CHAPTER 24

  A MAGICAL PLACE

  I began to enjoy our time on the farm that summer. I enjoyed the structure and the simplicity of the days and nights there. What would have seemed routine and boring back home with Gramma Louise and Grandpa Lewis, on the farm, seemed enlightened. I even enjoyed the physical work on the farm. It was hard, but it felt good to use my body to accomplish something. Chores were fun. It was also true that the sooner all chores were done, the sooner we’d get back into Grandpa’s stories.

  I also loved spending time with the animals. I found myself wandering down to the barn whenever I could get away from Darby. Luckily, Grandma had girlie things to show Darby. That was always my cue to get away. Go down to the barn and be alone with the animals.

  I always wanted a pet growing up. A snake or a rabbit or something of that sort, but my parents wanted me to wait until they felt I was old enough to be responsible for taking care of an animal. “Caring for a life is a big responsibility,” my dad told me. Then, my parents promised that on my eleventh birthday, they would buy me the animal of my choice that I could keep in my room. I was planning on getting a turtle.

  When my parents died, so did that promise. Gramma Louise did not believe in keeping animals.

  “They smell,” Gramma Louise would say. “There is no way you are keeping anything here.” It didn’t even matter what it was. Whether it was a turtle or a snake or a rabbit, or a fish, it was all the same.

  Aunt Jane piggybacked on the idea and said, “If you can’t keep it there, then you cannot keep it here.” No real excuse. Darby knew how much it meant to me. So much so that all Darby wanted for her birthday was a pet for me. She knew what our parents had promised me. She also knew my anxiety was starting to boil over. We both knew I was starting to lose my ability to hold it together. No matter, Darby’s pleading with our aunt and Gramma fell on deaf ears. No one wanted to listen.

  When our birthday finally arrived, Gramma gave us a video game console. Aunt Jane gave us video games. It was not anything our parents would have even considered. It was not something either of us wanted. It only reminded us that our parents were not there for that birthday. We never even touched the video games, much to Gramma’s frustration.

  When we learned, we were coming to the farm for the summer, I wondered what animals they had on the farm. Gramma Louise never knew. She said she didn’t care to ask.

  “You two should probably just try and stay out of the way. And stay out of that barn. I don’t want you coming back with anything like hoof and mouth disease or worms before school starts.”

  The denial of having pets ended on the farm. I was quick to volunteer to be responsible for feeding the barn animals in the morning. Although I admit that I left the cleaning up of the stalls to Fitch. Somewhat lacking in true responsibility, I now know.

  Each morning, Grandma Mimi prepared a pail for Oyster. It was typical pig food, scraps from breakfast, the garden, some dog kibble, and a can of oysters, of course. Oyster, unlike other pigs, didn’t instantly scarf down his food. He waited until I grabbed the hand can opener. Grandma told me I had to open the can in front of the pig. “This way, he knows you are giving him the freshest available,” she said. It was the only way he wanted them. Grandma told us Grandpa and Fitch had spoiled the pig terribly with those fresh oysters. This was the predicament we were left with because of that. “We’re lucky the canned variety is acceptable.”

  Once the can was opened and immediately dumped in the trough with juice and all, Oyster would eat his food. I tested the theory and didn’t feed him his oysters one morning, and sure enough, the pig didn’t eat. He left the scraps and kibble for the flies. It went untouched. The next morning, I added a can of oysters to the food from the day before and the morning’s serving. He scarfed it all down – both the old and new food.

  Romeo always got a scoop of goat pellets from a large bag of goat food. I added some alfalfa for him to nibble. He always went for the alfalfa first. I’d sit and watch him nipple each stem one at a time quickly through his teeth. It was fun to watch. Watching Oyster was always filled with a level of uneasy disgust and nausea. The mix of oyster juice, scraps, and dog food was stomach-turning, but he sure liked it.

  Of all the animals, I enjoyed Romeo best. Romeo was always full of energy and playful whenever I was around. He didn’t respond the same to Darby, and I liked knowing he liked me the best. I’d climb up on the railing of the fence of his outside pen and sit there for hours. I liked watching as Romeo bucked himself around the pen, showing off for me.

