Life Is Short But Wide (4 page)

Perhaps only someone who has never had a home can imagine the feeling that possessed Irene’s heart. Her eyes filled with tears that rolled down her happy face. She was very happy, and grateful to Val. She thought to herself as she looked at him, “My husband. I am beginning a new life! A good life.”

Then, immediately, she said aloud to him, “There is that one thing I want you to remember, Val. I am not going to be no farmer. I mean that, Val.”

He smiled and pressed her warm, firm body to his as he said, “You will have a little kitchen garden, won’t you?”

“A little’ kitchen garden is fine, but no big un!” She stepped back from his arms. “I can’t
hardly believe that house is nice as you said it is. And you had the money for all that?”

He smiled and pulled her back to his hungry arms, saying nothing.

She sighed. “Well, I’m just happy to have a house to our-self.”

On the day they moved, Val had driven the wagon for what seemed to Irene a long time before they reached Wideland. She was frowning, looking the town over when Val turned off a busy street and proceeded up a small hill. At last Val pointed, and Irene finally did see the house. Then Val turned the wagon, filled with her few things and many secondhand gifts from Mz. Shaw, into the yard. She was more than pleased. “A house! My own house! Two stories!” In her thoughts she said, “At last, mine!”

Wings was there to help Val, of course. They happily emptied the wagon, and became at home in their new house. Irene ran her hand, lovingly, over the piano. Tears formed for the hundredth time as she thought, “My mind is at rest, my heart is at rest, because my man has provided. Our home. Thank You, God.”

Val was surprised later that night. He knew his wife was tired; they all were. But Irene opened her heart and body up to him as never before. Their new bedroom, a thin mattress on the floor, was filled with shining joy, pleasure, and bliss. Even for Irene, for the first time. At last, she understood why everyone wanted to do this thing called loving. It was loving; something to be shared only with your husband, not a father, uncle, or brother, or strange white man.

When Val and Irene had their first child, a baby girl, Irene
named her Rose, because Irene loved roses. She had planted a few and they came up! Another few years, and the second, and last, child was born. They let Wings name her. He named her Tante. Irene liked the sound of the name so it remained.

Bertha and Joseph had their first child somewhere around that time; my mother was having her own children, so she didn’t keep up with everybody over there so much at that time.

Anyway, having listened to Irene teach about literature, Bertha had learned some odd bits; she named her daughter Juliet. It took about a year to discover that child, Juliet, was born with a problem with her legs. She always fell when she tried to walk. People said she could crawl very well, and did. But she had to be watched closely so she wouldn’t crawl on or into the wrong things.

By that time, Wings had married a lovely maiden named Spring Feather. But he did not move off the reservation. “Spring wants to be close to her mother,” Wings said. “Until she learns to cook better, I am happy to be where both our mothers do the cooking.” He looked down at his hands as he smiled, saying, “I’ll never move away from there anyway. I like being free. I don’t want five or six trees, I want a forest! I want a range. I want to see all the animals and birds every day.” Val leaned back in his chair, smiled in agreement, but he loved his Irene and his home.

They slowly settled into the neighborhood. In time they bought some chickens for the hen house. Several colors, several kinds. Eggs were a main staple; they wouldn’t have to buy them. Then he started turning the earth for planting food. Irene watched him; it wouldn’t be a farm. For the moment, their start in life was complete.

Except for the times Irene brought little Rose to Bertha’s house, and later, Tante, so she could talk with Bertha, there was no company for either woman. Bertha’s family lived too far away; in any event she never mentioned them, and none came to visit. As Juliet grew, she waited, sitting every day looking through a front window at the door across the street … and life.

Juliet was glad to have a family near even if they weren’t big enough to come through that door yet. In her young mind she thought, like her mama told her, “They comin one day!”

Over the years, Wings, always observant, had noticed the little girl sitting lonely in the window across the street from his friends. The next time he came to visit Val, Wings brought some material with him, and showed Juliet how to make simple baskets. “You can make em out of anything, once you learn the way it goes. But use these reeds for now. I’ll bring you some more when I remember.”

Young Juliet possessed a strong mind, and was given to much thinking in her quiet, lonely life. She was almost overwhelmed when she saw he had also brought a small container which would hold about four pounds of rich soil. He put the container close to the window where the sunshine would reach it, and said, “Here are some seeds. You plant em in this here dirt, water em every day accordin to how hot it is and how dry they are. When they grow, you can eat em. I’m not tellin you what they are. I’ll let you be surprised.”

When he left, Juliet’s heart was about to burst! He had no idea how much that meant to the little disabled girl who was beginning to feel so useless to herself and her mother around the house.

