CHAPTER 2
When Bertram got back to the farm, he brought the dogs into the barn. He set them down carefully, and then threw some fresh straw into an empty stall. He looked in the tack room and found an old blanket. In the far corner of the stall, he made a little bed, all the while talking softly to the dog.
When he was done, he coaxed the dog into the stall. She seemed to realize that this was all for her, so she carefully picked up her puppy and limped over to the blanket. Bertram looked at her paws and realized that the pads were all cracked.
Then he examined the pup. He was tiny and mostly black, but he had a little more white on his tail than his mother, and his front paws were white, too.
"I'll take care of your feet in a little while. First, you need some food and water. I'll be back in a jiffy, okay." As he talked, he stroked the dog's head and scratched her ears. She tilted her head in answer.
When he walked out of the barn, he stopped at the water trough and dipped his handkerchief in, wiping his brow and neck. Missouri was in the middle of a heat wave, and it showed no sign of breaking.
Walking into the kitchen, he saw his mother sitting at the table. "Hi, Ma, I'm home. Is Pa around?" As he talked, he looked through the pantry shelves and pulled out a chunk of bread. Then he opened the icebox to examine its contents. He spied a little piece of roast left from last night, and he pulled it out.
Ma Webb sipped at her lemonade as she scratched out a list of supplies that they needed. "He took the buggy over to Mrs. Alden's. He was worried about her in this heat." She looked up to find him rummaging through the icebox. "Land sakes, Bertram. What are you doing?"
"I found a dog by the river," he said, closing the icebox and clutching the bread and roast. "She's just skin and bones, and she's got a puppy to feed. I brought them home and put them in the barn. Do you think Pa will let me keep them . . . or maybe at least the mother?" He pulled out an old pot from the cupboard and headed back outside, with Ma following him. Stopping at the water trough, he filled the pot. Then the two of them headed toward the barn door.
Just before they entered, he looked up and saw Jeanine coming up the road on her bicycle.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you," Bertram said to his mother. "Jeanine is coming for some eggs." He nodded his head in Jeanine's direction.
"Hey, Jeanine," he hollered as she rolled into the yard. "I gotta get this stuff into the barn. Come on in." He kept walking through the barn doors, and Ma Webb stopped to wait for the girl.
"Hello, Jeanine. It's lovely to see you, dear," she said warmly.
"Good evening, Ma Webb," Jeanine answered. "I was hoping to get some eggs and maybe just a half-bottle of milk." Although the tree had taken her barn down, by good fortune, the Morse's cow was uninjured; but between the grief of having to bury her father, and now having no barn, the Webbs had offered to house her livestock at their farm until a new barn was built.
"Of course, dear, but I do believe Bertram is waiting for you in the back of the barn. He'll be anxious to show you what he brought home."
The two women walked into the barn. Sunbeams were peaking through cracks in the walls and the sounds were muffled. They could hear Bertram's voice murmuring softly in the back corner.
"Hi, Bertram," Jeanine called out. As she rounded corner into the stall, her eyes were adjusting to the dark. "I saw you cut through the field earlier. What in tarnation were you carrying?"
He turned to her and grinned. "Come see," he offered, holding his hand out to her. She took his hand and leaned on him while she sat down in the hay. It took her a minute to see the dog and pup in the corner on the dark blanket. The mother dog was chewing on the chunk of bread. She stopped for a minute to drink the water from the old pot.
Jeanine let out a little "oh" as she watched the pup wiggle over to suckle from its mother.
"Here, Ma," Bertram said. "Come sit over on the other side of me, then you can see better." Ma Webb had been hanging back in the doorway of the stall, watching her son and the young woman sitting next to him. She could see how taken he was with the girl, but she wondered if Lyle Chatterton would be making an offer of marriage soon. And if so, what would Jeanine answer.
"No, that's all right, son. I'll see them later. I want to get in and get those biscuits started. Jeanine, would you like to join us for dinner this evening? I have a chicken pie in the making."
"That sounds divine, Ma Webb, but . . ." She looked at Bertram's hopeful face and answered, "You know what? I'd love to."
Ma Webb headed back to the house to check her pie in the oven and start the biscuits. Bertram and Jeanine sat in the dark barn, patting the dog and talking softly.
"What will you call her?" Jeanine asked. She watched his face as he held his hand out and the dog licked his fingers.
"I think, maybe Shelley," he answered.
"Shelley? Where'd that come from?"
"There's an author named Mary Shelley," Bertram said. "She wrote a book that I'd really love to read. It's about a scientist who takes body parts from dead people and puts them together to make a man." His eyes were bright and excited as he described the book to her.
"Oh Bertram, that sounds dreadful," she replied. "How horrifying."
"Well, sure . . . but that's what science is. That's how we learn stuff. Think of it from an inventor's point of view. It's genius." He was looking at her intently.
"Bertram, promise me you won't start digging up bodies and taking their parts for your experiments."
He laughed and patted her hand that was linked through his arm. "I promise. I'm more into making gadgets, anyway.
"I'll be right back," Bertram said. He got up and went back to the tack room and found a small can of balm. He brought it out and, while the dog ate, Bertram spread the balm on the pads of her feet, massaging them and talking softly to her. Jeanine sat quietly and watched him with a small smile on her face.
