MAY 2018• COUNTRY LIFE IN BC Henderson masterminds an apology When we left off last time,
Kenneth had finally sought Newt Pullman’s help to get the Massey to turn over. But in high gear, full throttle, all he managed to do was bury the front end of the 285 into the sawdust pile as the rear tires continued to spin, flailing a shower of mud everywhere. Newt and Christopher helped him off the tractor. Rural Redemption, part 98, continues ...
Woodshed
Chronicles by BOB COLLINS
Deborah met Kenneth and
Ashley at the back door. His limp had grown dramatically worse. “Are you alright?” she
asked. “Fine,” said Kenneth tersely. “What happened?” “Nothing you need to
worry about. I don’t want to talk about it.” “Something must have happened.”
Kenneth stopped and
stared at Deborah. There was anger and exasperation in his voice. “How is it you find the concept of not talking about something so damned elusive? It’s quite simple if you put your mind to it. Just stop talking.”
Deborah fixed him with a
frosty stare, then turned and walked into the kitchen. “See, that wasn’t so bloody difficult was it?” said Kenneth as he lurched into his office and slammed the door. Ashley followed Deborah into the kitchen. There were tears on her mother’s cheeks. Ashley gave her a hug. “It’s okay, Mom. He just
really scared himself on the tractor, that’s all. He’ll be fine in a while.” “I’m okay. You don’t have to
make excuses for your father. He has no excuse for speaking to me that way.” “You should tell him that.” “Maybe, but to be honest I
hardly care anymore. I’m going to take Duchess for a walk up to the bluffs.”
vvv
Kenneth was draining his second glass of Glenfiddich when Ashley walked into his office. “Can I ask you a question?” “Shoot.” “Why do you talk to mom
like that?” “Talk to your mother like
what?” “Like such a jerk.” “You’re being disrespectful,
Ashley, and I don’t deserve that from you, so change your tune.” “To be honest, Daddy, after the way you talked to Mom,
Double Knotter
I’m already showing you more respect than you deserve.” “This is none of your
business. If your mother has a problem, she can talk to me about it.” “Yeah? Do you remember telling her to stop talking? It’s my business because this is my family. I told Mom she should talk to you and she said she doesn’t care anymore, and I’m starting to get that.”
Kenneth barked out Deborah’s name as Ashley walked out of the office. He repeated it several times with increasing insistency.
“She’s not here. She’s gone
for a walk,” said Ashley. “Where?” demanded
Kenneth “That’s probably none of
my business either.” “Well, it’s my business and I
want to know where she’s gone.” “Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it, and just so you know, I’m going out, too.” “Where are you off to?” “I don’t want to talk about
it, either.”
Kenneth watched her pedal down the driveway and out of sight. His calls for Christopher echoed through the empty house. Kenneth’s anger and indignation dwindled, and he started feeling sorry for himself. In all the tractor excitement, he’d missed breakfast. He heated the last of the left-over pancakes in the microwave
and carried them back to the office.
vvv Ashley was half way to
Fitzpatrick’s when her phone rang. “Hi, Grandma.” “Hi, Ashley. Do you have a minute to talk?” Ashley spent several
minutes telling her about Clay and about Kenneth’s sprained ankle before Susan cut to the chase. “How are things at home?” “Chris and I are good. Things with Mom and Daddy are kind of testy.” “I’m sorry to hear that,
sweetie. I’m calling about the holiday your mom and dad are taking while I stay with you on spring break.” “Have you talked to Daddy? I doubt if he’ll agree to go.” “How bad is his ankle?” “I think it’s as good or bad as he wants it to be. He was out driving his new tractor this morning.” “Leave your father to me.
We’ve agreed on this already. Do you think your mom will go?”
“I don’t know, Grandma. I
wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t. She can’t go until after the spring musical and that’s in two weeks.” Susan said she knew about the musical and the trip was booked to start the day after the Sunday finale. It was for 10 days and she would come a few days early so she could see them perform in Li’l Abner. She was looking
forward to spending some time alone with her grandchildren, she told Ashley, and meeting Clay, and what about Christopher: did he have a girlfriend yet? “Yeah, Lisa. She’s nice; you’ll
like her.” vvv Three minutes later,
Kenneth’s phone rang. “Hello, Mother. Is anything
wrong?” “I just called to talk about
my visit and your holiday.” “I think the holiday is
probably off. I guess you haven’t heard that I broke my leg.”
“I just heard about your sprained ankle from Ashley. She said you were out driving your new tractor with it this morning. I’m so pleased it’s healed so quickly. You do remember the agreement we made about this trip, don’t you?” “You mean how you’re
bribing me with my own inheritance?” “Call it what you like but if
it was your inheritance, how could I bribe you with it?” “Fine. I’ll go, but I can guarantee you won’t be able to get Deborah to sign on.” “Perhaps I won’t have to.
That’s really your concern, isn’t it?”
Kenneth leaned back and massaged his temples with his finger tips. He was already planning the unavoidable apology he would need to make if he had any hope at all, of convincing Deborah
they should go on a two-week holiday. It sounded like sheer hell. He fantasized briefly about spending a two-week holiday with Janice, then brought himself back to the task at hand. He had a lot of ground to make up and little time to do it in. Thanks to politics, he knew the roadmap by heart. Start with an admission of guilt, move on to remorse, make self- criticisms, apologize, offer excuses, make promises, and finally offer an act of atonement. Telling her to quit talking would be a brilliant staff to hang his guilt on, and two weeks in the Caribbean would be a masterful marriage of atonement and desired outcome all in one. It all unfolded seamlessly in
his head. He could run through all the steps in less than an hour but he knew full well that sincerity was the essential spice that could turn plain old hash into beef bourguignon. And sincerity was all about timing. He resolved to make it a
slow dance: to let each step marinate overnight in a potent elixir of heartfelt sincerity. He realized that this was just the sort of challenge his father would have envied. He felt his mood lighten. He celebrated with another Glenfiddich and convinced himself there was no good reason not to go back to the barn and put the Massey Ferguson 285 through its paces.
... To be continued
41
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