Pages of Promise (15 page)

Mona was expected, so Logan arrived within a few minutes, and soon they were at the house. Anne came out to greet her. They hugged and kissed, and Mona said, “I’ve come to freeload on you a while, Aunt Anne.”

“Why, don’t talk so foolish. Me and Logan are always glad to see our folks come. Now, I know you’re tired, so how about the room in front up there. It looks out on the road and the fields. The one with the pretty pink wallpaper.”

“That’s just the room I would have picked.” Mona smiled.
The wallpaper is hideous,
she thought, but the bed was comfortable, and Logan carried her suitcase up, then excused himself to get back to some chores. As she unpacked, Mona asked Anne, “How’s Richard? Do you see him often?”

“Oh, he seems real well, though he got in some kind of brawl a while back. He stays over at the Vine, but we see him all the time. Logan goes over, or Richard comes here.”

“What about that place? I’ve heard a lot of stories about it.”

“I think they’re just young people who want to get away from the world. Think some of ’em have a pretty bad background, but they don’t cause no trouble,” she added. Anne was a small, rather frail, woman, showing her age now, which was sixty-three. She was plain and had never been pretty, but Logan loved her and had married her and had raised her children, Helen, Ray, and Violet, as if they were his own. And they’d had a son together, Clinton.

“I think I’ll lie down for a while, then I’ll come and help you fix supper.”

“Won’t do no such thing! You take a bath and lie down, then put on some old clothes and you come down and eat with me and Logan.”

“All right, Aunt Anne.”

Following Anne’s direction, Mona took a bath, then lay down and went instantly to sleep. When she awoke, she was startled to see that it was growing dark outside. She put on a pair of old faded jeans and a blue shirt with long sleeves, and after fixing her hair, she went downstairs. Logan was there and he came over to give her a kiss. “I always like to kiss beautiful movie stars,” he said. “Now sit down and tell us all about that movie.”

The table was piled high with country cooking including baked ham, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and home-canned vegetables from the summer just past. Mona paid for her meal by entertaining the older couple with tales of how the movie was made. She was interrupted with exclamations such as “I swan!” and “You don’t mean it!”

“Don’t know if Richard will want to see a movie about the war in Korea. He’s tryin’ to forget it,” said Anne.

“That’s probably true, but the country needs to know what our men over there went through. They’ve signed a truce, but who knows if that will last, and there needs to be a record of what happened,” Mona said.

“Guess that’s so,” Logan said. “I remember I never appreciated Owen’s medal until I saw that movie with Gary Cooper, you know,
Sergeant York
. Owen don’t ever talk about his time overseas, but when I saw that film I thought, that fella, York, he’s just like Owen. Good ol’ country boy who did his job. And I guess Richard done the same thing.”

After dinner, they sat in front of the television and watched
George Burns and Gracie Allen;
then Mona yawned and said, “I had a long nap, but I’m still sleepy.”

“You go on up to bed, honey,” Anne said, patting her shoulder. “Sleep late in the morning. After you get up, I’ll fix you a good breakfast.”

Mona went to bed and left the window open a crack. It was October, and the smell of the hills was a raw, wild odor that came to her filled with evergreens and the fruitful earth, the time of harvest. She lay down in the feather bed and laughed when she disappeared. She pulled up a quilt that her grandmother Marian Stuart had made, and she lay for a while listening to the sounds that came from the outside—the cries of night birds and a far-off coyote singing his lonesome song, and she drifted off to dreamless sleep.

“Why don’t you drive over and see Richard?” Anne said. “Or you can ride; we got a nice saddle hoss called Minnie.”

“I’d like to. Be good to get out in the open.”

“Well, I’ll have Logan saddle ’er up for you.”

“I can do that,” Mona said. She had loved horses as a girl, and after breakfast she went out and found Logan examining his beehives.

“I’m going to ride over to see Richard,” she said. “How do I get there?”

“Well, you can’t hardly get lost.” He grinned. After giving her instructions, he said, “Tell Richard to come over and shove his feet under the table.”

“All right. I’ll tell him.” Moving out to the pasture, she called the roan mare, who came and took the apple that Mona had brought to entice her. Opening the gate, Mona led her into the barn and put the bridle on her. Then she put on the blanket, fastened the saddle, and adjusted the stirrups. She led the horse out of the barn, swung into the saddle, and touched her with her heel. “Let’s go, Minnie!” she said cheerfully.

