The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series

by Jacqueline Druga

  Andrea nodded. “Well, all except for Ellen. She . . .” Andrea’s eyes went mean when she heard Henry snickering. “Mr. Kusakari, may I ask what is so funny?”

  “Sorry.” Henry held up his hand. “I just keep picturing Joe trying to be serious when Jenny brought him this request. He probably just agreed to shut her up.”

  Joe grunted. “Tell the women tonight at your meeting that council approved the request. Yes, Henry?” Joe acknowledged his waving hand.

  “I didn’t vote on it, Joe. I don’t remember. Did I?”

  “No,” Joe told him.

  “I’m on council. I should vote on it.” He heard Andrea huff then saw her slide down in her chair. “Don’t breathe at me, Andrea. It’s not fair. I think my opinion should be heard about this.”

  .Joe raised his hand and lowered it with a slap. “All right, Henry. Do we let the women have a day off their first day or not?”

  “Oh I don’t see a problem with it, Joe, sure,” Henry said.

  Another grunt from Joe. “Duly noted.” He shook his head and continued. “I spoke to Clothing and Shoes and they are trying to come up with a way to make the new shoes for the women. Ben said he has a great new color, they may all be blue at first, but we should have the first pair of . . .” Joe cleared his throat, “flats in about three weeks.”

  Henry snickered loudly again. “Sorry. Flats? Why are we making the women flats? Seems like a waste of materials if you ask me.”

  Andrea tsked, “You would think that, Henry. You men get whatever you want around here. We women have to . . .”

  Joe held up his hand, stopping her. “Andrea, let me explain it to him.” Joe folded his hands and faced Henry. “Son, the women are tired of wearing those little tennis shoes we make them. They want a choice.”

  “They have a choice, Joe,” Henry stated. “They could wear boots.”

  “Boots?” Joe tilted his head. “Combat boots? Christ, Henry, I don’t know about you, but if the women in this community want to stay feminine, I’m for it. They want to feel good about themselves and why not? Just because your . . . whatever she is to you now . . . isn’t feminine, doesn’t mean the rest of the women shouldn’t be. Combat boots.”

  “Joe, that is totally untrue,” Henry argued. “Ellen is very feminine and I’m telling her you said that.”

  Joe rolled his eyes slightly. “You think she’s feminine. Female maybe. Yeah, I’ll admit she’s very female about things. But feminine? Henry, how many other women in this community have been shot more than once if at all? Stabbed? Beat up on a regular basis? Not to mention the fact that everything she wears hangs off of her.”

  “In Ellen’s defense,” Henry held one finger up, “everything is too big on her.”

  “Yeah Henry,” Joe snapped, “but Ben from fabrics has told her over and over he’d take them in for her. Does she take him up on it? No. Sometimes I think my daughter leaves her clothes loose and baggy so they’re more easily removed.”

  Henry gasped. “I cannot believe you’re speaking about your daughter like that.” He turned his head to Andrea. “Can you believe he’s talking about Ellen like that?”

  “Yes,” Andrea answered. “Next line of business Joe.”

  Joe couldn’t agree with that suggestion more. He shifted his paper. “Finally, trivial stuff.” A flutter of lips came from Henry. “What now?”

  “Trivial stuff?” Henry smirked. “Like flat shoes and days off for periods isn’t trivial.”

  “To some people isn’t, Henry. Now shut up,” Joe ordered. “Get some sleep, goddamn it. You’re getting on my nerves and you look bad too.”

  “I look bad?” Henry was surprised. “No I don’t. Do I?”

  “Yes,” Joe answered, “and you’re having a bad hair day too.”

  “My hair is bad? Oh my God.” Henry ran his hand through his hair. “Better?”

  “No.” Joe shook his head. “Want it to look neat? Shave it.”

  “Oh no Joe, I couldn’t do that. I like my hair.”

