Monday, August 20, 2018

Ten Days at Federal Hill: Chapter Eleven

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Chapter Eleven: Abe

Velma Christopher had bigger concerns than some children’s muddy clothes. Grandmother Julia was unwell. She’d taken to her bed late Sunday afternoon while Velma was gone, weak and confused. This morning when her daughter-in-law had tried to rouse her, the old woman moaned, cried, and covered her head with the sheet. She had been this way before a few times, Velma remembered, and it lasted only a few days. But she needed constant attention. She was deeply depressed and fell into dark moods where no one seemed to be able to reach her. Velma pulled a chair beside the old lady’s bed and touched her gently on the shoulder.

“Grandma, it’s Velma.”

There was no response. There was never any response when she was like this.

“Just rest, Grandma. I’ll go get some breakfast for you and bring it up here. Maybe biscuits? I know you like biscuits. Tea?” She rubbed Grandmother Julia’s shoulder and tenderly traced her hairline, putting a few stray gray hairs into place behind her ear. Tracks of dried tears etched the older woman’s face. “I’ll bring Toby and Shamrock up too. They can keep you company on the bed.” Velma absently brushed a hand over the floral bedspread, sprinkled with roses, daises, and poppies. The dogs had spent many hours on this bed. This was the secret to helping Grandmother Julia recover – the dogs. Nothing reached her, nothing moved her and helped her regain her old self, like those two dogs. Velma felt a young hand on her arm.

“Mom, I’ll go get them.” It was Abe.

“Thank you, Abe! That’s a big help. You know how she loves the dogs. I’ll stay here until you come back.” She looked into her dark brown eyes. “How come you’re not outside playing with the big boys?”

“They sent me back. They’re working on the old truck.”

“Mmm.” His mother nodded. “Why not play with Julia and the cousins? I think they’re inside.”

His face soured. “Yeah. No … they’re doing their own thing. I didn’t get asked.”

She frowned at him and tousled his dark brown hair. “Abe! I’m surprised at you!” But she didn’t pursue it. “Okay, go get the pups. Hurry on, now!”

In a few minutes he returned with Shamrock in his arms and Toby trailing at his heels. Quick as a flash, Toby was in Grandmother Julia’s bed, standing guard beside her. Abe set Shamrock down on the bedspread. The cocker spaniel scooted up and curled behind the old woman’s knees. Soon she was rhythmically licking her paw.

“That’s better,” Velma said. “Now, I’ll go get her some breakfast, which she won’t eat. Will you stay until I get back?”

Abe nodded. He tucked his feet under him in the lumpy, upholstered chair, and watched his grandmother. In the stillness of the house her quiet breathing filled the room. Sometimes she whispered quietly and then cried a little. He heard his mother in the kitchen and the clinking of dishes and silverware. He knew she would return carrying the old wooden tray with a bowl of steaming oatmeal, buttered biscuits, a cup of hot tea, and a few strawberries. He listened again and could barely hear the voices from the attic. They were laughing, talking, sharing secrets, excluding him without thinking about it. He stroked Shamrock’s soft fur. Julia was the youngest, but somehow he was the one always left out.

His mother returned just as he knew she would. She persuaded one spoonful of oatmeal past the old woman’s lips, but then his grandmother withdrew even more, curling up and hugging the blanket to her chest. She tucked her head down and pursed her lips.

“She won’t eat,” Velma said. She sighed. Then they both heard an eruption of laughter from the attic. She looked at her youngest son. A cloud seemed to have darkened his face.

“Why don’t you go up there and just try?” she asked.

He frowned. “I’d rather stay here with you.”

“You and I both know that’s not true.” She placed the tray on a table. “Have you actually asked them?”

He shook his head. He wouldn’t look at her.

“Then go,” she said. “Don’t do the grumpy thing if you haven’t even asked.”

Abe shuffled out of the room and down the hall. He was suddenly quite grumpy. He hated his sister and resented his cousins. Then he heard them laugh again. It wasn’t fair they were having so much fun and he was so miserable! Abe went quietly up the steep attic stairs, turned down the low hallway tucked into the top of the house, and listened outside the door of the small end room where they were sat in a circle on the floor. He could not see them, but he could hear their voices. Cecil was telling a story about a house he’d been to, and Julia was bragging about crawling through a tunnel, and then Abe heard a voice he did not recognize, a boy’s voice. They were calling him Edward.

“That’s what the patch of cloth says,” Julia told him. “It might be your name.”

“All the other kids have names now,” Carla added. “Real names. Lucie let them pick them out.”

“I’d like to meet this Lucie, if she’s as nice as you say.”

Cecil laughed. “As nice as ….” He and Carla looked at each other. How could they communicate to him how different life was at Lucie’s house? Cecil began. He told Edward about his friends, about their lives now, the peace and safety there, the freedom to play games and ride horses and swim when they liked. Carla described the beautiful gardens and comfortable bedrooms, and Lucie’s wonderful meals. These concepts were lost on him.

“Edward, you really can’t know what it’s like until you go there,” Cecil finished.

“Then take me there. I’m not afraid!”

The four children sat in a tight circle on the floor. Carla spoke first. “Okay, we have to think about this house we’re in. If there’s a corresponding Federal Hill in Lucie’s world -”

“I never heard her mention it,” Cecil interrupted.

“Well, if there is, we have to think of the most likely ways to get there from here.”

“Why do you think there are three copies of each house?” Julia asked.

“Because Lucie always talked about them that way,” Cecil answered. “Actually, she talked about them as if the three were really one house – her house, our house, the workhouse. Just three radically different versions of one house. They were all laid out the same. The rooms and halls and … and dimensions were the same.”

Julia nodded. “Okay. So let’s assume my house has a sister house in Lucie’s world ….”

“A sister house. I like that!” Carla said.

“A sister house. It might or might not have the kitchen wing and the rooms above it, because those were added later,” Julia said. “Basically we’re talking about the big dining room, the entrance hall, the assembly room, and my parents’ bedroom. This nursery was added too.”

Carla interrupted. “Somehow I don’t think it would be smaller in Lucie’s world. Nothing seems smaller there. Everything seems bigger, more impressive.”

“How ‘bout these attic rooms,” Cecil said. “They’d be in the other houses. They’re old.”

“Yeah,” Julia answered. “Old and very dusty.” She swiped a finger slowly across the floor and blew a cloud of dust into the dim air. “Tell me,” and she looked at her cousins, “what are the different ways y’all traveled from your house to Lucie’s house?”

But she didn’t hear their answer. Instead, a thundering sneeze came from just outside the door.

“What?!” Cecil exclaimed. He raced to the door, yanked it open, and found his young cousin crouched outside. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here!” Abe belted out. “Just in case you’ve forgotten!” Then he craned his neck and looked around Cecil’s legs, peering at Edward. “And who exactly is that?”

(To continue reading the next chapter, please click here.)

[Ten Days at Federal Hill in its entirety is copyrighted by the author, M.K. Christiansen.)

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