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About Medford mail tribune. (Medford, Or.) 1909-1989 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 2, 1936)
UTTERLY IRRESPONSIBLE Illustrated by SKRENDA H ml V" , W Gardner Xr White in the snowy road. A big, - HEautumn -wind was keening across the fi.-lds and around the house. There was no sun and all the world was gray and heavy. Jennie Zurbrick straight ened from her task, screwed her eyes tight shut in a special kind of weariness and opened them to the f r j. i 1 white and green box of a house with the banking jf straw. ' She huddled into her leather jacket and her brown skirt whipped in the wind along with a lock of hair beneath the edge of an old brown felt hat. Her face wu thin, bony. She was tall and walked with a free swing. In ipite of her sombre eyes, everything about bet was quick and alive. The door of the little white home opened violently. "Hi, Jen I Where's my breakfast?" He stood on the step In a red and brown striped flannel robe, hit fair hair rumpled. "Where do you think?" she called. Her grin was eager, matching his. "How about a cupacoffee for t man what's crippled and has seen better days? , . . Good "lord, but it's cold! What do I smell?" He strode across the little square living room to the kitchen, pulled open the oven door. "Baked beans!" He duped Jen to him ecstatically. "Don't be silly!" "Silly? The trouble with you it, Jen, you're undeveloped, aesthetically speaking." "The trouble with me is," she said tartly, "that I've been up since six, lugging straw and manure and it'll take more than beans to stir .me, aesthetically speaking. You'd better get aome clothes on." "Well, Hi'll appreciate 'em, anyway." "Hi?" She turned toward him, startled. "Oh, didn't I tell you I asked him out? Him and the Kelscys I just happened to run into him. , ." She stood and stared at him. "What about your mother?" she said. "Mother?" He slapped a hand to his head. "Good heavens, I did say something to her about coming out today, didn't I ? Oh, well I'll fix that up!" He strode toward the tele phone. "Pour me some coffee, will you? . . . Hello Hello Give me Garfield 9321 . . . Hello Mither? We've had some unexpected com pany come in ... I don'l believe 1 can get in for you. Do you mind?" "No, of course not'" Jen murmured. "Of course not!" "How about coming back with me after work some night this week and staying all night? Could you make it? . . . How about Wednesday? . . . Swell! Awfully sorry about today. Mother!"- He turned from the phone with a pleased grin. "There that's fixed up!" he said, re lieved. "Oh, that's fixed up, is it?" she said dryly. Suddenly he made a little sound, put his cup down and went into the bedroom. He came back and dropped a bit of cardboard into bet lap. "It's a lottery ticket," he announced. "It'i your!" "Thanks. What did you pay tor it?" "Only three fifty I" Hla voice defied her to find that any picayune bargain. "Of course, if you win thousands, you might buy me a new typewriter," he said. "First of all, I'd get me a new dustpan," she said. "Or maybe a baby." "You're not implying you're bored with my company, are you ? This'd be a swell place for a baby now wouldn't It?" A car came ; noisily over the brow of the hill. "Good grief, there comes Hi nowl I'd better get a shirt on!" He called from the bedroom: "I thought we might as well make a day of it." HI, EVERYBODY I" Peter ailed from the bedroom. He came out, kissed Bess Kelsey and hit Hi on the shoulder. Hi Am ber was slim and short and always wore a tie and kept his dark hair brushed. "Well, what are we celebrating today?" he said. "Peter's foresight in buying a Mexican lot tery ticket at only three-fifty I" Jen said quickly. "Of course we haven't paid for the last cord ol wood. But when you think that for three fifty thrtt-fifiy, mind you ... Hi, for good ness sake, keep out of thai oven I Hie num ber of times those beans have been smelled of there won't be any aroma left in 'em!" "I've got a tew little gadgets out in the car," Hi said. He brought In cheese and pickles, salt-rising bread and Italian onions. "Just for filling in chinks," he saiu. "Hi, I love you devotedly. Devotedly," Jen said. "The truth is that Peter only told me five minutes ago that you were coming. Luckily, there's a big pan ol beans and an apple pie. But there might just as well have been two chops and two cups of chocolate pudding!" Bess wrote book reviews for the Express; William wasn't working just now but he had a line on several things at last and he'd done some first class poems that Peter was printing on hi hind press Hi stood with back to the stove and said. What's the matter, Jen? 