Outside, the nor'easter which blew in the windows at Collinwood, driving the family to seek refuge at the Old House, still rages. Most of the family has fallen into an exhausted sleep, but not Mrs. Johnson. For years, she has taken
The Caretaker's Watch
Sarah Johnson's careworn, stern face looked softer in the firelight. Ever the caretaker, she concerned herself with collecting the empty mugs once filled with the hot rum punch provided by Willie and Barnabas. All around the Old House, the winds of the nor'easter blew sheets of snow with great force and rattled the windows fiercely as if trying to force their way in here, too. As frightening as the howling wind and rattling glass sounded, the family was comforted by the fact that there weren't any great trees standing nearby. Almost everyone had retired for the night, leaving only Roger and Elizabeth sitting in the armchairs before the fire, covered with warm comforters.
Mrs. Johnson was in the process of picking up Elizabeth's mug. Seeing that Elizabeth was still awake, Mrs. Johnson remarked, "It's times like these when I think I most disagree with Helen Keller."
"Oh, really, Mrs. Johnson?" Elizabeth responded politely to Mrs. Johnson's odd declaration. "Why do you say that?"
"Someone asked Helen Keller if she could choose, would she prefer to hear or to see," Mrs. Johnson explained. "She said that she would prefer to see because while blindness separates one from things, deafness separates one from other people. I disagree with her. I would much rather be deaf. It doesn't separate you from people at all. When the power goes off and the lights go out, it frightens me. That's when I feel the most separated from people."
"I think that Helen Keller was just trying to say that even if she was blind, she would still be able to communicate with other people," Elizabeth explained.
"Yes, but deaf people can do that, too," Mrs. Johnson replied. "It's not that difficult."
"How can a person communicate if they're deaf and dumb?" Roger asked with sleepy irritation. Apparently the conversation between Mrs. Johnson and his sister had stopped him from drifting off. "Really, Mrs. Johnson! How can they answer if they haven't heard what you've said?"
"Deaf people can read and write just like you and I," Mrs. Johnson answered, with equal asperity. "Deaf people are NOT dumb. They just don't hear. "
"Well, but they can't SPEAK! That's what I mean by 'dumb'--not that they are more stupid. Although--"
Mrs. Johnson interupted. "Mr. Collins, if you pinch a deaf person I guarantee you he will say 'Ouch!' just like you or I would!"
"Oh, for God's sake, I can't believe I'm engaging in this silly argument!" Roger burst out and then subsided. He was still felt chilled to the marrow from the slow, trudging walk through the deep snow. He was worried about the damage being done to the inside of Collinwood and how long it would take to repair it. He gulped at his punch and grumbled, "This hardly warms me up. Mrs. Johnson, would you be so kind?"
"How do you know so much about what deaf people can do?" Elizabeth asked as Mrs. Johnson took Roger's mug and refilled it to warm it up.
"I have some deaf family members."
"REALLY?" Elizabeth's voice shot up inspite of herself. Generally she prided herself on her good manners and breeding, but she was genuinely surprised. How many years had Mrs. Johnson been with the family? She'd never mentioned this before. She was aware that she and Roger were staring at Mrs. Johnson as if they'd never met her before. "Mrs. Johnson, you've been with us so many years and we never knew you had deaf relatives," Elizabeth finally said in a wondering voice.
"Well, after, all Liz, we can't involve ourselves in the lives of every employee--" Roger broke in defensively.
"Roger, Mrs. Johnson is hardly a mere employee," Elizabeth reproved, frowning. She looked at Mrs. Johnson. "Why don't you put those things down and sit with us?"
"It just never came up." Mrs. Johnson shrugged, sitting. "We've had so many strange things happening around here, you know. There didn't seem to be much point in it. There was nothing to tell."
"Please excuse me for prying, but who is deaf in your family?" Elizabeth asked.
"Oh, well, let's see. There was my grandmother and grandfather. I also had some deaf aunts and uncles. My cousins and my sister. My parents." Mrs. Johnson hesitated, trying to decide whether to go on. "My son and daughter," she finally added.
