An Uncommonly Good Man 7

The Journal of Julian Corsair,

An Uncommonly Good Man

Julian Corsair – Chapter Seven – "The most agreeable of all companions is a simple, frank man, without any high pretensions to an oppressive greatness; one who loves life, and understands the use of it; obliging, alike, at all hours; above all, of a golden temper, and steadfast as an anchor." – (Lessing)

The last sentence I read of Julian's journal the night before and their destination resonated with me. I didn't know much concerning the town, since it was located south and east of me, but I'd driven through there a couple of times on my journeys to Madison. I did know, during World War II, there was a government installation of approximately ten thousand acres there which produced smokeless powder and other munitions for the war effort. Construction was begun in 1942, although plans for the factory and subsequent facilities for military and civilian personnel were being developed early in 1941, prior to the start of our involvement in the war. If I remembered correctly, most of the operations there were shut down for the final time in 1975 and demolition of the site began in 2003. There was a period from 1945, when war production ceased, until the start of the Korean War, when the facility was pretty much mothballed.

Setting my coffee cup down and walking over to the coffee maker, I picked it up, refilled my cup, and returned my chair. God, it was good to be at the lake again; I was too long gone from this place and felt a need to make up for lost time. It would've been more enjoyable had Dr. J. accompanied me here in the flesh, but he did, not only in my memory and experiences, but in his journal as well.

My sleep was interrupted during the night only once; when two loons began to serenade each other, or perhaps the woods, moon, or just in general, with their lonesome, haunting, beckoning call, that siren sound of the northern lakes, cementing the woods, water, wildlife, and the humans who dwell there as inseparable and part of each other. The call of the loon brings the wayward bound home to seek rest and peace of mind and soul. It's a sound I find comforting yet exhilarating each time I hear it.

What I don't find peaceful and exhilarating at eight o'clock in the morning while I'm trying to enjoy my coffee, (I slept late) is that confounded noisy lawn mower chattering, rattling, and chopping around in front of the house. My intention to call the caretaker this morning was evidently thwarted by his appearance on his own, but I wasn't altogether pleased he decided to make his presence known at this hour of the day.

Forgetting, or perhaps not caring, still clad only in my boxer shorts, I picked up my coffee cup and with an air of determination, plus just a touch of irritation in my stride and manner, marched to the porch with every intention of confronting my intruder and express my displeasure! Much to my disgust, the errant lawn mower and man were not immediately visible from my vantage point. However, above the sounds of the mower, I heard a man talking and a little boy giggling. I craned my neck in an effort to locate them and couldn't until, from between two of the cottages, a riding mower appeared operated by a relatively young, shirtless man, perhaps three or four years younger than me, with a boy of maybe four, five, or eight years age, straddled securely on his lap. One of the man's arms was wrapped securely around the lad, using the other to steer with, as they bounced, jounced, and giggled along.

Nearing the house, the man spotted me standing on the porch, slowed the mower, disengaged the blades, leaned over saying something to the lad, and steered the noisy contraption toward the house and me. Only then, from the corner of my eye, did I spot the pickup truck with a trailer attached parked just up the lane.

They stopped near the front steps; the man turned off the mower, slid off of the seat, swatted the lad lightly on the ass as he also climbed off, and the two of them began the short journey toward the steps leading up to the porch. The shirtless, slightly built, but svelte young man, tightly muscled from toil, looked vaguely familiar, an image dredged from the past my mind struggled to categorize. His dark hair shined and his eyes sparkled as he led the way up the steps, patiently waiting as his companion joined him.

Their progress up the stairs gave me ample opportunity to look them both over and assess their merits or demerits, whichever case might apply. The young man, removed from the mower seat, appeared to be taller than me by a couple or more inches, of similar build, but more firm, perhaps wiry would be a better description, from hard labor or workouts, and weighing about one hundred thirty pounds to one fifty; not an ounce of fat on him compared to me, grown soft from the university life. He was quite tanned from outside exposure I thought, but most of his olive color could be inherent, almost the same color as Julian had been. This young man certainly wasn't an ugly person, but an average, attractive, well-built piece of human male.

There was a familial resemblance between the two; causing me to first think older brother/younger brother, or perhaps father/son, although I'd hardly not think that possible. Both entered the porch and before I could greet them, the younger one hissed rather loudly, "He's still in his underwear!"

Well, that certainly broke the ice! I leaned down, bringing myself to his level, looked at him straight on and replied, "But you have shorts on, so isn't that the same?"

