A Home in Which To Die © 1999 by Robert Clark Nielsen

Clearing Skies Over Mesa Verde

The Closest of Friends

November 21,1896

The Carltons stopped by a little more than a month later.

Mr. Carlton had done very well with his fruit crop and offered Joan some financial assistance.

While Rob and Joan worked out the details at the kitchen table, Hanna went in to see the baby and found that she needed changing. To Joan's utter delight, she took Jenny into the kitchen, cleaned her up and began to bathe the child in the kitchen sink.

Gemma took Hanna's little girl over to her bed and read to her from Grimm's Fairy tales while the Carlton boys had a snowball fight with Jimmy, out behind the cabin.

After Hanna had given Jenny a bath, she and Joan went into the bedroom to dress the baby. Robert went out and had his two sons shovel snow from the front of the cabin and around the work shop to clear a path between it and the back of the cabin.

The Carltons busied themselves taking care of every little chore and detail that Ben would have attended, had he survived. Joan pitched in and did her best to put her grief aside to help them to manage all the loose ends that been neglected while the family had bereaved Ben's passing.

Truly, the Carltons were good neighbors.

Robert and Hanna had been devastated by the news of the tragedy which had taken pace in their absence. The minute they stepped off the train, the baggage handler who knew they had been out of town asked if they'd heard about the fatality and summarily filled them in.

Robert even hired another wagon to help them hurry and carry their luggage and packages home, so that they could come out and offer their help, that day.

After pretty much hemming up all of the frayed ends, the Carltons were exhausted and offered to return the next day. But, Joan wouldn't hear of it. "You lot, have had quite an ordeal,

yourselves. Now, you just go on home and have a good rest. We Evans' definitely have appreciated all this help that you have given to us, but these are all things which we must learn to do for ourselves, by and by. We will do alright, if we just keep at it. And, now that our very best friends are home, you just across the way, we shall try to make more of an effort, won't we Gemma and Jimmy."

Her two children nodded in the affirmative and Gemma went over to Hanna, gave her a big hug, and said, "We shall make a better attempt to keep things more presentable, in future, for good friends to feel more comfortable when they come to call. I very much enjoyed reading to your daughter, Hanna. Thank you for all of your help".

Rick acted offended at Jimmy's insinuation. "You won us fair and square, I'll have you know. Didn't he, Danny?

Danny shook his head, 'yes', and turned to his father shaking it agian, from side to side.

Rob smiled at his sons attempts to please the little boy and said, "How about it, Hanna. Think we'd better get home and start a fire?"

Again the Carltons offered their help. And, again the Evans' thanked them and discouraged them from putting themselves out. All, but Jimmy, who tried to talk Rick into coming over to help him chop kindling wood as had been appointed him, by his mother.

Fond farewells took place outside and the Carltons stepped up into their coach wagon to ride for home.

The Evans' stepped inside and Joan asked Gemma which was the Grimm's fairy tale that she had read to Janna, to which Gemma said, "I really don't remember, now. You'll have to ask her, next time she comes by".

The children soon retired and Joan went about the cabin making inventory as to what was needed to be done for the rest of the week and making plans for the coming day. Finally, she went to bed and lay thinking of what it was that she could do for their kind neighbors, which would be sufficient to reciprocate.

It only took five minutes from the time that she crawled into bed before Joan was soundly asleep, exhausted from the ordeal of the events that had taken place that day. She had not yet begun to worry about money.

The wind blew all that night. From the west it blew, hard, and cold. And then, about a half an hour before dawn, the wind slowly changed course and began to blow in from a more southerly direction.

It felt a rather strong breeze until it changed again, simmering carefully from the south by southwest and strongly gusted from the south with a soft warm burst that would gently bump on the back door.

Je, Seul Moi (Only Me)

Tuesday, October 23, 1896

The next day, Gemma woke to find that a fire had been burning for what appeared to be the entire night.

She reached toward the post at the head of the bed for her robe, only to find that it wasn't there.

Sitting up to look about, she could see that the kitchen floor was flooded and there were all sorts of towels, rags, and old clothes piled up in front of the back door. She could feel a strange movement of air coming from that side of the cabin. And, what was even more strange was that it wasn't very cold.

She sat on the edge of the bed and managed to find her slippers.

There was water clear into the front room and her feet squished as she stepped across the rugs to the entry of the kitchen. Carefully, she held the hem of her nightgown up off the floor as she walked over to the sink.

Gemma looked out of the window in the kitchen and was astounded to see the earth in some places. There was dirt, needle fall, sticks, and brush exposed to the air and view.

Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened, momentarily, until she realized how she must have looked.

