Grandfather's Dance Page 3

  “You’re tall,” said William.

  “I’ll catch up with you one day,” said Caleb.

  Grandfather shook William’s hand. Jack hid behind Grandfather shyly.

  “I see you, Jack,” said William, making Jack smile.

  William stopped in front of me.

  “Cassie,” he said softly.

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “You must be Cassie. You look just like your mama did when she was your age.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. She even had braids like you.”

  William reached out and touched my hair.

  “Did you tease her?” I asked.

  “Of course,” said William. “It was my job.”

  The aunts came out of the house then, flour up to their elbows.

  “Ah, the cooks!” said William.

  “William’s here! Now we can have the wedding,” announced Aunt Harriet.

  Jack was content to listen to Grandfather’s songs while he was sick. He was happy to sleep next to Grandfather at night. He loved to watch Grandfather eat. The evening William came, Jack asked for coffee with his dessert after supper.

  Mama laughed.

  “No coffee for you, Jack. That is for grown-ups.”

  Jack frowned at Mama.

  “Coffee?” Jack said to William.

  William smiled.

  “Coffee?” he asked Grandfather.

  Grandfather shook his head.

  “No coffee, pal,” he said.

  Jack fell off his chair onto the floor, crying.

  “I’d say Jack’s unhappy,” said Aunt Mattie with a half smile.

  “Coffee won’t make him any happier,” said Grandfather.

  That made Jack cry louder. He kicked his feet against the wood floor. Lottie and Nick came over to sniff him, then moved away to safety.

  “Oh, Jack,” said Mama. “Come. I’ll read you a story.”

  Jack cried.

  “Let’s go paint a picture, Jack,” said Aunt Lou. “You can use my paint box.”

  Jack cried louder.

  Grandfather got up quickly, so quickly that his chair fell over backward.

  “Jack!” he shouted, his voice louder than I had ever heard it. “Stop that right now.”

  Jack stopped and stared at Grandfather. We all stared. I had never heard Grandfather lose his temper. I had seen Jack lose his temper many times. He was a little boy. But not Grandfather.

  Silence filled the room. Grandfather walked out the kitchen door, slamming it behind him. Jack got up and walked to the window to look out. Caleb and I looked out, too. Outside, moonlight touched the grass and spilled over the flowers in Mama’s garden. Grandfather walked toward the barn. Then, suddenly, he stopped, lifted his shoulders, and turned around as if he knew Jack was at the window. And there, in the moonlight, Grandfather did a little dance, turning around and around, his hands in the air.

  Jack smiled. Grandfather smiled back at him.

  “That’s the best apology I’ve ever seen,” said Caleb softly.

  “I’ll say,” said Mama. “Grandfather’s sorry, Jack.”

  “Dance,” said Jack. He put his thumb in his mouth, then took it out. “Sorry,” he said, so softly that it was almost a whisper.

  8

  The day before the wedding was sunny and warm. Matthew and Papa put up tents. William and Grandfather built a wooden arch for Justin and Anna to stand under when they married. Tomorrow morning Mama and the aunts would wind in flowers—roses from the bushes by the paddock, zinnias and feverfew. Tomorrow Caleb and I would toss rose petals on the path between the gardens where Anna would walk.

  Aunt Lou sat on the porch, rocking Jack. Grandfather walked off a bit and turned to look at the gardens and arch and tents. He put his hands in his pockets. Then he walked slowly to the barn. I followed him.

  Inside the barn was cool and dark with the sweet smell of hay and animals. Some chickens had found their way out of the sun into the shade, and pecked here and there.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  Grandfather smiled.

  “Thinking,” he said. “Thinking about weddings.”

  “All weddings? Or the wedding?” I asked.

  Grandfather cocked his head to one side, like Nick and Lottie did when they were listening.

  “Actually,” he said softly, “I was thinking about your wedding.”

  I nodded.

  “I may not be able to be at your wedding, Cassie,” said Grandfather.

  My heart raced. I knew what Grandfather meant.