As time went by, when Irene had a little extra time, she took little scraps of material and made a doll for Juliet. Then she would give Juliet little pieces of material, left over from her own sewing for her family, so Juliet could learn to sew, and make things for her doll. In this way Irene and Bertha became friends. Bertha was so glad to have someone showing interest, caring about her child.

Sometimes Bertha did small domestic jobs for a few ladies, and Irene would keep an eye on Juliet to see she was still sitting in the window where Bertha sat her every day.

Irene’s kitchen garden was larger now, but not too large. She laughed as she told Val, “I got help, and company now. I can work long as I want to, and stop when I want to. I like gardening now.” She quickly added, “I don’t want any larger garden though.” Years passed that way. Time passes quickly when life is smooth and you are busy.

Rose and Tante were good-mannered, lovely little girls. Their mother insisted on good manners. “Makes a huge difference in this here world!” They both wore their full heads of hair braided, one braid on each shoulder with bright
little ribbons or knitting yarn tied neatly on them. Their cheeks rosy in smooth, healthy skin, Rose’s rich brown, and Tante’s golden-pecan.

Their mother insisted that they care for their teeth morning and night. “We don’t have no dentist money to waste round here! We can keep our teeth long as we live if we just keep them clean.”

She started early teaching them to read, write, and count. “There isn’t any room for fools in this world, ladies! You never know when you gonna have to take care your own self!”

Val brought them books, whatever kind, whenever he saw one for sale that he could afford. When he couldn’t afford it, he paid down, asking the seller to hold it for just a little while.

Rose was a gentle and caring child, moving without haste, but steadily through her chores. She was always trying to help her mother even when she didn’t know exactly how. Tante was zesty, full of energy, life, and laughter. She was also very smart; she learned quickly. She preferred being out of the house, always finding something to do in the yard. She begged Val for a dog.

Val brought them a healthy, frisky German shepherd dog to grow up with them, to protect them. Everyone loved the dog they named Brave, except the neighbors. He didn’t like to “do his business” in his own yard; he went far down the road in the neighbors’ yards. Keeping up with, and cleaning up after, Brave was one of Tante’s jobs. She liked the job, it gave her a chance to talk to all the other people in her neighborhood.

The girls took Brave to visit Juliet all the time. Juliet loved holding, petting Brave. “He is so fluffy soft, and so pretty, Mama. Why cain’t we have one, Mama?” She never wanted to let
them leave and take Brave away. Bertha often had to put them out because they found it hard to leave the crying little girl.

When they would leave, Juliet would cry to her mother, “How come I can’t have a puppy-dog too, Mama?” Bertha, who believed the truth was always best, would answer, “Cause we ain’t hardly feed yourself, chile. We can’t give no good food to a dog. Jes play with that ‘un when you can.”

So they lived life, and they all grew.

Irene loved her children equally, but was closer to Rose. Rose was always underfoot, sewing, cleaning, working with her mother. Tante got up heading outside with the free, clear air, birds, bugs, and Brave. Brave would always be waiting for her. She seemed a laughing, happy child, but inside her mind … some feeling, just out of the reach of her mind, was that feeling that something was missing. She didn’t know what it was, or even why she thought it was, but … it was.

Tante adored her father and Wings. The three of them were a separate family in her mind. She called Wings “Uncle,” and Wings liked her best. He didn’t like Rose less, he just paid less attention to her because she was always in the house doing woman things.

Wings would remark, “That little roughneck, Tante, is always trying to get up on a horse! You watch her, Val, one day she will ride away from here!” When she was seven years old they found a small horse in a herd of wild horses caught for Wings’ friends and family. Wings decided it should be for Tante. They broke in the gloriously free and beautiful little horse, cleaned it up, and named the horse Windy.

Rose was content to sit on the veranda and watch Tante ride; she wasn’t interested. She liked to smooth or brush Windy’s
lustrous coat, but she was content to sit on the porch with the dog, Brave, and watch her sister ride through the wind with her braids flying.

When her father was away herding cattle, Tante had to keep Windy clean, feed him, and keep the yard clean all by herself with just a little help from her mother and sister. She did it all. That gave her more to talk about with her father when he returned.

Val loved to herd cattle, but he loved to come home. He loved to look at the house as his horse trotted toward it. He would ride up the street and, suddenly, there it was! His life!

The wars and rumors of wars in Europe had not really touched their personal world.

The years passed pleasantly for the family. The girls grew in health, and were schooled at home. The home in which they lived was warm and cozy, filled with love. Rose was now ten years old; she was not lazy, but she was not excited about anything.