Dovetail(45)

Alice, standing nearby, said, “Nothing happened. He was just watching me play, the same as at home.”

Their father listened, and when all of them had spoken their piece, he said, “It sounds as if a misunderstanding has occurred. I trust there will be no more misunderstandings in the future?”

“No, sir,” John said.

“Very good.” He nodded. “I will speak to Frank myself and put this to rest. I can’t afford to lose a good employee because of a young man’s hot-tempered ways.”

Later, after John had left to sleep in the barn and Alice was getting Daisy and the other girls off to bed, Pearl took the opportunity to talk to their father in private, approaching him while he was smoking his pipe on the front porch. “Father? Can I tell you what I saw at the theater with Frank and John?”

“Was it different than what Alice and John told me? Was there some form of impropriety?” He gave her an inquiring look.

“No, sir. It happened just as they said. It’s just that . . .” She paused, thinking how best to express it. “I think there’s more to it. I think that John is sweet on Alice.” Her father was so quiet, she wasn’t sure he fully understood. “He seems to go out of his way to help her in the kitchen, and he’s always looking at her too.”

He blew out a puff of sweet tobacco smoke and looked at her, his eyes perceptive and knowing. “I too have noticed that the young man seems smitten with my eldest daughter.”

“You have?” she asked, astounded. If their father had noticed, it was worse than she suspected. The good news was that it hadn’t gone too far yet. There was still time for John to become disenchanted with Alice, and when that happened, she, Pearl, could step in and be there for him. “Why haven’t you said anything to him? You need to stop this. We don’t even know John’s family. If people start gossiping, it would be the talk of the town.”

He shifted his body toward her, his mouth set in a firm line. “Alice does so much for all of us and asks for nothing in return. Sometimes I forget she’s still a young woman. She works for the betterment of this household from sunup to sundown with nary a complaint. I cannot lighten her load, but I see no harm in letting her enjoy some attention from a gentleman for the summer. Can you begrudge your sister such a small thing?”

She squirmed. “Well, no, of course not. It’s just that people talk.”

“Yes, they do,” he agreed. “Foolish people with nothing better to do always talk. You might learn to ignore them, Pearl.”

“I’m just thinking of Alice and her prospects.”

Her father carried on. “As for us not knowing John’s family, while that is true, his conduct and habit of diligent work speak well for him and for them. And soon enough, John will be back to school, and this will be over. We can let Alice have her day in the sun, can’t we, Pearl?”

“I guess so.”

He sighed. “Winter will be here soon enough, and all of this will be behind us.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE





1983


Joe woke in the middle of the night to the sound of an owl hooting in the distance. The dream he’d just awakened from had featured a hooting owl as well, which was disconcerting to his sense of reality.

The Owl Dream was a pleasant enough one, although it was tinged with longing. He always woke from the experience feeling like he’d lost something valuable.

In the dream, he was the same man as before. He’d sensed that this man had his physical build, not overly tall but tall enough, slim and fairly muscular. Young too, at least in his twenties. He remembered Dr. Jensen saying that of course his dream self would match him physically; it was an extension of Joe himself. Joe hadn’t agreed. The dream man was a whole separate entity. It was like he’d climbed into this man’s body and saw the world through his eyes.

This particular dream always began with a nighttime walk. He sensed that a building was behind him, but he never looked back. His focus was on the letter in his hand, a letter he’d written and was now going to deliver. He walked over dirt and patches of grass, heading straight to his destination. A house was nearby, but it was dark, every light long having been extinguished, every occupant sound asleep in their beds. No one would know what he’d done, and this idea pleased him. The letter was trifolded, light in his hand but heavy with meaning. He was eager for her to read it.

He found the tree, a mature hardwood with a trunk so thick he couldn’t have wrapped his arms around it. A small hollow slightly larger than a basketball had naturally formed in the trunk, and this was where his journey had led. He reached up and placed the letter inside the hollow, anchoring it with something metal already inside.

Dr. Jensen had asked him, “Who is the letter for?”

“It’s for her.” There was no need to explain. His dreams always centered on this woman, the one this man loved but whose face Joe himself never saw.

“What was in the letter?”

Joe had shaken his head. “I don’t know for sure, but I have the idea it’s important. He’s revealing something he would never tell anyone else.”

Dr. Jensen had tapped on the arm of his chair. “The man in the dream is you, Joe, your subconscious self. Next time you have the dream, tell yourself to read the letter, and maybe when you wake up, you’ll know what secret you’re holding back.”