by Lena North
Cha
pter Twenty
Going home
We were going home. I was nervous and excited at the same time, knowing well that my reception could be anything from warm and loving happiness to frozen and angry disdain, depending on Reuben’s mood.
He’d not been in a very good shape the last time I saw him. It had been the day after Joelle’s funeral. I’d been ready to leave, and he had lashed out at me, accusing me of abandoning him when he needed me the most, saying that I disrespected Joelle.
I’d tried to tell him that I’d made a promise, but he hadn’t listened to me.
Joelle had given up after years of fighting and struggling when the pain had been too much for her, and she’d had enough. One night as I sat with her, washing her face and body in a feeble attempt to make her a bit more comfortable, she’d asked me to make her a promise.
“Anything,” I whispered.
“You have to go to Uni, Mary. You got the scholarship, they won’t postpone it. You must go. Promise.”
“Joelle, no,” I said through a throat that felt clogged up with tears and my own pain. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Won’t last much longer, child,” she wheezed. “When I’m gone, Reuben will ask you to stay. He will tell you that he can’t manage without you.”
“I can wait a year with Uni,” I murmured.
“No. Mary, you have to go now. He’s not coping well with my illness, and he’ll think he can’t manage, so he’ll tell you that you owe us. Owe him.”
“But I do,” I whispered.
“No, my girl, you don’t. You’ve brought so much more to us than we ever did to you. You brought laughter to our house again, in a time when it was full of anger. You cared for your brothers, and for me. And for Reuben. He knows this, child, but he will forget for a little while, and he will ask things of you that you’ll have to say no to.”
“Oh, Joelle,” I said, but I was crying, so it came out muffled and hoarse.
“Don’t cry for me, Mary. I don’t want to go, but the truth is that it’ll be a relief. My time is up, and you know I don’t believe in any of the Gods, but I do believe in an afterlife. We’ll meet again.”
“Yes, we will,” I agreed after a long silence that I’d needed to compose myself enough to give her the answers she needed.
“That’s better,” she said and tried to smile, but I could see her pain etched into her whole being. “Now you promise me. You will go to University when it starts after the summer.”
“I promise, Joelle. I will go to University after summer,” I echoed solemnly, and when she relaxed, and the smile came a little easier, I knew that I’d done the right thing.
She died two weeks later, silently during the night as I sat next to her, holding her hand. Waking Reuben up was the single worst thing I’d ever done in my life, but leaving him had been even worse.
He stood on the porch as I packed my car, roaring at me that I needn’t bother coming back. Then he walked into the house and closed the door quietly. My brothers were nowhere to be seen, so I hadn’t said goodbye. I had to stop twice in the first fifteen minutes to get out of the car and throw up, but I kept my promise. I arrived in Prosper that night, and I’d kept my word to Joelle.
And now I was going back for the first time since I left.
While we drove, I told Miller everything about my family in Thend, starting with how Reuben and Joelle saw a young man hurting me on the back streets of Prosper, took me to the hospital and later brought me with them to Thend. I told him about happiness and music, hunting in the mountains and working the fields. I described the cave I’d found and how a group of us used to sneak up there to drink hooch and laugh ourselves silly. Then I told him about how Reuben had said I shouldn’t come back.
“You think of him as your father?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“He considered you his daughter?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then he’ll be happy you come back. Don’t know why he hasn’t contacted you, but I would guess he regretted his words within a week.”
I thought about that. Maybe he had, but Reuben was a proud man, and leaving the way I did wasn’t how things were done in Thend. You stayed, married someone from the area, had three kids before you were twenty and lived happily in the tight community. Life would be a struggle perhaps, but it was their struggle, and I knew that in a way, they found pride in persisting. In enduring and surviving.
Miller had read the diaries Wilder had found in her grandfather’s study, so when I told him that I’d learned from them about my family in the community an hour south of Norton, he knew immediately what I meant. The stories had told about a small settlement, and I knew that just as Wilder came from the people living in the mountains in those books, and Dante came from the Waterfolk – I was in a way from the people of that settlement at the end of their world. It had amused me and intrigued me, but most of all it had made me sad. Their stories had ended with such high hopes, and a lot of good had happened, but not for my people.
Reuben was waiting on the porch when we drove up to the house. They would have seen us coming and since visitors we few and far between, he would wonder who it was. His rifle rested on the porch railing, and one of my brothers stood next to him, holding his sawed-off shotgun.
There were no emotions on either of their faces as we exited the car and I knew what was expected of me, so I stopped when I’d closed the door, and waited until Miller was next to me.
“Do you need help, child?” Reuben rumbled after a while, and I exhaled with relief.
These were the words Joelle had asked me in the hospital all those years ago, and he wouldn’t say them if he weren't willing to provide help if I needed it. He wasn’t angry with me anymore.
“No,” I replied.
“Good,” he said.
Then we were silent, just watching each other calmly. I felt my mouth curve into a smile, and his lips twitched a little. My foster father wasn’t tall, but he was still a huge man. His shoulders were broad despite his age, and his whole body spoke of strength and power. The gray streaks in his curly black hair had spread, making the thick mop almost white, and I thought that the lines on his dark face had deepened a little, but his warm, brown eyes were still sharp.
