Vignette #67: Special

The flight was smooth and a little less than three hours. The airstrip was small and it had been no small feat finding a car rental place that would have something suitable waiting for them when they landed. Reese complained a little, but Ian just mused that it was just as good as the car he drove in college.

It was a thirty-five minute drive to the motel from the little private airport in Abingdon. Reese was amazed at how beautiful it was. Ian had forgotten himself, and pointed out various little places along the way that may have some interest.

Ian couldn’t wait to get to the old farm. The irony wasn’t wasted on him. It was like once he arrived he’d know how badly it hurt when the band-aid got ripped off. Until then, the echoes just bounced around inside him from place to place.

The creek beside the road reminded him of the time his Uncle caught him fishing so they’d have something to eat and beat him until he could barely fry the fish he’d caught for dinner. The old school house, now a community center, brought back memories of being beaten up by a kid one morning for his lunch, and then beat up by the same kid that afternoon because all he had were butter sandwiches. The old abandoned Five & Ten store, reminded Ian of the woman who owned it who told him that it wasn’t his fault his mama who a crazy whore who got herself killed.

As they drove up the old mountain road to the farm Ian was raised on, he felt nothing, no twangs of anxiety, no pride in returning something better than he left, and no aching sadness for those he left behind. He felt just like the air that day, so forgettable it couldn’t be forgotten.

It was finally April. The mountains didn’t seem green or ready to burst into spring. The Earth was trying hard, but it hadn’t managed to get much beyond the dirty brown of winter. Even Aunt Hil’s little yellow and grayish clapboard house seemed crispy and cold, as they passed it to the dirt road that would led back to the new house the Osborne’s had built on the nightmare Ian had come from.

By the time their rental had come to a stop, all three of the Osborne’s were standing in the front yard waiting on them. Ian introduced them to Reese, and Janie even hugged Ian told him how sorry she was. Little Ronnie could hardly contain his excitement. Ian fought hard recalling how tiny he was the last time he saw him.

Reese got the biggest kick of all out of the boy. When he asked him how old he was Ronnie smiled and said “Ten”, which, of course, he managed to get a minimum of two thick syllables out of.

“Now I’ve just made us some cornbread and soup beans. After the service we’ll all come back for a proper wake.” Janie said urging us to follow her into the house.

“Thank you, Mrs. Osborne…” Reese said.

“Aw, call me Janie…” she said letting the screen door slap closed behind her as she entered the house.

Kyle held the screen open. “Ronnie, you show these men where to wash up and hang those suit bags in your closet for me.”

“Okay, Daddy” the boy took the bags, both taller than him and struggled to get them inside.

“Here, buddy, I’ll help you, just show me where to hang them”.” Reese said helping the boy with his load.

“Okay, follow me to my room…” Reese and Ronnie disappeared inside.

“I’m sorry, but it will probably be just us and maybe Janie’s Dad at the service.” Kyle hung his head. “I doubt it Billy will make it. He called this mornin’ and said Vonnie was sick.”

“Kyle, I’m just glad you called me.” Ian put his hand on his shoulder. “This is the last place I want to be, but I don’t know that I could have lived with myself if I hadn’t come. She was the closest thing to a mother I had.”

“That’s what Janie said. I told her not to bother you at first, but I know how I would have felt, so I let her call.”

“I’m glad you did.” Ian looked around. “The place looks real nice Kyle, a real home. You’ve done well.”

“I try. Got to do right by my wife and the boy. I’m sure after we eat Ronnie will want to show you all around. You just tell him no if you don’t want to, you don’t have to give in to his every whim. It’s a rough time for you and you’ve had a long trip.”

Ian nodded his head in silent thanks as Kyle opened the screen for Ian. Once inside, Ian was overwhelmed by the smell of fresh cornbread and the salty brine of soup beans Janie was ladling into bowls around a nice little table. The house wasn’t fancy, but homey and warm, almost a shock to Ian as the drafty shack that had stood on this ground before had none of those attributes.

The five gathered around the table. Kyle lead blessing and four began to dig in. Reese turned to Ronnie. “Can you help a friend out?”

“Sure, Mr. Reese…” the boy perked up.

“I’ve never had this before. Is there a special way I’m supposed to eat it?”

“You never had soup beans and cornbread afore?” He was wide eyed.

“Not once. I’m not as privileged as you…”

“Well okay…you like onion?” He asked.

“Yes, I do.” Reese said.

Ronnie picked up the little portion of Vidalia on his plate and a knife. “Well, then you take yer onion and ya cut up up real good. Now you kin drop it in yer mug and crumble yer cornbread onit and then pour yer milk in, but I like mine right in ma soup beans.” He sliced his onion up and dropped it in the bowl.

Reese smiled. “I’ll try mine that way…” He mocked the boy’s movements. “I’ll just follow you.” And he crumbled his wedge of cornbread in his bowl just like the boy and tried a spoonful. “Mmmmm…that’s good.”