Looking at me, eyeing my boxer shorts, thinking just a moment before pulling open the elastic on his shorts, reached down inside and hiked up the waistband of his own boxers, retorted, "But I have underwear on underneath my shorts and I don't think you do!"

"Danny, watch your manners, please," the older of the two admonished softly and gently.

"I apologize for the forthrightness of my nephew; after all," he continued looking down at Danny, "He's almost full-grown sometimes at just five years going on six years old!" and laughed, roughing Danny's hair.

Extending his hand to me, casting me a great welcoming smile, said, "Paolo La Mont, but people call me `Pauley' and this precocious, but lovable young man is my nephew Danny, whom you've already had some conversation with."

I clasped it, returned his smile with one of my own; "Matthew Burroughs, "but people call me Matt." His grip was firm, confident, unpretentious, but lingered clasping mine as he looked me over. "Paolo?" I questioned.

Again he smiled, "Yeah, the progeny of a mother with Italian heritage from the Upper Peninsula and a Canadian immigrant father." He paused, hesitated just a moment before continuing, "I expected Dr. Corsair when I saw the vehicle parked in front. He usually shows up this time of the year, depending on the weather."

I released his hand, took a deep breath and said sadly, "Dr. Corsair passed away a little more than a month ago. At his death the property passed to me as his heir."

"Oh," he said sadly, "I'm so sorry to hear that. Dr. Corsair was a kind and generous man and I owe so much to him." He was clearly disheartened at the news; then, as if a second thought hit him concerning his contract as caretaker, he continued, "Does that mean ..."

Before he could finish the question, I interrupted. "No, I'll be maintaining the same service agreement concerning the "Rabbit Patch" as he had with you, although I did anticipate meeting someone older since he'd employed you for so many years."

"That's my dad, Tom La Mont; he decided to cut back on work and when I graduated from college a year ago, I sort of took over the business."

His response was simple, complete, unpretentious, confident, and solid as a rock in expressing his inner confidence in his abilities without stating it overtly. Interested in his college degree work, I intended to question him on his major but was interrupted by Danny, who grabbed his crotch frantically, to which Pauley responded, "May we use your bathroom, please?"

I nodded quickly and they trotted down the hall, clearly familiar with the location. I took advantage of the situation, slipping on some board shorts and a polo shirt, and retrieved the bag with the soiled underwear in it. As they returned down the short hall toward the kitchen, I surreptitiously handed Pauley the plastic bag. He accepted it with a knowledgeable grin and a "Sorry about that! When he came with me last time to mow, we didn't make inside in time. I fumbled finding the key to the house and he pissed his pants."

"No problem!" I responded with a smile.

Pauley stopped, looked at me, asking, "You look familiar; you haven't been here for a couple of years have you?"

"No, I haven't; but I'm planning on being here much of the summer."

"Hey, Matt," he continued, "I'd love to visit some more, but I have two more lawns today. My sidekick has to be home at noon since he has a birthday party to go to. Right, Danny?"

Danny just grinned up at his uncle; clearly happy to have the morning with him. Pauley's back was well formed, strong and lithe, as I watched him walk away. I couldn't help but notice his firm butt cheeks encased in his jeans, but divided by the worn pants fabric, and pondered if those cheeks had ever been invaded. This was all nonsense, certainly, since I was certain he was as straight as a Texas Interstate Highway, with a wife somewhere and more young ones than a mink. I signed in frustration, knowing he wasn't going to be a likely candidate for a tryst or long-term relationship. Pauley and Danny trotted down the steps, boarded the mower, started it, and with a wave from each took off to finish this job.

I watched them weave and wind through the buildings, around trees and shrubs, until they were down by the lake, and went inside to have my breakfast. After breakfast, while cleaning up the dishes, I heard the mower stop, the truck start, and listened to it rumble down the lane toward the county road. I meandered back to the living room, retrieved Dr. J.'s journal from my briefcase and resumed my journey of discovery in the life of Julian Corsair.

Miss Harrison's house was an older home; two stories as she'd indicated before we left Milwaukee, well maintained, and situated on a very large city lot. Once the combined freight of three separate apartments was unloaded, we set about getting the house in order. Darnell and I helped rearrange furniture, put food stuffs away in the pantry, hauled trash to the shed outback, where, on Monday of the next week, we'd have to wrestle it to the street curb so it could be collected and hauled away. It sounds as if there was a great deal to mess with but, now that the country was engaged in all-out war, we spent most of our time sorting newspaper, magazines, tin cans, and other items which could be recycled and set aside for the next scrap drive. It behooved all of us, according to the various exhortations from the government, to do our part. Miss Harrison informed us in the coming summer, we'd have a "victory garden" and grow our own vegetables, thus freeing food products for our troops overseas and us from standing in line, ration books in hand, at the store.

