A Most Unusual Passage
Copyright© 2026 by J&J
Chapter 34
I wasn’t all that surprised to see Elizabeth’s SUV parked in the farmyard when I topped the hill. I half expected she would high-tail it over to the farm. I’m sure she was on pins and needles, wanting to know the outcome of my meeting with Seth Chambers.
Evidently, no one heard me pull into the yard. When I entered the house, Elizabeth was saying, “I only hope Marcus can fix this. I’m really worried about what might happen to that girl if her father gets angry.”
I walked into the kitchen and saw Martha and Elizabeth, sitting at the dining room table.
“If I were you, I’d worry more about what Edith might be doing to Seth, than what he’d do to Sylvia.”
Elizabeth spun around in her chair, “Marcus, what happened?”
I chuckled, “Well, the kids in school have a saying that I think covers it quite nicely. To put in their terms, Edith went postal!”
Both women sat there for a moment, probably trying to figure out just what I’d said. Martha was the first to grasp the meaning.
“You don’t mean to tell me that timid Edith got angry and jumped all over Seth, do you? I mean, that woman has to be one of the meekest and most mild -mannered people I’ve ever met.”
“You got it on the first try. She was all over him like a cheap suit.”
Elizabeth then broke in, “Well, tell us what happened!”
I put my hat on the countertop, and then walked over and sat next to Martha.
“Well,” I started. “It was not going all that well with Seth. He can be one obstinate man, when he puts his mind to it. I have to say, by that time, I was getting a bit riled up as well. I’d shown Seth Sylvia’s poem book, and he didn’t get much out of it. Then while Seth and I were talking, Edith grabbed the book off the table.
Seth and I were busy arguing with one another, neither of us paying much attention to Edith, when all of a sudden she exploded. I don’t want to get into the particulars; that’s their business, but she lit into Seth like a mama lion.”
“So where does that leave Sylvia now?” Elizabeth asked.
“Oh, I think things are going to work out fine for her. Matter of fact, I kind of offered your services in helping to get her into college. Just think of it as your penance for going out there in the first place.”
The relief Elizabeth felt was clearly visible on her face. She slouched down in the chair and gave out a deep sigh. “Marcus, that’s one punishment I’ll gladly suffer.”
We sat around the table for a while, discussing what had been said, but I could tell Martha really wanted to know the particulars of what Edith had said to get Seth’s attention. I love my wife dearly, but I sure as hell wasn’t about to tell her the extent of Edith’s remarks. There’s no reason to contribute to the gossip circulating among the girls’ network.
By the time Marcus had finished relating his experiences at the Chambers farm, it was almost dinner time, so Martha invited me to join them. Not feeling particularly sociable, I tried to beg off to go home and lick my wounds. But Martha was having no part of it.
“You just want to go home and sulk and feel sorry for yourself, and I’m not going to let you.” Her flat-footed stance and balled fists at her waist made her determination slightly humorous, but no less real. “I’m the closest thing to a mother, big sister, and best friend you have in these parts, so what I say goes.”
I gave her a hug, because the truth was, I didn’t really want to be alone; just left alone with my thoughts for a while. She sensed this and went off to busy herself in the kitchen and steered Marcus to his favorite chair. I went out by the rose garden but soon wandered further off down by the barn, where there was a better view of the plains. As I passed my car, I grabbed one of the blankets I had bought at the Co-Op and took it with me.
I spread the blanket on a small grassy knoll and lay down to contemplate this strange, alien place that, so far, had eluded my efforts to understand or feel connected. Compared to the endless tumult of the ocean and the scampering, squawking web of life on the beach in my Low Country, this place seemed lifeless and sterile, devoid of any possible attraction for the human spirit.
What drew them here and held them? It was nothing my eyes could see or my soul could feel. I was beginning to doubt that I ever would be able to call this place home. After my complete failure with Mr. Chambers, calling these people “my people” was a hard thing to imagine. I felt hot tears well up at my total failure to adapt.
Suddenly I was beating my fists into the ground yelling “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you...” until I just collapsed on my arms for a good cry.
I was just getting myself back together, when I was suddenly aware of the presence of someone else on the blanket. I rolled my head to the side and found myself staring into an unmistakable pair of eyes the color of lapis lazuli. I hid my face again.
“Oh my God, Roger, how long have you been here?”
