Arrival

    The gravel crunched beneath Jack’s boots as he walked the road to his unknown destiny.  The cold smell of fall and dying grass intermingled with smoke from the horse ranch.  The home was visible to the right, perhaps a mile from the road.  The house was surrounded by aged oak trees.  A tire swing hanging from a limb just visible.

    It had been two years since he’d sought work at the Cleef ranch, and a year since he left.  Frank Cleef had taken him on as a hired hand.  Frank had looked into the nineteen-year-old’s intelligent eyes, and noting the young man’s character, hired him. After a few months the Cleef’s accepted him into their home and family.

    Jack hoped they would welcome him again.  They had parted on good terms but Lizzie hadn’t answered his last few letters.  He stood on the gravel road, looking down the long drive to the warm house.  The soft glow of light from the windows was visible in the gathering dusk.  The swing swayed gently in the cool evening breeze. 

    He looked at the home, not moving, inner conflict turning his feet to stone.  Everything he possessed but his woodworking tools was with him.  The work boots on his feet, sweat stained hat on his brow, worn jeans and a patched work shirt.  He wore his only jacket.  He carried a change of clothes and a dress shirt in his case.  He thought about changing into the dress shirt, but decided against it.  They knew him, well.

    He started down the graveled road to her home. 

    He hoped she had waited.  They talked about his returning when he left.  The smell of fried chicken mingled with the scent of clean dirt.  Standing in front of the porch the smells and sounds of the home came back to him.  Frank would be at the head of the scarred pine trestle table, Lizzie, their eldest now twenty-one at his left and Jeremiah their oldest son on his right.  At the other end of the table Eleanor Cleef would be seated, watching her family, with the baby, Mary, now four years old on her left and Thomas on her right.  Seated at the middle of the table would be Maggie and Sissy.

    He stood nervously before the front porch.  He worried.  What if she’d found someone else?  Fear absorbed him.  He could hear indistinct supper conversation interspersed with laughter.  Frank had made a good life for his family.  The chicken smelled good and his stomach rumbled.  He stepped onto the porch.

    The conversation inside stopped abruptly.  He heard Frank tell Jeremiah to get the door before he had knocked on it.  Jeremiah opened the door after he knocked, and smiled.  Warmth seeped from the open door along with smell of fried chicken, dill and potatoes, baking apples.  Frank and Eleanor had created a respite from the world within their home.  It was a welcoming home, filled with treasure.

    “Jack! How ya doin’?  It’s Jack everybody,” Jeremiah yelled to the family.

    “Well ask him in, Jeremiah.”  Eleanor exclaimed as she rose from the table and came to the door.  “Oh look at you Jack, are you here for the winter?”  She hugged him, as a mother.

    “I don't know Ma’m.  I don’t want to be a burden to you.”  He looked at Eleanor and mumbled, “I’m after Frank’s advice.”

    Eleanor placed a hand lightly on his forearm and gave him an appraising, worried look.  “Well, you know you are always welcome here,” she said softly.

    Frank rose from the table and came to Jack, hand extended.  “Welcome, welcome back, Jack.  Have you eaten?”  The two clasped hands and Frank covered Jack’s hand with his other.

    Jack looked at his feet.  “No sir.  No I haven’t.”

    “Well sit down there next to Mary.  Lizzie, get Jack a plate, he’s hungry.”  Frank ordered as he and Eleanor walked Jack to the table.

      Everyone was talking at once but Jack didn’t hear anyone.  He watched only Lizzie as she moved around the kitchen.  The jeans she wore were covered with horsehair on the seat.  Lizzie did a good portion of the breaking and training of stock, she was good with the horses.  She was coveted at every ranch in the county, and for more than her ability with horses.  A green flannel shirt was tucked in at her narrow waist, it matched her eyes.  Lizzie gathered a plate, silverware, napkin and a cup for Jack, never looking at him.  Jack was unsure, his mouth dry, his heart racing.  Lizzie placed all but the plate before him without a word or glance at him, her dark auburn hair was tied loose at the back of her neck.  Freckles lightly decorated her prominent cheekbones and distinctive nose.  Her clear green eyes clouded to Jack.

    The table suddenly became quiet as the family realized that Jack’s concentration was on Lizzie.  Frank and Eleanor exchanged a significant glance.  Jeremiah grimaced and looked at his plate.  Jack watched as Lizzie put chicken, potatoes and green beans on the plate.  She came around the table, standing behind Jack,  The family suddenly engrossed in their supper, except Thomas.  A solid stream of questions issuing from his mouth directed at anyone that would listen.

    Lizzie bent over him with the plate.  Her scent exhilarating, he inhaled as long as possible.