“I thought you’d like it.” Ronnie smiled. “What do you eat in California? Lotsa octopus and mary wanna?”

Ian and Reese almost choked they laughed so hard. “No, Ronnie, we’ve just forgotten how fine the simple things are.” Reese said.

Ian turned up his nose. “It’s hard to just get food sometimes, Ronnie. They fancy it all up, and sometime I just want to scream oh just throw it in a pan with some butter and put it on my plate.”

They enjoyed the rest of the meal, including a fresh apple pie that Janie had cooling on the window sill just as Ian remembered Aunt Hil doing many times. It was hot and sweet and topped with homemade vanilla ice cream Kyle had churned that morning. Reese kept telling them how he had never eaten so well.

When they were all satiated Ian asked Ronnie if he would show him the property and he squirmed until his Daddy told him it was okay. As Ian and Reese were led out the back door by a bouncing Ronnie, Janie reminded him that they had to start getting ready in an hour and to not talk the visitors ears off.

As the back door screen slammed behind them, Ian stepped into a world that wasn’t quite as he’d remembered it. When he left, the old spring house and barn were barely standing and the land behind barely kept. What lay before him now, were a fully restored barn and spring house, a cleared backyard with trimmed hedges and a freshly planted garden.

Ronnie grabbed Ian’s hand. “Com’on. Mr. Ian. Let me show you my museum!” He almost yanked Ian’s arm out of its socket racing down the path were the chicken coop used to be. When they stepped over the little bridge that had replaced the plank his Uncle had slammed down over the branch.

Ian spotted the old chicken coop there on the little knoll. It was still a little ragged, but the boy had obviously painted it in blue and gray. Ronnie stood in front of it and proudly held out his hands. “I painted it myself…in your favorite colors.”

“My favorite colors?” Ian had no idea what he was talking about, and neither did Ronnie as Ian’s favorite colors were black and red.

“Well, they aren’t the same exact colors in yer picture, but it was the closest I could find.” He said.

“My picture?” Ian asked.

“Uh huh, from that paintin you did that me and Daddy found in the barn.”

“Ronnie, I must have forgotten about that.” Ian said looking at Reese, who was just as confused as he was.

“I’ll show you…” Ronnie reached in his pocket and took a little key ring and stuck into the pad lock on the door. “Stuff in here is precious and gonna be worth a lotta money someday, so I keep it safe.”

“Good for you, boy…” Reese patted his head and tried not to laugh.

Ronnie swung the old door open, barely on its hinges and pulled the string flashing on an old overhead light. The place had been swept out and cleaned up, the old chicken nooks now filled and neatly organized with things that the boy had collected.

Ronnie went to the back wall and turned on another light. “See?” He pointed to a painting hanging on there.

Ian’s mouth dropped. He did recognize it, but it wasn’t something he had painted. “How the heck…” He said being careful to watch his language. He and Reese stepped closer and gazed at it.

“You painted this?” Reese asked staring in wonder as the swirls of different shades of blue and white and silver. “It looks just like…”

Ian nodded his head. “Ronnie, where did you say you found this?”

“In the barn, back in the old tack room, wrapped in a quilt and stuck in a nook. We almost didn’t see it. I showed it to Miz Hil, she said you musta painted it. You was always doing the most surprising things.”

Ian took it down from its little nail on the wall and held it so the boy could look. “Buddy, see this writing write here?” Ian pointed to the signature.

“Uh huh…it’s says ‘he”…”

“I think that stands for Herman Elysian. When someone does a painting they always sign it.” Ian put his hand on the back of Ronnie’s head. “I hate to disappoint you, but I didn’t do this.”

“Then blue and gray ain’t yer favorite colors?”

“Yes. Yes they are…” Ian lied. “I don’t know how this got here, but it was painted by a man who used to live in my house in California, and in my living room is a painting that this is a lot like. He called it “Untitled Masterpiece”. I don’t know why. It’s beautiful though, and this painting is just as beautiful. I think it’s my favorite of the two.”

Ronnie sighed. “So much for my pizza resistance…”

Ian and Reese controlled giggles. “I tell you what, I make you a trade.”

“Fer what?” He asked immediately becoming a business man. “It’s pretty spensive bein from a famous paintin’ maker an’ all.”

“Well, I brought some things from L.A. just for you. How bout we trade this painting for all of them?”

Ronnie little face beamed. “Deal!”

“Go run to the back seat of the car and get that big box for me and bring it to the back porch.” Reese tossed him the keys and the boy went slamming off to the front of the house.

They walked to the porch and stared at the painting together. “So where did this come from?” Sonny asked.

“I haven’t the slightest idea, but it’s a match to the one in my living room. I thought maybe it might be a series because of the title, but it’s odd that one of them turned up in my old barn.”

“You probably just bought it and forgot about it.”

“Reese, I could never afford anything like this…and no one I know could have afforded it either, let alone appreciate it. If it wasn’t Elvis or Jesus on black velvet, it wasn’t worth the effort to dust Aunt Hil always said.”