None of the boys her age even give her a passing glance. She might as well be invisible. As if that weren’t embarrassing enough, some of the men’s eyes follow Mom as she walks by. She doesn’t pay them any attention.
They walk across the hot white sand until they find a relatively quiet spot near a cluster of rocks. Mom and Samantha spread out towels and lie down. While Mom reads a book, Samantha stares out at the turquoise water, watching a girl in a bikini like the one she bought splash a boy with tanned, rippling muscles.
“Mom, am I ever going to be pretty?” she asks.
“Of course you are, honey. When you get older.”
“How old?”
“That depends. Some girls develop faster than others. Your time will come.”
Mom turns back to her book, leaving Samantha to ponder the topic. Even if she’d worn the bikini, no one would have noticed her, especially not the one with the tanned, rippling muscles. To him, she was still a little kid playing in the sand with Mommy and Daddy.
To make matters worse, Dad plops down onto the towel next to her, his body greasy and smelling like a medicine cabinet. “Did you put the whole bottle on?” she asks.
“Can’t be too careful with this skin.” He spreads out on the towel, shielding his eyes with a straw hat. “If you smell boiled lobster, wake me up, kiddo.”
When Dad begins to snore, Samantha turns to her mother. “Can I go swimming?” she asks.
“All right, but stay where I can see you,” Mom says.
Samantha tiptoes across the hot sand in her bare feet, wishing they’d never decided to vacation in California. So far her parents have done nothing but treat her like a baby and she knows it will only get worse tomorrow when they go to Disneyland. She has a vague memory of going there almost nine years ago and asking Daddy to give her a piggyback ride so she could see over the grown-ups. He’ll probably try to do the same thing tomorrow, although she doesn’t need his help to see over the grown-ups anymore.
The turquoise water feels like a bath, so warm and soothing. Samantha wades out until the water comes up to her breasts. Compared with the breasts of the other girls on the beach hers seem miniscule. Mosquito bites, Hannah called them, flaunting her enormous pair.
She paddles towards the couple frolicking in the water, hunching down so only her head is visible. The boy with the muscles chases the girl in the bikini, finally tackling her. They fall into the wet sand where they kiss while Samantha can only wish someone will kiss her like that someday.
The wave comes up without warning, knocking Samantha from her feet. The current sucks her beneath the surface and then away from the beach. Her lungs burn, demanding air, but no matter how hard she paddles, she can’t reach the surface.
A hand grabs her by the back of the bathing suit, hauling her up to the surface. At first she thinks she must be dreaming because she sees herself dragging her back to shore. Then she comes to her senses and realizes it’s Mom.
Mom lays Samantha out on the sand, her voice sounding far away as she asks if Samantha is all right. Though Samantha wants to answer, there’s too much water in her lungs. She rolls over, spitting what feels like half the ocean onto the beach.
“Feel better?” Mom asks.
Samantha nods. This time she doesn’t mind Mom taking her hand to lead her back to the towels. Dad is still asleep, his chest turning lobster red despite the sunscreen.
Even with her eyes closed, Samantha feels people staring at her, laughing at her. “Can we go?” she asks.
“Of course we can, honey. Let me wake your father.”
“Why the long face, kiddo?” Dad asks her as they walk back to the car.
Before she can answer, Mom says, “I thought we should get back to pack for tomorrow.”
“Good idea. I was going to be broiled in a few more minutes anyway, right?” he says, nudging Samantha in the ribs.
“Right,” she says, smiling at Mom.
From a canvas bag in the car, Mom takes out a pair of jeans and T-shirt, hands them to Samantha. She changes in a cinderblock stall with no door while Mom stands guard by the sinks. “Thank you,” Samantha says.
“It’s all right, honey. All part of the job.”
“You do it really well.” Samantha emerges from the stall and stands beside Mom at the sinks. In the mirror she looks like a miniature version of her mother. If only she grows up to be half as pretty and smart, she’ll be lucky.