  “You will, Grandfather. Yes, you will!” I could feel my voice rising.

  “Maybe,” said Grandfather.

  He shrugged.

  “But just in case I can’t be there, I think we should have a wedding.”

  “You mean tomorrow?”

  Grandfather shook his head.

  “Now,” he whispered. “Get Nick. Go put on your blue dress.”

  “My dress?”

  “Run. Do it now!” said Grandfather.

  I grinned. I ran out of the barn and into the sunlight.

  “I’m coming to your wedding!” called Grandfather behind me.

  * * *

  It is a fine wedding, my dog husband’s and mine.

  I wear my blue silk dress with the trailing ribbons. And a veil.

  I carry a rose surrounded by feverfew.

  My dog husband, Nick (whose full name is Nicholas Wheaton Witting), wears a zinnia in his collar. He stands under the arch, looking beautiful and bored.

  When I walk the path between the gardens everyone is there, Mama and Papa, the aunts, Caleb and Jack. Aunt Harriet plays the flute—

  But the best thing of all is that Grandfather is there waiting for me, smiling.

  He gives my dog husband a bone.

  “Be good to Cassie,” he says.

  “Oui,” says Nick.

  I am astonished. I have never heard Nick speak French words.

  “You speak French!” I cry.

  “I retrieve, too,” says my dog husband.

  * * *

  “Thank you,” I said to Grandfather at dinner.

  “Thank you,” said Grandfather.

  “I feel better,” I said.

  “I do, too,” said Grandfather. He took my hand. “I do, too.”

  “Well, I am waiting for Nick to speak French,” said Mama.

  “That is impressive,” said William.

  “He can only speak French in my journal,” I said.

  “I suppose that’s what writing is for,” said Grandfather. “To change life and make it come out the way you want it to.”

  “Speak, Nick. Speak!” said Papa.

  Nick cocked his head from one side to the other. He was silent.

  “Woof,” said Jack finally.

  9

  Anna and Justin’s wedding was almost as fine as my wedding. The sun was overhead when they married. Anna looked like a cloud of silk and tulle. Papa cried.

  Grandfather and Jack wore red bow ties and blue shirts, and the aunts were beautiful in flowered dresses and hats. Later they danced.

  Matthew and Maggie were there, and Rose and Violet. All of my friends from school were there, laughing and chasing each other, and stealing candied roses off the wedding cake. Mr. Willet, my teacher, was there, too, pretending he didn’t see them do it.

  The dogs came, blue ribbons tied on their collars, and our cat Seal’s kittens, now grown, wound in and around plants in the garden, watching curiously.

  Mama and Papa danced and smiled at each other as if it were their wedding.

  William danced with Aunt Mattie and Aunt Lou, one after the other. Grandfather danced with Aunt Harriet once. He looked over her head, out at the prairie. I had never seen him dance before. Except the one time, after he yelled at Jack—his little dance in the moonlight.

  Later, after the dancing and food and cake, we threw rose petals and waved good-bye as Anna and Justin went off
in Justin’s car, a spray of white roses on the back. And then it was quiet. The aunts took off their shoes and fanned themselves and drank lemonade.

  “I almost got married once,” said Aunt Harriet wistfully.

  “Me, too,” said Aunt Mattie.

  “Not me,” said Aunt Lou. “I got a dog.”

  “As did Cassie,” said Grandfather.

  Grandfather sat on a bench next to the aunts.

  “So she did,” said Aunt Lou.

  “Doggie,” said Jack, climbing up on Grandfather’s lap. He lay back against Grandfather’s shoulder and reached up with his hand to touch Grandfather’s cheek. I sat next to Grandfather and he put his arm around me. White clouds hung high in the sky. Birds sang in the meadow.

  The world smelled of roses.

  Papa left the tents up so it was like the end of the wedding for days. There were still vases of flowers on the tables and tablecloths that reached the ground. We ate our lunches and suppers under the white tents, and talked long into the night by candlelight. Lottie and Nick slept under the tablecloths, hidden and cool. Caleb stayed, and it was like before, when Caleb was home, teasing me every day.

