The Lilac Bush Is Blooming Page 17

  Carrie paused, the scent of freshly sawn wood wafting in our direction. “Let’s see how Jamie and Ethan are coming. I’ve packed them both a lunch.”

  As we neared the warehouse, once full of decay and overgrown with moss, the noise of buzz saws grew louder. The transformation was startling. The walls were built with beautiful Italian stone, the roof was imported grey slate, barn timbers gave a rustic look to the ceilings, and the large plate glass windows, roomy enough for mannequins to display the latest fashions, stood empty, the morning sunbeams playing upon the wide-planked oaken floors.

  “Are you two ready for lunch?”

  “We’re famished. You’ve arrived just in time.”

  “Well, two such hard working men deserve a good lunch. I’ve packed coffee in a thermos, Mama’s ham sandwiches, potato salad and slaw, and some strawberry pie.”

  Ethan put down his saw. “Perfect for an old bachelor like me.” Carrie set up lunch on a makeshift table and took Tad from his carriage. “I think we’ll take a look around.”

  “Better be careful on the tour. The stairs need their risers and the hardwood hasn’t arrived for the second floor.” Despite the half-finished building, Carrie could see a store bustling with customers, racks full of imports, and children begging to see the latest doll, teddy bear, and train collections. She had already designed the bags with the store’s own color and seal.

  When we returned, Carrie put the empty plates back into the hamper, Jamie and Ethan went back to work, and we strolled Main Street once again, the sun on our backs and Tad asleep in his carriage.

  As we passed the village square, placed directly in the center of Main Street, the new statue of Ebenezer Potter, village founder, stood tall in the middle of a grassy rectangle, but now mired in controversy as a replacement sculpture for the first voted in just last week by the town council and deemed by Ebenezer’s descendants, most of whom still lived in the village, to be far from a likeness of their venerated ancestor. A plaque to those from the village who had fought for their country in the wars since its founding stood in the corner. The opposite corner held bird feeders and beautiful gardens all carefully tended by the garden club.

  As we greeted the few passers-by out for a morning stroll or shoppers bent on getting in for the latest sale at Hank Peterson’s Dry Goods or dropping in for a coffee or a coke at Sandler’s and rounded the corner to Carrie’s street, greeting the elders now sitting on their porches to catch the afternoon sun, I mentally wished success for a department store built in a village most thought to be out in the middle of nowhere, backed only by the enthusiasm of youth.

  Carrie put Tad in for his nap and I tidied up the parlor and the backyard, now strewn with toys. The daffodils and tulips, planted lovingly by the previous owners, were now in full bloom. I looked beyond the dilapidated and unused barn behind the property toward the horizon into which, despite its mist, I was certain I could see forever.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The opening of Taylor’s department store came earlier than expected. Jason Pierce who owned a construction company in Mayberry finished an out-of-town job earlier than expected and came over to Pottersville to lend a hand to Jamie and Ethan. The sign over the front door spelled out “Taylor’s” in large red cursive letters, a design created and constructed by a Syracuse sign company that shipped all over the world.

  The weather was perfect and the crowds came in from all over, especially invited by Jamie and his folks, and by Carrie who enlisted the help of her former college mates and co-workers from Bloomingdales. A friend of Jamie’s drove a limousine from the Syracuse airport and met people at the train station as well.

  Mama and I spent time fussing over our outfits, ironing and primping, and adding the corsages Carrie insisted we wear. Alfonso Potter, the mailman who had taken over the route from Ken Walden who had retired after forty years of service, rang the bell, an armful of mail spilling out of his leather pouch. “I thought I’d come to the door today, Marylee, on such a special occasion. The whole town’s buzzing.”

  “We’re very proud of Carrie and Jamie. We want to make this day special for them.”

  “I think you’ve got a head start, Marylee. That number you’re wearing ought to dazzle the daylights out of those out-of-towners.”

  “Why, thank you, Alfonso. I had it made by the best seamstress in all of Onondaga County, Sophie Archer, who spent a year in Italy learning how to sew as an apprentice to some of the greatest fashion designers in the world.”