For the first time in nearly a year, she hugs her mother. Mom pats her hair and kisses her forehead the way she did when Samantha was little. “Don’t worry, honey, everything will be fine. I’ll always be here for you.” They remain that way for a minute until Mom says, “We better see what your dad is up to.”
They find Dad taking pictures of the beach with the camera. Before Samantha can object or hide her face, he snaps one of her and Mom. “There’s my two bathing beauties,” he says.
“Dad,” Samantha whines, stretching the word out.
“Sorry. How about one more?”
“Fine, but let’s do one of the whole family.”
“Gee, I’d love to, but I don’t really know how to work the timer on this thing—”
Mom snatches the camera from around his neck, kissing him as she fiddles with the buttons. She sets the camera on the car and then takes Dad’s hand, scampering over beside Samantha.
They stand on either side of Samantha, putting a hand on her shoulder. In their touch, she feels how much they love her. Despite all that’s happened, a smile comes easily to her.
Then the camera clicks, preserving the image of their love forever.
Children of Eternity #3: Young Hearts
By P.T. Dilloway
Copyright 2012 P.T. Dilloway
Chapter 1: Damage Report
Samantha Young crept between the rows of dormitory beds, trying not to wake any of the other girls. As she had each morning for the last two weeks, she tiptoed past the girls, not allowing herself the luxury of pausing to reminisce about how much they had grown over the last four years. She made her way to the back wall and a pair of doors that led to the surface.
Everyday for the last two weeks the doors had refused to budge, but today Samantha managed to pry the wooden doors open, letting in a flood of golden light. She stuck her head up like a gopher to survey the world above, finding a blanket of white covering everything. The snow rose in drifts like ocean waves, some taller than her.
She took a breath of the chilly air that nevertheless contained a hint of springtime warmth. The worst blizzard in Eternity’s history had come to an end. She hurried to close the doors before any of the other girls woke up and wanted to prematurely climb out.
From inside her closet, she took out a heavy down-stuffed jacket and four different shirts and pairs of trousers to wear over her nightgown. After she dressed, Samantha pulled on a pair of shoes and a pair of boots to keep her feet dry. As a final touch she donned the gray hat and scarf Prudence had knit for her last Christmas.
Now prepared for the elements, Samantha emerged from her room to climb the ladder to the first floor. She paused halfway up to listen to Prudence’s guttural snores. Prudence flatly refused to sleep underground. Three hundred fifty years ago Reverend Crane had forced her to live in an underground prison. After that, Samantha understood why Prudence didn’t want to spend any more time underground if possible.
In Wendell’s original design for the new dormitories, the entire building was to have been underground so that another hurricane couldn’t destroy the dormitories. Samantha approved of the design, but many of the other girls found the idea less than aesthetically pleasing. As a compromise, Wendell designed the first floor as a parlor with chairs, tables, and a sofa where the girls could socialize before they went down for bed.
Prudence slept in a cell that stretched the length of the wall on the right side. Samantha tapped on the door and waited for any break in Prudence’s snoring. After waiting two full minutes she opened the door and knelt
down beside her friend’s bed. Prudence slept beneath a mound of blankets that heaved with each snore, a few strands of red hair the only sign of her. Samantha shook the mound of blankets and whispered, “Prudence, wake up. The doors opened.”
A snort came from the blankets, followed by a pale hand emerging. Like a bird hatching from an egg, Prudence’s round face appeared, followed by her barrel-shaped chest. She brushed hair back from her eyes, blinking a few times before recognizing Samantha. “What time is it?” she asked.
“I’m not sure. Morning.” Two weeks without being able to see out a window had left them all disoriented about the time. “I got the doors open downstairs. We have to see what’s left.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Drifts almost as high as the church roof. Get dressed and let’s go,” Samantha said.
Prudence gasped at this and then heaved off the bed. A winter of strict rationing had taken its toll on Prudence’s ample frame so that her nightgown hung loose over her bulging stomach. Samantha waited in the parlor for Prudence, strapping on a pair of snowshoes Wendell had carved. She gave a similar pair to Prudence when she emerged from the bedroom.