Suddenly, she became aware of the fact that she was alone, observing this bright and eerie scene. With no one to whom she might exclaim or comment she felt that she could scream and no one would hear, or take any notice.

The sun was quite high up in the sky. 'It could be noon, or even one o'clock', Gemma thought, as she hurried into the front room and sat on her bed.

Her mother would not normally have left her sleeping, as obviously she had.

A feeling of loneliness and grief slowly began to take shape in her countenance for which she soon felt an enormous disdain.

Gemma very much objected to her own self-pity, under any circumstances, regardless of the situation; although, her father's demise had been quite devastating, nevertheless, Gemma had decided that she would not allow herself to be another casualty. Besides, her mother needed her to help keep their family together. And Gemma was determined to see that her brother and little sister have as good a life as she had had, somehow.

She pensively took her chin in hand and headed to the front of the cabin.

There it was, her robe, stuffed down in the crack at the bottom of the front door. She tried to pull it out but it had been shut under the door. By this time Gemma was really feeling quite alone.

She kneeled up onto her bed, looked out of the window to the east, out of the front window to the north and could see no one, only a frightfully muddy road off in the distance.

Well, she certainly wasn't going to make the long walk into town, just to find her mother.

"I could take this time to read a book.", she said to herself as she walked over to the bookshelf to find a good novel. "Hmm. Hard Times... Dreadfully boring... Poor Sissy.", she said to herself as she looked through the other books. Gemma had read that book last summer, to herself, no less. "Any more Dickens?"

She knew there was and avoided Oliver Twist. A book that her father had read to Jimmy and her as the snow had begun to fall, earlier that autumn.

"Ah, Pip." She would sometimes relate to books of fiction by their lead characters and Great expectations was one of Ben's all time favorites. A favorite of such long standing that she felt that she couldn't possibly become emotional by reading it.

So, she took it down, sat in the large, over-sized chair but, before she could finish the title page, tears had begun to roll down her cheeks. "Oh, daddy.", she cried.

Soon, she heard a rattling outside and quickly wiped away her tears.

Quickly, she put the book up onto the shelf, went over to the door, and waited, with her hand on the handle, while she gained her composure.

"Gemma, are you awake?", her mother called out from the wagon, as it came to a stop.

Only then did she realize that she was still in her night gown.

As quickly as she could, she flung it off and got herself dressed.

After struggling with her shoes, she jumped up to try to reach the door before her mother got onto the porch. But, Jimmy must have jumped off of the wagon before it had stopped and went for the door at a dead run. Luckily, Gemma stopped before reaching the door.

She heard a CLOMP, CLOMP, CLOMP, WHAM! The door flew open and Jimmy went sliding in on the wet rug. His feet came out from under him and he fell flat on his back.

"Hello there, James.", Gemma said, trying not to laugh as she looked down at her younger brother.

He looked quite a sight. He had fallen on the mud which had come off from his shoes, picked himself up, and quietly asked for a towel.

"I'm afraid there are none, Jimmy. They are all in the kitchen, on the floor." She couldn't help but laugh, just a little.

"I don't care if you do laugh at me," he pouted, "just don't call me James."

"I am sorry, Jimmy. It's just that our daddy used to call us by our full names if we got into a problem like this." she said apologetically. "I can hear him say it to me. 'Gemma Lynn Evans. You are such a silly girl, you are.'"

Jimmy sarcastically retorted, "Oh, roight, Gemmahr. Oi do know." as if to ridicule her blatant imitation of their father's jovial use of playful accent.

Gemma was shocked and so was their mother, who was standing in the doorway and turned it into a joke with an astute Scottish trollop's rejoinder, "Here-r-r-r we have the gist of i', James, laddie. A r-r-row will set yer-r seat aflame. Aye. And won't i', Gemma, lass?"

If there hadn't been such a bright flicker in her mother's eyes, Gemma might have burst into tears, on the spot. Instead, she responded in a rather sloppy Irish brogue, "Sure, but he would simply go an' sit on the floor in the kitchen to douse son flamboyant derriere, non?"

Gemma's having stumbled into an almost passable french growl made Joan snort into a controlled chuckle.

Jimmy lost his place altogether, ignored them, and rung the water out of the tails of his cotton shirt. "Am I going to get a beating?" He looked even more perplexed as Gemma and their mother bent over, laughing together, then, uncontrollably.

Suddenly, Joan remembered the baby bundled up in blankets out in the wagon.

Still chuckling to herself, she walked quietly out to the wagon, carefully picked up the baby, and walked back into the cabin.

Joan moved gracefully into the bedroom and softly pulled off the outer layers of blankets. She gently set Jenny down into her crib.

