House of Darkness House of Light (7 page)

“She knows
nothing
yet…that’s why she asked.” Carolyn reassured him.

“
We
don’t know anything either…so what are we going to tell them?”

“The truth…” Roger nodded in agreement. “…we’ll tell them the truth.”

The children had not asked any questions that morning. They were thrilled just to go somewhere,
anywhere
with mommy and daddy. The nature of their excursion prompted suspicion in the eldest as Mr. Kenyon was a stranger to them, not among a group of friends with which she was familiar. Andrea had observed the way he’d spoken with her parents; the way they spoke with one another. Naturally curious, by the end of the trip she was listening for clues, whereas her sisters remained oblivious to the process embarked upon, merely enjoying their day moment-by-moment in that grand and fascinating place, entirely unaware of the significance of their fateful journey into the woods. Resolving to tell all of them the next morning, the couple moved on to other equally relevant issues. This was, after all, a very old house begging for some long overdue attention. To determine the extent of renovations required and at what costs incurred, they revisited their place in the country…in mind.

“The house is dark and dreary and the ugly linoleum has simply got to go!” It had not escaped the woman’s notice…several floors covered up in plastic!

“It has
no
insulation; none. The heating system is antiquated, the electricity is original wiring. It hasn’t been updated since it was installed in the twenties and it needs a paint job. Then there’s the plumbing. That septic system has to be inspected and
ONE
bathroom is totally inadequate for seven people. Did you see the in-house
/
out-house in the woodshed? Can you imagine using
that
for a bathroom, not
if
but
when
your pipes are frozen up?” They were giddy. They were playful. They were already in over their heads.

Roger was doing his best to be sensible and responsibly critical about this property but he’d been bitten and smitten, like a man who had fallen deeply in love at first sight with a mysterious maiden and was then unfairly expected to point out all of her flaws. He didn’t really see them. Love is blind, so they say. In terms of scrutinizing a house with major faults, his heart wasn’t in it; yet his heart was in it, envisioning the beauty of a place he secretly longed to call
home
. The man was already invested, having nothing to do with a check.

“You love it as much as I do!” Carolyn felt compelled to state the obvious.

Flustered by her innate ability to see right through his false bravado, Roger pulled Carolyn over to his chest and began stroking her dark, flowing hair as he scrambled for a response.

“I know you want a place in the country.” He was placating her again.

“No. I want
that
place in the country.” She had pulled away long enough to stare directly into his eyes as she made her request; a veritable demand made of the Universe. There it was: Light. She had seen it down by the river; she’d seen it in their car. Snuggling beside him again, Carolyn paused, awaiting his next argument against the purchase of a farm; but the opposition never came.

“It will be a lot of work.” Roger was all business…even in matters of love. “For both of us.” No time for a congratulatory pat on the back, no money for the finder’s fee, let alone the farm; Roger understood the ramifications of this decision, the nature of the challenge ahead of them. “I don’t know if we can pull it off…but we can certainly try.” Carolyn squeezed her husband’s neck. Those were precisely the words she’d wanted to hear…a lover’s leap of faith.

They talked late into that night; preliminary plans being made as potential resources were being reviewed. Ideas explored. A heady conversation began yielding to exhaustion. It was when Carolyn began to divulge having a rather unusual reaction to their return “home” earlier in the evening.

“When we drove back into Cumberland I had the strangest feelings. It was like coming into a foreign land; unfamiliar territory…and yet I knew my way around…as if going somewhere I’ve never been before but knowing where I was…the
identical
sensation I have at the farm. Diamond Hill Road, Chapel Four Corners, even the Monastery looks…I don’t really know how to explain it…
different
.
It was as if I was having a déjà vu experience. It was surreal.” Her transition had begun: Metamorphosis. Roger listened attentively, without passing judgment, his silence; a tacit approval of her previous observations. He’d grasped what Carolyn meant, though she continued to explain; unaware his experience had been quite similar to her own in many respects.

“When we turned on to Mohawk Street, it was even more bizarre; this road looked so narrow and crowded; these houses seem much smaller to me now.” Frustrated by a perceived inability to articulate the sensation, she pressed on: “You know, that feeling you’d have if you left home as a kid, then went back to revisit a childhood home years later; how small it would appear compared to your memory of it. God! We were away from here for less than five hours!
Everything
feels so different now, as if we don’t even belong here anymore, like we’ve already moved on…out to the farm. Isn’t that weird?”

Thoughtfully considering her comments, Roger admitted to feeling several oddities all his own. Carolyn was relieved, having been initially reluctant to share these perceptions with her husband. It soon became evident: he too had a reaction; closely akin to her own. He found himself plagued by the aromas of the distinctly earthy scent; the cellar of the farmhouse. It was as if it had been trapped, embedded in his sinuses; an unusual scent strangely enticing to him. He divulged having been distracted by visions; recurring images of the farm, especially by the river. He then revealed his deepest and most personal reaction: he’d never felt so attracted or attached to a place before; so anxious to return: like being drawn into a magnetic field of streams and dreams.

A quiet evening spent together renewed something lost between the couple. Though exhausted by the eventful day, they regained enthusiasm squelched over time by the burdens of responsibilities which come with a large family. Ironically, it was a mutual decision to assume more responsibility which had restored energy and vitality to a withering relationship, by necessity; a union replenished by sipping the nectar: a love potion. Once again, a loving couple with a common purpose, it would require every reserve of strength, resilience and fortitude they possessed to complete this transaction. It may require more than mere mortals could muster; perhaps some Divine Intervention would be called for as an act of God: The Holy Spirit. A Guiding Light as a beacon in the night. A clarion call disguised as the wind; all, calling them home…again.