Darnell and I finally had the opportunity to settle ourselves in our bedroom. There were two beds in the rather large corner room fronting the street side of the house and the small house to the side. With two beds, one for Darnell and one for me, it'd be the first time since I moved in with him and Miss Harrison, that I'd slept alone (other than a bit of a snooze after collecting my cash for a poking). The linen closet on the second floor had sheets, blankets, and pillows, so we each made up a bed.

"We don't always have to sleep alone, do we?" Darnell asked mischievously.

"No, you silly goose," I snorted in return.

Darnell's mom and Momma fixed supper for us. Darnell's mom was a better cook than Momma, but with Miss Harrison's assistance, the meal was fine. It was our first meal in our new house. We didn't have to, but Darnell and I volunteered to do the dishes. It'd soon become one of our evening chores. We really didn't mind it all that much; it gave us a chance to visit with each other and Miss Harrison, who seemed to enjoy our company and would sit at the table, entering into the conversation. Little did I realize at the time, she was taking that opportunity to continue to further our education in a subtle and very relevant manner.

"Tomorrow," she announced that first night, "we'll get you both enrolled in school. I'll call my next door neighbor and see if he can take us to the high school and elementary school for that and then take your mothers to the Badger Ordinance Works to fill out employment applications. I'm certain he'll help, at least until we get the transportation issue settled. He and I go back a long ways."

By nine o'clock that night, both Darnell and I were plumb tuckered out; it'd been a long day! Both of us stripped to our birthday suits, Darnell turned out the lights, and we crawled into our separate beds. It wasn't long before I heard him walk across the bedroom, then feel him slide in next to me, and cuddled, more for security than warmth, I thought at the time.

"Scared a little?" I asked.

I felt him nod.

"Me too," I acknowledged, "but we have Miss Harrison, our moms, and each other so it'll work out, right?" I felt him nod again and begin to relax.

"Do you realize how lucky we are, Darnell? We have a big house to live in, someone to help us with our school work, a big yard, and no big city thugs to hassle us. You know, Darnell, Miss Harrison didn't have to do any of this for us; but no, she decided to share it with us and let us enjoy and partake of what she has. Who else would do such a thing?"

Darnell didn't answer; instead, I heard a small, soft snore emanate from his limp form instead. He was sound asleep! I made up my mind that very night, if Miss Harrison was so willing to give so generously to us, then sharing what I had would be the least I could do for others as my life unfolded.

The next morning, true to her word, an elderly gentleman appeared at our door and was greeted by Miss Harrison with "Good morning, Bill; good to see you again after so long."

He responded with a short bow and smile, "Emily, as I am to see you."

Okay; Miss Harrison's first name is `Emily;' we have that down, now.

She turned to us, saying, "Boys, this is Mr. Arnold, our next door neighbor in the small house. One of your bedroom windows overlooks it, I believe. We have been friends and neighbors for a number of years; however, we haven't been in contact the last few years."

"Bill, this is Darnell Anderson," and pointed to Darnell, "and Julian Corsair. They are good boys and dear friends. Darnell will be in the tenth grade at the high school and Julian will be in the sixth grade at the elementary school. They're very special boys and we want them to get a good start in their new schools. It'll be different for them since they were in the Milwaukee School system prior to this."

Mr. Arnold smiled, a warm, caring smile, captivating me immediately and said, as he placed his arm around my shoulder, "Good, let's go to school boys," and steered us toward his car, waiting at the curbside. He was, on appearance, a quiet, unassuming man; one who spoke softly and little, preferring to listen before speaking. Mr. Arnold was one of those people we seldom meet who just seemed to be comfortable in their own skin, judging others for what they were, no more or less, and expected the same in return. I found his reassuring attitude and overt display of affection comforting and returned the gesture with a small hug around his waist. I hoped, by doing so, he'd understand I appreciated his concerns. What I really didn't want him to know I popped a bone and found him sexually attractive; no, I had to remain apart from that, for now. Mr. Arnold only seemed to treat me, not grandfatherly, but respectful, as if he judged me not, but still felt deeply for me, hesitant because he was uncertain of my motives or my reactions toward him.

To be continued:

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Thank you for reading Julian Corsair- Chapter Seven -"The most agreeable of all companions is a simple, frank man, without any high pretensions to an oppressive greatness; one who loves life, and understands the use of it; obliging, alike, at all hours; above all, of a golden temper, and steadfast as an anchor." – (Lessing)

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