Chapter 5: You Would Know Me As...

The Present

Late spring was often a great time for just sitting around on the front porch with friends.

If the weather’s right, a warm breeze can cause the memory of snow and cold that ruled the valley just a few weeks before to quickly fade. In a typical town, flowers would be pushing up from the newly thawed ground ready to burst into color, but this was Owens Farm and color and flowers were generally frowned on by the residents.

For Mary, it was nice to see the trees regaining the canopy of green, stripped in the long winter.

“So, you going” Ben asked Mary as they sat on Ben’s porch after school.

Mary, thumbing through the day’s homework, was a little stunned by Ben’s question.

“Of course I’m going, I like Mr. Carlyle and of course, he’s the most interesting person in town”, she said.

“Oh, more interesting than me”, asked Ben jokingly.

“Of course far more interesting”, said Mary continuing the gentle ribbing. “Besides“, she said more matter-of-factly now, “My parents are some of the few folks in town who like Mr. Carlyle. They think it will be a good place to practice my social skills, good place for you too BD. After all, we are growing up”.

“Don’t remind me, I’ve got more homework and less time than ever”, replied Ben.

“Ben”, asked Mary changing the subject, “didn’t you find it rather odd, this whole Student Advisory thing? Nobody in school talked of it, but I guess that means they’d have to care about something. But this council thing, first it’s on. Then it’s off, in just the blink of an eye”

“That’s not the only thing that happened in the blink of an eye”, said Ben. “Mr. Carlyle acted rather strange that day. Somehow I lost track of him. First he’s behind me on the walk and then there he is in the doorway of the school. I just don’t see how I missed it”.

“Oh you were probably fixing your tie, wanting to look all perfect, just perfect”, said Mary with large joking smile on here face, “probably looking at your face in the shine on your shoes and Mr. Carlyle just passed right by you”.

“Enough Mary, Luke makes fun of me enough, I don’t need you joining his chorus”, laughed Ben.

“Oh Luke hasn’t bothered you in a few days Ben”, said Mary. “My dad says that Mr. Nelson decided to let Luke spend a few days in Officer Vache’s jail cell before getting him out. Dad says that it will teach him a lesson”.

“Yeah, well my dad says that it’s just Red Nelson’s way of not having to feed Luke for a few days. His was of saving a few bucks”, said Ben. “I hear that Officer Vache called Mr. Nelson the last two nights trying to get him to come and get Luke out”.

Behind Mary and Ben, the screen door creaked open. Leaning out Ben’s mother said, “Just about dinner time Ben. Mary, are you staying? It’s meatloaf and potatoes today and you are more than welcome”.

“No thanks Mr. Dover, my mom’s expecting me home soon”, said Mary as she collected her school things and started down the front steps. Turning she said, “Ben, be sure to stop by on you way to Mr. Carlyle’s on Saturday, we can walk there together”.

“No problem”, said Ben as he closed the screen door behind him and smelt the delicious odors coming seductively from his mom’s kitchen.

In the kitchen, Eleanor Dover said to her son, “Ben, you should have fun over at Mr. Carlyle’s on Saturday. I’m starting to find him fascinating, the colors and all.”

The turning to get the meatloaf out of the oven Eleanor Dover said, “If fact, I’m thinking of painting our house, something other than brown or gray. Perhaps a blue or red?”

Ben slumped in the chair at the dining room table. “Great”, he thought, “now my whole family will be hated in this dull grey town”.

# # #

Saturday afternoon and Ben was on his way to get Mary for their dinner party with Mr. Carlyle. Walking up her porch, Ben rang the door bell ad waited.

“She sure is pretty”, Ben thought for a second and then shuddered. He had never though of Mary that way before and it startled him. Still slightly confused, the door opened and there Mary stood. “Yes”, Ben thought, “She sure is pretty”.

“Ready to go BD”, said Mary. “Bye mom and we won’t be late”. With that Mary bounded out of the door, took Ben’s hand, much to the surprise of Ben, and proceeded down the street toward Mr. Carlyle’s house.

Sitting on the porch in a floral print rocking chair, was Mr. Carlyle. Seeing the Ben and Mary approaching, he pulled a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and appeared to wipe something from his eyes.

“BD”, said Mary as they walked up to the house, “It sure looked like Mr. Carlyle was crying. I would say he just wiped away a tear.”

“How very like a girl”, joked Ben, “seeing emotions everywhere”.

Mary pulled her hand from Ben’s and turned to face him. “BD, I swear that sometimes just when I think you’re growing up, you become a child again” and Mary folded her arms and marched up the street to Mr. Carlyle’s house.

Ben followed closely behind, “Come on Mary, I was just joking…. Didn’t mean it… please Mary… come on”.

By now Ben and Mary were on the front walk to Mr. Carlyle’s porch where Mr. Carlyle stood and welcomed the two into his house. “I’m going to throw some steaks on the barbeque, baked potatoes too. I do hope you like steak. Old recipe given to me out West many years ago”, said Mr. Carlyle. “Go and grab yourselves a drink from the fridge, there’s several kinds of sodas in there. Go on, grab one and meet me out back”.