  I’d watch Romeo happily play in the leaves that fell from an adjacent oak tree. As he jumped for the leaves, he’d roll completely over, somewhat out of control, right onto his back and then all the way over again. The goat just lay there a little dizzy from the experience and then positioned himself again to make another pounce in the opposite direction. He did it over and over again, never losing heart at what he was chasing. It was hysterical to watch, and on a couple of occasions, I joined in on the leaf tumbling.

  I’d talk to the dwarf goat as if he were a friend, a confidant, and a secret keeper. One time, I told him, “When you play like that, it reminds me of all the fun I used to have. Things haven’t been much fun this year, except for being here with you all.”

  Romeo looked at me straight in the eye and bleated at me. Calling me to hug him. As I climbed over the railing to get into the pen with Romeo, something I had done countless times before, I heard, “Careful, he can be a wild one.”

  I looked back, and it was Fitch.

  “What? He’s harmless,” I said.

  Fitch returned. “You’re up early this morn’n.”

  “I wanted to get my chores done, you know, to spend some time in here.”

  “I hear you on that one. It’s s’pose to be a hot one today.” Fitch grabbed his wadded-up cap out of his back pocket and forcefully tried to get the hat to go on over his head of mangled hair.

  “You’ve really taken to this here, goat. Ain’t ya?” Fitch asked.

  “He’s a lot of fun.”

  Fitch added, “Sure is a playful thing. But be careful; he has his independence about him. I would hate to see you get in with him and him get the better of you.

  I said, “I doubt he’d want to do anything like that to hurt me.”

  “You’d be surprised at what you think can’t hurt you that does. Romeo may not mean to hurt you, but he might. He may not know any better.”

  This warning just felt like another adult telling me something to watch out for. If Fitch knew what was going on inside and what I had already been through, nothing beyond the past seemed to really have any lasting hurtful effect. It all seemed to be glossed over with the one thing that continued to sting me in life then.

  “I sure am glad you and your sister came up here this summer,” Fitch continued. “I know what this has meant to your grandparents and their loss.”

  I didn’t know what to say. My mind immediately went to what about our loss? I just sat and listened on the outside of the pen and watched Romeo make another attempt at whatever it is he was chasing. Only this time, I didn’t laugh.

  “That goat, I wonder what gets in his head sometimes,” Fitch said, shaking his head back and forth.

  Darby walked up. “I was waiting for you,” she said. “What happened?’

  “I was just talking to Fitch,” I said, a little annoyed that she thought I needed to check in with her.

  She asked, “Fitch?” She looked around.

  Fitch had disappeared into the barn somewhere, I figured. Of course, I looked like an idiot to my sister.

  Luckily for me, Grandma Mimi walked up to the barn with two metal pails.

  “You two all done with your chores?” Mimi asked.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Darby answered.

  “Well then, I thought we’d all go for a walk and pick some berries. Grandpa had to go into town and take care of something at the bank.”

  “Berries?” I asked. This didn’t sound at all interesting to me.

  “Yes, berries,” Grandma said. “Up beyond the edge of the north part of the property, some wild raspberries are growing. I think they just might be about ripe now. I want to make some jelly, and thought I would make you two kids some dried fruit snacks. And if there is enough, I can make a pie for after dinner.”

  Pie was certainly more interesting than just berries. Grandma handed each of us a small pail and began walking up the small dirt path that went from the barn up to the northwest section of the property. This part of the farm went up to the top of the hill and ended where the hill began to crest. Fitch and Grandpa Jack had fixed the fencing along this back part of the farm so that the neighbor’s free-roaming horses would not end up on the property.

  At the northwest corner was a gate that opened onto a dirt footpath, which hugged the property lines of the neighboring farms in the area. The path went down to a green grass meadow and a creek. Eventually, the green grass got taller and taller and then disappeared under a wild vine growing on both sides of the path. The vine was a wild raspberry. Sweet off-the-vine raspberries that you couldn’t help but pop in your mouth. It was hard to put them all in the pail. I worked out in my head, two for the pail and one for me every time.

