Gee Whiz (9 page)

We knew this story—what happened next was that Esau’s mother ran and got Jacob, her younger son, and had him kill a pair of goats, which Rebecca then cooked just the way Isaac liked them. She had Jacob take the dish of food to Isaac while wearing a piece of goatskin so that Isaac would touch him and think he was Esau, who was hairier than Jacob. When Isaac had eaten the food, he gave Jacob the blessing—that is, all of his things. Then Esau came back and found out that he was too late, and cried. I’d always thought this was a sad and confusing story, but after Brother Abner read his part, he paused a moment, and started laughing. Everyone smiled, the way you do when you are uncomfortable. Brother Abner finished
laughing, coughed, and said, “Now, we all know what happened. There was a big fight, and it lasted for years and for generations. That’s what happens when there is a big fight in the family—everything just feeds it, and pretty soon, no one knows why they’re mad, they are just mad. Well.” Now he shifted around in his chair, dropped his Bible, and reached down, very slowly, to pick it up again. I could see the sisters exchanging looks. He said, “What would have happened, I ask you, if Esau had done what old Isaac told him to do? If he’d taken his bow and his arrows and headed out into the wilderness, and made a new life for himself, instead of stewing and fussing? Or what if Jacob had stuck around, and had that fight with Esau, and taken his punishment and gotten it over with? What would have happened then? I tell you, everything seems important at the time, so important that you can’t stand it if you don’t do something, anything, to show how angry you are, how insulted you are. But then you get to be an old man, and you can’t remember for the life of you what you were so mad about. An insult isn’t an insult, you ask me now, it’s just something that happens, most likely pretty funny, if you think about it.” And then he got a little breathless, and sighed, and stopped talking. After another long pause, Brother Brooks stood up and read his passage, which was about Paul’s epistle to the Romans.

It turned out that part of Brother Abner’s problem was that the Studebaker wouldn’t start, so Sister Larrabee had picked him up and brought him, and would take him home. She said to Mom, “Of course I don’t mind doing that, and I told him that we’ll go over to the Safeway and get a few things
before we head out this afternoon, but really, I don’t know what else to do. I did ask him on the way over here if he’d like a ride anywhere this week. Sister Larkin is happy to take him out, too, but he just waved me away.”

Mom said, “Has anyone ever just dropped by there, just a friendly visit?”

“Oh, goodness, he knows none of us live in his neighborhood. He’s pretty out of the way.”

This year, Christmas would come on a Sunday. Our Christmas service the evening before would be by candlelight, and then we would have some Christmas food, like fruitcake and pumpkin pie. No presents, because some of the brothers and sisters were too poor to buy presents, so everyone else having presents would be embarrassing. I said, “At least, he won’t be alone for Christmas.”

“No, he won’t,” said Sister Larrabee, “and that’s a blessing.”

Mom said, “It’s supposed to be so cold this week.”

“I think I can spy a little bit on his wood supply. If it’s low, I think I can mention that.”

Mom nodded.

What Dad wanted to talk about on the way home was Esau and Jacob. He said, “Well, I’ve been thinking about that chapter of Genesis all day now. It’s confusing. Of course, it doesn’t apply to us, but it’s funny that he happened on that one.”

I said, “Who does it apply to?”

“Well, that’s the biblical story of the Jews. The Jews all descended from Jacob, and the Gentiles all descended from
Esau. When Jesus came along, then a person could choose to follow the Lord of his free will, and it didn’t matter about where you were born or who bore you. But I do remember, as a boy, just asking my dad over and over how it was that Jacob got away with it. To my mind, if he’d been in our family, he’d have gotten a whipping for sure. Finally, I was told that Jacob didn’t really get away with it, since he had to run away to Laban’s house. The important thing was that Isaac couldn’t change his mind once he’d given his blessing. My dad said, ‘There’s the lesson in it for you—what’s done is done, and you’ve got to make the best of it.’ I think that’s an important lesson, though whether Jacob and Esau made the best of it is a good question.”

Mom said, “Well, it helps us to contemplate—”

“Our sins,” said Dad. “Yes, that’s true.”

Mom said, “I was going to say our mistakes.”

Dad said, “Looks like I have another one to contemplate.”

Mom laughed, then said, “Not a very big one.”

