Little Valley, Wisconsin, a small village of five thousand, sat twenty miles from Green Bay and just a stone’s throw from Lake Michigan. Surrounded by trees, this little town grew roots into a valley that at one time was a boon for logging. But now Little Valley stood on its last legs, trying to survive in a world of progress that was slowly sweeping into the upper peninsula of Wisconsin.
No large companies thrived here, and most people drove the twenty miles to Green Bay, or further to Manitowoc, to earn their daily bread. By delivering basic necessities, a few businesses still scrapped out a living along on the town’s one road. Sid’s Tackle and Bait, A & P Groceries, Dawn’s Laundromat, and Volkmann’s Used Tires and Gas dotted the main road through town, along with a small assortment of shops only open during the tourist and hunting seasons.
Just outside of town, the wind raced through the open window of Allen Young’s 1999 Chevy S-10 pickup truck. Its rust-stained white paint dully shined as the gravel of the road dinged occasionally off of the sidewalls. In the bed of the truck, head held as far from the truck’s side as he could, Allen’s Golden Labrador, Stinker, soaked in the wind as it rushed by.
Looking through the rearview mirror, past Stinker’s jostling body, Allen watched the boxes bounce against the tailgate. He hoped that the glass contents inside the boxes did not break before he arrived at his destination -- 1223 Fair Brook Road.
The quaint, two-story home once owned by his grandmother was now his after her failing bout with pneumonia. Originally, the state of Wisconsin awarded the house to his mother, Samantha, after a long drawn out probate battle. Then, as soon as she signed the papers, she turned the keys of the house over to Allen, not wanting anything to do with the home. Allen knew his mother’s reason was because his father had died in one of the upper bedrooms twenty-one years ago, when Allen was only just six years old.
But even so, Allen did not have any reservations about taking ownership of the property. The house was a sturdily built beauty, made by his grandfather’s own hands after his stint in the army ended in the year 1945. A proud and brave World War II veteran, Grandpa Paul had reached sergeant at the end of his last tour, but all the blood and bullets had taken their toll on him in Germany, and he did not want to continue on in the service.
So, taking his life savings, Grandpa Paul came home, married his high school sweetheart from Brookfield High School in Chicago, Illinois, and brought her to Little Valley to live the American dream. The American dream — ideals set by people with high hopes. Allen wished he and his small family of four could find their new life far from the busy streets of Richmond, Indiana, the city where Allen’s mother had moved to be closer to her parents after his dad’s death.
“Gina will love this place,” Allen said to the rushing wind, as he drove the winding road towards their new home.
He was sure his kids would love it too. Kaylee, age six, and Paulie, age five, were similar in so many ways, though Paulie was an unexpected bundle of joy. Born exactly one year and fifteen days after Kaylee, he was, nonetheless, a whirlwind who would make his name-sake proud.
Looking at his watch, Allen saw that it was quarter to ten. He was supposed to meet Gina and the kids at the house a half hour ago, but a fender bender on Interstate 43 had backed up the traffic for miles.
Allen turned right off of Fair Brook Road onto a gravel drive that meandered a hundred yards up a slight incline through a mass of tall evergreens. Looking again into the rearview mirror, he saw Stinker’s tail start to wag vigorously, beating the rear window. Stinker started barking towards the two story white house as it came into view.
Allen pulled to a stop behind a gold Geo Prism with its trunk popped open, filled with small boxes and three suitcases; its lid pulled down tight by three black and green striped bungee cords. Glad to be finally home, Allen put the truck into park and cut the engine. Before the billowing dust of the gravel driveway settled, Stinker leapt from the truck’s bed. In a heartbeat, he disappeared around the corner of the house’s large screened-in porch.
“Stinker,” Allen called through the open window.
He left the keys in the ignition and stepped out. Shutting the door, he was met with the happy cries of his children as they raced around the corner of the house with Stinker close on their heels.
“Daddy!” Kaylee yelled jumping into Allen’s arms.
He twirled her around and then reached out a hand to ruffle Paulie’s mass of sandy blonde hair.
“Hey, Bud,” Allen said, as Paulie pulled away from his hand and slapped him five before running off into the wide yard with Stinker nipping at his heels.
“You’re late.” Gina stepped out of the screened in porch. The door slapped closed behind her with a rattle.
“Fender bender on the highway,” Allen replied, setting his daughter down.
As Kaylee ran off to catch her brother, Allen met his wife halfway in the yard. Embracing, he gave her a quick kiss on the neck, breathing in the fresh strawberry scent of her hair.
“Not you, I hope,” Gina said, giving Allen a squeeze before letting go.
“Nope, some moron who thought he was on the autobahn,” Allen replied, hooking a thumb into a belt loop on the back of Gina’s black jeans.
With his arm securely around her, they walked towards the house. Allen looked up at the coal colored shingles and noticed the gutters needed cleaning. Making a mental note, he reached for the white painted screen door and pulled it open. Letting Gina go in first, Allen looked back towards the tree line of the property.
“Stay in the yard,” Allen said loudly to the kids.
Kaylee and Paulie waved their acknowledgement, though in their state of play they did not hear a word he said. Allen closed the door firmly, but a warp in the wood caused it to pop back open.
“Like the house?” Allen asked, as he followed Gina into the living room.
Not answering, Gina stepped into the center of the empty room.
“No?” Allen asked.
“Well…” Gina replied, not looking back as her voice trailed off.
