|
The Past
This story takes place twelve years before the
Glimpses into the Future Universe. A Sunday afternoon in February, during Black
Jacket… The trip
bringing his nephew to Sleepyside from St. Mark’s Juvenile Facility proved to
be interesting for Bill Regan. “I asked Mr. Maypenny to raise you for your own good,” Regan
defended. He tightly clutched the steering wheel of the Subaru station wagon
used by the Wheelers’ staff. Driving was his least favorite activity, and it
made him too nervous to shift his gaze from the road to the sullen teenager
on the seat beside him. “Being stuck with some weirdo hermit
in the middle of the godforsaken forest is ‘for my own good’?” Dan snorted in
disbelief. “I sure would hate to see what would be ‘for my own bad’.” “You certainly aren’t shy about
running your mouth,” Regan remarked. Although his tone was stern, there was a
trace of admiration in his voice. “You remind of someone I used to know.” “Who?” Dan snapped. “Me.” Dan sighed wearily, lifted his
leather hat with one hand, and raked the other hand through his shaggy black
hair. “If you were in my shoes, would you
want to stay with this Maypenny dude?” “When I was your age, I woulda given
anything to be able to live with Mr. Maypenny,” Regan retorted. “Instead, I was stuck in a crowded room with
thirty other teenage boys, never having a moment of privacy, never having
one-on-one time with an adult who cared about me, never—” “Okay, I get the point,” Dan
interrupted with a wince. “So, what’s Maypenny like? Why does he live out
there out on the edge of nowhere, all by himself?” “That’s Mister Maypenny,” Regan corrected, his tone stern. “I don’t know
too much about him; nobody does.” “Great,” Dan mumbled grumpily under
his breath. “You’re probably sending me to live with an ax murderer.” Regan smirked at his nephew. “He’s not an ax murderer. He’s just a nice
old man who lives off the land and never hurts anyone. He’d break his neck to
help a neighbor out, but would rather die before asking for help from anyone
else.” A loud rumbling in Dan’s stomach
made him think of another very important question. “Does he cook good?” “His hunter’s stew is legendary,”
Regan replied with a broad grin. Hearing some muttering, he looked over
sternly at Dan. “What did you say?” “I said, I hope it’s not made out of real hunters.”
Dan’s stomach flip-flopped as Regan
eased the station wagon onto the piece of land that vaguely resembled a graveled
driveway. He glanced out the car window at a rustic log cabin that looked
like something from the pioneer days. The home didn’t look very big; of
course, compared to his cell at St. Mark’s, it was huge. A stone chimney
climbed the left side of the house, and Dan noticed a huge cloud of smoke
billowing out the top. Although he hated to admit it, the place looked cozy
and even inviting. As the teenager got out of the car,
a tall elderly man with snow-white hair stepped from the house and onto the
small porch. He held up a gnarled hand in greeting. Dan had to raise his
brows as he appraised his new guardian’s outfit. The senior citizen was clad
in a thick, green cable-knit turtleneck sweater, tan flannel knickers, and
hunting boots. Mr. Maypenny’s outfit resembled an eclectic combination of
fisherman, old-fashioned golfer, and hunter. In all his fifteen years, Dan
had never seen someone dressed so strangely.
While Regan walked over to the
porch, Dan hurried to get his bag from the back. He spent a bit more time
than necessary gathering his sparse belongings, keeping one eye on his duffel
bag and the other on the pair in front of the house. “Hey, Dan!” Regan called over to
him. “You get lost over there? C’mon!” Grumbling under his breath, Dan
slung his bag over his shoulder and trudged over to his uncle and his new
landlord. His back was slouched over and his head was tilted toward the
ground, the leather band of his peaked black hat shielding his face. Regan cleared his throat nervously.
“Dan, this is Mr. Maypenny. He’s kindly offered to take you in.” When Dan
didn’t move, his redheaded uncle peeked over at him out of the corner of his
eye. Subtly poking the teenager in the arm with his elbow, Regan murmured,
“Say hello, Dan.” With his face still turned downward,
Dan mumbled a barely discernable greeting. He wasn’t prepared for what
happened next. “Speak up, boy,” Mr. Maypenny
barked. His mustached mouth was pinched with irritation. “Don’t you want to
be heard? A man should speak with confidence, and if you can’t speak that
way, maybe you should remain silent.” Surprised, Dan whipped his head up
to look at the old man, surprise etched on his features. “Stand up straight,” Mr. Maypenny
ordered, making a down-and-up motion with one of his gnarled hands. “You look
like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, bent over with that bag on your back like
that.” Mouth agape, Dan did as Mr. Maypenny
said, more out of shock than obedience. “And close your mouth, son. You look
like a fish.” Wordlessly, Dan clamped his lips
together. Regan covered his mouth with one
freckled hand, trying to hide his amused grin. Mr. Maypenny stuck out one hand to
Dan, who stared at the old man a bit quizzically. Sighing heavily, Mr.
Maypenny gave his hand a wiggle. “Don’t you know how to shake hands, boy?” Dan tenuously clasped the hand that
was offered to him; however, he was so astonished by Mr. Maypenny’s actions
that he could barely grip his fingers around the old man’s. “Shake like a man, Daniel,” Mr. Maypenny
commanded sternly. “It feels like I’ve got a dead fish in my hand. People
remember a good, firm shake. Like this.” He proceeded to give Dan an example
of “a good, firm shake”. Dan practically yelped as the old
man squeezed his hand tightly. Mr. Maypenny had surprising power for a man of
his vintage. Dan tried to wiggle his hand away, but his fingers remained
firmly enveloped by Mr. Maypenny’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,
Daniel,” Mr. Maypenny greeted politely. Dan’s eyes were fastened on the ground
below. “Pleasure to meet you, too,” he muttered. “Look me in the eye,” Mr. Maypenny
directed, his voice a little more gentle but authoritative nonetheless. “My
father once told me that a man could always
look those to which he spoke in the eye if his conscience were clean.” Hesitantly, Dan lifted his chin to
look at the taller man. His sullen, onyx-colored eyes met sparkling gray
ones. Mr. Maypenny’s face was weather-beaten, but kind. By the ruddy tones of
his skin, it appeared he spent a lot of time outdoors. His forehead had deep
creases, and several laugh lines accentuated the corners of his eyes. The
twinkling eyes and rugged jaw hinted that he had been a ladies’ man years
ago. However, a long, beak-like nose would have kept him from being considered
conventionally handsome, even in his youth. He was several inches taller than
Dan, and though he was haggard and thin, wiry arms hinted at the strength the
teenager had already witnessed during their handshake. “Welcome to my home, such as it is,”
Mr. Maypenny told him kindly. “I’m mighty proud that a fine, young man like
Regan here would entrust his only nephew to my care. I’ll do my best to make
sure you’re well-fed, healthy, and strong.” “What about happy?” Dan prompted
sarcastically, a smug expression on his face. “Well, that’s up to you, son,” Mr.
