Under the Harvest Moon(bernard renaud) UNDER THE HARVEST MOON

In his room, Francis was preparing himself for his journey back to the place of his early childhood experiences. As he drew from the dresser drawer an old brown sweater, he noticed a photo of large grey buildings surrounding a small court, For a moment he stood silent, holding the photo, recalling the laughter of school children; some of whom were his closet class mates as they ran across the yard, the school master who, casting a watchful eye over the children, was not so old as to not notice the young school mistress standing at the entrance of the school.

He placed the photo back into the dresser drawer and walked over to the window. An autumn breeze was blowing the leaves across the street. As he stood watching the leaves scurry down the street in the autumn air, he wondered if much had changed in his small home town of Egglewood.

From across the room, out of the silence, he heard the familiar sound of the candle stick phone. Slowly he turned away from the memory of his early childhood experiences, and walked over to the side of his bed; ‘Hello…Josephine’ he said in a quiet somber tone.

"Well, we are off Francis", the quiet voice said, "in a week, then."

“Yes… in a week", Francis answered turning his head towards the window. "I’ll see you in a week." He placed the receiver back onto its resting place and sat on his bed… 'so', he asked himself, 'why is it so important for me to go back to my home town? I had some good times… maybe I needed to just…' He sat for a moment, looking out the through the window, 'maybe I could …’ A grey cloud seem to drift about in his mind, as he sat, watching the leaves scurrying down the street, wondering what to do.

"Is it time to go?" a voice called out from down the hall.

"Yes," Josephine shouted back, "we're all set."

“Good, I’ll be just a moment," Charlene said, as she opened the hallway closet door. From of the metal rod she took her oatmeal funnel coat; ‘this will be just fine’ she decided, slipping her arm into the warm woollen sleeve. "Okay, it’s time to go” she shouted out tightening the belt of her coat. They began to walk towards the front entrance when Josephine, suddenly, slipped her hand into Charlene’s.

"What are you doing?" Charlene asked a little surprised.

Josephine looked towards Charlene and smiled, "do you remember when Mother would tell us to go and play in the autumn leaves out in the front yard, when her friends would come over to play cards?"

"Yes …" Charlene answered, not sure what Josephine was getting at, "… I remember."

"Well," Josephine said, "it’s autumn…"

They walked out of the house, into the brisk autumn air and walked along the stone walkway, hand in hand. "My," Charlene suddenly said, looking down the street, "the children of Astaeus seem to be in a bad mood."

"Yes," Josephine answered, looking up at the sky, "they do… maybe we should hurry?"

"Yes maybe we should," she answered.

They quickened their steps towards the white De Soto parked under the willow tree. The early morning breeze had covered its front window with the red, yellow and orange colors of autumn leaves…

"Do you think Uncle Francis put some gas in the car yesterday?" Charlene asked opening the front door.

"I’m not sure…" Josephine answered, "…the gas gauge hasn’t worked for years."

"Well…" Charlene said sitting down on the torn brown leather seat, "here goes."

The old miniature buckaroos awoke from their long nap, quite irritated. It would be, much to the satisfaction of the old buckaroos, a short journey through the rolling hills towards their destination, a small ocean side restaurant. They rarely spoke whenever they drove through the hills, preferring to sit quietly, as the tress and gas stations, the rest stops and small cafes passed by. Arriving at their destination in time to see Monsieur St-Martin, the Maître d’hôtel, standing by the side of the curb waiting... for what, he was not is exactly sure. He stood, a white silk embossed handkerchief draped over his arm, looking up towards the top of the small hill where the road disappeared around a bend, then towards the valley floor, where the winding road seem to go on forever and then back up the hill.

"Two o’clock… they’re late" he said out loud. Monsieur ST-Martin, a third generation immigrant from Belgium, whose only remaining language was English, began to pace back and forth and around in circles, wondering if his guests would ever arrive: they had after all reserved most of the tables. He slipped off the white handkerchief from his discoloured blue jean jacket and began to walk up the stone pathway; when, from out of the quiet of the afternoon, he heard the sounds of a car struggling up the hill. He stopped and turned to see a white De Soto slowly moving up the small hill towards the restaurant. Thinking little of the sight of a white De Soto moving slowly up the small hill, he turned back towards the front of the restaurant and continued his trek along the stone pathway leading towards the front entrance of his restaurant, wondering how he might fill the empty tables.

"Hello," Josephine shouted out, as the De Soto drove up alongside the stone pathway… "are you Monsieur St. Martin?"

Harry suddenly stopped his trek up the stone pathway and turned back towards the roadside "Yes," he answered, not sure who was asking… "what I can do for you?"

"We are the Williams sisters," Josephine shouted out of the de Soto window as it came to a stop at the foot of the pathway… "we have a reservation… for this afternoon, a party of twenty."

Monsieur ST-Martin, or as he was better known to his friends, Harry, stood wide eyed, his lower jaw somewhat displaced by the sight of two middle age ladies arriving in what he estimated was a vehicle far too small to transport twenty guests, "you …are the Williams?" he asked, once his jaw had regained its former function.

"Yes… yes we are," Josephine answered as she pushed open the front door of the car… "sorry we’re late, the De Soto isn’t what it used to be…" She stood next to the car brushing off the brown dust from her dress. "That’s quite a hill" she said, looking over the roof of the De Soto, "…wasn’t sure the De Soto could make it up the hill on that loose gravel."