'Mad because we came out and used up all your Sunday?" "No," she said, "1 like you to. come. But I like to know you're coming. 1 hope 1 haven't seemed inhospitable or anything. Pot luck was all right in the old days when cellars were full and people had their own orchards and smokehouses. It's not quite the same nowadays. If you hadn't brought a few fillers. . ." "Well, just bread and butter would have been all right. Lord, it's quiet out here!" "Yes, isn't it?" "You don't sound as if that were a selling point."- "I thought it was when I came I'm not so sure now, The winter gets p'etty long. I was. keen to buy this place, too. But when you're in town rushing about madly to this boring place or that, you think: 'If only I had more time for reading!' But you can have too much time." "I daresay you're right." 'People in i place make it seem quite dif ferent. Or work. But I haven't iny special work: And no family. Peter has his print ing and he uses most of his evenings for it. "Why don't you' have a family?" She was silent a moment. "You know about what Peter earns," she said at last. Her voice had suddenly lost its warmth. "And if we had enough for a baby, it'd probably go for a first edition." "Well, if I see a 'little girl anywhere, cheap, I'll pick her up for you," he said, grinning. NOW, you can't tell me you didn't enjoy that more than you would have a day with mother, my girl," Peter said when they were alone. "Oh; Peter!" she answered, a little help lessly. "What do you mean 'OA, Ptltrf " "Of course I like Hi and William and Bess as people. But I couldn't help thinking all day about yout mother and of how she'd probably planned and told people. I suppose the stayed home, alone, sooner than let folks know she didn't come." "Oh, don't be a fool, Jen! Mother's pot like that. She'i not one of these over-sensitive old ladies you read about in boob. She has a life of her own and she doesn't depend on me for it, either." "All right, Peter, maybe it's ust because It seems part of everything else. You take other people's feelings so for granted. Oh, no I haven't enjoyed this day, Peter! I haven't!" He leaned over and knocked bit pipe on the woodbox, "Huh?" he said, a little skep tically, "When I think of the money you throw away on tickets and the like when, after all, your income is limited you know It won't stretch, and you don't want children. And this business of collecting first editions. I know you run with an artistic crowd, but, after all, you're a business man and young and you're buying this house. You can't afford to collect first editions. Oh, well, maybe it's only that I get lonely and I'm taking it out this way." , That week cold set In in earnest. Jen went to town one day and bought wool, began knitting Peter a sweater. "Talk about my squandering!" Peter said. "It's for a sweater and won't cost as much as one from the store!" she said. "Besides, it keeps me busy." "So you get restless, Mrs. Zurbrick?" 'Sometimes." TWO nights later he drove heme in a new car, Not new, but new to the Zur bricks. "Peter!" the said, and waited. "Now, wait wait, darling! . , , Don't get out your axe yet I It'i yours!" "Mine?" "Yours." He took her by the hand, point ing out the distinctive points. "Even t clock 1" he boasted. "It's grand car," she said, but slowly. "Only, Peter, we can't possibly afford two cart, Not possibly." "There you go again, Mrs. Pinchpenny! Ot course we can .".fiord it if you need it. You're going all edg), woman. You need to get out more. Didn't you tell me you were lonesome? You can run in to town now whenever you want to! See a show get out of yourself!" "I'm not lonesome for town," she said, "I'm lonesome for you, Peter ... I