Maypenny responded. “I can take care of the outside of your body, but the
inside’s up to you.” Dan clearly had been put in his
place. The smirk disappeared and was replaced by a scowl. “Who’s hungry?” Mr. Maypenny asked,
in an attempt to change the subject. “I’ve got a fresh pot of hunter’s stew
bubbling on the stove, warm homemade bread cooling on the counter, and peach
cobbler just begging to hop in my belly.” “That sure does sound good, Mr.
Maypenny,” Regan began, “but I’d better be going. I’ve been away from the
horses all day, and it’ll be time for their evening meal before you know it.
Besides, you and Dan need to get to know one another.” “As do you and Daniel.” Mr. Maypenny’s tone was polite, but his message
was clear. “Perhaps next time you’ll
be able to join us.” “I’ll be over as soon as you invite
me,” Regan agreed a bit sheepishly. “Then we’ll see you Thursday,” Mr.
Maypenny said. Although he was smiling, his tone made it clear that he meant
business. “That should work well, since you’re off on Fridays. No need to get
up early the following morning. We’ll have lots of time to chat in front of
the fireplace, and better make one’s acquaintance.” Regan nodded. “Thursday will be
good. I’ll be looking forward to it.” A sound resembling a snicker came
from Dan, but the snickering ceased once he received a stern glare from Mr.
Maypenny. “If you need me for any reason, just
holler. I’ll be either in the stable or at the apartment.” Regan turned his
full attention to Dan, placing a firm hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “You do
what Mr. Maypenny tells you. I’d hate to have to get up in the middle of the
night and take you back to St. Mark’s because you’ve copped an attitude.” Dan looked up, his dark eyes wide with
surprise. “You’d do that?” “Try me,” Regan challenged. His tone
was not nasty, but it was clear he was serious. “Now, Regan,” Mr. Maypenny replied,
his whiskers twitching. “There’s no need to threaten the boy. I’m sure after a
few days of Maypenny Boot Camp, he’ll be a model prisoner.” Dan looked over at the old man to
see if he was joking; he gulped loudly as he took in Mr. Maypenny’s evil
smirk. Feeling a little apprehensive
himself, Regan cleared his throat. “If you need any money for school stuff,
you let me know.” “You’ll give me money?” Dan
questioned hopefully, one dark eyebrow raised in skepticism. Regan shook his head. “I’ll take you
to the store to buy whatever you need. In fact, why don’t I pick you up
Friday after school so you can buy some new clothes?” “My clothes are fine!” Dan
thundered. Regan sighed wearily and placed his
freckled hands on his hips. It was apparent he was quickly losing patience
with his nephew. “Wear what you want. But before you leave for school in the
morning, make sure you’ve taken black shoe polish and painted over those
white letters on the back of your leather jacket.” “Why?” Dan lifted his chin in
defiance. “Gotta problem with cowhands?” “No,” Regan said, his tone growing
weary. “But I do have issues with
no-good kids who want to ruin my nephew’s life. When I see you tomorrow, I
expect to see that gang name covered up.” “Fine,” Dan conceded, albeit
reluctantly. He exhaled loudly to show that although he would do what his
uncle had asked, he wouldn’t like it. “I’ll be here bright and early
tomorrow morning so I can drive you two to catch the bus for school,” Regan
said. “ ‘You two?’ ” Dan repeated in
disbelief. He peeked over at his strangely-dressed guardian. “Why does he have to go?” “Mr. Maypenny will make sure you get
on the bus and make it all the way to school,” Regan explained. “Then he’ll
get you enrolled in Sleepyside Junior-Senior High. The office will be
expecting you. I’ve made arrangements with a man who works at the bank to
bring Mr. Maypenny home during his lunch break.” Dan’s lower lip protruded in what
could almost be construed as a pout. “Why can’t you take me? You’re my
uncle.” “Dan, I’ve explained this to you a
thousand times,” Regan said, frowning. “For right now, it’s best that the
kids around here don’t know that you’re my nephew.” “You ashamed of me?” Dan’s coal
black eyes sparked with challenge. “Of course not,” Regan answered
impatiently. “I talked to my boss, Mr. Wheeler, about you already. I felt it
was best to be up front and honest with him about your past.” “Who else have you told?” Dan’s dark
eyes were now flashing with anger. “Have you hired a plane to skywrite it at
school tomorrow?” Regan drew a hesitant breath and ran
his fingers through his copper-colored hair. “I only told the people that I
thought needed to know. I talked to Mr. Wheeler, along with Mr. Maypenny and
Mr. and Mrs. Belden.” “Who’re they?” Dan demanded loudly. “Some nice people who I went to for
advice,” Regan said. “I talked to Mrs. Belden and told her that she could
tell her husband.” “How do you know she won’t blab it
over the whole country?” Dan questioned, his tone expressing hurt. “I wouldn’t have talked to her about
it if she was a gossip,” Regan retorted a bit crossly. “I know Mrs. B. pretty
good, and if she says she won’t tell something, she won’t. I trust her.” “Good to know you trust someone,” Dan mumbled under his
breath. “Dan, once you’re here for awhile
and we know that you’re on the straight and narrow, I’ll be sure and hire that
airplane to skywrite it all over Sleepyside that you’re my nephew. Until
then, it might be best just to keep that fact to ourselves.” Regan looked at
the teenager imploringly. “Please, Dan?” “I won’t say a word,” Dan agreed
reluctantly. “Besides, I’m not all that sure that I want to claim you.” “Fair enough,” Regan said, the
corners of his lips twitching as he fought the urge to smile. “Then it’s settled,” Mr. Maypenny
broke in, hoping to keep the two temperamental relatives from arguing further.
