~ The Calendar Clan ~

by

Lynette Hall Hampton

Sitting in a rocking chair on my parents’ front porch with my leg propped on a stool wasn’t the location I’d envisioned to spend my summer, but that’s where I ended up. I had no choice. After a bullet grazed my right calf, I fell and broke the leg in two places. It was now in a cast past my knee, which made it hard for me to maneuver, even on crutches.

When I left the hospital, Beth McCormick, my roommate, insisted on driving me to the farm. “I won’t be at home to help you, June,” she explained. “I’m scheduled to fly out tomorrow and you can’t stay here without me around. You can’t even go to the bathroom alone. There’s no way you can look after yourself.”

I knew she was right. Beth, a flight attendant, has a job that keeps her out of the country for several days at a time. I didn’t argue. I let her pack my bags, gather up food and toys for my cat, Dingo, stuff him into his pet carrier and chauffeur me to the farm of Bradley and Celia March in the foothills of North Carolina’s Blue Ridge Mountains.

“Now, June,” Beth always thought on the practical side of things and as we turned from I-40 and headed up Highway 421, she said, “Don’t worry about the bills at the apartment. I’ll take care of them and send you copies. We’ll settle up when you get back on your feet.”

“I appreciate that. I’m not sure how long I’ll be out of commission.”

Beth and I had been roommates at University of North Carolina at Greensboro and became fast friends on the first day we met. Her family lived in Greensboro, but wanted her to have the full college experience so she’d elected to live on campus. I thought this was kind of strange, but since she thought my two-month name, June March, was strange, I guess it was a fair exchange. We’d only been in school a few weeks when I told her I had to go home for the weekend because my brother October was having a birthday. She looked at me as if I were from some distant planet.

“I’ve never known anyone named October.” Her eyes grew big.

“That’s nothing,” I said. “There are six kids in my family and we’re all named after the month in which we were born.”

“You’re kidding.” When I shook my head, she added, “Why in the world would your parents choose such unusual names for their children?”

“I have no idea why, Beth. Maybe they have a warped sense of humor or maybe they could really be sadists and wanted to inflict pain on their kids.”

She could see she’d irritated me, so she laughed and said in a nervous voice, “Well, at least you made out okay in the name department.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be snappy,” I apologized. “Through grammar and high school, people often referred to us as the Calendar Clan. I guess I’m just a little sensitive about it. I’m not sure if my siblings feel this way, but the two youngest, January and October, have shortened their names to Jan and Toby. That must mean something.”

Through our college years, talk of my families’ names popped up every so often, but soon Beth accepted it as a natural thing.

We had passed the King exit on the ride to the farm yesterday when Dingo began to meow from his carrier in the back seat. It made the usually pleasant ride hardly bearable.

“I don’t think he likes to ride.” Beth almost had to yell to make me hear.

“He’s never been crazy about it.”

She changed the subject. “Are you looking forward to spending time with your family?”

“Since I haven’t told them about my accident, I’m not too sure how they’re going to react to my appearing for an extended stay—bum leg, cat and all.”

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to have you.”

“Mom will probably be glad to have someone to look after. She’s good at that sort of thing.”

Dingo’s meowing changed to caterwauling and we weren’t able to do much talking after that. Beth actually turned on the radio to try to drown him out, but it didn’t work. Dingo’s voice didn’t blend with that of Garth Brooks, so we gave up.

When we arrived at the March farm, and after a firm lecture about not calling them when I was first injured, Dad mumbled something about me being a little more careful. Mom was delighted I came home. As I predicted, she hovered and patted and cooed over me. She then put a big meal on the table and insisted we eat as soon as the car was unloaded.

Beth had to fly out early the next morning and wanted to get home in time to get a good night’s sleep, but she did take time to eat. She’d been here before and knew what a wonderful cook Mom was. Like most people, she couldn’t refuse when Mom offered food.

Jan, a senior in high school and the baby of the family, arrived home soon after Beth left. She hugged me and said, “June, what in the world happened to your leg?”

“I had a little break, but it’s going to be okay.” I changed the subject because I wasn’t ready to go into detail about how I broke my leg. “How about you? What’s going on at Edison High?”

“It’s busy. I’m supposed to go over to Fran Pierce’s house tonight so we can start planning the decorations for the prom.” She smiled at me and added, “Of course, since you’re here, I’ll call and tell her I can’t come.”

I smiled back. “There’s no need of that. You go to your friend’s house and plan those decorations. You only have one senior prom in your life and since I’ll be here for a while, you’ll have plenty of time to spend with me.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Besides, my leg hurts a little. I’m going to lie down on the sofa and give it a rest.”