  The sweet smell of the fruit was alive, and the sound of the nearby birds harvesting the sweet treat sounds like a summer song in my head to this day. The air around the berries was filled with birds, butterflies, and bees as they all flew around the vines in a dizzy pattern around us. The memory of raspberry picking often feels like it came out of a book in my mind.

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  As we picked, Darby said, “Grandma, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure. What is it, dear?”

  “What do you make of all the stories Grandpa is telling us?”

  “Well,” Grandma thought as she reached for the higher vines, leaving the low ones for us. “If you are asking me if I believe them, of course, I do. I lived them.”

  “So you believe the stories…and in giants?” Darby questioned.

  “Of course I do,” Grandma said without even a second thought. She didn’t even stop what she was doing to answer. She kept on picking and talking like the answer was a simple reality and not anything that needed further pondering.

  I couldn’t help but ask, “Have you ever seen a giant?” as I popped another berry in my already full mouth.

  “I’ll leave that up to your grandpa to tell. I don’t want to ruin it.”

  I knew what she meant. It would be like skipping ahead in the book or to the end to find out what happens without taking the time and enjoying reading up to the end.

  Darby asked, “How come you believe?”

  “I’ve seen the proof they exist. I see the proof in your Grandpa Jack. He believes. Besides, history teaches us how they lived, doesn’t it? That is proof enough for me.”

  Darby asked, “Has Grandpa really seen one?”

  “What does he tell you?”

  “Well, I haven’t asked him.”

  “Why not? It’s best if you hear it from him.”

  I spoke up, mouth full of berries, “You know, he’s not the kind of person you just come out and ask a question of, Grandma. He’s not the easiest person to talk to sometimes.”

  Grandma Mimi laughed. “You may be right. You need to understand that your grandpa has been ridiculed for what he believes in for most of his life. This has hardened the man I married.”

  I added, “I’ll say.”

  “You know, your grandfather wasn’t even really used to children. In fact, when your daddy was born, Grandpa Jack didn’t know what to expect. His work took him away a lot, so he wasn’t always around. I guess he still isn’t used to kids. I will say that the two of you are helping change a lot of that. He seems really comfortable with the two of you. Comfortable enough to open himself up. That is something I never thought I’d see. Your Grandpa Jack is opening up again about his research and his journals.”

  I posed, “Did Dad know the stories?”

  Grandma thought about it for a minute. This was the first time she had stopped picking berries and had to think about her answer. “Well, I know when your daddy was a baby, when Grandpa Jack was home, he would rock your daddy in the rocking chair late at night. I would sometimes hear Jack talk to your daddy by the light of the moon. I heard him share some of his dreams with his son. Stuff he never even told me. I would hear him tell your daddy stories about what he called his adventures. But by the time your daddy had begun to grow up, he and Grandpa Jack began to grow apart. You see, your daddy wanted his daddy to be around more often. But Grandpa Jack’s work took him away from us much of the time. So I doubt your daddy really knew all the stuff Grandpa Jack is sharing with you. It is special.”

  It is always exciting when someone opens up a channel to your parents past that you didn’t know and perhaps would never have known. I like the fact that Grandma Mimi was not afraid to share stories about our dad with us. This was not something that Gramma Louise ever did about our mother. We were always far too protective to ever ask. We didn’t want to upset Gramma Louise. Grandma Mimi was different. She was the first adult to talk straight to us since the death of our parents.

  “Grandma,” Darby asked. “When daddy was growing up, did you stay home to be with him when Grandpa Jack was gone?”

  Grandma Mimi smiled. “Of course, I did. Before your daddy was born, I went wherever your grandpa did. We followed his quest and, in some cases, my own. Some of these adventures, as your grandpa likes to call them, became both ours. In fact, I traveled with Grandpa right up until I was as big as a beach ball, and the doctors told me I needed to settle down.

  Once we found out that your daddy was on the way, Grandpa and I moved into a bigger house in Iowa City. We both had teaching jobs there at the university. That is where your daddy was born in Iowa. Did you know that?”

  Neither Darby or I knew our dad was born in Iowa.

  “But as soon as your grandpa received his next research grant, he was gone.”

  Darby asked, “Was it hard on you with Grandpa gone so much?”

  “At times. The winters in Iowa were the worst. But I had my sister there with me to help.”

