Mary And Alvin Ch 21

Rise Up This Morning

Mary held her mother's hand as they strolled down the path through the woods. "When I first came to Maine, I couldn't get over how green it was," she said, "I felt like I was swimming in green."

"I remember you telling me that," Jean nodded.

A trio of woodcocks bobbed out of their way and disappeared into the brush as they rounded the turn that sloped down to the stream. They walked along the gently flowing water until the little clearing where it opened into the broad beaver pond. Alvin had sawn and sanded a fallen log into a bench there, where Mary would often come and sit when she wanted some quiet time alone. She took a seat there now, her mother beside her. Jean wrapped her arm wrapped around Mary's waist. On the pond, a squadron of geese floated by, unconcerned by their presence.

"When you first came here," Jean said, "When we talked on the phone, I paid such close attention to every word, to your tone of voice. Like I was listening for clues as to how you were."

"I was fine, Mom, I liked it here from the first."

Jean nodded. "Yes, but I worried. My little girl, so far away."

A pair of dragonflies hovered above the water's edge, flitting in and out among the cattails. Mary and Jean watched them for a while.

"I'm worried again, sweetheart," Jean said when the dragonflies had flown off. "I wish I wasn't going home tomorrow."

"I know, Mom, but everybody has to stop fussing over me. I'm alright. And I'm going back to work. That's the best thing for me, to get back to normal."

"I wonder what normal is for you, honey."

"What do you mean?" Mary asked, defensively.

Jean stared across the pond for a minute. "Mary, when you were a young girl, you were the liveliest, most vivacious child I'd ever seen. It was like a light shined from you. And when your Dad died, that light went out."

"That was a long time ago, Mom."

"Not really, Mary. And that pain never goes away. You learn how to hold it at arm's length, but it's always there."

Mary shook her head. "I don't think that's the message I need to hear right now."

"I'm going to tell you what you need to hear right now," Jean admonished her. Mary went silent at the tone of her mother's voice and listened.

"When you met Wyatt, the light started to creep back. It didn't shine like it had before, but at least it was there. Then when you broke up, it dimmed again. So, when you announced you were moving all the way across the country, I thought you had given up, that I would never see my little girl shine like I knew she could."

Mary sniffled back a tear. "I didn't give up, Mama, I was trying to find a place I could start over."

Jean rubbed her back. "I know, honey. And you found it. When I listened to you on the phone and you told me you met somebody, I started to hear the old you in your voice again."

"You were pissed," Mary chuckled, "You were freaking out about it."

"I had concerns."

"Oh honey, can't you find a boy your own age?" Mary mimicked her mother.

Jean laughed, "Well, I was afraid you were making a mistake. But the first time I saw the two of you together, I saw that shine again, I saw my girl as I remembered her when everything in her world was good and she was happy."

"He has made me very happy, Mama."

"I know he has, and I love him for it. But when I got here last week, and I saw you, the light was gone again."

"I am trying not to let the sadness take over," Mary said quietly.

"It will take time. But you love each other and you will try again."

"I don't know, Mama. I'm scared."

"Of course you are. That's part of life. When you have children, you'll be scared every damn day."

"Thank you for coming to be with me, Mama."

Jean stood up and stretched. She shaded her face with her hand and looked out over the pond. "Does this freeze solid in the winter?"

"Yes," Mary answered her, "Alvin and Tim have an ice fishing shack they haul out there every year."

She held out her hand. Mary rose and took it.

"You could ice skate here, couldn't you?"

"Sure, I suppose you could."

Jean began to lead Mary back up the path. "I've never been ice skating. Sometime, you and I will come down here with your children and we will all go ice skating."

***

Every summer, Alvin hired some local teenagers to help out at the wharf. This year, because his broken hand limited what he could do himself, he decided he might need to hire a few extras. Derek Bryant and Jimmy Philbrook were back from last season, and Jimmy brought his sister Kate along, so Alvin decided to hire her as well. Both boys were handy around the yard, and Derek was one hell of a good rigger. He held the stack of applications on his lap and shuffled through them with his one good hand. He set two others aside. Caleb Ellis was a big, strong farm boy and ought to be able to handle some of the heavier work, and he knew Kirk McCabe's dad, and expected any boy of his would be a good choice. He thought for a minute, then flipped through the papers again and pulled out one more. Amy Hayes. She was a wee thing, and he was skeptical that she could handle much of the physical work, but there were other things to do, answering phones, collecting fees and such.