With that, Mr. Carlyle went outside to start the grille. Handing Mary a ginger ale, Ben said, “I sure do like him, Mary and have you noticed that things in Owens Farm seem to be brightening up just a bit? Even my parents are talking about colors, granted it was a debate between off-white or egg shell for the front room but that was more than they ever did before.”

“I think your a little optimistic BD”, said Mary. “Let’s face it, the only color around is in and on this house where we now stand. The rest of the town hasn’t changed. Why that can of yellow paint out on the porch is probably the only paint in this town that is not black, brown or some shade of gray”.

“…and soon to be off white”, grinned Ben.

Coming in from the Barbeque, Mr. Carlyle said, “Folks, looks like rain, I think its best we stay inside to eat and I’ll just do the cooking outside. Let’s go into the salon and have a seat.”

Settling into a brightly colored and overstuffed couches and chairs the three friends proceeded to chat and tell tales of their recent times in Owens Farm. Ben was starting to tell Mary about the puzzling incident outside the school just a few days earlier when Mr. Carlyle piped up, “I love chatting with you two about school and such, you know I never had a formal schooling, but I’ve got to go and tend to our dinner, just make you self at home” and Mr. Carlyle as he left the room for the back porch

“I just love this house”, said Mary, “Bright, cheerful, it just makes me feel good”. She leaned back, put her feet up on ottoman and looked very content and almost at home.

Ben though was growing more interest in the artifact and collections lining the walls. Picking up pieces and closely examining them only made his natural curiosity want to learn more. Various paintings, primitive masks and odd clay tablets pressed with strange shapes were placed throughout the room.

“These look very old Mary. Mr. Carlyle must have done nothing but go to distant far off places his whole life”, said Ben as he turned over in his hands a small carving of a gargoyle.

“BD, sit down before you break something”, said Mary as she straightened what appeared to be a photo album left on the table in front of her.

“Hey Mr. Carlyle won’t mind, he always shared things with us before and besides, what did he just say to us? Make yourselves at home, that’s what he said”, said Ben as he was now jiggling doorknobs and making his way around the salon.

“People say that just to be nice, they don’t really mean it, “said Mary who had now risen to her feet and was behind Ben. “Ben, stop poking around”.

Reaching a door in the hallway, Ben reached down and jiggled the door know. “Wonder what this room looks like”, said Ben. Opening the door, Ben peered into the darkness behind. “Looks like the stairway to the basement”, said Ben as he felt along the walls for the light switch.

“Okay, now you’ve gone too far”, complained Mary, as she grabbed Ben’s arm and pulled him back from the dark basement stairs. Resisting her pull, Ben leaned forward. “Let go Mary, just think what’s down there”, said Ben tersely.

Now using both arms and all her strength, Mary grabbed Ben and pulled back. “Do not go down there”, she struggle to say while straining against Ben.

At that moment, Ben realized that he had indeed gone too far and gotten too nosy. Without thinking, he let go of the basement stair railing just as Mary was giving one last pull with all her strength.

Tumbling backward, Mary and Ben knocked over a table dumping its contents with a loud, large crash. Mr. Carlyle ran from the back porch to the hallway and found Mary and Ben tangled on the floor amid broken statues, picture frames and other paraphernalia. Slowly his glance turned to the still open basement door.

“Did you go done there”, he yelled with an anger seeming to shake the walls of the house. Never before had Mary or Ben seen this side of Mr. Carlysle. “What did you see? What did you do”, and he took a rather threatening step toward the two still on the floor.

Ben, terrified of the looming figure of Mr. Carlyle, instinctively tried to shield Mary. Mary though would have no part of his protection and rose quickly to her feet. “We… we.. didn’t… go… er… see.. er…”, she stuttered.

“I offer you hospitality and you sneak through doors where you have no business”, continued an angry Mr. Carlyle, who now seemed to loom above them large and formidable. At least this was how Ben saw it from the mess in the hallway that still entangled his arms and legs.

“Sir, Mary did nothing. It was me. She tried to stop me but I became too caught up in the collections you have in this house”, said a very contrite Ben who by now had untangled himself and was now standing up next to Mary.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Mr. Dover. I trust you know that phrase”, said the irate Mr. Carlyle. “Get out. Leave now. I thought I could trust you. I was wrong”. With that Mr. Carlyle turned away from Ben and Mary, his head slumped low as he leaned against the corridor wall. No longer large and threatening, Ben saw him now as a rather sad, depressed elderly gentleman.

“Let’s go”, whispered Mary to Ben, as she took his arm and turned toward the front door. Ben knew that this was a good time for them to leave the house. Together they walked as silently as possible down the corridor and opened the door to leave. Ben slowly glanced over his shoulder to see if Mr. Carlyle was perhaps following after them.

At the first creak of the front door starting to open, Mr. Carlyle turned and said, “Wait, I had no right to act that way toward you two. I was wrong, please stay.” And he broke down in tears. Dropping to his knees and sobbing, he groped through his pockets for a handkerchief.

