January 2003
He
sat on the rustic hand-carved bench at the edge of the clearing, oblivious to
the snowflakes lighting softly on him, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of
his thick leather jacket, his heart thrust deep into the thick memories of his
past.
“As
long as you live here, you live by my rules.
Understand, boy?”
He
had bristled at the word “boy”, even though he was nowhere close to being a
man. It would be years before he
truly understood what it meant to be a man.
At that moment all that was going through his mind was that he didn’t
like the tone in the old man’s voice and he planned to change his tune for him
as soon as he could.
“You
want me to what?”
“You
hard of hearing, boy?”
“My
name’s Dan,” he muttered with a scowl.
The
old man grunted a response. “Well … Dan … it’s about time you earn your way
around here. Why do you think I
keep you around? For my own
amusement?”
Dan
glanced down at the tools at his feet and with an insolent glare at the old man
said, “I don’t know how.”
“What
do you know how to do … boy? What life skills did they teach you in that gang of yours?”
“I
can hotwire a car,” he replied, curling up his lip into a tough guy sneer,
like the older boys in the gang always did.
“Well,
I don’t have car,” the old man replied.
Before Dan could respond with a smart-ass comment, he added, “I don’t
live close enough to any store worth robbing, there’s nobody out here in the
woods to mug, and I won’t tolerate any drugs in our home.”
Too
resentful to key in to the implication of home, Dan shouted, “I don’t do
drugs!”
He
had delivered them from time to time when he couldn’t think of any excuse to
give Luke, but he swore he would never touch them himself.
The lessons learned from watching his stepfather and how his drug habits
had destroyed his mother’s life sank deep into his soul.
The
old man’s grunt was one of approval this time.
Dan was amazed at how much that simple sound could convey.
He’d never say so but he was impressed.
Turning
to the seemingly immeasurable pile of wood behind him, he picked up the axe at
his feet and grumbled, “What if I fu—” He stopped short when he saw his
guardian’s face darken. “—screw
this up and chop my leg off?”
“Well
then, I’ll pick your scrawny butt up off the ground and take you and your
severed limb to the hospital so they can reattach it and get you back to
work.”
Dan
snorted. It was far from a Maypenny
grunt but it was a start.
A
pair of gloved hands slid over his shoulders and down to his chest. In
a moment he felt the soft touch of her windswept curls against his cheek and the
whisper of her lips against his ear.
“What’re
you doing here?” he asked softly as he reached up to grasp her small hands in
his.
“I
came to check on you. Would you
rather be alone?”
He
shook his head. “No, but if you
wanted to come with me, why didn’t you ask before I left the farm?”
“Because
you would’ve told me you wanted to be alone,” Trixie responded in a cheeky
tone.
Dan
grunted. “Stubborn woman.
You should’ve asked. I
don’t like the idea of you walking through the woods by yourself in this
weather when you’re eight months pregnant.”
He
swept the snow off the seat beside him and gave her a gentle tug to pull her
around to the front of the bench. She
sat down next to him, snuggling up against his warm body, tucking one hand through his arm and the other into his jacket
pocket.
“I
don’t have to ask who you’re thinking about.
Anything in particular?”
“A
lot of things.” He nuzzled his
face in her hair and breathed in the soft, fruity scent of her shampoo, smiling
as a memory came back to him. “Prom night.”
“Prom
night?” she echoed in surprise.
“That’s
when I told Edwin I was in love with you. He
was the first person I told.”
It
was well after midnight when Dan found his way back to the cabin.
He whistled a romantic ballad softly and did a little dance step across
the room, unaware of the dark figure lurking in the doorway of the bedroom.
“Have
a nice time, did you, Daniel?”
Dan
stopped and turned, thankful that the darkness hid his reddening face.
He tried to act nonchalant but he couldn’t figure out how to make a
Maypenny grunt express all that he was feeling inside.
With
a sheepish grin, he muttered, “Yeah. And
if you tell my uncle, or anybody,
that you caught me sashaying around this cabin, I’ll dump salt in your
coffee.”
