Children of Eternity Omnibus

by P. T. Dilloway

  David untied the mooring line from the pier, tossing it into the boat. Samantha took a seat along a bench in the bow and took up a set of oars. Wendell leapt onto the bench across from her before Prudence could sit down. “I was going to sit there!” Prudence said. Wendell pretended not to hear her.

  When she nudged his shoulders, Wendell looked up at Prudence and stuck out his tongue. Prudence’s fists clenched and unclenched; she stood there, quivering with anger. “You should sit in the back anyway to make sure we don’t tip over.”

  Prudence’s face turned magenta. Samantha stood up to get between them. “Come on you two, this is serious.”

  “Tell him to get out of my seat,” Prudence said.

  “I got here first. It’s not my fault you’re too slow.”

  “Samantha, tell him to move.”

  Wendell grabbed the edges of the bench with both hands. “Let him sit there if he wants,” Samantha said. Prudence grumbled something and then sat on the bench in the bow among their provisions. All three of them took up the oars and gradually the Primrose began to move away from the pier.

  Samantha watched the children of Eternity fade away along the shore until they disappeared. They kept rowing for a few more minutes to get into open water. “Which way do we go?” Prudence asked from her seat in the back.

  “I’m not sure,” Samantha said. She looked all around them, but saw only blue-gray water stretching to the horizon. “Let’s try going west.”

  “Why?” Wendell asked.

  “Call it a hunch.” They pointed the front of the boat in the opposite direction of the rising sun and started to row westward. The wind remained almost nonexistent, forcing them to keep rowing. Samantha tried to get Wendell and Prudence to stroke as one, but they seemed locked in some kind of competition to row harder than each other. Samantha finally called for them to stop and ordered Prudence to take a break.

  “Why me?” she said.

  “Because I said so. Wendell and I will take the first shift rowing, then you and I, and then both of you. If we aren’t going to get any help from the wind then we’ll need our strength to paddle all the way there.”

  “It’s not fair,” Prudence complained. She curled up in the stern, using a sack of food for a pillow. The sound of her snoring soon rumbled across the Primrose.

  “Why did you bring her?” Wendell asked as they rowed. “She’s not good for anything.”

  “Prudence wanted to come,” Samantha said. “She’s stronger than people give her credit for.” The other, more selfish reason Samantha had allowed Prudence to come along was having a friend with her would make the journey bearable.

  “She’s stupid and ugly. Not like you,” Wendell said, blushing with the last words.

  “Prudence is a nice girl. She doesn’t deserve to be tormented by everyone because she’s a little heavier.”

  “A little heavier? She’s a whale.”

  “You of all people should be able to understand what it’s like to be picked on,” Samantha said.

  “I’m sorry,” Wendell said.

  “Give her a chance. I’m sure you two would like each other.” They rowed on in silence until their shoulders ached from the effort. Samantha let go of her oars to rest for a minute. She closed her eyes, soaking in the noonday sun.

  Her eyes flew open when she felt hands kneading the muscles in her shoulders. She found Wendell standing behind her with a shy smile on his face. “How’s that?” he asked.

  “That feels nice,” Samantha said. She closed her eyes and let Wendell’s hands massage the soreness out of her shoulders. When her eyes opened again, she found herself lying on the deck with Wendell and Prudence standing over her, arguing.

  “She was my friend first. You can’t take her away,” Prudence said. She pushed Wendell, who stumbled and fell on top of Samantha. “You’re a stupid little weasel. I don’t know why she let you come.”

  “I’m the one who built this boat,” Wendell said. “What’d you do other than sew a couple sheets together?”

  “You didn’t build anything. The other boys did all the work because you’re too weak to do anything except whittle some sticks. You should have stayed home, Wendy.”

  Wendell jumped to his feet and stabbed Prudence in the chest with one finger. “Don’t call me that!” he screamed.

  “Why, what are you going to do? You can’t hurt me.”

  “That’s because you’re protected by all that fat.”

  “Why you little—” Samantha got between them before Prudence could wrap her hands around Wendell’s throat.

  “Knock it off you two,” Samantha said. “Wendell, go get some rest. Prudence and I will row.”