"Harry's not deaf," Roger objected.
"Oh, I don't mean HIM. He can hear as well as you or I," Mrs. Johnson replied, waving her hand dismissively. "Much good it did him," she added bitterly.
"It sounds like nearly everyone in your immediate family was deaf," Elizabeth observed, more and more surprised.
"Yes, except for one set of grandparents," Mrs. Johnson agreed.
"If your mother and father were deaf, who taught you to talk?" Roger asked. "If you don't mind my asking," he amended hastily.
"Oh, it's all right, Mr. Collins. Lots of people used to ask me that," Mrs. Johnson answered.
"I'm glad you don't mind these questions," Elizabeth put in. "It seems apparent we know very little about you after all."
"Well, as I said before, it didn't seem important to talk about," Mrs. Johnson replied.
"I would just like to say that I think of you as more like a member of the family, not merely an employee," Elizabeth went on, looking pointedly at Roger. Roger just made a wry face and had another gulp of the rum punch. "If you don't mind our curiosity, I for one would like to hear about how you learned to speak. We're not going anywhere anytime soon, " Elizabeth continued with great interest.
Mrs. Johnson shrugged. "I would think you'd be more interested in the first ghost I saw." Roger and Elizabeth exchanged glances. "That wasn't here, not Josette's or Quentin's ghosts. This happened long before I came to work here."
"Did that happen when you were a little girl, then? Did it have to do with learning to speak?" Roger asked.
Mrs. Johnson laughed. "Oh, no. I started to speak when I went to school. My hearing grandparents were very worried. They thought I might be deaf too, like my sister Esther. They would bring us to the park for picnics on Sundays. My grandfather would sneak up on me and Esther when we were playing and he'd clang two pots together. He'd scare the living daylights out of me!"
She smiled at the memory. "I always jumped and looked around. Esther never did. My grandparents were sure she couldn't hear either, but they couldn't understand why I didn't talk. I was older."
"Why didn't you?" Elizabeth asked.
Mrs. Johnson shrugged. "Had nothing to say, I guess. I wasn't used to using my voice to speak. I knew what the words are--I could always hear my grandparents. All round me, though, there was always signing and the sounds deaf people make when they're signing. They don't talk exactly, but they're not dumb either. It's hard to explain. Anyway, when I went to school, I started to talk all right. There was plenty to say there." Mrs. Johnson's eyes became unfocused a little, remembering.
Papa was a Methodist minister. The church was small but the entire deaf community came for services. They also stayed after service was over, socializing. Volunteers would cook a big Sunday dinner in the church's tiny kitchen and everyone would wait patiently to be served. Papa and Mama were kind and gentle, well loved and respected by the congregation. Sarah Johnson remembered sitting on Papa's lap, signing "itsy bitsy spider" together. His hand was one half of the body, her hand was the other half, and they climbed the imaginery strand together. Mama sketched pictures with bits of charcoal. Sarah was always "catching" Mama drawing pictures of her playing with Esther or her dolls or sitting on Papa's lap. Sarah's whole world was deaf. Her parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, sister, and all the friends signed. Her world was warm and comfortable, filled with expressive faces and nimbly moving hands and fingers.
Sarah felt different with her hearing grandparents. As she grew older, she noticed other differences. Mama and Papa didn't sign with this Grandmother and Grandfather--not like they signed with Grammy and Pop-pop. Here they put their hands down and moved their lips and made strange sounds. Sarah didn't understand why they would do that--it made communication so much harder. She also noticed that Mama and Papa kept their hands down when they mingled with other "hearing." They also moved their lips and made the strange guttural noises. Sarah noticed the odd looks from those hearing people. She noticed that they seemed to treat Mama and Papa like they were idiots. Grandmother and Grandfather took Sarah every weekend. Every weekend, they told her, "You're a good little girl, Sarah, to take care of your poor Mama, Papa, and little Estherie. You have to be strong, Sarah, because they'll need you more and more as you get older. We won't be here forever, Sarah, and someone's got to look after them when we're gone. We're depending on you, Sarah dear. You have to be their ears and look out for them."
