by Sharon Sala
Several times he thought he heard footsteps in the house and would turn, expecting to see his father walk into the room with a big welcome-home grin on his face, and then remember. He made a note to get a Wi-Fi connection at the house and to set up his email.
It was moving toward noon when he finally closed all of the windows and turned on the central heat to warm up the house, then grabbed the keys to his dad’s pickup from a small nail inside one of the upper cabinets and headed toward the barn. It’s where he’d left the truck after the funeral.
A trio of pigeons roosting in the rafters flew off when he entered. The red Chevrolet truck was a little dusty but otherwise intact. Jake unlocked it with the remote and then looked inside. It was just as he’d left it. He backtracked to the last granary where he’d hidden the battery and put it back in the vehicle. He checked the oil, the transmission fluid, and the air pressure in the tires before he was satisfied, and then started it up and drove it to the house and parked beneath the carport.
He was back in the kitchen making a sandwich when he thought of Laurel Payne again and wondered where she’d been going so early, then wondered what she did for a living. It had to be tough being a single parent.
He sat down in the living room to eat and turned on the television to catch local news, only to realize he didn’t recognize any of the journalists reporting. So some things had changed after all.
The food he’d made was tasteless, but his hunger had been satisfied, and that was all that mattered. He was thinking about going into town and setting up his banking, then checking in with the post office to let them know he was home and to resume delivery.
But then he fell asleep and went back to war.
The explosion from the IED sounded like the end of the world, and when Jake came to, he thought he was dead. The pain from his wounds had yet to register, and he was trying desperately to stand. He couldn’t hear, he couldn’t see for the smoke and dust, and he couldn’t feel his legs. This was a blistering disappointment. He thought heaven would be prettier than this.
Someone yelled at him. DeSosa! He was telling him not to die, but the way he felt, he wasn’t making any promises. It wasn’t until the ground began vibrating beneath him and the air was spinning above his head that he started yelling for help. That was a chopper, and he didn’t want to be left behind.
Jake woke up in a sweat, his heart pounding and tears in his eyes.
“Son of a… Ah, God,” he muttered, and bolted off the sofa as if he’d been launched, trying to get as far away from the dream as possible.
He yanked the front door open and strode onto the porch, taking in the fresh air in gulps. The sweat on his forehead began to cool as the tears dried on his cheeks, and he began to pace. The loose boards squeaked, reminding him of a job still undone. Furious from the dream and frustrated because the war still haunted his life, he went straight to the toolshed for a hammer and nails, then back to the house.
Every time the hammer made contact with a nail, it took everything he had not to duck, because it sounded like gunshots. He was so focused on getting rid of the nightmare that he didn’t see Laurel Payne driving home, but she saw him.
* * *
Laurel was already exhausted and she still had four loads of laundry to do and supper to cook for her and Bonnie. She’d actually forgotten about seeing Jacob Lorde this morning until she drove past the house and saw him on his hands and knees on the porch. She saw the hammer in his hand and remembered the loose boards when she’d been there last month to clean the house. It was obvious he wasn’t wasting any time putting it to rights.
But when she consciously noticed how broad his shoulders were, she looked away. She didn’t care what he looked like. He didn’t matter in her world and never would. She had a daughter to raise, and she wanted nothing to do with another war vet.
Her head was hurting by the time she got home, and climbing those steep steps into their double-wide trailer seemed like insult adding to her injury. Once inside, she breathed a sigh of relief at being in her own home, not someone else’s, and headed for her bedroom.
The first thing she did was take down her hair. It was thick and a slightly curly auburn that hung well below her shoulders, and sometimes having it up all day gave her a headache. As soon as it was down, the release of tension in her body was palpable. She quickly changed her clothes and got to work.
By the time the school bus stopped to let Bonnie off, Laurel was taking the last batch of cookies from the oven. She had the third load of clothes in the washing machine, a load in the dryer, and vegetable soup simmered on the back burner.
The sound of Bonnie’s footsteps coming up the steps of their trailer was Laurel’s signal for an emotional shift. Whatever was bothering her did not belong on her little girl’s radar. She turned toward the door with a smile. Seconds later, Bonnie came inside in a rush, talking nonstop.