They sat for a few more minutes patting the dog. Then Bertram looked at her and asked, "Do you want to go see my workshop? I've got some new stuff going on."
Jeanine smiled. "I'd love to, Bertram. You're so clever; I just love seeing the things you come up with."
Bertram grinned and blushed. "Thanks, Jeanine. You know, other than my parents and my friend, Agatha, you're the only one I let in my workshop," he said as he stood up and took her hands in his to help her up.
"Bertram," Ma Webb called from the barn door. "Are you two still back there? Can you run out to the garden and get me some vegetables for a little salad?"
Bertram sighed and said, "Sure, Ma. I'll be right there."
Jeanine looked down at his hands holding hers. Then she looked back up at his grinning face.
"Coming?" he asked. They walked out of the barn holding hands.
As far back as Jeanine could remember, she and Bertram would walk holding hands. She had always thought of him as a good friend; why did things feel so different tonight?
They went around the barn to the garden and Bertram got on his knees and picked through the carrot plants. "This looks good," he said, as he pulled out a large carrot. "Let's get one more though. I like lots of carrots in my salad."
Jeanine laughed. Getting down on her knees next to him, they foraged through the greens looking for a glimpse of orange. "Oh here's one," she said.
They both reached for the same carrot. "Let's pull it out together," Bertram said, laughing as his hand covered hers.
They looked at each other, grinning. Bertram looked into her sparkling eyes and thought his insides were going to explode.
They continued harvesting, all the while giggling and laughing and racing each other for the best picks.
They came back from the garden, still laughing. Bertram held the door open for her as they walked into the kitchen. "Here, Ma," he said, laying the vegetables on the counter.
"Thank you, Bertie," Ma Webb said. "Now, you two run along. I'll call you when dinner is ready."
"That's cute. She still calls you Bertie," Jeanine said, remembering his childhood nickname, as they strolled across the yard towards Bertram's workshop.
He frowned and shook his head. "She never remembers that I'm a grown man now." He unlocked the door to his workshop and started to open the door. "Wait here," he said. "I gotta make sure it's okay to come in. There's a few things that aren't ready to be seen yet."
With that, he mysteriously slipped through the door and closed it behind him. Once inside, he pushed the "Smooching Machine" out of sight and pulled a set of shelves in front of it. He had started building it last March. It was an old, broken phonograph from his uncle; with a few additions and alterations, it now sprayed out a potent "love potion" that was designed to encourage kissing. His plan had been to test it with Jeanine at the May Day town picnic . . . but then her father had been killed. He had figured that he should wait a while before declaring his intentions, but before he knew what had happened, Lyle stepped in and took control of her life.
They were in the workshop for almost an hour. He showed her his matchless wonder, the automatic fertilizer spreader and his plans that he had just sketched up for an automatic chicken feeder.
They heard the buggy drive up as Pa Webb came home from checking on their elderly neighbor. Bertram stuck his head out of the door and hollered to his father. "Hey, Pa. Jeanine and I are in here. Supper's almost ready though. We'll be in soon."
Harold Webb waved acknowledgement to his son as he and his old yellow lab, Sophie, made their way toward the house. He yelled back over his shoulder, "Don't blow anything up between now and then, you hear?"
Bertram frowned at his father and pulled his head back in the door to find Jeanine trying to hide her giggles.
"He has no faith in me and my inventions," Bertram said, sitting on a stool and putting his chin in his hand.
"Oh Bertram, really. I'm sure that's not true," she said, placing her hand on his shoulder. "But you can't deny that you've had more than your fair share of explosions." She giggled again.
He looked up and tried to scowl, but her smile was infectious. He soon found himself giggling along with her as he recounted his failed attempt at making a high-octane hog mash, which was the cause of the latest explosion that left a huge hole in the barn ceiling. When they heard Ma holler from the kitchen door, they locked up the workshop and walked back to the house for dinner.
As they got closer, Jeanine said to Ma Webb, "I can't get over how lovely your house looks tonight. The walls are so white, and the flowers so colorful . . . it's just breathtaking."
Ma smiled as she held the door open for them. "Oh that's Bertram's doing. He gave the house a good coat of paint last week. Didn't he do a nice job?"
Bertram blushed and shrugged his shoulders. Holding the chair out for Jeanine, she sat down and looked up at him. "Thank you, Bertie," she said with a wide grin.
This time, he succeeded at scowling at her, causing her to laugh again.
"I'd love to get my house painted. It is looking a bit run down," Jeanine commented.
"I'll do it for you," offered Bertram. A light bulb practically flashed above his head as an idea took shape. "That's it!" he exclaimed loudly, making the others all jump. "That's what I can do for your birthday. I'll paint your house for you."
"Oh goodness, Bertram. No, no - really. That would take you days," she protested.
"Dad, you can spare me for four or five days, can't you?" Bertram asked.
Harold Webb thought for a minute . . . four or five days . . . without Bertram blowing anything up? "Sure, son. I think it's a wonderful idea."
"There. It's settled then," Bertram said, giving his head a nod. "When do you want me to start?" he asked, looking at Jeanine. "I already have over half a bucket of whitewash and some brushes. I can get some more supplies in town in the morning, Then I can come over after lunch . . . if you want me to, that is."
Jeanine laughed. "Well, tomorrow is fine, then. I'll see you right after lunch."