ where he went. I guess Carl got into some trouble and probably fell in. Ben must have tried to save him. There bodies were found together a few miles down stream.” She turned back to the sink and rinsed another cup and saucer.

“Sometimes, I can’t help thinking’ how different things would be if the boys were still alive. Like I said, this farm has been worked by Gibson men since it was first homesteaded in 1850’s. Jake is working past his prime because he just don’t know what else to do.” She patted her limp, useless legs. “Not only does Jake have to tend the farm but he has to take care of me and do a lot of housework.”

“What happened – I mean, was there an accident, or --”

“No, just old rheumatis’ I guess. Came on me the summer of ‘52. I was scared it was maybe polio or something, but it wasn't. They don’t hurt much, but they just don’t move. I just thank my lucky stars that my arms and hands still work good. As long as Jake sets down everything I need before he goes outside in the morning, I can still manage to cook and bake. Jake thinks I’m a good cook, but that’s just because he’s used to it.”

“Oh, no Ginny. This cake is marvelous! Do you think you could teach me how to bake things like this? I mean, you said yourself – I’ve got a lot to learn!”

“I’d be glad to help in anyway I can,” Ginny exclaimed. There was such sincerity in the voice that Annie knew she had found the perfect resource person. She had a million questions but just then her father called that they were ready to leave.

“It was so nice to sit and talk. Thank you so much for your help and your wonderful bathroom, and all that great food earlier this morning,” she said as she put on her jacket.

“Well, like I said, what are neighbors for? You can come back and we’ll talk some more. When you get to town, go to Bean’s Hardware Store. Lori Bean works in there and she can help you a lot, I’m sure. Now take care,” she called after her young visitor. “Come back to visit anytime – even it its just to use the bathroom!”

Actually, Annie felt a lot better. Ginny’s words “picnic or barbecue” stuck in her mind, as she thought that was a good place to start. She’d just have to remember what kinds of goodies Cook packed in those giant hampers when the family went to the park or shore. And there were things she needed for the baby, and cleaning supplies, like Ginny said. Lists. The secret to managing all this was lists

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Unfortunately, the ride to town took less than ten minutes, no time to write down anything. She had several nicely labeled sheets for all the categories she could think of, but not much else. She took a long deep breath, trying not to feel so panicked again.

The bus rolled to a stop alongside the river front park they had seen yesterday. The two or three blocks of businesses were along this one street facing the river.

“If we’re gonna do any shopping,” Matthew said, “I’d better stop by the bank first.” He reached under one of the seats and pulled out a canvas bag full of cash and checks. Swinging the bag under his arm as he stepped off the bus, Matthew surveyed the little corner bank and smiled. “I think I’m just about to make somebody’s day,” he said.

He stepped inside and approached a barred teller window and addressed the bespectacled, gray-haired lady behind the counter. “Hello, I’m Matthew MacAlister Winston. My family just moved to a farm outside of town. I’d like to set up an account here. Do you suppose I could speak to your manager?”

The teller seemed a little miffed. “Mr. Winston, I’m sure that I can help you set up an account. If you deposit $200, you’ll get a box of free checks, you know. Mr. Strong is also the mayor of our little town. He is a very busy man.”

“I’m sure he is, but this is quite a substantial amount of money so I’d really like to meet the man and deal with him directly, at least the first time.”

“A substantial amount? Just how much are we discussing here, Mr. Winston?”

“Well,” Matthew answered evenly, “I have $40,000 in cash and several cashier’s checks.” He couldn’t help but smile when spilled coffee ran across the counter and the lady’s glasses nearly fell off when she jerked her head up.

Obviously determined to keep her composure, she casually wiped up the coffee and readjusted her glasses, saying, “I’m sure Mr. Strong would like to meet you and welcome you to our town. I’ll see if he can free some time to see you.”

As she spoke she was back peddling toward the door with the imposing sign which read, “Mr. Lewis J. Strong, Bank President” in bold letters. She excused herself and stepped inside. A few seconds later Matthew heard this rather loud “What?” blasting from Mr. Strong’s office. The teller reappeared, announcing, “Mr. Strong will see you now.”

The honorable Mayor Strong rose from his chair to shake Matthew’s hand, smiling broadly. They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes while Matthew unceremoniously unzipped his bag and began piling his money on the bank president’s desk.

“I’m anxious to begin doing his business locally and thought the best way to handle it was with checks,” Matthew said.

“Well, of course,” Mr. Strong stammered, distracted by the rather impressive stack of $1000 bills. Matthew then took out the cashier’s checks. Mr. Strong was at a loss for words, something local folks would say was highly unusual.

He picked up one of the checks and scrutinized it carefully. “In order to protect my investors,” he said, wanting to appear professional and business-like, “I think I should call New York and verify these funds. No offense intended.”