“Is this your man?” he rumbled.
“Yes,” I said.
He grunted something unintelligible, and then he stretched his hand out palm up, flicking his fingers twice in a gesture I knew meant I was supposed to come to him, so I started to move. When Miller didn’t, I turned, but his eyes were on the men on the porch.
“Go to him, baby,” he murmured.
“But –”
“You first,” he cut me off. “We’ll get to me later.”
Reuben grunted again, and when Miller gave me a small nudge, I ran up the steps and into Reuben’s arms.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly as he held me. “I shouldn’t have –”
“No,” I interrupted. “Joelle told me you wouldn’t be happy with me, so I was prepared. She made me promise to leave, though. I couldn’t break my promise to her, Reuben.”
To my surprise, he chuckled a little.
“Stubborn, crazy woman,” he sighed. “Miss her, every day.”
“Me too,” I said and took a step back.
“Mary!” a young girl suddenly called out as she stepped out on the porch.
“Jenny!” I squealed right back.
She was the only daughter of the couple living on the closest farm, and we’d not been close friends, but we’d hung around in the same group. The simple dress she wore didn’t hide her obvious pregnancy. She noticed my glance at her belly and started laughing as she wrapped her arms around me.
“Gave in eventually,” she giggled. “Ronnie and I married a year ago.”
I turned to the last one on the porch with a grin.
“Ronnie,” I said, and got a
nother hug.
“Sis,” he murmured.
We weren’t siblings by blood, but we both owed Reuben and Joelle so much, and that forged a bond between us that was as strong as between any brother and sister. As I moved out of his arms, I felt how Jenny’s belly moved slightly and turned to her in surprise. She giggled and put my hand on her belly, and I felt her baby move. My eyes flew to Miller’s, and his face softened.
The two men on the porch moved immediately, and I heard the scratching sound as they cocked their guns.
“What?” I gasped and took a small step forward.
“Stay where you are, Mary,” Miller said calmly.
He had straightened a little and kept his eyes on the two barrels aimed at him, but he seemed relaxed.
“Won’t shoot her,” Reuben barked angrily. “Might shoot you.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Miller said.
“Seems to me you didn’t keep your pants zipped, boy,” Reuben growled. “So, I think you need to walk away and do it quickly, or someone will be picking buckshot out of your sorry ass for hours.”
“So shoot me,” Miller retorted. “Don’t care much about that. Care about what’s standing next to you on that porch of yours.”
“If you cared we wouldn’t be in this situation, now would we?”
Miller took a step forward, and I pressed my lips together to keep any sound from slipping out, lest it made one of the angry men accidentally pepper my man with pellets.
“Boy, I’m not going to warn you one more time.”
“I’m not exactly a boy.”
“Then you should have known better,” Reuben muttered.
“Yeah,” Miller conceded. “I should have.”
They stared at each other for what felt like forever.
“You gonna marry her?” Reuben asked, finally.
Miller suddenly snorted out a short chuckle. “Right now, I’m hoping you can convince her because I’ve tried and she’s being stubborn.”
Reuben slowly turned his head toward me and lowered his rifle. Ronnie did the same, and I exhaled.
“Jesus,” I whispered, and walked down to Miller.
He tucked me into his side, and I felt how his chest shook a little.
“Do you think this is funny?” I asked.
I thought I’d whispered it quietly enough for only him to hear, but when one of the men on the porch snorted something, I knew I’d failed.
“Well, yeah,” Miller muttered.
“Really?” I snapped, ignoring my family and glaring at him.
“I’ve tried just about everything to get you to agree to marry me, so yeah. This was kind of funny.”
“Humpf,” I huffed, and he grinned down at me.
“You’re that vet from Norton,” Ronnie said.
“I am.”
“You helped the Johnsons with their cattle the other year,” Reuben added.
“I did,” Miller agreed.
“Didn’t charge them.”
“Interesting case, had nothing better to do. Got a good meal out of it,” Miller said casually.
“Huh,” Reuben grunted.
“Seen you hunting in the mountains,” Ronnie said, and added, “You’re a decent shot.”
“Thanks.”
“Mary’s better,” Ronnie added smugly.
“Good to know,” Miller muttered. “Haven’t seen you in the forest, though.”
They laughed at him, and I grinned a little too. There was no way anyone would see the people from Thend if they didn’t want to be seen. The forest covering the lower parts of the mountains was their back yard. They’d hunted there for generations, knew every path, every brook, and they had learned how to disguise themselves. Even someone like me with my fair skin knew how to stay hidden if I wanted it.
“We know how to stay unseen,” Reuben said and walked down the steps. “I’m Reuben,” he said and stretched his hand out.
“Miller.”
“Come, let’s sit for a while.”
Then we finally walked into the place I’d called home. It looked the same as the day I left, and I laughed when I saw that they still had some of my paintings on the walls. They looked nice, but I’d learned so much since then, and when I looked closely at them, I shook my head.
