Someday Home (19 page)

Angela was standing beyond some bushes, indicating exactly where to place Judith's dream. And she was right. Paint it brown and one would never notice it. The coop settled into place.

Harry used the forklift to unload the rolls of wire and big cartons with the poultry equipment. He drove it back up on the truck bed, blocked its wheels, and tied it down. All that heavy lifting, and one callow young man did it by barely raising a finger. With a cheerful wave from the driver, the truck rumbled away.

Judith grabbed the top flaps of one box and tugged. It took her and Angela together to rip the box open. She lifted out the shiny aluminum dome of a brand-new waterer. She laughed. “Some assembly required!”

“Wait.” Angela raised a hand. “I have an idea. Let's pause on this until Lynn cools down and then get her to help. Get her involved from the very beginning. I'm hoping she'll feel a little better about it if she's in on it from the start. Almost the start.”

Judith didn't have to think about that for long. “Good idea, Angela!”

Her cell rang. She answered.

“This is Phillip. Mom tells me we're in the chicken business.”

“Phillip! I'm glad you called. I'm sure she told you I bought a chicken coop without a household conference. That's true; it was an impulse purchase. I wanted to call you just now and didn't know how to do it. You see, I am not looking for allies in a war, and I was afraid you'd get that impression. No, I'd just like to know the best way to approach Lynn. You've known her your whole life. Any suggestions?”

She thought she heard him chuckling. “Well, Judith, you have an ally anyway. I think when Mom got this house-sharing idea, she pictured two complacent people with no personal needs, desires, or opinions and they'd think exactly like she does. I won't tell her, ‘I told you so,' that's for sure. But I can think it. Is your coop on skids?”

“Yes.”

“Don't mark off a fence or anything yet. Tom and I will come over late this afternoon and pour some cement footings to get the skids up off the dirt. Did—”

“Oh, dear. It's big; the young man unloaded it with a forklift.”

Phillip chuckled. “They're not the only ones with a forklift. Did you get chickens?”

“I have absolutely no idea how to go about getting chickens.”

“Hold off on that. Did Harry deliver steel fence posts?”

“No. Big rolls of wire. Poultry netting for a six-by-eight yard, the invoice says.”

“Yard gate?”

Judith studied the jumble of materials. “I don't think so.”

“Tom and I will come by with what you need. See you later.”

“I…Thank you, Phillip.” She swiped the line closed. He had not offered any advice on how to approach Lynn. Oh, well. If the chicken coop killed this whole deal, maybe it was God's will. Lynn seemed to read God's will pretty well. But Judith no longer had the slightest idea how to recognize it, let alone respond to it. It certainly had not been manifest to her lately.

Angela motioned. “I'm going to dig up the geranium bed out front; it's what I was going to do anyway, before all this.” She left.

Well, then, into the lion's den. Judith went indoors and paused outside the kitchen. Lynn had her back turned to her. She was mixing up a huge amount of dough of some sort; almost violently, it seemed. Quite likely she was getting started on hot dog buns for the Fourth. This was probably not the best time for a cooking lesson.

Who would know everything she needed? The hardware store. She got in her car and drove there.

The young woman who had first approached her was still working the front of the store. Judith flagged her down as soon as she pointed out the gardening section to an old lady.

“Where do I obtain chickens and supplies, like feed?” Judith asked.

“Miller's Feed. You go out of town on—”

“We bought cat and dog food there, I believe.”

“Good. That's where. They sell farm supplies.”

Judith got back in the car and drove out to the feedstore. And she noticed that this area was not quite the strange place it had felt like when she arrived. She was starting to know her way around. Was her increasing comfort perhaps a sign of God's will?

She spent a few minutes in the feedstore simply walking up and down aisles. What an amazing place. There was nothing quite like it in Rutherford. This store also sold chicken coops, both full-size and table high, but their coops cost more and they had no specials on. Judith felt a little better about her purchase. The toy section was almost all green tractors and yellow trucks and a huge case of miniature farm animals. And here were aisles of food. Dog, cat, rabbit, hamster, goldfish, koi, horse, calf, you name it—and yes, chickens. But not just chickens. This bag was for chicks; that one was labeled “laying mash.” Judith had expected—you know, just plain old chicken feed.

