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

by Jacqueline Druga

  Danny chuckled. “Bentley will love that idea.”

  “He already does.” Joe stopped at the door. “Danny, I wanted to ask you something, if I may.”

  “Sure.”

  “You said you went to school to be an architect. We had a man here, he left, who redesigned our housing units, using the supplies to make some three bedrooms instead of two. Seems like something has happened to those prints. Everything is prefab. Do you suppose you can do that?”

  “Redesign them? Sure, why not?” Danny shrugged. “Why not just design newer housing?”

  “Like I said, it’s prefab and we have all the supplies already.”

  “Joe, you have a world of supplies out there, and a world of prefab houses.”

  “Danny?” Joe was a bit confused.

  “Simple. You need wood to build new homes. Just like you would go to Miles City to get a barber chair, you go to Miles City to get a house or stuff to build one. The possibilities are endless, Joe.”

  “Well, you think about that. We have growing families and some are just smashed into two bedroom homes. I’d like to give them more room.”

  “Then we will. When I get out, I’d like to look at the prints for the prefab houses and the supplies for them.”

  “Deal.” Joe reached up his hand to the keypad. “Oh, Danny.” Joe winked and shook Danny’s hand. “I have a good feeling about you. It’s good to have you aboard.”

  “Thanks, Joe.”

  With a swat to Danny’s shoulder, Joe punched in his code. He walked through the small office, saying his goodbyes to the guard, and then out into the hot sunny day that waited for him. As soon as he stepped out he saw Frank, just the man he was looking for. “Frank?”

  Frank stopped in a skid in his hurry move to the Living Section. “Oh hey, Dad.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  “Heading back home. Josh is with the kids, and I needed to get to Distribution for milk before they closed.” He held up the container. “See ya.”

  “Frank. Wait.”

  “I need to get back.”

  “Just one second.” Joe hobbled to him. “Care to tell me why I got a call on my radio from Jason that Dean is wandering around in circles out in the field by his lab?”

  “Nope. See ya.” Laughing, Frank quickly took off.

  <><><><>

  The slam of the front door rattled the archway and Dean, dirty, sweaty, and hot, stormed into the house. “Frank!” he screamed out into the darkness of the home he guessed was correct. “Frank! Oh I’d better be in Frank’s house.”

  Frank came from the kitchen drying his hands. “Whoa, hey, Dean, you’re here.”

  “I hate you!” Dean bellowed at him. “I really hate you, Frank.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? Four hours. Four hours I wandered around in circles, mind you, trying to get home.”

  “I made it.”

  “You’re an asshole! I didn’t make it. Did you stop to wonder if I was all right? Did you stop to think I might need help? No! All I got was every half hour, Robbie driving by saying, ‘You OK, Dean?’ And forget telling him ‘no’ because he’d just drive off anyhow!”

  “How’d you get back?” Frank asked.

  “I walked! Walked! It took the kids getting out of school for me to hear enough noise to follow!” Knowing Frank’s house well from walking it for an hour, Dean moved into the living room. “I’m hot, Frank, I’m tired, and I hate you. I just don’t want to be bothered by you right now.”

  “What are you doing, Dean?”

  “Sitting on your couch. Am I allowed?”

  “Oh sure.” Frank tossed his hand up. “Go on. But just remember, never take anything for granted.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean lowered himself to sit and instead of his body plopping on the couch he expected to be there, his body plopped down to the floor.

  “That,” Frank answered.

  “Where is the couch, Frank?”

  “I moved it.”

  “You moved it?” Dean picked himself up. “I’m blind! I learned this house inside and out last night. Why would you move the couch on me?”

  “To show you things are never what you think they are.”

  Dean grunted loudly. “You keep throwing these Frank-tests at me and I keep failing them! When are you going to learn they don’t work?”

  “Bullshit,” Frank snapped. “They work. Your blind ass made it two miles to my house, alone. It may have taken you hours, but you made it. You made it. The next time you’re stuck somewhere, you’ll pull upon what you learned today and you’ll make it through that situation too.” Frank backed up and went into the kitchen. “Don’t try to jump on the bed either,” Frank yelled from the other room. “I moved that too.”

