LADY CLAUDIA: Thou Man of Blood (XI)
LADY Claudia picks the little basket up from the table.
She walks to the door to the dining room. She opens it. She enters the dining room. She closes the door behind her. She turns into the hallway and walks down it. She goes into the Tavern. The lights are on. It is empty.
She turns around and walks back into the hallway. She opens the door to the parlor and goes in.
Floyd is sitting on the south sofa. His posture is odd. Usually he would be sprawled out in some way. Maybe with his legs up on the coffee table and his hands clasped behind his head. Tonight he is sitting straight up. His hands are folded in his lap. He looks like a schoolboy waiting outside the principal's office.
"There you are," Lady Claudia says.
Floyd looks up at her.
"It was getting cold in there. I have this baby roaring away now. Let's sit up for a while in here tonight."
Lady Claudia sets the basket on the coffee table.
"All right. I'll get something to read."
She turns.
"No," Floyd says.
She stops.
"That's okay. I'd rather talk. Just talk. I'd like to look at you while you talk about nothing but sweet little nothings."
She cocks her head and smiles. She walks over to the north sofa and sits down.
"Well, to begin with, that's our Easter gift from June and Hannah."
"Cute."
"Wilma loved the jasmine plant. She thought it was lilacs."
"Lilacs. Sticking out of dirt in a pot."
"Horticulture is not Wilma's strong suit."
"Wilma's a peach, though. And the best seamstress in Camel Creek."
"Wilma is a dear. One of my very favorite wedding gifts was that beautiful violet and white quilt she made."
"Don't recall it."
"I keep it in the chest in the West Bedroom. I'll show it to you tomorrow."
"Are you warm enough?"
"Toasty."
"When I was a lonely bachelor the rule was that the stoves went cold from April first until October fifteenth."
"Oh, dear. It's a mercy you didn't catch pneumonia."
"It was dumb. Arbitrary. It gets pretty cold in April and October. Just a few nights ago it was snowing. Remember?"
She pauses.
"Yes, dear. I remember."
A pause.
"Ophelia gave Walt a nasty kick in the shins before when he was changing her hay. Persnickitty chased a mouse right under her and she got spooked."
"Good heavens. But he was all right?"
"Just a bruise. Nothing broken. Walt forgets what I tell him sometimes. Don't stand right behind a horse if you don't have to. But he's learning. He'll make out fine as a farmer. That's what he really wants."
"I'm sure he'll do splendidly."
"It will be time to send him packing soon. This is no place for a boy who wants to really make it as a farmer in modern times. This would be good training if he wants to be Old, Old, Old MacDonald in the historical tableaux at the Bisbee Township Fair and say, 'By crickety, back in the good old days we milked by candlelight. Now they've got them there new-fangled kerosene lanterns...'"
Lady Claudia laughs.
"But darling. When it comes to some aspects of agriculture your ideas are newer than new."
"I suppose so. I don't want to see him go. I really don't want anything to change. I feel that I'm set for life here, Coffee Queen. That's very unrealistic, I know. But I'm happy here at our funny old homestead. With good old Huldah coming in every morning except Sunday, and our livestock and gardens and cornfields and bees... Castle and Wilma right around the corner... And... And... And..."
"And Old Charlie to beat you all at poker every other Saturday night."
"Right. And that. No, no, no. That's not it. That's not it at tall. It's right now- Jesus!"
Someone has used the knocker on the front door.
Floyd immediately puts his hand over his mouth. He quickly takes it away.
"May the Most Holy Name of Jesus be adored and praised on earth and in heaven now and forever."
"That's much better, dear."
Floyd jumps up.
"Who the-"
He opens the parlor door, strides into the hallway, draws back the bolt, and opens the door.
"Willy," he says.
Lady Claudia has walked over to the doorway. Wilbur Knapp resembles Lester Knapp. He is shorter. Lester had thick dark brown hair. Wilbur has light brown hair and it is thinning on top.