That was confusing. She, look out for grown up Mama and Papa? They seemed to be taking care of HER just fine. Why did they need "looking out for"? Sometimes, though, out there among the hearing, Sarah noticed Mama and Papa would look at her questioningly. They'd raise their eyebrows in a signal Sarah came to learn to recognize as "What are they saying?" Sarah would sign quickly, down near her waist. Out among the hearing, Sarah'd learned that Mama and Papa didn't want their hands to be seen. It wasn't "right". Another signal was when Papa would tap his index finger and thumb together, again down by his waist. This meant "What should I do now?" It was a way to ask what was expected from the hearing people.
Life was simple for Sarah until school began and contact with the hearing world increased. Being a bright child, she quickly learned when to be behave hearing and when to behave deaf. There were two sets of rules to follow, but Sarah was adapatable and adjusted to her dualism rather easily. As for the way hearing people treated her parents, it just seemed to be the way it was. Being hearing was better; it meant you were smarter, more capable, and more successful, especially during the Great Depression. Sarah chafed whenever people referred to her parents and sister as "those dummies" but, after all, didn't even Grandmother and Grandfather think that way?
Sarah didn't make friends easily at school. She didn't tell anyone that her parents were deaf; they'd make fun of her if they knew. She spoke very little as well, for the interests of these girls were not her interests. These girls played hopscotch and jump rope and jacks. Sarah liked games, but she felt too "old" for these girls. They seemed like babies to her; taking her grandparents admonitions to heart, she'd always felt more concerned with worldly things and how to "take care of" Mama, Papa, and Esther. They didn't invite her home and she didn't invite them. That was just fine with Sarah. Her friends were all deaf. Sarah felt more at ease with these friends--she thought and talked like them.
Grandmother and Grandfather bought a radio for Sarah. "You need to know what's going on in the world, dear Sarah. We want you to listen to the serials and to music and to the news." Mama and Papa saw the wisdom in having a radio; it opened up a whole new world for Sarah--especially music. How she loved the sound of classical music and even jazz! During the years that Sarah listened to the radio and learned about Hitler's increasing power in Europe, all four of her grandparents died. Sarah graduated from high school in June of 1941; her parents and younger sister sat stiffly in the audience, feeling proud and trying to appear to be hearing like everyone else.
Now Sarah had one foot set equally in the deaf and hearing world. She went to work as a stenographer. She brought a book with her all the time because she still found talking with the other women at lunch time an uncomfortable experience. She was developing an interest in men but was shy around the hearing men at work. They kidded her, and she blushed. She could tease and flirt with the deaf boys easily, but she knew they were not for her. "Hearing don't marry deaf," Mama explained. Under the circumstances, perhaps it was easy to understand how easily Sarah became deeply involved with Peter Johnson, a handsome hearing man who met her in the cafeteria and entranced her.
Peter was a graduate of the Naval Academy, a young officer about to be commissioned. He was attracted to Sarah's quiet good looks and sat down at her table. Sarah's eyes left the book she was reading and never went back. They went out to dances and the movies all summer. Sarah told Peter her parents couldn't hear. They invited Peter to the house. Peter was uncomfortable about it and declined every invitation.
"So they didn't meet until we got married, right before Peter went overseas," Mrs. Johnson explained. "It all happened so fast, we had to have a civil ceremony before a judge. Peter was shipping out within forty-eight hours so we really only had the one night together. We didn't stay at the house very long; I could see Peter didn't like it."
"How did they get on after the war was over?" Elizabeth asked. She reflected that she'd had some experience with this kind of difficulty, too, only from the other perspective.
"They didn't," Mrs. Johnson answered. "My father was dead by then, and--"
"Where's your husband now, Mrs. Johnson?" Roger interrupted.