“Regan, we’ll be waiting here at Regan nodded, and then added, “And
Dan will black out that stupid gang name—” “It’s not stupid!” Dan stormed. Mr. Maypenny held up a hand to
silence him. “And Dan will paint over the name of his former gang, because that part of his life is over, and we want
to see him make a fresh start.” The two Irishmen hung their heads
guiltily. “Now Regan,” Mr. Maypenny began,
“unless you’ve changed your mind about joining us for dinner, you’d better
get back to Manor House and tend to those horses. If my nostrils serve me
correctly, our dinner is ready.” “I’ll be going then.” Regan cast his
nephew an entreating glance. “Dan, I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t give Mr.
Maypenny any trouble.” “I said I wouldn’t,” Dan snapped.
“He’ll be fine, Regan,” Mr. Maypenny
assured firmly. “I’ve minded a child or two in my day, and although I’m
several years older now, I still know how to use a willow switch. Daniel may
be able to outrun me, but I’ve got the knowledge of the preserve on my side.
He could run, but he couldn’t hide.” Dan peeked warily over at the old
man, not knowing what to think about his humor. Never in his life had he met
a character like Mr. Maypenny, and he was rather taken aback. In contrast, Regan chuckled at the
statement; he’d seen the twinkle in Mr. Maypenny’s eyes, but he wasn’t about
to tell Dan that. However, the red-haired groom was confident that, if need
be, in spite of Mr. Maypenny’s age, he was quite capable of keeping his
nephew in line. With a parting wave, Regan walked back to the station wagon. Mr. Maypenny had noticed Dan was
watching his uncle’s departure a bit wistfully and placed his arm around the
young man’s shoulder in a slightly protective manner. Dan, used to strange
adults shying away from him, found that type of familiar gesture unnerving.
Although he attempted to back away, the old man didn’t budge from his
sheltering stance. “C’mon inside, lad, and I’ll show
you around.” Mr. Maypenny removed his arm from around Dan’s shoulders and
motioned towards the door of the cabin. Dan nodded in agreement and followed
the old man in the house. Once inside, he looked around curiously, appraising
his new digs. “I’d wait until after supper to give
you the grand tour, but seeing as how there isn’t much, it shouldn’t take
long.” Mr. Maypenny chuckled. “This is the living room/kitchen/dining room.
As you can see, it’s nothing fancy, but it’s been a good, comfortable home to
me for over forty years.” “It’s okay,” Dan said with a shrug.
Although his tone implied that he wasn’t impressed with the abode, that
couldn’t be farther from the truth. He looked admiringly through the house,
studying the construction with great fascination. Thick cedar beams formed
the ceiling of the cabin, while pine wood planks, set at an angle, gave the
rustic interior walls an outdoorsy feel. Even the floors were made from wood;
three-inch wide slats of knotty pine lumber were laid with fastidious care throughout
the floors of the house. The kitchen was in the very back of
the cabin. Though it was small, delicious smells emanated from that part of
the dwelling. The stove and refrigerator were akin to dinosaurs from decades
past, but they seemed to be in working order. Above the sink, there was a
small window overlooking the large garden outside. Past the kitchen was a
tiny workspace, an old-fashioned ringer washer and a slightly more modern
dryer taking up most of the space. There was a small dining area off to
the left, where a table with four chairs sat in the middle of the space. It
was already neatly set for three, although Dan noted that one place setting
would not be needed. An antique china cabinet stood against a wall,
containing a set of blue dishes that looked very old. On either side of the
cabinet stood a chair that could be brought to the table if more seats were
needed. From the ceiling above the table, a chandelier fashioned out of
antlers hung down. Against the other free wall, there was a large, black
wood-burning stove. Dan’s eyes then studied the living
room in which he stood. A plaid couch and chair, made out of a sturdy tweed
material, were positioned in an L-shape around the stone fireplace. A simple
coffee table was placed in front of the couch, a large Family Bible on top.
Above the stone hearth, a huge twelve-point buck’s head hung, regally looking
out over the room’s inhabitants. Several other pictures, as well as a stuffed
bigmouth bass, graced other walls in the space. Suddenly seeing something
amiss, Dan’s eyebrows drew together in a knot above the bridge of his nose. “Where’s the TV?” “The what?” Mr. Maypenny inquired as
if he hadn’t understood the words Dan spoke. “The television,” Dan clarified.
“Don’t you have one?” “Of course,” Mr. Maypenny answered
matter-of-factly. “Well, where is it?” “Out in the shed behind the cabin,”
Mr. Maypenny replied. “It hasn’t worked for over twenty years, and I pile
things up on it in my building.” “Didn’t you get a new one when the
old one stopped working?” Dan asked, surprised that anyone would be able to
live without a television for two decades. “Don’t need one,” Mr. Maypenny
responded with a shrug. “Couldn’t get the blasted antenna to pick up anything
decent out here anyway.” He turned and walked over to a door beyond the
dining room. “This here’s my bedroom,” Mr.
Maypenny continued. He opened the door so Dan could look inside. “If you ever
need me, day or night, I’ll be here. Just be sure to knock first, in case I’m
entertaining a young lady.” The old man laughed uproariously, as
if he’d just thought up the funniest joke ever told. Dan smiled nervously and
glanced around the room. A neatly made queen-sized bed, a four-drawer dresser,
and a matching nightstand were the only furniture in the room. A hooked rug
in primary colors was placed in the center of the floor, giving the space a
cozy appearance. “Nice furniture,” Dan commented,
forgetting to maintain his surly attitude. He rubbed the fine maple wood of
the four-poster bed appreciatively. “Thank you, lad. I made that
myself,” Mr. Maypenny told him, without a trace of arrogance. He led the way
out of that room and opened a door past the living room. “This is the
bathroom. Nothing fancy, but a heap better than the outhouse I used to have.
