Long Road Back
Snow had dumped on the little town of Innocence for three days. Thomas Digby had been out every day, clearing the walk to his front door. His neighbours cleared across the front. Town bylaws stated that residents had to keep sidewalks clear in the front of their properties. Even though it was town property! There were days when he continued on to meet up with George Harwell from next door. The air punctuated with frozen puffs, they leaned on their shovels, complained about the snow, city bylaws, decided on the politics of the day and talked about the seed catalogues that would be arriving. Their wives called it 'hot air', minimizing their serious discussions about what really mattered. But they laughed and threw their wives’ chatter at their hen parties back at them. Returning to his front porch, he leaned his old red shovel up against the wall where he kept it, ready for the next snow fall. “I’m getting too old for this. James really was the smart one. Staying on the Island where snow comes and goes before there’s enough to shovel.” The aroma of fresh coffee greeting him when he opened the front door. “Sonja! Anything to eat with that coffee?”
From the back of the house came “Don’t know, Thomas. You’ll have to look and see what’s left in our cupboards. When are you going to pack?” Multicoloured toque with earflaps and ridiculous looking pompom thrown aside, he took his heavy gloves and big parka off. Hanging the parka up, the gloves went the way of his toque. Muttering he said “If that toque hadn’t been made by George’s granddaughter…………” Following his wife’s directions, he headed to the kitchen, got out two mugs and began a hunt for something to snack on. Cupboard doors opening and closing, he finally found a half empty box of stale cookies. “Good thing we’re going out for supper tonight.” More muttering.
“Thom, are you sure the roads will be ok in the morning? It’s pretty piled up out there.” Sonja had never been all that thrilled about winter travel unless it was in a snowmobile and only about ten miles out of town. Coming back to hot drinks and a warm fire with two other couples for a cosy, fun evening was much better. But…Thom needed to see his brother again, his home again. And he promised much warmer weather and maybe even snowdrops and daffodils poking their heads out of the ground.
~~~~~
Weeks before, James awoke still thinking of Thom’s letters. Martha, already up, had left him to sleep. He could hear her in the kitchen rattling around getting their breakfast ready. He had up on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees and rubbed his face, daring his eyes to open. It had been a late night, but he faintly remember the ping of his laptop. Or had he just imagined it. Wishful thinking he and his brother still had their …..what did they call it……. ‘brain lines’? Martha had put his plaid housecoat at the end of the bed, his slippers on the floor. “Such a sweet woman.” He shook his head. “Why did I wait so long to marry her?” Hands on his knees, he pushed himself up, shaking off the call of the warm blankets. Housecoat on, he tidied his hair, slipped on his slippers went into the hall. “You up, James? Your tea’s ready and the porridge is just about done.”
“I’ll be right there, dear. I just have to check something in the office.” The next thing Martha heard was her name being called. “Oh, my goodness! James are you all right? I’m coming right away!” She had been stirring the porridge when he called. Flipping off the switch, she pushed the pot off the burner and at a run she went to her husband. “James! James! Are you all right?……….James?” There he was, his computer opened to his email. “Here, Martha, read this. It’s from Thomas. They’re coming….he and his wife Sonja!” Turning to his wife, his face as excited as she’d seen him since their wedding day, he said “He’s actually coming home! I’ll print out this email when I get to work. I’ll have to tell Cook there will be company. He won’t know anyone anymore. Well except me and Samuel. I’ll have to tell Samuel. Has Miss Dez moved into your house yet? Or will we put them up in the big house?”
“James, James….slow down. Come, sit down with me for breakfast. They can stay with us. We do have a guest room.” James switched off his computer. “You are quite right. I must not have been awake and settled just yet. Forgive my excitement, dear.” Composed now, he ran his hand over his hair and straightened his housecoat. Martha smiled at his obvious discomfort. She took his hand and led him like a child to the kitchen.
~~~~~
Over the next few weeks, James was distracted from Estate business and always finding things that needed fixing or painting. In the first week, Emelina just thought he was doing an inventory. Elizabeth was a bit more concerned; she thought there was something more to his constant inspection of everything. “Martha, what is going on with James?! He comes out of his office muttering, always closes and locks the door behind him. He never does that except when he’s going out. Then he starts. All through the kitchen - ‘these cupboards need painting, the table looks old and we should get a new one…I’ll have to talk to Miss Emelina about it.’ Then he goes in the mud room…. ‘I’ll have to tell Martha that it needs a good clean.’ Then it’s out to the veranda. I don’t know what needs fixing or painting out there. He takes a clipboard with him and is scribbling on it as he goes back to his office. Barely taking notice of me. If he wants coffee or tea, he takes it out here. Doesn’t take any into his office - he always takes a cup of coffee to his office.” On that day, she and Martha were talking over mugs of tea and fresh scones when Emelina was coming into the kitchen from outside. Putting her brief case down on a chair, she took a clean mug from the cupboard. “I noticed that as well, Martha. He came to me with this long list of repairs and updating that he wanted to get done in the next few weeks. If there are repairs he usually has already contacted several repairmen, set tentative dates and even has a list of supplies needed. He spaces work dates out, but this time it's different. He seems worried about something.” Martha just listened quietly, her face impassive, her amusement hidden.
When the two women had finished expressing their concerns, she took a last sip of her tea and told them all about James’ brother. They had not seen each other for forty years, and James hadn’t heard from him for about twenty years. His brother was coming home.
“Anticipation is a gift. Perhaps there is none greater.”
~ Steven L. Peck, A Short Stay in Hell
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