  “She started it. She called me a pervert.”

  “You were touching her.”

  “He gave me a massage, that’s all,” Samantha said. “The two of you stop fighting or we’ll turn around and I’ll get someone else to help me. Understand?”

  Prudence and Wendell looked down at the deck with shame. They nodded in unison and then Wendell slunk back to the stern to sleep. Samantha and Prudence took the oars and continued to row. “You shouldn’t have let him come,” Prudence said.

  “He said the same thing. You two have a lot in common.” Samantha winked at Prudence. “Don’t you think he’s cute?”

  “Wendell? He’s a sissy.”

  “Then who do you like? I bet it’s David.”

  Prudence’s face turned red again and to Samantha’s surprise Prudence began to cry. “What difference does it make if I like anyone? No one will ever like me.”

  “That’s not true. I’m sure plenty of boys will like you when they get more mature.”

  Prudence shook her head. “None of them will ever like me. I’m not like you or Helena. The skinny girls.”

  “Come on, Prudence, don’t start that again. You’re going through a phase, that’s all. When you get older—”

  “I’ll be even fatter. You don’t understand. How could you? You’ve always been skinny.”

  “You don’t have to be fat if you don’t want to. You can fight against it.”

  “I’m not strong like you,” Prudence said. She patted the gut draping over her waist. “I’m more like Rebecca.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with either of you. You’re my two best friends.” Samantha reached across to wipe the tears from Prudence’s cheeks. “Someone is going to come along and see you the way I do and love you even more than me.”

  “Thanks,” Prudence said. They rowed in silence until the sun began to sink beneath the waves. Prudence went to the back of the boat to rouse Wendell. If only Samantha could wave a magic wand and make Prudence thin and Wendell tall and herself with all her memories intact. But not even the Fountain of Youth’s water could help with that.

  Fog rose during the night to shroud the Primrose in gloom. Samantha, Wendell, and Prudence took turns rowing all through the night, saying little to each other. Samantha woke in the morning to find the fog even thicker, so that she couldn’t see her hand when she held it over the edge of the boat. “Let go of the oars,” Samantha said. “We’ll wait for this to clear.”

  They gathered in the stern to eat a meager breakfast of apples, cold bread, and thin strips of salted meat with sips from a skin of water to wash it all down. “How long until this fog lifts?” Prudence asked. She ate the least of any of them; from the greenness of her face Samantha sensed it had more to do with seasickness than self-consciousness about her weight.

  “The sun should burn it off,” Samantha said. The day came and went with the fog still in place and the Primrose drifting ahead on its own.

  “We’re cursed,” Prudence said that night when the fog still hadn’t lifted. “God doesn’t want us to cross the sea. He wants to keep us in Eternity forever.”

  “It’s not a curse,” Wendell said. “It’s a perfectly natural phenomenon.”

  “How would you know?” Prudence shot back.

  “I know it’s not some kind of
silly curse by God.”

  “Settle down, both of you. Let’s get some sleep.” Despite Wendell’s reassurances, Samantha prayed before she fell asleep for them to reach the mainland.

  The next morning dawned clear without a cloud in the sky. A divine wind caught the sail, pushing them westward without the need for the oars. Before the sun reached directly overhead, Wendell gave a shout and pointed excitedly to a dark smudge on the horizon. “Land!” he cried out.

  Samantha tried not to get too excited, but in a few minutes the smudge became a set of cliffs. At last they had found the mainland.

  Chapter 5: Good Intentions Gone Bad

  Molly and Mama Becky hadn’t visited the bakery in over two weeks, not since the big storm. Now that the snow had melted enough for everyone to come out of hiding, Mama Becky had reopened the bakery. She sent Molly over to ask Ugly Phyllis for a bushel of apples to make pies. “Why?” Molly asked.

  “I thought I’d make everyone a treat,” Mama Becky said.

  Molly rubbed her hands together with glee and then ran to get her jacket. Mama Becky’s apple pie was one of her favorite dishes. The way the sweet scent of the apples filled the bakery left her mouth watering for hours in anticipation. Then came that first slice, still warm enough for the crust to melt in her mouth. She wished Mama Becky could make apple pie every day.

