“Just Dean,” Benjamin’s father smiled at his daughter.
“Did it hurt?” one girl asked, ignoring her father as Benjamin held her in his arms.
“Of course it hurt,” another one said, rolling her eyes at what appeared to be her younger sister. “He almost died.”
“This one is Kinsley,” Benjamin said, patting the girl standing next to him on the head. “She’s eight.”
“Was there lots of blood?” the smallest one asked, with barely-concealed enthusiasm. Her short blonde hair matched Benjamin’s. “I bet there was a lot of blood.”
Benjamin laughed, giving her a squeeze. “And this is Gracie. She’s five.”
“Five and a half,” she reminded him.
“The doctors gave me lots of Band-Aids,” he told her, setting her down.
“Oh.” She nodded her head seriously.
Benjamin continued introductions. “That one’s Lauren. She’s twelve.” He pointed to the girl standing next to Judi. Lauren smiled shyly at me, taking her mother’s hand.
“And of course there’s the eldest of the sisters, Rebecca,” he finished.
I flinched as a girl almost my height wrapped her arm around my shoulder as if we were already the best of friends.
“Becca, age fifteen,” she stated for Benjamin, in a playful fashion. I smiled, unsure of what to think of her immediate, and disconcerting familiarity.
“Then there’s the little brother,” a deep voice spoke from behind. Again, there wasn’t much little about Benjamin’s younger brother. I looked from one man, to the other, and then the other, shocked by the resemblances of the Bradshaw men.
“We’re having a picnic!” the youngest one blurted excitedly, tugging my hand. “Do you want to come, Sarah?” I fought the instinctive desire to pull away.
“Sure, um…” I ran through a scatterbrained list through my head. Tracie, Lacy, Katie, Jill? How was I ever going to remember all of their names?
“Gracie, will you help me get Sarah’s bag? It’s a bit heavy for me to carry all by myself.”
Gracie. I repeated her name several times in my head to commit it to memory. Little Gracie reached for my bag and pulled with impressive determination. Benjamin grabbed the handles and together they carried it inside.
A blast of warm air welcomed me as we moved through the front door. I glanced around the room, appreciating the walnut floors, the stacked log walls, and the tongue-and-groove ceilings. Two wagon-wheel chandeliers hung from separate wooden beams that ran the distance of the large space. A rustic stone fireplace rose from the floor to the vaulted ceiling, a magnificent blaze already alive within the hearth. Centered in the middle of the family room, in front of the fire, was one of the largest sectional couches I had ever seen.
Dolls, hair accessories, and random toys in all different hues of pink were strewn across the couch and floors. Colored paper, multiple drawings in progress, and art materials covered the glass coffee table. Gracie suddenly raced past me on a small tricycle.
“Watch how fast I can go, Sarah!” she called behind her. The plastic black wheels made a hollow grinding noise against the floor.
I involuntarily smiled, taking to the love-worn condition of the cabin. This is what a home should look like, I mused, picking up one of the drawings from the collection. A girl held a flower in the middle of a snowy field next to a snowman. Kinsley’s name was written in the corner of the page.
“I made that for you.” Kinsley smiled, pulling on her long blonde braid. “I didn’t know what color your eyes were, so I colored them black.”
Black eyes. I contained a shudder and set the paper back onto the table. I knew the thought was irrational, but I didn’t like the way crayon Sarah looked at me. “You’re a very good artist.” I smiled despite my discomfort.
Kinsley shook her head, upset by some lack of understanding on my part. “No. You need to keep it. Forever.”
“Oh.” I picked it back up. “Thank you,” I said, trying my best to sound genuine.
“Come on,” Rebecca said.
She grabbed my hand and led me past the family room and up a large, wooden staircase. Just off the landing was an oversize den with toys of all sorts. Hallways pointed both directions.
“Down there are where most of the bedrooms are, except for Mom and Dad’s. Theirs is on the first floor. But over here,” she turned down the opposite direction, “is the computer room, guest bathroom, and your room.” She smiled as she opened the door to a brightly-lit space.