She returned to the front and got a cart. She pushed it over to an older man stocking shelves. “Excuse me. I'm going to be getting some chickens and I'm not certain just what to buy in the way of supplies.”

“Have you raised chickens before?”

“Not since early childhood.”

He smiled and walked off toward the feed aisles. “Do you have the chickens yet?”

“No. We're pouring footings for the coop this afternoon.” Oh, my, that sounded as if she knew what she was doing!
Ha.
She tagged along behind.

He nodded. Maybe she did know what she was doing. “Do you have a brooder?”

She thought a moment. “For babies? No.”

“I'd suggest checking want ads for grown chickens for starting out. Get a brooder and raise chicks after you've gotten your feet wet.” He slapped a bag. “This is very good for hens, and it's a little cheaper than the name brands.”

“I always thought chicken feed was cheap, as in ‘that ain't chicken feed.'”

“It goes a long way, especially if you have an outside run.” He laughed and slapped his hand on bags. “This stuff is good for chicks, and I recommend this laying mash if they're producing eggs. It provides minerals and amino acids they need. Just a side dish of it, so to speak.”

“Thank you!”

“We have sawdust out back. If you spread sawdust on the coop floor you'll find it's easier to keep clean. My wife also lays down newsprint.”

As he continued, Judith tried to keep it all straight. This was a far more complex process than she remembered. But then she thought about their pretty little speckled hen and the barred Plymouth Rocks, and…and…and she got excited all over again.

She wouldn't get feed yet, but she would get the sawdust and paper now. Assemble the waterer and feed trough. Have the coop all ready for its denizens.

On the way out she passed a huge corkboard with notices tacked all over it.
Oh!
There was a picture of very pretty, plump, tan chickens. Buff Orpingtons, it said, three years old. Free to a good home! The picture and caption took up the top half of the notice; the bottom half was cut vertically into strips and each strip had a phone number. Judith tore off one of the strips and pocketed it. She would call when she got home.

When she got home.
That surprised her; she was thinking of this as home already. But what if Lynn was angry enough to kick her out?

The paper came in a heavy roll that nearly tipped her cart over. She managed to lift it into the backseat and toss her big bag of sawdust into the trunk. A few more forays like this and she would be ready to compete with weight lifters.

When she drove into the yard and parked in front of her garage bay, another dilemma: Where to keep all the supplies and such? She could put the paper and sawdust in the garage for now and ask Phillip later.

In the front yard, empty pots and flats were scattered all over. Angela, on her knees, was just putting in the last of several dozen geraniums. They lined the front porch, a modest row of red that, in a month or so, would not be modest at all.

And out back, a Paul's Plumbing pickup was parked and the coop sat on the forks of a forklift even bigger than the hardware store's. Tom and Phillip were pouring slurpy cement into narrow rectangular footing holes lined with boards.

Phillip did some final magic with a shovel and stepped back. “These will be ready tomorrow. We brought another sixteen feet of netting to lay on the ground; we'll wire it to the vertical netting so that nothing can dig under the fence to get your chickens.”

She almost had tears in her eyes. “I am so grateful, Phillip. Tom.”

Tom joined them, grinning. “Actually, this looks kind of fun. Know what kind of chickens you want?”

“I have a phone number here offering Buff Orpingtons. Apparently, getting grown-up chickens is easier.”

Tom nodded. “We can set the posts this afternoon and stretch the netting after the coop is in place. That's quite a nice little chicken shack. I saw the price. We probably couldn't build it for that. Good buy.”

“Thank you. I wish Lynn thought so.”

Phillip stepped in front of her and looked her in the eye. “My mother has always run the show. This housemate thing was her idea, but she didn't think everything through. In this situation she can't be the only queen on the throne, but she'll adjust. She always does, even when Dad died. Still, it will be hard for her.”

Tom chimed in. “You have serious adjustments to make. Angela's are even more difficult; she's been dumped. Rejected. That's always tough. Give Mom and Angela the room to make their adjustments, and make your own. We will support all three of you.”