“Mama, I got a happy face on my new words, and Lewis threw up on my shoe at lunch. Mrs. Hamilton washed it off but it still smells funny. I think it got on my sock, too. Milly was mean to me at recess but I told her she was acting like a baby. Then she cried, which proved I was right. Can I have a cookie? How long till supper?”
Laurel grinned. “Come here and give me a kiss. I missed you today.”
Bonnie threw her arms around her mother’s neck and kissed Laurel’s cheek as she reached for a cookie.
Laurel grinned when she saw the second cookie in Laurel’s other hand and stopped her long enough to get the stinky tennis shoes and socks off Laurel’s feet.
“Change out of your school clothes before you go feed Lavonne, and put on socks with your old shoes. It’s chilly out today.”
“I will,” Bonnie said. “Can Lavonne have a cookie, too?”
“No. Chickens don’t need to eat sugar. Just her regular feed, okay?”
“Okay, Mama,” Bonnie said, and ran barefoot to her room, her little feet making splat, splat sounds as she went.
In minutes she was out the back door and running toward the little chicken coop. Her daddy had built it for Lavonne, and she thought of him every time she went to feed her pet, but it was getting harder to remember what he looked like. That scared her a little, but she was afraid to talk to Mama about it. She heard Mama crying sometimes at night. It was hard being Mama’s big girl when she still felt little and scared.
When she unlocked the gate to the fence around the coop and Lavonne came running, it made the sad thoughts go away. Lavonne was her buddy and had the prettiest black feathers ever. Mama said she was from a family of chickens called Australorps, but Bonnie disagreed. Lavonne was from the family of Paynes.
The chicken’s constant clucks sounded a lot like Bonnie’s chatter as Bonnie scooped up feed and put it in the feeder inside the coop. When she left the chicken yard to get fresh water, Lavonne was right beside her, clucking and occasionally pausing to peck the ground.
“What was that?” Bonnie asked. “Did you get a bug? Good job!” Then she suddenly squatted and pointed her finger in the grass. “Oooh, look, Lavonne, there’s another one!”
Lavonne was on it in seconds, then wandered off a few feet while Bonnie carried fresh water back to the coop and filled the watering station. As soon as she was through with all that, she pulled a fresh hunk off the bale of straw and loosened it. She was getting ready to put it in Lavonne’s nest when she saw the egg.
She squealed and dropped the straw then came out of the chicken coop on the run, screaming, “Mommy, Mommy.”
When Laurel heard Bonnie’s scream her heart stopped. She dropped the armload of wet clothes back into the washer and went out the back door on the run.
“What’s wrong?” she cried, as Bonnie ran into her arms.
Bonnie held out the egg in two hands as if it were pure gold.
“Look, Mama, look! Lavonne laid an egg. Does that mean she’s all grown up now?
”
Laurel was so weak with relief it took a moment to answer.
“Well, my goodness, I guess it does. Way to go, Lavonne,” Laurel said.
Bonnie giggled.
“We’re both growing up, aren’t we, Mama? Here, you take the egg. I’m going to play with Lavonne some more.”
Laurel sighed as she watched Bonnie running back to the coop. Yes. Her little girl was growing up. She turned around to go back to the house, carrying the proof of Lavonne’s launch into hen-hood, and the farther she went, the angrier she became at Adam. By the time she reached the back steps, she was crying.
“Oh, Adam, just look at what you’re missing. Why did you have to go and blow your damn head off? We need you. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
Chapter 2
Truman Slade drove up to his house, a place he’d been renting for almost a year that was a couple miles outside of Blessings. He wished he’d had the foresight to pick up some barbecue before he’d left town. It was almost sundown, and with no lights burning from inside the house, it appeared uninhabited, which suited Truman just fine. He liked flying under the radar.
The night air was cold, making him hurry as he moved toward the house and unlocked the door. He locked it behind him and then went through the house turning on lights, then ignited the fire in the fireplace. It didn’t burn real wood, but the fake logs behind the propane flames made it look real pretty. The stove popped as the flame caught, and then he turned on the TV for company before heading to the kitchen.