“None taken. Go ahead. Call. Ask to speak to Bill Kaplan, one of the Vice-presidents at First City. The phone number is 789-5515 – that’s 212 area code, you know.”

Lewis Strong dialed the number. “Yes, hello…Yes, ma’am, this is Lewis Strong, President of the Shannontown Bank and Trust. I am calling about a manner concerning Mr. Matthew Winston…Yes, Matt Winston…Oh, I see. . . Really. . . No, that’s quite all right. I won’t be leaving a message…You’ve been very helpful.” He hung up the phone. “Now, Mr. Winston, what kind of an account would you like to set up with us today?”

Fifteen minutes later, Matthew emerged from the Shannontown Bank and Trust, complete with his box of free checks. “C’mon, you two. Let’s go spend some money!”

They walked to the hardware store. The faded sign read, “Andy Bean & Sons, Hardware and Lumber Yard.” There was a truck sitting at the curb with the same sign stenciled on the door but it also had a hand-written “For Sale” sign taped to the window. The place looked badly in need of repairs, considering the nature of their business.

Through the open gate they could see someone walking among the piles of boards, posts and plywood stacked in the decaying lumberyard. Matthew and Sonny headed out to the yard, which meant they expected Annie to go in and start shopping. By myself, she thought. What did she know about buying hard ware. And the place looked so small.

The instant she stepped in she realized there was no need to worry about the amount or variety of merchandise in this place. She had never seen anything like it! Every square inch of available space was covered. There were narrow aisles between shelves piled high with everything from tools to little ceramic knickknacks and music boxes. On the walls hung pots and pans, large basins and tubs, and clothes hampers. There were displays of everything from light fixtures and lamps to bikes and tricycles.

There was a young slender woman standing on a ladder sorting through some pots and pans on a high shelf in the corner. She was scolding someone, and Annie could hear a child crying. “Kevin!” she cried. “Why do you pick on your sister like that all the time? Now leave her alone!” Her voice was strained and she appeared upset.

Then she became aware of Annie standing nearby. She apologized as she descended the ladder and picked up the whimpering child. Annie saw that the woman’s face looked tired and worn, and her eyes were red and swollen. “Can I help you with something?” she asked, forcing a smile.

“Yes,” said Annie hesitantly. “Are you Lori Bean? You are? Well, my neighbor, Ginny Gibson, said you could help me.”

“She did? Well, that was nice of her. I’ll certainly try,” Lori said, looking somewhat confused. “We carry a little of everything here. What are you looking’ for?”

“That’s what I need – a little bit of everything. I’m Ann Winston. My family is moving into the old Weatherly place. Yes, I know, it’s not fit to live in, but my father is very determined. He’s outside right now speaking with your husband. We need so many things. You see, there’s 12 of us.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Lori murmured, letting the child slide off her hip. “So you’ve come in to buy supplies? Where would you like to start?”

“Well, I guess cleaning supplies.”

“Like mops, brooms, er-- buckets and things? All that stuff is over here. How about soap and cleansers?” Not wishing to appear totally ignorant, Annie smiled and nodded agreeably to everything. Before long, there were piles of supplies on and around the counter.

At one point, Lori stopped and looked Annie straight in the eye. “I feel I must tell you something,” she said. “There is a K-Mart in Dubuque. Stuff is a lot cheaper there.”

“No, no,” Annie said as she studied a package of kitchen utensils. “I appreciate your honesty, but I see no reason to drive all that way when we can buy everything here.”

Outside, Matthew and Sonny approached the man working in the yard. “Are you Charlie Bean?” Matthew called to him. “Mr. Lewis Strong sent me.”

The man’s face turned ashen. “Yes sir, I am. Can I help you with something?”

“Well yes, I believe you can. I’m Matthew Winston. And this is my hired hand, Sonny Jackson. I recently acquired the Weatherly farm. Guess you know the place, judging by your reaction. Anyway, I need to get the place habitable as soon as possible. And Mr. Strong mentioned you were quite capable of helping us with renovations.”

Charlie instantly relaxed. “Jeez, I thought you were bill collectors or IRS. Anyway, I can sure do all that stuff for ya’. But it’s only fair to tell ya’ that there’s bigger outfits in Dubuque that’d probably have everything in stock. I mean, I’ll have to go there myself to get a lot of the supplies.”

“Sure, I realize that, Charlie.” Matthew sat down on a pile of 2x4’s and lit a cigarette. “No, I’d rather deal with you than some outfit twenty miles away. I’ll pay you to handle all that. Of course, it will require a lot of your time for the next few weeks, if you can manage the time away from the store.”

Charlie looked away and grinned sheepishly like Matthew had just told a funny joke. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Mr. Winston. I’d be tickled t’death to sink my teeth into a real back-breakin’ job. You came along at the right time.”