“No you won’t,” Mom butted into the conversation. “I have the downstairs guest room ready for you. I knew it’d be too hard for you to climb the stairs on those crutches. We’ll get you settled in there and you can take a nap while I get supper ready.”

I couldn’t imagine what Mom planned for supper. She’d cooked enough at lunch to last a week, but I didn’t say anything. Nobody argues with my mother about food.

I must have dropped off to sleep as soon as I lay down because the next thing I heard was the roar of a Volkswagen in the driveway. I knew my brother, Toby, was home. The afternoon sun sent long shadows across the butterfly-patterned quilt on the bed and I realized I’d slept longer than I’d meant to. I reached for the crutches Mom had propped on the foot of the cannonball bed and headed for the living room.

“Well, Sis,” Toby greeted me. “Looks like you’ve gotten yourself in another mess.”

“I’m good at that, aren’t I?”

“You sure are. But somehow you always come out okay. What happened this time?” he asked as he put his arm around my shoulder and hugged me.

“I fell.” I didn’t want to go into a long explanation.

“I bet there’s more to it than that and I want to hear about it later, but I’ve got to get to my night class. Wouldn’t have come home, but I left my book here.”

“You go ahead. I think I’ll go sit on the porch with Dad. Looks like he’s out there making something.”

“Probably tying lures. He likes to make his own and it’s getting to the time of year he likes to go fishing.”

I pushed open the screen door and went out. “May I join you?”

“Sure, honey.” He put his supplies aside and pulled up one of the big rocking chairs for me. “I’ll bring a stool over and you can prop up your leg.”

He got me settled, then went back to his work. We were silent for a minute, then he said, “We’re alone now, Junie.”

“Yes.” I knew what he was getting at, but I was trying to postpone it.

“Don’t you think it’s time you told me what really happened?”

“I told you, Dad. I fell.” I knew what he’d say next, but I waited him out.

“I know you fell. What made you fall? I know they pulled you out of a ditch behind some house in Greensboro. Beth told me that. What were you doing in the ditch and how did you get there?”

I knew I’d have to answer him, but not yet. Mom saved me. She pushed the door opened and told us to come eat supper so Toby could eat before he went to school.

“I’m not through with my questions yet,” Dad whispered as he helped me out of the chair and escorted me to the kitchen table.

Dad said the blessing and Toby began to fill his plate. “I don’t mean to rush, but I do have to get to class.”

“It’s fine, son.” Mom smiled at him.

I nodded at my brother. Toby was a good looking young man and was born between Jan and me. He had opted to help Dad on the farm when he graduated from high school, but after two years, he realized farming wasn’t his life’s calling. He then decided to attend the local community college and work part-time at the Bank of Edison between his morning and evening classes. The job at the bank had been a wonderful opportunity for him and he now knew his future was in the business world.

Mom passed a plate of fried chicken to me. “I know you like chicken, June. I fixed it just for you.”

Though I was still full from lunch, I said, “Thanks, Mom. It looks great.” And of course I ate a big fried breast, along with mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, sliced tomatoes and some of her homemade pickles.

“August called while you were in the garden, Brad,” Mom said to Dad.

August is the other boy in the family. He’s next to the oldest and lives in Atlanta with his wife Teresa and their son Freddie. He doesn’t seem to resent his unusual name. In fact, I’m sure he thinks of it as an advantage in his law practice.

“What did he allow?” Dad asked.

 “He said Teresa seemed to be having an uneventful pregnancy, but since it’s getting close to time, she’s awfully tired of waiting for their second son.”

“I’m still wondering why they told us this baby was going to be a boy. There should be some surprises in life.”

“I think it’s kind of nice to know the sex of the baby, Dad,” I said. “I can buy a gift for a boy instead of having to stick to the neutral colors of yellow or green.”

“I kind of agree with your dad,” Mom said. “It’s always nice to be surprised.”

“Wonder what they’ll name this one,” Toby said.

“Who knows?” Dad said.

“I think they named their first son Freddie after the old movie actor Fredrick March.”

“Now, June,” Mom softly scolded. “You know Teresa said her grandfather’s name was Fredrick.”

“Well folks, I hate to cut out, but I’ve got to go.” Toby stood. When Mom started to say something, he added, “I’ll have dessert when I get home.” He kissed her cheek and was out the door before she could protest.

After dinner, I sat in the kitchen and watched Mom clean up. I knew if I didn’t stick close to her, Dad would harass me again about my leg. Though I realized I’d eventually have to confess, I wasn’t up to telling him the whole story yet. It wasn’t long until the pain pill I took at supper kicked in and I began to nod. Mom suggested I go on to bed and I agreed.

She tucked me in bed and the first night back at the old home place I slept fairly well. If I hadn’t kept dreaming about flying bullets and falling off cliffs I might have had a good night’s sleep.