Actually, I’d still have that, but Bobby Belden almost fell down in the
toilet a few times, and I sure
wouldn’t want to go rescue him.” Silently, Dan counted his blessings
that the bathroom had been constructed before his arrival. He nodded in
approval as he beheld the bathtub with its hunter green shower curtain, the
toilet, and the small sink by the door. The only decoration in this room was
a bath rug. Their final stop on the tour took
them to the western-most room of the cabin. “This’ll be your bedroom,
Daniel.” Mr. Maypenny stepped aside and motioned for Dan to go ahead of him. Dan walked in the room, not knowing
what to expect. However, after a quick appraisal, he was pleasantly surprised.
A full-sized bed stood with its headboard against a window. It was crafted of
oak and crafted so that it doubled as a bookcase. Several books were placed
on the shelf, as well as an old-fashioned alarm clock and a tiny lamp that
could be used for reading. A hunter green quilt, with faint pine trees
embroidered on it in white thread, was placed neatly atop the bed. An antique
highboy was on one wall, and a small desk on another. The closet door was
open and ready for Dan to hang his clothes inside. Another hooked rug in
different shades of green sat in front of the bed. “Hope it suits you,” Mr. Maypenny
said. “It’s nice,” Dan told him. Compared
to his room in the cramped apartment in “Feel free to put your clothes in
the dresser and the closet,” Mr. Maypenny offered. “All I ask is that you
keep it tidy in here. I’m an old man who’s set in his ways. I’ll get mighty
upset if I see a pair of dirty underwear hanging on the doorknob.” Dan smiled slightly. “I’ll keep it
neat.” “Well, that’s about it,” Mr.
Maypenny said, slapping his hands against his funny-looking knickers. “Are
you hungry?” The teenager nodded in reply. Mr. Maypenny led the way into the
kitchen and motioned for him to sit down at the dining room table. “Go ahead
and sit down, Daniel. Tomorrow, you’ll begin your chores, but tonight, you’re
my special guest.” In no time at all, Mr. Maypenny had
laden the small table with many delicious-looking things: a basketful of
warm, crusty homemade bread, a small crock of freshly churned butter, a jar
of crabapple jelly, a pitcher of iced tea, and the “legendary” hunter’s stew
of which Regan spoke. After they had filled their plates, Dan hungrily
scooped up a bite of stew. Just as he began to chew, he heard Mr. Maypenny
clear his throat. “Dear Lord, we thank you for this
day.” Dan ceased his chewing, and peeked
across the table. Mr. Maypenny’s head was bowed, his eyes closed, and his
hands clasped in front of his plate. He quickly imitated the old man,
swallowing whole the bite of stew he had in his mouth. “Thank you for bringing Daniel to
this house. Give him a peace that can only come from you. I pray you grant
Regan wisdom as he takes on the responsibility of raising his young nephew,
and please be with me as well. Bless this food to our bodies, and thank you
for your promise of provision. In Jesus’ name we pray, Amen.” “Amen,” Dan whispered. He waited
until Mr. Maypenny took a bite, and then he followed suit, taking time to
savor it this time. If nothing else, the food was good
here.
The next morning a banging on his
bedroom door roused Dan from a sound sleep. With a groan, he folded the
pillow around his ears in an attempt to block it out; however, the banging
not only continued, it got louder and more persistent. Dan peeked up sleepily
at the alarm clock. “I’m still sleeping,” he mumbled
with a yawn. Suddenly, the door whooshed open and
Mr. Maypenny stepped inside. “Rise and shine, Daniel!” As if the noise was
not bad enough, the old man flipped the light switch. The room was
illuminated, 75 watts’ worth. The teenager moaned, burying his
face in the mattress underneath him. “Go away,” he muttered sleepily. “It’s
only “No, that means you only have a
little over two hours to do your chores, eat a hardy breakfast, and clean
up,” Mr. Maypenny corrected. Dan looked up, his brow furrowed in
surprise. “Chores?” “Yes, I told you last night that
you’d begin your chores tomorrow, which is today,” Mr. Maypenny explained
cheerfully. “So get out of that bed before I bring in the water hose.” “You wouldn’t,” Dan dared, his tone
doubtful. “I would and I have.” Mr.
Maypenny’s smile was the smile of the truly evil. “The water hose I use in my
garden is directly outside your window. Considering that it’s almost freezing
outside right now, that water will be mighty nippy.” “Aw, it’s probably frozen.” Dan laid
his head back on his pillow. Mr. Maypenny shook his head, the
wicked grin still planted firmly on his lips. “Oh, no. I bought a special
kind that’s insulated. It’s guaranteed not to freeze up. Now get out of bed.
I’d hate to buy a new mattress because I’ve soaked that one. In fact, that’s why I had to buy the one on
your bed now…” Quick as a wink, Dan bolted out of
bed with newfound zeal. He shivered as the cold air hit his bare legs. “Get dressed and then come on into
the kitchen,” Mr. Maypenny said. “It’s warmer in there by the stove.” Dan hurriedly found his standard
attire: tight black jeans, a white T-shirt, cowboy boots, and his black
leather jacket. As he pulled on the jacket, he looked at it a bit mournfully.
As previously instructed, his old affiliation had been blotted over by black
polish. Deep down, he knew that he needed to get away from the Cowhands;
however, there didn’t appear to be anyone else who cared about him. Regan sure don’t give a rip about me,
he mused mournfully. That thought saddened him more than he cared to admit. He clomped out into the main room of
the house, more delicious smells tantalizing his senses. As he sat down at
the table, Mr. Maypenny brought him a plate heaped with sausage, scrambled
eggs, hash browns, and toast. A glass of orange juice was already waiting for
him at his designated spot at the table. Dan inhaled deeply. He’d never
smelled anything so good in his entire life. His mother, bless her soul, was
a loving, caring, generous woman, but cooking wasn’t among her many talents.