“Thank you.”

The men went back to setting steel posts, squaring off corners.

Judith noticed that the coop had looked much larger in the store than it appeared here, nestled behind a bush. No matter. It was a good start to a dream come true.

When people say “a dream come true,” they surely don't realize how difficult and painful realizing dreams can be.

G
ood morning, Lynn.” Judith entered the kitchen to find Lynn already baking something. And it wasn't even breakfast yet.

“Good morning, Judith.” No smile, no cheer.

Judith thought about this. Actually, she had been thinking about it almost constantly, and she could not see a clear direction to go.

She walked over to the stove and stood right next to Lynn. “When I was growing up—in fact, when I was an adult—my father would announce his decisions. There were never discussions, or meetings, or even him asking what we felt or wanted. Meetings and discussions are foreign ground to me. I didn't think of them and that offended you. I am very sorry. Will you forgive me?”

Lynn met her eye to eye for a long, long moment. “Yes. You are forgiven. Of course.” And she turned, picked up an oven mitt, and peeked inside the oven.

Funny, Judith didn't feel forgiven. But she had done what she could and she had done it sincerely. She really was sorry she hadn't stopped to think. She opened the refrigerator and got out two eggs. Hen fruit. Cackleberries. Chickens. She smiled in spite of herself. Lynn's displeasure was the only cloud in her sky.

Lynn was indeed making hot dog and hamburger buns. She pulled two big sheets of buns out and put them on cooling racks.

Judith poured some coffee, leaned on her elbows, and watched Lynn.

Lynn paused to look at her.

Judith waved a hand toward all the buns. “I'm thinking about cooling racks of all things. Your cooling racks get the most traffic of any cooling racks I've ever heard of. Cook only had one and she only used it for pot roast. Hot dog and hamburger buns came from supermarket shelves, not Grandma's oven. And I'm rejoicing in how different my life suddenly is.”

Lynn smiled, but it was not her usual cheery smile. “So much is different, that's for sure. For all of us.”

“Lynn, I truly am sorry I acted impulsively. I'll try not to do it again.”

“I know. And I truly forgave you.”

What next? Judith could think of nothing else to say, so she made her breakfast as Lynn busied herself washing out bowls and bagging buns.

Then she returned to her room and started to call the number of the farm with chickens.
Wait.
She'd best make sure her pen was ready first. She went outside and around the corner of the house to see how her chicken coop looked.

And stopped cold. Phillip and Lynn stood nose to nose, and the conversation was not happy-smiley. Quietly, Judith moved closer until she could eavesdrop. This was wrong, so very wrong, but she did it anyway.

Lynn was saying, “You ask why I'm upset? I'll tell you why I'm upset. Judith admitted she made a big mistake, and she apologized. But you two! You betrayed me! You both know I don't want chickens, but you took her side! And helped her set up! When you know what my wishes are!”

Oh, dear.
So that was why Lynn was so upset. Judith had made such a mess!

Suddenly Phillip reached out and engulfed his mother in a big bear hug. She struggled for a moment, then melted against him sobbing. “Mom, you know without a doubt we love you. We were not betraying you. You have two grown women—I might even say women old enough to be kind of set in their ways—and they are not always going to want exactly what you want, and not want what you don't want. Sometimes they'll want what they want. This is one of those times.”

The sobbing continued.

Phillip purred, “What would Dad say about this? If we're at cross-purposes, let's do what he would want.”

At first Judith didn't think Lynn was going to reply. Then she drew a breath so deep Judith could hear it. “He probably wouldn't give a hang whether there were chickens in his backyard or not.”

Phillip chuckled. “Remember when Lillian decided to raise geese? We had goose droppings everywhere you walk. At least Judith's chickens will be limited in where they make deposits.”

“And we never did get to eat any of her geese.” Lynn hiccuped. Or was it a sob? She stood up straight and wiped her eyes. Phillip handed her a tissue and she blew.

Here came a Paul's Plumbing pickup into the yard. Tom got out. “Whoa. What am I missing?”

Lynn shuddered. “Nothing much. I'll explain, then.”

Judith carefully backed away before someone noticed her. She hurried around to the front and into the house.