“I do better work now,” I murmured.
“If you bring me something, you know it’ll be on the wall, but I’m not taking those down,” Reuben rumbled. “You painted them for us… for Joelle and me. Remind me of the years we had, and how happy you made her.”
“Mary, stitchy!” a voice suddenly called out, and I turned.
A man shuffled into the room, and Miller immediately moved to position himself in front of me. I got why he would because the man was tall and heavily muscled, his head was partially deformed, and he spoke with a slight slur as if he was drunk. He also held his right arm out, showing a deep cut that was bleeding a little.
I pushed Miller back because I had nothing to fear. This was my other brother. This was Boon, and I knew what he wanted me to do.
“Boony,” I murmured and walked toward him. “You know you shouldn’t cut yourself.”
“Hurt,” he said happily.
“I know,” I said calmly, flicked my eyes over at Ronnie who nodded and left only to come back immediately with a drab box with a red cross on it. “Sit down, and I’ll fix you right up.”
Miller moved a little again but stopped when Boon growled.
“Stay back, Mill. It won’t take long, and I know what to do,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t try to get involved.
Boon had been injured shortly before I came to Thend, and whatever had been done to him had changed his brain into that of a young child. He was Ronnie’s brother by blood, and when Reuben and Joelle had brought Ronnie from Twin City, he’d refused to come unless Boon could come too. Even Ronnie didn’t know what had happened and had told Reuben that he’d been called to the emergency room after someone found his brother alone and injured. The huge man wasn’t a danger to anyone except himself, but we’d lived with the consequences of what had been done to him, and one of them was that he liked to hurt himself. The doctors at the free clinic said he’d likely been hit hard on his head with something sharp, and there was nothing to do, except keeping sharp objects away from him which of course was virtually impossible in a home. They offered to have Boon put away in a home for disabled, but Ronnie had apparently gone completely ballistic and threatened to disappear with his brother, so Reuben had taken both with him back to Thend. Then he let Boon tag along on the fields, where he seemed happy to work hard from sunrise to the evening meal, pulling more than his weight.
Sometimes, though, whatever demons Boon had bouncing around in his damaged head caught up with him, and he ended up cutting himself. When I moved to the farm, he took one look at me and smiled sweetly. I hadn’t smiled in a long time, so it had been wobbly, but I’d smiled back, and from then on, I’d been the one stitching him up when he needed it. My hands had been shaking the first couple of times, but he’d been so happy that I did it that I hadn’t been able to refuse, and over time I got used to it.
As I cleaned up the wound, I talked calmly to Boon about this and that, asking him about the farm and listening as he described the dog Reuben had given him the previous Christmas. Then I stretched my hand out toward the first aid kit to start looking for a needle and the surgical thread I knew would be there. To my surprise, an already threaded needle was put in my hand.
“You’re not going to give him any pain relief?” Miller muttered.
“He doesn’t want it,” I said as I took the needle and started moving the edges of the wound together.
“Okay. Secure the muscle first, then pull the skin on top,” Miller said.
I smiled at him, and then at my injured brother.
“This is Miller,” I said. “He had a wound in his leg a few weeks ago, although he stitched it up himself,” I added, and
heard Miller groan but Boon started laughing.
“Stitchy?” he asked.
“Yup,” Miller said calmly. “Only five, though.”
I stopped working on Boon’s arm.
“You said three to me,” I snapped.
“You were being pissy. Three seemed like a low enough number to calm you down,” Miller murmured and stretched his arm out slowly to wipe off some blood from the arm I was holding on my lap.
“Huh,” I said, although I let my lips curve into a smile when Reuben started laughing.
Then I stitched my poor troubled brother up, wiped his arm clean, and put a strip of surgical tape on top of the wound.
“There,” I sighed. “Okay, Boony?”
“Good,” Boon said and got to his feet. “Sleepy,” he added, and I nodded even though he’d already turned abruptly and was on his way up the stairs to his room. He always wanted to sleep for hours after one of his episodes.
“Thank you, Mary,” Reuben sighed. “He’s better most of the time, but sometimes…”
I wiped off my hands and set about cleaning up the needle, knowing that it would have to be used again.
“I know,” I murmured.
“I’ll let you stitch me up next time, baby,” Miller murmured as he gathered up the swabs we’d used.
“You’re pretty calm about this,” Ronnie said.
“Yup,” Miller said. “Guess I don’t frazzle easily.”
“Guess so,” Ronnie said.
Then Jenny walked out of the kitchen with a tray, looked at Reuben who nodded toward the back porch, and since I knew well that neither of the men would help her, I quickly tucked the needle into the first aid kit, and got to my feet.
“I’ll take that,” I heard Miller say behind me as I walked into the kitchen, and I almost laughed out loud.
The men in Thend would not appreciate him doing women’s work, though I should have known that someone like Mill wouldn’t let a pregnant girl carry a heavy tray.
Ch
apter Twenty-one
Calm as you please
The afternoon passed quickly as we sat on the porch, talking about everything that had happened, and telling Miller about some of our memories from my years with them.
