CHAPTER Seven
Farm Formalities
It was matter of strategically packing eleven people into a small van, deciding the driver, and making a solemn oath not to complain about the lack of air conditioning before they were off. No one, however, not even Constance, was in the mood to complain.
Sticky found himself squished between Moocho and Mrs. Perumal, one rather large, the other quite fragile and he avoided knocking much into either of them. Reynie, however, was not much more comfortably seated. He was pressed into the rear-facing seat beside Milligan (who was holding Constance) and Kate, who was bobbing up and down with excitement. Their odd placement, no matter how unfortunate, gave them no plight. They were on vacation- a real vacation.
Mr. Benedict's eyes sparkled brighter every minute, as they grew closer. The van rolled by a huge estate, thickly wooded and obviously well cared for, with large silver letters that spelled out Rothschild's End on a sign out front. Reynie secretly burned within, knowing the place was an orphanage. He pitied any child that had to pass under those great doors.
It was perhaps an hour later that the van finally slowed and the group let out a collective breath. Mr. Benedict, who was driving, turned to smile at everyone in the car (those who were in the back craned to meet his eyes). "I know you will all be on your best behavior," he said, looking at Constance. And then Kate. Both made a noise of contempt. When the others laughed, Kate joined in, but Constance stuck out her tongue.
Moocho was out of the car first and it was simply a matter of pealing the ten remaining sardines out of the can before setting off toward the farmhouse. Sticky came to walk beside Reynie, both with gleeful springs in their strides. Kate jawed with Cannonball and Constance rode piggyback on her shoulders while sucking on yet another mint. All the children were bursting with joy, the sunshine on their faces and in their hearts.
The grass thickened as they passed a pen of horses, their great shaggy mains glistening. A boy was riding one, a little in the distance. He stood on the horses back, bare of a saddle, and swung a lasso over his head. Kate put Constance up on the rail and plopped her elbows down to watch. Milligan whistled and the boy looked up from his concentrated expression. He pulled to a stop and sprinted over. He looked to be seventeen or so, but if this was Mark, Reynie knew he was only fifteen. He was tall and thin with a handsome face and bright blue eyes. He brushed his dark hair out of his face and offered a calloused hand to Mr. Benedict.
"I know you weren't expecting us today and I apologize," Mr. Benedict said.
"That's quite alright. It's an honor to meet you, sir. My father has told me so much about you," The boy said. "I'm Mark," He added waving to the rest. Milligan, Captain Noland, Cannonball, and Moocho shook hands as well.
Mark jumped the fence, rolling his plaid sleeves back down over his farmer's tan. Mark was quite a bit taller than Reynie and much taller than Constance. He squatted down and smiled at her- a kind, charming smile, "Here," he said, offering her a bright pink lollipop and tipping his hat. He gave his hand and she took it, uncharacteristically shy. "And what's your name?" He asked, trying to look into her eyes.
"That's Constance," Kate was bouncing with excitement and too impatient for Constance's reply. "Where'd you learn to do that?" She asked Mark, gesturing to the horses.
Mark laughed, straightening up, "Taught myself. I know my form must be awful," He rolled his eyes, "But it's still fun. You must be Kate."
"How did you…?" She began, confused.
"The red bucket kind of gives you away," He said, with a wink. "My dad's told me a lot about you four." He turned expectantly toward the boys.
"Sticky," said Sticky holding out his hand, which Mark shook. "Nice to meet you."
"You're Reynie, then," said Mark, shaking his hand too. "I'm glad to have you boys around. My brother left last week for deployment and I'm grateful for the company," His face fell, just slightly.
"We're glad to be here," Reynie said, giving him a reassuring smile. He liked Mark already.
"You look very much like your father, Mark," Mr. Benedict commented, after Mark had been properly introduced to everyone. "But you have you're mother's smile."
"Yes, that's what they tell me," Mark said brightly. "Should we head up to the farmhouse for some lemonade and cookies?"
Everyone agreed that that sounded good and Mark led the way up a grassy walkway lined with pens of cows and sheep. Kate did handsprings the whole way up, chattering excitedly. Constance rode piggyback, this time, trustingly, with Mark. He took off his hat and plopped it on her head to block the sun. She giggled and broke into her lollipop.
The house, in reality, was quite large, but looked rather small compared to its vast surroundings and towering neighbor of a barn. Mark flew up the porch steps and let Constance ring the bell before setting her down.
"Thank you for the ride," she said sweetly, "and the candy."
Kate exchanged glances with Reynie, "Four years later and I still haven't gotten a thank you for a single piggyback. What's up with her?" Reynie shrugged, puzzling over it himself.
