Willy by Joshua A. Fogel

Author:Joshua A. Fogel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: undefined
Publisher: Hamilton Books
Published: 2012-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Days, months, and years—one no different from the next, like drops of water—flowed by over the new soil into the life of farmer Robin.

His father-in-law was no longer alive and the farm with all the cows, chickens and other fowl, buildings, stables, barns, and workshop were bequeathed to Esther and her husband Volf, who for years now, from their wedding day forward, called himself Willy. She was not as neglectful of the farm as she had been before, when the old man and his daughter lived there all alone. Willy fixed the buildings, cleaned the old machinery, and bought some additional new machines. He also purchased a few young colts, as he had done back home, and would raise them to be big, strong horses. Cows and geese grazed in the meadows. From daybreak to evening, man and wife were harnessed to their work. Willy was in the fields with the horses in the stables, and in the workshop where he tinkered, cut wood, hammered nails, and greased, repaired, cleaned, and painted the machinery. Esther worked milking the cows, tending the chickens, and cleaning and cooking among the pots and pans in the kitchen.

They had no children.

She had miscarried the first child in the second trimester of her pregnancy, when she hoisted an over-brimmingly large bucket of water up from the well. She had not gotten pregnant again. Willy remained faithful to her, as he had vowed to do at their wedding.

She was thus engaged in work all day long, rising at dawn straight through until evening when they went to sleep.

Just as she had been an obedient daughter to her father, so was she now a docile wife to her husband, did everything that he asked, and was quiet, articulating not a word until he addressed her. She felt guilty for not having given birth to any children, although her husband never once blamed her in any way. To compound her sense of alienation, she did not feel close to her husband. She did love and respect him with a steadfast devotion as one finds in people who live in such a village or isolated settings. But she did begrudge him a wife’s intimacy, as a woman does after giving birth to a child. She always blushed in his presence as in the days after they first met when he arrived at the farm. Rarely did she utter a word. She simply had nothing to say.

Willy was similarly reticent. Only when he was completely absorbed in his work would he whistle—and no longer the military songs he had now forgotten, but new ones, as do all young farmers. His work so consumed him that, right after eating dinner, he would collapse with exhaustion and sleep straight through the night without interruption.

The farm was situated off to the side, in a place where few people ever ventured. The surrounding neighbors knew that farmer Robin was a diligent workingman, a good proprietor, a quiet man with whom no one ever had any concerns, and that was all.

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