  “Henry!” Joe had enough. “Moving on to the trivial stuff.” He pointed at him. “And not another word. You’ve been hanging around my daughter too much.” Joe shifted his eyes down. “Something for you two to think about. The guys want to use the extra spot lights to set up at the field for night games when they start playing softball again. Blake, our soap guy, wants to have a theatrical performance every other week on Sundays instead of once a month. I think we can let him do it. What else do we have to entertain us around here? Speaking of entertaining. Andrea, what happened last night at the social hall and why did they bother you?”

  “They bothered me, Joe, because you have a lot on your mind,” she told him. “What happened was...it was karaoke night. Stew got mad because Edwin sang the song he wanted to sing and they started fighting. Dan broke it up and tossed them both in holding for three hours to cool down. It worked. All is fine.”

  “Joe?” Henry interjected. “I want to say, I like the idea of holding being used for cool down purposes. It works.”

  “You may like it, Henry but I don’t,” Joe told him. “It's too much like a jail and that’s something we don’t want to get in to.”

  “True,” Henry added. “But . . . really, what wrongs do people commit around here? If they commit a really bad wrong, they get tossed out. Fighting, Joe, you and I both know you can’t stop men from fighting. But if they get out of hand, like Dan obviously thought the fight was last night, then you throw them into holding in order to stop them from tearing each other up. In the old world if two men cause a disruption by fighting they were tossed in jail. Same premises.”

  “Jail.” Joe shook his head. “All right, that’s it.” He pushed his papers aside. “I’ll give the notes to Trish to type up for us. She has nothing better to do then stare at her date book. And I’ll . . .” He stopped when there was a knock at the door. “Come in.”

  Cole opened up the door and stepped inside. “I’m here for our meeting, Joe.”

  Joe’s expression dropped. “I totally forgot with Robbie on my mind, I’m sorry.”

  Cole pointed back with his hand that held the chipboard. “We can reschedule. No big deal.”

  “No.” Joe shook his head. “Who knows what’s going to come up and we’d might as well get the details out of the way. Have a seat. We just finished up.”

  Andrea stood. “Joe? Can’t Henry handle this meeting with Cole? I mean, your heart isn’t into it. Why don’t you and I take a walk and talk about things.”

  Joe thought about it for a minute. “You know what, Andrea, that wouldn’t be a bad idea. Henry has to practice anyhow for when I retire. Right, Henry?”

  “Practice for what Joe?” Henry asked.

  “Community leader. You are next in line.”

  Henry’s eyes shifted in horror. “I wouldn’t have a clue.”

  “Then it’s time you learned.” Joe smiled and patted Cole on the back as he grabbed Andrea’s hand. “I’ll leave you two to your meeting. Henry, update me later.” He walked to the door. “Sit behind my desk Henry. Do it. Get used to it.”

  An apprehensive Henry stood up when Joe and Andrea left. He moved to Joe’s desk and sat in the chair. He shifted to his left then to his right, made a cringing face, stood back up, and repeated his actions. “Oh this isn’t right.” Henry swiveled from one side to another, pulled the chair closer to the desk, then out. He bounced a little, causing a squeak.

  “Henry, what are you doing?” Cole asked.

  “Huh?” Henry remembered Cole was there. “Oh, this isn’t right. I’ll never get used to this.”

  “Being a community leader?”

  “No this chair. God . . . it sucks.” Smiling as Cole slumped sideways in his own chair, Henry folded his hands on Joe’s desk. “Now all I need to do is smoke. O.K., let’s start.”

  <><><><>

  Andrea held tightly to Joe’s arm as they walked from the line of utility buildings. She rested her head against him while they moved. “Yo
u frightened that boy, Joseph.”

  “Henry? Everything frightens him.”

  “You aren’t thinking of retiring soon are you? Don’t tell me you’re going to do that to us.”

  “No, not yet.” Joe looked ahead as he walked. “But it would be nice to just have my own little division to run, spend more free time with my family, and not have to worry about filling in at a different division every day because someone calls off. And . . . I could be the emeritus and help Henry from the shadows. Not to mention I’ll soon become one of those older gentlemen the ladies all enjoy.”

  Andrea chuckled. “You’ll never really be old, Joe Slagel. Trust me.”

  “So I’ll never be enjoyed?”