She left the farm and passed through orchards laden with apples, the smell rich on the air. She stopped under a tree, pulled an apple off and ate it, enjoying the firm, white flesh and the delicious taste. Logan’s directions were fairly simple, and soon she saw the buildings in the curve of the river, as if held in the crook of an elbow. As she rode up, she saw an elderly woman sitting outside. “Howdy, missy,” the old woman said, in a strong voice surprisingly deep. “Climb off that hoss and set a spell.”

“Thanks. I believe I will. Is this the Vine?”

“Yep.” The elderly woman watched Mona dismount and then said, “You can turn that pony into that corral over there. Might be a little hay for ’er, too.”

Following the instructions, Mona returned after shutting the gate. “I’m looking for Richard Stuart. He’s a relative of mine. My name’s Mona Stuart.”

“Well, he ain’t here right now, but he orta be back soon. Why don’t you set and wait.”

Mona came over, and the old woman rose. “I’m Granny Stevens,” she said. She put out a work-hardened hand, which Mona shook. “You’re from the city, I take it?”

“That’s right.”

“Looks like your kinfolk comin’ now.”

Mona turned to see Richard, who had appeared from around the corner of the building accompanied by a tall man. Richard was wearing his fatigue jacket, and the other man was wearing a denim jacket worn white with many washings.

“Why, Mona!” Richard called and waved when he saw her. He hurried over and hugged her and kissed her cheek. “I’m glad to see you. Are you staying with Uncle Logan and Aunt Anne? How long can you stay?” He smiled at her and rattled on, not giving her time to even answer.

His companion came up and Richard turned and said, “Tom, this is the famous actress Mona Stuart.”

Richard’s companion smiled and said, “I’m Tom Henderson, Miss Stuart.”

“What in the world are you doing here, Mona?” Richard asked.

“I needed to get a little rest, and this is about the most restful place I know of.”

“I think so.” Richard stopped and looked at Tom. “I’m glad you came, but I’ve got to work on that truck. I have to get it fixed this morning so we can take one of the kids to a doctor appointment in Fort Smith. I’m sorry I can’t take time to show you around now. Can you come back over tomorrow?”

“Well, yes, I can do that.”

Henderson said, “Richard’s our only mechanic, Miss Stuart. But I’d be happy to show you around. I see you rode over. I can saddle up in a couple of minutes. Be glad to have you stay for lunch with us, too, if you’d like.”

Mona hesitated—after all, she’d never met this man before, but Richard nodded approval. And Mona noticed that the tall man was quite good-looking—always a persuasive argument with her. “Well, I would like to see the place, and I’ll be here long enough for you and me to get caught up, Richard. Logan told me to invite you to supper.”

“It’s settled then. Let me saddle up, and I’ll give you the grand tour,” said Tom.

“That would be fine.” After Henderson headed toward the barn, Mona said, “I’m glad to see you looking so fit and strong, Richard. I was concerned when I saw you at Christmas. I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk then.”

“I’m pretty fully recuperated, Mona. Inside, I think, as well as physically. Funny thing, how work heals,” he said. “Look, we’ll talk later. I have to get that truck going.”

Mona went back to the corral and led her horse out. She mounted when Henderson came back on a rangy bay, and the two of them rode out. It was a pleasant experience.

As they talked together, mostly about the work that went on around the Vine, Mona was puzzled. Henderson was lean, and the wind and the sun had weathered his face, but he did not seem to be a farmer. He dropped a couple of names, including Tolstoy and Dickens, not ostentatiously, but enough so that her interest was piqued.

“Are you a farmer, Tom?”

“I guess we’re all farmers here,” he said. His eyes were sweeping the skies, but he turned to face her. He had steely blue-gray eyes, and his dark beard looked soft. It was clipped short, and it gave him a rakish look. “I guess you’re wondering, like everybody else, what kind of a place this is?”

“Well, I must admit I’m curious. Richard’s family seems a little curious, too.”

Tom laughed. He had a pleasant laugh, and his eyes crinkled. “Everybody thinks we’re living ‘communally’ here, but if you stay around long enough you’ll see that it’s not like that.”

“Well, what sort of place is the Vine? What’s it for?”

