Jack (Chapter 10)

We reached the road and walked a little further to a dirt driveway.  I think this was the point where we started running yesterday to get out of the storm.

“This way mister.”  I follow Chaos down another dirt trail.  It takes a few turns and ends up in front of a log cabin.  This is quite an assortment of buildings on this little tract of land.  I prepare myself for whatever may face me behind those wooden doors.  There are chickens everywhere and I can see the edges of some pens in the back where they must keep the pigs. I begin to wonder if these are relatives of my breakfast.  I’ve heard that chickens are stupid creatures and I am getting full experience of that.  I knew within five minutes of being with Chaos that the best place to be was next to and a little behind him.  These chickens have obviously learned nothing because they get right in his path and act surprised when he pushes them out of the way, kicking and swinging a stick.  He doesn’t actually hit any of them, just gets them out of the way.

A voice comes from the house, “Chaos, will you please not scare those chickens?”  I’m sure this question gets asked at least once every day. 

“Mamma, they’re gettin’ in the way and I brought a friend wit’ me.”

“Chaos, who on earth…”  She trails off when she sees me.  Mrs. Perry is a beautiful woman no more than forty-five.  She has bright eyes which I’m sure remain so even through tears.  She is slender but strong.  Her face is smooth and kind.  She could kill one of those chickens with her bare hands but bless it on the way out.  And the chicken would be grateful for such a pleasant death at the hands of such a woman.  She has come out of the house with a basket full of clothes under one arm.  She reaches us and extends her free hand to me.

“Hi my name is Harmony.”  Her voice is definitely a harmony.  Beautiful and soft when void of scolding.  “I apologize for that reception.  You must be one of the visitors from the road.  I look a mess too.  Chaos, you’re five minutes late.”

“What’d I tell you? Always within ten minutes.”  He is proud of his stomach and it’s accuracy for telling time.

“Go get cleaned up; you’re filthy.”  She turns back to me.  “I apologize for him too.  He tends to be overwhelming; he’s really a good kid though.  I’m sorry I haven’t caught your name yet.”

“It’s Jack.”  I’m finally able to grab her hand.  She has a firm shake and I am now confident about the chicken killing thing.  “Chaos is fine.  He showed me my first alligator.”

“He loves those ‘gators, sometimes I’m afraid he gets too close though.  I suppose he is in God’s hands ultimately.  He is a blessed boy.”  I can’t help but smile at this.  “Well, it is dinnertime, I mean lunch.  You must join us.  Although I’m afraid we just have sandwiches.”

“Sandwiches are fine.  I’m told gator jerky sandwiches are the best.”

She smiles knowing full well that I did not come up with that on my own.  “I suppose a guest would be a good reason to pull that out.  But if for whatever reason our gator jerky is unsatisfactory we do have peanut butter and jelly.”  She winks.

I follow her down the remainder of the dirt path to the log cabin.  The chickens scatter as we walk.  The whole house smells of animal with the attempt of flowers to mask some of it.  They don’t succeed very well.  The decorations in the house are minimal but elegant, much like the mistress of the house.  I like it.

Inside, there were two boys older than Chaos setting the table for lunch and a girl younger than Chaos was already sitting at the table.  Their mother introduces them as Noah, John and Charity.  Noah and John are telling their mom how Chaos has broken some little trinket and Charity is singing a little song about the river.  The house is loud and active.  I hope this means I won’t be interrogated too much.  Noah grabs another place setting for me. 

“Momma, dad said that he and Matthew were gonna eat over at Jory and Max’s once they got the van there.”

“That’s fine.  Where is the gator jerky?  I swear I lose everything.”

Charity looks at me and whispers with a grin, “She doesn’t lose it; the boys move stuff around just to make her think she’s goin’ crazy.”  She’s proud of the fact that she knows a secret, especially one entrusted to her by her brothers.  I can tell that she is tough.  She has to be with four older brothers and who knows there could be more.  They seem to keep growing in number. 

Charity is a little fox with big doe eyes.  She is already well aware of her wiles as a girl and as the baby of the family.  She must be six or so.  Her dirty blonde hair is messy and knotted, but not so much in a dirty little girl way but in a Hollywood-I’m-not-trying-too-hard kind of way.  Her fingers and hands resemble her mother’s and she will be just as beautiful if not more so.  She keeps singing soft melodies to herself and I try to listen to the words.  Most of them are unintelligible.  She sings of things that don’t exist and rhymes by making up words.  Chaos is the obvious trouble-maker; Charity is the criminal mastermind.  Her creativity will either make her or destroy her.  I wish I could meet her again in twenty years, just to see how she happens to develop her skills.  I can’t determine, however, whether I’m hoping that they will be for good or evil.  Both would be quite entertaining.  The tragedy would be if she didn’t use them at all.

