SEPTEMBER 6, 2024
SOMETHING IN THE SKY
SOMETHING IN THE SKY
PREFACE
Violet’s mother had an expression when something went a little off with the normal fabric of everyday. She said: “There must have been something in the water.”
Her mother’s way of viewing events always underplayed, even neutralized, the most dire and frightening situations. She seemed to shrink them into manageable bites with her language so the people around her would not be overwhelmed into useless paralysis. She could never stand to have panicked crying children or yelling adults around her. There was something to do in every situation and she just wanted to get on with whatever that was and for the people around her to do the same thing or at least get out of her way.
Violet turned to Margaret. “We have stop thinking about all that from Tuesday. I am going to put it behind me. There is no sense dwelling on it. Its done. I don’t think anything else is going to happen and it is silly to stare up at the sky like Chicken Little waiting…. Waiting for something to fall on our heads. It must have been something in the water…. Or the sky.’”
With that she slapped the flat of her hand on the table, rose to her feet and poured them each a cup of tea.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Margaret and Violet drove in companionable silence. Out of habit Margaret watched the road like the responsible licenced driver that Violet’s Beginner’s Permit required. Though Violet drove like she had driven for years, after just two months of instruction.
The secret lessons started in September when the girls went back to school. The two women were sisters-in-law and friends. Violet for her own reasons did not want anyone to know what they were doing, especially her husband, George. Margaret did not question Violet’s decision. She was aware of her brother’s attitudes and just helped with the plan. No one had any clue what they were doing. Margaret was the only friend of Violet’s that George did not object to. Only because Margaret was his sister and he could hardly object to his sister’s friendship, even if he would have liked to. Both couples had married right out of high school, had their children at the same time. They lived in farms on the same concession. Daniel and Margaret bought a farm from an elderly relative and George took over the family farm after his parents retired and moved into town.
Violet never managed to find the opportunity to get her driver’s licence. She was the youngest child in her family and her four older brothers shouldered her out of the way when it came to learning to drive and getting access to the family car. Then she married George and baby Janet had followed ten months after the wedding. She barely got herself turned around and used to being a farm wife before she took on the extra responsibilities of her sweet baby girl. Two more baby girls followed in the next three years. Afterward, there was always some to delay. The hay needed to be cut or there was no one to look after the baby. Later, it would not be a good idea to have all three girls in the backseat of the car while she was learning.
“You never knew” George always said without any trace of regret or any ready solutions.
Twelve years passed and she hardly had time to catch her breath. Sometimes standing at the clothesline pinning up sheets and diapers, the endless small articles of clothing that three children went through on a farm. She watched with a twinge of longing as the plumes of dust rose on the road as various neighbouring farm wives drove off into town to shop or do other errands…alone. No man in the driver’s seat. No man to huff and snort when she took longer than he wanted to wait.
Once she had just said to George: “Well you like to eat as much as anybody. How do you think the food gets into the refrigerator? I don’t go out a grub it out of the ground with my bare hands.”
He did not speak to her for days after that. The first time he spoke to her he had to ask where some article of something or other was to be found. She felt some measure of satisfaction that he had been driven to speak of necessity. Afterwards she kept most opinions to herself though that did not mean she did not have them. She savoured the release of formulating them in her head but resolved to forego the additional pleasure of saying them out loud. She counselled silence on her part to avoid George’s quiet retaliations.
Three babies and no son to show for it, made George bitter and silent. There was an uneasy truce between them that formed the core of their relationship. After Emily was born George sulked because the third baby was yet another girl. He wanted a boy.
“Who is going take over the farm?” he had muttered more to himself as he watched his daughters. It was lost on him on strong they were. He did not see how willingly they did anything that needed doing around the farm. Their unadulterated affection was also lost on him. He saw little beyond his desire for a son.
Once he did make the mistake of expressing his disappointment to his brother-in-law Daniel. When he lamented the misfortune of having three daughters and no son. Daniel replied:
“My girls are as good as a half-dozen damn boys. Look at those boys of Bev’s. The lazy little bastards can’t be trusted to do anything unless he is standing right over them with a pitchfork. Your girls do a good job around your place to. After Gabby finishes with that chicken coop and the barn you could almost eat off the floor.”
George was not to be convinced. Partly because he harboured that ancient belief that the woman was responsible for the sex of the baby and his wife deliberately deprived him of sons. After Emily, he even left off most sexual relations. George did not want to take a chance on a fourth daughter. Three daughters had sullied his manhood as much as he was going to stand. He was giving up on any more damn babies!
Violet, on the other hand, secretly rejoiced at the birth of each of her daughters. She loved each one of them fiercely. Her body would not betray her by allowing a boy to grow in it. Boys had been the bane of her life. Her four brothers were dirty, selfish, stinking and rough. She hardly considered them part of the same species as herself. They gave no thought to her or all the hard work that their mother did everyday. They wolfed down the food she prepared hardly even tasting it. The tracked mud and worse from outside and never bothered to wipe their feet. They were loud and obnoxious. With age they grew more profane and crude. When they were out of her parents’ hearing they talked about girls as if they were livestock. She pitied any woman who got stuck with one of them as a husband. Not one of them believed that anything a woman did was important or worth their thanks.