"Please come in," Floyd says.
Wilbur steps in. He is smiling. He glances at Lady Claudia.
"Claudia," he says.
"Wilbur. Please come right into the parlor and have a seat."
Wilbur looks at Floyd.
"Sure, buddy. Come on in."
"Don't mind if I do. No."
He stops short. He turns around and looks at Floyd.
"I'm here on an errand, Floyd. I'd like for you and me to have our own little chat in there. It was just hi and bye this afternoon. But I want to get this other business out of the way out here right now."
"Sure."
Wilbur reaches into the inside pocket of his coat. He takes out an envelope. He hands it to Floyd.
"My father called from Rochester. Apparently Rochester is where you go when you don't go to your own son's funeral and leave your wife to handle everything alone. He said that I absolutely had to deliver this to you tonight. You know my old man. What I wanted to say to him. But I knew that it would only make things worse for my Mom in the long run. So I said, 'Sure, Dad. Whatever you say. Enjoy the rest of your vacation.' That's a check for fifty dollars, Floyd."
Floyd looks as though he has been punched in the stomach.
"Oh," he says.
He instinctively turns sideways as though he might be contemplating trying to sneak away unnoticed. He takes a few steps backward.
"Oh, Will. Holy-... Will."
"That's payment in full for my brother Lester's grave in Gate of Heaven Cemetery."
"No, sir," Floyd says, growing more agitated with every word, shaking his head. "No, sir.That's not the way things are."
Lady Claudia steps up. She takes the envelope.
"Our dear Lester was very patriotic," she says rather loudly, her voice trembling with anxiety, her forced air of bright ingenuity falling flat. "This could go to decorating the graves of the forgotten veterans on Decoration Day."
"That's right," Wilbur says. "Oddly enough for a guy like that, Les was quite the flag waver. I guess you two have occasion to recall that every minute of every day."
"Thank you, Will," Lady Claudia says abruptly. "Now please do go in."
Floyd seems to have recovered. He steps forward. Wilbur steps into the parlor. Lady Claudia steps backwards. Floyd grabs her hand and pulls her into the parlor with him.
*
"... And we hope that he'll go on to Onatonga State," Wilbur is saying. "He's a whiz at math. He could make a good living as an accountant. He's a great kid all around."
He is sitting on the north sofa, Floyd and Lady Claudia on the south.
"I hope that we'll get to see more of Tommy some day," Lady Claudia says.
"Here in Camel Creek?" Wilbur asks. "You might. This summer. He might spend a couple of weeks with the folks."
"That would be lovely," Lady Claudia says. "Will, are you sure you won't have some coffee or tea?"
Wilbur glances at Floyd, who had been staring at him glumly. Floyd's expression softens.
"Have a cup of something, Will," Floyd says. "Stay a while."
"No. No. I need to get back to my Mom. Jennie and she aren't that close, you see."
"Ah," Lady Claudia says.
"I just want to tell a story about Lester. One for the road. It's a funny kind of story. The Farmer Thompson story. You remember, Floyd."
"Sure. I remember."
"It's all about Lester's sketchy but strict sense of morality. There was a reason why Mom adored him and Father... Well, why Father just loved him. The Good Book took a lot of abuse from Lester Knapp. Everyone in these parts knows that. Everyone who read the letters to the editor in The Onatonga Star during the past ten years. But somewhere in that Book there must be a page old Les was on right alongside them. And you, Floyd. Do you know what I mean?"
"I know exactly what you mean."
"Okay, then. Let me tell my story. It's a big deal for you too, Floyd. It has to do with Lester and his little peculiarities when it came to guns..."
She walks to the door to the dining room. She opens it. She enters the dining room. She closes the door behind her. She turns into the hallway and walks down it. She goes into the Tavern. The lights are on. It is empty.
She turns around and walks back into the hallway. She opens the door to the parlor and goes in.
