Chapter 2. The Fire Weeper, Family meeting, 3/2/1998
Chapter Two
Mirabelle closed the glass door and locked it. Her work day had ended, same as it always had, and she walked along the boulevard, heading towards her house. Along the way, she passed by Edward's factory--Five Star Uniforms--and stopped to look inside the windows.
Edward's factory was a small, wooden, two-storied building. On either side of it were two smaller wooden buildings. Two narrow alleys, each about three feet wide, separated them. On the left was The Golden Nugget Bar and Grill, and on the right was Tim's Hardware store. The buildings had been built when Ponderosa had first sprung up to meet the needs of the miners working the nearby hills to the west. Few old wooden buildings still stood in Ponderosa but these three had managed to survive.
The Golden Nugget Bar and Grill was a piece of local history. It had been in existence for decades. The owner's (Wallace Matthews) grandfather had built the place long ago and Wallace was never going to tear it down no matter how old it became.
Tim's Hardware was owned by old "Slim" Tim Johnson. A kindly, though rather direct, old man. He was deeply attached to his humble-looking, rickety store and loved to sit out front when business was slow, eager to converse with anyone who happened to be passing by.
Edward's factory stood between these two old shops. Edward had wanted a place that looked modern and update, but this poor excuse for a building was the best he could obtain when he had first started out. The place had previously been an old hotel and its age and many years of use showed. It's low price had been its best feature to Edward. With his business growing, he'd soon be able to move his operation into (much desired) larger and more modern quarters.
The windows Mirabelle looked into were dark and lifeless. The factory had already closed but Mirabelle knew Edward would be up in his second-floor office continuing to work. Mirabelle didn't want to disturb Edward so she turned away from the factory and continued on home.
Upon reaching her little bungalow Mirabelle warmed up some coffee and ate a leftover cinnamon bun. Though she had tried to force it out of her mind during the day, the nagging feeling of something lacking from her life continued to bother her. Maybe she was just having pre-marriage jitters, she realized. Getting married would probably be the biggest event in her life, after all. Finishing her coffee, she decided to call her mother and ask if she could come over to talk over dinner.
Mirabelle picked up her phone and dialed her parents' phone number. The call connected and her mother's familiar voice reverberated from the receiver.
"Hello?" said Nancy Laughlin.
"Mom?" replied Mirabelle.
"Mirabelle?" her mother questioned.
"Yeah, it's me Mom. Are you busy?" Mirabelle asked.
"Not at all. Are you okay?" asked her mother.
"Yeah, I'm fine, Mom. I was just wondering if I could come over to talk and have dinner with you and Dad," answered Mirabelle.
"Of course, Mirabelle. Come on over," Nancy replied.
Nancy was happy to hear from Mirabelle and insisted that she come over "lickety-split". James, Mirabelle's brother, had been helping their father and was already there. They could have a little family get-together. Eagerly, Mirabelle put on her coat and headed out the door.
Surrounded by the orangy-red fading glow of the evening skies, Mirabelle made her way to the family home. The little white house came into her view as she walked and it took on an otherworldly-like gleam in the twillight. Mirabelle felt as though she was walking in a dream as memories of her family experiences, both good and bad, flashed across her mind. The house for her was the embodiment of those experiences and its sight called up scenes of her past from the deep spring of her unconscious. That's what made a place a home: not its physical structure, but the memories that lingered in its atmosphere and in the mind.
Mirabelle walked up to the front door and rang the bell. After a few moments, the door opened.
"Mirabelle!" said her mother smiling and hugging her, "come on in."
"Hi, Mom," said Mirabelle returning the hug. She entered the house and took off her coat.
"Dinner, and your father and brother are already at the table," continued her mother, "They didn't want to wait for you so they've already started eating."
"Typical," said Mirabelle with a smirk.
Mirabelle and Nancy walked to the dinning room and entered it.
"Hey, sis," said James, his mouth half-full, holding up an impaled sausage on his fork to her.