  “I’ve got a special delivery from Georgie. You need to sign.”

  “He’s never sent anything special delivery before. It must be something important.

  “Thank you, Alfonso, and say ‘hello’ to Maddy.”

  “Will do. And, you two have the time of your lives. You both deserve it. The way you kept this farm going after Tyler went was a sight to behold. Have a cup of punch for me.”

  Mama fluffed up the skirt of the floral cotton she was wearing and fixed its flounce, the hem longer than usual in a bid to keep up with the newer fashions that would be hitting the stores this fall. She pulled out the straw hat Carrie had found her in Bloomie’s, perfect for a hot summer day. She pinned on the orchid corsage Jamie’s mother had sent, along with a note congratulating her and letting her know the orchid was the latest cross breed accepted into the poshest orchid society in the nation.

  “I feel like a peacock.”

  “Mama, you look beautiful.”

  “If Papa could see me now he’d wonder what had become of me.”

  “He’d think you were the same beauty he married not long after he met you.”

  “Well, let’s open John George’s mail.”

  As Mama slit open the manila envelope a letter and several photographs slipped out of the packet. Mama laid them out in a line and opened the letter.

  “Dear Mama, Carrie and Annie May,

  I miss you all more than I can say. This place is lonely and the climate is very humid with hills covered with dense forests. I cannot wait until I can be home again.

  I have sent you some photographs of the city of Saigon which a buddy of mine took on a weekend pass when we toured the city. I have also sent a picture of Anh Ly, a girl I met in Saigon at a USO dance. She is kind and shy and her smile lights up the room. We were married this weekend because I have heard several rumors that our unit will soon be sent to the front.

  I plan to bring Anh Ly home as soon as I am mustered out. She very much wants to come to America and can’t wait to meet you.

  I can’t write much more because it will soon be lights out. But, I hope the farm is thriving and harvest time will reap the biggest crops ever.

  I love you all and hope the best fortunes will shine on all of you. I can’t wait to see you.

  Your loving son and brother,

  John George

  Mama took a deep breath, then spoke. “We must be happy for John George. He’s so far away from home.

  “He’s so young for marrying. But, Papa and I were that age when we eloped against both our parents’ wishes.

  “I will send Anh Ly a ring I’ve kept for safekeeping handed down from Granny’s kin and a length of homespun turned out from Alma Peterson’s loom.

  “Now, we must get to Carrie’s. That store, with all its newfangled do-dads, must be hopping by now. Why they are even getting in some elves that turn and do a dance for the Christmas windows.”

  As Mama and I drove into Pottersville, the windows of the truck wide open to let the summer air in, Mama hanging onto her hat despite the pearl tipped hat pin Carrie had included with the hat box she had shipped from New York, I thought of Georgie getting married in such a strange place.

  I had lost Carrie to Jamie and now I had lost Georgie to a girl from a far-away land I didn’t even know. Despite the excitement of the grand opening loneliness was setting in.

  I decided to put on a good face for Mama’s sake. After all, her pride in Carrie was plain to see.

  I
followed the parade that was marching down Main Street, heralding the grand opening of Taylor’s department store. I parked in a field behind the former abandoned warehouse and helped Mama out, her new shoes pinching a bit and the skirt of her new dress threatening to blow with the wind.

  The squirrels in the field were dashing off to the side and the crowds had trampled the daisies. But, the wild vetch and the lupines and asters had survived.

  The sun was beaming down from a cloudless sky and birds, sent from their perches by the noise of the crowds were chirping everywhere and looking for a place to roost.

  As we walked toward the refurbished structure finished in sandstone, the elegance of urban chic contrasting with unplanned rural sprawl, a large red banner announcing the grand opening draped above the plate glass doors of the entrance, their sleek, modern lines softened by a scrolled mahogany framing, I hoped only that my mint green linen topped by a beige summer jacket would stay uncreased until the festivities were over.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The summer after my first year as a full-time teacher at Baldwinsville High was a balmy and humid one. Nevertheless, the wild roses and geraniums bloomed in the meadows and the wild lilies were more spectacular than ever. Uncle John, used to all kinds of weather, still sprayed, cultivated and fertilized, despite the pesky flies and mosquitoes that came out on the wettest days.

