House of Darkness House of Light (5 page)

“You bought
what
?!”

“The farm!” Carolyn’s enthusiasm was almost contagious. Almost.

“With
what
!” Cathi’s incredulous expression said the words well before her lips could form or utter them aloud. “You
bought
the farm
…
or you will!
when your husband gets home! You, my dear will
pay
for this!” Her sardonic sense of humor was lost on Carolyn that hot afternoon. Instead, she chose to take these phrases literally, ignoring the intended intimation.

“I put money down on the place.”

“How much?” Cathi felt her stomach twist…
knot
such a good sensation.

“Five hundred. Earnest money: a good faith payment to hold the property.”

“Five hundred…
dollars
!”

“All we had…well, not
all
; there’s enough left to buy milk and bread!”

“Oh, my God…” Cathi’s voice seeped out of Carolyn’s consciousness. It seemed to trail off into the distance as the ecstatic woman allowed herself the freedom to project into the future, to imagine her family in such a remarkable place. Cathi jolted her back to reality. “Listen to me!” Still somewhere else, lost on a fine piece of property in Harrisville…Cathi persisted. “Carolyn!”

“What! I know…I know…he’ll love it! We’ll find a way…we will!”

“You
hope
so.” To which Carolyn promptly responded, “I
know
so.”

The children were all playing outside. Carolyn decided not to say anything yet. Cathi concurred, suggesting she return in a few days to take them all out for ice cream after Roger’s arrival home; aware Carolyn would require some private time to discuss this matter with her husband. They concocted a plan. She would call Cathi to come get the girls as soon as he pulled into the yard. While watching kids taking turns on the swing set, staring through dozens of prisms provided by rays of sunlight intersecting water spots splattered on the kitchen window, Carolyn described in full detail where she’d gone and what she had seen on that fateful summer day. Pure delight sparkled in bright eyes; the incredible Lightness of being Carolyn. A broad smile had graced her lips while speaking of its endless walls constructed of stone, rooms which echoed with a whisper; an apple tree gnarled by age and Nature’s relentless assaults. Enraptured, the woman seemed all but transported back to the place she had just returned from; a magical, mysterious place on Earth where a barn could survive a ferocious storm by dancing with the wind.

It was love. Carolyn had fallen deeply in love. It is said that love is blind.

Cathi left the house that evening repeating a promise to return
after Roger’s scheduled arrival. She was as torn as Carolyn had been prior to writing the check. It was a leap of faith, to be sure, but also a serious lapse in judgment. Her downright sensible friend made a unilateral decision which was going to affect her entire family. It was at best, disrespectful of Roger and his position on the matter. At worst, it meant a loss the family could not afford to sustain. Five hundred dollars: a great deal of money; their hedge against a disaster. It became, with the drafting of the single check, the potential root of another; a foundation for upheaval. Cathi had reason to be worried. She traveled along considering the leap and lapse of it all. The impetuous act, so out of character for the mother who would do anything to protect and defend her family, may have placed them all in jeopardy. She likewise considered this was precisely what her friend was attempting to do; protect her young with an effort made to remove them from the place she believed to be unsafe. Carolyn had done something radical. In time and space perhaps it would prove to be as brilliant as any gathering cluster of stars in the firmament. Time would tell the tale.

“I believe in God, only I spell it Nature.”

Frank Lloyd Wright

 
let there be light

“Hope, like the gleaming taper’s light, / Adorns and cheers our way;

/ And still, as darker grows the night, / Emits a brighter ray.”

Oliver Goldsmith

Roger was not a bit pleased; his grimace as proof. Neither was he intrigued by his wife’s vivid descriptions of this property; his main concern revolving around devising a means of retrieving a check. Carolyn remained unscathed by his objections, her position firmly held: steadfast…resolute, insisting this place was the real estate deal of a lifetime. Roger was purely a businessman. If his wife could convince him of its worth, the intrinsic value of this estate, he might become far more amenable to an otherwise outrageous proposition. Persistently on point, entirely unyielding, her husband relented. He agreed to a tour, though he made no promises during their tenuous negotiations.