Her specialties were TV dinners, frozen pizzas, canned soup, slightly burned
toast, and Little Debbie snack cakes. Although Dan was starving, he wasn’t
going to be fooled again. He didn’t so much as pick up his fork, waiting for
Mr. Maypenny to join him and ask the blessing on the food. He looked into the
kitchen and noticed the old man was standing in front of the sink. “Aren’t
you eating?” he inquired, more from impatience to eat than consideration. “I already ate,” Mr. Maypenny
answered. “I’m just cleaning up some of these dishes before I take you
outside.” Dan briefly wondered what they would
be doing outside, particularly in the dark, snowy, freezing weather. With a
shrug, he dismissed it from his mind and enjoyed his breakfast. Fifteen minutes later, after a
scolding from Mr. Maypenny about how impractical his cowboy boots were for
traipsing around the snowy woods, Dan was hopping up and down in the cold
arctic weather trying to keep warm. Mr. Maypenny had asked him to go on
outside, and he would be out there momentarily. Hearing the sound of
crunching snow behind him, Dan turned his head, gasping at what his eyes saw.
The sight before him reaffirmed his previous suspicions. Mr. Maypenny was an ax murderer! The strange old man swaggered
towards him, his evil grin planted firmly in place. He was clad in a heavy
flannel winter coat, a furry cap that had flaps to protect his ears from the
cold, and thick, woolen gloves. And in those gloved hands was an ax, which
appeared to be something out of medieval days. Dan practically expected to
see dried blood covering the blade, leftover from his past kills. Mr. Maypenny swung his weapon a few
times, almost as if he were warming up before the murdering spree began.
Dan’s eyes bugged out of his head. He wondered briefly if he should turn tail
and run, but the old man’s ominous warning the previous night echoed in his
mind. He can run,
but he can’t hide. Dan stifled a scream as Mr. Maypenny
walked closer to him. He decided to take his chances with the forest, but
when he tried to move, he found that he was frozen to the spot. He
practically collapsed in relief as the old man handed the fierce-looking
weapon out to him. Not taking the gift horse by the mouth, Dan quickly
accepted the ax. The weight of the tool surprised him. “What’s this?” he asked tenuously. “Don’t they teach you kids anything
in the city?” Mr. Maypenny sighed in exasperation, obviously believing the
city slicker standing in front of him had never before seen any of the
equipment used in the country. “Well, I know it’s an ax,” Dan replied with a roll of his eyes. “I just
don’t know what you want me to do with it.” “That’s
where you’re wrong,” Mr. Maypenny corrected, smiling smugly. “This is a maul, not an ax.” Dan made a big show of rolling his
eyes again, this time accompanying it with a labored sigh. “What’s the
difference? I mean, who really cares?” “I care, and for that matter, you should care, too,” Mr. Maypenny
snapped. “Axes are used for cutting
and chopping, and mauls, or
splitting wedges, are used for splitting wood into pieces.” Dan merely shrugged his shoulders.
“So? I don’t see why that matters to me. You can’t expect me to go out and
chop down some tree.” “Of course not,” Mr. Maypenny answered,
that wicked smile not budging an inch. “I’m far too cautious to send a novice
lumberjack into the dark woods, daybreak an hour away. You’d probably cut off
one of your feet.” Dan wasn’t sure, but he thought
there was an insult veiled somewhere in that statement. He looked down at the
heavy maul he held in his hands, a puzzled expression clouding his sullen
features. “So, why did you give me this? Just to show me that I didn’t know
the difference between a fu…er, freakin’
ax and maul?” “Come with me, Daniel.” Dan warily followed the old man down
a path. A thousand crazy thoughts flitted through his mind, all of them
highly implausible but extremely frightening nonetheless. I never should’ve watched all those
flippin’ horror movies, he mused wryly, wondering if Mr. Maypenny was
some sort of lunatic mentor for serial killers. However, instead of some dank, dark,
killing chamber, the old man led him to a large three-sided shed. A slanted
tin roof kept the things under it reasonably dry, and if any moisture managed
to seep through, the shed’s contents had been placed under a big blue tarp.
Mr. Maypenny pulled on a string which hung from the ceiling, turning on a
light bulb high above. Then, he pulled the tarp away, revealing hundreds of
logs. “Wow,” Dan murmured. “That’s a lot
of wood. Why do you need so much of it?” “Daniel, if you haven’t noticed, our
cabin is heated by the fireplace in the living area, as well as by the stove
in the dining area. Another stove outside powers a huge generator, which gives
us electricity. All of which use wood. And, in case you don’t know, there’s a
shortage of suicidal trees in this area, lining up to offer themselves as
sacrifices to our stove gods.” Dan failed to see the humor in Mr.
Maypenny’s diatribe. “Well, I know
wood doesn’t just hop in the box by the stove.” “Then you probably also know that
these huge logs won’t fit into any of the aforementioned stoves,” Mr.
Maypenny cracked dryly. “We need to split them. Or rather, you need to split them.” Dan’s eyes widened, and then shot
over to stare at the old man in disbelief. “What’re you talking about?” “Daniel, I agreed to let you live
here on the one condition that you work,” Mr. Maypenny explained. “As a boy,
I was taught that if a man didn’t work, then neither would he eat. In this
case, that lesson is particularly true. If you want heat, food, light, and
hot water, you will split these
logs.” “I don’t know how,” Dan admitted
with a scowl. Silently, Mr. Maypenny took the
splitting wedge from Dan. He selected a log from the pile and walked over to
the large, round stump. He placed the log onto the stump, standing it
upright. He planted his feet but kept his body limber, making sure Dan saw
him do this. With the strength of a man half his age, he swung the heavy maul
back over his head, and then brought it down with a whoosh. The log split into two pieces, both having fallen onto
the ground. He picked up one of the halves, made a point of showing it to
Dan, and then placed it upright on his “anvil”. With just as much power as
before, he cut that piece in half as well. After the entire log was
quartered, he handed the maul back to Dan. “Ignorance can no longer be your
excuse,” Mr. Maypenny informed him. Although Dan had skipped school more
often than he had attended the past two years, he was an intelligent person.