Mark, meanwhile, ruffled Constance's hair and hailed everyone up to the porch. Violet, John's mother, opened the door. She signed a hello and for everyone to come in. Reynie, from Mr. Benedict's stories, had known that Violet was deaf. Sticky too, had picked up on it and Constance had her own ways of knowing. Kate surprised them all, then, by signing to her with perfect accuracy. Violet flashed a lovely smile and signed something back. Those that could understand sign language laughed and Kate blushed.
"What did she say?" Asked Cannonball.
Kate put her hands to her cheeks, grinning, "She likes my bucket."
~::~
Milligan, Reynie, and Mark went back for the luggage, insisting that the others should settle in and wait for Mr. Cole. Mark pulled a cart behind him to haul the bags. While they unloaded the car, they talked, Reynie inside, handing out the bags, Mark and Milligan strategically organizing them inside the cart.
"How long have you lived here?" Milligan inquired of Mark.
"Since I was born. My mother's parents owned it before then. My mother grew up here," He said, carefully balancing a green suitcase on a pile of backpacks.
"It's seems to be in great shape," Reynie commented.
Mark flashed him a smiled over duffle bag, "It's our pride and joy."
"My daughter and I own a farm," Milligan told him, straightening up and stretching. "It's not so big as this one, or so… traditional," he smiled at Reynie, who know what he meant, "but it was home."
Reynie liked the way he had said "was home" because Milligan and Kate belonged in Stonetown. They belonged with Mr. Benedict. Just like he did. Just like they all did.
"I hear you have quite the talented daughter, sir," Mark said to Milligan. "Does she really have a falcon?"
"Yep, Mage," Milligan replied, smilingly.
"That's short for Her Majesty the Queen," Reynie clarified.
Mark smiled, "That's a good name."
"And she's quite a girl- Kate, I mean," Milligan said and then added, almost to himself, "I think Reynie would agree."
"Definitely," Reynie said, but ducked back inside the car for more trunks to hide his blush, stomach squirming.
"Then she takes after you, sir," Mark said and he and Milligan heaved in the last, weighted bag. "Did you really jump from the roof a of three story building and survive?"
"I did jump off the building, yes, but, unfortunately, I didn't survive," Milligan said and chuckled. "I see Mr. Benedict's been bragging about us."
"He just passed on some stories to my father- who told them to me," Mark shrugged. "They sounded more like legends to me. True ones, of course," He said and helped Reynie close the trunk of the rental car, which stuck only if you pushed it down just right.
Milligan dragged the cart while the boys pushed from behind. Unfortunately, the work was all uphill so there wasn't much breath left for talking. By the time they reached the farmhouse again, Mr. Cole was riding up.
"Dad!" Mark called. Something in Reynie shriveled. He'd never had a father except for… with a jolt, he realized the closest thing he'd ever had to a dad was Milligan. "Dad look whose here!"
Mr. Cole dismounted and looked around at the group. Except for some faded pock scars, Mr. Cole looked very much like his son. "Hello," he said kindly. "I'm John," he told them, shaking hands with Reynie and Milligan. "Forgive me for being late- I'd have come up to the farmhouse sooner but someone left the pig pen unlocked and I had to retrieved them." Mr. Cole didn't look at his son, but Mark reddened deeply and it wasn't hard to guess who that "somebody" had been.
"Pig pens have a terrible habit of unlocking themselves," Milligan said, with his usual smile. "Milligan," he said with a nod.
"Ah, and you must be Reynie," John said, turning toward him.
"Yes, sir," Reynie nodded.
"I've heard many great things about you, Reynie. The way I see it, I owe you my life," he said. "Shall we head inside? Smells like dinner's ready."
They all loaded up on bags and headed in. The room got quiet from the previous chatter. Mr. Benedict's squeaky laugh broke the silence, "John!"
"Nick," John said and they embraced. Mr. Benedict continued his dolphin laugh. "Nick!" John exclaimed. "You're- you're laughing!"
"Indeed I am," Mr. Benedict chuckled.
"But- you're not asleep! How?" John shook his head, smiling for the first time. "How could you keep that from me?"
"You never asked," Mr. Benedict said slyly. "And I'm afraid the idea of surprising you was simply too tempting."
"Well you did that," John said, shaking his head.
I wish I could hear your laugh, Nick, Violet signed and Sticky translated, though most of the people in the room could understand her.
Mr. Benedict took her hands, "Ah, but you can hear me best of all, can't you?" He asked.
Violet laughed, a lovely, silvery laugh that touched the ear like raindrops on the cheek. I've missed you.