  Darby thought for a minute, “You mean Aunt May?”

  Grandma Mimi was impressed. “Oh yes, that’s right, you knew her.”

  Darby then said, “That’s right. We saw you at her funeral.”

  I turned around quickly and looked at Darby.

  Grandma Mimi was caught off guard. She knew what this implied, and she didn’t know what to say.

  I also knew what Darby was up to and interrupted immediately, “I bet it was hard on Daddy that Grandpa Jack was gone all the time.”

  Grandma answered, “It was. It was hard on him.”

  Darby then asked, somewhat angrily, “Why was it so important for Grandpa Jack to search for the giants?”

  Grandma turned around to look at both of us. The sunlight hit her face, glowing as she spoke, without anger, “It is what Grandpa Jack was meant to do. It was his calling.”

  Darby asked, “His calling? What is a calling?”

  “It’s that drive within you that supernaturally leads you to be who you were meant to be.”

  Back at the house, Grandma was washing the berries in the sink and had mason jars on the stovetop being boiled and sterilized for the jelly.

  Darby, with confidence, asked, “How did you meet Grandpa?”

  Grandma Mimi smiles and continues to swirl the berries around in the colander in the sink. “Your grandpa and I met when we were both preparing our dissertations for our doctorate degrees. We were both working and studying at the same university. I was preparing my thesis on the role of women in European history. Your grandfather was preparing his role in mythology in history.”

  “What was he like when you met him?” Darby asked.

  Grandma continued to swirl the berries in the colander one more time. “He was so handsome. He was so wrapped up in his work even back then. I would see him in the library, feverishly writing. I couldn’t help but stare at him. I would often go to the library to work on my own thesis and would always have to look around and see if he was there. He always seemed to be there. His hair was a mess, and his clothes were wrinkled. It was like he was too busy working that he paid little attention to anything else.

  One day, when I was leaving, I bravely slid him a note. I couldn’t think of anything else to do. I was certainly not brave enough to say something to him directly. As I passed him, I tossed the note down on the page he was writing on, and I just kept walking.

  Later, he told me that I didn’t see, but he turned around and watched me as I left. He said he was mad at first that someone had interrupted his thought process when he was on a roll. Then he watched me as I walked out, and he said he was taken by me. He read the note, and his whole perspective changed. The next time I saw him in the library, I noticed his hair was combed, and his clothes were clean. I laughed. Pretty soon, we were sharing the same workspace in the library and helping each other with our dissertations. I became even more taken with him when I heard him talk about his ideas, his beliefs, and all his goals. I had never met a man with such high regard for ideas and so passionate about his own beliefs. His passion was so convincing that you couldn’t help but get wrapped up in his thoughts. You just wanted to be a part of them. Everyone who met him felt the same way.”

  Grandma removed the colander from the sink and shook it off a couple of times before pouring the ripe berries on a clean dish towel on the counter to dry.

  Darby asked, “Was Bayne impressed the same way?”

  It was clear it was a name Grandma Mimi had not heard of in some time.

  “I suppose so. When your Grandpa Jack talks about something he is passionate about, he can convince just about anyone of anything. Even though Grandpa Jack doesn’t think he is a great speaker, it is his passion for what he is saying that is so dynamic and convincing.”

  Darby then used the opportunity to change the subject. “Grandma, I want to ask about you and Grandpa, and the funeral.”

  I froze. I couldn’t believe she was asking this. Immediately, I was flooded with anxious feelings, fearing confrontation.

  “Oh,” Grandma was puzzled about what to say.

  “Yeah,” Darby continued. “Why did you and Grandpa choose not to come to the funeral for Mom and Dad?”

  There was an uncomfortable pause. I wanted to jump in and say something to end it. But Darby, without thinking about what she was saying, asked, “Grandma, did you love Daddy?”

  Grandma Mimi answered immediately, “Of course, I did and still do. I loved your daddy very much.”

  Darby didn’t let up. "So why didn't you and Grandpa attend the funeral?"

  Grandma answered, “It is complicated.” She turned and took Darby by the hand and sat her down at the kitchen table facing her. I stood by watching. It was clear to me that this was meant to be between Darby and Grandma.