Floyd is sitting on the south sofa. His posture is odd. Usually he would be sprawled out in some way. Maybe with his legs up on the coffee table and his hands clasped behind his head. Tonight he is sitting straight up. His hands are folded in his lap. He looks like a schoolboy waiting outside the principal's office.
"There you are," Lady Claudia says.
Floyd looks up at her.
"It was getting cold in there. I have this baby roaring away now. Let's sit up for a while in here tonight."
Lady Claudia sets the basket on the coffee table.
"All right. I'll get something to read."
She turns.
"No," Floyd says.
She stops.
"That's okay. I'd rather talk. Just talk. I'd like to look at you while you talk about nothing but sweet little nothings."
She cocks her head and smiles. She walks over to the north sofa and sits down.
"Well, to begin with, that's our Easter gift from June and Hannah."
"Cute."
"Wilma loved the jasmine plant. She thought it was lilacs."
"Lilacs. Sticking out of dirt in a pot."
"Horticulture is not Wilma's strong suit."
"Wilma's a peach, though. And the best seamstress in Camel Creek."
"Wilma is a dear. One of my very favorite wedding gifts was that beautiful violet and white quilt she made."
"Don't recall it."
"I keep it in the chest in the West Bedroom. I'll show it to you tomorrow."
"Are you warm enough?"
"Toasty."
"When I was a lonely bachelor the rule was that the stoves went cold from April first until October fifteenth."
"Oh, dear. It's a mercy you didn't catch pneumonia."
"It was dumb. Arbitrary. It gets pretty cold in April and October. Just a few nights ago it was snowing. Remember?"
She pauses.
"Yes, dear. I remember."
A pause.
"Ophelia gave Walt a nasty kick in the shins before when he was changing her hay. Persnickitty chased a mouse right under her and she got spooked."
"Good heavens. But he was all right?"
"Just a bruise. Nothing broken. Walt forgets what I tell him sometimes. Don't stand right behind a horse if you don't have to. But he's learning. He'll make out fine as a farmer. That's what he really wants."
"I'm sure he'll do splendidly."
"It will be time to send him packing soon. This is no place for a boy who wants to really make it as a farmer in modern times. This would be good training if he wants to be Old, Old, Old MacDonald in the historical tableaux at the Bisbee Township Fair and say, 'By crickety, back in the good old days we milked by candlelight. Now they've got them there new-fangled kerosene lanterns...'"
Lady Claudia laughs.
"But darling. When it comes to some aspects of agriculture your ideas are newer than new."
"I suppose so. I don't want to see him go. I really don't want anything to change. I feel that I'm set for life here, Coffee Queen. That's very unrealistic, I know. But I'm happy here at our funny old homestead. With good old Huldah coming in every morning except Sunday, and our livestock and gardens and cornfields and bees... Castle and Wilma right around the corner... And... And... And..."
"And Old Charlie to beat you all at poker every other Saturday night."
"Right. And that. No, no, no. That's not it. That's not it at tall. It's right now- Jesus!"
Someone has used the knocker on the front door.
Floyd immediately puts his hand over his mouth. He quickly takes it away.
"May the Most Holy Name of Jesus be adored and praised on earth and in heaven now and forever."
"That's much better, dear."
Floyd jumps up.
"Who the-"
He opens the parlor door, strides into the hallway, draws back the bolt, and opens the door.
"Willy," he says.
Lady Claudia has walked over to the doorway. Wilbur Knapp resembles Lester Knapp. He is shorter. Lester had thick dark brown hair. Wilbur has light brown hair and it is thinning on top.
"Please come in," Floyd says.
Wilbur steps in. He is smiling. He glances at Lady Claudia.
"Claudia," he says.
"Wilbur. Please come right into the parlor and have a seat."
Wilbur looks at Floyd.
"Sure, buddy. Come on in."
"Don't mind if I do. No."