"We got divorced," Mrs. Johnson said faintly.
"I see. I'm sorry I asked that," Roger asked, feeling embarrassed. He had a lot of experience with that himself.
"Was it because he couldn't accept your parents?" Elizabeth asked with sympathy.
Mrs. Johnson shrugged and answered with a little bitterness, "Actually, he couldn't accept our children--the deaf ones."
Roger and Elizabeth again exchanged glances, shocked. Roger cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I'm sorry Mrs. Johnson, but I interrupted you before. You said your father died?"
"Yes, this happened after Peter went overseas. I knew I was expecting, and I was so excited and wrote him about it. He was very proud to hear it. I guess he bragged a lot to his friends. The year Papa died was a very eventful year not only for us Americans but for my family."
Her sister Esther met a young deaf machinist named Jerry. Factories had a great demand for machinists, and Jerry accepted a good offer in Rockport. He and Esther got married and moved away to Rockport. This was the first real parting of the family since the deaths of the grandparents; even Sarah's marriage hadn't altered where she was living. Sarah missed Esther terribly; they'd been so close.
Sarah had only begun to feel her baby move and kick when Papa died. The neighborhood around the church had gone into a decline with the advent of the Depression and had never recovered. Sarah and her family had since moved miles from the church, and Mama often complained about the dangers in the neighborhood. Other parishioners had talked about moving the location of the church as well, but there wasn't enough money. One night, Papa stayed at the church late into the evening with the treasurer, preparing income taxes.
In the middle of that night, Sarah awoke to someone banging at the door. She felt a jolt of terror when she opened the door and found two policemen standing there. She let them into the foyer. "Miss, may I ask if you recognize this wallet?" one of the policemen asked. Sarah nodded, stunned. It was her father's billfold. "Papa's," she whispered.
"Ma'am, is your mother here?" the other policeman asked. "I'm afraid something's happened, and we'll need to speak to her."
"You better tell me first," Sarah said, her voice barely audible. "My mother can't hear."
The policemen exchanged looks. "Maybe that's why--" the first one said. He stopped, looked at Sarah sympathetically, and explained, "Mrs. Johnson, your father was shot outside near the Christ Memorial Methodist Church tonight. Apparently he was about to get in his car when he was approached by someone who wanted to rob him. Witness heard the gunshot and came outside and saw a man running away. The man dropped this wallet on the street."
"Papa shot? Is he hurt badly? Will you take us to the hospital?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but your father is dead. I guess he didn't hear the man trying to rob him."
Sarah fainted dead away on the floor.
"My God," Roger muttered.
"Ah, well, it was years ago now," Mrs. Johnson said to alleviate Roger's discomfort. "He was a good father. I hoped Peter would be a good father too, but I guess I made a mistake in judgement about that." Mrs. Johnson felt uncomfortable talking about all this. She really was used to being the housekeeper who came, attended to everyone's needs, and then returned home in the evening. When Elizabeth reached out and took her hand, Mrs. Johnson was moved. They really did care about her! She decided she could confide a little more.
In the same year, Sarah had a baby boy--named Peter, Jr., of course. Peter came home on leave and although he didn't say anything, he made it very plain that he was not pleased to have Mama in the house with them. Sarah was confused. What was she to do? She couldn't have Mama living on her own. Mama needed her, too, and Mama was especially helpful with the baby. Mama watched little Pete while Sarah worked.
This time, Sarah worked evenings, as a cleaning lady at the factory. She discovered she was pregnant again, too. Sarah had a baby girl, Mary Ann (after Peter's mother and Mama), and now there were two babies to care for. Mama was so good with the babies. She signed to them all the time, and they were signing back by the time each was six months old. How could she ask Mama to leave now?
In fact, she didn't need to until the end of the war, and then Mama went to live with Esther and her husband Jerry in Rockport. Now Sarah felt totally lonely, totally cut off from her family and deaf friends. Once Peter came back, she never saw any of them anymore.
