The Long Road Home

“I’ll have to get wood floors put in, someday.” In the meantime, she thought to herself, a row of carpet samples might do.

“You’ll probably want the upstairs john done too, I suspect.”

“Not this year.”

“That means you’ll have to run down three flights of stairs just to pee? Long trip in the middle of the night.” Esther laughed, but at the sight of Nora’s face, she cut it short.

It went on like that as they toured the house, and Nora’s to-do list grew. Esther also pointed out all the fine features of the house, like the redwood beam and deck, the slate roof, the rosy brick, and more copper piping than anyone else in town could dream of putting in.

“Not another house like it in the county,” Esther reported.

Nora would have traded grandeur for economy. All she saw was miles of unfinished floor and ceilings, rafters covered with thick sheets of clear plastic, and trapped under them, the carcasses of hordes of flies, ants, and wasps. There were no doors to the bedrooms, or closets for that matter, and all the walls, from the basement to the top-floor bedroom, were only roughed in. Electrical outlets hung from walls or frames where walls were supposed to be.

Nora’s critical eye took in and calculated what it would cost to complete the five-level six-bedroom house. It was enough to weaken her at the knees.

“I’m just hoping to get done what I need to survive during the winter. And at least a door on the bathroom,” she said, thinking of C.W.’s showers. “I can hold off for a while on the aesthetics.” She didn’t mention that once the house was finished, her taxes would also rise.

Esther stood in the center of the great room and craned her neck to view the vaulted ceilings. “Why don’t you just finish it all up?” she asked. “This house has been sitting up here untended for years. In fact, every year, right about February when we’re feeling pretty tight in our place, we can’t help but wonder what you started this big house for, just for you and Mike and no kids.”

Nora saw from Esther’s expression that she envied the room.

“Why be finicky now?” Esther asked, casting a testy glance Nora’s way. “Mike would finish the job in a hurry. First-class all the way.”

Nora’s back stiffened. “Frankly, I wish he had finished this house. But he didn’t.” Nora’s face was pink with indignation. “Mike left quite a few projects unfinished, and now it’s up to me to tidy up. I will get it done when I can, as I can.” She tightened her arms across her chest and her voice was more sharp than she had intended.

Esther’s eyes narrowed, studying Nora. “You really plan to live here?”

“I do.”

“Why?” She shifted her weight. “Why did you move here anyway?”

Nora expelled a long hiss of air. How often was she going to have to defend this decision? She thought a moment, trying to explain the unexplainable.

“I moved here from New York to find something beautiful again. In me and out there.” She saw Esther’s doubtful expression and coupled her hands in frustration. “I can’t put it into words.”

“When are you gonna move back?”

Esther scored a direct hit that left Nora speechless. Looking at her, Nora saw the peachy skin and sweet features of a country girl—and the brittle cool of a seasoned New York socialite. Nora’s face colored, then flushed as she watched a small smile of victory ease across Esther’s face.

“People like you come and go from New York all the time,” Esther charged. “Dreaming of the good life. Then you learn that life is life, and up here that life is pretty tough. Next thing you pack up and go. Leavin’ us behind.” She sniffed and looked away, squinting. When she turned back, her eyes were hard.

“We don’t take much to people who come and go.”

Nora stared back with eyes wide, affronted by the hostility she did nothing to inspire.

“Speaking of which,” Esther swung on her heel and grabbed her bag off the floor, “I gotta go.”

Nora counted Esther’s steps across the plywood. “It’s not like that,” Nora called to her back.

Esther turned. “We’ll see,” she said, then left.

Nora walked out onto the deck to watch Esther as she backed away in her Impala, turned, then drove out of sight.

She had remained standing on the deck; she stood there still, recalling Esther’s words as the clouds grew heavy in the heavens. Nora gripped the deck rail tightly and fought off the dark, dull cloak of depression.

“Yes, Esther,” she spoke aloud in the autumn hush. “We will see.”

6

MAY JOHNSTON STIRRED UP a potion of baking soda and warm water and set it before Seth, giving it a final spin at the table.

“Drink every drop. You need to burp.”

She stood, one hand on the back of Seth’s chair, the other on her ample hip, hovering like a hen as her brother grunted and slowly reached out for the brew.

“You know I won’t budge till it’s gone.”

Seth looked up at the formidable figure of his sister. Only her stubbornness was bigger than she was.

“Don’t I know it,” he muttered. With a sigh of resignation, he took the cup and swallowed it down in three noisy gulps. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he grimaced. Soon after, a loud raucous burp exploded from his girth.

“Good!” exclaimed May. “See, I was right. Nothin’ but indigestion.”

Seth rubbed his sore chest and smiled weakly. “Yeh-up, that’ll be it.” Another smaller burp offered him more relief.

May took the chair opposite Seth and slowly lowered herself into it. She was no stranger to ill health but always seemed to tend to others’ ills more than to her own. Diabetes had made her obese, gum disease had taken a number of her front teeth, varicose veins kept her off her feet, and every spring and fall the flowers that she adored kept her sneezing and tearing.

She cast all that off as “her ailments,” and nothing more. Just crosses to bear, time off purgatory. Nonetheless, her own ailments kept her on the alert for the ailments of others. No flu bug could creep in her family’s house without vitamin C and orange juice being rushed out. If a sore throat stung, a spoonful of honey, some lemon juice, and a splash of whisky flowed.

May had come to Seth’s house soon after his wife took sick. She bathed, fed, dressed, and nursed Liza during the final months the doctors let her stay home. Then, after cancer claimed her sister-in-law, May stayed on awhile longer to help her brother and his five motherless children. She rented a trailer, parked it across the road from Seth’s house, and in typical fashion, rolled up her sleeves and focused on “the babies.”

That was twenty-two years ago. May had long since bought the trailer, planted her beloved perennial bed, and paved a small walkway from her trailer to Seth’s back door. Her “babies” were grown up now, and “her ailments” kept her boxed up in the trailer most of the time. Still, she never let an ailment pass by without speaking on it.

“You sure that doctor came up and checked on Mrs. MacKenzie?” she asked Seth.

“Yeh-up. Saw his car come and go.”

“How big did you say that lump was?”

Seth offered as detailed a description as he could between burps, knowing his sister would settle for nothing less.

“Strange, her coming back here. Thought for sure they’d put that land up for sale once he died. The Vermont Land Trust already made inquiries, you know. Nice piece a land. You sure she ain’t selling?”

“Didn’t sound like it. She wants to live here, so she says.”

“Live in that big, unfinished house all alone? Without help?” Her meaty hand slapped the table. “That’s just crazy.”

“Don’t I know it. Told her so but she’s got her mind set. Me and the boys are gonna work on the house. They can use the work. Lamb prices are down again.”