"Miry," said her father, briefly looking up at her before returning to the peas on his plate.
"Hi, James. Dad," Mirabelle said as she sat herself at the table.
"So, didn't feel like cooking dinner tonight, Miry?" asked her brother, grinning.
"Sort of," she replied, pausing, then continued "and I wanted to talk to Mom and Dad."
"First, get some food into you Mirabelle. You're too skinny," said her mother.
"Oh, please," Mirabelle answered before turning her attention to the food.
Mirabelle glanced at her family while she ate. They were a very close family and often visited each other even after she and James had grown up. How far they had come, she reflected as she sat there.
Mirabelle was born in Iowa, as was James. Jacob (her father) and Nancy's families had been farmers, but changing circumstances forced Jacob and Nancy to give up the lifestyle. Jacob had inherited his family's small farm and it had long been his dream to expand it. As he had grown he had often envisioned the surrounding empty fields filled with stalks of corn. Ideas of growth and of a better standard of living swirled in his mind as he borrowed money from the bank to buy the vacant parcels of land surrounding the farm as well as seed and machinery. He wanted to get the fields into production immediately and to quickly repay his loans.
Jacob would have succeeded for he had managed to plant and harvest the extra fields, but the coming of the Depression scuttled his dreams. Crop prices dropped and he found his increased harvest next to worthless. Becoming increasingly burdened by his debt load and then unable to make his payments, Jacob sold off his assets. In the end, he didn't even have enough money to maintain the smaller, original farm. Not wanting to become a tenant farmer and distrustful of co-operatives, Jacob Laughlin sold his family's farm and decided to start a new life in California.
The Laughlins never made it to California. When they had reached Colorado, they decided that this was where they wanted to stay. The Golden State's allure no longer beckoned them, for the spectacular scenery of Colorado had enchanted them all. Having lived on the rolling plains of Iowa, the rugged mountains and forests of Colorado were awesome in their grandeur to the Laughlins. On a more practical level, they were tired of traveling and an expatriate Iowan friend of Jacob's, at whose house they had stopped at, offered Jacob a job in his small woodworking shop. Happy he'd never have to see another blasted corn cob again, Jacob accepted. The Laughlins all loved Colorado, even Nancy.
With dinner over, the Laughlins settled down to one of their classic family discussions.
"So what's on your mind, Miry?" asked her father before he proceeded to sip on his tiny glass of gin.
"Well, it's kind of personal. Does James have to be here?" replied Mirabelle, looking across the table at her brother.
"I won't tell, Miry, honest," James jested, slying smiling at her with his right hand raised by his head, open palm forward. His pose didn't instill confidence in Mirabelle. Rather than looking like a solemn witness, James appeared more like a cat trying to look innocent despite being aware of a mess of feathers sticking out of its mouth... but that was James--always playing. She knew very well her brother's joking was harmless.
"If you don't want to talk about it with James here we can wait," said Nancy, calmly, to Mirabelle. They were good children but the memories of years of sibling squabbling, happily forgotten, that Nancy had to put up with were unpleasantly percolating into her consciousness.
"That's okay. I ate my fill. Maybe I'll go bother Sheryl," said James, getting up. His tall, stocky figure headed out the dining room doorway.
"You be good to her James," said his father, "I can't imagine any other woman willing to put up with you." He was quite serious.
"Ha. Ha. Very funny," James shot back as he headed outside, "See y'all."
Nancy got up and closed the front door behind James. "So Mirabelle, what happened?" Nancy asked her daughter as she returned to the table.
"It's nothing really. It's just that I think I'm nervous about getting married," Mirabelle said as she looked down at the table, reflectively.
"Getting married! Who said anything about getting married?!" exclaimed her mother excitedly. Fortunately, Nancy had already taken a seat.
"I thought you'd have known by now. It's been a whole week since he proposed to me," Mirabelle responded, looking at her mom and then her dad.