A single conversation solidified an intention; a commitment to one another strengthened their resolve to do whatever was best on behalf of their family. Providing the children with a secure, wholesome environment, one ordained to foster growth and creativity had become a priority for both. While honing his skills in the fine art of personal communication, Roger paused to reflect, seemingly lost in thought. He made an unsolicited, unexpected statement:

“I hear confession is good for the soul.”

“What have
you
done?” Carolyn snapped to attention. “Roger…what.”

Mr. Perron had apparently made his own connections with Mr. Kenyon. He told her about the talk they had just prior to leaving the farm that afternoon. They’d struck an agreement; two men reached an understanding regarding an amount of time necessary to pull all of this together. Essentially, Mr. Kenyon had given Roger some breathing room with his “as long as it takes” attitude, insisting he wanted his home to go to their family. Roger admitted making a conscious decision to pursue this property from the moment he’d pulled into the yard, long before he stepped foot across the threshold of a dream house. He had become captivated by an old man and an older farm, thinking it
was
indeed the perfect place to raise a family. Roger confessed his belief in their destiny being revealed. He, too, envisioned them living there already.

“You let me sweat for nothing.” Her feigned resentment was transparent.

“It’s been a hot day. You’d be sweating anyway.” He winked…a sly one.

“Not so hot down by the river.” Reminding him of the respite they enjoyed, his wife admitted she
knew
it was a done deal the instant he pulled the shoes off his feet and rolled up his trousers.

“The river.” Roger’s eyes sparkled like sunlight dancing on its surface. He was enamored with the place; Carolyn knew her husband would do whatever he could to procure the piece of property. While they frolicked there in mind, absorbing magical imagery, it felt as if they had been transported to another dimension, an alternate reality. Describing the sensation to each other as an odd combination of déjà vu and surrealism, they wondered why they’d been so comfortable there. Why did the farm feel so familiar? It was as if they had both been there before, perhaps in another space and time? (A little spooky.)

“I think we found the Garden of Eden. It even has an apple tree!”

“
We
found it?” Carolyn skeptically cocked an eyebrow in his direction.

“Better be careful about eating the
fruit.” Roger found himself so amusing.

Carolyn settled into total relaxation; a true indulgence for a mother of five. A few more words residing in the recesses of her mind found their way to her lips; private suggestions floating on whispers aimed toward a husband’s ear; some shameless hussy remarks regarding Adam and Eve. Roger, embracing a suggestion, along with his wife, they went off to bed, prepared to share more with each other…undercover…cloaked by the darkness of night.

~ Carolyn gazing into a fountain of youth ~

Children eagerly gathered around the table for breakfast as Carolyn did the honors; filling their bowls with maple oatmeal. Roger passed the toast along.

“Did all of you have a good time at Mr. Kenyon’s farm?” She had to ask.

“Oh mommy, I loved the barn!” Really? Nancy was bound to outburst first. “All it needs is some horses!”

“And cows!” Cindy thought it could really use some cows.

“It’s beautiful.” Andrea developed a keen appreciation of nature at a young age and found her true contentment on a lovely trip to bountiful; the farm: a place where she desperately wanted to live and never wanted to leave again.

Spontaneous chatter erupted in the crowd. Carolyn glanced toward Roger. He promptly stood and began wandering the room, reveling in a
Santa Claus
sensation, like watching over the girls while they opened a big gift intended for all of them. He couldn’t help himself…he simply had to interrupt.

“How would you like to live there?” Suddenly inundated with flailing arms wrapped around his torso, Roger laughed. “Guess I got my answer.” Andrea leaned into her mother; their brief exchange of “I knew it!” and “I know it!” whispered before turning to embrace her father. It was a family reunion, the picture of hope for a brighter future…a place in the country for all to enjoy but not just
any
place in the country. This place was miraculous and they all knew it from the moment their family arrived on the property.

“All right…all right…everybody sit down. We’ll have to talk about this.” Following directions, the girls reclaimed their seats as Roger took his place at the head of the table. “Your mother and I have decided to
try
and buy the farm. But all of you need to understand that it won’t be easy and we might not get it, no matter how hard we try. It’s a lot of money. A lot. We promise to do our best and that’s
all
we can promise. Any questions?”

April raised her hand. “Are we moving in with Mr. Kenyon?” Apparently she’d not yet grasped the notion of relocation. April was just an infant when the family moved to Cumberland. It was the only home she had ever known. Their house on Mohawk Street seemed smaller to them, as well. These ladies were enthralled by the property they’d visited. Her mother responded.

“No, honey. Mr. Kenyon would sell his house
to
us then he would pack up all his things and go to live someplace else.” Carolyn explained an unfamiliar process to the perplexed child as simply as she could.

“But where would he go?” A logical question: as a follow-up from Cindy.

“I don’t know. It would be
his
decision; probably a much smaller house.”

“Can he stay there with us if he doesn’t want to leave, or if he doesn’t have a place to go?” Christine always had a generous spirit…and a keen intuition.

“But he would not be selling the house if he wanted to stay there.” Carolyn inadvertently uttered a false statement. The sweet old man was as attached to the farm as anyone on Earth could be and he had already begun the painful process of mourning the loss of it, long before it went on the market. It had been his home for so long he could not imagine leaving it behind.