They tried the front door, but it still wouldn’t budge. Prudence hesitated a moment before following Samantha down the ladder to the sleeping chambers. This time as Samantha made her way down the aisle Helena whispered, “Where are you going?”
“We’re going outside to take a look around.”
“Outside?” Helena said too loudly. The girls around her began to stir. “Can we finally go outside?”
“Not yet. We have to make sure it’s safe.”
“Why can’t we come?” Helena asked with a whine that hadn’t left her since she was a toddler. Around her, the other girls asked the same question with their nervous eyes.
“We don’t know what it’s like out there yet. It’s too dangerous for everyone to go. Once we know it’s safe, then the rest of you can go outside for a little while.”
“I want to go now,” Helena said. She crossed her arms over breasts that had started to blossom during the hard winter.
“We won’t be long. In the meantime, all of you stay here.”
At times like this she wished Rebecca hadn’t asked to live away from the dormitories to raise little Molly. Samantha would have to stop by their cottage to make sure they’d survived the blizzard. She opened the doors and climbed out into the white world. She offered Prudence a hand up and then closed the doors behind them. Samantha thought of trying to find a way to latch the doors from the outside but didn’t want to trap the others in case something happened.
“It’s unbelievable,” Prudence said. “I can’t remember ever seeing this much snow before.”
“Neither can I,” Samantha said. “We better start with the boys and make sure they didn’t kill each other.”
They set out towards the boy’s dormitory about a hundred feet away. While the girls had selected a façade of blue clapboard and wooden lacework painted white, the boys had gone with a log cabin motif for their parlor. A thin column of smoke rose from the stone chimney, which Samantha took as a good sign.
Prudence lagged behind as they tramped to the dormitory, her stubby legs having difficulty with the snow. Samantha paused to let Prudence catch up, but Prudence motioned for her to go on. Samantha left her friend behind to reach the back door to the boy’s dormitory. She took off one of her snowshoes, using it to sweep snow away from the doors. Prudence joined her until they cleared away enough for the doors to open.
Samantha knocked and waited for someone to answer. When the doors popped open, Wendell’s mop of red curls appeared, his freckled cheeks covered by a scarf. “Hello,” he said. “Is it safe to come out now?”
“Almost,” Samantha said. “How are you boys doing?”
“Pretty good. There was a fight last night, but David broke it up before anything happened.” Wendell took in a deep breath of the crisp air, blowing out a cloud of steam. “I’ll be glad to get out of here.”
“It shouldn’t be much longer. Tell David to sit tight for a little bit until we’re sure it’s safe.”
“I already know what he’ll say: ‘We don’t need a couple of girls telling us it’s safe.’ I can come along if you want.”
“We’re all right, but thanks for offering,” Samantha said. Wendell blushed at this and then closed the doors.
Prudence cast a disapproving frown after Wendell. “Are you sure we can trust him to tell David?” she asked.
“He’ll be fine. Come on, let’s get down to the fields and see what’s left.” They began the long trek through the snowdrifts that covered the path to the meadow. Prudence needed to rest halfway through the forest; Samantha found a log to clear off so they could sit down.
“Do you think there’s going to be anything left?”
“There wasn’t much left to start with.”
“What do we do then?”
“I have an idea, but it’s risky.” She scooped up a handful of snow to melt in her mouth. The snow reminded her of something she had tasted in a past life: ice cream. The word bubbled up from somewhere in the soup of her subconscious. After nine years in Eternity she could remember things like ice cream, but still couldn’t remember more basic items like her name or place of birth.
They started down the path again towards the meadow. In other times of the year the children took lessons in the meadow’s lush grass, which was now covered by several feet of snow. Prudence took a step and sank up to her waist in a snowdrift. She called out for help; Samantha took her outstretched hand and yanked her out of the drift. They both rolled down the meadow, shooting up into the air at the base of the hill and landing headfirst in a snow bank.