  “I doubt that.” Andrea laid her head on his arm. “I’ve got an idea that will help you and take your mind off of things for a little while and help you feel better.”

  “What do you have in mind, Andrea? I’m a busy man but I’m sure we can squeeze it in. Just keep in mind, my son is ill and I’m thinking about that, so there are no guarantees.”

  “Joe Slagel.” She scolded then tsked. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about prayer. I thought you and I could stop by the chapel for a moment or two and pray for your son together. You know what the book of Matthew says, ‘when two or more gather in my name.’”

  “One of my favorites.” Joe smiled. “I like your idea Andrea. I really do. My son needs all the help he can get.”

  <><><><>

  Ellen really wanted to speak to Joe in her dream. She really did, but how annoying that he didn’t take her seriously. Of course he wouldn’t. Not when she kept rubbing her nose and scratching her body. Everywhere on her tickled in an irritating itch with a crawling of her skin. ‘God!’ she thought in her dream. ‘Why am I so itchy? Hey, why am I so itchy?’ Suddenly while she dreamt, reality crept into her dream state, and as she laid--eyes still unable to open--she felt that tickling, from her knee to her thigh, then trailing to the inside of her leg. It felt like . . . a bug. ‘Shit! A bug!’ She freaked. As her hand frantically swiped that insect from her leg, she opened her eyes, heard the slight snickering, and her breath escaped her. With a gasp, she spoke, “Robbie.”

  He lay on his side , grinning that smile only he could grin, wide and bright. “Hey. This . . .” His hand rested on her bent knee. “…is so great.”

  So rapidly she spoke, almost stuttering, “This is a dream because you’re sick. I know this is a dream.”

  “Nope. I feel great. I have to tell you this is one hell of a get well gift.”

  She was so shocked she was speechless.

  “And you’re naked too. I think.” He flipped her robe open a little. He gave a ‘ha’ when she closed it again. “You are. Nice scar.”

  “Oh my God. You’re better.” She raised her hand up to his face. “You’re better.”

  “Yep.” His hand slid down her thigh again and she abruptly pushed it back.

  “How are you feeling? Really?” Ellen asked as she stared upon his arrogant Robbie look.

  “Really? Not a hundred percent, but compared to the past two days, I could run a marathon.”

  <><><><>

  “What?” Dean spun quickly when he heard the shuffling in the rabbit cage behind him as he washed his hands. The sick rabbit, the one who was on his deathbed not an hour earlier, sprang up from his lifeless position and headed to the cup of water. “What the . . .”

  “Dean!”

  “Shit, Ellen.” Quickly rinsing his hands then drying them, Dean flew from the special lab and toward the mobile where Ellen’s cries for help were coming from.

  “Dean!”

  “El.” He barreled to Robbie’s room, heart racing, fearing what he would see. He felt for sure that Ellen had awoken and found Robbie dead. “El . . .” He slid to a stop holding on the archway as he raced into the room “Robbie. Oh shit.” Dean held back his hair. “You’re alive. I thought you were dead. How are you feeling?”

  “Honest? Not as strong as I’d like to be.” He smiled. “But strong enough to not miss the opportunity when there’s a naked woman in bed with me.”

  Ellen placed her hands on her hips and bent down, leaning forward to the bed. “For your information mister, I was not naked.”

  “El, you were. Lying in bed, no covers and . . .” Robbie pulled on the robe separating it. “Naked underneath.”

  Ellen shrieked and jumped back behind Dean. “I’m telling Frank you copped a feel. Out of the goodness of my heart, I take care of you because I thought you were dying and I get molested? Better yet, wait until I tell Joe.” She gave a ‘so there’ look to him.

  Dean merely mumbled one word, ‘Joe’ and he dashed from the room, brushing by Ellen, as fast as he could.

  Ellen pointed back to the door. “See, he’s telling first.”

  Robbie smiled, laughed slightly and plopped backwards on the bed, he pulled the covers all the way up, and closed his eyes with a peaceful look.

  “Robbie?” Ellen spoke soft. “You all right?”

