She sipped her coffee and looked grimly over the rim at him wondering what to say next.
“He’ll be back when it's ready, and you can be on your way in something roadworthy. Consider it seven years’ worth of Christmas and birthday presents.”
“You’re too good to me. I hate needing your help.”
“That’s what family is for.”
She smiled at him affectionately, topped up his cup then joined the others for a lively breakfast of stories and catching up.
-----
Amanda and Sarah spent the day wandering the family farm. The barn was locked up tight, and when they looked through the cracks, a sliver of light revealed Papa's old sky-blue Chevy pickup. He’d bought it new in 1962 and while he’d purchased and discarded other cars throughout his life, he’d told Amanda this one was special.
She flicked at the lock, looked into the cylinder and grinned. She slipped a piece of wire out of her shorts and fumbled with the tumblers. “CLICK!”
“You’re getting good at that.” said Sarah.
“I lost both sets of keys. If I wasn’t, my bike would still be at school.”
“You ever gonna show me how to do that?” asked Sarah.
“One day,” she said. “Or you could just ask dad.”
The barn door swung open; the sweet smell of hay filled the air. Sarah sneezed and started wheezing.
“Don’t breathe in too deeply,” cautioned Amanda.
Sarah reached into her pocket and took out her blue inhaler. She took a puff and after a moment she began to breathe easier.
The truck was unlocked and as the girls slid into the cab, Amanda got the tingly feeling in her stomach again. She fondly recalled how Papa let her steer and shift the gears while sitting on his lap. He’d always promised to teach her to drive it when she was old enough. Amanda wondered to herself if she could talk her uncle into teaching her. They wrote their names in the dust and wandered around the ancient building, checking out the old tools and the antique machines that had been in the family for generations. Finding nothing further to explore they locked the barn up tight and started back.
On their way to the house, Amanda noticed a trail that ran out from beyond the barn she’d couldn’t recall having seen before. They started up the smooth, well-worn path; ferns and low brush tickling their legs as they walked.
“Where are we going?” wheezed Sarah.
“I don’t remember this. I want to see where it goes.”
“But, I’m hot.”
“We won’t go far.”
The trail led up a steep hill and ended at the green, covered bridge that spanned the deep ravine. The unfinished wood was rough to the touch like the barn, but without the signs of wear. The opening was tall enough that even on her toes Amanda couldn’t reach the frame. Amanda flicked at an antique bronze padlock that hung off a faded wooden gate. They saw only blackness through the few cracks and the wooden barrier was too tall for them to peek over.
“Where does it go?” asked Sarah.
“I dunno, but it has to go somewhere.”
When the girls looked around the sides to see where it led, they saw nothing but more woods. The ground on the opposite side of the bridge rose sharply to a high hill that was lost in the
trees. Amanda wondered how the road must have had to curve
sharply one way or the other before the forest grew back. The sunlight cast a haze about the trees across the ravine, like heat coming off asphalt. Humidity, she supposed. Determined to see where the trail led Amanda started to slide down the edge towards the creek below, intending to climb up the other side.
“Amanda, it’s too steep.”
Halfway down, Amanda nodded and clamored back up, skinning her knee in the process.
“We’ll ask Uncle Everett,” said Amanda as they turned away and headed for home.
The girls were hot and sweaty when they got back to the farm. El was nowhere to be seen, and Uncle Everett was sitting on the porch with his laptop on his lap. The girls wandered over then quietly sat and watched him as typed at his keyboard.
“Uncle Everett, where does the bridge in the woods go?” asked Amanda after several long moments of silence.
“Over the ravine.” he replied.
“I mean was there a road there or something?”
“I suppose there must have been. I can’t think of someone building a bridge for no reason. Can you?”
Not entirely satisfied with the answer Amanda relented. “I guess not.”
“Uncle Everett, what are you doing here?” asked Amanda.
“Farming,” he replied.