Angela was just coming into the kitchen.

How much should Judith reveal of what she allegedly had never heard?
Nothing.

Angela stretched. “I can't believe I'm up and out before nine. I didn't even hit the snooze button this morning.”

“Congratulations. Lynn was worried you might be ill. She would even go in and check on you now and then.”

Angela froze in midstep between the counter and the refrigerator. She looked at Judith a long moment and then continued to the fridge. “You don't say.” She set out the half-and-half and poured herself a coffee.

“I think the boys are here. I'm going to go see how my chicken project is coming.” Judith went out the back door and walked across to behind the garage.

Lynn was standing aside watching as Tom sat at the wheel of the pickup and Phillip wired some of the poultry netting to the end post closest to the coop.

Tom put the truck in gear and very slowly, carefully backed up. Judith now saw that the truck was attached to a fence stretcher—or the stretcher was attached to the truck—and they were stretching the netting.

Phillip wired the netting firmly to the middle steel post, then to the front corner post. Tom moved the truck forward, then off to the side. They stretched the poultry wire between the corner and the center post.

Lynn went back inside. Judith stood gaping as these two boys—well, they were men, but half Judith's age made them boys—hung the gate between the two posts set in the middle of the second side. They set some braces to keep the posts straight. They had never built a chicken yard before, and yet look at it! Perfect.

They stretched the netting between the gate and other corner, then the netting on the other side. A tidy rectangular chicken yard, three sides of netting and the fourth side the coop itself, now awaited Judith's dream. But wait. Apparently there was more.

They stretched netting out on the ground inside the yard and wired it securely to the sides. Now raccoons and other animals that might dig under the fence could not come up into the pen to steal chickens.

Angela came out and stood beside Judith. “Wow!”

“It sure is wow! The Ritz of chicken coops!”

Finally the men came out of the pen and closed the gate behind them. They both looked mighty happy with themselves.

“That's beautiful! Wonderful! Thank you so much! Is there some way I can pay you or repay you? I would love to.”

Phillip shook his head. “You mentioned yesterday how this is a dream of yours. We're happy to help you realize it. Now you just have to get some chickens.”

Judith pulled that slip of paper out of her pocket. “I have a phone number here that I got at the feedstore. Someone is giving away some Buff Orpingtons.”

Angela had her cell out. “What's the number?”

Judith handed her the slip of paper.

Phillip asked, “You need anything else?”

“As if this isn't enough!” Judith laughed. “No, I don't think so. I'll get some chickens if I can and appropriate feed for them. Thank you again!”

Phillip bobbed his head. “Mom, I'll be going into town. Need anything?”

From behind Judith, Lynn said, “Another twenty-five-pound bag of flour if you're near the supermarket.” So she had come back outside; Judith had not noticed.

“Got it.” Phillip nodded and jotted it down in a notebook.

Angela swiped her cell. “Those Buff Orpingtons are all taken, but the lady says someone named Franklin is moving and might be getting rid of some.”

Phillip frowned. “Franklin. We put a tub and shower in for a Franklin. Hibdon Road?”

“Why, yes. I believe so.”

“Young family, really nice people. Tell them their plumbers said hi.”

Judith giggled. “I shall.”

Lynn sounded sad, resigned. “I know where they live. I'll take you.”

Should she accept the offer? Judith didn't have to think very long.
Yes.
“Thank you, Lynn.”

Why did Lynn offer if she didn't like chickens?

Because Lynn had a big, big heart, bigger than her disappointments. That was obvious. Judith wished so much that she could be as magnanimous as Lynn and so able to bend with the punches.

Lynn had the number in her cell. She probably had every customer's number in her cell. She punched it in, talked a few moments, and closed the phone. “They're moving and have to get rid of their chickens. They'd like us to come over soon.”

“Is right now too soon?” Judith asked.

Angela said, “I'd like to go along, but I agreed to help out at the library from three to eight tonight.”

“We'll be back long before three. Let's go.” Lynn headed for the garage. “No, Homer, you can't go along.”

Judith had not even noticed that the woebegone-looking dog was hovering close, tail wagging.