  Annoyed and with a sore rear-end, Dean knew one thing. Frank was right.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Andrea ran a dab of Hair Hold in between her fingers and touched her fingers to the strands of hair that hung down onto Ellen’s neck. Spirals, Andrea had curled them, adding the hair product to the soft curls to hold them in place as they dangled from the perfect test hair-do that Andrea and Jenny did to Ellen before she tried on the dress that nearly fit her perfectly. Ellen’s dark blond hair was pulled up and back loosely, twisted and tucked, with the ends curled about. It was so fancy, so unlike her, but Ellen didn’t mind the half hour it took for Andrea and Jenny to do her hair. She actually liked being fussed over. ‘Practice preparations’ Jenny called them. Standing in front of her bedroom dresser mirror in the off-white dress Ben worked so hard to redo, so lacey, so turn of the century. It was hard to believe, as Ellen looked at herself, that Josephine had actually worn the dress sixty years earlier. It wasn’t just Josephine’s dress; it was also Josephine’s mother’s as well.

  She was the woman they labeled senile, who four years earlier they found sitting on her front porch like a Caucasian version of a Stephen King character. She brought that dress with her along with so much that those in Beginnings always found interesting. And like those trinkets Josephine shared with the community, she now shared that dress, telling Ellen and the women that anyone who could wear it, should.

  “Girl.” Andrea ran her hand down the front of the dress, a closed-mouth proud look on her face. “Look at you in this dress. I feel like your mom.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Ellen stared in awe.

  “You don’t need but an inch taken up. Ben won’t even need to cut this dress,” Andrea commented.

  “Maybe you can wear it next.” Ellen giggled. “We are the same size.”

  “Sweet Jesus, Ellen.” Andrea waved her hand with a ‘tsk’. “Who in God’s world will I marry? No-no. I’m fine wearing this.” Andrea touched the straight, long blue dress she wore. A simple large pearl decorated the gathered front.

  “Those turned out nice.” Ellen turned from the mirror. “Jenny, you took yours off?”

  Jenny tossed on her tee shirt. “I have to be getting home. This was fun but I have to leave. John gets nervous if he is stuck making dinner.” Jenny slipped into her shorts. “I’ll leave the invitations here for Henry to look at, Ellen.” She grabbed her dress and stuck it on the hanger. “You look great in that dress. Henry will be so pleased when he sees you walking down the aisle.”

  “You think?” Ellen asked, almost uncertain.

  “Oh sure.”

  Andrea unzipped her own dress. “I’d better be going too. We’ve been here for two hours. Goodness. Henry will be home soon so get out of that dress.” She slipped from her own, grabbed her clothes and put them on.

  “Another minute or two.” Ellen looked at her reflection. “I’ve never worn a wedding dress before.”

  Jenny walked up behind Ellen, straightening the shoulders on the dress. “Maybe the reason for that is you were waiting for the right man to wear one for.”

  “I think you’re right.” Ellen smiled. “Jenny.” She stopped Jenny as she started to leave the bedroom. “Your hairp
ins, I can take them out now.”

  “Just give them to me tomorrow, so I can put them away for the wedding.”

  “OK.” Ellen fussed with her hair. “I can’t leave it this like this. Henry will see. I want him to be surprised.”

  Andrea, dressed, and her bridesmaid gown draped over her arm, walked to Ellen. “He will be. Now make sure you put that in the dark sack. We don’t need Henry seeing it before the wedding.”

  “I’ll be sure.” Ellen accepted the kiss on the cheek from Andrea. “Thanks.”

  “See you tomorrow.” Andrea took one more look at Ellen then walked from the bedroom.

  Knowing it was time to slip back into a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, Ellen reached her hands to her hair to feel for the pins that Jenny had placed in her hair. As her arms rose, she heard Andrea saying ‘Hi, Frank’. Ellen’s arms dropped. “Frank?” She closed her eyes and jumped back when the single knock at the door startled her.

