More Than Human

Prodd used to say, ‘There’s this about a farm: when the market’s good there’s money, and when it’s bad there’s food.’ Actually the principle hardly operated here, for his contact with markets was slight. It was a long haul to town and what if there’s a tooth off the hay rake? ‘We’ve still got a workin’ majority.’ Two off, eight, twelve? ‘Then make another pass. No road will go by here, not ever. Place will never get too big, get out of hand.’ Even the war passed them by, Prodd being over age and Lone – well, the sheriff was by once and had a look at the half-wit working on Prodd’s, and one look was enough.

When Prodd was young the little farmhouse was there, and when he married they built on to it – a little, not a lot, just a room. If the room had ever been used the land wouldn’t have been enough. Lone slept in the room of course but that wasn’t quite the same thing. That’s not what the room was for.

Lone sensed the change before anyone else, even before Mrs Prodd. It was a difference in the nature of one of her silences. It was a treasure-proud silence, and Lone felt it change as a man’s kind of pride might change when he turned from a jewel he treasured to a green shoot he treasured. He said nothing and concluded nothing; he just knew.

He went on with his work as before. He worked well; Prodd used to say that whatever anyone might think, that boy was a farmer before his accident. He said it not knowing that his own style of farming was as available to Lone as water from his pump. So was anything else Lone wanted to take.

So the day Prodd came down to the south meadow, where Lone was stepping and turning tirelessly, a very part of his whispering scythe, Lone knew what it was that he wanted to say. He caught Prodd’s gaze for half a breath in those disturbing eyes and knew as well that saying it would pain Prodd more than a little.

Understanding was hardly one of his troubles any more, but niceties of expression were. He stopped mowing and went to the forest margin near by and let the scythe-point drop into a rotten stump. It gave him time to rehearse his tongue, still thick and unwieldy after eight years here.

Prodd followed slowly. He was rehearsing too.

Suddenly, Lone found it. ‘Been thinking,’ he said.

Prodd waited, glad to wait. Lone said,’ I should go.’ That wasn’t quite it. ‘Move along,’ he said, watching. That was better.

‘Ah, Lone. Why?’

Lone looked at him. Because you want me to go.

‘Don’t you like it here?’ said Prodd, not wanting to say that at all.

‘Sure.’ From Prodd’s mind, he caught, Does he know? and his own answered, Of course I know! But Prodd couldn’t hear that. Lone said slowly, ‘Just time to be moving along.’

‘Well.’ Prodd kicked a stone. He turned to look at the house and that turned him away from Lone, and that made it easier. ‘When we came here, we built Jack’s, your room, the room you’re using. We call it Jack’s room. You know why, you know who Jack is?’

Yes, Lone thought. He said nothing.

‘Long as you’re… long as you want to leave anyway, it won’t make no difference to you. Jack’s our son.’ He squeezed his hands together. ‘I guess it sounds funny. Jack was the little guy we were so sure about, we built that room with seed money. Jack, he – ‘

He looked up at the house, at its stub of a built-on wing, and around at the rock-toothed forest rim. ‘- never got born,’ he finished.

‘Ah,’ said Lone. He’d picked that up from Prodd. It was useful.

‘He’s coming now, though,’ said Prodd in a rush. His face was alight. ‘We’re a bit old for it, but there’s a daddy or two quite a bit older, and mothers too.’ Again he looked up at the barn, the house. ‘Makes sense in a sort of way, you know, Lone. Now, if he’d been along when we planned it, the place would’ve been too small when he was growed enough to work it with me, and me with no place else to go. But now, why, I reckon when he’s growed we just naturally won’t be here any more, and he’ll take him a nice little wife and start out just about like we did. So you see it does make a kind of sense?’ He seemed to be pleading. Lone made no attempt to understand this.

‘Lone, listen to me, I don’t want you to feel we’re turning you out.’

‘Said I was going.’ Searching, he found something and amended,’ ‘Fore you told me.’ That, he thought, was very right.

‘Look, I got to say something,’ said Prodd. ‘I heard tell of folk who want kids and can’t have ‘em, sometimes they just give up trying and take in somebody else’s. And sometimes, with a kid in the house, they turn right round and have one of their own after all.’

‘Ah,’ said Lone.

‘So what I mean is, we taken you in, didn’t we, and now look.’

Lone did not know what to say. ‘Ah’ seemed wrong.

‘We got a lot to thank you for, is what I mean, so we don’t want you to feel we’re turning you out.’

‘I already said.’

‘Good then.’ Prodd smiled. He had a lot of wrinkles on his face, mostly from smiling.