Eight

Page from Jennie's Book,
Jesus, Lover of my Soul

 

But Jay was in no mood to make cornbread when he got home. As it turned out, he arrived soon after four p.m.

“Jay! I can see something is disturbing you. The door nearly splintered when you slammed it!”

The normally mildly
mannered, immaculately groomed young man looked nothing like he had when he left that morning.

“I don’t want to talk about it. And I’m not hungry, so I will be in my room.”

Soon thereafter, John appeared, opening and closing the front door more gently, but with some difficulty, for the wind outside was growing fierce and the snow had begun in earnest.

Glad that both boys were home, Jennie poured three cups of tea, handing one to John as he came into the kitchen, giving his sister a hug.

“I’m taking this into Jay. Today apparently did not go well for him; maybe you can find out why. Or maybe I’ll try.”

Jennie stirred in two heaping teaspoons of sugar into her own tea, but left Jay’s as is before she made her way into the bedroom he shared with John. Once their father left for Chillicothe, their stepmother long gone, Jennie moved her things into the abandoned bedroom to stake her claim. But now she turned right instead of left, knocking before entering but not waiting for an assent.

She set down the teacup on the table which served as a desk, then stepped back and placed a hand upon her brother’s shoulder.

“Sometimes it helps to talk about it. Even a little.”

Jay Stark

Jay turned in his seat far enough for Jennie to see a partial profile of the chiseled face she found so handsome. It was curious he could have all the finest features one could extract from their parents, while she possessed none. Their brother John had “character,” meaning he was not unattractive by virtue of the fact of his lopsided grin which nearly always was present and his twinkling eyes. How could it be fair that the boys—for whom good looks were not important—would get them nonetheless, while she had to work doubly hard on intelligence and wit to be taken for anything but a mouse.

A thought occurred to her. What if she had been beautiful? Would not she have been more limited? Would not people have expected her to be sweet, get married young, and not have an intelligent thought? Her lips slanted to reveal a smirk. No, the way God had granted physical gifts worked out well. She would opt for the ones she possessed any time.

“It should not have bothered me,” Jay began. He turned back to look out the window at the worsening conditions. “I’ll make sure we have enough wood inside. That does not look promising out there.”

He pushed past his sister whose head was cocked to one side, curiously concerned. She followed, a few feet behind him, allowing him a distance with which she thought would not disturb him further.

Jay had a system. There was a woodpile made high by his and John’s efforts in the warmer months which was about ten feet from the door. But when the weather permitted, they took logs and twigs from furthest away and moved those right next to the back door so in harsher weather, they needn’t go far to retrieve enough wood to keep warm. Jay grabbed several logs, while John held the door, then John went out, too. They knew to prepare against what was shaping up to be a monster storm.

After stacking the additional wood inside the kitchen, John added another log and joined the other two at the table, chuckling. “So… how’s the weather? And other mundane things besides asking the obvious as to what is getting to Jay.”

“It’s a doozy out there,” smirked Jennie, joining in the fun.

“Okay, okay. How can I remain mad with the two best people in the world making light?”

Jay let out a long sigh and took a sip. He popped up to refresh his cup, which had gotten cold. “Anyone else?”

Both Jennie and John slid their cups over. And waited for what they hoped would be an adequate explanation for what had gotten their affably sweet-tempered brother in such a mood.

“Okay, okay. I can see you two might be slightly subtle, but you won’t give up until I tell you. Well, let’s just say it has to do with Pops. And someone who used to work with him saying something unkind. And,” he drew a deep breath, “he was not wrong. Which made me even more angry. All these years of trying to figure Pa out. Understand him, love him all the same as we have been taught by our grandparents. But I think even they have their limit. Did you notice how Grandpa Stark spoke to him when last we were home? And how Pa left and didn’t come back?”

Although the family had lived in Columbia several years now, they still thought of the Stark farm as “home.” When their friends asked about going home, all understood it was the farm just outside of Laclede, Missouri, two train connections away or a carriage ride of over three hours on a good day with two horses. None of them yet knew how long an automobile would take, though they each had friends wealthy enough for the family to afford one.