  “You see,” Grandma said, “When you lose someone or something, life does not just stop. And your grandfather had work to do. Work that he felt could not wait. It was just poor timing. No, that is an excuse.” Grandma Mimi thought about it and shook her head.

  She stumbled over her words as she continued, “Here is the thing. Your grandfather made some, let’s say, poor choices. Your grandfather’s work had always been his priority - his calling. There were things in his life that, because of his calling, became no less important but were not always his first choice. Unfortunately, your daddy felt like Grandpa did not put him at the top of his list. This hurt your daddy very much. It put a strain on the relationship between your daddy and your grandpa. With time, the two grew further and further apart. So much so that neither of these smart and remarkable men knew how to bridge the widening gap between them. So when it came time for the funeral, your grandpa, having other things as a priority in his life, used those as a reason for not attending the funeral. Not because it was really more important, but because he neglected to make his son a priority. It is regrettable.”

  Grandma Mimi teared up. Her eyes looked like shiny glass marbles. “Great loss is sad, but regret and loss are heartbreaking.”

  Grandma Mimi continued, “I was very sad when your daddy and mommy died. I loved your daddy so much. I raised him and loved him and was proud of the man he was. Just like I am proud of you kids as well.” She put her arm around Darby at that point and reached out for me.

  She continued, “But I also loved my husband very much. It was too hard for him, for us, to go. So, we didn’t. It was a mistake. One I have to live with.”

  “I am going to give you some advice, Darby,” she said. “Do not let grief cloud your judgment. Your faith must only be made stronger by setbacks and the losses you face. Your parents loved you very much, and you loved them. But your life is important, and you must not let their death or our mistakes surpass the choices you make. It was a mistake for us not to attend the funeral of our only son. It was not the first mistake we made in his life, but unfortunately, it was the last.

  Grandma Mimi was sad. I knew it was also sad for Darby. It is not the answer she had hoped for. It was not the answer that she had played out in her mind before asking. She did not understand what her grandmother was telling her. Yet, she appreciates that her grandma was talking to her candidly about the death of her parents and not making excuses for not answering. Grandma Mimi talked to us like people.

  Darby then shared, “I understand loss. When Mom and Dad died, I felt like I could not go on. I didn’t know what Darius and I were going to do. Were we going to be orphans and have to live with strangers? Or were we going to be all alone? It felt like life was ending.”

  Darby had never even expressed these things to me before. Grandma Mimi began to rub Darby’s back as she let Darby continue to speak. “When Grandpa was telling us about Greece, I first thought about the men who died while you were in Greece. I thought about their families and how their children must have felt when their fathers did not come home. Then I thought about Grandpa and how he must have felt about it. And how he must have felt being betrayed and being so close and then losing it all. He must have been really sad about it all.”

  Grandma Mimi commented, “He was. It was so sad for me to see him like that. He didn’t look like the man I married. He was always a man full of life and energy, and excitement. After the accident, he was just sad. Then we went to Italy, and I watched him begin to spring back to life, and I thought, thank goodness. I think you learn to take life as it is and bounce back. Grandpa Jack has had to bounce back again and again and again. I think we all have to.”

  Darby then said, “I feel the same way about being here this summer. It seemed like when we were bouncing back and forth between Vegas and our Aunt Jane’s, we were in a fog. Not quite living and not quite dead. I remember when our class hamsters at school died. A girl in our class had been caring for them over the weekend, and she said she did not know what had happened. She said that last night they seemed to be sleeping, but at the same time they seemed to be dying. You know, not quite alive and not quite dead. Then the next morning, when she checked on them, they were dead. I knew what she meant. It was exactly how I thought we had been living. Then we came here, and it really feels different. You know what I mean?”

  “I sure do, honey.”

  “Darius thinks this place is magical”, Darby confessed. I couldn’t believe she was betraying our trust in someone else.

  “He’s right,” Grandma said. My anger quickly melted away to gratification. Ha! Now, Darby had heard it from two of us.

  Grandma Mimi continued, “It’s been even more magical since you and your brother came here.”

  She wrapped us both up in one of her famous group hugs. It was comforting.