Twenty-Nine

 

Jennie sat on top of her trunk, situated on Grandfather Stark’s front porch. Rather, she reminded herself, it was Grandmother Stark’s porch since the house was “hers.” She assumed, technically, that the entire farm and house were “theirs” but also recognized the clear delineation of each grandparent’s domain.

However, as of late, Grandfather was not seeing to the farm the way he used to. Rather, it was Uncle Dave and a farm hand, and it was for those two Jennie awaited help with her trunk. She and Aunt Lizzie got a ride from the train station from a neighbor they hailed, one who drove a Model T Ford. It was not the first time either lady had been in an automobile, but they had not before witnessed a heavy trunk being strapped to the back. Over every bump on the way home, they feared the trunk would fall off.

On the way past the fields to Grandmother’s house, Jennie spied Uncle Dave and waved. She attempted to indicate the trunk on the back was hers and that she would need help but was uncertain he understood. It looked like he was headed home after a long day in the fields, in the opposite direction. She wondered if curiosity might bring him over to Grandfather’s house, though.

As Jennie waited, Grandfather Stark emerged from the house.

“Miss Jennie! We were not expecting you just yet. Your decision to come home must have been very recent. Maybe yesterday?”

“Oh, Grandfather!” Jennie jumped up and bounded to the front door where he stood. She stooped and buried her head in his chest, then looked at his face which now was slightly below hers. Aging can be unkind. Grandfather was never tall, but each day now, he seems to have shrunk.

“Actually, I made up my mind this very morning.” Jennie squinted, partially because of the setting sun, but also because she was considering what she was going to say.

“Were you able to eat on the train?”

“No, Grandfather. Aunt Lizzie and I did not bring anything with us, and the train we switched to from Moberly to here only goes to Kansas City, so it does not have a dining car.”

“Then, you must be starving! Why don’t we go inside? Ella can find you some vittles.”

That Grandfather had not mentioned Grandmother, and because she hadn’t come to her graduation concerned her. But she decided not to inquire.

In the kitchen, Ella was at the sink, finishing up the evening’s dishes. “Oh! I thought I heard someone coming up the lane in one of those contraptions! So glad, but surprised, to see you so soon, Jennie. My hands are wet, or I’d hug you. I think I heard Pa ask you about food? Well, I have not put away the bread, of course. And there is half a pork chop I was about to throw to the dogs, but it is yours if you want it.”

As Ella spoke, Jennie grabbed the bread and a knife and sliced a thick piece. Peach jam was also on the table and she slathered it onto the bread.

“Oh, Ella, this bread is better than I remembered! Did you or Grandmother make it?”

Ella and J.K. exchanged glances which appeared to convey, what shall we say?

“What am I missing? Is Grandmother all right?” Jennie realized that in the excitement over her graduation, she had not inquired of her Grandmother except in general. She remembered a mention of some slight malady but paid no attention.

“After you eat, why don’t you go upstairs and see for yourself?”

As Jennie devoured first one, then two, then three slices of bread with jam, she considered how—though it would be the polite thing to do to inquire after her grandmother—she first wanted to speak to her grandfather who sat on the opposite end of the table, biting into an apple.

Jennie noticed how J.K. bit from one side of his mouth and how he was chewing slowly and carefully, sometimes wincing. She didn’t know how she had missed noticing all the signs that her grandparents were not as hale as they once were.

Now in their seventies, Jennie realized they should be showing signs they were getting on in age. These were people who essentially raised her, so she had considered them as parents who would be one generation younger. But there was no longer any escape from recognizing their infirmities.

“Grandfather,” Jennie finally said, having swallowed her last bite, “I wonder if we might sit on the front porch again? Or, maybe we could take a short walk? I have something I want to talk to you about.”

Ella arched an eyebrow, wiped her hands on her apron, and folded her arms over her chest. “Pa isn’t up to much walking, Jennie. He wore himself out in Columbia, and by suppertime, it was all he could do to climb the stairs to bed.”