“Long enough to watch you beat up the high plains with your fists.”
“Oh God,” I groaned. “I just want to find a rock to crawl under; I’m so embarrassed.”
Roger gently pulled me up and put his arm around me. It felt nice, but I didn’t want to face him. He put his hand under my chin and pulled me around.
“Elizabeth, it’s okay, Elizabeth. Trust me. Everyone here has more than once cursed, spat on, kicked, pissed on, yelled at or in some other way expressed our frustration with this land. And I promise you this won’t be your last time either.”
I leaned against his shoulder. “Thank you, Roger. How do you happen to be here, anyway?”
“The truth?”
“Yes, please, always the truth,” I said.
“Martha called and told me you might need a friend.”
“But Martha is my friend, my best friend here.”
“Exactly what I said to her when she called,” Roger said laughing.
“And she said?”
“That I should just shut up and trust her judgment.” Roger laughed that wonderful baritone laugh of his. “I don’t actually recall winning that many arguments with Martha.”
Leaning against him, with my head on his shoulder, felt very nice and comfortable somehow, as though I belonged there. I breathed in his fresh masculine scent, soap, leather, and just enough recent perspiration to spike the mix with a shot of pheromones.
“Whatever the reason, I’m glad you are here except ... I’d give anything for you not to have seen that spectacle.”
“I saw nothing except a person frustrated from being a stranger in an alien land, feeling rootless and alone, far from anyplace you could call home. You find yourself in a place so barren and so unlovable that you actually find it hostile and threatening.”
Startled, I looked up into his eyes. “Hey, Cowboy, for someone not known for talking, you suddenly sound like a philosopher. And yes, that was a damn good description of what I’m feeling. I’ve tried to fit in here, but it’s like I’m on the moon. I just don’t belong here.”
“Did you really expect to feel at home here in a few weeks? The high prairie demands a far longer courtship than that. Winter is the time when you find out if you love this land.”
“But isn’t winter harsh and miserable, the least desirable time to be on the high plains?”
“Exactly!”
“OK, maybe this is when I should go talk to Azalea.”
Roger laughed that warm full laugh I liked so much; it wasn’t particularly loud, but it came from deep inside.
“No, Elizabeth, not yet. What I mean is, it’s the testing time. Mom always said that you didn’t really know if you loved your baby, lying there like a little angel making happy burbling noises. Hell, Hannibal Lecter would love a baby then. When you’re rushing off to a party in a brand new dress, and the baby barfs on it ... and you don’t mind, then you love your baby.”
I laughed, in spite of myself, and it felt good. “So, Roger, is the prairie going to barf on me?”
“Well, maybe not, but I can tell you about a place where the land farted at me,” Roger said.
“Are we having any pretense at a serious conversation here, or are you just indulging in the well-known male predilection for fart jokes. You actually claim to know a place where the land itself plays pull my finger?”
“Yes ma’am.” Roger replied
“OK, I’ll bite. Pray tell, what beastly, foreign, God-forsaken land can possibly produce such foul flatulent discharges?”
Roger pounced triumphantly. “Not so foreign, and certainly not God-forsaken. It was at an Audubon conservation workshop in the Ace Basin, about an hour’s drive south of Charleston, but the land in question was a plain old pluff mud salt water marsh. I believe Sullivan’s Island is backed up with the same. It had the consistency of axle grease and the appearance of a very ugly shade of gray paint. Any clothes it touched were ruined. Every step caused the unmistakable flatulent sound of a very wet intestinal eruption; the kind that makes you hope you brought a change of undies. And accompanied by the same foul sulfurous odor that used to get Uncle Ned ejected from the parlor. Is this not a fair and accurate description?”
Through my laughter, I threw up my hands in surrender. “Touché; it is a very accurate description indeed. We actually have a Pluff Mud Song
I sucks off yo topsiders Cuts off yo toes Why you still loves me Nobody knows
I gets in the cuts on yo feets an’ yo hands An’ gives you vibrio vulnificans
I raise half the fush and the swimps in the sea That’s why you can’t get along without me
Pluuuuuf Muddddd!”
I finally stopped laughing long enough to see that Roger wasn’t laughing. He was patiently waiting for me to see the point to something. I stopped and looked into those patient eyes.
“I’m missing something here, aren’t I?” I asked.
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