Mr.
Maypenny grunted in amusement. “Your secrets are safe with me, boy.”
Dan
knew they always were. Mr. Maypenny
was more than a guardian, more than a surrogate grandfather.
He was a friend and a confidant.
Those
gray eyes twinkled through the darkness as he asked, “Any other secrets
you’d like to share with me tonight?”
Dan
hesitated, not certain he was ready to disclose all that he was feeling.
But it bubbled up inside him like volcanic lava until he had to erupt or
implode from the heat. “I think
I’m in love.”
Mr.
Maypenny raised his eyebrows, looking curious but not overly surprised.
“I
think I’m in love with Trixie.”
Dan
thought he heard a soft grunt of understanding as the old man moved toward the
kitchen. “I guess I’ll make us
some coffee. This could be a long
night.”
“How
late did you two stay up talking about me?” Trixie teased.
“I
can’t tell you. Your head would
swell up bigger than your belly.” He
turned his head and kissed her cheek, tenderly caressing the bulge of her
stomach that was his son or daughter.
“I’m
glad he knew first,” she murmured.
“Yeah, me too.” He chuckled and added, “He might’ve had a little tantrum if he’d been the last to find out.”
He was remembering not only their wedding in Atlantic City, which most of their family and friends managed to find out about by the time they got married again in Sleepyside a year later—even as he and Trixie struggled in vain to keep it a secret—but Edwin’s reaction to their engagement.
Dan
put the horses up in the barn and hurried to join Trixie and Edwin in the cabin.
Even at midday the sun had to work hard to force its way through the
dense woods, and the interior of the cabin was dark and cool.
Trixie was sitting on the couch, waiting for him.
Edwin sat in his decrepit old horsehair armchair.
Dan
sat down and squeezed Trixie’s hand. “We
have some big news,” he started out, as he unconsciously twisted his
mother’s ring around Trixie’s finger. “Trixie
and I are engaged.”
There
was a moment of silence before Edwin emitted a grunt that sounded far more
indignant than joyful. “When did
this happen?”
“Last
night,” Dan answered hesitantly. He
had expected Edwin to be happy for him, but his wrinkled face held little
expression.
“And
you waited until now to tell me? I
suppose tired old Maypenny’s the last to know about it.”
Trixie
pulled free from Dan’s grasp and hurried to the older man’s side, sitting on
the arm of his chair and giving him a fierce hug.
“Of course you’re not the last to know!
Hardly anybody knows! Moms
and Dad, of course, and Regan knows, but he’s family, too.
And we came to tell you personally.
Brian, Honey, Jim, and Mart only got emails.”
Dan
smiled puckishly at his old friend. “And
if you had a computer, you old-fashioned coot, you might’ve gotten one, too. I would’ve called except that I knew your archaic rotary
dial phone was probably unplugged.”
“Daniel,”
Mr. Maypenny responded sternly. “I
don’t have any problem with Bill knowing first.
He’s blood and that’s only fitting.
And I’m proud of you for asking Peter’s permission.
That’s good, traditional chivalry.
But when that rapscallion Tad Webster knows before I do ... well ...
that’s just not right.” He hung
his head and looked deeply hurt.
Dan frowned. He never thought Mr. Maypenny would be so bent out of shape about—
“Hold
on! How did you know that Tad
already knew?”
Trixie
started giggling and buried her head girlishly against Mr. Maypenny’s
shoulder. A broad grin spread
across Edwin’s weathered face and a deep chuckle rumbled from his chest.
Dan
grunted in mock offense. “I think that was the last time I offered to take care of
the horses while you went on ahead. I
can’t believe you told him,” he grumbled, pinching her gently through her
thick parka.
“I
couldn’t help it,” she laughed. “He took one look at my face and the jig was up.”
“Why
do you think I didn’t bring you when I told him you were pregnant?”
Dan
was whistling cheerfully as he swaggered into the cabin.
