A Barn of Love

A car rolls smoothly along a winding driveway that curves with the gentle contours of the land. Surrounded by towering pine trees the yard is mostly field grass which is awaiting its late summer cut. The car stops in front of a small two-story white house with a wrap-around porch and roses of all colors in the bed flanking the stairs. The car is parked between the house and an old barn. The driver, a younger woman with long curly chestnut brown hair and deep almond skin, climbed out and she looked up at the house for a moment while the other car inhabitants exited. Two children a boy about six and a girl around ten, they resembled their mother's complexion but had straight hair. After a moment the back door opens and a cane, followed by two legs, exits the vehicle. An old man with weathered fair skin and white hair poking out from under his black fedora which matched the suit that he wore.

"Dad, I will go get the meal going. Do you want me to help you up the stairs?"

The old man held up his hand and shook his head, "No Shirri, I am going to be in the barn for a while." He gave her a hug and a kiss on her cheek, then the two grandchildren ran up and he returned their affections as well. "You two go help your mother." As the kids ran up the steps, their mother trailing behind as she watched her father make his way to the barn.

When he was at the entrance he stopped and peeked inside, as if he were trying to catch someone hiding. The sunbeams peeked through the spaces between the boards, the dust dancing between those beams. As he moved into the barn he crept slowly to not to alert his target. He stopped behind a post and watched the shadows, there, right over there behind a stall door he could just see a clump of curly hair poking up.

The years seemed to melt away from him as he stalked closer to where she was hiding. By the time he crossed the aisle, he was a school-age boy. When he was just on the other side of the stall door he sprang up, "Caught you, Mabel!"

"Awe man! I thought I had a good hiding spot this time. You are too good at this Quinton." Two cocoa-colored hands grabbed the top of the door and pulled it inward. She was wearing a yellow dress and her tight curly hair was tied up with a scarf that let it roam free at the top of her head. "Well that game is over, what are we going to do now?"

He smiled at her, "I was thinking we could carve our initials into this post over here, you know to mark our friendship." He waved her over to one of the aisle posts before he pulled out a pocket knife. He started with the M then carved a plus sign before offering the knife to her. "I carved yours, you can carve mine."

"Very sweet, even though I know you really just don't like carving curved lines, I will do it though because you are being so nice." The Q was carved with a fancy curve to the tail. "Done."

The old man looked at the M+Q that was still in the barn. It had weathered slightly. He smiled as he traced the initials. Then let his fingers drift to the heart that surrounded them. Again the lines of age melted away from his hands.

A cocoa hand rested on his beige, "You are getting better at curves, the heart looks very good." Lifting her hand she turned to him. "Quinton, I wanted to invite you to dinner with my parents."

"Mabel, you know how my parents feel about that. They say we shouldn't be friends." His frown weighed down his face.

She turned away suddenly, "Well then maybe you should just listen to them! Be stupid, just like the others. We are the change, our world tells us to be apart but you and I know we belong together."

He rested his hand on her shoulder, turning her around. "Mabel, I love you and I would be happy to come to dinner."

She flushed, threw her arms around his neck and her lips met his. There was a quick peck, then she stepped back with her hand over her mouth. "That was, an accident."

He smiled at her, "But it was nice."

The old man laughed at that memory, "Oh Mabel, I was worried about my parents and what they thought, but when I arrived at your house that night, the only worry was that your dad knew we had kissed in the barn. It seemed like he was boring holes through my head all night long. That was the night that we learned there were going to be changes in our world. People had started to organize in an effort to stop segregation. It was in this barn that we did our part."

The two of them and many other teenaged kids were assembled in the barn. "We can all do our part. We were thinking that we should make posters and flyers." The crowd broke into a chaos of suggestions.

"Wait!" Quinton shouted, "Let's be organized. Leslie, you said something interesting."

A boy in the front said, "We could collect food for the marchers."