    “Welcome back, Jack,” Lizzie said.  She returned to her place, sat, and resumed eating.  Not meeting Jack’s eyes.

    “Where have you been, Jack?  What have you been doing?  Have you had any adventures?”  Thomas asked excitedly, breaking the awkward silence.

    “Well Thomas, I’ve been around a bit.”  Lizzie watched intensely while Jack answered Thomas.  “I went south, but it turns out folks down that way aren’t real friendly to outsiders.  So I headed to San Francisco and worked in a shipyard.  Then, I went to visit my folks.”  He paused, adding with quiet emphasis, “I made peace with my dad.  A son should always have peace with his parents ya know.”

    Jack ate ravenously, savoring every bite, finishing every scrap.  He complimented Eleanor on the meal, “Ma’m nobody can fry chicken like you, that’s the best I’ve ever had”

    Eleanor smiled, “Lizzie made the chicken, Jack.”

    Jack looked to Lizzie, she returned his gaze, wavering slightly.  “Good chicken, Lizzie.”

    “Thank you, Jack”

    Lizzie blushed and looked away.

    There was apple cobbler for dessert.  The conversation was free and fast, catching up on events of the past year.  Jack enjoyed Frank and Eleanor’s table.  There was always laughter and compassion at their meals.  Jack and Lizzie laughed with the rest of the family.  Jack openly watching Lizzie, she sneaking glances at him.

    As the table was cleared Frank stood and looked at Jack.  “I seem to remember you like a good scotch in the evenings, Jack.  Come, have one with me.”

    Eleanor looked to the ground.  Lizzie looked from her father to Jack to the ground, coloring slightly.  Jeremiah rose to accompany them.

    “Stay here, Jeremiah,” Frank said softly.

    Jack followed Frank to the sitting room.  Frank poured two tumblers of the amber fluid.  “How have you been, Jack?  What brings you back up to this country?”  Frank asked as he sat in a chair before the fire and motioned Jack to take the other.

    Both men had a healthy swallow of the whiskey.  Frank, to let Jack find the words he needed.  Jack because he needed to settle himself and gather his thoughts.

    Jack stood and moved behind the chair.  “I’ve worked the past year and-a-half and saved everything I could, the shipyards pay good money.  I have enough to buy some land and build a place.  I’m a hard working, clean man sir.  I won’t ever mistreat her…”

    Frank held his hand up motioning Jack to stop.  “Whoa, slow down,” Frank smiled.  “You’ve gotta’ remember to breathe Jack, now get to the point.”  He took another sip of his whiskey, concerned eyes heavy on Jack.

    Jack straightened up, clearing his throat.  His eyes met Frank’s.  “I have come to ask for your daughter, Frank.  I want Lizzie as my wife, and I want your and Eleanor’s blessing.  I respect you and Eleanor for who you are and what you have done.  I want to do the same thing with Lizzie.”  Jack stood behind the chair calmly trying to gauge Frank’s reaction.  “With Lizzie’s consent, of course,” Jack added.

    The two men looked at each other, neither flinching, neither blinking.  Both breathing slowly, deeply.  “How will you support her, Jack?  You’ve nothing but the clothes on your back.”

    “Well sir, I‘ve saved enough the past eighteen months to purchase our own parcel.  I can turn my hand at most anything.  I’d like to build a shop and make furniture.  I’ve enough to get us through to next fall,” Jack paused.  “I can’t give her a fine house like this.”  He extended his arms encompassing all about him.  “But she has my love and I can give her my life.  I will always do what is right for Lizzie.”  Jack paused, took a strong draught of scotch and continued, “That is why I am asking you Frank, if you don’t think it’s right for her I’ll leave now.”

    “Fair enough son,” Frank let silence settle.  “What happened to building boats?”  Frank watched him closely.

    “Lizzie is here and there isn’t much need for a boat in these parts.”  Jack stopped and took a drink.  “I love her more than boats,” he added quietly.   

    “I believe you do son.  Eleanor and I have faith that you are going to grow into a good man.  You’ve a good start.”  Frank stared into the fire.  “We think you are right for her.  You’ve always a job here Jack, and somewhere to stay.  You know that.”  Frank was silent a moment, then looking up, “You have our blessings.” Frank rose, retrieved the bottle of scotch.  “There’s been another fella around, quite often lately.”  Jack sat down, Frank refilled both their glasses.

    Frank looked at Jack, sitting before him obviously disheartened.  “I’m rootin’ for you, Jack.  Really I am.”  Frank stopped at the door and looked at Jack.  Frank wasn’t smiling.  “I don’t know what to tell you son.”

    Then he was alone.  I need to get her back, Jack thought.