The child was still sleeping and Joan smiled as she gazed down onto the sleeping cherub. "I've got two beautiful little girls, now. Don't I Jenny?", she quietly said as she looked at her youngest.

Dire Straits

Joan took a deep breath, sighed, walked into the front room, and tried to look at her former youngest without grinning into a giggle. For all intents and purposes, it worked well enough. She sighed, again, and pursed her lips this time.

She stepped over to Jimmy, crouched down a little more to his level, and put her arm over his shoulders. Gemma sensed the tone and joined her in front of the fire. Joan spoke slowly and cautiously about the coming holiday celebrations.

"Thanksgiving's the day after tomorrow and..", she hesitated,

"Well, we do not have a turkey. Really, we don't need one. That is why I got the ham, Jimmy."

"But we don't eat ham." Jimmy interrupted, protestingly.

The rich foods that Ben had had to endure as a boy, and as a young adult, had made him subject to painful gout which had set the criteria for his family's diet as long as Jimmy could remember. He felt rather compelled to remind her of the fact.

"Daddy won't be bothered by the gout anymore, Jimmy.", Gemma said as patiently as she could. "Please. Let mommy tell us what she has to say."

Jimmy simply lowered his eyes. And, Joan began again to convey her point. "But, I'm afraid the really sad news is that there will not be much of a Christmas for us this year."

Jimmy was absolutely aghast. "Doesn't Father Christmas know that we need his help?"

The fact that he was aware that they were in some sort of straits was a bit of a consolation to Joan, but she wasn't quite sure how she would be able to explain to her four year old how Santa Claus could possibly be so unfeeling, not when they needed it most. Joan really was shaken by the enormity of how a boy of Jimmy's age would be affected by the seeming contradiction.

Gemma somehow understood that there was an awful lot more to this little 'chat' than was on the surface and she had to be able to draw his attention to something more immediate. "Have we had any breakfast, Jimmy? Let's go into the kitchen and have some bread and jam. Would you like a glass of milk? I know that I would." All the while she took her little brother by the hand, leading him into the kitchen, allowing him to snoop about for something in the pantry, and telling him, "Now, you find the jam and I'll cut us a couple of nice thick slices of this wonderful bread the Johnsons gave to us, yesterday. Does that sound good to you?"

Her mother took a deep breath, gained her composure, and soon added, "There are a couple of pieces of blueberry pie, that you two may have, if you'll seat yourselves at the table. Gemma, try to keep clean, now." Which was to say, ' I have some things to do', and that she was leaving Gemma in charge.

Gemma could tell that her mother had found some relief. It felt good to be of help and she began to relax her diction a bit. "Uh, where's the pie, then, mum?"

"Oh. It's here in the bedroom. I'll get it for you, dear.", Joan said. She had put it up on top of the wardrobe, the night before, and had almost forgotten that it was there. 'Good idea, coming in here.' she thought to herself. She planned to go out to the work shed to appraise the tools and materials there and what she would need to start making a living for the family, as it was all up to her, now.

It didn't seem to frighten her as much as she thought that it would, but it was much harder than she'd realized to come up with a viable plan. Presently, she became aware that she had put on her own cold weather boots and that she would have to use Ben's mud boots since she didn't have any of her own. 'No need for them, until now', she thought.

Joan had planned to let the children in on the difficulties her family was approaching in the coming year; yet, after seeing Jimmy's submissive, innocent candor toward his minor touch of hunger, a realization had come slowly come over her that she would only be able to share a limited amount of her dilemma with her eldest, who had performed admirably, taking charge as she had.

With a smile and a bright wink, Joan handed Gemma the pie, and asked Jimmy, "Didn't we share that delicious stuffed bread as I drove us into town? It couldn't have been two hours, since you've eaten that. Eh, Jimmy?"

"Well, I'm growin' boy. Ain't I?", James quipped.

Gemma grinned as her mother nudged her shoulder and quietly said "Hardly left me three bites and asked for more, when he had finished."

"It were so good. She's saved some for you, too, Gemma.", He mumbled, and smacked his lips as he took another bite of the pie that he held in his hand.

Gemma wryfully looked down her nose at Jimmy and slowly said, "Well, I won't say anything about the word ain't or your misuse of the past tense of the infinitive verb 'to be', if you'll pick up that fork and use it to eat the pie. How about it?"

He scowled and said, "Didn't even use the word 'to be'". He set the pie on his plate and took another bite, this time with a fork.

"Sounds like it's done and dusted, then, Gemma.", Joan said as she tied up the boots as tight as she could. "Would you please get some wood for..."

Joan was silenced, and listened carefully to a sound on the front porch.

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