"As I've missed you, my dear friends," he said, a hand on Violet's shoulder.
Mark tugged gently on Reynie elbow and whispered, "I think the grown ups have some catching up to do- I'll show you your rooms."
Reynie beckoned for Kate, Constance, and Sticky to follow. Mark slipped out the front door and held the screen, "We'll be sleeping in the barn," he said as they passed outside.
Constance gave him a testing look, "In the barn?" A bit of her old spunk evidently returned.
"Don't worry," Mark reassured her. "It was remodeled years ago. In my opinion, it's more comfortable than the house."
Constance brightened and flashed him a smile, "You had me worried there for a second!"
Mark laughed and took Constance's hand as she descended the steps, "Sorry for the scare, Connie. I think you'll like the barn, actually- you girls get the bottom floor, the boys and I will sleep in the loft, if that sounds agreeable to you all."
Reynie was certain he'd heard wrong. Had Mark called Constance "Connie?" It didn't seem likely seeing as there was no cataclysmic explosion following. Reynie stared meaningfully at Constance, but she pretended not to notice.
Kate had halted behind the group, her mouth slightly ajar. Yanking Reynie to a stop she whispered vehemently into her ear, "What is with her?" Reynie shook his head, just as puzzled as Kate. "Talk to her, won't you? It's going to drive me crazy not knowing."
"I will but…" Reynie scratched his head. "I don't think she'll be very willing to tell me."
"Oh come on, Reynie, people tell you everything," she whispered frantically, "I'm sure you know more about me than even Milligan does. You can do it, pal," she clapped him on the back and ran to catch up with the others. Reynie grinned.
The barn was larger than the house and most of its wall space was occupied by lavish paintings. Kate spun in a slow arc, mouth slightly open.
"You like them?" Mark asked, smiling proudly.
"They're beautiful," Kate said, continuing her slow spin, eyes eating up the colors. "Who's the artist?"
"My mother," Mark replied.
Kate's eyes snapped down, "You mom did these? They're incredible!" She ran to the nearest picture and checked the signature at the bottom. "Do you think she would teach me?" She raced around, studying all the pictures.
"I'm sure she'd love to," Mark answered cheerfully. "Which do you like the best?"
"Oh, I couldn't choose," Kate said fervently, but stopped abruptly in front of a picture of a great open field full of daisies, clearly impressed with the indents of two figures that had previously lain there. Nothing- and everything- about the picture was right: proportion, texture, and color- but the then everything was far too vibrant. They shone. "This one… is amazing," Kate said.
Mark grinned and went to stand by her, "I did this one, actually."
"Really?" Kate asked, and her eyes sparkled as much as the painting.
"It took me almost a year and I almost gave up on it… but, my mother's patience gave me the will to finish," he said, clearly thinking back to the making of the painting- each individual stroke of the brush.
Kate laughed, "Maybe you should teach me."
"If we can find a moment- I have a feeling this month will be pretty busy- I'd love to," Mark said, smiling.
"She's already very good," Reynie put in. "You should see some of her sketches."
"Reynie," Kate said, blushing crimson.
"What? Can't I brag a little? You put in so much practice, you deserve it Kate," Reynie told her firmly. He shook his head at Mark, "But, really, she's quite amazing. I've never had the knack for drawing myself."
'Then she should be an easy pupil," Mark said, grinning. "Come on Reynie, Sticky, I'll show you the loft while the girls get settled here."
Reynie followed behind Sticky, who was still making comments about the artwork. "Does your mother consider herself an impressionist? Or more of a abstract painter?"
"A little of both, I think, and others," Mark replied, pulling a string that let down stairs from above. He stepped aside for the boys to pass, Reynie between he and Sticky. "But, I think she's really developed a style of her own."
Sticky nodded in agreement, "Her work is very unique. However, it does remind me of-" But Sticky didn't finish. The boys froze at the top of the stairs. The loft was not, as Reynie expected, a line of dressed up cots in a row, but rather a spacious upstairs, fully furnished and complete with a bathroom. Three beds were lined under three windows, framing the blaze of setting sun. The floors were of dark wood and a fine trunk stood guard at the end of each bed. A rather tall chair rail lined the empty wall across from the beds.
Mark laughed softly behind them, "You like it?"
"Wow," is all Sticky got out.
"Um," Reynie shrugged and collapsed on the plush bed with a sigh, fingers locking behind his head, "It's alright."
Three small fans spun overhead, keeping the room comfortable with a quiet whir. There was a desk in one corner, placed also beneath a window that overlooked a distant lush fields and the silhouette of a smoky bluff.
