Guest at the homestead

By  L.P Yabut

It was raining bullets in the cold night; the steaming train gave one loud honk as its wells scratched over the tracks when it reached the station of Redfield’s Station in a small town of Redfield. Summer was dying and spring was being conceived. A tall man with black hair wearing a big black coat, holding a cane in one hand and a bag in the other emerged from the smoke and peered around and saw passengers like him make their way out of the station. He stepped casually and looked around aloofly at the same time, he saw rows of cabs nearby and approached the one at the end. The cab driver was a stout man in the driver’s seat, eating a sandwich and smoking simultaneously. The lonely traveler only looked at him emotionless, but in his opinion the man, if not a brute, then an oaf. “Excuse me sir!”, he said in a somewhat impatient voice to the driver filled with crumbs and covered in smoke; the driver blew a puff of smoke at his direction and said, “yeah, what is it?”, he said in a deep voice resembling that of a toad and squinted at him with a look that stink of suspicion. The tall stranger was not at all impressed by this man’s demeanor. “To Hudson drive please!”, he said calmly, tolerating the unpleasant chauffeur. The cab had to cross several blocks, ask directions from passersby and streets only to arrive at a rural area with a sign that said “21, Hudson Drive”. The tall man was clearly frustrated with the cab driver, he was a gruff driver and had little knowledge about the ins and outs of Redfield. The man saw a vast open land where tall trees grew and the air was clearer than ice, it was magnificent. The man with a can and bag in hand emerged from the taxi doors and made his first steps to the road running along houses after houses, but before he could make his departure, the cab driver asked, “excuse me, sir. I didn’t catch your name” in a milder tone, “Buchard, Charles Buchard!”, he said occupied in making his way to ahead of the road.

In a large, whitewashed homestead with red gable roofs with crops of corn, tomatoes and others in front, a pasture in the back, Mrs. Constance Fletcher was at home with her three kids, Bobby was reading a book silently and motionless on the couch, Luna was amongst her dolls at the dining table where cakes and tea were set, and little Jack was in his crib suckling on his formula. Mrs. Fletcher was staring at the clashing winds outside waiting for a certain car horn honking in a certain driveway, but there was no sign of Jack. Mrs. Fletcher sat next to her eldest son and peered down at the book he was reading and silently read along whilst slurping her coffee, three raps on the front door and three more induced her to open it, she was aghast to see a tall man in black with a cane and bag in his hands. “Excuse me sir, but it seems you’ve got the wrong house.”, she said prudently. “I’m sorry ma’am, I know this is in short noticed, but I just got off with a Mr. Jack Fletcher five days prior.”, Charles Buchard said casually. Constance stroked her chin with her thumb and index finger whilst she analyzed the man, he looked rather eerie dressed in all black and his cane looked a large black pin with a red tip at the bottom hemming the tip and the base. “I’m so sorry sir, my husband did tell me someone was going to stay here for seven days.”, a smile appeared on her face amidst the awkwardness, “No worries ma’am; my name is Charles Buchard, I am pleased to make your lovely acquaintance Mrs. Fletcher.”, Charles Buchard said with an unexpected smile that clashed with to his grim looking clothes. Constance handed him a towel and made him some tea. Charles slurped his peppermint tea on a chair inverted to Bobby’s couch and peeked at the boy who busied himself with a riveting tale, Bobby noticed this and started to get frustrated, he didn’t like it when someone looked at him abruptly, “may I help you mister?”, he said coldly with a one eye squinted at him, “no thank you!”, Charles said passively. “Bobby! Come help me with the table.”, his mother called, and Bobby went with her to the dining table and set the candles whilst Constance set the plates and silver ware and Luna folded the napkins primly. “Well, I must say, this looks rather elegant.”, Charles said as he was impressed by how elegant and beautiful the setting was, but when Mrs. Fletcher came out of the kitchen holding a large platter with her mitten hands, a sweet aroma came from it, Charles’ felt his stomach grumbled as he ogled the large platter. When Constance finally opened the lid, his eyes were aimed like swords at the divine roasted goose, when Constance carved it into finely sliced pieces, the flesh was so tender that the knife sunk into it as easy as sinking into butter, the golden skin crunched like a potato chip, the broth like juices slid down the steel blade and Charles couldn’t help but take in that scented steam. During dinner Mrs. fletcher waited for her husband and Charles waited for his host and refused to go see his room before he could thank him as much as he did Constance, “thank you for that amazing meal, Mrs. Fletcher!” Mrs. Fletcher was grateful to have such a wonderful guest. The young man and Mrs. Fletcher sat down for tea at the parlor and told her stories about how he got to this town to see historical sites and complemented the fresh air of the rural areas, he said that city life has made him dull like everyone else there and took this seven-day vacation as an opportunity to visit a nice little town in the country. “I’m glad to hear that Mr. Buchard, but this town too has its own version of dullness in my opinion.”, she said sarcastically, if Charles Buchard wanted to spend a good seven days in the small quiet town and make a little space for himself, Mrs. Constance Fletcher in the other hand wanted to see the big city, the lights, the music and the excitement. she wanted to climb the tallest building and see the structures beneath the afternoon sun, she wanted to drink coffee in a caffe and shop in a meg mall, and she knew that her children would love to be exposed to new sights and sounds, and it might make Jack happy too. Constance said that her husband was a hardworking man who meets a lot of people, but never really goes anywhere and he tells his family about all the strange people he meets that’s what she loves about her husband, he isn’t a dull man. In the middle of their conversation, Constance and Charles heard car horns honking in the driveway. Constance and the children all came outside to meet Jack and Curious Charles peered out the window to get a good look at him. he astounded to see that the vehicle outside was a yellow cab, kind of the one who took him to Hudson drive. The door swiftly opened and heard loud footsteps and he was nonplussed to see the worst driver he’s ever seen. The man reeked of tobacco, his back was bent, and he was all sweaty. Charles looked at him awkwardly, but Jack Fletcher’s eyes widened in surprise and wondered what his former passenger was doing here. “he’s the guest who’ll be staying for a week.”, informed Constance, but Jack was still puzzled, “please excuse my tardiness, sir!”, Jack said apologetically, and Constance showed Charles to bed after Charles saw what a riffle Jack’s spoon was.