Monday, I woke up really happy, because Barbie was planning to come for a lesson in the afternoon. I didn’t mind at all that even though it was still sunny and a little warm, you could see in the west that the clouds were building and the rain would be coming in. I didn’t care that there would be three days, maybe, of cleaning tack and emptying old trunks and closets and saying, “Oh, I wondered where that bit had gotten to” and “I guess it’s time to wash all the saddle blankets,” because school was out and the Goldmans were home and Barbie had called me Saturday afternoon, and told me all about their
concert, which had gone very well—another pair of students had sung a duet while Barbie and Alexis played violin and piano. I was sure that it had been beautiful and wished I’d seen it. She was due at three. I had no idea how her riding would be, so just to be safe, I tacked up Blue and rode him for half an hour before she got there. When she arrived, she was just herself—smiling and ready. We hugged for a long moment and then she hugged Blue. Her hair looked fine.

She was noticeably more skilled than she had been in the summer. Things I had once had to remind her of, like sitting up straight and keeping a loose back, and making sure that her heels were down but easily down rather than pushed down, were automatic for her now. She never even touched the horn of the saddle, and she sat the trot pretty well, though not perfectly.

I said, “Tell me again how often you rode Tooter?”

“Well, Tooter told me confidentially that four days a week was his preferred number, but I only managed three. He was nice about it, though.”

“What about Alexis?”

“I have to say that Alexis got a lot of strange headaches when the time came to ride.”

“Was she scared?”

Barbie asked Blue to halt in front of me, rested her arm on the horn of the saddle, and said, “I think she was, but she’d never tell me that. She’s supposed to be the brave one. You and Blue should give her a lesson.”

“If she asks, I will.”

“May I canter again?”

“Of course.”

“May I just canter around and around for the rest of the day?”

“His canter makes you want to.”

“What I want to do is go for a trail ride, with a cantering part.”

“We’d have to do that up on the Jordan Ranch.”

“Could we?”

“If it’s not too rainy. I haven’t been up there for a couple of months.”

She turned Blue away, went out to the rail, and cantered to the right. She sat easily, and Blue went at a smooth lope, his head up, his ears forward, and his back relaxed. It was hypnotizing. As they went past the far end of the arena, I could see Gee Whiz on the other side of the pasture fence, watching them. Each time they passed that way (they made four circuits), he snorted lightly and tossed his head. After the fourth time, he spun away and trotted off. He had a big, ground-eating trot, not loose but bold and proud. Blue, thankfully, either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Barbie brought him down to a walk and sighed.

She’d been cooling him out for about ten minutes when the rain started, first a foggy mist, then real drops. I wanted to get my saddle under cover, so I opened the gate, and we headed for the barn. By the time we got there—only a couple of minutes—it was actually pouring, and all three of us, Barbie, Blue, and myself, ended up kind of soaked. I was so busy trying to get under cover that I didn’t notice Jerry Gardino’s truck, but Beebop was cross-tied on the wash rack. Jerry was
bending over, picking Beebop’s right front hoof. He must have been cleaning him up for a while, because the horse’s mane was smooth and his coat was shining. Beebop nickered when Blue came into the barn. Jerry stood up. He of course was smiling his big smile. He said, “Oh, hello!”

I said, “Barbie Goldman, this is Jerry Gardino, and this is Beebop, the wildest horse you’ve ever met.”

Jerry said, “It’s just a job for Beebop, not a way of life.”

I said, “He’s a bucking bronc in the rodeo. Jerry is his owner.”

Barbie said, “Do you ride him?”

“God, no,” said Jerry. “Dan said we might ride this afternoon. He was going to lend me Lady, I think it was, but it doesn’t look as though that’s in the cards.” Outside, the rain was now falling in streams.

I said, “You’ll have to cook something instead.”

“What, though? I don’t think the cannelloni went over very big.”

“Oh, I love cannelloni,” said Barbie. “Mushroom and ricotta. That’s my favorite.”

“I can do that,” said Jerry.

I said, “Maybe it didn’t look as though we liked it at dinner, but we polished off the leftovers. Mom and Dad kind of argued over who was going to get the last piece.”

Jerry laughed, then he said, “Well, it came up that I might cook one last thing before vacation. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to check on Beebop and clean him up a little, but I do think I mentioned something about veal piccata.”

