The Kindness of Pages

Dusk was approaching the old farmhouse as the high pitched drone of crickets and cicadas wings intensified. The wind was starting to whip up dust and sand as Edna paused mid task, she was packing down the umbrellas and covers on the porch before they got swept up by the wind and whisked off dancing around the dry property. A strong gust of wind made her bed and breakfast sign clang against the front door, startling her out of her well deserved pause gazing into the distance.

Her last outside chore for the day was to get the chickens fed and into their enclosure before dark, away from predators for the night. As she shuffled in her worn outside slippers towards the chicken coop, she became aware through the deafening cicada songs of the low hum of a car engine approaching and glanced up to see dust swirling around a small car approaching on the unsealed dirt road.

She hoped it was someone needing a room for the night, as she was struggling to make ends meet on the farm stay. It has been a dry summer and a harsh winter before that. The chickens were ready for food and followed her easily into the coup. Edna chatted to each one by name whilst rounding them up for the night and latched the enclosure walking a little faster back to the main house.

A man was standing on the porch. He looked tired and dishevelled, of slight build, with a well grown beard and greying hair. She greeted the man, who asked if she had a bed for the night.

"Come inside" she called out, waving her arm towards the front reception and bent under the counter to get a room key. The man looked uneasy and shuffled around a bit, then began to speak.

“I apologise for asking this, it's not something I normally do, but due to unforeseen circumstances, I have no money today to pay for a room –all I have is some of my artworks, my sketches, drawings and paintings that might be very valuable one day. Would you accept this as payment for the night?”

Edna looked down and felt into her heart. She really needed the money, not art, but was not willing to turn this weary artist away. She looked deep into the man’s eyes and nodded. The man reached into his pocket and carefully pulled out a well worn small black moleskin notebook and placed it in her hands. She glanced inside briefly. Each page was filled with vibrant colour and lines. The life in the art was mesmerising, but it was getting dark and she wanted to show the man to his room.

The little black book was pushed into a drawer as Edna shuffled down the passage with the artist at her heels. The next day after breakfast, the artist thanked her and left. The dust danced around his old car as he drove off along the dirt road. Edna took a deep breath, readjusted her sign, cleaned the room and went about her day.

Many years had passed, and Edna was having to face selling the farm. She could not afford the upkeep or for staff to help her maintain the running of it. Bed and breakfasts were popping up everywhere nowadays and with swimming pools and cafes, not so many people stopped by anymore. She had been slowly rehoming all the farm animals and selling off equipment and furniture they no longer needed.

Today one of the large tractors was just being towed away by its new owner, when she looked up to see a man standing at reception. He was tall and she placed him in his mid forties. He reminded her of someone, but she could not place who it was. "How can I help you?" Edna asked.

“I have been searching for you for a long time Edna” The man said.

"Many years ago my father was traveling in this area and was robbed and lost his wallet and all his belongings he found his way to your homestay and stayed a night with you. I believe he gave you a little black notebook of his artworks which was all he had left , do you remember?

Edna smiled and nodded. How could she forget? The man reminded her of the artist who stopped over so long ago, she had not known he had been robbed and oh yes the little black book - where had she put it?

"I will have to find it, it was so long ago" she said and offered the man a seat on the swinging chair on the veranda whilst she searched. What HAD she done with the book?

Edna's hands fumbled down the desk drawers and she felt through each of them, until the softness of the moleskin notebook found its way into her hands. She hoped he might pay for a night in the farm stay, so she could get some food for the animals and herself.

Edna walked out carrying the little black book and held it out for the man to take. He leapt up and closed his hand around hers. There were tears in his eyes. He started thumbing slowly through the artworks, stroking each page with the tenderness of a lover, with tears pouring down his face.

Then he spoke: "My father was a master, a world renowned artist and in his memoirs he tells the story of how kind you were to let him stay the night in exchange for the book. He was so moved by your kindness, I would like to offer you a copy of his memoirs as a thank you."

Edna took the book and held his hand a little bit longer, smiling at him, before he drove away down the unsealed road, with the wind blowing up dust swirls around his vehicle.

She gazed into the distance, listening to the crickets and cicadas growing louder and the dusk starting to approach.

Edna sat for a moment on the swinging chair, the bed and breakfast sign clanging in the wind.

She opened the artist’s book. Written in scrawling handwriting on the first page was a note of thanks to her and a cheque for twenty thousand dollars.

Edna took a deep breath, she exhaled for a long time. Then slowly folded the cheque, tucked it safely into her bra and shuffled slowly to the kitchen to put the kettle on and make herself a strong cup of tea.