Edward Lee - The Backwoods

She’s just feeling sorry for herself , Patricia knew. She supposed that was to be expected. The future of the company might seem overwhelming right now. “ Judy, you paid that money back twice as fast as you ever needed to, with interest. The company’s success comes from your . brains and your hard work. You’ll do just fine.”

Judy seemed reluctant. “Without Dwayne it’ll be so much harder. Sometimes I get to thinkin’ . . .”

“What?”

“Oh, I guess I never told ya. You saw the construction on the other side a’ the river, right?”

Patricia remembered from her drive in. “Yeah, waterfront condos, it looks like. Judy, that‘s just the way things are. Everything gets bigger. It’s social growth. All those condos’ll do is bring in more people—rich people, by the way—who’ll spend more money here. More growth for you, too, and your business.”

“Oh, I know, but I never told ya about the offer, ‘cos it’s so recent.”

“Offer? Someone offered to buy the crab company?”

“No, the land, the entire Point. The construction man. His name is Gordon Felps. He wants to turn the entire Point into a waterfront residential community. He offered a million dollars for everything, and remember, half of that land is yours, from Daddy’s will. You’d get half the money. That’s a lot of money.”

Patricia rolled her eyes. My poor sister is such a hayseed . “Judy, a million dollars for your company and all this land isn’t nearly enough. Try three or four million, and you’d still be foolish to sell. Where would you go; what would you do? I know you enjoy running the business; you’ve told me that too many times. ”

Judy seemed doubtful. “I know, but I’m getting old for this.”

“You’re only forty-two!” Patricia exclaimed. “What, you want to sell everything now and retire? That’s ridiculous. Wait till you’re sixty -two, when you can sell everything for twenty million. That’s when you retire, lit-tie sister.” Patricia wanted to object further, but then she took a moment to consider the reality. She’s still in mourning. She’ll be a little kooky for a few weeks, but then she’ll come to her senses. “And besides,” Patricia went on, “What about the Squatters? You’ve had offers before and didn’t sell. Remember the last time when you called me about it? You’d said you’d never sell the land because the Squatters would be kicked out and have no place to go. Those people adore you; they’re like your children. Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind about them.”

"I don’t know. Things are changing. I keep hearin’ things, and it makes me think.”

Patricia just kept frowning. “You keep hearing what things?”

“Well, that the Squatters are startin’ to turn bad. Some of ‘em are startin’ to get into the drugs, and some a’ the gals are sellin’ themselves ‘n’ all.”

Patricia could’ve laughed. “Judy, the only difference between the Squatters and the Pennsylvania Dutch is that the Squatters are even more puritanical. They make the Amish look like party animals.”

“I don’t know,” her sister repeated. “I get to thinkin’ that maybe they’re startin’ to turn bad ‘cos of me.”

Patricia was getting close to wringing her sister’s neck. “Okay, let me see. You give them work. You give them a free place to live, free electricity, and free water. So how are they turning bad because of you? You’re the best thing they’ve got going for themselves.”

Judy dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. “I feel like a welfare lord. I give ‘em work, sure, but it ain’t nothin’ but minimum-wage work. The men go out ‘n’ catch the crabs and the women pick the meat. It’s sweatshop work, and most of ‘em got nothin’ but tin shacks to live in. Don’t matter that I don’t charge ‘em rent for the land. It ain’t much more than ghetto life, and I’m the one danglin’ the bait. Lot of ‘em think there ain’t nothin’ else, nothin’ that might be better for them out in the world.”

Patricia shrugged. “For people like that there probably isn’t. The Squatters exist in their own little society. They’re self-sufhcient, living off the land. They’re pretty much uneducated and unskilled. The world can’t save everyone. All that matters is they’re making the best of what they’ve got and they’re very happy. They practically worship you—you’re like their queen. I’m not saying that you have an obligation not to sell the land if you really want to. It’s just that there’s no reason to do that. And for God’s sake, Judy, you’re not keeping them from greener pastures by giving them full-time employment. If they weren’t here, they’d be standing in breadlines, living in homeless shelters. If they think they can better themselves somewhere else, then they’re free to leave. But they don’t, because they know they probably can’t. They’re simple people who live a simple, hardworking life. Same as the Amish, same as the Quakers, same as a lot of the Appalachians. You’re not keeping them down by keeping them employed.”

Patricia felt winded after the philosophical exchange, and she felt frustrated as well. Where is she getting these nonsensical ideas?

Judy mulled it over in the silence, then said, “You’re probably right. Guess I’m just in a mood.”

“You’ve got a lot on your mind. Just focus on today”.

It was about the only advice Patricia could think of. This guy Felps , she thought next. Maybe he’s the one filling her head up with this crap. “ So tell me about this construction man who made the offer.”

“Oh, yes, Gordon Felps. He’s very successful, been buildin’ luxury homes all up ‘n’ down the East Coast for a long time. And he’s very nice.” Judy blushed, looking down at her knees. “He even asked me out when he first come to town. Didn’t know I was married, a’ course, till I told him. But he really is a nice man.”

By now, Patricia thought she’d develop permanent wrinkles from frowning so much. She is so friggin’ naive I can’t believe it! “Judy, you own a lot of valuable property. You have to be very careful with people who seem ‘nice’ if they have an ulterior motive. You know, like wanting to buy your land for several times less than what’s it worth!”

Judy didn’t even hear her. “And I’m sure you’ll meet him today at the funeral. I think he ‘n’ Dwayne were even friends. I saw ‘em talkin’ several times, gettin’ on real fine.”

Naive, naive, naive! “I will definitely look forward to meeting Mr. Felps,” she said. Oh, you can bet on that .

She was relieved at the break now in the conversation, Judy keeping any further thoughts to herself. Patricia just relaxed in the sun, peering around at the spacious yard’s beauty. The cicada sounds seemed more distant, lulling her. A wine cooler would be nice right about now , she considered, but then looked at the time. In another hour they’d have to start getting ready for the services.

In the distance, she could hear . . . something.

What is that?

A sharp thwack, thwack, thwack!

The noise persisted, drawing closer.

“Here comes Ernie,” Judy said.

Patricia glanced around, then at the edge of the yard noticed a shirtless Ernie going at the blocks of hack-berry bushes with a pair of hedge clippers.

Thwack, thwack, thwack!

“He does such a wonderful job with the yard,” Judy commented through a drowsy smile.

The image caught Patricia off guard. “Oh . . . yes. Yes, he does.” But her focus was elsewhere—not on Ernie’s hedge work; it was on Ernie himself.