"Yeah it is," Harry said looking down the hill, "been trying to get the city to water it down when we have these dry days…, but you know what the city can be like."

Charlene stepped out from behind the wheel. "Yes, I couldn’t agree more," she said wiping away the dust from off her glasses… "it would be nice. Hello, my name is Charlene and this is my sister Josephine."

"Nice to meet you … and you too Josephine ... so, I don’t mean to be rude, but where are the rest of the guests… weren’t there supposed to be more than two for dinner"’

"Yes," Charlene answered, "the others should be along shortly."

"Good," Harry said, quite relieved. "Perhaps we could wait inside, this autumn heat must have given you a thirst…a little refreshment while you wait might be nice."

"Yes," Josephine said, "that would be nice, but I think it might be better if we wait outside …here, for our guests."

"Yes," Charlene agreed, "it might be better to wait here… they should be arriving soon."

"Okay," Harry said, "we’ll wait here." Harry stood quietly at the curb alongside Charlene and Josephine, watching for any signs of the arriving guests. "So… do you two young ladies live far from here?"
‘
"Young ladies… why Monsieur ST-Martin, you wouldn’t be flirting with us…?"

"No… I mean if I …if I were …I mean…" Harry said, stumbling along, "I…"

"Charlene…" Josephine suddenly shouted out, "I think our guests are arriving."

Harry turned and looked down the hill to see a cloud of dust off in the distance. For a moment Harry thought he saw a large yellow bus moving along the old gravel road. "Your guests…?" Harry said "…Do you mean," he continued; "your guests are arriving in a… large yellow bus!"

"Why yes," Charlene said, "how else you would transport seventh graders?"

"Seventh graders…!" Harry said. "I prepared," he continued after regaining some voluntary use of his lower jaw, "a meal for twenty adults, not twenty young children."

Dave turned the large black wheel of the bus, watching cautiously in the side mirror, as the bus turned on its rear wheels, onto a small laneway. As he made his way up the small hill, Dave struggled with the large black steering, working to keep the bus in the dirt ruts carved into the grass laneway.
‘My...' Dave thought looking out the window of the bus, as it moved over the top of the small hill, 'I’m not looking forward to going back down there.’
In the distance he could see Charlene and Josephine standing by the curb side waiting patiently. He steered the bus along the narrow laneway, towards the waiting sisters, waving to them out the side window.
As he drove the bus up to the curb, he let out a sigh of relief. 'My… I think I’ll ask for a new bus or another place, next time Miss Williams decides to take her seventh graders out for a day trip.'

"Good afternoon, Charlene" he said through the opening door.

"Good afternoon Dave… how did everything go?"

"Just fine," he answered, looking up into the rear view mirror. "Not a peep… well maybe a few peeps, along the way."

"Good," Charlene said… "you have a gift for understatements," she continued as she walked up the steps…" maybe next year we can choose another location."

Dave looked over at her as she moved up the steps, wondering if the country air had somehow given her magical powers. "yeah…" he answered, "I think that might be a great idea."

"Good afternoon" she said, turning to the seventh graders.

"Good afternoon," they all said in unison, with the exception of one or more, whose greetings followed a little later.

"Okay…time to get off" she said somewhat hesitantly, watching each stand up and scamper down the steps towards Josephine. They ran about Josephine chatting amongst themselves, as she stood waiting for her sister to step down off the bus. "They're all here" she shouted out.

"Good ….round them up," she shouted back with a smile… "time to eat."

Josephine gave out the call…repeating it several times. The seventh graders scampered over to her and stood quietly, two by two, along the stone pathway. "Well I guess we’re ready" she said turning to Harry.

"Yeah… I guess we are," Harry answered looking at the long line of seventh graders. "I hope they like what I made for dinner."

"I’m sure they will," Charlene shouted out.

"I hope so" Harry shouted back, as he watched the seventh graders walk, two by two, up the stone pathway and in through the front entrance of his restaurant.

Dinner was served promptly at four, or four…ish, and ended shortly after. The desert, a wonderful cheese cake topped with strawberries, took considerable more time. The seventh graders, haven eaten their meal, began to roam, from table to table, chatting with old friends and meeting new ones.

"Well Dave, I think we were a hit" Charlene said as she watched the seventh graders scamper about… "where’s Josephine?"

"Yup… I think we were," Dave answered "I’m not sure…the last time I saw her she was standing next to the wall near the front entrance, looking at pictures."

"Pictures, pictures of what…?"

"Pictures of the places from around here… I think he has over two hundred of them, of farmers plowing their fields, of old tractors and old combines, of winter storms and summer rains, of the cars parked in front of the general store, it’s like a history of the town."

"Really… how old is this town?"

"I’m not sure, but it’s a lot older than I am," Dave answered as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Yes," she said watching him… well we better find her, it’s getting late and I’m sure you don’t want to drive by moonlight."

"No… I don’t!"

"Well," Josephine said sitting down at the table, "I guess it’s time to go."

"Yup," Charlene answered… "what’s that you have in your hand?"

"A photo that was hanging on the wall by the door..."

"A photo …a photo of what…?"

Josephine placed the photo on the table in front of her, "just a photo."

"Well…" Charlene said standing up from the table, "time to go … I guess next year it will be your turn."

"My turn …" Josephine said looking up from the table, "my turn for what…?"

"Your turn to bring your eighth graders, here …"

"I guess so…" Josephine said as she looked down at the photo of the blue and white asters blowing in the autumn wind.

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