Peter was different than Papa. Sarah realized she really hadn't known Peter very well before they married. He didn't want her to work anymore, which was understandable with two babies in the house. He became a manager in the factory Sarah used to work in. He seemed to prefer being there to being at home. He didn't like to be around the babies; they were noisy, smelly, and exasperated him. He didn't seem to notice how lonely Sarah was and how she clung to him. He wasn't especially pleased to learn they were going to be parents again. In fact, Sarah even had a secret fear about the children she was keeping from Peter because she wasn't sure how he'd react.
They bought a house in the suburbs. It was roomy but far from anyone Sarah knew, hearing or deaf. She found it very hard to make friends, and her loneliness increased because as her pregnancy advanced, Peter found more and more excuses to stay at work. Sarah would waddle down to the park and sit on a bench under a tree watching Pete and Mary Ann play. She wished she had the courage to speak to some of the other mothers she saw there. They all seemed so lively, and she felt so drab and uninteresting.
One day, a police car raced by the park, sirens wailing. Sarah jumped, startled. Then she froze, staring at her two children. Now she was positive about her fear because neither had reacted at all. They were placidly playing in the sandbox. Trying not to panic, Sarah thought hard and realized that Pete had never said more than "Ma" or "Dada" and he was almost three years old! Mary Ann had babbled a lot when she was younger, but now she was 18 months old and only said a few words and that those words sounded blurred. "That night I saw the--the--apparition, a ghost, I guess," Mrs. Johnson explained to the very wide-eyed Elizabeth and Roger.
She slept on the couch in the living room because she was so big and her tossing and turning disturbed Peter. In the middle of the night, she woke up because of a glowing light coming in through the kitchen window. Staring at it, she was horrified to discover she was paralyzed and couldn't move. The light came right through the kitchen window and moved toward her, growing bigger. The light began to dissipate, and Sarah realized she was seeing the disembodied shoulder and arm of a man, covered in khaki. The arm was bent at the elbow; the hand was reaching out, clenching and unclenching into a fist. The arm moved toward her inexorably.
"It was awful," Mrs. Johnson recalled, "and I couldn't move or breathe. Just when I thought that fist was going to touch me, I felt something jump out of my chest." She hesitated, unsure how to go on. "I don't really know how to explain it, other than it was like my soul jumped out to fight the devil."
The arm disappeared. Sarah told no one what happened. She didn't think anyone would believe her. "You're the first people I've ever told," she explained, "and only because of everything that's happened here."
"Did you ever find out why it appeared to you as a disembodied arm?" Elizabeth asked.
Without answering directly, Mrs. Johnson answered, "I know whose arm it was. It was Peter's, I am sure of it. And I suspect it was a warning."
Sarah brought the children to the doctor and he sent them to the local hospital for hearing tests. Peter at least felt it important enough to be there when the doctor delivered the news, but Sarah was totally unprepared for his reaction. Pete was profoundly deaf, which meant he heard nothing; Mary Ann had a severe hearing loss and could hear a little.
Peter jumped to his feet, startling Sarah and the doctor. Glaring at her, he said harshly, "This is YOUR fault!" Then he stormed out of the room. He didn't return that night and the next day. When he finally did return, Sarah could see he was very drunk.
"You knew my mother and father was deaf," Sarah said reprovingly. "I told you that."
"You didn't tell me you were going to pass it on," Peter accused.
"What do you mean, 'pass it on'? You act like Pete and Mary Ann had some dreadful disease."
"Well, don't they? What good are they? They can't hear or talk--they might as well be in an institution!"
Sarah was deeply shocked and hurt. "How can you say that! You know my Mama and Papa were smart people!"
"No, I don't! How could I know? I couldn't talk to them. And I can't talk to these two, either! Maybe you can, Sarah, but I can't! And this is not a deaf world. How will anybody else understand them? My God, they can't even go to school! It's like they're retards!"
Sarah was weeping. "You CAN talk to them, Peter! I can teach you! And they can go to school--they can go to the school for the deaf. It's not so terrible, Peter! Please!"
