Until the Harvest (6 page)

He chuckled. “I reckon it’s past time, but better late than never.”

Margaret felt something akin to distaste. They were so old. What could possibly be the point of getting married? They probably wouldn’t even live much longer. Not that she’d say
any of that out loud, but really, it was kind of embarrassing to see two wrinkled ninety-year-olds making puppy-dog eyes at each other.

She snuck a peek at Henry. He looked about to laugh, but was holding it in. She caught his eye, and amusement passed between them. He really was kind of appealing when he wasn’t busy being mad.

They stayed a little longer before heading home. Frank pulled Henry aside on the porch while the ladies said their good-byes. Back in the car Henry seemed pensive, but Margaret was pretty well ready to write him off as moody, so she paid him little mind.

“What do you think about Frank and Angie getting married?” Margaret asked Emily.

“Well, now, I think it’s a hoot. You’re never too old for love.”

Margaret gave Emily a dubious look. “Seriously? I mean, I guess there’s nothing wrong with it, but it seems kind of silly.”

“Silly? I don’t know that I’d call it that.” Emily smiled. “I might call it hopeful or optimistic. I might even call it brave.”

“Brave? What’s brave about getting married?”

Emily laughed. “Oh, my dear, it’s the bravest thing two people can do at any age. To pledge yourself to someone forever—no matter what comes—that takes nerve. I suppose the Lord made us to have all the fluttery, falling-in-love feelings because He knew we’d never hitch up otherwise.”

Mayfair jumped in. “They’re too old to have children, aren’t they?”

Emily laughed again, and Margaret joined in, although she flushed a little when she saw Henry grinning behind the steering wheel.

“Yes, they’re well past that age, but they may not be past, well,” she glanced around the car. “Other things.”

Margaret’s blush deepened, and she faced forward, trying to avoid everyone’s eyes, most particularly Henry’s. She’d read
about the sexual revolution, birth control, and feminism, but she didn’t want any part of it. She wanted to simplify her life, not complicate it. And she certainly didn’t want to think about those things when two people old enough to be her great-grandparents were involved.

“Grandma, when are you thinking of getting a cow?”

Margaret could have hugged Henry for the sudden change in conversation.

“Oh, I’m in no hurry. I’ll need someone to milk her every day, so I’ll have to sort that out first. I could manage most days, but mornings can be hard on these old joints of mine.”

“I can do it,” Henry offered.

“Henry, I still have hopes of you finishing college. You have only a year and a half to go. But maybe you could take it over while you’re at home.”

“I could learn,” Margaret offered. “Is it hard?”

Henry snorted. “It is if you’re prissy about it.”

“Who says I’m prissy?”

Henry darted a glance at her. “I’m just saying you’ve got to let the cow know who’s in charge. Be ready to throw an elbow or block her when she tries to put a foot in the bucket.”

Margaret rolled her eyes. He was just trying to intimidate her. “Guess my teacher had better be pretty good, then.”

Henry puffed his chest out a little.

“Miss Emily, think you could teach me?”

“Oh, a hard worker like you would be a natural.” Emily patted her on the shoulder.

Margaret was pleased to see Henry deflate.

“And you’ve always been good with animals. Not sentimental, either. I think slaughtering the hog last fall was harder on me than it was on you, and you’re the one who fed that critter most days.”

“Well, it made me a little sad, but I do like bacon. I just
reminded myself that was his purpose every time I went out there to feed him.”

Emily turned to Mayfair. “Child, you think you might like some fresh milk and homemade butter?” Mayfair nodded, eyes shining. “Just like Heidi—except she drank goat milk and ate toasted cheese. Do you think we could make cheese?”

Emily laughed. “That’s a tall order, but we could give it a try.” She slapped her knee. “Well, then, I think between the four of us we might manage a cow. Henry, you and I will go to the stockyards next week and see what we can find.”

5

A
T
HOME
THAT
EVENING
, Henry considered what it was Frank asked him as they were leaving. Frank didn’t have any family left, and he told Henry he’d always thought Casewell would stand up with him if he ever got married. But since Casewell was gone, he wondered if Henry might do the honors.

Henry sat out on the porch, feet up on the railing, breath clouding the air as he pondered the question. He liked Frank, had known the old man since he could remember. Somehow Frank and his dad seemed to have a special bond. Henry remembered his father saying Frank saved his life once, but Henry always assumed it was an exaggeration. Still, who knew? Maybe the old guy really had saved him. Probably kept him from getting kicked in the head by a cow or something. He couldn’t picture Dad doing anything really dangerous.

He thought back to what seemed more and more like a narrow escape the night before. Now that was danger—and excitement. He might have felt a measure of peace on his grandmother’s farm today, but it would get boring if every day were like that. Now, running moonshine could get a man’s blood up, even if there were only a handful of folks still making the stuff now that store-bought liquor was readily available. Even so, there were
still those who preferred quality, homemade hooch. He clasped his hands behind his head. And Charlie said if Henry wanted to go in with him, they could expand their line of merchandise and make some real money. Whatever that meant. Henry just wanted to show his family he could support them.

Oh, well. He’d stand up with Frank. It’s what men did—stand up for each other. He’d be moving on to bigger and better things soon enough, might as well help out a friend of his father’s along the way.

Decision made, Henry dropped his feet from the railing, stood, and stretched. He was about to head in when his mother stepped out onto the porch. She sat down in a rocker and pulled her coat more snugly around her shoulders.

“Can I talk to you a minute, son?”

Henry slumped back into his chair. “Sure, Mom. Whatcha need?”

She clenched the fabric of her coat and released it. “I’m a little bit worried about you, Henry.”

Henry rolled his eyes and slouched lower.

“The sheriff stopped by.”

