Bodark Creek - 43. Chapter 43

No one expected Walter to die before Dougie. It was true that Walter was seventy-five. But he was in good health, and Dougie was already eighty. He was in good health, too, but we all used to kid about how much longer he could last.

“You better let me have that last bit of ham,” he’d say at a Sunday dinner. “Never know how much longer I’ll be here with you.”

“You’ll outlast us all,” his wife would joke.

“Well, I’ve outlived Daddy, I know that much. And I outlasted Sonny, too. So for all we know, I’m the oldest living Bronner.”

“Then I’m the next oldest,” Walter boasted. “And I don’t want to hurry you off to the cemetery. But I’m planning to outlive you by at least ten years.”

“How much you want to bet?”

“I’m not a betting man, and you know it. But it’s gonna happen.”

Unfortunately, the bet that Walter wouldn’t make ended on a Tuesday afternoon. June said he’d come in from the yard and was washing his hands at the kitchen sink. “I was in the dining room, paying some bills on the table. I heard a noise, and it must have been when he fell to the floor. But by the time I got to him, there was nothing I could do. The doctor said his heart gave out instantly.”

I know that’s what the doctors want us to believe, and maybe it’s so. But I hope I don’t go that fast. I’d like a moment to look around and say goodbye.

And we all soon said goodbye to June. There was the funeral, and everything at church. And then June told her us plans.

And maybe they made sense from her point of view. Or maybe they made sense to anyone outside our family. Because soon after Walter died, June said she wanted to move.

“Why?” was the first thing we asked. When she explained, we all tried talking her out of it. “We’ll miss you too much,” I said. “You’ve been part of our lives for over twenty years.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” she admitted. “But it’s the best thing.”

June was fifty-four. She was eight years younger than me. And she didn’t see anything left for her in town.

Her older daughter Ann had finished college. Her son Eric was almost done. And her younger daughter Carol was a sophomore in Denton. “So I’ve been seeing them less and less,” she said. “And I know Ann isn’t coming back to town. She took that job in San Antone. And I don’t think Eric and Carol will come back, either. And I’m not saying that I’m going to rush into another marriage. I loved Walter very much, and it will be a long time before I stop missing him. But no matter what he said, he’s been old for quite a while now. And I’d like to marry again before no one’s interested.”

“You never know who you’ll meet in town,” I pointed out.

“Maybe. But I know how to improve my chances.”

When June’s children started college, she also began taking classes. “Nothing hard,” she said. “But you know I’ve never read very much, not nearly as much as you. And when I did, it was a magazine, or a paperback, or something you could throw away. But when Ann came home from college her first Christmas, she brought all the books she’d been reading. And I picked up one, and as hard as it was to get through, I did. And it made me want to read more.”

“What was the book?” I asked.

“Something you probably read years ago. The Scarlet Letter.”

“Maybe I read it,” I said, laughing. “But now, I can only remember the title.”

Still, it had started June reading. And when she went to the local college to take an English class, she met some interesting people.

“I liked that. But they were all so young. I want to be around people like that but who are my age. And I don’t think I’ll find that here.”

“But everyone loves you here. You’re not going to find that anywhere.”

“I know. But think about it. For all we talk, and for all the fun we’ve had, when was the last time someone talked to you about something you thought?”

I had to laugh again, but I couldn’t disagree. For all I’d read, and for all the books that piled up on the bookshelves Martin kept building for me, I don’t think I’d ever talked with him about one of them.

“Is that something new?” he might ask as he came to bed or saw me reading on the sofa.

“Yes,” I’d say. But that was all he’d want to know. The few times I mentioned, “You really ought to read this,” or “You’d like it,” he’d shake his head.

“I’ll leave reading to you and Del. And to Susan. You do more than enough to make up for me and Neal.”

So I could understand why June wanted to leave. But I couldn’t understand why she’d still want to go when she realized how much trouble it would cause.

“She wants us to sell the farm,” Dougie told Martin and me. “She wants the part of the money that would be hers and her children’s. And when I told her that there wasn’t any money. Not in the bank, anyway. That everything we had was in the farm and the land, she didn’t care. She just wants to go, and she knows she can’t do that without money.”

“Doesn’t she have anything?” I asked. I almost never asked anyone about money, so I really didn’t know.