“No, I meant, I know you had a restaurant in the city. Why are you here?” she asked.
“I’d intended to sell the farm when your grandparents passed, I’m not the farmer as your Papa was. But that didn’t work out so I sold my restaurant and stayed. Jake next door helps out and I make due,” he said.
“Why did you stay?”
“You could just say the place has a hold on me.”
Sarah climbed up next to him and looked at his computer screen. “Do you have internet?” she asked.
“Of course, I have the internet! I’m not one of those off the grid rednecks you read about. It’s not the fastest, but it works for what I need, news, emails and such.” He looked at Amanda, rubbing his hand over the stubble on his chin. “Do you need the WiFi password?”
“No point, my phone is dead.”
“Right. Your mother mentioned that. If you’re like every other teen in the world, you’re probably having with drawl symptoms,” his tone was light; factual without being judgmental.
“A little,” she smiled, slightly embarrassed by her family’s poverty.
“There’s a blue plastic bag from Ron’s Electronics on the desk in my office. Can you bring it to me please?” he asked politely.
Amanda had already explored the house but hadn’t gone into his office. It would be too personal she thought. The hinges creaked as she entered, sending a tingle down her spine. Along the nearest wall, built-in shelves made from the local pine were filled with interesting looking leather-bound books. A dormant cast iron stove was tucked neatly against the far wall.
Commanding the room, his well-used desk made from rich hardwood, was a testament to the craftsmanship of the men and women who settled the land over a century ago. Behind it was her grandfather’s faded leather chair that would have been at home in the office of a factory owner from the same era. A fine leaded glass window filled the room with bright sunlight that was scattered about the room by Nana’s treasured crystal nick knacks; lovingly collected over the years and each with a special story. Amanda found the bag and scooped it up, careful not to snoop into the papers scattered around the blotter.
As she turned to leave, she noticed an elaborate glass covered stand with a thick leather-bound book on it. Strangely, she felt drawn to it. Its cover was well worn, and there were
faded red and green markings in a language she didn’t recognize. The thick roughly cut pages stuck out unevenly and were almost
the same tea color as old brown paper shopping bags.
She reached out. As soon as she touched the lid, she felt the return of the tingly sensation she experienced coming up the drive and she thought she heard the sound of distant whale song that reminded her of her mother’s relaxation tapes. Suddenly and without warning, every emotion she’d ever felt before: fear, joy, remorse, sadness, envy, compassion, all flooded through her as memories streamed through her mind like someone flipping through a magazine that contained the stories of her life. The memories reached the blue pickup truck in the barn, and as suddenly as the sensation started, it disappeared.
Trembling slightly, she scrambled from the office, convincing herself she’d imagined it and that a combination of Nana’s things and her mother’s pending departure had simply overwhelmed her. She took the deep breathes her Jiu Jitsu instructor Sensei Tanaka had taught her to use to calm herself. As she breat
hed, she focused on a point in space, her nerves calmed, her heart slowed. With her emotions under control, with the bag in hand, she glanced back only once before closing the door and returning to the porch.
Trevor cocked his head and looked at her curiously as she passed. He rose, and after a long stretch, he silently padded along behind her out onto the porch where he curled up in a corner.
Sarah was busy interrogating Uncle Everett when she rejoined them with the bag.
“Why don’t you have a wife?” she asked.
“What makes you think I don’t have a wife?” he replied.
“That’s a very personal question,” chided her sister.
“Sorry,” said Sarah.
“No need to apologize. I get asked that question a lot,” he said.
He took the bag from Amanda and removed a white box the size of a book. It had a picture of a computer screen on one
side and a cameo of a piece of fruit with a bite out of it on the
other. With avarice in her eyes, Amanda bit her thumbnail and stared at the box, not daring to hope it was for her.
“This is so you can stay in touch with your friends.” He handed the tablet out towards her. Before she took it, he pulled it back. “There are a few rules. You’re to share it with your sister,” Amanda nodded.