A discussion not yet concluded, Roger pressed Carolyn on the issue of her unilateral decision, one made without regard; without his knowledge, opinion or consent. She did not plead her case nor apologize, however she refrained from reminding him of numerous times he’d done the same, expecting her to understand his motivations. What she had done was provocative enough; no need to be defensive. Carolyn simply stated, when she saw the ad it sparked her curiosity so she acted immediately, never imagining one call would result in what she had discovered; something rare and exceptional. His wife made it clear, despite objections, she was determined to begin the process of finding a more suitable home for the children; reassuring him she was as shocked as he was when that search met its end with one single viewing on a single day. There wasn’t any way to reach him out on the road and he did not dare refute the claim, having neglected to call home during the trip. Once she’d seen the farm, unwilling to risk losing it to a delay or indecision, she acted; what she considered to be her responsibility: do the right thing on behalf of her family. The funds in their joint bank account were just as much hers as his, as far as she was concerned. In his noted absence, as his equal partner in a marriage, permission should be implicit; not required. She did what she did for all of them. This he seemed to understand.

Many months would pass before Mrs. Hertzog could finally reveal the truth of their situation. Carolyn’s call had been the one and
only
inquiry she’d ever received on the listing. It had come on the first day the farm was advertised. Nobody else seemed to want a place in the country. It was as if the Universe had reserved it for her. There had been no risk of losing the farm; none at all.

The next morning everyone piled into the family car, a Bonneville with no room to spare once all were present and accounted for; off they went for a
ride. Carolyn had deliberately tempered an enthusiasm, never divulging their destination. When they arrived at the farm, Mr. Kenyon was working beside the barn. Carolyn then noticed his height for the first time, towering over her husband as they shook hands. He was a thin, lanky man with deep grooves etched into his face, as pronounced as the ruts in an old wagon road they had walked together a few days before. His watery, pale blue eyes seemed to smile. Delighted by their arrival, Mr. Kenyon warmly welcomed his guests, even though no formal appointment had been made through the realtor. He knew precisely why they had come and could not have been more pleased with the company he kept on a day he thought was destined for solitude.

Instinctively focusing all his attention on Roger, the gentleman realized the significance of this man’s presence and the necessity to impress him. Carolyn appreciated an effort being made for her husband, though he’d taken time to interact with the ladies, too. Excusing himself for a moment, he slipped into the house, returning with pockets full of candy. Generously dispersing these sweets, Mr. Kenyon was quite enchanted with their children. Complimenting good manners, he’d included the parents for the job well done. Then without any parental consent requested, suggesting children need freedom, Mr. Kenyon made his own unilateral decision. Releasing the girls to their greatest good, providing unfettered access to his property, he suddenly said: “Go and play!” As explorers in uncharted territory, they all bolted…no compass required; no directions given or necessary. They could
feel
their way around, by instinct.

Carolyn was mortified. She knew a wild child lurked in the heart of each of these urchins. A glance instructed her eldest to maintain a head count at all times. It was understood but it was also impossible. Carolyn reminded all of them to remain within the confines of the yard, inside stone walls, but it was more than six acres of land. Andrea did her best for the first few minutes but such freedom is enticing to youngsters; they scattered like thieves in a crowd of tourists. The polite little girls instantly transformed into raucous banshees. Before long they were swinging from the rafters of a barn, scaling the apple tree, climbing up into the loft of a woodshed and pretending stone walls were balance beams built exclusively for their amusement. Unleashed into such an unfamiliar setting, the girls seemed so agile and able to navigate it with ease. It was strangely familiar to them. As for Andrea the scenario quickly evolved into chaos; quite beyond her ability to control this beautiful but foreign land or those making mischief in it. She chose instead to join her siblings in folly.