“Oh, of course.” Jennie grew crimson from her inconsideration. “Grandfather, my goodness. It just makes me realize all the more how special it was that you came all that way to see my graduation. Climbing those steps at Jesse Hall, up to the balcony, must have been so taxing!”

“What’s done is done,” stated Ella as she exited the kitchen. Jennie could hear her steps pausing, then the front door opening. “I’ll go see what I can do about your trunk, Jennie,” she called back.

Jennie felt torn. She wanted dearly to talk to her grandfather but felt obligated to check on her belongings. Though she knew Ella could drag the trunk inside, she felt she should at least help. But J.K. motioned for her to stay seated.

“Ella will call for help if she needs it. I feel there is something important on your mind.”

“I’ll get right to it, then. How much have you known about my father? About his marriages? About his behavior all these years? Oh, Grandfather, no wonder you and Aunt Ella and Grandmother looked after me and the boys. And how hard it must have been to see us go off to Chillicothe, then Columbia!”

James Knox Stark took a deep breath. Then another. He had hoped to avoid this discussion. Every day since his youth when he realized why he was marrying Miss Sevilla Bittinger, he resolved he would find the best in everything. Sevilla had unfailing optimism, borne of her faith, and it saved him, he truly believed. Though he did not always avoid difficult situations and conversations, he did put off those he thought could wait. But this was one which could no longer.

“Granddaughter…Jennie, I do not find it particularly useful to delve into the past where it is hurtful. But you are an adult now, embarking upon an exciting new life. I am curious, though. Why did you come home today?”

J.K. suspected Jennie’s reasoning, but he wondered at what level they would discuss all that the past few days’ revelations would bring.

Jennie sighed. “I suppose you are right, Grandfather. And I have always looked to you and to Grandmother’s example of finding the good in everyone. But…,” Jennie’s tears appeared in the corners, “I am so weary, Grandfather. Exhausted. Worrying about Father used to consume me, years ago. I could not be like Johnny, laughing off everything. Nor could I be quietly stoic like Jay. So, I decided at some point to just ignore him. Put him out of my head. And set my mind to making my life entirely different.”

The lines on J.K.’s forehead smoothed. “And you brilliantly succeeded in that, Jennie. Your accomplishments are astounding!”

“Oh, Grandfather, I had no honors. I didn’t even have very good marks, I’m sorry to admit.”

“But, Jennie, you accomplished what no other in our family or in the Gardner family has, and you did it without a mother and with a father who…” his voice trailed off.

“Grandfather, I guess…”

Jennie paused. There was little use anymore in going over the past. There was the future to consider!

“I wonder, Grandfather, if you have advice for me. It occurs to me you came all the way from Maryland  to Missouri just after a terrible war, and you built this farm up from almost nothing. If anyone has accomplished anything, it is you!”

J.K. placed his elbow on the table, chin on his palm, as he considered what to say. He straightened, then grabbed a cane hanging from the back of his chair.

“Come, Jennie. Let’s take that walk.”

#

Once out the back door, Jennie helped her grandfather carefully maneuver the steps. The two plodded gingerly along the well-worn path leading to the barn and beyond. “Grandfather, we can stop and go back anytime. You just let me know.”

J.K. patted Jennie’s arm. “I have been thinking about any advice I could impart, and I’d say that life gives us second chances. It is what you do with those which can determine whether your path leads to the fruitful garden.”

“Or elsewhere.”

“Yes. Or somewhere else…”

The two paused as J.K. pointed to the skies, still crimson just after sun dipped below the horizon. “The skies as the sun sets always amaze me, Jennie.” He turned to her then back to the view before them. “God delights us at least as often as He allows the difficulties. But it is through those trials that we learn. To do better.”

Jennie leaned her head sideways to her grandfather’s shoulder as he put his arm around her.

“So, Jennie, I think you can make whatever you wish to out of your life. Opportunities are there for you. And though I have found having a helpmeet has made my life infinitely easier, I do not believe marriage is a necessary component.”

Jennie straightened and studied her grandfather’s face. “Really?”

“Well, I will say this about your Father… Do you think marriage—other than to your mother—has been the answer to his troubles?”