Samantha pulled herself out of the snow, shaking it off like a wet dog. Prudence kicked her legs as she fought to get out until Samantha dug her out. “I’m sorry,” Prudence said.
“Look at it this way, we got down here a lot faster.” They laughed harder than necessary, tears freezing on their cheeks. Then they set out towards the barn to check on the livestock.
The storm four years ago had killed half of the cows, chickens, and sheep in Eternity, including the only bull. A few of the sheep and chickens had been replaced, but not enough. To supplement the loss of chicken, eggs, and mutton they’d eaten enough fish in the last four years for Samantha to worry she might sprout gills.
Inside the barn, Samantha found the cold had finished off the remaining animals. She knelt down to examine the still form of a chicken and frowned. They’d been dead too long for water of the Fountain of Youth to restore.
Prudence stood in the doorway of the barn, her face pale. “What do we do now?” she asked.
“Now we don’t have a choice. Let’s go round up David and Rebecca. We’ve got some planning to do.”
Chapter 2: Council of War
Long ago in the peaceful kingdom of Dublin, the good King Daniel and Queen Margaret ruled with kindness and fairness to everyone. That is until the evil Lord Pryde showed up on the doorstep of the king and queen during the celebration for the royal couple’s new daughter. Always one to show mercy to strangers, the king allowed Lord Pryde to stay for the feast.
After the roast boar was served on silver plates for everyone, King Daniel stood up to make a toast for the new princess. As he was about to speak, Lord Pryde stood up to interrupt him. “Your kingdom and all its riches will now be mine,” Lord Pryde said. With that, he raised his arms and everyone in the castle fell asleep.
Everyone except the newborn princess in her crib lined with pink velvet. Though just a baby, she could sense something terrible had happened. She cried and cried for her mommy and daddy, but they never came.
Seeing the baby girl’s plight, the child’s guardian angel swooped down from Heaven to appear beside the crib. “Someday, when you’re old enough, you’ll come back to this place and take what’s rightfully yours,” the angel said to the girl. The angel scooped the girl up and carried her off to th
e distant island of Eternity, leaving her in the care of a girl named Rebecca.
Rebecca named the girl Molly and raised her as her own. She never told Molly about her royal parents or the angel watching over her. She let Molly grow up like every other child on Eternity. But Molly knew she was special. Even when the others made fun of her for being too little, it didn’t matter. One day she would find her real parents and show them all.
Then the moment the angel and Rebecca feared most came to pass: Lord Pryde found young Molly. Though Molly wasn’t a baby anymore, Lord Pryde knew she was the daughter of King Daniel and Queen Margaret. As long as she was free, he couldn’t unlock the treasures of Dublin.
So he took her away kicking and screaming from Rebecca and locked her up in a tower too high for anyone to climb. Molly spent day after day in the dark tower with nothing to do except play with two cats. One was skinny with black fur that she called Samantha. The other was very fat with orange fur that she called Prudence. These weren’t ordinary cats; they could speak to Molly and sing to her at night when she got lonely.
Years and years went by in the tower. Molly’s beautiful red hair grew so long that it wound around the room like a snake. Outside the window in the tower, snow covered the once-green hills and the blue lakes had turned to ice. Molly sighed as she gazed out the window. “I’m never going to get out of here,” she said. Not even the cats could cheer her up by singing her favorite song—“I Got You Babe.”
But then in the distance a spot of light caught her eye. Soon the spot of light became a knight in silver armor riding on top of a horse so white she could barely make it out in the snow. The knight stopped beneath the tower and looked up. “Greetings fair maiden,” the knight said. “I am Sir Francis—”
A knock on the front door tore Molly Brigham from her story. She left the rag dolls on the floor as she ran to the door. No one had visited in two weeks, not since the big storm. Mama Becky said they couldn’t go outside to see what had happened; it was too dangerous for a little girl out there. “I’m not little,” Molly told her. She turned five years old next week and Aunt Samantha had promised she could go to school with the others in the spring.
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