"So, in the meantime poor little Lanker boy just crawls around, holding his feet up like that, with those pins stuck all the way through them, and those terrible looking wires., uh! I just don't see how the poor little thing stands it, myself. I sure couldn't, if it were me who had to endure all of this," says the grandmother, with her nose curled up.
"You might endure it if you had no other choice in the matter," says the mother.
"I suppose you are right," sighs the overweight grandmother.
"Have you eaten anything at all?" asks the sun browned man. "Come on inside, breakfast awaits you."
The sun-brown man turns away, then walks back up the steps toward the door. He pulls on the screen door handle, opening the door wide, saying.
"Come on inside before the food gets cold."
The couple make their way up the stairs, and through the door, with Lanker crawling along behind. As Lanker crosses the threshold of the home on both hands, he comes to feel a faded green carpet that seemingly hardened, with its closely cropped fibers. The feeling is not unpleasant to him, but it doesn't exactly please him at the same time. His nose is assaulted by the aroma of freshly prepared bacon and fried eggs. The luscious scent seems to draw him forward along, as the entire family makes their way through the large arched opening of the living room, into the eating room, then to the left through a narrow doorway into the kitchen.
The large woman stands before a wood burning stove, where another table sits beneath the cupboard, and up tightly against the wall. This table is simply an old fold up kind, like those found in large gathering places, being conveniently positioned where it stands. The chairs are positioned along either side of the table, where the plates are positioned...
"Let's all have a seat, and take our nourishment," announces the tall sun-brown man. "The food is not very good when it cools down. We must eat it while it is hot!"
After all are seated, the overweight woman reaches upon the stove top, retrieving an enamel coated canning pot. She dips a large ladle spoon down into this pot, retrieving a spoon full of thick grits, which she skillfully dropped into the center of every plate. When grits are piled into the center of every plate, a platter full of fried eggs and bacon makes its way around. These are placed into the center of the grits pile. The eggs are artfully mashed, and the entire food pile is mixed in well.
"Boy, this will be some fine eating, for sure," announces the sun-brown man to all the others present. "I can hardly wait! But let's say grace before we dig in."
The entire family then bows their heads.
"Oh, father in heaven," prays the sun-brown man, "please bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies, and to the saving of souls. For we ask this in Christ's name, Amen."
Everybody at the table picks his head up, and digs in. As far as Lanker is concerned, the food is so good it melts inside of his mouth. He feels as if he can't stop eating. Not much conversation is going on at the table, in general, since every person present is eating heartily. The sun browned man glances over at Lanker.
"How are you learning to walk, with those casts on, son?"
"I don't walk, I crawl," he says.
"You crawl? Well bless sweet Mary Jane, when are you going to begin walking?"
All of the persons present begin to chuckle and smile at the grandfather's comment.
"When they take these casts off, that's when!" Lanker snaps, to every person's surprise.
"In only three more weeks, we shall see," announces the grandfather.
This place Lanker finds himself suddenly thrust into, was indeed, vastly different from what he was used to. No more tall buildings and endless strings of passing vehicles. No more blaring horns, and tense, screaming voices. In the place of these repressive negatives, are towering pitch pine, the stir of a gentle spring breeze every now and again, the sweet melodies of singing birds, and the moo of a cow from somewhere on a distant horizon. People are few and far between here, a true blessing in itself.
At first Lanker doesn't know exactly how he feels about all of these peaceful surroundings, but he soon finds himself liking it immensely. He will often crawl around on the bare wooden floor of his grandmother's small cottage home. There is a bedroom in the very back of the house where his crib is, and at the back of that room is a narrow closet to the right. Judging by the smell and the feel of the wood, even Lanker can sense the home was ancient, compared to his own age. There are areas of the home where nobody ever ventured into, and this small closet curiously appears to be one of those places.
Lanker opens the door to this closet, and at the bottom corner is a chewed-out hole, about the size of his own fist. He places his ear to the hole, and can seemingly hear sounds of someone, or something, stirring about. He knocks three times on the side of the hole with his small clenched up fist.
"Is anybody home there?" he calls out.
There is no answer, yet he can hear sounds of an excited stir. He knocked, calling out three more times, but only hearing more of the same.
He gazes about, exploring inside this empty closet for a while longer, then begins crawling around to explore the room on the outside. There is a deep crack inside the wood of the wall in the closet, about as high up as Lanker can stand on his knees. He can peek directly into the opening, spying a small package of some sort, since the crack is about nose high for him. He skillfully reaches his small fingers into the crack, seizing the thin leather of a package, carefully removing the contents from inside this crevice. The package came out with surprising ease. This unique parcel has a zipper on it, so he unzips it.
An obvious, elaborately decorated handle lies inside this container. Folded backwards into this handle, appears to be a thin carbon edge of some sort. There is a silver button on the side of this elegantly decorated handle, so Lanker presses it. Instantly leaps out this delightfully thin, but long blade. When it snaps into place, it locks automatically. This old blade seems as if it was half as long as he was tall.
Down from the button that caused the blade to release, is a smaller, golden button. Lanker presses this one, then instinctively pushes backward on the blade, causing it to fold directly into the handle with a snap. This thing might wind up being of some future use, he thinks to himself. So, he stashes it underneath his bed, up tightly against the wall behind the heavy wooden headboard.
Lanker opens the door of his room, easing outward into the narrow hallway of the old cottage house. He makes a right-hand turn, continuing to crawl upon the hardwood of the old hallway. Halfway between there and the living room, on the left-hand side, is another small, seemingly neglected, closet. .
He eases along on all fours, arising to his knees, then slowly turns the doorknob. He struggles to pull open the door. When it finally opens, on the floor of the old hallway closet lies a doll, with blue eyes and shoulder length, flaming red hair. She appears to be dressed in old sack cloth. On the front of her rather crude dress, are stitched some alphabet letters Lanker can't make out. For some reason, however, Lanker cannot keep his eyes off this doll as she lays with her eyes closed, as if she is peacefully slumbering.
Suddenly her eyes open, then blink. Her mouth narrows. The doll begins speaking!
"Who is that, knocking on my door?"
"It's only me, little Lanker Doo-lezz."
"And what, pray tell, is it that the likes of you are in search of around here?" the doll asks, in a rather raspy voice.
Lanker thinks for a minute, then the perfect answer comes to him; even though right at first saying such a thing didn't feel like it made any sense.
"I'm searching for a pot of gold."
The doll begins to chuckle with a harsh raspy sound, seeming to echo throughout the entire cottage home. He fears his parents and grandparents would walk in on him and the doll.
"Searching for that pot of gold, eh? What makes you think to such a degree, that you might find one here in this place, boy?"
"My parents and grandparents were speaking last night when they thought I was asleep. I heard granddaddy tell my mother our ancestors came from Ireland, and were wealthy once upon a time, until the British stole all of their land and wealth away. He told my mother it was an old Irish custom to sell a portion of what they owned for solid gold coins, then stash that gold until some future time of great emergency."
"Is that right, my dear boy? The sound of your voice is as charming as your gift for recollection," says the old play toy.
The doll begins to chuckle once more again. She suddenly arises from the floor, then sits up straight against the wall.
"What is your name, you doll?" asks Lanker with cheerful enthusiasm.