  Aunt Harriet played music in the evening sometimes. Grandfather learned to like the sound of her flute. Once he sang as she played:

  “Sumer is icumen in

  Lhude sing cuccu!”

  His voice was strong and sweet at the same time.

  “I learned that song from Sarah,” he told the aunts.

  “And she learned it from us,” they told him.

  In the evenings we laughed. Grandfather told stories and the aunts told stories. William told us about when Mama was little, like Jack. Papa told stories about Grandfather trying to train his first horse, the horse pulling him through the barn and out to the slough.

  Everyone laughed, and it was almost like the laughter floated out over the prairie, pulled by the winds, here and there and back again.

  * * *

  The sounds of voices and laughter are like little pebbles

  All around us.

  We can reach up and scoop them up in our hands

  Holding them close to us.

  Saving them forever.

  * * *

  When I read my journal to Grandfather, he smiled.

  “Forever,” he said, more to himself than to me.

  He walked over to the driveway and bent down. Then he came back to where I stood. He took my hand and put a pebble there.

  “I . . . ,” he said.

  “Love . . .” He put another pebble there.

  “You,” he said as he placed the last one.

  I stared at them for a long time, then closed my hand over them. When I looked up again, Grandfather was gone.

  10

  The next day Aunt Lou was the very first up in the morning again.

  “I’ve driven a car,” she said to Papa. “Now it is time to ride a horse. Only five more days before we have to go back East. It’s time.”

  “‘Old lady on a dapple . . .’” began Jack before Mama put her hand over his mouth.

  Grandfather and Papa smiled.

  “Zeke, maybe,” said Aunt Lou.

  Papa looked at Mama.

  “I remember a long time ago,” he said softly. “Do you?”

  Mama nodded.

  “When I first came here I wanted to learn to ride your wildest horse, Jack, and to fix the roof . . .”

  “And to plow and almost everything else,” said Papa.

  “And she did,” said Caleb with a smile. “She wore overalls, too.”

  “I had a lot to learn,” said Mama.

  “Well, Sarah taught me how to swim when she first came here,” said Caleb.

  “In the slough?” exclaimed Aunt Harriet.

  “You bet,” said Caleb.

  “You bet,” echoed Jack, making everyone laugh.

  “I remember skinny-dipping in Maine,” Caleb said. “That water was cold.”

  “I’ll ride Zeke,” said Aunt Lou, starting to walk to the barn.

  “No,” said Papa, going after her and taking her hand. “I’ll saddle up Molly.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Grandfather. “This time we’ll take a quiet and slow ride around the slough. If that’s possible for you,” he called after Aunt Lou.

  “Boppa,” said Jack to Grandfather. He held out his arms.

  “All right, all right. A short ride,” said Grandfather.

  Grandfather, Papa, and Aunt Lou went to the paddock to bring in the horses. Jack followed Grandfather, walking just behind him, his arms behind his back like Grandfather’s.

  “Little Boppa and big Boppa,” said Caleb, making Mama laugh.

  We watched them call in the horses and saddle up, Papa lifting Jack up to ride with Grandfather. Aunt Mattie had gotten out a set of paints and a small easel. She began to paint the prairie, the browns and greens of the land, with spots of wildflowers, the blue of the huge sky.

  Aunt Lou and Grandfather and Jack slowly rode out through the meadow. Birds flew up from the grasses where they rode, redwings and meadowlarks. A vulture wheeled high against the clouds. I watched Grandfather, tall and straight, Jack in front of him, pointing at something somewhere on the prairie.

  “I hope you paint that,” I said to Aunt Mattie.

  Aunt Mattie smiled at me.

  “You don’t need a painting,” she said. “If you close your eyes you’ll see that scene forever.”

  I closed my eyes and waited. Aunt Mattie was right.

  I could see it.

  * * *

  It is nighttime. We sit under the tents, still there from the wedding.