As Mr. Kenyon stood beside the young couple, on the hill overlooking the opulent grounds a subtle yet discernible pride snuck in, tucking itself into the corners of his wry little grin. He was so pleased; certain he’d found the right family for this old house. Carolyn gently nudged her husband, prompting his notice of the perfect garden spot. The adults listened as sounds of laughter, a distant music, wafted throughout the valley; a joyful noise evoking echoes of their past. Revisiting their childhoods during those moments, each listened in reverence. His contemplative expression, one of placid repose, betrayed Mr. Kenyon’s journey through memories which lingered with him for a lifetime. Back he went to a simpler life: back-in-time travel.

Cordial, eager to entice his prospective buyers, Mr. Kenyon asked Roger if he and Carolyn would enjoy a walk down to the river. They quickly accepted the invitation. Pressed for time, Carolyn had not gone during her initial visit, though Mr. Kenyon had graciously offered to take her there. As if what they had already seen wasn’t paradise enough, a soft-spoken gentleman promised his welcomed guests a virtual oasis, respite from sultry summer heat, some shade from a brutal Sun only a few hundred yards away. A whistle from dad called the clan. They all knew a clarion call to assemble the troops and from which direction the familiar signal had come. Fall in! Roger took the plunge.

It was a lovely stroll down to the Nipmuc River. There had been abundant rainfall that year, producing the thick, bountiful grass which cushioned every step of the lush lawn sprawled along three gently sloping tiers. Roger paused on top of its second plateau, turning to reexamine the place from a different perspective. He marveled at the stone walls enclosing the “yard” prompting a comment on the incredible amount of work it must have required…countless hours of hard labor to create those granite edifices. Nearing the bottom of the hill he noticed several stones had been removed, providing a narrow pathway as easy-access to a wagon road leading them onward to the decayed remains of an archaic wooden bridge: a lovely vision of rustic old New England.

As they walked together the air began changing. If possible, it became even sweeter; an aroma more fragrant than any perfume produced by beds of old stock flowers framing the front yard. Pine straw, as slippery as silk, lined the surface of the road. A dark tunnel formed as the heavily laden limbs hovered overhead in loving embrace; their dense outstretched branches had seemingly grown together over time. Approaching what was described as a
creek
during the height of summer, each step was cooler than the last; each breath became deeper within surrounding woodlands. They began to hear running water still at quite a distance. Even though blossoms had passed, fragile dogwood trees gratefully gathered beneath aged oaks. Humbly accepting a protective cover, slender branches trailed off as delicate tendrils, bowing gracefully toward a forest floor sprinkled with lady slippers. Nature’s finest features of a season, wild orchids would surely be difficult to avoid should one venture too far off that beaten path. Roger took Carolyn by the hand. As they walked along the steeply descending road, cautiously slowing their pace, perspective changed. Arriving at river’s edge, shadows surrendered to light.

Behold! The creek; lined with majestic maples shedding leaves as large as dinner plates. They paused, awestruck by a spectacle. Roger stood quite still; stunned: a breathtaking scene overwhelming his senses. Mounded mountain laurel kept a silent vigil, draped elegantly over both sides of the river bank. It sprung forth from earthen walls, clinging precariously to the moist black dirt, watching over its meandering stream of crystalline water. Drenched, dripping with delicate blossoms, each bush could have been admiring its own splendid reflection. Roger peered over the edge, gazing into the mirror, examining his own startled expression; the picture of youth in a fountain. All signs of stress had been erased from his features, as if cleansed by the cool, babbling brook traveling beneath him. There he found his future smiling back from its glassy surface. Carolyn was quietly observing her husband. He was doing it; sipping the potent nectar of Nature, like bird from bloom. It was love at first sight.

Through the purest water Roger stared at fish, studying the fluid movement of dozens of rainbow trout; the dancing and prancing in and out of cascading spotlights, shifting with the breeze. The markings on each one appeared to be distinctly its own. Patterns emerged. Perceptible traits, characteristics such as those shared among families were enhanced and magnified by this elemental interplay of water and light; perfection: Simpatico in Nature. Each excursion through beams of sparkling sunshine further revealed their essential nature. It
was
magical; something beyond beautiful: Technicolor rainbow fish gliding through a shallow pool illuminated with rays of divine light from above.