“It will go off before midnight.”
Amanda nodded.
“Any and all use will be rated G.”
Amanda looked disappointed.
“Ok. PG,” he said.
“Unless it’s raining or an emergency, you’ll put it away after breakfast until after dinner and chores,” he said.
Amanda nodded.
“If you follow these rules, it won’t be just a loan. You’ll be allowed to keep it when you leave,” he said.
Amanda thanked him profusely. As he handed her the tablet, everyone jumped when Trevor started barking. “Woof-woof-woof-woof-woof!”
They all looked up and two of the most peculiar looking young men Amanda had ever seen were walking towards them up the drive. They were both tall and thin with boyish faces. They wore rain boots that went up past their knees, and each of them was carrying a fishing pole in one hand and a wicker tackle box in the other. They looked like they’d just stepped off a fishing trawler from the Maritimes with their bright yellow slickers and big wide yellow hats. Sweat ran down their faces. Clearly, they were overdressed for fishing on the small local lakes that were spread all around rural Ontario.
“What in the blazes do you think you’re doing here?” barked Everett when they stopped at the base of the steps and bowed.
“Forgive us, your Eminence. Queen Windimere has sent us with an urgent request for you to accompany us,” said one of
the emissaries. The other was staring at Amanda with a beguiled
look on his face.
“You tell Windy if she wants to speak to me, she can haul her pretty little backside down from her high tower and present herself to me. I’m not someone she can beckon anymore,” he said firmly.
“But your Eminence. It’s urgent! Elkor has broken the treaty!”
“That’s not my concern anymore.”
The other young man’s blank stare was gone. He was now smiling shyly at Amanda. Everett looked over at his niece. Amanda rolled her eyes at the attention.
“And you. Stop that smiling. There will be none of that!” he admonished the young man who cowered under his glare.
“Now be off before I set Trevor on you!”
The messengers backed away meekly.
“And you look ridiculous. Whoever chose those disguises should be flogged.”
“Woof-woof-woof-woof-woof!” barked Trevor. The two young men turned and fled from the angry dog.
“Queen Windimere?” asked Amanda.
“Live action role play, it’s something I was into but not anymore,” he said grumpily.
Something in his tone seemed odd and Amanda was suddenly sure she didn’t believe him, but if she didn’t, the alternative conclusion was even more unbelievable.
Jack and Jill
Amanda was on the porch brushing the day’s tangles out of her sister’s hair and Uncle Everett was grilling burgers on an old charcoal grill when a shiny red pickup truck with decals on the doors that read, Jack’s Auto, trundled up the drive with the blue Subaru trailing along behind it. A tall fit looking man who looked more like an urban hipster than a rural mechanic got out of the truck and waved.
Her mother ran out to her car like she was seeing her long-lost love. She wandered around the freshly washed and waxed Subaru, inspecting it carefully. There were new tires, and the cracked windshield had been replaced. The familiar rattles and squeaks from the motor that she learned to ignore were gone, and the car sounded as smooth as any new car right off the lot.
“Were you able to get all the parts you needed?” asked Everett.
“Yep. I even got the AC fixed. It’s a bit of patch job, but it should hold well enough,” he said proudly.
A slim, pleasant looking woman got out of the shiny Subaru carrying what looked like a pie. She was remarkably well put together for a woman delivering a car. She was wearing a crisp sleeveless blouse and a floral print A-line skirt. Her hair was done, and she wore bright red lipstick. “Hi Everett!” she said as she waved enthusiastically.
“Hi, Jill. Thanks for bringing the car. I would have come to get it,” said Everett.
“Jack and Jill?” asked Amanda sarcastically.
“Be nice,” whispered Uncle Everett with a smirk.
“No problem. I’ve been meaning to come by for that visit we keep putting off. And I’ve brought a pie,” Jill said girlishly.
“Well, dinners on. Can you stay?” he said politely. With a boyish grin on his face, he winked at Amanda.
