ATOP Chapter Twenty-One

Mac glanced up from the cabinet he was working on as Jafe entered the barn. He seemed to be walking a bit slower than he usually did and his eyes were focused on the ground. Leaning against the doorway, he pulled the battered hat from his head and stood twisting it in his hands. Mac cleared his throat loudly and called out with an impish grin.

"Hey, ole man, how's town?"

"Not bad," Jafe grinned back, a trifle sheepishly. "How's the farm, laddie? Ya keepin' it up or has it burnt to the ground in my absence?"

"Time for glasses," Mac quirked an eyebrow at his uncle and shook his head sadly. "Standin' in it and he don't even know. Gonna retire yet, eh Jafe?"

"Aw, you hush. I'm worried for ya, Mackie, if marriage can't make you grow up and act like a man, then there's no hope for ya."

"If... uh... if marriage is what makes you a man... does that mean you're still a little boy?" Mac grinned again, but at the look that passed over his uncle's face, immediately wished his words unsaid. He fell silent a moment and when he spoke again, the joking tone was gone from his voice and concern was creeping in.

"Hey... you okay, Unc? Somethin' happen in town?"

"Nah..." Jafe forced a smile. "Nothin', really."

"Aw, can't fool me. You don't look so good now and you were fine this morning, now spill it or I'll dump it outta you."

"Hm, talking like a man now, is he?" Jafe spoke musingly to the rafters.

"Out with it, Jafe," Mac planted his hands on his hips and stood glaring at his uncle. "What's going on?"

"Aw, I saw Annie, that's all," Jafe shrugged nonchalantly. He actually hadn't meant to give in and say anything, he wasn't quite sure how he had let his secret out. Now he had pulled the plug and the whole of it was liable to come pouring out. 

"Annie, eh? Now is that Annie Harris whose husband owns the mercantile or Annie Jarvis who's still in kindergarten?" Mac mused, "And why would the sight of either of them make you look gloomy enough to rival a North African thunderstorm?"

"Neither of 'em. T'was Annie Tyler. And what exactly does a thunderstorm in North Africa entail that sets it apart from a thunderstorm in Minnesota?"

"Oh, nothing much," Mac said airily, picking up a chisel and setting back to work on the cabinet. "Just an entire artillery barrage of thunder 'n lightning, followed by half the Atlantic Ocean dumped straight on your head. Things are liable to float away and go missing... things like sleeping bags 'n canteens 'n tents 'n torpedoes 'n spare mess sergeants. No great loss though. Ain't that Anne Tyler, the teacher from over in the next town?"

"Yup. Her family lives in Lanesboro though, yknow. Her da's the one who runs the lumber mill."

"So... uh... Jafe..." Mac put down his chisel and folded his arms to lean on the cabinet as he stared steadily at Jafe. "What is it about seeing this Annie that makes you look like that?"

"No you dinna, I've said enough. C'mon lad, there's gallons of honey waiting to be processed,"

"You ain't getting out of this so easy," Mac chuckled. "C'mon and tell, your secret's safe with me, consider it buried in the grave."

"Too morbid."

"Kay, fine then, consider it buried in the safe at Greenbriar's general store."

Jafe laughed at that. He took a step back, cocked his head at his nephew, and sighed.

"You'll be wanting the long version too, laddie, or I miss my guess."

"The whole nine yards." Mac settled down on a nearby overturned bucked and waited. "Alright Unc, now spill the secrets and spare none."

"You impertinent upstart," Jafe grimaced and likewise found a bucket. "Seems t'me you missed a hiding or two when you were of a more accommodating size to wallop." 

"Wouldn't wanna try now, would you," Mac laughed. "Choose your battles wisely, eh?"

"You wanna argue or you wanna listen?" Jafe started to his feet but Mac made a show of zipping his lips and his uncle settled back down. "Now, this all goes way back... mostly happened when you were a wee thing, I guess. Now Annie... prettiest girl in Lanesboro, in Minnesota, really... maybe in the whole world..."

"So you're sweet on her," the grin was impish again. Jafe was of half a mind to slap it off his nephew's face. "Couldn't be half as pretty as my Lintie," Mac added, grinning wider.

"Weeell..." Jafe said slowly. "Let's just say it'd be a close contest. Annie... she's just a couple years younger than me... we went to school together, real good friends when we were kids. Sorta had a group going like that Cavalry of yours or whatever it is... but anyway, skip ahead a few years, no sense in going on about all that... y'see, once we got to highschool, things started to change. Annie went from being a scrawny freckled thing in crooked pigtails to... to... well, she was just bonnie. Still is... bonnier than ever..." 

A sort of dreamy look crossed his face and he fell silent. Mac waited, biting his lip to refrain from any more "impertinent" jokes. Jafe came to himself, clearing his throat and shaking his head as if to free himself of old dreams. 

"It was one o' them infernal picnic basket auctions... I still blame yer da... y'know, those things where the ladies make up picnic baskets and the men bid on 'em and if you win one, you eat the picnic with the lady. We were raising money for a new roof on the church... Annie had made a basket... she was the best cook in Lanesboro... and the prettiest girl besides... competition was pretty stiff. I was only eighteen and poor as a church mouse. I couldn't bid, it had gone too high... and your da sneaked up behind me and stuffed the money in my hand... so I won Annie's basket. And that... was just the beginning... or mebbe it was the beginning of the end, now that I think of it."

His face shadowed. Mac bit his lip harder. This time to refrain from asking what went wrong. Jafe was talking again, forcibly nonchalant. 

"Well, Anne and I got to be a bit of an item. Went pretty near everywhere together... church and all the socials and even worked part time at the lumber mill just so's I could see her more often." he paused and frowned. "I dunno what went wrong. I thought... I mean... I... I s'pose it was my fault again... maybe it was the apple tree situation or... the rowboat incident... or mebbe... mebbe what happened at Ford's picnic... always was making a fool of myself..."

Mac was practically bursting with curiosity by this point, but to his credit, he did not ask. His lip, however, was bleeding. 

"Well, to make a long story short, I asked her to marry me and she said no. Haven't really spoken to her since and that was fifteen years ago. Serves me right for losin' my heart like that..." he stood up and kicked the bucket halfway across the room. His back was to Mac and his head was hanging. His shoulders trembled slightly. And when he spoke, there were tears in his voice. 

"She was my Lintie, Mac. And I lost her." 

With that, he walked out of the barn and disappeared around the corner.