"When you said loft, I thought you men, you know, a hay loft," Sticky said, sinking down on a plump chair between a set of beds, eyes roving.
"This isn't even the best part. Watch," Mark walked over to a lever Reynie had noticed upon entering. He sat up curiously. Mark tugged on it, looking over his shoulder to see the boys' reactions.
The bare wall that cut the barn in half slid out, breaking an almost undetectable seam. The roof too retreated. The girls below, who were now visible below them, made noises of exclamation.
Reynie ran forward, leaning against the chair rail, which remained to act as a safe guard. The sun cut into the room, making the dark floors burn with light.
"No. Way," Kate sighed audibly. Disregarding the ladder, Kate mounted her bed pole and climbed up over the chair rail. Reynie offered his hand, which she took with a quick smile at him. She steadied herself and stared up at the sky with Reynie and Sticky.
Constance, who was feeling very abandoned, pulled herself clumsily up the stairs. Reynie pulled himself from the view of fiery clouds to help Constance, but stopped when he saw Mark's face. He was staring, at first aghast and then laughingly and then admiringly at Kate. She looked down to meet his piercing blue eyes and grin and didn't look away. She only smiled sweetly, blushed, and turned away after a moment.
Reynie moved to help Constance, who, instead of complaining, gave him a searching, pitying look. He grimaced at her and shook his head slightly, signing for her not to worry about him. But he was disheartened. Kate… had never looked at him like that.
"Milligan said you were remarkable…" Mark said, still mesmerized by Kate, "But I had no idea…" he shook his head, "Sorry, I've just never seen a girl do that kind of thing." He blushed.
"Well, I'm not exactly very good a being girl," Kate admitted. The room went quiet. "So, was the skylight thing your idea?"
"No," Mark said, relieved. "It was my dad's. Reminds him of his childhood. He says every kid deserves to have one at one point or other." He shrugged.
Sticky launched into a lengthy dialogue with Mark about the function of the skylight, how all the gears connected and such and, or so Constance claimed, drained all of the magic out of the idea. That rendered Sticky quiet for a bit.
The dinner bell rang and Mark slid down the ladder, completely bypassing the rungs. Just like Kate did. She grinned and leapt after him. Sticky smiled after them, letting Constance climb down first.
"I think Kate's finally found someone that can keep up with her," Sticky said, admiringly. "First one since Milligan, I think."
Reynie only smiled, his stomach sinking at the blunt truth.
"I like Mark already," Sticky continued. "You reckon he should be in our Society?"
Constance answered before Reynie could, "Absolutely not, George Washington. I will not have our society overrun with stinky boys."
"Oh yeah," Sticky retorted, following, "well, what if I don't want it overrun with brats?"
"Then you can leave the club," Constance said smugly. Reynie pulsed a thank you to Constance in his mind and they locked eyes understandingly at the bottom of the ladder before heading into the house.
~::~
There once was a boy who thought
He knew a whole awful lot
But, he was simply boring
And left all of us snoring.
He knows just what he may see
Yes everything, just not me. . .
Refrains like these drifted in and out of Constance's thoughts and, surprisingly, into Reynie's as well. He had a feeling Constance was doing him a favor, trying to distract him. It worked. He had a headache by the end of the evening.
Mrs. Cole, or Violet, as she asked the children to address her as, made soup and fresh bread with the help of Rhonda and Number Two. Kate and Reynie were assigned to set the table, under Mark's instruction.
"What do you say to fishing trip tomorrow, Reynie?" Asked Mark, handing him a light blue, calico print plate.
Reynie smiled lightly, "Sure, I've never been, though, so someone will have to teach me."
"Reynie Muldoon, you've never been fishing?" Asked Kate, aghast. She was standing on a chair and pulling down spare plates from the top shelf and handing them to Mark.
Reynie shook his head, setting yet another plate, this one green and checked. The back up dishes didn't match exactly, which left the table in a display of color.
"We'll just have to fix that," she declared, doing a back flip of the chair and landing lightly on her toes, sticking the landing. Mark stared, Reynie smiled. Kate kept talking, unfazed. "You know, Milligan is a fantastic fishermen. He taught me everything I know."
Milligan's voice boomed through the house as if on cue, "Katy? Could you come here for a moment?"
"Yes!" she called back (the boys covered their ears) and dashed from the room.
"Do you like fishing then?" Asked Reynie, not wanting the conversation to fall flat. He spread out paper napkins, but looked up when Mark didn't reply.
He shook his head, "Is she…?"
"Always like that?" Reynie finished for him. Mark nodded. "Yeah. She-" Reynie was about to explain about Kate's bringing up in the circus, but he was cut off by a terrified scream.