Chaos storms back into the house, knocking over a chair and bumping a table on the way.  These don’t faze him at all.  He sits next to me and is talking about the pig in the back to no one in particular.  Noah and John finally sit down and they are discussing the chores that they will have to do to finish the day.  Their mother chimes in every so often to remind them of other items they may be forgetting.  Every time she does they roll their eyes as if they have heard these exact same words every day since they were born.  She knows this and chooses to ignore it.

Finally everyone is seated.  I’m between the two youngest and both are quite proud to have me as their new friend.  They say a blessing for the food.  We hold hands and the two little hands I’m holding are very different.  Chaos’ are constantly moving and Charity’s remain calm and strong in my large hands.  She is not scared of me, not even slightly intimidated, and this intimidates me. 

As soon as they are finished Charity begins speaking in what I believe is French. 

“Charity, dear, we don’t have to speak in French today, we do have a guest.  I apologize, Jack, we normally use meal time to practice our languages.”

“Yeah, we have French on Monday, Wednesday and Friday ‘cuz Mamma’s French.  Then on Tuesday and Thursday we practice Russian ‘cuz Pappa used to teach it.  That’s how Mamma and Pappa met.”  Chaos has taken off into a monologue again, but his mother cuts him short.

“Chaos, honey.”

“Sorry, Mamma.”

“Chaos is correct.  Louis was working towards his PhD in Russia, learning Russian.  I was there studying Russian architecture.  We met at one of the museums and spent the rest of our time together instead of studying.  Louis did end up completing his PhD back in the US which is where he is from.  I dropped to marry him and move to the states.  We want our children to be well-educated and informed about the world, so we have language sessions at meal times.  And we have other classes and lessons throughout the day.  Fridays are usually our day off, hence why Chaos was out and about.”  Her speech is apologetic and trying to convince me that they are not some sort of weird homeschooled family.  I wonder what would make two well-educated people retire here so early.  Harmony gives me a knowing look but she will not tell me while her children are around.  The whole family appears content to remain here.  Things get quiet for a half a second and I’m uncomfortable with it because there has not been a silent moment since I arrived, so I speak.

“You mentioned Matthew earlier, is he one of your brothers?”

Noah, the oldest at this table, replies with a nod of permission by his mother, “Matthew is the oldest boy.  He’s sixteen.  We have two older sisters as well.  And that’s all of us.”  Noah is stern and serious.  He speaks well and with purpose.  He is tall and thin, just hitting manhood in his body but already achieved in his head and attitude. 

The mother takes over again, “Max is our oldest daughter.  She lives across the road with her husband.  Carolyn left here about three years ago.”  She stops with a tear in her eye.  Carolyn must have been of the rebellious nature and I imagine that she was very much like Charity.  I wonder what the circumstances are which made her leave, but I’m tactful enough not to ask.  So there are seven children total.  Wow.  I can’t imagine what that would be like and I hope I don’t have to.  At least these boys have brothers.  I wasn’t even given that in my large family.

Charity’s eyes sparkle as she looks at me, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Yes, I have five sisters and no brothers.”

“That’s sad.  I like having brothers.”

“Charity, dear, we shouldn’t ask too many questions and let him eat.”

I look at the dried meat laying on homemade bread.  From looking at everyone else I notice that Chaos and Charity put ketchup on their sandwiches.  Harmony and John use barbecue sauce.  Noah uses honey.  I like the honey idea so I try that.  The sandwich is actually very good.  A little tough but delicious. 

“This honey is delicious.  I have never had honey like this.”

“John is our bee keeper.”

John gives a slight nod but no smile.  He is not as serious as Noah but he is still somber.  He is the most like me in that he doesn’t care to have much said to him or about him.  He likes to be still and speak as little as possible.  In spite of the fact that he is like me, I will have a hard time talking to him and figuring him out.  He watches me with suspicion, giving the same look which I am certain I have given most of the population in this countryside. 

It’s amazing how the family quieted and found manners with the saying of a prayer right before the meal.  We continue in polite conversation, nothing profound or telling.  I ask as many questions as are asked of me and there are none that I feel the need to sidestep.  I’m amazed by how comfortable they are.  Their politeness does not feel forced or fake, simply hospitable.