He swiveled in his chair to face Laura, working on order forms at her desk.

"Looking to hire six this year," he told her.

"Probably a good idea, since you're going to be half useless for a while."

"I'm pleased to know you only think half. What do you think about hiring that Hayes girl?"

"She ain't going to be hauling any anchors, that's certain."

"I know but she can answer the phones and mind the till and such. Besides," he shrugged, "Kate Philbrook is a good one, and she ain't going to want to be the only girl on the wharf."

"What am I, a dead halibut?"

"You gonna hang out with her on her break time and talk about boys or Taylor Swift or whatnot?"

"Nope, I guess not."

"Well, alright then." He put Amy's application with the others he had selected, gathered the rest, and stood up.

"I'm going to take these up to the diner, see if Audrey wants any of them."

"Bring me back some chips," Laura said, her face buried in her paperwork.

"Sure you don't want a dead halibut sandwich?"

"Sure you don't want to do all this friggin' ordering?"

"Oh no, that's on you and Diana. I'm just physical labor around here." He heard Laura snort in derision as he shut the door behind him.

Audrey was mopping the kitchen floor when Alvin walked into the diner's cramped kitchen.

"Can you tell me why you do all the cleaning before you hire your summer help?" he asked her.

She straightened her back and blew a loose strand of hair off her face. "Because somebody around here has to be budget conscious."

Alvin dropped the applications on the counter and pulled two bags of potato chips off the clip rack.

"See, right there," Audrey said, "case in point."

Alvin laughed, tucked the chips under his arm and fished a cold can of Coke out of the cooler.

"I've got a few applications I thought you might want to take a look at," he said, gesturing at the papers on the counter.

"I think I'm good, but I'll look them over."

Alvin took the chips and soda out to the deck. He sat down at one of the picnic tables and opened one of the bags. As he ate his snack, he looked out over the wharf, mentally cataloging the work he still needed to get done before the next weekend's opening.

"Mind if I join you?"

He looked up and saw Audrey standing over him.

"Of course not."

She sat down across from him, picked up his soda can and took a sip.

"How is Mary doing, dear?" she asked.

Alvin shrugged. "Physically, she's fine. And emotionally, well, she acts like she's alright, but I don't know, it seems like she's going through the motions."

Audrey nodded. "You know, Alvin, I miscarried my first time."

"Jeezum crow, Audrey, I did not know that."

"You were a kid then," she said with a dismissive wave. "But yeah, I did, and it was devastating. But we tried again. That's the thing, Alvin, you have to see it as a setback, not the end of the road."

Alvin stared out at the harbor. "She could have died, Audrey."

"She didn't."

"She could have."

"She didn't. Alvin, having babies has been killing women since time began."

"I'm not sure what to do, Audrey. It just seems like I ought to be able to make things right, but I can't."

"Alvin, your Dad and I opened this diner when you were just a baby. Hell, I wasn't much out of high school myself. He had that same streak in him, that I can fix anything attitude. That's just a recipe for disappointment, dear."

"But I have to do something."

"What you can do is provide the proper environment for her to heal inside, and then let her heal. But also, accept that this experience has changed her."

"That's what worries me."

Audrey reached across the table and laid her hand on his.

"Listen, Alvin. When a woman is carrying a child, their blood mingles, circulates from one to the other, through both their hearts. And from that, the child's DNA enters the mother's system. Even after the child is born, or even if the child doesn't make it, that DNA stays in her system. Stays for all her life, Alvin. Do you get what I'm saying, dear?"

"I think so."

"You can say that she lost the child, but in a way, no she didn't, that child still lives inside her and always will. Of course, it changes her."

Alvin finished his Coke and sat quietly for a minute, thinking about what Audrey had said.

"There's another side of that," he said after a few minutes.

"What's that, dear?'

"Half that DNA come from me."

"Why, yes it did."

"So, thanks to that child, a little bit of me will always be alive in her."

"I guess that's so."

"That's sort of a comforting thought."

"Take comfort where you can, dear," Audrey said, standing up. She patted Alvin's shoulder as she turned to go back to her kitchen. "And give it where you can."