“Well, good!” Matthew said, also smiling broadly. “Mr. Strong certainly gave you an excellent recommendation. But frankly, you’re a little younger than I expected.”

“Well, my granddad worked his whole life in this here store and my daddy after that. He died real sudden like a couple of years ago and left the place to Mama and us boys. She’s too old to run the place and my brothers all went other places. So that leaves me to try to keep this place goin’.” He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“OK, then. It’s settled,” Matthew said, standing up and reaching for his wallet. “Here’s five hundred dollars cash so you know I’m serious about this. I just need a house that’s safe and decent for my family.” They started walking toward the store. “How soon can you start? If you’re not doing anything this afternoon, you could come out and look the place over. You should see it,” he said, shaking his head. “I would even know where to begin.”

Sonny left Matthew and Charlie behind to talk about furnaces and ductwork and took his own list inside the store. He walked in to find Annie and Lori chatting away about everything from potato peelers to diaper rash. When Lori started to ask him if he needed help, Annie explained who he was.

“Ain’t real friendly, is he,” observed Lori.

“No, he’s not,” Annie said, nearly whispering, “But believe me, he’s helping us a lot. Without him, we couldn’t make it. Anyway, where were we? Oh, yes, about those canisters up there.” She was pointing to a display of old-fashioned crock canisters, nearly hidden on a high shelf. “Ginny Gibson has some just like those in her kitchen and I’d like some, too.”

“OK, I’d be glad to fetch ‘em down but they’re heavy suckers. Tupperware makes some real nice ones – come in three different colors.” She placed the ladder into position. “Tupperware?” she said again noticing her customer’s blank expression. “You know, hard plastic storage containers and stuff. It’s indestructible. Can’t it buy in stores – gotta buy it at parties in people’s houses. You know – Tupperware parties? Well,” she murmured to herself. “I didn’t think there was anyone in the civilized world that didn’t know about Tupperware.”

By the time Charlie and Matthew came in, Lori was standing behind her antiquated cash register, tallying the total. “That’s $324.73, sir,” Lori winced, appearing almost apologetic, but Matthew’s expression remained unchanged and unperturbed.

“There you are, Mrs. Bean. It was a real pleasure doing business with you. The first of many, I’m sure.”

After everything was loaded, Charlie hoisted his boy onto his shoulders and Lori swung the little girl across her hip. The little family escorted the Winston’s out to the bus.

“Okay, Charlie, we’ll expect you after lunch, right? Oh, I guess you won’t be needing this.” Matthew reached inside the truck and ripped off the “For Sale” sign. Everyone laughed.

The next stop was the grocery store. Annie intended to have some lists for here also, but the page was blank. There was no need to worry. Sonny went up and down the aisles, grabbing whole arm loads of everything.

Matthew was dispatched to the Grill and Pup to order twenty hamburgers, shakes, and a bag full of fries. He chuckled at the now familiar reaction of the waitress and nearby spectators when he explained who he was, where he intended to live, and why he needed such a large quantity of food. After he ordered, he went into the adjoining bar.

The smiling, round-faced bartender introduced himself as the proprietor of the place, Billy O’Rielly. Since any stranger is apt to be noticed, Matthew was asked to recount his story one more time, but this time over a glass of foaming draft beer. Billy listened attentively but instead of looking at Matthew with the usual shocked and amazed stare, he just stood there and shook his head sadly. “Well, what the hell took ya’ so long? Should have come to your senses a long time ago,” he said with mocked solemnity and then broke out in uproarious laughter as his great red cheeks became even redder.

An half-hour later, Sonny pulled the bus to the curb in front of the store and instructed Annie to fetch him out. She found her father sitting at the bar talking with Billy as though they were life long friends. “C‘mon, Dad,” Annie said. “We‘d better get back. Those boys have been alone out there for quite awhile.

Matthew slapped some money on the bar. “Billy, I intend to be one of your best customers.”

“Good,” laughed Billy, “cause I got a lot of regular customers, but they ain’t all paying ones.” He waved good-bye with his bar towel.

Matthew chattered happily all the way home. “Everyone we met today were really nice, weren’t they?” he said. “I’m going to enjoy spending my money here.”

Sonny said nothing as he put the motor in gear and headed out of town, trying to maneuver the bus down the spongy roads. Annie wasn’t listening to father either. She found herself staring at her hands. They were soft and manicured. No wonder Lori Bean suggested several pairs of Playtex gloves. Ginny and Lori’s were worn and callused. Is that what it takes for a woman to survive out here? Could I ever be like them, she wondered. Do I want to be? Yes, she thought, somewhat dubiously. She recognized the strengths and earthy wisdom in these women and yearned to have those qualities herself. She also realized that wishing for something is a lot different than actually having it.

Chapter 11
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