Violet never saw her life as anything other than it was. She always expected that she would marry and live on a farm and live a life very similar to the life she watched her mother lead. The idea that she might be entitled to be happy or it was her prerogative to make herself happy never occurred to her. She met George and he did not seem quite as bad as some of the other boys that she had gone to school with. And of course, he came with Margaret as his sister. It was Margaret she loved. If any part of life could be described as happy it was being in the company of Margaret. As their children grew older and went to school they would get together in the morning and have a quiet cup of tea. Violet felt her spirits lift before the telltale rumble of the school bus and the cloud of dust from the gravel road settled. The kettle would be boiled and tea made. George was off doing his morning chores. They set out some fine China tea cups and a plate of whatever was freshly baked. A plume of steam unfurled in the sunlight coming in the window from the spout of the Brown Betty teapot. They sat down at the table and poured their tea in a private, ceremonious way that marked a caesura in the raucous chorus and rhythm of their days. It was a brief respite between all the work and chores.
It was over tea one morning when Margaret again brought up the subject of Violet learning to drive. She thought about it for a long time before she suggested it to Violet. She knew that her brother would not approve and Violet would not force the issue. She had to proceed carefully.
“You need to know how to drive Violet. What if something happened to one of the girls or to George? What if something happens when George is out in the fields? And…. you could go into town anytime you needed to without asking George. You could surprise him.”
“Oh it would surprise him alright.” Said Violet.
She was ready to do it though. Violet wondered how much Margaret knew about the way things were between her and George. She suspected that Margaret felt some guilt over Violet’s situation because George was her brother. It was ridiculous. Violet did not accept any blame for the way her brothers behaved.
Margaret did not ask questions when Violet insisted on keeping the project a secret. The girls were not to be told until she passed the final test and had her full licence. They were very careful not to mention the driving lessons in front of the girls. Violet always had her lessons when she and Margaret were alone. When they went to pick up the girls from school or some other activity like 4H, Violet always drove after they were dropped off or before they were picked up.
They started in September when the girls were back to school and busy with all their extra activities. Several evenings a week they needed to be driven to 4H meetings or to Girls Group at the Glad Tidings Church. By the end of October Violet was ready to take her final test and she took it on a Tuesday morning.
“If I get my licence we are going to surprise the girls tonight when we pick them up from 4H. I am going to bake a big chocolate cake and we can have it when we get home. I just hope that I get it. Or I’ll just eat that whole cake by myself and drown my sorrows.” Violet laughed
“You’ll get it. You’ve been driving on these gravel roads like a race car driver. You haven’t killed anybody and we haven’t been in the ditch once! You’re a good driver.” Margaret said as she nudged her.
She did do it. When the temporary copy of her licence was handed to her she felt lighter, as though she suddenly sprouted wings. She felt as though a door opened and she could see a whole lot of new possibilities. She was not trapped anymore on one piece of land. She did not even realize she was trapped until she held that piece of paper in her hand.
That night after supper they got into the car as usual. Violet and Margaret in the front seat with Margaret still behind the wheel as the girls settled in the back. Then Margaret and Violet looked at each other and Margaret said:
“I’m tired of driving. Violet you take a turn.”
Violet got out of the passenger seat and walked over to the driver’s door.
“Well then. Move over!” she said laughing.
The girls looked on, eyes wide. Emily said “Mama can’t drive! She’s not allowed.”
“Who says? This little paper says I can so. So buckle up! I’ve got a licence now.”
In the rearview mirror Violet saw George standing on the front porch, his face like a six-week drought. He had seen and heard the whole thing. So now he knew.
She was not looking forward to coming home that night but swallowed down her nervousness with the thought: “There isn’t anything he can do about it now.”
As if in response to her mood the colour drained from the coppery lit sky of late day. Everything was drenched in a gray light that seeped out from a cover of clouds that filled the sky. The girls were still excited by the novelty of their mother and aunt’s new daring and watched her as she drove over the gravel road and into town. They got out of the car at the school where the 4H club met. Margaret and Violet went into the drugstore and bought a coffee to wait.
By the time the 4H meeting ended the night was black. As they drove out of town the girls went unusually quiet in the back.
Margaret turned in the seat and said, “You girls are like a bunch of chickens. Its dark and you have all gone to roost. What’s up?”
There was no answer for a beat. All five girls were turned in their seats looking out of the rear window. Looking in the rearview mirror to take a quick look at the girls Violet saw lights in the sky behind them above the cloud cover. She assumed it was lightening, although the colour was wrong. There was too much of it. Margaret caught by the sight, silently stared. Light began to burst out from the gaps in the cloud cover almost too bright to look at. The coloured light spun and pulsed through the interior of the car as if it were getting closer. Gabby hugged Emily who whimpered as the lights grew brighter and closer to them. Wanda, Margaret’s oldest asked: “What is that Mom?” One of them said “I’m scared!”
