reached the smouldering fire in the circle of blackened stones, Jonny put his box down. Ernie flipped the one he was carrying, emptying the contents onto the ground. Velvet skirts, cotton blouses, and multi-coloured shawls spilled out. Ernie kicked at the pile and unearthed a small rag doll. “It’s girl stuff,” he said. But his brow furrowed at the sight of a woven medicine pouch.
“No one told you to dump it out,” boomed Father John. “Get that picked up before I pick you up,” he threatened.
Jonny turned the cardboard box upright and scooped up an armful of the clothes but Ernie turned to the priest and put his hands on his hips. “How come you’re burning this?”
Father John cuffed him across the back of the head. “It’s junk. Pick it up.”
Ernie picked up a blouse and held it out to the priest. “There’s nothing wrong with this,” he said. “It would fit my sister.”
Father John snatched the blouse from his hand. “By the time you see your sister, it won’t.” He hit Ernie across the face with the hand holding the blouse.
Ernie fell to the ground with a bloody nose.
The fire was beginning to catch. Father John tossed the blouse on top.
“Come on,” Jonny said as he pulled Ernie up by the elbow.
Ernie, holding his arm across his dripping face, turned back and glared.
“I’m going to get that guy,” he mumbled as Jonny led him away.
4
Chicken Coop
Father Gregory waited behind the wheel of the old green pick-up in a grey short-sleeved clerical shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Ernie and Jonny jumped into the back beside a pile of used shingles, a couple of fence posts, and a battered tool box. They bumped down the grassy rutted road to the school gardens beside the river.
“Welcome to our Garden of Eden,” Father Gregory called out the window gesturing to the rows of beans, carrots, and cabbages. “It smells so beautiful in the moonlight, when the trees are full of fruit and the ground ripe with berries.”
Jonny knew nothing about the garden at night, but he knew once the boys returned from summer vacation, they would be picking all day long. The one good thing about garden work was you could eat straight from the plants when no one was looking.
The two nuns working at pea trellises waved to Father Gregory as they drove by. Behind the gardens, a small storage shed had collapsed in a storm.
Father Gregory, Jonny, and Ernie surveyed the heap of boards. “We’re going to re-use the wood for a chicken-coop,” Father Gregory told them. He handed each of the boys a hammer and a tin can. “You can get to work pulling out the nails.”
Before long, the cans were full of slightly bent nails and several piles of lumber lay on the ground, sorted according to size.
The school bell clanged in the distance.
“Hope that’s the lunch bell,” Ernie exclaimed. “I’m starving.”
Father Gregory opened the metal lunch pail and handed each of the boys a newspaper packet. Ernie began to unwrap his, but Jonny put out a hand to stop him. “Klahwa,” he whispered. “We have to give thanks.”
Father Gregory unwrapped a chicken leg, some cheese, and a bun after saying grace.
Ernie stared down at his single slice of bread and cold boiled potatoes. “How come he’s not eating the same as us?” he asked in a loud voice.
No one answered.
After wolfing down his food, Ernie crumpled the newspaper into a ball and tossed it to Jonny. Then he picked up a piece of lumber and waved it about. “Throw it,” he said. “We’ll see how far I can hit it.”
Jonny placed the newspaper ball on the ground beside his feet. He knew it wasn’t time for sports.
“You’ll get free time after dinner,” Father Gregory said. “Let us pray.”
“We prayed before we ate,” Ernie protested.
“And we pray to give thanks for the meal,” Father Gregory informed him.
As Jonny and the priest bowed their heads, Ernie stared at them in disbelief.
“It might be a good idea to put the coop on a platform,” Father Gregory said when he opened his eyes. “That way it won’t flood when it rains.”
“One night there was much rain,” Jonny said as he stood. To his own surprise, he found himself repeating the words of the old man in the woods. “The water crept around the houses. The great poles trembled and groaned. The people stayed on their platforms as the water rose higher and higher.”
Father Gregory looked at him and raised his eyebrows.
“Where did you learn that?” Ernie asked.
“I don’t know,” Jonny said. “It just sorta popped into my mind.”
“You’re telling the story of Noah’s Ark,” Father Gregory said as he fastened the lunch pail shut.
Ernie and Jonny took turns sawing the fence posts in half, while Father Gregory dug the holes. By the time they heard the dinner bell, the platform was finished.
“You boys ride up front with me,” Father Gregory told them. He patted the worn leather seat. “Move in closer, Jonny,” he said. “Make room for Ernie.”
“How many chickens are there going to be?” Ernie asked as they pulled away.
“We are going to start off with eight,” Father Gregory said. He placed his hand on Jonny’s knee and squeezed. “And one rooster, of course,” he said.
Jonny shifted himself closer to Ernie.
Two bowls of soup waited for them on the table in the kitchen. Two slices of bread and two spoonfuls of white lard sat on a tin plate. An enamel tea pot stood next to two chipped cups.
Ernie frowned at the ghostly crescent of onion, dime sized piece of carrot, and four peas floating in the greasy broth. “My baby sister can make better soup than this,” he said.
The cook opened the oven and removed a pair of roasted chickens. He placed them on a platter and surrounded it with potatoes. When Father Gregory entered, he handed him the platter.
“Don’t they ever get tired of eating chicken?” Ernie asked as he picked up his spoon.
At six-thirty they were to clear the table where the priests ate their evening meal.
Jonny tore the remaining meat from the chicken carcass and stuffed it in his mouth. “Best part about working in the kitchen,” he said. He pried off a wing and handed it to Ernie.
Ernie scraped the remaining vegetables from the plates into a bowl. He spooned it into his mouth, and then handed the empty bowl to Jonny.
“That’s