The room was clean and simple: a single chest of drawers with attached mirror, a nightstand with lamp, and a full-size bed were the only items present. The thick blue comforter looked ready to wrap me in its warmth. I glanced out the window to the street and the snow-covered homes on the other side of the road.
“Do you like it?” she asked.
“It’s wonderful.” I unzipped my suitcase and stashed Kinsley’s drawing inside.
Back downstairs we carried trays of food out to a large picnic table off the side of the house in the sunniest area of the yard. As we ate, the whole family spoke to each other in an almost non-stop chatter that was difficult, nearly impossible, to follow. The three youngest girls finished their food early and went off to play in the middle of the yard. They fell backward into the snow, making tons and tons of little snow angels. We had to stop to admire each one.
“Are those the only shoes you’ve brought up with you?” Judi asked me suddenly.
I looked down at my hiking boots, already wet from the snow, and wiggled my near-frozen toes. “Um…”
“You look about my size. I’ll lend you some that will keep your feet dry.”
“Yes, you’ll need them.” Benjamin’s brother, David chimed in. “Because tonight,” he paused for dramatic effect, “we play Kick the Can.”
“No,” Kinsey moaned.
“That’s not fair. We never get to play,” little Gracie added, marching up to where we sat. “Momma, it’s not fair. I want to be with Sarah, and she told me she didn’t want to play. It’s a stupid game. I hate it.”
David laughed and snatched up his disgruntled little sister, tossing her into the air.
“You only say that because you can’t play yet. When you’re big enough, I promise I’ll teach you.”
“When are they old enough to play?” I asked.
“When they’re twelve,” David said. “The game can get rather rough.”
“Kick the Can?” I had never played it myself, but I didn’t see how a simple game involving a can could be rough. And they had never played football with my dad.
“We play it a little differently.” The colonel’s face glowed wickedly as he turned to Benjamin and David. “Call the neighborhood boys and girls. Tell them seven o’clock.”
24
Games In The Dark
After dark, those of us who were old enough to play were ushered outside to await the arrival of our guests. The mystical glow of the moon and a single low street lamp gave the only light to the informal arena, but it was enough. It took a moment for my sight to adjust to the hazy glow of the snow-concealed field and ethereal forest beyond. Again that odd sense of familiarity flooded my senses. I inhaled a deep, quaking breath and gazed out over the masterpiece: a haunting depiction of ice, snow, and broken shadows.
I patted Benjamin on the arm, directing his gaze to three individuals coming around the side of the house: a woman and two men, one of which held the girl’s hand and carefully escorted her around the patio furniture, shielding her from any possible harm. She, I noticed, had her hand gently wrapped around her middle, protecting the small bulge that was barely noticeable through a long wool jacket. The other person, a lone gentleman, wore a camouflage helmet and thick-rimmed glasses that covered nearly half his face.
The colonel announced their arrival as they neared. “James, Monica, Mark.”
Too many new names to remember. I shook my head, ridding myself of the desire to try.
“Hey, Mon-Mon.
” Benjamin gave the woman a careful half-hug, then released her.
“You noticed, huh?” Her voice was as small as she was short. The top of her head only reached Benjamin’s shoulder. “I hope you guys don’t mind, but I’m not going to participate tonight.” She patted her baby bump. “I was hoping to relieve your wife to play,” she said, turning toward the colonel.
“She’d love that. She’s getting the girls ready for bed.”
Mon-mon nodded and went inside. Glasses gave a wide berth to allow her to pass.
“Dang, Mark. She’s pregnant, not a time bomb,” Benjamin said, clapping Glasses on the shoulder. “I see you’re wearing your BCG’s tonight.”
“It’s protection against whatever Monica caught,” he said, smiling broadly so that all I could see were his large glasses and his bright, gleaming smile.
“What are BCG’s?” I asked.