  “All the excitement.” He opened one eye. “I’m a little dizzy.”

  “Well is it any wonder?” Ellen tightened the belt to her robe and moved to the bed. “You nearly died last.” She proceeded to tuck the covers in around him tightly. “You still have to rest, Robbie. You do.” She reached down and touched his forehead. “You’re still a little warm.” She grabbed the stethoscope off the night stand and sat on the other side of the bed. “Roll on your side for me.” When he did, she listened to his back. “Cough.”

  “Aren’t you gonna grab my . . .”

  “Robbie. Cough.”

  He did. It was thick, barely rumbling, and tight. “You’re still filled up.” She took the stethoscope off, set it down, and then fluffed the pillows up behind his head. “I need you to rest. O.K.? Please? I’ll get you something to drink and eat.”

  “El.” Robbie grabbed her hand as she started to leave. He pulled her gently to sit back down. “I know I was joking around this morning.” His fingers trailed around hers and to the palm of hers hand. “I was just so happy when I woke up. I felt good and I was alive. I thought I was dying for sure last night. I know what you did for me.” He cupped her hand between both if his and he brought it to his mouth, kissing it with closed eyes. “ I am so grateful.” His warm breath brushed against her fingers tips. “Thank you. I’ll never forget it.”

  “I would have never of left your side.” Ellen extended out her fingers and touched his lips. “Never.” She saw his eyes rise to her. “I’m so glad you didn’t die on me. I don’t know what I would have done without you in my life, Robbie.” She leaned forward as he sat up some, hugged him, and kissed him on the cheek. She pulled back, looked at him, and realized that the joking around was gone and now replaced with a solemn seriousness. Knowing that, she embraced him with gratitude again.

  <><><><>

  His hands were on his hips as Frank stood side by side with his father. He tapped his fingers in an impatient arpeggio manner across the bottom edge of his belt. He stared ahead with those Frank-intimidation eyes. “So what do you think, Dad?” He titled his head in his question.

  “Don’t know,” Joe answered.

  “Is he just going to stand there?”

  “Looks like it,” Joe said.

  “And not speak?”

  “Looks like that too.”

  “Fuck.” Frank shook his head and huffed. “If he’s gonna deliver bad news, why is he making us stare at him for so long?”

  “He said it wasn’t bad.”

  “You don’t think he’s going to take off his clothes and flash us do you. I mean that’s a scary thought. He’s a little guy.”

  “Not according to Ellen.” Joe raised his eyebrows a few times.

  “Don’t even go there.” Frank ran his hand harshly down his goatee. “What the fuck?”

  As he looked out the window, Dean wondered why Frank and Joe kept staring at him. He knew
they were talking about him as well. They waited with Dean, but did they have to stare like he was some sort of entertainment? They didn’t even try to speak to him over the radio. They just kept looking at him as if he was a fish in a bowl, or they were waiting for him to do a trick or something. “El, come on!” He yelled irritated. “Frank and Joe are plotting out there. I know it.”

  “In a second. We’re getting ready.” She yelled back.

  “Ready?” Dean spun his head curiously.

  Frank threw his hands in the air. “What the fuck? Where did he go?”

  “Gone,” Joe stated.

  “You don’t think that was it, do you? You don’t think he called us up here just to display himself.”

  “No, Frank, I don’t.”

  “Then where did he go?” Frank peered closer to the window. “That’s it.” Frank raised his fist to pound on the glass. Just as it almost touched, he stopped, and his arm dropped. “Oh shit.”

  Wearing a crisp white tee shirt and his military pants, hair combed, and freshly shaven, Robbie stood at the window. He used Ellen as support, trying to make it appear that he just stood close to her rather than needed her. He pulled up a chair and sat down.

  Joe’s heart pounded nearly from his chest when he saw his son sitting there. Was this the same man that Dean had called him the night before and told him was dying? Was this the same man who Dean was certain would not make it through the next day? “Robbie.” Joe lifted his radio to his mouth.

  “Hey Dad. Frank.”

  Frank blinked several times in awe. “Robbie, you were so bad last night. Look at you walking around. How are you?”