Together they drove up to the farm. The family was not happy that he had brought her to their farm.
And together, hand in hand, they walked through each of the rooms and down into the basement. In a darkened corner lay the remnants of a bug infested bearskin rug.
“I remember this from when we were children. I used to lie on it in front of the fire.”
Sarah shuddered. It didn’t look very inviting to her. James carefully picked it up, like a precious piece of tapestry, something containing a hint of a happier time. He carried it past the family members engrossed in capturing their piece of the pie.
His mother looked at him aghast. This was typical of him, treasuring something no one else could want. In the kitchen, James found a pair of scissors and went outside to cut away the infection that was threatening to overtake this work of art. He knew exactly where he would put it, right above the entertainment center.
The two then found their way into the dilapidated barn. Tucked into another darkened corner, stood the remnants of a broken spinning wheel, a couple of mildewed washboards lying beside it. Sarah knew she could repair and bring both back to life. She could even visualize the washboards shined and varnished hanging upon the office walls.
When James asked what she wanted, she knew exactly what to say. She also knew no one else would want things that needed work. In this world beauty was something only visible on the outside. Even though she knew she had no right to any of it, she also asked for the newspaper announcing WWII sitting on the desk. This she would not get.
The family was shocked that he was even thinking of giving something to her. It is not that they wanted the items. It was just that she didn’t have the right to it. She was not one of them.