  “El.” Frank walked in, and the moment he saw her turn to look at him, Frank’s heart dropped. “Oh my God.”

  “Frank,” Ellen spoke nervously, “what are you doing here?”

  “I uh ... I took a walk. Dean is spending time ... God, El, you’re beautiful.”

  Ellen’s head dropped in a blush. “Frank.”

  Frank walked up to her. “Look at you.” His hand reached out and touched lightly to her face.

  Ellen closed her eyes and tiled her head unconsciously into his touch. She caught herself and her head sprang up. “But this isn’t me.” She turned from him. “I have to get out of this, Frank. Oh I hate this dress up stuff.” Her hands rose to her hair again. “So you left Dean alone?”

  “Yep. Fifteen-minute test. I figured I’d come here and bother you.”

  “Care to help. I have a million hairpins in this hair.”

  “Sure.” Frank walked up behind her. His huge hands dug in her hair along with Ellen’s hands, pulling out pins and setting them on the dresser. “This reminds me of the time you had your hair pulled up for that dinner. Remember?” Frank dropped some pins. He separated her hair. “I’ll do this.” He removed her hands. “I swore we dug pins from your hair for fifteen minutes.”

  “I remember that, not to mention all the hair spray.”

  “This feels soft though.” Frank tried to run his fingers through her hair and they got stuck. He laughed. “Maybe not. What did you do? Tease you hair?”

  “Andrea did.”

  “Last pin.” He handed it to her then reached around for the brush. “You or me?”

  “I can do it. Thanks.” Ellen smiled. “Step back.” She bent over flinging her hair forward and brushed it, talking to Frank’s boots, “Thanks for your help.”

  “No problem. I needed to waste fifteen minutes, which with walking time included, is almost up. You’ll see him soon though. I’m sending him down here to try walking alone again. He did good today, El. Made it home all by himself.”

  “I heard it took him forever.”

  “But at least he made it.” He watched Ellen straighten up and fling her hair back as she stood. It was full and Frank shrieked in a joke at her.

  “Frank.” She hit him lightly with the brush then brushed her hair flat. She turned her back to him. “Could you undo the zipper for me?”

  “Sure.” Frank hesitated in his reach then grabbed the zipper, pulling it down slowly, looking at her bare back as he exposed it. He swallowed and separated the open garment. “All ... I have to go.” He stepped back quickly.

  “Frank?”

  “Fifteen minutes is up, El. Dean will panic.” He opened the door. “I’ll see you.”

  “Frank?” Ellen was at a loss when Frank darted out.

  Frank paused on the top step before going down. He looked back at the partially opened bedroom door, wanting so badly to go back in there, but he couldn’t. The best thing for him at that moment was to go home. He hurried down the steps. As he reached for the front door, it opened, and Henry walked in.

  “Frank?” Henry said on his entrance. “How come you’re here?”

  “Eating up time. Dean’s home alone for the first time with the kids. Trial thing. You know.”

  “You leaving?”

  “Yeah, El’s upstairs. Uh, Henry, don’t go up there.”

  “Why?” Henry asked, afraid of the answer.

  “She has her wedding dress on. Bad luck.” Frank laughed then turned somber. “Even though I know and you know this will be as real as it is right now, it’s still … still hard to see her getting ready to marry someone else. You got her, legally married or not. Sometimes that just sucks. And I feel bad because I always think you don’t deserve it. But I guess that’s just me.”

  “Frank.”

  “I’ll see you, Henry.” Frank tapped once on the edge of the door then pulled it closed as he left.

  Henry closed his eyes tightly and leaned in toward that closed door. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly, laying his palm flush against it. “It isn’t you. I don’t deserve it.” He stayed there for a minute like that, thinking about the look on his friend’s face. As he turned from the door, he saw Ellen standing on the next to last step. “El.”

  “Attached to that door, Henry?” she asked, then walked all the way down. “Look at my fluffy hair. They had me teased and pulled up, fussed over. How was your day?”