  Taylor’s department store was thriving and Carrie was expecting a baby in fall. Tad was thrilled and was helping to decorate the nursery while Mama was filling drawers with infant overalls, baby bonnets, and fancy crocheted sweaters.

  Jeb, who had visited from time to time, was taking a week off to stay and soak up the farm life. Will, who had returned from research in New York to set up a veterinary practice, had volunteered to take him on a working tour the moment he arrived, letting him off on his own to try his hand at cultivating and fertilizing the cabbages and beans, the squash and the pumpkins, all county fair winners gleaned from Georgie’s cross-breeding, and the many fields of feed corn Uncle John had turned to for cash crop.

  Jeb arrived, tanned and fit after a Hawaii vacation with Martha and Peter and his latest conquest. “How’s the new teacher?”

  “Had a great year. How about you?”

  “Company’s doing fine. We’re turning a profit and expanding with an added facility overseas. Dad’s beside himself with joy. The company that destroyed him with the unethical takeover is sinking fast. They can’t keep up with the competition.

  “We’ve been able to attract the best and the brightest. They’re vying to be with us. We’ve got the most modern facilities in the business and we’ve put in a great work ethic. All the Ph.Ds. get a month off to study in a vacation spot anywhere in the world. We’ve had requests for climates as sunny as Mexico and Brazil, and as wet as the Amazon rainforests. They’ve really come through for us. We’ve got patents galore for a company so short a time in business.”

  “I’m so glad for you, Jeb. You deserve it. You’ve put in a lot of hours chasing across continents to catch the latest research first-hand. It looks like it has paid off.

  “And I’m glad for your dad too. He had a lot of faith in you.

  “Now, let’s go see Mama. She’s been waiting to feed you and put a little meat on you because she is certain city folk don’t eat right.”

  Mama, smitten by Jeb’s good humor and sunny disposition early on, went right to the stove to stir the pot roast gravy, dish up the mashed potatoes, and set out her green bean casserole fresh from the oven all perfectly browned and crisped.

  “Mrs. Parker, you look wonderful. It must be all those hours in the sun tending those beautiful gardens which have bloomed like a magazine picture.”

  “Now, Jeb, you stop flattering me and eat. You’re a little too thin this visit.”

  “It must be that I haven’t had time to check in on you and Annie May this year too often. New York and Paris chefs don’t know a thing about down home cooking.”

  “Well, it looks like you forget to eat while you’re flitting all over Europe. Now, you sit down and dig in.

  “How are your parents? They must have a time keeping track of you.”

  “They’re fine. And, of course, my mother wants me to settle down as usual. But, I’m way too busy for that. Someday I might surprise her if I find someone who is half the girl Annie May is.”

  “You eat up and we’ll put some meat on you for all those trips to Europe. I have a fresh baked cherry pie cooling on the sill and some fresh made ice cream from Stuarts’ dairy down the road.”

  Jeb sent Mama to the parlor while we did the dishes and scrubbed the pots, making sure every last one was in its proper place. Jeb looked fine with a dish towel in his hand.

  “And, what is that vehicle you have parked in the driveway?”

  “That’s an MG roadster, conservative enough to satisfy the old guard and exciting enough to catch the risk takers. It’s a bid to look successful in a competitive market. And, I got it in a swap directly from London so no cash outlay.

  “Maybe we’ll take a spin when I’m done in by farm work.”

  “I’ll come prepared. It doesn’t look as slow as Mama’s trusty old truck.”

  “I think I’ll turn in. It’s been a long drive.”

  “See you very early in the morning. Farm days are half over before Manhattan is out of bed.”

  “Will do. Dream of a rosy future.”