wouldn't care if I never saw another soul provided I really saw you when you were here." Once inside he pulled her to him and looked at her with that eng.iging grin of his. "I'll bet you do love me, all the same," he defied her. 1 . She pressed her cheek against his. "Yes, I'll bet I do," she admitted. One night, with the larder low, pay day four days and Christmas ten days off, Peter said: "What'U we do for Christmas?" "I've asked your mother here," Jen said steadily. "For all day? I thought maybe we'd go in and have dinner with her and then . ." "I've asked her here," Jen said again. SHE took what little there was and bought tiny presents for Peter and his mother, It was easy to get a tree and to mak wreaths for the light green front door of their little white house. There was one strange package with a great red satin bow and Peter didn't quite look at Jen as she opened it. It was an autogAphed first edition of Sara Teasdale's poems. Jen sat looking at it, holding it gently in her brown hands. At last she looked up. "It's' lovely," she said. "I love it!" Peter grinned. The second week in January the phone rang one day. "Hello Jennie?" Hi Amber said. "Got you a-little girl!" "Really? Where?" "In my pocket. I meant to get her to you for Christmas but I couldn't quite make it." "Red hair?" "No. Brown. But quite nice, for all that., Snub nose. Sara Brenner's little girl. Sara's got a chance to go to Rome for a couple months. Her mother-in-law who always took Amaryllis went and died on her!" "Amaryllis?" ' "Wait wait a minute, Jen. The name's nothing to do with her doesn't fit! Snub nose, I told you! . . . Well, how about it? This is a toll call, remember, gal!" "Oh, I'd love to, Hi, but I couldn't." "Why, not?"' . "Peter doesn't like children around. Really doesn't, I mean." "Oh, I thought you were lonesome." Jen looked away from the phone toward the door of Peter's workroom. "I am some times," she said seriously. "But I couldn't, Hi. It would tie us-down. We couldn't ever get to town or no, I couldn't, Hi. But tell me who gets her, will you?" "AH right, Jen. Sorry," Hi said, and hung up. Jen had been knitting. She went back and picked up her work; the topaz needles began to click. Presently the threw the knitting on the table, walked to the phone, rang. "Hello hello, Hi? ... Jen . . Hi, It it too late to change my mind? , . .No. I'll come in and see Sara tomorrow morning. . .'Bye, Hi." At dinner she said quietly enough: "Peter, I'm going to have Sara Brenner't little girl here for a couple months. I'm going in to get her tomorrow." "Good heavens, Jen are you crazy?" "Maybe. Anyway, I've said I'd take her," "You're mad. Why, we'd have to have someone here to look after her if we so, much as stepped out nights!" Amaryllis was packed and waiting and Sara was volubly gi'eful. There wjis a funnyllttle snort of mirth from the corner, . len looked and her own face wrinkled into an answering smile. Amaryllis had pushed herself into her own woolly brown coat and it was on back wards. . ' "Come on, my little girl, I'll help you," Jen said in just the right tone. And in less than ten minutes they were in the car speed ing toward the little white house on the rim of the lonely vallq. "Amaryllis it too much," Jen said after the first mile. "Nanna called me Poll," Amaryllis said. "Poll?" Jen considered that doubtfully "Well, all right." Amaryllis was round with red cheeks and straight brown hair and brown eyes that sparkled nearly all the time with a delirious merriment. She looked as if the found life very good and ve7 funny. AI'TliR she was in bed at last, rubbed and kissed and patted, in the oilier tiny Ix-droom, Jen came and tat on the stool. "Peter," she said softly, "you don't really mind her, do you?" "Mind her? 1 think she's a nuisance but I suppose I can stand It for a couple of months." "Nuisance? Amaryllis?" "Well, she been here a few hours and already r.he monopolizes all the conversation al! the attention. . ." He grinned a little at her. "Don't look hurt, lady. You ought to feel flattered!" She stood up. "1 don't especially," she said. "It seems as if you ought to have a little overflow of charm to use for little girls. Well," she