Puffery

The tattered copy of Webster's Pocket Dictionary was one of my most prized possessions and I kept it hidden beneath my pillow and out of the clutches of my brothers who I was sure would have ripped it spineless just for the mean thrill of it. Being a greedy reader, I constantly ran into words whose meaning I didn't know and being an adept eavesdropper, I was always hearing new words from adult conversations. I loved language and the written word, Susan Howatch's prose - oh, those msytifyingly mile long sentences punctuated with colons and semi-colons and those paragraphs that were nearly essays unto themselves - I read and re-read everything she wrote in her very British novels with her very British characters and as she herself might have written, Darling, it's just too divine! The language was a story in and of itself and though I had to turn to my little Webster's frequently, it was worth every carefully chosen and elegant word.

I was curled up on the davenport with a book and my Webster's tucked neatly into my back pocket when Aunt Jenny arrived. She and Nana immediately closeted themselves on the sunporch and it seemed to me that Aunt Jenny looked as though she'd been crying. They kept their voices very low and at one point, Nana left the sunporch and returned with the brandy bottle and one of her delicate sherry glasses. Brandy in the middle of the morning was unheard of - actually, brandy anytime was something of a shock, no one in the family except my Aunt Helen seemed to care for it and Nana only kept it for what she called medicinal purposes, like the time Aunt Vi had seen a mouse behind the cookie jar and fainted dead away – so naturally I was more than a little curious. My grandmother poured Aunt Jenny a second glass and not long after she walked her to the sidedoor, gave her a reassuring hug and watched her walk down the front path and turn toward the canteen. Jenny was neither a small nor a fragile woman but at that moment, she looked a little of both.

Nana? I ventured cautiously, What's wrong with Aunt Jenny?

Nothin' that somebody beatin' the life outta that no account husband......she began angrily then stopped abruptly, Never you mind, child. You ask too many questions. Get your jacket and we'll go pick up Ruth. She's going to spend the night.

I brightened up considerably at that and tried to put Aunt Jenny out of my mind. I was young enough and easily distracted enough that it didn't take much effort.

Ruthie was surprised to see us and Uncle Norman didn't appear thrilled at letting her go but my grandmother could be a force to be reckoned with and she ignored his grumbling and scowling, telling him in no uncertain terms that Ruthie was leaving and would be returned after church the following morning. She didn't say whether you like it or not but we heard it just the same and I had an idea he did too. He shrugged indifferently and gave us all a dark look but he didn't try to stop us.

All bullies are cowards at heart, Nana said and shooed us into the old Lincoln. There was something kind of grim about the way she said it but Ruthie and I, chattering away like a couple of monkeys, didn't pay it much mind.

For some reason that I can't remember, we were just us three for supper and Nana outdid herself. There were scallops - pan fried in butter and melt in your mouth good – fresh sweet corn and perfectly ripened, garden grown tomatoes. Dessert was still warm gingerbread with real whipped cream. It was, in the vernacular, to die for. Afterwards, my grandmother pulled out her knitting and against my better judgement (I wanted to play dominoes but Ruthie wanted to play scrabble and Nana pointed out that she was the guest so scrabble it was) we set up the board and she creamed me. I made “horizon” and was feeling prouder than a barnyard rooster for the double word score plus the 50 points for using all my letters. Ruthie thought for a moment then calmly added "t-a-l” on a triple word score. I made “puff” with my next move and Ruthie added “e-r-y” which I immediately challenged by pulling out my little dictionary. And lost.

And the fat lady sings! Nana laughed, which was a peculiarly nonsensical remark that she said we'd understand when we older. Then she packed us off to bed.

Lotta help you were, I snapped at my little Webster's and threw it under the bed instead of beneath my pillow. Before Sunday School the next morning though, we had just enough time for a forbidden-on-Sunday game of rummy and I buried her in three hands. Between Ruthie and me, that was the way things were.

That was the week that Aunt Jenny left Uncle Norman for the first time. Of course she went back after three days, earning a black eye in the bargain which she tried to conceal with makeup and dark glasses.

I was beginning to think that the whole adult world was puffery.