His brooding teenage years were long past but he still tended toward
quietness, leaving the perky to his wife and his best friend.
At this moment, however, his poker face was no better than Trixie’s and
Edwin saw right through it.
One
gray eyebrow raised, he queried, “What’s got you in such a fine fettle this
morning, boy?”
Dan
shrugged and turned to the icebox.
It
was outdated but still modern enough to be considered a refrigerator, yet for
some reason he always thought of it as an icebox.
Hiding
his smile behind the door, he said casually, “Hot out there.
Think I’ll have some iced tea. Want
to join me?”
“What’re
we toasting?”
Dan
grunted in mild annoyance. How did Edwin know something was up?
He
straightened and peered over the top of the freezer door.
It hid his ear-to-ear grin but not, apparently, the sparkle in his dark
eyes. “What do you mean?” he
tried innocently.
Edwin
leaned back against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Boy, don’t make me order you out to the woodpile for sassing me.”
Dan
chuckled and shut the freezer door, ice tray in hand.
“I already chopped that whole pile out there for you, old man.
I’m hot and thirsty. After
I’ve had a nice, cold glass of tea I’ll do whatever else you need done
around here.”
“Don’t
change the subject. Why are you
strutting about this cabin like my banty rooster after a trip to the hen
house?”
Dan
laid the ice tray on the counter. His
smile threatening to burst off his face, he announced, “Trixie’s
pregnant.”
The
disgruntled expression disappeared. The
tired gray eyes lit up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve.
The weathered face crackled as a smile broke out.
He
held out his arms and without hesitation Dan went to him.
“He
knew how much family meant to me. I
guess because he didn’t have a family, either.”
Dan
knew Mr. Maypenny’s secret, one that had once been well known in Sleepyside
but had faded away with years and generations.
But the tragic story of the loss of Edwin’s wife and only son in
childbirth wasn’t one to share with Trixie now.
He’d save it for another day.
“That
hug reminded me of the night we all went back to the cabin after you and I
rescued Bobby from the cave. It didn’t matter that I had run away. It didn’t matter that one of my so-called friends had hurt
him.” He grunted in feigned
irritation. “It didn’t even
matter that I was a sullen teenager who would be mortified to be hugged in front
of you Belden kids. He just took me
into his arms and...” He
shrugged, unable to explain the warmth he had felt that cold February night.
“He
loved you,” Trixie murmured.
“He
wanted me.”
“What?”
“He
didn’t just take me in out of obligation or because Judge Armen ordered it.
He actually wanted me to live with him.”
Trixie
tightened her hold on his arm and said, “He was a wonderful man.”
Dan
nodded, too choked up to answer verbally.
Edwin
had seemed fine at Christmas.
He
had come out from his hermit-like shell to join the festivities at Crabapple
Farm, a twinkle in his gray eyes as he tried to cajole Trixie into naming her
daughter Edwina. He had regaled a
wide-eyed Matthew Belden with tall tale after tall tale.
He had taken second helpings of Mrs. Belden’s pumpkin pie and
Trixie’s iced sugar cookie angels.
“He
was fine,” Dan mumbled, unaware he had spoken out loud.
Trixie
leaned her head against his arm. “He
was a very old man, Dan.”
“He
never seemed old to me.”
But
he knew that wasn’t true. He had
gone out to visit Edwin more frequently this winter, helping out around the
cabin, taking care of chores that had become more and more difficult for Edwin
to perform as the cold weather made his joints ache. But Edwin had brushed off Dan’s concern over his labored
breathing and hacking cough, claiming it was “just a Christmas cold.”
And
Dan had let it go.
Less
than two weeks later, Edwin was gone.
Gone. No matter how many times he said it to himself, he couldn’t grasp its reality. No more venison stew. No more homemade cinnamon donuts. No more teasing about wood to be chopped. No more quiet talks by the fire, each of them with a cup of hot cocoa at hand and Mrs. Vanderpoel’s windmill cookies on a plate between them. No more stories about Edwin’s plentiful years and the wisdom each simple tale would impart.