Mary returned to his side, wrapped her arms around him and tried to comfort the visibly upset Mr. Carlyle. Helping him rise to his feet, they walked back into the salon. Mary and Mr. Carlyle sat on the couch. Ben at first confused by the events closed the front door and joined them, sitting in the chair in the corner.

Whispering in a voice almost too quiet to hear Mr. Carlyle said, “I am too weary, tired of this life I have led. My wife, my children and even my children’s children one hundred times are gone and gone for many years”.

Using the sleeve of his coat to wipe away tears, Mr. Carlyle continued, “I have only married once but I have made a hundred friends only to leave them when my time was done. I have searched for descendants, but only find my lineage blurred by the passage of time. I am alone”.

Ben leaning forward in the chair, listening intently but still wary of Mr. Carlyle’s strange actions said, “You have no family, no one left”?

“Correct Ben”, said Mr. Carlyle, “I have lived too long, outliving those I cared about. This town was to be my final stop, the place to end my travels. Too make my final plans”.

“You must have traveled everywhere to collect all the things we see”, said Mary. “Most of this looks very exotic, valuable. But why didn’t your family travel with you?”

“Oh that is a long story, but perhaps now at the end of my years, it is time to tell”, said Mr. Carlyle. Rising from the couch, Mr. Carlyle opened a closet door, reached in and selected a long velvet wrapped package. Then turning toward Mary and Ben, he unwrapped the package exposing a long sword. Mary cringed and sunk as deep as she could into the couch, thinking that Mr. Carlyle could still be angry about Ben’s attempted visit to the basement.

Mr. Carlyle laughed, “Don’t worry Mary, I’m not going to harm you, relax. Ben, you said you were fascinated with my collection, well this sword is Greek, well older than Greek actually. It would really be dated to the Mycenaean period. In rather good condition don’t you think”? Mr. Carlyle handed the sword to Ben.

Ben rose and took the sword, awkwardly holding it trying not to offend Mr. Carlyle or break any more things.

“Perfect balance, perfect craftsmanship, don’t you think”, said Mr. Carlyle. “Notice that there are no ornate etchings on the shaft or hilt. That is the sword of a true warrior”.

“Uh, I don’t really know… I guess so Mr. Carlyle”, stuttered Ben now relaxing a bit and gently moving the sword back and forth.

Mr. Carlyle smiled, “What if I told you that this sword belonged to Ajax and before him, Hector wielded it in battle. It looks in perfect shape, doesn’t it?”

Mary said nothing. Ben too stopped swaying the sword and was now again growing suspicious of Mr. Carlyle.

“Well, I’m not surprised at the looks on your faces. They barely teach American history anymore in school so there’s no way classic history is taught”, said a smiling Mr. Carlyle, “well anyway, wouldn’t you say the sword was in great shape for being over three thousand years old”?

Ben carefully handed the sword back to Mr. Carlyle. He had broken enough and certainly didn’t want to damage this sword of Ajax, Hector or whoever. Ben was so nervous that he was even afraid that he might drop it on his foot and break a toe or something.

Holding the sword high, Mr. Carlyle continued, “What if I told you that this has been in my possession for just a short time and that I had recovered it after Ajax’s death”.

Mary fidgeted as Mr. Carlyle seemed to make less and less sense. “Maybe”, she said, “Ben and I should just leave now”, her eyes darting around the room looking for the quickest way out, away from Mr. Carlyle and his collections.

“Nonsense”, said Mr. Carlyle, “Sit. My story is just beginning to unfold and I have decided to tell it all to you”. Pacing the room now, Mr. Carlyle was looking for the proper place to start his story. Running over in his head an inventory of all the items filling the closets and halls of his house, he kept repeating over and over, “Where to start? How to start?” all the while spinning the sword of Ajax in the air almost unthinkingly as if second nature.

“He really is crazy”, thought Ben who while eyeing a possible escape route through the open salon window, knew that he could not leave Mary alone with Mr. Carlyle and the sword.

“I’m scaring you two aren’t I, “Said Mr. Carlyle as he now returned the sword to its cabinet. “Please forgive me. Before I tell you tales of my collection, I must tell my story. Now is as good a time as any for I fear that our dinner is hopelessly burnt on the grill” he said with a grin”. “Please relax”.

Now sitting in a chair, Mr. Carlyle paused for a moment and then looked at Ben and Mary. “You are in no danger from me children, please believe”.

“You see, I haven’t been totally honest with you”, said Mr. Carlyle , his grin now gone, replaced by a nervousness and a twitch which Ben and Mary hadn’t noticed before.

“In your eyes, I am maybe seventy-five years old, I am actually much, much older.” said Mr. Carlyle rising from his chair, his stature seeming to grow and his presence filling the room.

Shoulders back, he turned to Ben and Mary and with a deep, almost authoritative voice said, “I am not Cleophus Constanius Carlyle but that is of no consequence. It is just another of many names I have been called over the centuries since my birth”.

“You would know me as Noah”.

____________________

Next week...

Chapter 6 - The End Of The Beginning