Violet watched in the rearview mirror and felt the pulse in her neck pounding as the lights approached. Instinctively she pressed the gas peddle. The car hardly sped up as if it lacked the will.
“Violet, go faster for Heaven’s sake!” commanded Margaret in a low voice she was hoping the girls would not hear.
Wanting to keep the girls calm, Violet whispered, “I’m going as fast as I can. The car just won’t go any faster.”
Violet silent, drove as if she had been driving all her life. Even at the speed she could manage the car was launched from the brow of some of the hills on the back road. Their stomachs lurched with the shift in gravity.
Violet prayed that someone else would come along but there were no other cars on the road. Failing that, she just wanted to reach their driveway and get everyone safely in the house. Safe, was the thought she had. Just get home. She knew the source of that light was nothing good. On that road there was nothing to do but keep moving.
It seemed like a miracle when they saw the open gate at the end of the long driveway to the house. Violet slammed on the brakes, fish tailing the car, but managed to turn into the driveway. She drove to the end of the driveway, stopping feet from the house, skidding the car to a stop in a shower of gravel and dust. She was the first one out and yanked the back door open yelling at the girls to get into the house. Light flooded the yard. As the dust settled George stood there on the top step transfixed, staring at the sky. He looked like a stranger.
“Get in! Get in all of you! George get out of the way!” Violet said in a voice she did not recognize as her own. She half carried one of the girls and grabbed another around the shoulders and propelled them to the house in front of her.
Once they were all in the house, Violet tried to dial the police. The phone was silent. No dial tone or that sudden silence of callers on the party line who have detected the lifting of a third receiver. The three adults guided the girls to the far wall of the kitchen and returned to the window that looked out into the front yard. The lights were already receding, the colours fading to a dull gray that glowed behind the clouds. Then nothing, as though a light bulb burned out.
Engulfed in sudden and total blackness for some seconds someone tried the light switch. It went on like a miracle. All of them squinted in the sudden brightness. Margaret picked up the phone again and there was a voice on the party line.
“Hang up that damn phone! I have to make a call to the police.”
“Is it about those lights?” said a tinny, voice laced with panic.
“Yes, yes!” yelled Margaret. “For the love of God, hang up the phone!”
They were not the only ones who had seen the lights. Another neighbour already called the police. The girls screamed as they heard footsteps running up the front porch and only stopped when they saw their father and uncle come through the door. Daniel had watched the lights for only a few minutes before he decided to drive out and meet his wife and their daughters. As it turned out the police officers sent to investigate could do nothing but write down their accounts and contact the Armed Forces. Not many of the people of Whittlesley had even seen the lights. A few of the people living on neighbouring farms had. There were not enough witnesses to prevent derisive theories about overactive imaginations, unusual sky conditions because of the approaching storm, thrown in with speculation about alcohol and mass hysteria. There was a brief flurry of interest by the local paper. The strange apparition of lights and the seeming life or death race down a back country road was high drama for a week interest waned and people returned their attention to the birth of triplets human or livestock and pie contests. It was as if everyone preferred to forget. No one seemed inclined to talk about the lights and Margaret and Violet’s or what might have happened if they had not reached home when they did. Most people decided that they liked the world just as it was before all that nonsense. Like a favourite pair of socks with a hole in the toe, people chose to turn the sock slightly to hide the hole. They wanted predictable and they let the story fade from memory.
The night of the incident, George was quiet for a time after the excitement was over and the girls had finally fallen asleep. Daniel and Margaret left the girls to sleep with their cousins and would pick them up in the morning. The terror and excitement of the night had slowly ebbed. Violet and George sat in the kitchen, their cups of coffee cold and forgotten. They all had large pieces of the celebratory cake and ice cream but Violet’s licence was only mentioned in passing when Margaret said that Violet could drive like Mario Andretti.
The only light came from the stove, a drab half-hearted light that cast black shadows into the corners of the kitchen. Violet spoke in way familiar and yet with an element of that voice she discovered was hers earlier that night. She kept it low because the girls slept upstairs and the time of night seemed to require it, but George heard.
“So you know I got my driver’s licence today.” It was not a question. “What is it about the way we are that made me feel like I had to go behind your back? How did you make me feel that driving was something I had to ask your permission to learn? I’m an adult. I’m not your property. You treat your cows better than you treat me sometimes. Don’t you think there’s something wrong with that? I don’t think you have the right to make me feel like that. Something is wrong. I don’t know if it’s me or it’s you or both of us. But you know what? I’m done with that. I am never going to let someone, including you George, make me feel like that about myself or make me feel like I don’t deserve something. Because you know what? I do!”
“And you know what else? I better not hear you talk about our daughters the way you have been. They are great girls and they pull their weight around here better than any boy I ever met. And what’s more, I can’t even say why, but they love you. If you keep on that will change. If you don’t want to be a lonely miserable old man you better be treating us all the way we deserve!”
George had not said anything. He looked into her eyes and she did not flinch or look away. Slowly he nodded his head once in assent. He was never one for a lot of words.