On the first day Charles woke up in his gable bedroom and a divine crusty scent lured him downstairs. Charles made his way to the kitchen and saw the table was a mess of broken eggs, flour and spilt milk, but the oven was hot and came out perfectly rounded and firmly crusted muffins that the Fletchers have been baking. After the tray cooled, Constance implored Charles to take one, and he obliged. Later that day, Charles watched Jack and the kids pluck the tomatoes and corn together as they laughed, he has never seen a family like this, he and his sibling clashed until their parents emerged from the foggy loud city and put some order in the house.

The next day they were all having dinner and Charles dodged the chicken bones and the peas that flew from Jack’s mouth, plate and spoon, Jack wasn’t a dull man there was never a mild moment with him. It was Wednesday afternoon and Charles was strolling the small town, for a small town it was buzzling in shops and stores, but cars were rare, and bikes were frequent, the air was clear, and the wind was strong. Charles was surprised to Jack’s cab in a parking lot, and Jack was arguing with a man who car was slightly bumped by the cab’s door. Jack apologized again and again, but the man had nine of it struck Charles to see Jack get hit in the jaw and get shoved over, Jack was enraged and hit the man back, they were only stopped by a passing police officer who urged the two men to stop, or he will take them both to the station, by the hand of the officer the quarrel was quelled. “Mr. Fletcher are you alright, Charles asked as he drove the taxi home whilst Jack just put an ice pack on his chest, abdomen and bloody eye. “what’s it to ya?”, he said curtly. Charles felt offended but didn’t want to escalate the situation. After a few minutes Jack started blabbing, “city folk are so rude, he called me an idiot!”, he said resentfully. Charles was deep in thought because he knew where Jack was coming from, people in the city can be so impatient and entitled, they were all pompous snobs.

“And to think, someone who came from a huge town of glittering lights, extraordinary sights and fast cars would be so obnoxious!”, exclaimed an enraged Constance as she cleaned Jack’s scar on his rugged face and iced his bruises. Jack was strong and firm despite his injuries, and Charles despite Jack’s crass nature felt sorry for him. “Just don’t think of that man anymore, Jack.”, she said to an enraged Jack. “We need to tell the cops about this, look at him!”, said a concerned Charles who was staring at the spilt blood from Jack’s head. “No! there aint no need to get him involved”, Charles was surprised at how angry Jack sounded, but he was intrigued to know who “Him” was. “What do you mean by— Him, Mr. Fletcher?”, Jacked looked down in shame and said, “The Police Chief here in Redfield — that’s my brother.”, he said softly. “that’s your brother? Isn’t that supposed to be good, he can help us!”, Charles said enthusiastically. But the couple fell silent, and Constance silently said, “you see, Mr. Buchard, Jack and his brother hasn’t talked in years.”. “And never will!”, Jack roared at the top his lungs in resentment. Charles had no Idea what that was all about, but he knew instantly that it wasn’t any of his business.