A bad feeling slipped through Allen — the sudden thought that he had made the wrong decision in dragging his family states away from the home they had always known. But that did not last long as Gina could not hide the smile that forced its way out.
Stepping forward, Allen took Gina in his arms again and hugged her tight. Gina gave him a quick kiss on the lips and said, “I love it.”
Turning away, she walked further into the long, empty living room. Glancing out of the windows set on either side of the fireplace on the far wall, Gina saw Stinker shoot by, his long tail held up high in the air.
“Delivery van will be here on Tuesday,” Gina continued. “So I guess we will have to sleep on the floor till then.”
“The kids will love it. It’ll be like camping. We can have marshmallows in the fireplace.” Allen looked over the room’s empty white walls. He barely remembered this house. But a few images did still stand out.
“I have to run to the store first. We don’t have anything except crackers, soda, and a banana that Paulie refuses to eat. Somewhere along the way, he decided that eating anything yellow is illegal and holds the death penalty,” Gina said.
Allen quietly agreed with Paulie. He never was a banana lover. He preferred raspberries.
“The auctioneers missed something when they were here.”
“What?” Allen asked as he followed Gina out of the living room and down the short hallway that led to the kitchen.
Turning midway down the hall, Gina stepped right and headed up the stairwell to the second floor. Each step groaned with age as they progressed.
“It’s in one of the bedrooms,” Gina said, leading the way.
Thinking that the auctioneers were unable to sell grandma’s bed or armoire, Allen was not too concerned. One or two pieces of furniture were no big deal, but as they passed the closed door to grandma’s room, Allen started to wonder just what it was they had missed.
Coming to the end of the hall, Gina stopped at a door. She looked at Allen and saw trepidation in his eyes. Grabbing the handle, Gina opened it and gave the door a push.
Light filtered into the room through a series of curtainless windows that looked out over the front lawn, leaving bright streaks along the light blue walls. A two-foot wide workbench handmade from two-by-fours, lined the wall just under the windows. Under that sat a four legged stool tucked in neatly with a series of cardboard boxes, all sealed with duct tape.
A knee high table that encompassed most of the ten-by sixteen-foot room caught Allen’s eye. Covered in imitation grass, the sheet of plywood was lined with dirt roads and various types of trees of all shapes and sizes. Sitting towards the center of the sheet, Allen saw the small town of Little Valley. All of the village’s buildings were in place as they had been twenty-one years ago, especially the hill lined with the winding driveway that led to the two-story house they now stood in.
Stepping to the front of the room, Gina leaned over the workbench and looked out of the windows. From her height she could clearly see the road that hid behind the numerous trees running the length of the property.
She turned around and saw Allen standing in the threshold, his feet glued to the floor. His usually calm face now showed grief. Then it dawned on her. Stepping quickly to the door, she pushed Allen back into the hall with one hand, and closed the door with the other.
Hugging Allen tightly, she said, “Baby, I’m sorry. I totally forgot.”
Reaching up with one hand, Allen hugged Gina close, and swallowed hard, “It’s alright.”
Letting go, Gina started to walk down the hall. Not hearing Allen’s footsteps, she stopped and turned to see him facing the door.
Slowly Allen took hold of the doorknob. Hesitating a moment, he turned the brass knob and pushed the door open. Looking into the room, he could hear Gina walk towards him.
Taking a step into the room, Allen could not take his eyes off of the replica that had been such a large part of his young childhood. The only clear memories he still had of his father were right here, working on this replica his grandfather had started so many years ago.
“He died here,” Allen said, more to himself than to Gina who stood in the doorway.
“Mom found him on a Sunday morning. He had a heart attack while we were at church.”
Leaning her head against the doorframe, Gina listened, letting Allen get the pain out. He never talked about his father. And she knew that moving back here would bring up some of the pain he had buried down so deep he had forgotten it was there.
“Thirty years old and he died of a heart attack,” Allen spit out, looking at Gina. She could see tears well up in his eyes as his hands clenched.
“I was six. I can still see him working on it. Always changing things around as buildings came and went. The last thing I remember was I got to glue trees over here.” Allen pointed towards a clump of evergreens at the back of the table.
Gina stepped into the room and took Allen’s hand. He responded by gripping it tightly.
“Your grandpa died here, too?” Gina asked, even though she knew the truth. She had heard stories from Allen’s mother before the big move.
Allen nodded but did not have time to respond as the kids came charging down the hallway. Stinker followed along, sniffing at every door. Stopping at the threshold, he sat down, not entering.
“Cool,” Kaylee said, looking at the small town before her. “Mom, there’s our house,” she continued in an excited voice, pointing up the hill towards the replica.
Gina bent down to Kaylee’s height. “Yes, it is. Your grandpa made it.”
“Can we play with it?” Paulie asked, eager to start.
Gina looked up at Allen, who nodded. Smiling, she replied, “I guess. But be careful.”
Stepping up to the table, Paulie spied a scaled down version of a 1950s black sedan hearse near the center of the one-road town. He started to roll it down the blacktopped street, slowing at a stop sign. Not coming to a full stop, he rolled on through. Kaylee showed up with a state trooper car and rolled it toward Paulie’s car, making a high pitched siren sound.
“Busted,” Allen said, as his son got pulled over.
“You want to keep it?” Gina asked Allen, knowing that he had nothing of his father except for a few old photos.
“I don’t know,” Allen replied, not sure what to do with the miniature of the valley.
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