Another girl smiled and said, "We could also collect clothes, my mom said that when people get arrested for protesting the cops take all their possessions and sometimes clothes get ripped during the arrests."

From there the group organized together into smaller groups to collect and plan out ideas. Quinton and Mabel stole quick smiles as they drifted between the groups.

"Oh Mabel, you were a wonder." The old man traced a date beneath the M+Q. April 4th, 1968. "That is a date that is important for many, but for us it always carried a special meaning. Our wedding date, was marvelous. We had finally purchased this property. Your family was helping us build a house and my family was helping to finance our new lives. The wedding was wonderful, the food was amazing, and you were beautiful beyond words as you walked towards me in that dress."

"Oh, Mabel how we danced and celebrated. Dr. King and the movement had won a major victory. The previous June we could finally get married. But, you always said we needed to wait till after college graduation." He smiled as he envisioned the lights around the barn, the family musicians playing what they had, and her twirling in his arms. "It was during the dinner that news came to us about Dr. King. Tears flowed freely marring a perfect day."

The memory faded back into the magical light of the shadowed barn. Breathing deeply the old man rested his cane against the post and moved over to the porch swing that was hanging nearby from the rafter beam. "I wish that would have marked a peaceful turn in our lives but there were many who were angry about us, our love, our marriage, or perhaps there were other reasons for their hate. I remember the night that I built this."

The past permeated his mind again, the wood of the swing no longer looked aged but fresh teak newly milled. His hands sanded back and forth on the last piece before he placed it down and started to screw it into place with careful twists of his screwdriver.

He heard a shout and the sound of tires throwing gravel as an engine roared away down the driveway. Keeping the tool in his hand he ran to the barn door to see tail lights of a pickup fleeing in the distance. An orange glow emanated from the house. There was a fire in the living room, flames licking through the broken window. Quinton dashed to the front door, kicking it in. "Mabel! Where are you?"

"Kitchen!" The flames blocked the door. He ripped the heavy curtains down to smother the flames directly in front of the door. Once they were out he yelled, "Back up!"

"Okay, Quinton hurry I am scared."

He kicked the kitchen door in. Mabel was cradling her swollen belly with one hand and covering her mouth with a washrag. He swept her up in his arms and carefully carried her out of the burning house to the barn. He rested her on the swing up on the workbench. "Are you ok? What about the baby?" He asked as he carefully placed his hand next to hers on her belly.

"I think the baby is ok. We need to go somewhere for help."

"I will get the car. You wait here."

The glow of memory left his eyes. Then he let his fingers wander up and down the chain holding the swing. "We decided to keep this in here after the house was rebuilt. Shirrise was born right over there on my veterinarian table."

"This swing is where we first held Tabitha, our sweet little granddaughter. She rested in your hands as we rocked back and forth. Shirri smiling as proudly as you had the day you held her. Franklin followed a few years later." He stood up and hobbled to where his cane rested against the post. Then looked over at the tack room. Now an old woman with streaks of grey hair intermixed with rich black fell to the ground coughing. When he got to her there was blood on her hand where she had coughed.

Tears dripped down his face falling freely to the floor. "Mabel, it seems like every important part of our lives happened here in this barn. This old girl was with us when we met when we played, our first kiss, marriage, and raising our daughter. My dear, my love, though the world seemed to attempt to drive us apart, our love persevered. You were always my strength."

With that the old man fell silent, resting on the ground next to the post that held so much of his story.

After a while a voice carried from the house, "Dad, supper is ready, I brought you a plate." The crunch of gravel could be heard as Shirri made her way to the barn. The old porch swing's chains creaked as it swung. "Come on Dad. The kids are waiting…" Her voice trailed off as the plate dropped to the ground. Her father rested against the post. His face next to the carving of his and her mother's initials. His hand against the side where her and her children's growth lines are marked. His cane lay on the ground. Though tear trails could be seen under his closed eyes a smile of serene rest was on his face.