***

Mary was nervous as she walked into the bank for her first day back at work. She dreaded the commiseration and condolences that she was sure were coming. But she was surprised at the reactions of her co-workers. Everyone greeted her with smiles and welcomed her back, but there were no heartfelt hugs or sympathetic tears. She mentioned her surprise to Kelly on their midmorning break.

"Oh, well, you're welcome," Kelly chuckled.

"Oh, so you told them to act this way?"

"I sure did. I figured you wanted to get back to work, not dwell on what happened."

"I do, Kel, thank you."

Kelly patted Mary's knee. "But listen, sis, if you do want a good old fashioned crying session, let me know. I'm here for ya."

"Thank you, dear, but I think I've about cried myself out. I hope so, anyway."

"How's Alvin doing?"

"He's doing his usual 'gotta be strong for those who can't' thing."

"Uh huh. Him with his broken hand he allegedly slammed in the car door."

Mary shook her head. "I know he didn't shut it in the car door. He punched the side of the barn."

"He told you?"

"No, I knew all along it was something like that. I figured it out because everyone was so busy fretting over me that nobody thought to clean the blood stain off the side of the barn."

Kelly laughed. "Say what you will about the Faulkners, they'd make piss poor murderers."

When Mary arrived home that evening, Jennifer came across the field to greet her.

"Hey, babe," she said as Mary climbed out of her car, "I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure, Jen, what is it?"

"Well, I'm going to start vending at the farmer's market on Saturday. I could use some help, and since my Dad works every Saturday in the summer, I thought maybe you'd like to come hang out with me."

Mary gave the idea only a few seconds thought. "Sure, I would love to."

"Cool. I figured Danni and I will load the truck on Friday night, then we just have to drive down there and set up, sell some veggies and shoot the shit. I've got one of those art fair kind of tents, and some crates and planks to make into shelves and a couple of folding chairs. It will be fun."

"Sounds great."

"How did work go?"

"It was fine, honey. Thank you for asking."

On Saturday morning Mary and Jennifer drove into town to the high school, where the farmers market set up in the parking lot. They found their assigned spot, and assembled the pop up tent, then the two of them arranged the crates and planks into a display area. One shelf was crammed with jars of maple syrup and the first batch of honey from Jennifer's bees. There were overflowing baskets of salad greens and rhubarb, and stacks of carrots and onions.

"What do people do with rhubarb?" Mary asked.

"Mostly make pies. Strawberry-rhubarb is really popular around here."

Mary thought for a moment. "Then why don't you grow strawberries and sell them together?"

Jennifer stared at her. "God damn. Why didn't I think of that?"

Mary shrugged. "Fresh eyes see things that get overlooked."

"Yeah, I guess so. Or you took pie selling 101 at USC."

When they finished setting up, Mary took a walk around the circle of vendors, looking at all their displays. Most of them had the same sort of vegetables as Jennifer, but there were several selling chicken, dairy products, even freshly caught seafood. There was even a table of wild plants. Mary looked at a box filled with some sort of tightly wound green stalks.

"What are these?" she asked the overalled farmer behind the table.

"Fiddlehead ferns," he replied.

"What are they like?"

"Well, some say asparagus. But they don't make your pee smell funny."

Mary decided she'd ask Jennifer or Alvin before she tried them.

The best part of the market, Mary thought, was a baker offering hot coffee and homemade pastries. Mary bought two cups and some almond croissants and took them back to share with Jennifer.

A group of fiddlers set up at the far end of the market and began to entertain the crowd. Business was light as the day went by and Jennifer and Mary spent more time people watching than serving customers, but when the market closed in the afternoon, Jennifer seemed satisfied with their sales. The greens were all gone, and the carrots and onions would keep. They had sold some syrup and honey, and those were high profit items.

"Well, I had a nice day, but it didn't seem like you really needed my help," Mary said as they packed the truck.

"It will get busier as more of the summer folks arrive, and we get the more popular stuff in, like the corn and tomatoes," Jennifer explained. She put the last crate in the back of the truck, then turned to Mary.

"Listen, I hope you don't think I asked you to come with me out of pity or some shit like that."

"It did cross my mind."

"Well, fuck that. I invited you because I can use the help and I like your company. You in for next week?

"I am."

They climbed in the truck and headed home.