ended sharply, "perhaps she'll turn into a ghost, like me." Daytimes, Jen bundled herself and Amaryllis into coats and hats and overshoes and they were out of the house and into a world of snow and exploration, of adventure and laugh ter. They built an enormous snowman. They hollowed out a cave where the snow had drifted into the corner by the woodshed. They followed mysterious tracks. They rode down hill. But there was always a look of waiting in Jen's eyes. The evenings were the same as always. Peter was printing something for a friend of Bess Kelsey's. Amaryllis and Lincoln had a birthday to gether. Twins, Amaryllis said. Peter couldn't get off and Jen and Amaryllis planned a full day. The afternoon before Peter phoned. "They've drawn the lottery," he said. "How much?" "Not a cent. But I've got the day off after all and Bess is going to have an all day con solation party!" "Tomorrow?" "Beginning at eleven." "Peter, it's Amaryllis' birthday." "Well, what of it?' She can celebrate with mother, can't she? I called mother and fixed it all up." "Peter I can't. She's counting on it." "I tell you it's all fixed!" "You'll have to unfix it." He was sulky .that night but in the morning he seemed to have forgotten his grievance. After breakfast they made the cake. Just as it came out of the oven Peter went to the phone. Jen slipped a jacket on, picked up the chicken feed and opened the door. When she came back Peter was whistling. "Well," he said, "they're all coming here for the consolation party!" Jen just stared at him. Then she turned without a word, took Amaryllis' leggings from their hook. "Come on, Poll !" she said. "All ready for the long hill!" They made ready in silence. But at the door Jen turned. "If you need anything, you can drive over to North Collins," she said. "I thought you'd be tickled! Aren't you the one that's always getting lonesome out here?" "No," she said, "I'm all over that." She and Amaryllis dragged the sled to the road, to the little level place before the long dip. "Hang on like a limpet! Like a barnacle!" Jen said. The door opened. "Hi, Jen!" She didn't turn. Peter came across the yard in his green sweater. "Jen, wait a minute!" Jen said: "Like a barnacle, nowl" and they were off,' speeding like the wind, faster than the wind, down the long hill, Their caps were a red stretch, their voices only t laugh ing thread floating back up the hill to Peter. They moved away and away. . . Then the branch was there in the snowy road. A big, dead old branch. Jen swerved. - THE next day Jen opened her eyes and Peter sat beside her. "Why are you at home ?" she laid. . "Why do you think? I'm looking aftet you, Mm. Zurbrick." "Oh." She shut her eyes. Presently she taid: "Is Poll all right?" "Poll's practically perfect. She't getting dinner, aren't you, Poll?" There came from somewhere an explosive little giggle. After some long period of time Jen opened her eyes again. Peter was doing nothing, just sitting there beside her, her hand in hit, "Hurt much now?" "No." ' After another long time. "Jen, may I say something?" He let go her hand and folded his arms. "Once you get up and around I probably couldn't . , , Jen, I never kniw what lonesomeness was till. . ." "Till when, Peter?" "Till you went of) with Amaryllis yesterday and left me. You can learn a lot in a minute, 1 guess ... I found out what th country was like, alone in it all day and how it felt to sit knitting while I printed and how it felt to have somebody you care about not not very dependable. . ." He got U(- and began a little awkwardly but lovingly to vwjth the covers.' "Don't ever do it again, will you, Mrs. Zurbritk?" She was silent. When she spoke aji.un her eyes were on a bit of exotic lavender loveli ness in a vase on the table "What's that?" she said She looked as it she might cry, though she nevei did, "That ? Oh, that's an orchid. Petei said, his voice too casual, Then, defensively: "I know I cculdn I aflord it, but this it different, Jen. Honestly, it different. Il really ii t celebration and you mustn't scold me." "Oh, Peter!" She grinned faintly, htlpleasly, but she put out her unbandaged hand and let it rest in his. Copyright, PAGE SEVEN
