It was a beautiful fall day when I decided to play hooky and go for a drive. I headed out to the back roads that wend through the country near my home. The leaves were brilliant in the warm autumn light; golden yellow, fiery orange and deep red.
I followed familiar roads for awhile before deciding to take an unfamiliar turn. The road told me it led to Denmark, which tickled me. It turned out to be a good decision. The road followed the side of a hill which afforded breathtaking views of the valley below.
I was so preoccupied with the vista that I almost missed him. He sat atop a stone wall at the side of the road lazily sticking his thumb out for a ride. His hair was shaggy and his beard was a bit wild. He wore a flannel shirt and suspenders. I was in love immediately.
I’ve got this thing for old men. I love white hair, crusty attitudes and being called “young lady”. I love colorful language and inventive metaphors. But what I really love is the storytelling. The depth of experience. The history lived.
The gentleman took his time rising from the wall and walking to the passenger side door. He opened the door and leaned in. His bright blue eyes sparkled impishly. “It is very unwise for a pretty young thing such as yourself to offer rides to strange men.”
I smiled and replied, “I can take care of myself. Besides you don’t seem that strange.”
“Only because you don’t know me. Now if I were any sort of gentleman I would refuse your offer of transportation and insist that you refrain from such foolish behaviors in the future. However,” he sat heavily on the seat, “I am old and tired and I am certainly no gentleman.” With that he winked and closed the door.
“Where to?” I asked.
“Well not too far. Where might you be going?”
I shrugged. “Just driving.”
“Ah, an aimless wanderer. We’ll get along fine. I’m heading to my friend’s farm just up the road a way.”
He introduced himself as Nick. As we drove Nick pointed out houses and shared the story of the people living there. “That white house there is the Jones’ place. Of course it been near a decade since a Jones has lived there, but it’s the Jones’ place just the same.” or “That’s where Tom Brown’s widow lives now. She’s a fine lookin’ woman that one.”
I listened to his ramblings as we rolled over the country road. Eventually we came up on a good sized farm he identified as his destination. “You should stay for lunch. It’s the least I can do for giving me a lift.”
I raised one eyebrow and chuckled. “You wouldn’t be doing anything since your friends would be feeding me.”
“This is what makes the whole thing work so well. Trust me; Martha’s much happier with folks to entertain. She may hide it well, but she really loves it.”
I was skeptical about the whole thing to begin with. When Martha came out onto the porch my fears seemed validated. She was a stern looking woman, her steel gray hair pulled into a tight bun and piercing eyes squinting at my unfamiliar automobile. When Nick stepped out her face softened slightly. “Nick, you devil, what poor soul did you con into bringing you up here?”
I climbed out of the car and smiled nervously. Nick came around the car and clapped me on the back while introducing me to Martha. “She’s a fine lady this one. You two’ll get along just fine. Oh and I may have told her you would provide her with a little noontime sustenance. Where’s Johnny boy?”
Martha rolled her eyes. “He’s in the barn working.”
“What in the hell is he doing that for? I got here just in time.” Nick winked at me as he headed toward the barn. “Don’t let her fool you, she’s really a pussycat.”
Martha sighed the sigh of the long suffering. “John’s got work to do today Nick. And if you distract him, so help me I’ll….”
“I’ll make sure the job gets done dear. You just make sure to take good care of my young friend.”
Martha shook her head. “Come on in. I could use some help getting lunch together.”
I followed Martha into the house. It was a beautiful old farmhouse. The wood floors glowed and everything was neat as a pin. The kitchen had a huge cast iron wood stove and miles of gleaming countertops. The smell of fresh baked bread and drying herbs filled the air. An ancient golden retriever was sleeping next to the woodstove. When I walked past him he raised his head and sniffed the air. He got up and shuffled slowly toward me and nuzzled my hand when he reached my side. I bent down and scratched his ears. He had the sweetest face and softest fur. “That’s Farley. He’s a good old dog. Be careful though, once you start petting him he’ll expect you to continue.” Martha said.
She began pulling food out of the fridge and cupboards. She directed me to chop vegetables. I watched her move about the kitchen as I sliced carrots. Martha was perhaps the most efficient person I have ever met. There was no movement wasted, no time ill spent. She was preparing lunch, canning vegetables and paying bills simultaneously. And she never missed a beat. She was not a talkative woman, but that didn’t make it uncomfortable. In fact it was soothing to be around her as she worked.
We made the lunch and set the table. When everything was ready Martha sent me out to fetch the men. “And don’t let Nicky give you a hard time.”
I went out to the barn to find Nick and John sitting in the barn sharing a pipe. “Well hello there young lady. I suppose Martha sent you out to bring us in for lunch?” Nick said.
I nodded. John stood up and introduced himself to me. He was a giant of a man, broad shoulders, strong rough hands and thick arms. His blue eyes were caught in a permanent squint from years of working in the sun. This was a man who had spent his life working this farm.
