He rubs his chin. “I should have. Let me think. Where would they be …? Claudia, please look in the attic for the document boxes with plans and correspondence from 1978.” He turns to me. “That’s when we did the work. Mandy had just taken over the house from her father who’d passed away that winter.”
He seems to know a lot about my auntie. I’m excited and can hardly wait to ask him more questions. But we’ve surprised him with our visit and I feel I need to offer a way out.
“We can come back another time if it’s inconvenient at the moment.”
He dismisses my suggestion with a wave of his hand.
“Don’t worry. We have time. It won’t take long to find the documents. I have them all ordered by year. Take a seat.”
We sit around a large table. Scott leans over to me and whispers, “See, told you so.”
I’m overwhelmed by Mr. Brewer’s kindness.
“I don’t know much about my aunt. You knew her quite well?”
He grabs with both hands the opportunity to talk about the past.
“I knew her very well. People in the district liked her, despite her strange father.”
“Do you know when they settled here?”
“As far as I remember, Eduard Wright, your grandfather, built the house in 1945 for his family. He built it himself, something that most people in the area both admired and frowned upon. Right after the war, to survive, you bartered your skills. For example, you employ a builder for any building work you need and in return, you plow their fields or shear their sheep, depending on your skills. That way people kept their dignity, and it showed mutual respect.”
“That’s a great system.”
“Yes, and it worked at a time when nobody had money. With Eduard it was different. Nobody knew where he and his family came from. They showed up one day and he started building the homestead.”
“In my old family bible, it says the family arrived by ship from Europe in 1874. They settled somewhere else before they came down here.”
“Ah, that makes sense. When he finished the house his wife and two daughters arrived. Everyone wondered why he had chosen to live so far away from Port Somers. People had lots of compassion for his wife. She had one miscarriage after the other. If you go to the old cemetery in Old Quarry Valley, you’ll find at least six graves if not more of his children who were either stillborn or died soon after birth.”
“I’ve been there. I was looking for Auntie Amanda’s grave and saw all the little stone markers.”
“After a while, your grandmother was only a shadow of herself. There was lots of talk about them in the community. People were afraid of him. Your grandmother died soon after she gave birth to your mother. People said she simply lost the will to live and gave up.”
“I wasn’t aware my grandparents built the house. Thank you for telling me all that. It’s special to meet someone who knows so much about my family. I hardly remember my parents and have only faint memories of my aunt.”
He pats my hands. “When your grandmother died, people came out to the homestead and wanted to help him. They felt sorry for him having to care for his two daughters. Sarah was not even one year old and Amanda must have been about five. But he didn’t appreciate people just dropping in. If I remember right, he once set the dogs on people who showed up at the house.”
“Oh my, the poor man.” Scott shuddered. “Just thinking about taking care of a baby and a toddler by oneself. What an achievement.”
“Yes, the locals found some compassion for him but he never returned it. He seemed to have connections to the Gateway people and spend a lot of time with them after his younger daughter Sarah married Eugene Seagar. I don’t recall how that marriage came about. She already had a six-year-old son. There was talk that the baby was Eduard’s. It surprised people in Port Somers when she married Eugene.”
“Eduard lies in the old cemetery as well. Soon after his death, Amanda started being more social in the community; she helped in the kindergarten and school. I tell you she was a lovely woman and many of the lads made googly eyes when she walked past them. She must have had lots of proposals. Your aunt was a beautiful, caring woman.”
“So, when you got the job to do her extension, you did so gladly?”
“Yes, very gladly, but don’t tell my wife. Even though I met her much later, she is bound to be jealous.” He chuckled. “Women, you know? Maybe you don’t know, being one yourself.”
At that moment the door opens and his daughter returns with a brown cardboard box.
“Sorry, it took so long. The box was in the furthest corner of the attic.”
Our host grabs the box. “Let me see.” He digs through a large pile of folders, pulls one out, and puts it on the table. “These are the sketches of the work I did for you aunt.”
Scott leans over the table and studies the drawings. “What’s this?” He points to a square next to the shed.
“Hmm, It’s a trap door to a ground cellar.”
“A cellar? Under the house? That’s new to me.”
“No, my dear, it’s not under the house, it’s only under the shed. It has always been there. I only replaced the lid for your aunt.”
“If it’s alright with you, I would like to make a copy of the plans and permits.”
“You are welcome to all of my documents. Take them and bring them back when you’ve made copies.”
I can’t believe how helpful Mr. Brewer is. “Thank you for taking the time to tell me about my family. It means a lot.” I get up to leave and Mr. Brewer puts the drawings back into the folder and hands them to Scott.
“It was my pleasure to help Amanda’s niece. Don’t be