"Oh, God!" shouted Peter. "You'll teach me how to do those crazy looking hand signals, will you? And have everyone staring at us like we're a family of lunatics? No, thank you! And what about THAT one?" He pointed at her belly. "That's going to be some dummy, too, huh?"
Sarah shrieked hysterically and covered her face. Peter left then, and she didn't see him again until after Harry was born. They saw each other in divorce court. Sarah had brought little Harry with her, leaving Pete and Mary Ann with her mother and Esther. The last thing she ever said to Peter was, "This is your son, Harry. HE is NOT a dummy. He can hear!"
After Peter left her, Sarah took her two children and went to Rockport. She moved in temporarily with her sister and their family. The little house was cramped because Mama was there and Esther and Jerry had their own two sons, but they made room. Sarah began working again as a housekeeper--for the Collinses. The house became less crowded when Pete, Mary Ann, and Sarah's two nephews were all old enough to go to school--they went to the school for the deaf.
"It's funny, after everything Peter said--I never had any problems at all with Pete or Mary Ann," Mrs. Johnson mused. "Pete's just started law school, and Mary Ann is teaching at the school for the deaf."
"Law school?" Roger was really impressed.
"Yes, my Pete is a hard worker, all right. And times have changed since they were little, you know? My children are not ashamed to be deaf. They sign out in public places." Mrs. Johnson smiled. "It's something I can get used to. These times are much better for them. Yes, Pete will be a lawyer. Not a court room lawyer, no, but what he calls an 'advocacy' attorney."
"My, that is something to be proud of," Elizabeth said.
"Yes, it's really ironic that it would be Harry I'd have all the trouble with. That boy was a problem from the first day he started school. He never listened to his teachers, never wanted to do his school work or his homework either. I guess it was just a bad time to be born because young people were starting to experiment with those drugs and Lord knows what else. Well, Harry fell in with a bad crowd in high school. They were all smoking that dope--that stuff they call pot, you know. And Harry and his friends stole a car. He was released into my custody, but I just couldn't control that boy-especially after Mama died." Mrs. Johnson sounded deeply grieved.
“I remember when your mother died,” Elizabeth said. “You came to live with us soon after.”
“Yes,” Mrs. Johnson agreed. “It was the loneliness, you know. Jerry had gotten an offer to go with a defense company on Long Island after Mama died, and he and my sister moved. I had no one-to take care of, that is.”
“What happened to Harry?”
" Well, that's another secret I never told. Harry was arrested again. When Harry came to work for you three years ago, he'd just gotten out of prison for something called 'possession'."
"Good Lord," said Roger.
"I was too ashamed to tell you. He was selling that stuff to his friends and other strangers. I didn't know it until I got the call from the sheriff in Rockport. When they caught him, I guess he'd sold everything except for the little bit it takes to make a couple of those things. Otherwise, he would've been in real trouble."
"Imagine that!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Tell me, Mrs. Johnson--"
"Oh, dear, after all this, I guess you better call me Sarah," Mrs. Johnson interupted.
Elizabeth smiled. "Sarah. What did your ex-husband think of all this, Sarah? Did you ever tell him?"
"Oh, I never saw him again after the divorce. I don't know how much he knew or not. He never saw any of the children. I did get word of him last year, though."
"Oh?"
Mrs. Johnson had a grim little smile on her face. "It seems he was killed in a motorcycle accident. He was going around a curve on a wet road and lost control of it. It slid off the road, and no one found him until it was too late." She looked directly at first Elizabeth, then Roger. "He lost his arm in the accident, you see, and bled to death." Mrs. Johnson stood up and smiled again, this time with more humor. "If I don't get these mugs washed, all this rum punch will be dried on and impossible to get off in the morning. Working around here, I find I can still hear my grandmother telling me to do a good job taking care of everyone." Ever the vigilant caretaker, she took the mugs to the kitchen to wash them out so they would be fresh and clean in the morning.