His warm expression was so genuine that she couldn’t help but grin back at him. She considered the pie, and couldn’t help herself from being suspicious that the visitors weren’t hoping to get an invitation to supper. The presumption annoyed her a little at first, but Uncle Everett seemed not to care so she let it go.
“Not if it’s any trouble,” said Jack, smiling at El.
Amanda watched El roll her eyes at the mechanic. “C’mon in. There’s plenty,” she said. Amanda wondered at the exchange, and was curious if there wasn’t perhaps some past history between the pair.
The weather was ideal for hamburgers, potato salad, and a few cold beers and sodas. The oppressive heat of the day had faded into a pleasant summer evening, and the girls listened intently as the four adults sat around the faded picnic table chatting about old times. After a beer or two, El relaxed a bit and even laughed at the odd bit of nostalgia. Amanda and Sarah laughed hysterically at some of the stories.
“Mom, I didn’t know you were such a rebel,” said Amanda after a story that involved beer, a stolen front-end loader, and a scoop of manure on the hood of a cheerleader’s car.
“See what you’ve done Jack. Now my daughters think I’m a criminal.”
“We all do dumb things, mom,” said Amanda; causing her mother to blush.
Later, while they were cleaning up in the kitchen, through the open window, they could hear Jill chatting closely to Everett and catering to his every need whether real or imagined.
“Oh, mom. Please just shoot me if I ever act like that around a boy,” said Amanda.
“I’ll remind you that you said that one day,” she laughed.
“I think she likes him,” said Sarah.
“All the girls like your uncle,” said El.
“Why isn’t he married then?” asked Amanda.
“He got close once after Nana and Papa passed. He thought he’d found the one. But then things fell apart. I don’t know much more than that,” replied El.
“Woof-woof-woof-woof-woof!”
The barking startled the girls, and Amanda almost dropped a dish.
She flicked a switch by the door and spotlights lit up the gravel drive like a baseball s
tadium. They stepped out onto the porch and were greeted by the sight of a very peculiar procession marching towards the house. At its head was a beautiful statuesque woman elegantly dressed as though for a summer cotillion.
Immediately behind her were several attendants more appropriately dressed for an afternoon of tennis rather than a stroll along a country road. They were followed closely a troop of men dressed like golfers from a bygone time wearing baggy checkered pants and plaid Tam O’Shanters, each of them with a golf club resting on their shoulder. They moved more in the manner of soldiers on parade than friends out for an evening stroll. Her entourage stopped at a respectful distance as the woman approached the small gathering.
“Don’t you dare!” hollered Everett. “You go back to where you came from.”
“Husband,” said the statuesque woman as she neared the table. “I believe that your demand was that if I wanted to speak with you, I was to, as you put it, haul my pretty little backside down from my high tower. I have done as you’ve asked. Would you speak now with me?” she said.
“Husband?” said everyone in unison.
“It’s just like you to make a scene like this isn’t it?” snapped Everett. “Ok. Damn it. I’ll listen to what you have to say,” and he motioned her towards an isolated area of the drive where they could speak privately.
Amanda stared at the odd scene unfolding around her. As
she watched her uncle and the beautiful woman, she could hear that their voices were quite cross, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was clear that the woman was making a plea to her uncle and that he was trying to dissuade her.
A motion from the procession caught Amanda’s eye. The young man from earlier that afternoon was jumping about at the back of the crowd deliberately looking around for her. He waved shyly when he saw that she noticed him, Amanda refused to wave back but blushed at his attention.
Everett stormed back from the conversation with the woman who marched back towards her entourage. When she had rejoined them, they turned and left. He returned to his guests and apologized to them for the interruption. Jack and Jill awkwardly made excuses that it was time to go and headed off down the road in the little red pickup. Amanda thought for sure that she overheard them use the word “weirdo” more than once.
Amanda Applewood and the Return of the False King: An Everworld Book Page 4