“Well, Jay,” said Jennie. “One thing we cannot fault Pa for. He has always listened to us about going where we needed to in order to get the best education.”

“You mean, he listened to you. We all followed.” John winked at his sister. “Not that I’m complaining. It is always an adventure.” He looked over at Jay.

“Jay, it was good for you, too, right? Where else could you have been involved in a debate club where you could hone yourself into a champion? Even making the papers! Now you will be able to always hold your own with bankers or businessmen when your farm needs you to.”

At the mention of having his own farm, Jay finally smiled. Slowly. Slightly. But it was there.

“Yep. It won’t be long. I’m working up the courage to ask Grandpa for help in buying one. I’ve hinted at it, more than once. But I won’t directly ask again until the time is right.”

“You mean, Jay,” interjected Jennie, “when our father’s money woes don’t take front and center.”

There it was. Someone finally taking on a direct reference to the problems their father brought down upon them all.

Jay clenched his fists. “Old man Wright didn’t have to say much today. And I think he actually was trying to compliment me. He said it was refreshing to have a dependable Stark working for him. I guess I was not in the mood to hear it. I had been laying down sand on the street since dawn, and I was already tired by mid-morning. And hungry.”

Jay glanced over at Jennie. “I ran out of here without breakfast today, taking only a biscuit in my pocket. I was going to be late if I had stayed for porridge. Which means,” he lit up, “I am starved! When will that soup be ready?”

“If it is going to be good, it will be hours. Look, why don’t we help you make some cornbread? We can nibble on your leftover biscuits in the meantime, slathered with what is left of the blueberry jam.”

“If you’ll excuse me, I think three is too many for that effort. I have some homework to tend to.”

“Ha! John! Since when do you care about homework?

John Stark

Especially since it is unlikely you will have school tomorrow. I know you will find some other way to avoid being in here, helping.”

John picked up a tea towel and flicked it at his sister, nearly missing her eye.

“Good thing I have on my glasses, John.” Jennie was reddening. Sometimes her brother’s antics were thoughtless. Or especially careless. Wearing glasses was a part of who she was, she thought. She had them since being young, once it became obvious her eyesight was very weak. She was never without them if awake.

Behind the two glass orbs, her eyes appeared enormous. They seemed to take up most of her face; an optical illusion. Several times over the years, people had urged her to take off her glasses just for a moment.

“There’s a real beauty hiding there,” one of her aunts once said. “It’s a shame more won’t be able to see it if you always have these on. Can’t you just remove them occasionally?”

Jennie, Without
Visible Glasses
1918 (Retouched)

“Then I won’t be able to gauge their meaning of the words they say. I’ll miss the subtext, and that is everything!” Jennie protested.

Long aware of how people judged each other on the basis of appearances, Jennie felt superior in the knowledge that beauty fades. Is misleading. Doesn’t speak to intelligence or character. Although, she thought, eyes can often convey a higher ability to comprehend. Those “bright eyes” of which some speak.

Jenny arose and put her teacup aside for the moment. No need to wash it just yet. She checked on the soup and moved it halfway off the stovetop to a side compartment which contained an oven. The oven not yet being used, it was not hot and its top allowed a respite from the heat. She did not wish to scorch the soup, desiring it to simmer instead.

“Jay, if you don’t mind, I wish to go look at a book in my room. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind making the cornbread by yourself?”

“Jennie, I have long done so. Abandon me as you will.” Jay winked, but Jennie observed it was something he forced. The two of them often tried to emulate their cheery younger brother who could easily wink convincingly.

From a shelf between her desk and her bed, Jennie retrieved a well-loved diminutive volume, Jesus, Lover of My Soul. Her grandparents gave it to her when she was twelve. It was meant to comfort her, perhaps, or maybe they just liked that it was a beautifully illustrated version of hymn lyrics by Charles Wesley, Jennie loved every aspect of it.

Today, what comforted her was the illustration of a cottage. It looked so inviting, painted in a scene that evoked summer before things got too hot. Or maybe late spring.

It had a thatched roof and stone walls, and Jennie wondered if such a place was like what her great-grandfather would have been familiar.

She wished she knew more of Peter Stark’s childhood in Ireland.