We all walked back up to the house. When Farley saw Nick enter the kitchen his tail began to wag furiously. “There’s my boy!” Nick boomed.
Farley charged at Nick, trying to jump up on him. “Oh that’s my boy, who’s a good dog?”
“That will do Nick. You’re going to get him all riled up and then his hips will be aching later on. Now everyone go wash your hands.” Martha instructed.
After we washed up we sat at the table. The food was delicious and the conversation lively. When we finished I helped Martha clear the table and do the dishes while Nick and John went out on the porch to share another pipe.
“Why don’t you go out and sit with the boys while I serve some desert?” Martha smiled at me for the first time. It felt like a seal of approval.
I met the men out on the porch. “Ah, Martha release you from kitchen duty?” John asked.
“Yup. She said that I should join you while she serves up desert.”
Nick patted his ample belly, “That wife of yours is going to make me a fat man John.”
I laughed, “It looks like you made a good start all on your own.”
Nick winked at me and smiled. “I had a bit of help.”
John laughed a deep booming laugh. “That’s true. Nick’s wife was one of the best bakers around. I never had anything tastes as good as her blueberry pie. Don’t tell Martha.”
“You were married Nick? I would have thought you were a confirmed old bachelor.”
Nick laughed and shook his head. “That’s what my wife used to say. But yes I was married. Forty years. She was a saint.”
“She would have had to be to put up with you for forty years.” I laughed.
“I was quite a looker in my day and I own land. I’m a keeper. She was lucky to have me.”
John and I laughed at this. Nick join in at first but his smile faded. After a moment he stood up and said, “Where’s that dog? I fell like stretchin’ my legs a bit.”
As Nick walked away John said, “He’s still hurting about losing her.”
“His wife?” I asked.
“Yup. She was his whole world and he was hers. Never seen two people so in love.”
“How long since she passed?”
“Three years today.”
“Oh…if I had known I wouldn’t have….”
John held up his hands. “Nick’s a big boy and he has a thick skin. I wouldn’t worry about it much.”
I nodded. “I think I’ll go see if Martha needs a hand.”
I went around to the kitchen door and found Nick staring out over the valley. I watched him for a minute before he realized I was there. “Hey there lady.”
“Hey.” I kicked at the dirt for a minute. “I’m sorry about joking around like that. I didn’t mean to offend.”
Nick shrugged. “No harm done. You know you’re a bit like her. She was pretty feisty too.”
I smiled. “She must have pretty amazing.”
Nick squinted at the sun and nodded. “She was. One of the most amazing people I’ve ever had the good fortune to know. There was a lot to love about that woman. A lot to love. I was completely mad about her. We were crazy about each other. It was a fiery affair our marriage. Both stubborn as the day is long. We would fight like cats and dogs about all kinds of things. Then I would whisk her upstairs…. Well you don’t need to know about that. There were all kinds of things that drove me crazy about her too though. She used to love to eat toast before bed. She’d make two slices with butter and bring them up into the bedroom. Then she’d cuddle up in the covers, eat her toast and leave her plate on the nightstand. A little later I would come upstairs to crawl into bed and the sheets would be full of crumbs. Made me crazy.”
We both laughed and sat on the step to the kitchen. I was quiet for a minute and then asked, “What happened?”
“She had cancer. It came on real fast. She was in the hospital for a few weeks. I stayed beside her as much as they would let me. Don’t think I was home one night the whole time. Then one morning I woke up in the chair beside the bed and she was gone. It was peaceful anyway. Then there was so much to do. Paperwork, funerals. It was a regular circus. I don’t think I stopped moving for days afterward. A lot of folks showed up for the funeral. She was well liked. Then there was the reception afterward. Martha took care of all that. The house was full of people. I don’t think there had ever been that many people there. At the end of the night after everyone left I got real tired all of the sudden. So I dragged myself upstairs and got ready for bed. When I climbed in the sheets were full of crumbs. I hadn’t slept in the bed since she left for the hospital. And you know I didn’t cry when she passed, I didn’t cry at the funeral, I didn’t cry at the reception. I held it together the whole time. But lying there in the bed we had shared with toast crumbs all around me I bawled like a baby. I guess it was realizing that this was the last time I would sleep in a bed full of her toast crumbs. It sort of broke my heart. I still tear up a bit thinking about it.”
And he had. So had I. We sat in silence for a while both squinting at the sun. Then he patted me on the leg and said, “Let’s get some desert.”
Nick gave me a gift that day. He gave me the gift of understanding the truth of love. Love is not just about the good times and the redeeming qualities. It is about arguments and irritating habits. Love is seeing a person for what they really are, all of them, and choosing them. Love doesn’t happen in spite of flaws, it happens because of them. Love is forgiveness. Love is acceptance. Love is all encompassing.
Love is crying over the last toast crumbs.