“Mmm,” said Barbie.

I said, “You want to stay for supper?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have to call home?”

“I do.”

Jerry said, “Where do you live? I can give you a ride home after dinner. I’m heading straight up to the city.”

I thought that Jerry Gardino and the Goldmans would get along perfectly, and probably they could compare recipes for hours. I said, “You can meet Alexis. She’s Barbie’s twin. Barbie plays the piano and Alexis plays the violin.”

“Oh, really?” said Jerry. “I spent years playing the trombone in our school orchestra.”

I said, “Was that fun?”

“It’s fun until you lose count while you’re sitting there waiting to come in. The guy who sat next to me fell asleep once.”

Veal piccata turned out to have not only veal in it, but olive oil, lemon juice, butter, and parsley. Jerry spread his ingredients over every part of the counter, and made a terrible mess, but Barbie cleaned up after him, and so by the time we sat down, the kitchen looked fine. Mom thanked her, and she said, “It’s just like when my mom cooks. I don’t know what she’s done without me all fall.”

Dad bowed his head, closed his eyes, and said, “Let us give thanks. Our heavenly Father, we give thanks for the bounty we are about to partake of and the friends that have joined us this evening. Amen.” I didn’t close my eyes—I was too interested in what Barbie, Jerry, and Danny would do. Danny bowed his head but kept his hands in his lap, Jerry closed his
eyes but didn’t bow his head, and Barbie stared at Dad. She looked away before he opened his eyes.

As soon as Dad reached for the serving fork, Jerry laughed and said, “My dad always told us that when he was growing up, there was never enough money for eight whole chops, so when they said grace, they always finished with, ‘In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, the guy that eats the fastest gets the most.’ But really, the guy who stuck his fork in there first always got someone else’s fork in the back of his hand.” He laughed, Barbie laughed, Mom said, “My goodness,” and Dad smiled but looked uncomfortable.

Danny said, “How many brothers were there?”

“Six. One a year, until my grandmother said she was tying the door to her bedroom shut, because she didn’t have a key to the lock.”

I realized that Jerry Gardino was a lot like Beebop—ready for anything. The veal was good, and the noodles were good, and Dad took the second-biggest helping, after Danny, but what was really interesting was that I don’t think Mom and Dad had ever been outnumbered by kids at the dinner table before. Jerry, Danny, and Barbie chatted on and on about Bob Dylan and something called the Monterey Pop Festival, which was coming up, and had we ever been to the Monterey Jazz Festival? Both Barbie and Jerry loved that and had been twice—Jerry had seen Duke Ellington and Barbie had seen Big Mama Thornton. (I looked around the table—Danny had at least heard of the festival, and maybe Leah had taken him? Mom and Dad looked politely blank.) Jerry was a big fan of Pete Seeger, but Barbie preferred a new group called Jefferson
Airplane, from up in San Francisco, and Jerry said, yes, they had just gotten Grace Slick to sing with them, someone he knew knew her, she had been singing with the Great Society—everyone in that group was related to one another. What was going on in LA?

“As if I know,” said Barbie. “We only communicate with downtown by means of smoke signals. But everyone at school has a copy of
Pet Sounds
.”

Jerry said, “I didn’t like that at first.”

Danny said, “I did.”

Dad got up and carried his plate to the sink.

Then Barbie turned to Danny and said, “Say, Leah told me yesterday that you got your draft notice.”

And Danny said, smooth as pie, “Well, I did. Physical in two weeks—like January fourth, I think.” He did not look at Mom or Dad, but I did. Dad, who was rinsing his plate, stiffened, and Mom took a deep breath.

Barbie said, “You could go to Canada. We know a guy who did that. My dad …”

And then she looked around and stopped talking.

There was a long silence, and then Jerry said, “Did you ever read
On the Road
? I loved that book. I’ve been reading
Big Sur
. I know where that cabin is. I’d like to drive down there sometime.”

But now Barbie was more alert, and she said, “I think my mom read that.”

Danny said, “I was going to tell you, Mom. I don’t think it’s a big—”

Mom got up and walked out of the room.

Normally, it was Dad who got upset about things, but now he said, “It had to happen. I don’t think your mom is willing to accept that, but this comes as no surprise to me. It was just a matter of time.”