“Trixie,
I’m scared,” he admitted.
“Of
what?”
“I’m
scared I’m going to be a terrible father.”
Trixie's
gasp of astonishment wasn’t unexpected. “You’re
going to be a great father,” she said adamantly.
“What kind of father will I be if I couldn’t even take care of Edwin
when he needed me? How
could I not have seen that he was really sick?”
Trixie
shifted on the bench, turning her body to face him more directly.
A stubborn glint was in her blue eyes.
“Dan, I was right there when you asked if he was okay, every time you
asked if he needed anything. Edwin
was used to being alone and fending for himself.
You know he was stubborn. He’d
fought off hundreds of winter colds. He
was just old. He went in his sleep.
Peacefully. His heart just
gave out.”
Dan
shook his head. “I’ll never
believe that. A heart like his
would never just quit.”
Trixie
cuddled closer and Dan heard a sniffle as she burrowed her face into his chest.
“My
father died when I was six and I hardly remember him.
The only male influences I had growing up were that bastard Ray and Luke
Blackburn. Uncle Bill has been more
like a brother, really. We’re
only a few years apart in age. And
Edwin never had children before he got saddled with me.”
In
a soft voice, Trixie said, “I know you tend to think of him more as a friend
or a grandfather figure but he was your father, too.
Just because he never had children doesn’t mean he didn’t know how to
be a father to you. And I know he
never considered you a burden. He
loved you and he gave you a
wonderful home.”
Dan
shook his head in gentle disagreement though he was uncertain what his objection
was to the comment.
He
had only lived with Edwin for three years before heading off to college.
He had hardly lived anywhere long enough to call it home.
It was why this house he was building for Trixie was so important to him.
He willingly showed it off to anyone who wanted to see it in progress and
had even taken Edwin out there that fall. Edwin
knew how important that house was to him, just as he had known how important
this baby was to him.
He
sighed heavily. “I hate that he
won’t be here to greet our son or daughter.”
“Me,
too,” Trixie murmured. “But I
like the idea of our child having a special guardian angel watching over him or
her.” She tilted her head up and
grinned mischievously at him. “I
think our son or daughter could use the extra protection.”
Despite
his heavy heart he couldn’t help smiling.
She made him smile. She
filled his heart with love and warmth and the promise of family and home.
Home.
Suddenly,
he understood.
Edwin
had laid the foundation that he would build upon in just a few weeks when his
son or daughter arrived in the world. Edwin
had taught him love, compassion, strength, and discipline.
He hadn’t had the chance to be a father but he had shown Dan what it
meant to be a daddy.
Everybody
had to start somewhere, become a father or mother for the very first time.
Edwin had done it well into his twilight years. Dan and Trixie were just starting out.
They
would have a house. And they would
have a home.
“Edwin
didn't just give me a home,”
It
wasn’t necessary to say anything else. She
understood. She understood because she was his home, too.
In Memory of James Holland Jr.
1936-2010
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AUTHOR'S NOTES
Chapterette 37C (2,938 words)
My apologies to my editors for self-editing this one. I literally finished it over Christmas weekend, writing by hand. I was not at work on Monday so as soon as I got home I transcribed it, paged it up Tuesday at the office using Front Page (which I'm too poor and cheap to buy for my home computer) and posted it the next day. So any mistakes (which are never their fault, anyway, since I tend to fuss and fiddle with my stories until they're actually posted...and occasionally after) are definitely not their fault this time around! This may be the closest to "deadline" that I've ever finished a story. I hope it doesn't show (wink).
Although I was working on this story well before Susan posted her "unsolved mysteries" question, the curiosity of Dan and his grunting has always interested me. I hope you like this explanation.
Header photo is from istock.com and just as a note of interest was taken by my friend Derek aka TheDman (at Istock). The first time I looked through his Istock portfolio a year or two ago and saw this picture, I knew what I wanted to use it for. Background is from Hellas Multimedia.