A Most Unusual Passage
Copyright© 2026 by J&J
Chapter 35
Surprisingly, it was cool as I walked to my car. It must have been in the low 80’s. Usually, by this time of the afternoon, it was up there in the mid 90’s.
“Don’t complain,” I said to myself, thinking all the while just how hot it could get.
The old car started right up for the familiar trip home. As I drove, I thought about my day. I’d finally put the summer closing plan to bed this afternoon, so everything was taken care of. The next two days of school wouldn’t require much, other than the graduation ceremony on Friday. Unlike a lot of school systems, our senior class has to wait until the bitter end. Graduation is held on the last day of school. I’d have to emcee the exercise, but I’d done it so many times it was second nature. Being a small school out in the middle of nowhere, we didn’t have any guest speakers. Besides, I doubt that many of the attendees would have been impressed if we did.
I took my time driving home, and as usual, I stopped on the hill overlooking the farm. I’d stopped here so many times over the years there was a bare spot on the shoulder of the road. This spot was the perfect lookout, about two-hundred feet above the farm and just over the apex of the sand hill.
I shut the engine down and just sat there, looking over the prairie. To me, it was a beautiful sight. It was close enough to spring, so that the grass was still green, and the light emerald hue of the afternoon sun’s glare pulled me into memories of long ago.
I remembered years gone by, both the good and the bad. As I was prone to do, I soaked in the beauty before me, remembering times, people and events from my past, all passing through my mind in a kaleidoscope of thoughts.
I lost track of time, and when I looked toward the house, I could see Martha in the yard looking at me. I gave her a wave out the window and started the engine. She waved back and walked into the house.
“Afternoon there, Beautiful Lady,” I announced, as I hung my hat on the wall peg.
Martha was at the stove and turned toward me with a smile on her face. “Marcus, you’re going to go to hell for telling such lies.”
I laughed, “I doubt it. Besides, like they say, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. To me, you’ll always be my beautiful lady.”
Martha wiped her hands across the apron around her waist and then walked over and kissed me on the cheek. With a small tear peaking out of the corner of her eye, she gave me a smile and then another peck on the cheek. “It will be a while before dinner.”
I nodded my head, and then walked over to my easy chair. I sat down for a few minutes but couldn’t get comfortable. I’d been restless most of the afternoon, and I really didn’t know why. I finally decided to get up and take a walk outside. Maybe that would help clear my mind.
I walked out to the mud room, grabbed my hat off the peg and said to Martha, “I’m going outside for while. Give me a shout when dinner is ready.”
Martha had her back to me, working at the stove, but I did see her nod her head.
I walked out to the barn and looked over the two horses. Both were standing in the far corner of the corral. The colt came over, probably looking for a little attention. I scratched the colt’s ears for a few minutes and then made my way out behind the barn and found a seat on the old bench next to the rear wall.
My knees complained as I lowered myself to sit on the bench. The bench sat pretty low to the ground, and I wasn’t used to flexing my knees to the extent needed to sit this low. Finally I got myself somewhat comfortable and gazed to the west across the open prairie.
The sun was still high in the western sky; it would be several hours before it found its way over the far horizon. I could hear the prairie dogs bark over by the old milk shed. I smiled as I remembered what my dad would have thought about them being there. To him, they were a real nuisance. Rightly so, from his perspective; they tended to eat up a lot of valuable land that could otherwise be used for crops. Since I didn’t raise any, it wasn’t a concern of mine. Besides, they provided a food source for the few swift foxes that somehow managed to survive here.
I could also hear a prairie chicken drumming, trying to attract a mate. I smiled inwardly at the sounds of the springtime.
Since Dad died, I hadn’t farmed any, and the fields had long since returned to native prairie grass. This had been a real boon for the wildlife. It was not unusual for antelope to be grazing on the far hill, or see sharp tailed grouse feeding on the open grassland.
A lot had changed, since I’d gone off to college in Greeley, so many years ago. “What was it? 1940, I guess, when I left for college,” I thought to myself.
For some reason, my mind wanted to wander, and I let it. I remembered trying to enlist in the army, after the attack on Pearl Harbor, and the embarrassment of being rejected because of my bad knees. Even then, they had given me trouble. At the time, I was severely disappointed. I somehow returned to Greeley and managed to finish my degree.
My first teaching position in the old schoolhouse north of town popped into my mind. I chuckled, thinking back on how excited I was to be teaching. The fact that there were only two teachers and a total enrollment of eight kids didn’t make a difference to me.
I often used to sit here on this very same bench with my father. It was here he would impart his version of wisdom to his only son. As I grew older, I also realized that my father lived in a very narrow world. Although he could read and write, his education didn’t extend much further. We had many a long discussion sitting on this same bench. Some things got solved, and occasionally, an argument ensued, but to me, it was neutral ground, and my father seemed to think so as well.