“The three of us always agreed to put everything back into the farm,” Dougie said. “Even after Sonny died, Ruth went right along. And Ruth and I will gladly do that with June. We’ll listen to what she says. Only she doesn’t want that.”

They couldn’t even just sell her house. My three brothers houses were built right alongside each other. There was no reason that someone outside the family would want to live that close.

“Can’t Ruth talk to her?” I asked. It didn’t seem right for Martin and me to say anything.

“Ruth’s tried,” Dougie admitted. “And Leona’s tried. But June’s having nothing of it.”

When Del heard, he said, “Maybe they could get a loan and buy June out.”

“That would mean paying mortgages again,” Susan said. “And right now they’re just paying taxes. And you know how low they are.”

“Yeah,” Del said, laughing. “Less than we pay on our shack.”

“Maybe you could buy June out,” I suggested. Del and Susan had talked about moving.

“We could if it was just the house,” Del admitted. “But it’s more than that. June would want a third of what the farm’s worth, and she’s entitled to it. But if Susan and I bought that, we’d only be asking for problems. I mean, Ruth and Leona aren’t gonna last forever. Ruth’s, what, almost eighty? And Leona’s not much behind.”

“Leona’s fourteen years younger than Dougie. She was his second wife.”

“Okay, so she’ll be with us for a while, the good Lord permitting. But when Ruth goes, her children’ll want their share of the farm. So Susan and I would have to buy them out. And that still leaves Walter and Leona’s kids.”

“It’s a problem,” Neal said.

And it got worse when Ruth’s children tried to help. The three of them were only trying to buy out June. But then Dougie’s youngest daughter said she always thought she’d retire to the farm. And if Sonny’s children owned two thirds of it, they could make all the decisions.

“I told her it never happened that way,” Dougie said. “That Sonny, Walter, and I made all the decisions together. But none of our children have lived here for years. They only come back to visit and don’t really know each other. My brothers and me saw each other almost every day.”

There was another thing, too. None of my brothers’ children knew anything about running a farm. They’d all moved to the cities as soon as they could. And they forgot how much hard work owning a farm took.

So it had to be sold. That was fair. And it turned out Ruth didn’t really mind. “I mainly use the downstairs of my house, anyway. I still sleep up in the bedroom. But once I come down those steps every morning, I try not to climb them again.”

“I suppose I won’t miss it, either,” Leona admitted. “I’ve been cleaning up after those animals for so many years that maybe I won’t know what to do with myself. But I’m sure I’ll find something. And I remember when our house was new, and how much fun it was to live in. Maybe I’ll buy another new house and start over.”

“We won’t be far away,” Ruth told us. “And you and Martin are always in town.”

It was funny. It used to seem like the longest trip into town. Now, as Joann said, it was just ten minutes.

So the farm was sold, but not without a lot of tears. “This is how we got started,” Dougie said. “This is how we left the mill. This was our beginning.”

Everyone, from all the families, came to get something that was their favorite. Then Ruth, Dougie, and Leona moved into town. They bought houses in the better section, not where the mill was.

“We looked at those houses,” Ruth said. “They’re cheap. But they’re so run down. And Harold Celek’s son was putting up new homes out where the old Sturgard farm used to be.”

“The rooms are so much bigger,” Leona said. “And have you seen those kitchens?”

“We’ll be all right,” Dougie allowed. “It’s not what we thought would happen. But it might be better.”

“June ended up doing everyone a favor,” Neal said when it was over

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” I told him. “And I’d certainly never say that to anyone.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

He and Del ended up buying the farm. The bank gave them a second mortgage on their other land, and they sold the three small houses in town. “And we’re in hock up past our you-know-wheres,” Del joked. “It could all go wrong at any minute.”

“We’ll just have to work our you-know-wheres off,” Neal put in. But he didn’t seem to be worried. He moved into Walter’s old house. Del, Susan, and the children moved into Sonny’s. And they used Dougie’s as the new insurance office.

“If people would drive over to the mill end of town, they’ll drive out here,” Del decided.

“So all we lost in the bargain was Walter,” I told them one night at dinner. “And I know you’ve only ever known him as an old man with gray hair. But he was once the most handsome boy. You can’t see it in the old pictures because they’re only in black and white. But he had the lightest hair and the brightest smile. And I know I’m not supposed to say this, but he always was my favorite brother.”

They all said nothing for a while. We just kept eating. Then Neal said, “I’m really sorry, Mama.”