  She made her way over to the pantry without once sinking into the snow. She wished Aunt Samantha were here to see she’d made it all by herself. But Aunt Samantha had gone away across the sea without her. She’ll come back, Molly thought. She promised she would.

  Molly knocked on the door to the pantry, waiting for Ugly Phyllis to answer. She hated Phyllis. Ugly Phyllis was fat like Mama Becky and Aunt Prudence, but her face always looked as if she’d eaten a lemon. When Mama Becky or Aunt Samantha weren’t around, Ugly Phyllis called Molly names like “Carrothead” or “Freckleface.” One of her favorite hobbies was to sneaking behind Molly to yank one of her curls straight until she cried out.

  Ugly Phyllis wasn’t as bad as Hateful Helena, who more often than not would show up in the pantry when she should be doing laundry. Hateful Helena pinched Molly’s cheeks until she cried and then dragged her by the hair into the cellar. She locked Molly down there for hours. Molly had tried telling Mama Becky, but she thought Molly was making up a story. When Hateful Helena found out Molly had told, she took Molly’s clothes and then hauled her down to the cellar. Since then, Molly hadn’t tried to tell anyone.

  Ugly Phyllis answered the door and to Molly’s relief she didn’t see Hateful Helena around. “What do you want, Freckles?”

  “Mama sent me to ask for a bushel of apples.”

  “We only have one bushel left.”

  “She wants to make pie for everyone.”

  “She does?” Ugly Phyllis licked her lips, drawing attention to a line of dark fuzz over her top lip. Molly cringed at this sight. “Well, I suppose I can let her have them then. Tell Becky I’ll bring them over in a little bit. I wouldn’t want you to carry them. You’d spill them all over.”

  “I can do it,” Molly said.

  Ugly Phyllis tousled Molly’s hair hard enough to make her wince. “I’m sure you think you can, Carrothead. This is a grownup job, though. Not for babies.”

  “I’m not a baby!” Molly protested, but Ugly Phyllis had already slammed the door in her face. Molly felt heat rising in her face and stamped her foot in the snow at Ugly Phyllis’s nerve to call her a baby.

  She stomped back to the bakery and told Mama Becky what Ugly Phyllis had said. Mama Becky knelt down to kiss Molly on the cheek. “Of course you’re not a baby. You’re my big girl. Here, you can help me with the crusts,” Mama Becky said. She helped Molly up onto a stool so she could reach the counter.

  A lump of floured dough lay on the counter. Mama Becky showed Molly how to use the rolling pin to smooth the dough flat. But when Molly tried to imitate Mama Becky’s smooth, graceful strokes, the rolling pin shot from her grasp and fell to the floor. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. It takes a little bit of practice.”

  Mama Becky handed the rolling pin back to her and this time Molly attacked the dough. The stupid dough still wouldn’t flatten the way Mama Becky had done it. Instead, the dough became a steep-sided mountain on the counter. Mama Becky finally snatched the rolling pin away as Molly started to cry. “There now, it’s all right, sweetie. You’re doing fine. You just need to relax a little. Don’t try to hurt the dough. You want to stroke it, massage it.” Mama Becky easily smoothed the mountain into a puddle on the counter.

  “I can’t do it,” Molly said through her tears. “I’m a stupid baby like Ugly Phyllis said.”

  “No, sweetie. Some people are better at things than others. Why, your Aunt Samantha can’t boil water without burning it. When she was about your age, she almost burned the kitchen down trying to bake a loaf of bread.”

  “Really? She was that bad?”

  “She was awful. Your Aunt Prudence and I barred her from ever trying to cook again.”

  Molly giggled and wiped the tears from her eyes. Aunt Samantha couldn’t cook and no one would call her a baby. Molly hugged Mama Becky. “Thank you, Mama.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetie.”

  “I miss Aunt Samantha and Aunt Prudence. When are they coming back?”

  “I don’t know, sweetheart. Soon, I hope.” Mama Becky’s face turned sad at this. Molly wondered if she were about to cry. Instead, Mama Becky wadded the dough up again. “This time we’ll do it together, all right?”