  Will was at the farm at four a.m. ready to roll Jeb out of bed but Jeb was dressed and ready with boots and coveralls and a hat he had purchased at an Agway on the road two towns over. Uncle John was happy to have Will back, even though it was for only a week.

  Will and Jeb hit it off right away. The week went fast, Jeb’s muscles ached, but he was even tanner and more fit than when he had arrived. He left just like he came, on the road at eight in the morning with a package of Mama’s best cookies and a ham and cheese to stave off his hunger until he arrived back in Brooklyn.

  As I watched Jeb’s car disappear into the horizon, clouds of dust in its wake, I thought of Georgie, so far from home in a land of relentless heat and densely forested mountains. I must remember to pack up some photos of the cabbages and squash almost ready for early harvest and include some of Mama’s oatmeal raisin cookies and a few trinkets for Anh Ly.

  With the sun hard upon my back the warmth of summer was in the air. I picked up my pace and hurried back into the kitchen. Mama would need help cleaning up the pile of dishes from the pancakes and slab bacon breakfast she served in a last ditch effort to fill out Jeb’s lanky frame.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  It was a gray day when two uniformed officers from the Syracuse armory arrived to give us the news that Georgie had been killed by an enemy sniper as he was carrying the wounded to safety. The officers left with us some letters written by Georgie’s buddies praising his courage and the little kindnesses he was known for among his comrades.

  Mama was inconsolable and I had an empty place in my heart where Georgie had always been. The two officers from the armory presented Mama with an American flag and Pastor Brown gave a eulogy as we laid Georgie to rest in the small family graveyard up on the far hill next to Papa.

  Aunt Maybelle drove from Lancaster County to be with Mama and Josie, who had become very fond of Georgie, came in from Washington where she and Max had been married at City Hall and Max had begun a job with the State Department. Will popped in as often as he could to provide a male presence.

  Carrie was beside herself and lent a hand whenever she could. She peeled potatoes and made endless casseroles so Mama wouldn’t have to cook.

  “Josie, you look radiant. Marriage seems to agree with you.”

  “As much as I’ve seen of it. It was a whirlwind marriage so Max could take a job he so much wanted. But, we promised our folks a more formal wedding in Iowa and posh reception in New York so until then we are vagabonds.

  “Max is the perfect husband. He cooks and keeps the cars running wh
ile I head for the couch after a day of job searching.”

  “You sound like the ideal couple. You better watch out that a D.C. magazine doesn’t run a story on you before you’ve had a chance to settle down.

  You should be ready to be snapped up by the farming industry while you’re there. I hear you designed a whole new thresher while you were in Boston.”

  “I did. But, the patent belongs to Middleton’s in Boston so they’ll be manufacturing it and I won’t see it until it’s on somebody’s farm.”

  “Well, you’ll know you’ve made a contribution to modernizing farming.”

  “My father will think it’ll get in the way of real farming. He loathes modern equipment.

  “I checked with The Smithsonian to see if there were jobs in the farm equipment exhibit but they told me to come back in six weeks. And, Max doesn’t know where he’ll be assigned when he finishes training. I think I’m a girl without a job.”

  “Things will look up when you’re settled and Max has a firm assignment. Until then, I’m going to enlist your help for a skillet of fried potatoes Iowa style for supper.”

  “Will do. And, I think I’ll get those clothes out of the washer and through the ringer so I can get them out on the clothes line before dark.”

  “Josie, you’ve been such a help. I don’t know what I would have done without you this week.”

  “I think you would have done just fine. But, Georgie was like a little brother to me. When Kenny left home there was such a gap but Georgie helped fill it.

  “And, his joy in farming was catching. His face lit up at the sight of a new spring seed catalogue.”

  “Georgie’s life was in those fields. I never remember a day when he wasn’t on Papa’s lap at planting time, barely able to talk yet, and begging to drive the tractor.

  “I’m going in to start supper. Mama has barely eaten in the last few days. I’m going to see if your skillet potatoes will tempt her. I’ll get a start on the pot roast.”