Lynn drove and Angela sat in back, Judith in front.

Angela was grinning. “I am excited. This is so—so earthy! Real! Oh, I can't explain it.”

Judith nodded in agreement. “I never expected to have it happen so fast.”

They turned into a long driveway and stopped in front of an open garage. A young woman came out of the house with two small children and a baby on her hip. “Thank you for coming; we caught them up last night and penned them. A couple of them are real escape artists. We're moving into town or we would keep them.”

“We promise to give them a good home.” Judith eyed the two boxes with airholes cut in the sides. “What kind are they?”

“Four New Hampshires and two, oh, shoot, they are black, can't remember the breed. We got them down at the feedstore this spring.” She pointed to the feeder and waterer beside the boxes. “Those go, too.”

“Are you sure you don't want some money for all this?” Judith made a sweeping gesture with her arm.

“No, we bought the chicks, but the others were given to us. You enjoy these; we sure did.”

“Don't give our chickens away, Mom, please!” The little girl beside her looked up, tears starting to brim in her blue eyes.

“Maybe we'll get some in our new house. Depends on town ordinances.”

“But they won't be
these
chickens.”

The woman smiled guiltily. “She made pets of a couple of them.”

Judith had no idea what to do, but Angela knelt down in front of the little girl so that they were eye to eye. “We promise to take good care of your friends. Can you tell me which ones are your favorites?”

“The big black one is Fluffy, and the biggest red one is Henny Penny.”

“Oh, good! You know one of my favorite stories? The sky is falling! The sky is falling! Thank you for telling me.”

As they loaded up the boxes in the back of Lynn's SUV and waved good-bye, the little girl buried her face in her mother's skirt.

Angela watched behind them as the farm disappeared beyond the trees. “Fluffy and Henny Penny, eh? I sure hope those aren't the roosters.”

“They're noisy. It's why my father got rid of them.” Judith stared straight ahead. “I loved those chickens. I know exactly how she feels, but I wasn't allowed to cry. They were just chickens. You don't cry over chickens, right?”

When they brought the boxes out of the SUV, Homer was leaping and sniffing and whimpering until Lynn grabbed his collar. “Now down, Homer. Let's get you in the house.” She hauled him up the steps and into the mudroom.

Judith and Angela toted the boxes around to the chicken pen, and Judith opened the new gate, entering her dream for the very first time. “Now what?”

Angela snickered. “You know what a pig in a poke is, right?”

Judith laughed, too. “When you buy a pig that's inside a sack. You don't know if it's fat or skinny or even a pig. Chickens in a poke—but then, I didn't pay for these.”

They set the boxes down in the middle and closed the gate behind them. “Now what?” Angela stared at her box.

“I suppose we open the boxes and let the chickens find their own way out.”

Lynn stepped up to the outside of the pen to silently watch.

Judith unfolded the flaps, opened them wide, and got her first look at what were now her chickens. Four reddish-brown chickens stared up at her. She left that box open and did the same with the other. The larger black one fluffed his feathers, his grand comb proclaiming his roosterhood. All but two of the chickens were nearly grown.

“Look, he's giving me the stink eye.” Judith pointed to the big black fellow in the second box and flashed a grin to Angela. “Think you're pretty hot stuff, don't you, boy? Do you suppose this is Fluffy?”

“If he starts crowing, you have a problem. You'd better name that big black one Fluffy. Just in case the little girl comes out to visit her chickens. But you have to have a rooster if you want eggs, right?”

And another distant memory surfaced. “No,” Judith replied, “the pullets just start laying when they're old enough. But the eggs aren't fertile.”

Angela wrinkled her nose. “Parthenogenesis?”

Judith grinned at the depth of Angela's vocabulary. “Think about it. We women lay an egg every month, and then we get our period.” Judith held the gate for Angela, who was still laughing. “We are going to have to find six names, aren't we?”

They joined Lynn outside the fence, watching the newest residents of this lakeside home.

Angela shrugged. “We have two of them already, thanks to that little girl.”

The chickens peeked over, hopped up, teetered, hopped down. One by one they fluffed their feathers and pecked at the grass, wandering farther with each step.