  The aunts and William drink coffee by candlelight.

  “Sing, Boppa,” says Jack.

  There is a silence.

  “Please,” says Jack.

  Grandfather begins to sing “Billy Boy.”

  “Oh, where have you been, Billy Boy,

  Billy Boy.

  Oh, where have you been, charming

  Billy?

  I have been to seek a wife

  She’s the joy of my life.

  But she’s a young thing and cannot leave

  her mother.”

  Then Aunt Mattie sings, too, and Jack’s small voice sings the “billy boys.”

  “Can she bake a cherry pie, Billy Boy,

  Billy Boy?

  Can she bake a cherry pie, charming

  Billy?

  She can bake a cherry pie, quick’s a cat

  can blink its eye.

  But she’s a young thing and cannot leave

  her mother.”

  Jack leans back on Grandfather’s shoulder. Aunt Mattie’s knitting needles click in the dark. The moon rises. The candle flickers in the gentle prairie wind.

  I close my eyes to keep everything there.

  * * *

  11

  The photographer Joshua came to take a family picture. He waited for the aunts to comb their hair and put red on their cheeks. He grinned at Mama.

  “I remember years ago when you first came here. I took a picture of you and Jacob and Caleb—he was little then. And Anna. And the dogs.” He looked at Lottie and Nick.

  “They’re a little older now.”

  “We all are,” said Mama. “Anna married Justin this past week.”

  “So I heard,” said Joshua.

  Joshua shook Grandfather’s hand.

  “Hello, John,” he said.

  “I’m older, too,” said Grandfather with a smile.

  The aunts came out onto the porch. Aunt Harriet and Aunt Mattie wore their traveling dresses and fancy shoes. Aunt Lou wore her overalls.

  “I want to be remembered in my overalls,” said Aunt Lou.

  “You will,” said Grandfather. “Believe me, you will.”

  Mama and William laughed.

  “That’s how we think of you,” said William.

  “You see me every day,” Aunt Lou said to William. “You don’t have to remember me. But
I probably won’t get back here anytime soon.”

  Suddenly my chest felt tight.

  “You could stay longer,” I said.

  “Oh, Cassie,” said Aunt Harriet. “We have gardens to get back to. Things to take care of. Meg has been taking care of Lou’s dog.”

  My eyes filled up with tears.

  “Cassie, dear . . . ,” said Aunt Mattie, putting her arms around me. “We’d love to stay. We’ll come back again.”

  This made me cry harder.

  “Cassie, next year you can come visit us in Maine,” said William. “Would you like that?”

  I nodded.

  “But that’s next year,” I said sadly.

  “I’m ready!” called Joshua. “Gather up, everyone. Wipe those tears away, Cassie.”

  The aunts arranged themselves next to Mama and Papa. William patted the dogs. Grandfather stood next to me, Jack in his arms.

  “Wait,” said Papa. “Someone’s coming.”

  Dust rose as a car drove up the road. Mama shaded her eyes from the sun. Joshua turned to watch.

  “It’s Anna and Justin!” I said.

  “We couldn’t miss the family picture,” Anna called out the car window.

  “My first,” said Justin.

  “Not your last,” said Grandfather. “You can stand behind Cassie.”

  Anna smoothed my hair back. Justin poked me.

  “All looking here now,” called Joshua.

  “You’re not much to look at,” said Grandfather softly. “I’d rather look at Zeke in the meadow.”

  “Zeke in the meadow,” said Jack.

  We laughed, and just as I looked up at Grandfather, Joshua took a picture. Joshua took many more as the aunts laughed and the sun rose high in the sky. A wind came up and Aunt Harriet’s hat flew away. Papa ran and brought it back to her. And soon, Jack fell asleep. Grandfather handed him to Mama and put his arm around me.

  Far off, the cattle moved to the slough for water. Zeke ran with Molly along the fence. Lottie and Nick stood between Grandfather and me, their fur warm.

  “Beautiful,” said Joshua.