  “Good.” Henry kept a quiet demeanor.

  Ellen was a little surprised and her face showed it. “What’s wrong?”

  “El, we have to talk.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “I can’t … I can’t do this, El. Any of this.”

  Ellen squinted her eyes. “I’m sorry. I guess I was getting caught up in a wedding I never had. Forgetting it wasn’t real.” She stood. “I’ll talk to Frank, get him to cause a scene and …”

  “No, I’ll just take the heat and call it off.”

  “Henry, what’s going on?” Ellen asked.

  “All this. The wedding. Us. How we got married and …”

  “You’re upset because this isn’t real.”

  “I’m upset because I don’t deserve any of it.”

  Ellen forced a smile. “What are you talking about?”

  “I haven’t been honest with you. I haven’t been.” Henry spoke nearly in a whisper, “Before we continue on with this friendship, living here half the time, fake wedding … there’s something you need to know.”

  “Do I want to know this?”

  “You need to know this.” Henry reached back and closed the bedroom door.

  <><><><>

  “Man,” Frank commented when Dean walked in. “You just went over there. Didn’t they want you either? Or didn’t you go?”

  “I went.” Dean shut the door. “Frank ...”

  “What did they do? Kick you out?” Frank laughed.

  “You can say that, Frank.” Dean walked farther into the house. “Henry’s calling off the wedding.”

  “No he’s not. I was just there.” Frank snickered. “Dean, you lost your sight not your mind. I just came back from there, right before you left. Remember? It’s been like what ... two fuckin minutes?”

  “No, Frank. When I got there, Ellen was storming out. I knocked, asked Henry. He wouldn’t let me in. All he said was he called off the wedding.”

  “Wow.” Frank placed his hands on his hips and dropped his head. “This is and isn’t a shock.” Frank paused, fluttering his lips. “Do you know why? I mean, why call off something that isn’t real? Unless they planned to tell us it wasn’t real when it actually was.”

  “Would they do that again?”

  “It’s Ellen.”

  “True, but ...” Dean breathed out heavily. “Something does not feel right.”

  “Nope. It don’t.” Frank walked over and sat on the couch. “But I’m not getting involved in that. A deal is a deal. I’m just gonna hang out with you.”

  “Do you think that’s the best option?”

  “Dean, whether you
or I like it or not. This is not our concern.”

  “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Yes.”

  Frank smiled. “Absolutely.”

  <><><><>

  The invitations to the wedding. They sat on the table and Henry supposed Ellen was going to show him. But then he told her. Ellen ended up showing him the invitations another way ...

  “You needed to tell me ...” She ripped up the three invitations. “…before this!” She tossed the pieces harshly at him. They sprayed like rain into his face then onto the floor. “It doesn’t matter what you say, Henry, nothing, nothing is gonna make up for the hurt your cowardliness just caused me.” She brushed harshly by him, smacking her shoulder into Henry as she passed him, flung open the door, and ran out.

  Now Henry’s fingers trembled as he sat at the dining room table. So sad, his fingers worked on piecing back together the ripped up wedding invitations. Diligently and with such determination, he tore small strips of tape and carefully rebuilt the invitations to what they were. There was no reason for it, maybe it was symbolic for him vowing to try to put together what he tore between him and Ellen.

  The clicking of the front door handle went through Henry like a shock. The last he spoke to Frank, he hadn’t found Ellen, yet when Henry looked up, Ellen was walking into his home. “El.” He stood, dropping the invitation to the table and racing to the door. “Where have you been?”

  “Not here.” She walked to the steps.

  “El, can we talk? Please can we talk?”

  “No,” she said somberly and began to walk up the steps.

  Henry followed her, determined to speak with her. “El, listen I’ve been ...”

  “Henry.” Ellen spun to him when she reached the top step. “I’m not in the mood to talk.” She walked to their bedroom.

  “You can’t go to bed mad at me, El.”

  “Mad? No, Henry, I’m not mad.” Ellen walked around to the bottom of the bed and reached under it. She pulled out a duffel bag.