He leveled his eyes at the taller man, his spine stiffened in challenge. “Are
you calling me stupid?” Mr. Maypenny calmly shook his head,
his smile not moving an inch. “There’s a difference between ‘ignorance’ and
‘stupidity’,” he said sagely. “Ignorance is a lack of knowledge. For example,
I’m ignorant about finding my way through the streets of Dan bristled past the old man and
wrenched the splitting maul out of his gnarled hands. “I’m not ignorant or stupid,” he snapped. “I’ll show you a thing or two about cutting
wood.” Mr. Maypenny stepped aside and
motioned for Dan to proceed. He watched wordlessly as the young man mimicked
his actions. However, Dan neglected one important step. He mustered all his power to raise
the heavy maul behind his head, gripping the handle more tightly than
necessary. Forgetting to keep his body relaxed, he aimed for his target, swinging
down with great, uncontrolled force. However, he missed both the log and the
tree stump anvil, instead hitting the ground with the splitting wedge. The
jarring blow caused him to stagger sideways, and as his feet stumbled around,
they crossed paths with a stray log. He ended in an undignified heap on the
ground, thankfully keeping the maul a safe distance from his body. Mr. Maypenny didn’t say a word. He
walked over to the disgruntled teenager and stuck out his gnarled hand in an
offer to help Dan to his feet. Dan, a trail of obscenities being
hurled under his breath, ignored the old man’s hand and stood on his own.
“Stupid ax, errr, maul,” he said out loud. “Didn’t swing right.” “I believe the error laid in the
hands of the one wielding the tool, rather than it the tool itself,” Mr.
Maypenny observed. Dan glared at over at him, his coal
black eyes shooting daggers. He swaggered back over to the tree stump, trying
to ignore the pain in his hip where he’d landed on a rock. Angry with Mr.
Maypenny, the maul, the log, and life in general, he swung the splitting
wedge powerfully, putting all his rage into his actions. However, his
undisciplined swing caused the metal bit to hit the log at an angle, causing
the wood to go tumbling off the tree stump. The bit bounced off the anvil,
onto the ground below. After two mighty swings with the maul, the log
remained untouched. Dan stomped over to where the
splitting wedge had landed and picked it up, whispering every vulgarity known
to man as well as a few that he invented. He stalked back to the anvil, but
as he raised the maul, Mr. Maypenny stopped him. “Set your feet, Daniel, but don’t
stiffen your body,” Mr. Maypenny instructed. “Keep it relaxed and limber.
Grip the handle firmly, not tightly, so you’ll retain control.” Dan silently did as the old man
ordered. “Now, before you swing, concentrate
on the log you wish to split,” Mr. Maypenny continued. “Swing with strength,
but focus your power. Visualize the log splitting into two pieces.” With a determined expression, Dan
did exactly as Mr. Maypenny said. He concentrated hard, and then swung
downwards with the maul. Although the wedge bit hit the log slightly at an
angle, a good-sized hunk of wood was knocked loose. He looked up at the old
man, a proud expression on his face. “I did it,” he murmured in surprise. “Yes.” Mr. Maypenny didn’t bother
telling the young man that a chip off the old block didn’t constitute a
successful blow with the maul. He wanted to raise the boy’s confidence, not
crush them entirely. “Try it again, Daniel,” he
encouraged. “Except this time, make sure you aim the maul bit directly in the
center of the log. Remember to concentrate and focus.” Biting his lip, Dan followed the
directions to a T. This time when the maul came down, it split the log into
two perfectly even pieces. “Whoo-hoo!” Dan whooped, raising the
splitting wedge in jubilation. “Look at that!” “Very good, Daniel,” Mr. Maypenny
congratulated. He walked over to the teenager and placed a hand on his
shoulder. “As you continue, keep in mind that chopping wood is a lot like
life. To be successful, one must stay relaxed, clear one’s mind of all
distraction so one can focus on the task at hand, concentrate upon one’s
goal, and strike with controlled power.” He pointed one gnarled hand at the
pile of logs. “Chopping a load of firewood is your goal for now, Daniel, but
each log symbolizes something greater. It pictures your life. You haven’t had
it easy so far, son. I’m not some old, naïve man; although you weren’t
responsible for all of your
hardships, you were responsible for
some. Bettering yourself won’t be easy, especially if you’re stiff,
undisciplined, unfocused, and filled with rage.” Dan’s sullen eyes turned to Mr.
Maypenny. His face was clouded with confusion. “You know what happened to me.
How can you expect me not to be angry?” “Oh, I expect you to be angry,” Mr.
Maypenny clarified. “However, I don’t expect that fury to rule you. Use your
anger in a constructive manner; channel those vengeful feelings to your
strength, your determination, your resolve. Don’t allow yourself to be ruled
by rage, or else you’ll stagger and miss the target. Only when your temper’s
in check will you be able to reach your goal.” Dan nodded thoughtfully. “Try it again,” Mr. Maypenny
directed. “And this time, pretend the wood is the goal you most want to
attain.” Taking a deep breath, Dan looked
down at the log, projecting his feelings about life onto the log sitting on
the anvil. With each swing, his task grew easier. Log after log, he worked
until it was almost time to meet Regan.
Later that evening, an angry Dan slammed the door leading into the
cozy cabin. He looked up into the disapproving eyes of Mr. Maypenny. “There you are, Daniel,” the old man
greeted. “I’ve been worried about you.” However, the sound of female chatter
coming from outside distracted Dan and he forgot to reply. “There are some birdfeeders that I
need to fill up, as well as—” “I’ll do it,” Dan interrupted,
hoping he could disappear before Mr. Maypenny’s guests arrived. He had little
desire to talk to either of them again after the incident with Susie a few
minutes ago. “That’ll be fine, Daniel, but before
you go, I have—” “I know where the feed is,” Dan
broke in as he walked towards the back of the house. “I saw it earlier this
morning. I’ll follow the trails to the feeders.” Before Mr. Maypenny could finish his
thought, he heard the back door in the tiny utility room slam shut.
Scratching his chin thoughtfully, he went on into the kitchen to stir the
cocoa he had cooking on the stove; he thought for sure Dan would want some
after his long walk home. It wasn’t long until Trixie and
Honey stopped by to look at his almanac. The Bob-Whites were planning a
fundraiser and needed to know what would be the best day to schedule it. It
was on the tip of Mr. Maypenny’s tongue to ask the girls if Daniel could help
with their event, but he felt Trixie acted a bit peculiar when she mentioned
that she’d met the boy at school. The girls’ visit didn’t last long; as
usual, they, Trixie in particular, were a whirlwind of activity and had to
leave for home. Trixie and Honey didn’t notice the
angry glare, watching them from the woods as they rode away from the cabin.
