If Memory Serves Me Well

As Kathryn turned onto the long drive, her phone rang again. “Hello,” she said with a touch of impatience in her voice.

“Hey Kath, are you there yet?” It was Jonathan.

“Just pulling into the driveway. Jesus this place is run down,” she said, as she took in the overgrowth. She steered around a tree that had fallen partly onto the laneway. As she came around the last curve, trailing clouds of dusty road behind her, her grandparent's homestead came into view. She caught her breath and memories flooded back to her. “I have to go,” she said, her voice catching in her throat. “I'll call you a bit later.” She hung up while Jonathan was saying, “Are you o...?”

Had it really been 18 years since she'd been here? More than half her lifetime ago. She pulled up to the house and got out of the car. The place was a mess. The honeysuckle and climbing rose had pretty much taken up residence on the porch and half-blocked the front door. She couldn't face the house just yet. Around back, the barn stood, looking both like a day hadn't passed and like it had stood there since the beginning of time. Her grandfather's harrow sat against the barn, rusted, and a couple of barrels lay on their sides, pushed by the wind in front of the big barn door.

Kathryn swatted at a mosquito and swore at the tiny blood spot on her silk blouse. She did a slow 360 degree turn, taking in the ancient ash tree with the swing. So much time spent playing on that swing with Kate. Kate was her summer friend from the time she was old enough to remember, to when she stopped coming to visit her grandparents when she was 14 and her parents divorce divided their family. Pretty much tore their family apart. Kathryn's friend, her grandparents, and their farm became a part of her past that no one talked about.

The barn door made a loud, groaning squeal as she opened it, like an old man pulling himself up out of a creaky, well-used recliner. There was scattering from all directions, into the edges and corners of the space. It had that dusty hay smell that all barns do, and the light floated visibly through the cracks between the barn boards. She could vaguely make out the back of the house through the cracks if she swayed side to side slightly.

“AtchoO!” she sneezed, upsetting two barn swallows as they flew higher from the hayloft into the rafters. Damn. She forgot her bag in the car. And her phone. She walked back out and around the house to the car to get a tissue from her purse. Grabbing her phone from the passenger seat, she saw that she had missed a call from the real estate agent that was handling the sale of her Brooklyn apartment, and looking for a new place for her.

She blew her nose loudly into the tissue and slung her purse over her shoulder as she kicked the car door shut. Tapping on the agent's number, Kathryn walked back around the house and listened as it rang.

“Daniel Hammon.”

She put him on speaker and said, “Daniel. It's Kathryn. I just missed your call. Have you found out anything about the place in Gramercy Park?”

She had decided to move closer to work in Manhattan, and he was supposed to let her know if he found out anything more about a place he'd found for her in Gramercy Park. It would be perfect. It was a two bedroom apartment with really lovely bay windows and a view of the park. And it wasn't far from Jonathan's place, so they would no longer have to go across town to see one another. He had asked her if she wanted to just move in with him, but truthfully, she wasn't ready to give up her freedom just yet.

“Oh hi Kathryn, yes. Have you got a minute? I need to run something by you.”

“Sure,” Kathryn walked back into the barn and stood inside the door, remembering the sound of her grandfather's tractor as he was coming back from the corn fields. She would always run out to greet him and they would drive the rest of the way to the drive shed with Kathryn sitting on his lap pretending to steer, reaching her hands over his. “What is it?”

“Where are you? Your voice sounds strange, Like you just stepped into a vacuum.”

Kathryn walked farther into the centre of the big space, “I'm in a dusty, old barn,” she laughed. “Don't ask.”

“Ok... well, I was calling about the place in Gramercy, but also about another one. It's on the Upper East Side, and...”

“No, Daniel, I said I didn't want to look at anything there. You know it's just going to be over my price range.” Kathryn was at the back of the barn now and opened the door that led to the tack room. “Phwaw!” She spat out cobwebs that floated from the doorway. She picked up the rake leaning against the wall and waved it around the doorway to get rid of the rest of the cobwebs before she walked through, the wooden handle of the rake thwacking against the door jam.

“Where did you say you are again?” Daniel asked.

“I'm at my grandparent's farm in Connecticut. They left it to me when they died. I'm the only one left in the family who they thought might care anything about it.”

“And do you?”

“Do I what?” Kathryn touched the leather bridles hanging on their hooks. They were cracked from lack of use and the bits and buckles were rusting at the edges.

Katherine breathed in the smell of old leather and remembered Bunny, the pony she rode every summer until she graduated to riding Lady May, a pretty and well-natured grey mare. Kate would come by on her horse and they rode for hours together on trails through the woods, and on the roads around the farm, talking about everything from bugs to boys. Once, they rode all the way into town and once there, realized they were too tired to ride all the way back, so they had to ask Mr. Greeley who owned the hardware store to call Kathryn's grandfather. He came with the horse trailer, laughing and shaking his head as he stepped out of the truck and brought them back to the farm.

A spider lowered itself down the reins hanging by Kathryn's leg and she squealed and jumped back.

“Do you care anything about your grandparent's farm in Connecticut?” Daniel elaborated.

She turned and left the tackroom, closing the door behind her. Her canvas flats had dust in the crease where her foot bent the canvas at the toes, and she swore under her breath, knowing she wouldn't be able to get it out.

Her grandfather's voice came to her. Her parents and grandparents had been having one of many of their heated discussions. It had finally escalated and the last words she remembered him spitting out were, “I don't ever want to see you here again.” He had turned away, quickly catching Kathryn's eye, and just as quickly turning from her gaze. She had been stunned by his complete dismissal of her. Her mother had taken her arm and led her to their car. Her parents shouted and swore at each other all the way back to New York, while Kathryn covered her ears and tried to get the snarling image of her grandfather's face out of her head.

She heard her footsteps on the wood floor of the barn quicken and as she stepped out into the sun, closed the big door and faced the back of the derelict farmhouse, she took a deep breath.

“No. I don't care about it. Tell me about the place on the Upper East Side.”