The next day, after he had a lovely stroll about the woods in the morning, Charles had never seen so many birds or tall trees that smelled of pine. After that Charles sat on the porch, he took a book from his bag and read as he watched Constance and the children harvest some corn for dinner. Charles had been entranced to see the fletchers and their children live in perfect harmony, the only harmony his family had was when he and his siblings threw China at each other. Charles places the book on the chair in the veranda and approached the family, “May I help you with that, Mrs. Fetcher?”, he was implying to Constance’s big basket full of cobs, Constance’s hand was about to give in as she was overwhelmed by the weight, she had to use all the strength of her back to carry it. Charles felt like he was holding two pales full of water in one hand. He just watched as the children busied themselves with taking the corn. He saw Jack resentfully looking from afar on the veranda, the doctor said it will take a full week to heal his arm and he shouldn’t be doing any work till then. Jack just turned his back away and shut the door hard. Constance saw Charles watching them with droopy eyes. She wondered what was wrong.

The next morning, Charles and Constance were having coffee, Charles looked out the window and saw Jack harvesting some tomatoes in a big basket that he held only on one firm hand, but no one knew how much it could take. Charles was concerned for the man he was injured, and he knew he only wanted to make himself useful again. He rushed out to the crops and asked, “may I help you, Mr. Fletcher?”, I a kid tone. “No.”, Jack said icily and persisted to put more tomatoes in the heavy basket, his arm was still firmly hanging. After one more tomato Jack’s arm dropped and the basket fell on the floor, squishing a few and the rest scattered on the ground. Charles hastily landed on the ground and started to pick up the one closes to his foot. “No, don’t!”, Jack said as he squatted down and started to pick up tomatoes with only his one good arm. Charles knew better than to argue with Jack in his state and let him carry on, “at least let me help you with the basket sir.”, Charles pleaded. In a gruff sigh Jack conceded, and they both went back inside. Charles saw a worried look on Constance.

The following day, the family all sat down for dinner for dinner. “So, there I was on the top floor of the Chrysler building enjoying some champagne and having a few croissants, but the view was even more spectacular, it was like I was surrounded by stars and the planes above me were like dragons.”, Constance and the children eagerly listened and vicariously imagined as Charles told the family about how he first climbed the Chrysler building. Although Jack looked less amused, “we already got lights here in Redfield and unlike in New York they just don’t exist to stand out, each one has a purpose.”, he said inquisitively. Don’t you think it’d be wonderful Jack to see New York or even Paris at least once?”, an entranced Constance said. “I could see the cab right now; I wouldn’t get any further than the next town, now Vegas, that’s a better story.”, he said sarcastically. Constance just briskly stood up and said, “excuse me!” coldly and went back to the kitchen. Jack was nonplussed and looked around, “what did I say?”.

Charles had two days more to spend in Redfield and he is still dissatisfied. He has seen everything, the green hills where willows grew, the pines sprinkled with dew where the nightingales sang and the clear sky were the stars dance, he still wanted to see more of the small town because he knows there is more, he just doesn’t know what. He was strolling in the woods watching the birds fly from the broughs to the sky. He saw a car parked and out came two men with hunting rifles, he noticed the no hunting signs nailed on the trees; he hid behind an undergrowth and watched the two men as they stalked a litter of foxes, he wanted to do something, but was too scared, but before one of them can pull a trigger a shot gun was fired behind them and the foxes scattered. Charles saw it was Jack Fletcher holding a shot gun and the two men ran when they saw a man in police uniform, “Mr. Fletcher?”. “Where do you think, those boys are going drew?”, Jack asked, “to their mama’s skirt!”, the officer joked and laughed. Tonight, the Charles was going to have dinner with all the Fletchers, now that old wounds were closed with an open mind. “Remember when we use to steal crops from old man Johnson —and he almost had a stroke?”, said Jack and the brothers laughed that made Charles envious.

Today was the day, The Fletchers all went with Charles to the station and Charles appreciated it a lot, but before the train can come, jack Fletcher had a few words to say despite his attitude towards city involved factors, “Chuck— I mean Charlie, I owe you an apology.”, he said apologetically. “I was not the host I should’ve been, luckily my wife had to fill in. I also should thank you for your stories; me and Andrew have always dreamed of making it big in New York perhaps when we were kids, your story reminded me that dream and made me realize that nothing was too late, not New York and not my brother.”, he said with tears and Charles was happy to listen. “…And I hope you can share your travels with your family and you all can learn something together.”, Jack went on and embraced Charles like he was his own. Charles and the Fletcher might have been miles away, but their stories weren’t.

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End