  The door flew open then and Annie stood in the doorway. “There’s a fight in the dormitory,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper.

  “Where’s David?” Mama Becky asked.

  “In the fields. With the boys,” Annie said.

  “I’d better get over there then.” Mama Becky bent down to look Molly in the eye. “You stay here and don’t touch anything while I’m gone.” She kissed Molly on the forehead and then hurried out the door with Quiet Annie.

  After the door closed, Molly stared at the rolling pin and pile of dough. Mama Becky had said not to touch anything while she was gone. Did she think Molly was such a baby that she would create a mess if left alone for a few minutes? Molly would show her.

  At first the dough began to flatten as it had for Mama Becky. Molly cried out with triumph. She was doing it all by herself! Then the door banged open, startling Molly. The rolling pin flew out of her hands and into the air.

  Ugly Phyllis turned around in time to see the rolling pin flying at her head. She dropped the bushel of apples to floor, but still couldn’t duck in time. The rolling pin struck her in the forehead, knocking her backwards onto some of the apples.

  Molly sat at the counter for a moment, paralyzed by fear. Then she scurried over to a cupboard and climbed inside to hide. When Mama Becky saw what she’d done she would be in so much trouble. She would probably get a spanking. All because Ugly Phyllis had opened the door at the wrong time.

  Molly crouched in the cupboard, sobbing to herself for a long time. At last the door opened and she heard Mama Becky cry out, “What happened? Molly? Where are you?”

  “That stupid little brat hit me with a rolling pin,” Ugly Phyllis said. “She waited until I opened the door and then she threw it at me because I wouldn’t let her carry the apples.”

  “I’m sure it was an accident—”

  “That child is a monster! You should let me give her a whipping. That’s what she deserves.” Ugly Phyllis grunted and then added, “Look at this mess. We lost a good quarter bushel of apples thanks to her.”

  “It will be fine, Phyllis. Do you need any water?”

  “I don’t want anything from you. When you find that brat, send her over to me and I’ll make sure she gets what she deserves.” The door slammed shut. Molly trembled within the cupboard, trying not to make a sound as she sobbed.

  To her horror, the cupboard door opened and Mama Becky knelt there, her face red.
“Molly, you’ve been a very bad girl. You could have hurt Phyllis very badly. What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “I didn’t mean to,” Molly said. “I was trying to roll the dough and the door opened and the rolling pin hit her. That’s what happened, honest.”

  “Molly, I told you not to touch anything while I was gone. You disobeyed me.”

  “Are you going to let Ugly Phyllis beat me now?”

  “Of course not, sweetheart.” Mama Becky reached into the cupboard to pull Molly out. “I want you to go home and think about what you’ve done. Later we’ll go over so you can apologize to Phyllis.”

  “But Mama—”

  “No buts, young lady. Now, go home and stay in your room until I come get you. But no playing dollies in there. Do you understand?” Molly nodded. Mama Becky kissed her on the forehead and then helped Molly into her coat. They stepped past the flattened remains of apples near the door.

  “Are you still going to make pies?” Molly asked.

  “Yes, but you aren’t to have any.” When Molly shouted in protest, Mama Becky glared down at her. “Maybe now you’ll learn not to misbehave. Go on and we’ll talk about this later.”

  She gently pushed Molly out into the snow and then closed the door. Molly ran towards the cottage, tears freezing in her eyes. It wasn’t fair! This was all Ugly Phyllis’s fault for being mean to her and then getting in the way of the rolling pin. She wouldn’t apologize to Ugly Phyllis, not ever. Not even if Mama Becky offered her a piece of pie.

  She threw herself onto her bed, pressing the dolly of Sir Francis to her chest. Someday he would come to save her from this awful place. He would gallop up on his white horse and rescue her just like in her stories. If only Aunt Samantha had let her go across the sea. Maybe then she could find him.

  Chapter 6: The Ghost

  They drew closer to the shore, paddling as hard as they could. Samantha’s shoulders burned from the effort, but she didn’t care. She would have jumped from the boat and swam ashore if it would get her there faster.