Benjamin shook his head. “Birth Control Glasses,” he muttered under his breath.
I stifled a burst of laughter.
A light from the back patio of a neighboring home flicked on. A man and a younger boy descended the steps and made their way toward the group.
“Liam!” the colonel called out. “Good to see you!”
“Thought I’d come teach these youngsters a few things,” he huffed, his breath thick against the frigid air.
Benjamin leaned down to whisper in my ear. “That’s Liam and his grandson, Reed. Liam’s been our neighbor and one of my dad’s closest friends for twenty years.”
I nodded, pretending to understand, but feeling completely out of place. My father didn’t have any close friends that I knew of, and I only had a few to count. Benjamin’s family and the friends surrounding them were kind and welcoming, but I didn’t belong with them. I didn’t belong with Benjamin, either.
My stomach twisted as loneliness set in, making me feel homesick for something I still hadn’t found. I briefly closed my eyes, fighting the desire to run away again.
“Are you okay?” Benjamin asked, looking me over with an observant eye.
I nodded, trying to fake a smile. “I’m fine.
Several more people joined the group and there were more introductions, handshakes, and embraces. I couldn’t keep track of most of their names, and after a while, I stopped trying.
I counted eighteen individuals total. My head spun as I watched the animated interactions of life-long friends and a close-knit family.
Just as I thought I would have to remove myself and go hide in some remote corner of the house, the colonel claimed everyone’s attention. “Alright! Glad you could all make it. I think it’s about time to start.”
He held up a large brown sack, and everyone fell silent. Even the younger girls, twittering in their corner, went quiet. “Everyone choose a pinecone. Whoever picks the blue one guards the can. Who’s first?”
David stepped forward, followed by three of his friends. Each of them drew an average pine cone. Rebecca and a small gaggle of girls approached next, pushing each other as a sort of support system. Each grimaced as they picked their lot, then breathed a dramatic sigh of relief when they were safe.
“Come on, Mark,” Benjamin said, placing a hand on Glasses’ shoulder.
“Ladies first?” Mark asked, gesturing to me.
I put my hand in and pulled out a brown pinecone.
“Only a few left,” said the Colonel, shaking the sack to prove it.
Benjamin turned to Mark. “Ladies first.”
“Fair enough.” Mark thrust in his hand with determination and pulled out a bright blue pinecone. He tossed it up and caught it like baseball.
Everyone began talking excitedly.
“Let it begin,” Mark said, pointing menacingly to the group.
“Alright,” the Colonel called out. “Mark will start the game. He will go to the middle of the field and mark off a circular ring with a five-yard radius around this.” The colonel held up large aluminum can. “He will be protecting this can. Everyone else will hide in the surrounding vicinity. Your goal is to get inside the guarded perimeter and kick the can before you are tagged. Mark can tag you by touch, or by snowball.” He grinned wickedly as he held up a perfectly-sculpted snowball. “Any questions?”
When no one responded, he continued. “Before the game begins, we will take five minutes to make ammunition for Mark. Be as generous as possible. Let’s go!”
Ben grabbed my hand, and we went with the others to the center. He showed me how to make a perfect snowball then we piled them together in several large, fast-growing mounds. After a few minutes, Mark was fully equipped.
“Alright,” the colonel announced. “Let the game start!”
Mark squatted down to the ground, facing the can, all playfulness gone.
Everyone ran except the colonel. “Go real easy on the younger ones,” he ordered Mark.
“Got it,” he answered. “One. Two. Three…”
Ben pointed to an area near the north side of the house. “Let’s go that way.”
He took us a good distance away from the others and drew me behind a fallen tree concealed in snow. It shielded us from Mark’s view, but it was the wrong place to be if you wanted a good vantage point to the target.
Benjamin didn’t seem to recognize this. I quickly scanned the field for a better place. We still had thirty seconds before Mark finished counting, and I had located a prime spot.
Then I stopped.
It was a game. It was a silly game, and not everything had to be taken so seriously. I took a deep breath and relaxed.