"You never told us," said her father, continuing to sip his gin as he looked at Mirabelle.
"Well, Mrs. Herbert knew. She congratulated me this morning. I thought it would have made it along the grapevine to you by now," Mirabelle countered.
"Married! Married! Oh, that's wonderful Mirabelle!" cried her mother, who flew out of her seat and proceeded to jump up and down, clapping her hands, pleased as a little girl.
"Oh, Mom," said Mirabelle as her eyes followed Nancy up and down. Usually her mother was as mellow as could be but she did have her occasional emotional outbursts from time to time.
"Well, Edward is a good man, respectable, and has a lot of business sense," Jacob said to himself, thoughtfully.
"I know," Mirabelle said, "and I love him a lot. It's just that..."
"What Mirabelle?" asked her mother while turning to look at her.
"Is there something about him we don't know about?" questioned her father.
"It's not him it's me," Mirabelle replied, looking unhappy.
"Not this again," Jacob said. He put down his glass of gin and proceeded to refill it. He should have known.
"Mirabelle, you've got to stop questioning," said her mother, returning to her seat.
All her life Mirabelle had been questioning things. She was never content with settling for others' opinions on the truth--she had wanted to find it out for herself. This was probably the result of her abundant childhood curiosity developing into a keen analytical mind. She could never settle for pat answers given by others.
"Why do you always have to mess things up like this Mirabelle?" questioned her father. He continued, "If it's good enough for everyone else why can't it be good enough for you? Why do you always have to do your own thing?"
Mirabelle had always been rebellious. When she gave up her innocent, childhood ways to become an adult, no one expected she'd become a strong-willed woman rather than a meek little lamb. She had started dating without her parents' permission. She had never kept her curfew. She had moved out to live on her own, rather than stay at home until she married. She did as she pleased, content to follow the beat of her own drummer, rather than the accepted norm. She was a headache to her parents, but they still loved her. Mirabelle had tried to fit in and be like everyone else, but her independent impulses always got the better of her.
"I know I should be happy, it's just that I keep getting this feeling that something is missing from my life," Mirabelle replied and looked at her parents, hoping for some timely advice.
"How many times have we told you to stop being an irrational little child and to start using your head for a change?" her father asked her. The alcohol was starting to take its effect as he cast off his usual phlegmatic, reserved personality for a heart-to-heart talk with Mirabelle. "Look at the situation. It's obvious that marrying Edward is the best thing you could possibly do for yourself. So why don't you forget about this 'feeling' of yours?"
"Whatever," said Mirabelle disrespectfully, "I just thought that I could discuss my feelings about this with you two. Obviously, I was wrong."
"Mirabelle, you've got to stop following your feelings," said her concerned mother, "they don't make any sense and they'll get you into trouble."
Mirabelle sat sullenly at the table with her head turned to stare into the glass doors of the dining room's china cabinet. Her unreal reflection bothered her as she looked at it. "What is this feeling that something is missing from my life, anyway?" she wondered. The feeling seemed to her to be like the ghostly image of herself in the glass, mockingly haunting her. It didn't make any sense. Why did she feel as if something was lacking, when to all appearances she had it all. Mirabelle tightened her lips into a grimace. For once, she wasn't going to let her "feelings" ruin what promised to be a most wonderful and fulfilling future. She broke her gaze from the cabinet to look at her mother's expectant face beside hers.
"You're right, Mom," responded Mirabelle, "I'll just forget this 'something missing' feeling and just look forward to getting married."
"Finally," said her relieved father, "reason prevails at the Laughlin home." He smiled at Mirabelle as she got up to leave.
"Mirabelle, you're an adult now," said her mother, "and you've got to start thinking and acting like one."
"Yeah," she said to them as she got up to leave, "I guess it's time I grew up." "Thanks Mom," she said hugging her mother after she had put on her coat. "Thanks Dad," she said, hugging him, too.