Dan had finished filling the birdfeeders and was waiting for them to leave so
he could go back inside. Seeing the girls again refueled Dan’s temper, and he
marched into the house, blazing with fury. “Daniel?” Mr. Maypenny’s voice was
well-modulated, although it was obvious that he wasn’t pleased with the boy’s
behavior. “When you’re closing the back door, a gentle push will suffice.” “Sorry,” Dan mumbled, his voice not
sounding very contrite. “We had visitors while you were
away,” Mr. Maypenny told him. “Trixie Belden and Honey Wheeler. They
mentioned meeting you at school.” “They met me, all right,” Dan
growled. “If you ask me, they’re two spoiled little bi—” “Don’t say what I think you’re going to say, Daniel,”
Mr. Maypenny interrupted, his gray eyes steely and his voice stern. “Those
sweet, little girls mean a lot to me, and the next time you even begin to call them a vulgar name, I’ll
wash your mouth out with soap. And not with that store-bought kind, either.” Dan sighed loudly, his gaze
downward. “They may be sweet to you, but they don’t like me much. And neither
does their good-lookin’ little black-headed friend.” “And did you show yourself
friendly?” Mr. Maypenny inquired pointedly.
Dan shrugged in response. “Then you have no right to
complain.” Mr. Maypenny stared hard at the young man. “Didn’t you make any
friends today?” “A couple,” Dan muttered. “Tim
Cramer and Bruce Finley.” Mr. Maypenny pursed his lips in
disapproval. “I’ve heard of those boys. They’re nothing but trouble, and you
should stay away from them. What did you think of the Bob-Whites?” “Those dorks with the matching red
jackets?” Dan hooted. “How dumb can you get?” “The Cowhands wore matching
jackets,” Mr. Maypenny commented. Dan rewarded him with a scowl. “That’s different.” “Of course it is.” Mr. Maypenny
smiled knowingly. “I know you aren’t fond of either Trixie or Honey yet, but
what about the others?” “That blond kid was okay,” Dan
answered half-heartedly. “Martin Belden?” Dan nodded in response. “He kinda talked too
much, but I s’pose he was friendly enough.” “Mart’s a very nice young man,” Mr.
Maypenny agreed. “I’ve found that he tends to talk when he’s nervous. If you
give him a chance, I’m sure you’ll find him to be a good companion.” “Whatever,” Dan muttered, rolling
his eyes in disbelief. “What did you think of the older
Belden boy, Brian?” Dan snorted scornfully. “Do you mean
the cocky dark-haired “Well, that’s who I was talking
about, although I wouldn’t describe Brian in that particular manner,” Mr.
Maypenny replied evenly. “Maybe when you meet the other boy who hangs around
the Bob-Whites— Jim Frayne’s his name— you’ll feel more comfortable around
them. You and Jim have a lot in common, you know. He was on a field trip
today, but I’m sure you’ll meet him on the bus tomorrow.” “If you’re talking about the redheaded dude
that looked like an advertisement for American Eagle with his plaid shirt and
yuppie brown leather boots, then you can forget it.” Dan snarled his lips to
show his disfavor. “I saw his picture and name slapped all over the Honor
Roll bulletin board in the hallway at school.” “Jim and Brian are very nice young
men who would be your friends, if
you’d give them half a chance,” Mr. Maypenny pointed out. “Neither one of those do-gooders
would wanna have anything to do with me.”
Dan squared his shoulders in defiance, raising his chin obstinately. “That
dumb club took one look at my jacket and decided I was bad news.” “And yet you took one look at Jim’s clothes
in the picture and decided he was a ‘yuppie’, and that the Bob-Whites were
‘dorks’ because of their matching jackets.” Dan’s eyes hardened into chips of
steel, displeasure etched on his square jaw. He hated it when the old man was
right, and he was quickly discovering that Mr. Maypenny was correct more
often than not. “Daniel, I think it’d be wise for
you to go outside and chop some wood.” “After all the work I did this
morning?” Dan asked with a groan. “My hands have blisters on them. My blisters have blisters.” “I think you need to remember what
we talked about earlier,” Mr. Maypenny remarked. “You know, the part about
controlling your temper.” With a weary sigh, Dan started for
the door. However, Mr. Maypenny halted his progress. “Before you go outside, there’s
something for you in your room, Daniel.” Furrowing his brow in confusion, Dan
changed direction and went into his room. There on the bed was a pair of
waterproof work boots, a pair of brown Carhartt© long-sleeved overalls, a
sturdy pair of matching gloves, and an insulated hat. “Thought you’d need some better
clothes for working outside in,” Mr. Maypenny said in an offhand manner from
behind him. “I know you don’t want any clothes for school, but I figured this
was different.” Dan studied at the items on the bed.
He’d heard of the brand before, and knew this stuff had to be expensive. “I
can’t accept these,” he choked out. “You can’t continue wearing your
school clothes outside,” Mr. Maypenny rationalized. “You’ll ruin them and be
forced to go shopping with Regan. Although I’m sure he could find a nice
Western shirt with fringes on it for you…” Dan made a slight gagging sound. He
looked back at the strange old man with whom he was staying. “Thank you,” he
said, a slight catch in his voice. “You’re welcome, Daniel. Put them
on, and then you can split some more firewood.” He turned and walked back
into the living room. Ten minutes later, clad in his new
work clothes, Dan prepared to attack a load of logs with a newfound zeal. As
he opened the back door, Mr. Maypenny’s voice stopped him. “Dinner will be ready in an hour.
I’ll call you before it’s ready so you can wash up.” “Okay,” Dan agreed. Mr. Maypenny stifled a smile as he
noticed that Dan’s tone was a bit less sullen. “And Daniel, if it makes you
feel better, Trixie didn’t like me very well either when we first met.” Dan nodded as he walked outside. It did make him feel better.