Over time, this bench became a place to collect my thoughts, as well as the privacy to contemplate life and all the many decisions affecting who I was and what I had become. I had faced many problems and reached many decisions, just sitting here. Today was no different. I was at a turning point in my life, I realized. For over fifty years, I’d had the school in my life. In a few more days, that would be gone, and I didn’t have any idea what I’d do. For some reason, this bothered me a great deal. I wasn’t one to sit around watching soap operas, and I couldn’t fathom a life without something meaningful to do.
The clang of the old dinner bell woke me from my reverie, followed by Martha’s shout, “Marcus, dinner’s ready!”
The pain in my knees made the effort to get up noticeably difficult, as I stood and made my way to the house. “This keeps up,” I thought to myself, “you’ll need to get yourself a cane, old man.”
Martha had made beef and homemade egg noodles for dinner, and the aroma as I entered the house made me aware of just how hungry I was.
“Sit down; dinner’s ready,” Martha called over her shoulder, as I walked into the kitchen.
I sat down at my place at the table, and Martha followed, carrying dishes of noodles and beef. She returned to the kitchen and brought out some green beans, set them down and then took her seat.
As was our custom when it was just the two of us, we didn’t say much as we ate. After dinner, Martha cleared the table and brought us both fresh cups of coffee. She sat next to me, and as I took a sip, she asked, “What’s bothering you so much today?”
“What makes you think anything is bothering me?”
“How long have I been married to you?” she asked.
I chuckled, “Seems like forever!”
“Me too, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Now, how about you letting me know what’s on your mind?”
I took another sip from the cup, sat back in my chair and tried to figure out how to explain what I couldn’t entirely explain to myself.
I started, “I guess I’m just wondering what I’m going to do with all the free time that’s ahead of me.”
“And that has you worried?”
“No,” I answered. “Not that in itself. It’s just that I can’t see myself sitting around with nothing to do.”
Martha gave me a long look; then said, “Marcus, give it some time. I’m sure you’ll figure out something. Right now, you still have a school to close. What happens after that? Well, that will take care of itself.”
I nodded, but couldn’t help thinking, “I sure hope she’s right, because right now, I don’t have a clue.”
I ushered Jennifer into the living room and went off to the kitchen, where I made a grand production out of making tea, to buy time to get my thoughts together. My feelings were very mixed up indeed, as though my past had broken down the door, just when I was trying to come to grips with the future.
I couldn’t remember a time when Jennifer wasn’t part of my life. Her parents owned the house next to ours, and we were digging sand castles together when we just wore diapers as a monokini. One difference was her house was her family’s beach house; our house was home. Their “real” home was a very elegant mansion in the snobbiest part of the historic district known as SOB, South of Broad”.
Our social circles would probably have never overlapped, except we were joined at the hip before we knew we weren’t supposed to be friends. It wasn’t always easy; we didn’t always look at things the same way. Still I would have trusted her with my life. That’s why I still could not get past the vision of walking into my bedroom and finding her there with my fiancée. Not about Ted; hell, I was ready to dump him anyway. But when I couldn’t trust the one friend I giggled under the covers and told all my secrets to, my whole concept of trust and friendship collapsed.
I preferred leaving Charleston to facing the constant efforts of Ted and Jennifer and well intentioned friends to FIX things. To me, disloyalty can’t be fixed. A person is either loyal or not, just like they can be tall or not; it’s a state of being, not a cold you can get over. In fact I was so anxious to go I snapped up the first promising principal’s position, without even bothering to find out that Otis was not the alpine paradise of my imagination.
And now, right smack in the middle of trying to deal with the realities of life in Otis, she has to drag in the shit I was trying to get away from. Now, having decided that yes, I was still furious, I returned to the living room with the tea.
“You’re still awfully pissed, aren’t you?” Jennifer said almost timidly, before I said a word.
“What, but...” I said puzzled.
“The longer you were in the kitchen, which was a lot longer than it takes to make tea, the louder you banged the pots and cups around, until it sounded like the anvil chorus.”
I blushed at being so obvious. “Look, Jennifer, you’re right. I still am mad, really, really mad. I don’t see us getting past this. Maybe we shouldn’t even try. We still have a great childhood together, tons of memories. We can just keep it that way and not drag this whole thing up.”
“I just want you to hear my side, one time, before you judge me.”
“Jesus Jennifer, I don’t think those guys on L.A. Law could help you. You and my fiancé, buck naked in MY bed. How many ways can that be interpreted?
“Elizabeth, please,” she begged. “I’m not saying what I did wasn’t wrong; it was. It was also insensitive, tacky and selfish, but it’s not the betrayal you think. I can explain.”
I think it was actually curiosity that finally got me to listen. “Please do; you have my undivided attention.” I said.
“Did you know that I have had a thing for Ted since college?” she asked.
“Suspected,” I replied. “In fact I was always a little surprised that you two didn’t hook up; you probably have more in common. But I’m not sure this is helping your case.”
“Give me credit. I never showed or acted on my feelings; I never flirted with Ted. Not even when I knew you were trying to break the engagement and dump him.”
“I never told you I was trying to dump Ted; I never told anyone.”