“That’s a little hard to answer,” Henderson said. He leaned over and patted the bay on the shoulder and thought about the question for a moment before he answered. He pulled up, and her horse stopped beside his. “Over there’s where we’re going to put in a new orchard,” he said. “Apples and pears. Takes a long time to grow an orchard, but people have to think ahead.” He turned to her then and shifted his weight in the saddle. “What kind of a place is this? I guess you might call it a hospital, in a way. Most of us here have been bruised by the system. We agree with what Wordsworth said.” He quoted the poem slowly,

“This world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours.

“I guess that’s our story. We’ve been wasted out there, so we’ve come here to try and find ourselves.”

“But people find themselves sometimes in the city, in the busy world.”

“Some maybe, but I couldn’t handle it. None of us here could. Jefferson said, ‘God made the country, but man made the town.’” He suddenly laughed and said, “Here I am spouting all this to a city girl. This is not for everyone,” he said, growing more serious.

“I see what you mean, Tom. I think Richard needs something like this,” Mona said thoughtfully. “He was badly cut up in the war, inside, I mean.”

“Yes, he was, but he’s getting better all the time. He won’t stay here forever. Most people don’t.”

“What about you?”

“Me? Ah, I’m just the old man back in the hills.” He smiled at her. “Now, tell me something about this movie you’ve been making. I’ve heard something of it from Logan. What’s it about?”

They rode along, and although Mona had left the city to rest after the rigors of the movie, as they moved along under the reds and golds and yellows of the leaves, with the fall scents and sounds in the air, she found it relieved her to talk about it. She talked, as a matter of fact, until they wound around and came back to the house. Laughing self-consciously, she said, “Talk about a gabby woman. I haven’t talked this much in years—without getting paid for it.”

“Sounds like a good movie,” Tom said. “The kind we need more of.”

“You see many movies?”

He hesitated, then swung down. When she dismounted to stand beside him, he said, “Used to.”

Something in his tone caught her attention. “You don’t like the movies?”

“Now that wouldn’t be tactful of me to answer, would it, Mona? Come on. Let’s go see what’s for lunch.”

The lunch was delicious, and she found the people to be simple and kind; most of all, she was pleased with Richard. She did notice that his eyes went often to a young woman named Laurel, who had a little boy that seemed to be hers. Mona determined to ask Richard about her later on.

Afterward, she helped clear away, then she talked for a while with Richard. She had to tell all about the movie again, and he said, “I don’t know much about things like that, but Tom does. You ought to see the books he’s got in his room. He tries to get me to read ’em, and I don’t know what they’re about. Art, music, theater.”

Mona turned with interest to the tall man who was sitting loosely in a cane-backed chair. His eyes were lowered, but he lifted them and smiled at her. “Don’t listen to what he says. I don’t understand half of those books myself.”

“I don’t believe that.” Mona smiled; she looked very pretty even dressed in casual clothing. When it came time to leave, she said good-bye to several of the people she’d met. She put out her hand to Tom and said, “I enjoyed talking with you, especially about the movie. I hope we’ll get to talk some more.”

“Sure,” Tom nodded. “Come over any time. We never close.”

She gave an account at supper of her visit, and Logan raised one eyebrow saying, “Hardly figure those folks out, especially Tom. He’s got country sense.”

“What does that mean, Uncle Logan?”

“Oh, it just means that he’s one of those men that always knows the right thing to do and the right thing to say. Why, he could be anything, a politician, college professor, a preacher if he had a mind to.”

The next week Mona found herself going every day to the Vine. There was little to do around the home place, and she enjoyed the ride. She liked Richard, of course, but found him most often engaged in some activity that took his attention, usually involving Laurel.

The big project for a few days was canning apples and applesauce and making apple butter. “Granny makes the best apple pie you ever tasted,” said Tom. Mona peeled apples and tended the canner like everybody else.

By Thursday they had finished, and she and Tom were taking a walk through the woods. She had been amazed to find that he seemed to know everything about movies, even the history of them back to the silent days. He had strong ideas, and as they walked through the woods, the fallen leaves crackling under their feet, she took offense at something he said about modern-day movies. She stopped and said, “Tom, you’re just obstinate and old-fashioned! You remind me of Uncle Logan. The last good movie he saw was Ken Maynard in
Here Comes Trouble
.”