The grass on my left wasn't as tall but looked like it hadn't been cut for some time either. There were weeds and untrimmed bushes everywhere. A sick maple tree in front was having an early autumn and dropped its leaves like tears, crying about itself. There was a wheelbarrow turned on its side beneath it, the inside streaked with rust. It looked like it had been left there fifty years ago.
But my attention went quickly to the
farmhouse. This was a very different house from the mansion in which we had all lived with Grandmother Emma, and not just because it was much, much smaller. It was still a large house with two stories and an attic. There was a small tower on the right side with arched windows and the front had a wide porch, but it didn't look very nice and certainly not what I'd expect to be the home of Grandmother Emma's sister.
"This was once quite a house," Felix remarked. The way he emphasized "once" told me he didn't think that much of it now either. The wall cladding and roofing were composed of continuous wood shingles that had long ago faded and graved. As we drew closer. I saw that some windows had just window shades drawn down or a little ways up, but few had curtains. Some spindles in the porch railings were missing and some hung loosely and looked as if they would fall out any moment. I could see that the second step to the porch was broken.
Because of the way the porch roof shaded the front of the house now, the windows were dark, more like mirrors.
As we came around. I made out the side of what looked like a small barn behind the house, but the grass was wild and uncut around it as well.
I'm going to live here? I wondered, I suddenly remembered the tale of The Prince and the Pauper. I had left the grand castle where I had lived like a princess and now I was going to live like a poor little girl. Why did Grandmother Emma leave her one and only sister in such a place? Didn't she care that people would see how she had left and treated her only sister? How could Grandmother Emma not know how dilapidated and rundown it was? Exactly when had she been here last? Surely it must have been a long time ago, and it must have been beautiful then or she wouldn't have sent me. Maybe she knew but didn't care. And now she was sending me here. too! Wasn't I a March anymore?
Or maybe being sick had made her so unhappy that she wasn't worried whether or not I would be.
When Felix stopped the car, he just sat there staring at the house, shaking his head slowly. He couldn't believe it either. It was all a mistake. He remained seated. For a moment I wondered if he was going to get out at all, or if he was just going to start the engine, turn around, and take me back.
Finally, he opened his door and got out. He stood there for a few moments with his hands on his hips, gazing at the property. He shook his head more vigorously this time, then finally reached for my door and opened it for me.
"I'll get your things," he said. "Just wait here."
I got out slowly while he went to the trunk to fetch my suitcases. There was still no sign of anyone either at the farmhouse or the smaller house to my right. Perhaps everyone left, I thought. That could be it, Everyone left a long tune ago. No one lived here anymore and Grandmother Emma just didn't know yet. I couldn't help wishing that was so.
Felix came around and started for the front porch.
"Come along," he said. "but watch the step." he warned. I could hear the underflow of anger growling in his throat. He stepped over the broken step, glaring back at it.
Closer now. I could see that even some porch floorboards were cracked, a few broken enough to have fallen in, leaving gaping holes. The front windows were stained with dust and dirt. There were pieces of bushes and tree branches scattered over the porch floor. No one had swept it for some time. There was a flannel shirt crumpled in the corner.
Felix lowered my suitcases carefully to the porch floor, as if he thought the weight of them might cave it in. He searched for a door buzzer and found a hole with a wire. He plucked it and glanced at it, and then at me, with disgust before turning to the door and knocking hard on it-- so hard that the panel windows rattled. I thought they'd fall out and shatter. Again, he looked at me, his face dark and gray with displeasure.
I was overcome and depressed by the same disappointment. When I first had heard I was going to live with Great-aunt Frances on a farm. I immediately envisioned the farms I had seen in my storybooks and on television, farms with whitewashed picket fences, pretty, well-kept corrals and lots of fun farm animals. Surely. I kept hoping. Grandmother Emma and the March family couldn't own anything as dreary as this.
I remembered hearing how my grandfather had gotten the property in a foreclosure, but I also remembered either my grandmother or my father saying he wanted it to be their rural retreat, a vacation home. I knew they had fixed it up. It was all so confusing. If they had fixed it up, how could it look like this? Why or how Great-aunt Frances had ended up living here. I did not know, and I certainly didn't know or understand how she could be living here now.
No one came to the door, so Felix rapped on it again, this time taking care to hit only the solid section, really pounding on the jamb itself. Finally, we heard footsteps and a high-pitched, "Coming, coming. Don't bust a gut"
The door did not open easily. It caught on the jamb as if it hadn't been opened for centuries and looked like it would be torn in half with any effort to open it. Finally, it did, and my great-aunt Frances stepped out to greet us. Felix, who assuredly had seen her before, actually recoiled at the sight of her. I stood there, gaping in disbelief.
I could hear my grandmother Emma's chiding, "Don't stare at someone like that. It's impolite."
But how could I not? Great-aunt Frances's dark gray hair was in clumsily spun pigtails, strands curling off like broken guitar strings. It looked like a poor attempt to make her aged face youthful.
She was about Grandmother Emma's height, but she was heavier, both in her bosom and hips. She wore a dull blue one- piece dress that had a tear in the skirt hem. The sleeves had a frilly white trim and the bodice had a collar that fit snugly around her neck, just opened at the base. She wore a light red lipstick and had some faint rouge on her cheeks, but her eyebrows were untrimmed. I saw she had a gold teardrop earring on her right ear but none on her left. A charm bracelet dangled off her right wrist. However, it looked like a child's toy bracelet made of plastic.
"Sorry. Miss Wilkens," Felix said. "but do you know your door buzzer is broken?"
"Is it? I haven't had anyone come calling for so long, I didn't know." she said, looking at the wires Felix showed her. "Oh, how terrible. Someone could get a nasty shock."
"No. It's dead," Felix said dryly. Then he turned to me. "This is Jordan."
"Jordan?"
"Jordan March. Miss Wilkens, your grandniece. I know you were informed we'd be here today."
"Oh, dear me, is today the day? How did I forget?" She looked at me and smiled, "Oh, good," she said, clapping her hands. "You're not a baby. I didn't know how I could look after a baby."
Felix turned to me. I think we were both thinking the same thing: Look- after a baby? You don't look like you call look after yourself