The next day at school was slightly
more peaceful than the previous one. Of course, that could’ve been due to the
fact that Dan ignored the Bob-Whites entirely and spent all his time with Tim
and Bruce. When he got home from school, he was surprised to see Mr. Maypenny
rocking in front of the fireplace reading the evening edition of the
Sleepyside Sun. Usually the old man was working in the kitchen preparing
supper. “Daniel,” Mr. Maypenny greeted,
looking up from the newspaper. “How was school today?” Dan shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” He
sniffed the air and was surprised to find that the room was free from the
aroma of food. “I suppose you’re wondering why you
don’t smell dinner cooking,” Mr. Maypenny surmised with a grin. “Sort of,” Dan answered honestly. If
nothing else, he did enjoy the food
here. Regan was right; Mr. Maypenny’s hunter’s stew was divine, no matter what it contained. Last night’s pinto
beans were quite good as well, and so was the sweet cornbread he’d made in a
heavy cast-iron skillet. “That’s easy to explain,” the old
man replied. “Tonight you are going
to cook supper, under my guidance of course.” Dan hooted with laughter. “Me? Cook?” “You learned how to split firewood,
didn’t you?” “Well, yeah, but that’s different. Cooking is woman’s work,” Dan scoffed. “Is that so?” Mr. Maypenny inquired,
quirking one white, bushy eyebrow skeptically. “Yeah.” Dan shifted nervously as he
felt Mr. Maypenny’s eyes boring into his very soul. “I’ll chop wood, fill
birdfeeders, and set out salt blocks, but cooking
is for girls.” “All right then,” Mr. Maypenny agreed,
a broad grin on his face. “You may go outside and do manly things.” He shook
his paper, rattling it a bit more than necessary, and returned to his
reading. Dan’s eyes narrowed, and although he
had permission to leave, he remained rooted to the spot, watching the old man
with great curiosity. After a moment or so, it became clear that Mr. Maypenny
wasn’t going to begin dinner preparations either. He cleared his throat,
trying to muster enough courage to question his guardian’s intentions. “Ummm… What’re you doing?” Dan asked
anxiously. Mr. Maypenny lowered the paper and
peered at Dan over the top, his old-fashioned half-glasses perched
precariously on the tip of his beaked nose. “What does it look like? I’m
reading the paper.” “Well, what about dinner?” “You said cooking was woman’s work,”
Mr. Maypenny stated matter-of-factly. “I’m waiting for the women to do it.
I’m sure whatever they make will be delicious.” Dan curiously glanced around the
cabin. “What women?” “The ones who’re going to cook our
dinner, lad.” “But there aren’t any women here,”
Dan pointed out. “Exactly.” Mr. Maypenny folded his
newspaper and neatly placed it on the coffee table. “Daniel, there are jobs
that need to be done each and every day. Yes, typically the women of the
household cook; however, some of the finest chefs I know are men.” “Yeah, but they get paid for it,”
Dan argued. “I know just as many who only cook
for their own enjoyment, and they do a marvelous job.” Mr. Maypenny stood up
and then walked over to Dan. “Your problem is pride, son. Cooking’s not only
for women. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been doing it ever since you got
here, and although I’m not the most debonair man around, I think it’s
apparent that I’m not a woman.” Dan had to smile in spite of
himself. “No, you’re definitely not
a woman.” “And do you question my
masculinity?” Dan glanced warily at Mr. Maypenny’s
sinewy arm muscles. Although he had to be in his early sixties, the old
geezer looked tougher than nails. “No, sir.” “Then get in the kitchen.” Swallowing his pride, Dan did just
as Mr. Maypenny ordered, and he did it quickly for good measure. With a look
of chagrin, he obediently tied the apron that the old man handed him around
his waist. For the next two hours, Dan learned
quite quickly that roasting a hunk of venison was just about as difficult as
hunting, shooting, and skinning the actual deer. He sliced his fingers
peeling potatoes, cried like a baby cutting up onions, grated his knuckles
removing the outer layer from some carrots, and burned his hand putting the
roasting pan into the oven. Cooking was war. Spying the young man’s look of
frustration, Mr. Maypenny chuckled. “Son, after dinner I think you need to go
chop wood.” “I think you’re right,” Dan wiping a
bead of sweat from his brow. Chopping wood sounded really good right about
now, especially compared to the prospect of finishing dinner. He’d rather
have a maul in his hands than a stirring spoon any day. Besides, Dan was kind of anxious to
get the hang of this wood-chopping thing.
A huge thank you to my lovely
editors, Kathy and Steph! You both do your jobs so well. What would I do
without you? Extra hugs going out to my other editor, Kaye, who’s on vacation
right now. Thanks for helping me with certain plot developments! Thank you to Terry for the
lovely pic of Dan at the top. It’s scrumptious! This story is dedicated to
all the devoted Dan fans out there. I hope you enjoy the many Dan-centered
upcoming features at The Cameo. The Wheelers’ station wagon
is a Subaru, as you read. I figured a four-wheel drive or all-wheel drive
vehicle would be necessary to get to Mr. Maypenny’s. Curious about Regan’s past?
More about that later… Mr. Maypenny is officially
one of my favorite characters for whom to write. I had fun with his razor
sharp wit, his experienced wisdom, his seemingly gruff attitude, and
especially his heart of gold. He took over the show, which is why this single
story turned into a three-part monster. Why was Dan so sullen when he
first arrived at Sleepyside? Hmm… Maybe The Cameo will feature a Dan Trilogy
someday and explain. *wink* “Through the Fire” coming soon to a computer
screen near you! Who did Mr. Maypenny douse
with the water hose? Just think about it and you’ll figure it out. Another
hint will be given in the Present installment. Thank you to Terry who
explained all I needed to know about chopping wood. I actually have chopped
firewood a time or two, but it’s been many years and my maul’s rather rusty. Curious about Dan’s past? You
should be, little ones. Mwah-ha-ha! You should be… Did you recognize the scene with
Trixie and Honey from Black Jacket? Tim Cramer and Bruce Finley
are creations of The Cameo. Remember those names. You’ll be reading them
again. *whistling airily* American Eagle is a store
that teenagers love, and I can totally see Jim shopping there, since the
clothes (and the store in general) look very outdoorsy. Carhartt© is a brand of
outdoor clothing, perfect for working outside in. Jim favors them as well in
the Future Universe’s “It May Be Winter Outside”. Why are you still reading
this if you don’t know who This story explains why Dan
isn’t nearly as “Boys vs. Girls” as the rest of the boys. Mr. Maypenny has
trained him well. Stay tuned for continuing
adventures in wood-chopping when The Cameo picks up on this story in the Here and Now Universe.
|