“So. What happens when he’s done counting?” I asked.
Benjamin smiled. “Well, normally, Mark will start setting up a defensive position around the can. He’ll try to get an idea of where everyone is before he starts attacking. Mom and Dad normally go around building strategies of attack.”
“Strategies?”
Benjamin smiled. “You’ll see.”
“Seventy-five. Seventy-six.”
“What if no one kicks the can?” I asked.
“Then Mark chooses who plays guard in the next game.”
“Does that happen very often?”
Ben shrugged. “Strategies change; ideas change. With this game, you never really know what’s going to happen, especially with this many players. Mark has seventeen other people to keep track of.”
“Ninety-four. Ninety-five.”
I smiled. “Should be fun.”
“Ninety-nine, one hundred. Ready or not!” Mark shot up like an arrow and turned, ready for an immediate attack. When no one came, he reached down and grabbed two snowballs, one for each hand. “Who’s the first to partake of the wrath of Marcus the Deadly?”
“What did he just say?” Even though it was said in whispers, I heard snickering coming from a dozen yards away. It wasn’t very hard to pinpoint the exact location. The girls weren’t being at all discreet.
Mark took aim and lobbed two snowballs at the tree that barely sheltered the giggling girls. They screamed and jumped out of their hiding spot, trying to find quick shelter somewhere else. Smack, smack. Two more snowballs flew out in the night, hitting them. They stopped cold in their tracks.
“Did he get you?” the first girl asked.
“Did he get you?” the second girl answered with a nod and a question.
“You shouldn’t have said anything.” The first girl scowled at her friend.
“But he called himself Marcus the Deadly.”
“Put your hands up and move to the patio, ladies,” Mark called. They did as they were told, giggling as they ran.
“That was fast,” I whispered.
“It’s a tactic we use to get the younger, sillier players out of the way.”
There was a loud crack, and we froze as other unseen players moved clumsily in the trees behind us. Mark snapped his head in our direction, rounding his protective circle, nearing our hiding spot. I peeked out from the side of the log. Mark had grabbed three snowballs—two in his left hand a
nd one in his right. Ben put a finger to his lips, as if he needed to remind me to stay quiet.
“I’ll distract him, while you run for cover somewhere else,” Ben whispered. I shook my head, but he wasn’t paying any attention to me as he readied his ammunition. Mark wouldn’t come this far from his base just to tag us. It wasn’t worth the gamble.
Just as Benjamin was about to stand, there came a rushing sound from the other side of the arena as a player made a run for the goal. Hearing the ambush, Mark spun just in time as a boy came crashing in from the south side of the forest. Two others ran in just yards away to his left.
Mark let loose with three snowballs; two missed their targets, but one hit the first player ten yards shy of the circle. Mark’s free arm reached to lightly tag a half-size player. He lunged but just missed the third. Judi, who was quicker than I had previously thought, ran back into the forest from where she came. Mark grabbed more ammunition, but not before she was long gone.
“I’m out,” announced the boy, somewhat out of breath.
“Me too.” Lauren’s shoulders slumped, visually upset about being caught so early.
“That was a good move, Lauren!” Ben called out, trying to throw his voice. “I’m proud of you.”
“A seriously good try, girl!” another voice called out from the opposite side of the field. I recognized it as Becca’s.
Lauren looked around the field and smiled, putting her hands up in the air. She and her friend walked toward the patio to watch the rest of the game from the sidelines.
“Mom normally tries to help out the younger ones. She’ll go find Becca and her friend now.”
It was a good two to three minutes before anything else happened. Mark was zeroing in on the spot where the first attack had come from when a snowball flew out and smacked a tree near the house. Mark didn’t flinch.
“Nice try,” he called, as he launched four in a row.
“You got me.” With hands in the air, Liam puffed his way toward the house.
A voice came from somewhere nearby. “You’re out early, old man.” Mark twirled around into a defensive crouch.
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