He stops short. He turns around and looks at Floyd.
"I'm here on an errand, Floyd. I'd like for you and me to have our own little chat in there. It was just hi and bye this afternoon. But I want to get this other business out of the way out here right now."
"Sure."
Wilbur reaches into the inside pocket of his coat. He takes out an envelope. He hands it to Floyd.
"My father called from Rochester. Apparently Rochester is where you go when you don't go to your own son's funeral and leave your wife to handle everything alone. He said that I absolutely had to deliver this to you tonight. You know my old man. What I wanted to say to him. But I knew that it would only make things worse for my Mom in the long run. So I said, 'Sure, Dad. Whatever you say. Enjoy the rest of your vacation.' That's a check for fifty dollars, Floyd."
Floyd looks as though he has been punched in the stomach.
"Oh," he says.
He instinctively turns sideways as though he might be contemplating trying to sneak away unnoticed. He takes a few steps backward.
"Oh, Will. Holy-... Will."
"That's payment in full for my brother Lester's grave in Gate of Heaven Cemetery."
"No, sir," Floyd says, growing more agitated with every word, shaking his head. "No, sir.That's not the way things are."
Lady Claudia steps up. She takes the envelope.
"Our dear Lester was very patriotic," she says rather loudly, her voice trembling with anxiety, her forced air of bright ingenuity falling flat. "This could go to decorating the graves of the forgotten veterans on Decoration Day."
"That's right," Wilbur says. "Oddly enough for a guy like that, Les was quite the flag waver. I guess you two have occasion to recall that every minute of every day."
"Thank you, Will," Lady Claudia says abruptly. "Now please do go in."
Floyd seems to have recovered. He steps forward. Wilbur steps into the parlor. Lady Claudia steps backwards. Floyd grabs her hand and pulls her into the parlor with him.
*
"... And we hope that he'll go on to Onatonga State," Wilbur is saying. "He's a whiz at math. He could make a good living as an accountant. He's a great kid all around."
He is sitting on the north sofa, Floyd and Lady Claudia on the south.
"I hope that we'll get to see more of Tommy some day," Lady Claudia says.
"Here in Camel Creek?" Wilbur asks. "You might. This summer. He might spend a couple of weeks with the folks."
"That would be lovely," Lady Claudia says. "Will, are you sure you won't have some coffee or tea?"
Wilbur glances at Floyd, who had been staring at him glumly. Floyd's expression softens.
"Have a cup of something, Will," Floyd says. "Stay a while."
"No. No. I need to get back to my Mom. Jennie and she aren't that close, you see."
"Ah," Lady Claudia says.
"I just want to tell a story about Lester. One for the road. It's a funny kind of story. The Farmer Thompson story. You remember, Floyd."
"Sure. I remember."
"It's all about Lester's sketchy but strict sense of morality. There was a reason why Mom adored him and Father... Well, why Father just loved him. The Good Book took a lot of abuse from Lester Knapp. Everyone in these parts knows that. Everyone who read the letters to the editor in The Onatonga Star during the past ten years. But somewhere in that Book there must be a page old Les was on right alongside them. And you, Floyd. Do you know what I mean?"
"I know exactly what you mean."
"Okay, then. Let me tell my story. It's a big deal for you too, Floyd. It has to do with Lester and his little peculiarities when it came to guns..."
posted by Unknown at 9:11 PM
5 Comments:
Floyd is quite an interesting character. I never realized it until this story. I know he's not the main character, but he seems to be the most complexly (is that a word?) written character.
That's because he's a NUT!
That reply really gave me a chuckle. I have been using that line a lot lately. In fact I used it with Beverly today as she was telling me about one of her crazy in-laws. Beverly, btw, wanted you address at that place you are staying, but I am not sure how long you will be there. Do you know the address?
Don't know the address- will be home soon. Thanks.
This comment has been removed by the author.
Post a Comment
<< Home