Henry froze and his stomach twisted. He’d pretty well forgotten about the sheriff.

“Seems he had some questions about you and those Simmons boys. I guess maybe one of them got into some trouble?”

“Yeah, that’s what he said.”

“Did you know anything about it?”

“Look, Mom, like I told the sheriff, I don’t know anything. Why everyone has to make a big deal about me hanging out with some old friends is beyond me. Seriously, can’t a guy spend some time with his pals without getting the third degree?”

Perla sat up straighter, and her hands stilled. “Young man, I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head. Of course I’m going to be concerned when the sheriff comes around asking
after you.” Tears welled in her eyes. “You and Sadie are all I have left.” She stood and reached for the screen door. “Just don’t do anything foolish.”

Alone again, Henry felt like a rat. He wished he could talk this out with his father. Dad always knew how to put things in perspective, how to make sense of whatever Henry was going through. He headed for his room. Mom might not like what he was doing, but he was doing it for her. Surely that made it okay.

The next morning Margaret answered Emily’s phone. Angie Talbot was on the line, sounding annoyed.

“Well, hey, Angie, are you looking for Emily?”

“No, I’m looking for Frank, and I can’t find him anywhere.” Margaret thought she could almost hear the tap, tap of Angie’s foot. “He’s usually here of a morning, but today I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.” Her voice dropped low. “You don’t think he’s got another girl, do you?”

Margaret stifled a laugh. “No, ma’am. Maybe he had an errand to run.”

“He always tells me if he’s going to be late.” Angie huffed. “This is just not like him.” Her voice changed again. This time she sounded on the verge of tears. “What should I do?”

“Let me get Emily for you.”

Ten minutes later Emily hung up the phone and told Margaret they were going over to see Angie. Mayfair was along again, so all three got into the car, and Margaret drove them to Angie’s rambling house.

“She sounded awfully upset,” Margaret said. “Do you think something’s wrong with Frank? Should we call the sheriff?”

“Not yet,” Emily said. “I think I may know what’s going on, but just keep driving, and we’ll see what’s what in short order.”

When they got to the house, they headed inside and found Frank trying to soothe an agitated Angie.

“Hey, there,” he greeted them. “Might not be the best time for a visit.”

Emily bustled in and coaxed Angie onto the sofa alongside Mayfair and got her calmed down.

“She called us worried about you,” explained Margaret. “She was so upset, Emily thought we’d better come on over.”

Frank sighed and rubbed his hand over his eyes, then motioned toward the kitchen. Emily joined them.

“I’ve got her settled down in there telling Mayfair how to make homemade soap. She’s in quite a dither this morning. Frank, do you need to tell us anything?”

“Guessed it, have you? Well, I don’t suppose I could have kept it a secret forever. It’s part of the reason I want to marry her.” He held up a hand. “Just part, mind you. I love her something fierce.”

Margaret felt confused. Clearly something was wrong with Angie, but at the same time here was a man professing his love. She’d never encountered anything quite like it.

“She’s slipping, isn’t she?” Emily squeezed Frank’s arm.

“I’m afraid so.” He hung his head. “I told myself it was just the forgetfulness that comes with old age for a long time, but I’m afraid it’s worse than that. Might even be that Alzheimer’s.”

“Oh, Frank. I’m so sorry.” Emily patted his arm. “What can we do?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to keep folks from knowing. She’d hate it if anyone felt sorry for her or treated her different. But it’s getting harder.” He ran a hand through his snowy white hair, standing it on end.

“Times like this morning. I told her over and over I’d be late today. Got her to repeat it back to me so many times I thought she might get aggravated and take a swing at me. But then she
goes and forgets. It’s like the morning dew. As soon as the sun touches it—poof.” He touched his gnarled fingertips together and flung them apart. “Gone.”

“If you need to go someplace, maybe Margaret or I could come sit with Angie, remind her where you are until you get back.”

“It’d be a help. I don’t much go anywhere without her, but every once in a while something comes up.”

Margaret watched the old man’s shoulders sag and thought for the first time that he really did look old. She couldn’t believe he was planning to marry someone who was losing her mind. She felt rude asking, but couldn’t help herself.

“Why are you marrying her if she’s only going to get worse?” She wanted to take the words back once Frank settled his gaze on her, but instead she dug deeper. “I mean, from what I hear about that disease, she’ll get to where she doesn’t even know you.”

“I’ll know her,” Frank said, sadness weighting his eyes. “No matter what, I’ll always know her.”

Margaret felt tears gather behind her eyes, but she willed them away. This was silly. If some foolish old man wanted to saddle himself with a crazy old woman, who was she to care one way or another? The Christian thing to do was to come sit with Angie once in a while and remind her what her own name was. If Frank wanted to throw away what little time he had left, it was no business of hers.

Emily wrapped an arm around Frank’s waist and squeezed. “You’re a good man, Frank Post.”

“Not really,” he said. “Just selfish.” He leaned over to squeeze Emily in return and then straightened his shirt front. “I thank you for coming over to check on Angie and for offering to sit with her if need be. It surely is a comfort to have good neighbors.”

“Don’t think a thing of it,” Emily said.

Margaret followed Emily back into the sitting room, where she was surprised to see Angie and Mayfair sitting and whispering with their heads touching. Mayfair didn’t like to be touched by just anyone. They were completely absorbed in their conversation and didn’t seem to hear the others enter the room.

“Mayfair, I think it’s time to head home,” Margaret said.

Mayfair finished what she was saying to Angie and lifted her head to look at her sister. “Okay.” Her eyes looked a little glassy.

Margaret felt the oddest wave of possessiveness wash over her. What had Angie done to deserve her sister’s close attention? She suddenly wanted to take Mayfair by the hand and not stop until they were safe in their bedroom at home with the door locked.