***

On a bright Sunday afternoon when the corn was sprouting in its long rows and the day lilies were splashing the roadside with color, the Faulkner family stood in a cluster in the back pasture and watched as a long livestock truck carefully maneuvered into the driveway and jockeyed into position to back across the field. Jennifer and Alvin stood behind it on either side, waving the driver on as he lined up the trailer with the wide gate in the pasture fence. They signaled him to stop when the back end was inside the enclosure.

Alvin joined Mary at the wire fence. Charlotte and Seth stood next to them, holding hands. On the other side of the gate, Tim and Molly and Theo, Diana and Bob and Rachel anxiously peered into the trailer's ventilation holes. Theo was dancing up and down in anticipation. Danni was inside the fence. Jennifer and the truck driver squeezed past the truck to join her. The driver opened a latch on the tailgate and pulled a long steel ramp out and set its end on the ground, then he opened the back and he and Jennifer disappeared inside.

A moment late, a fuzzy, cream colored head poked out and looked around. Theo shouted excitedly and Rachel began clapping her hands, and the head ducked back into the darkness.

"Don't scare them," Danni gently admonished them, "keep it down until they get used to their new home." She climbed the ramp, and a minute later, a chocolate brown alpaca trotted down the ramp and into the pasture. Another, perhaps the timid one who had stuck out its head, emerged more cautiously and joined the first. The rest soon followed, a dozen in all, snowy white, cream, brown and tan. They began milling about the pasture, sampling the grass and ducking their heads into the water trough.

Danni came out of the truck on the ramp, holding one end of a rope in her hand. She turned and began tugging on it. A gray shape emerged from the shadows and looked around tentatively.

"Danni, what's that?" Theo called.

"He's a donkey, honey."

Jennifer was behind the frightened donkey, pushing on his hindquarters. After a short struggle, he decided to come down and walked slowly into the pasture.

"I didn't know you were getting a donkey," Tim said.

Jennifer wiped her hands on the thighs of her jeans. "It's common to raise a donkey with a herd of alpacas or sheep. It becomes one of the herd, and protects them."

"The donkey protects them?" Diana asked.

"Oh hell, yeah. Donkeys are tough. You ought to see the way they will mess up a coyote."

"Jenny! Do the alpackies have names?" Theo asked.

"Alpacas, honey," Jennifer replied. "Not yet, but you can help us name them."

"What about the donkey?"

"Well, what do you think his name is?"

Theo walked over and stood in front of the donkey, looking him right in the face. "He looks like that guy," he said.

"What guy, Theo?" Molly asked.

"That guy who makes the speeches."

"Not sure who you mean, chummie," Alvin said.

"Yes, you do, Uncle Alvin, he made a speech when you married Aunt Mary."

"The mayor?" Alvin bent down and took a close look at the donkey. "Well, ain't that a pisser, the boy's right."

Jennifer squatted and looked at the donkey. She stood up and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, that settles it, the donkey's name is Virgil."

The truck pulled away, the gate was shut and the alpacas, along with their guardian Virgil, set about exploring their new home.

Bob and Tim, with Theo's assistance, went down to the grove and got a fire started. Before long, the whole family was gathered around it, roasting corn and grilling hot dogs. Tim fetched his guitar from his truck and played a few tunes as the afternoon faded to a violet twilight. The girls, Seth in tow, left to go into town to the movies, and Molly wanted to get Theo home to his bed. Soon, Alvin and Mary were alone.

Mary sat on the edge of the lounge chair, staring into the dwindling fire. Alvin stepped over the chair and straddled it. He wrapped one arm around her waist and handed her his beer.

She took a sip and handed it back. They sat in silence, watching the flames and listening to the peepers singing.

"I miss us," Mary said in a low voice.

Alvin took a drink from his beer and set the bottle down on the ground. He put both arms around Mary and hugged her tight.

"I do too," he said, "What are we going to do about it?"

"I don't know." She hesitated, then said, "Whenever I think about sex, I think about the baby."

Alvin struggled to find words with which to respond.

"I know it's not fair to you," Mary continued, "I feel like I'm letting you down again."

"Don't feel that way, sweetheart, this is something we are going through together."

"Maybe I can give you a blowjob or something," she said, starting to turn towards him.

Alvin held her firmly in place. "No, Mary, you don't have to do that. I love you no matter what. Things take time."