A quick search through the cabinets and then the refrigerator confirmed what he already knew. There were no leftovers of any kind anywhere. Forced to make do with what was there, he ate peanut butter and crackers for supper, washing them down with reheated coffee, and blamed his forgetfulness on Jacob Lorde’s return to Blessings.
Truman had been back in town for some time now and deceived himself into believing people had forgotten his past transgressions, but that would no longer be possible now that the man who’d sent him to prison would be a physical reminder.
This place wasn’t big enough for both of them, but he wasn’t sure how he could bring that to a successful resolution without winding up back in jail.
* * *
Ruby Dye was carrying trash to the alley behind The Curl Up and Dye while the twins, Vesta and Vera Conklin, were sweeping the floor and folding towels, getting everything ready for the next day.
Mabel Jean, the manicurist, was about to lock the front door when LilyAnn Dalton from Phillips’ Pharmacy came hurrying inside with a big smile on her face.
“Oh, you’re locking up,” she said. “I won’t keep you, but I just heard news Ruby will want to know.”
“What news?” Ruby asked as she came in from outside.
“Jacob Lorde is home!” LilyAnn said.
Ruby smiled. “So that’s who I saw getting off the bus this morning. Is he staying for good?” she asked.
“That’s what I heard,” LilyAnn said. “Remember he was here for his daddy’s funeral, and then he went back to his unit? So, they said he suffered some pretty severe injuries not long after that. Anyway, he’s out of the army on an honorable discharge.”
Ruby frowned. “He’s out there all by himself. We need to get some of the ladies at church to make some food. We can take it to him tomorrow evening. Like a welcome-home visit.”
LilyAnn grinned.
“I’m in for macaroni and cheese casserole,” she said. “I’ll bring it by the shop tomorrow before you close, and I’ll volunteer my Ford Explorer to make deliveries if others will go with me.”
“That’s wonderful,” Ruby said. “I’ll go, and I’ll get at least one more to go with us.”
LilyAnn waved good-bye and left as abruptly as she’d appeared.
“Well, now,” Vesta said. “I remember him as a really nice-looking young man.”
Vera frowned.
“Isn’t he the one who testified against Truman Slade while he was still in high school?”
Ruby nodded.
“I’d forgotten about that, but now that you mention it, he sure did.”
Vera’s frown deepened.
“That no-account Slade lives outside of town. I wonder if he’ll try to bother Jake?”
Ruby shrugged.
“Truman Slade went to prison. Jake Lorde went to war. My money is on Jake no matter what occurs. Now, as far as I’m concerned, this day is over. Let’s go home.”
“I vote for that,” Mabel Jean said.
A few minutes later they were gone.
* * *
Laurel put the last glass in the dishwasher and started the cycle, then went to get the final load of laundry from the dryer. Since it was all towels and washcloths, she carried them to her bedroom to fold later. She could hear Bonnie playing in her room as she passed the door and smiled. It sounded as if she was playing school and using her stuffed toys for students. Bonnie was always the teacher, and Panda Bear was her worst student. He suffered a lot of time-outs.
Laurel tossed the towels on the bed, then went to get Bonnie ready for bed. As she walked in, Bonnie was putting Panda Bear in time-out again.
Laurel grinned.
“It’s bedtime, honey,” she said lightly.
Bonnie frowned. “Oh, Mommy, not yet. Panda was naughty.”
“Well, you go brush your teeth and put on your nightgown. By the time you’re finished, his time-out will be over, okay?”
“Okay,” Bonnie said, and then shook her finger at the bear as she walked out of the room, as if to say you better behave.
Laurel could imagine Bonnie’s teacher doing the same thing at school. Teaching was one job she could never do. She wouldn’t last a day with a room full of six-year-olds.
Bonnie had squirted a little toothpaste on the end of her finger and was writing on the mirror when Laurel walked in.
“Bonnie Carol! Why on earth are you doing that?”
Bonnie looked startled.
“But, Mommy, when Daddy used to shave it made the mirror get all foggy, and he would write Hello to me on the glass. I just wanted to write Hello back to Daddy…in case he came to see me while I was asleep.”
There was a knot in Laurel’s throat, but she made herself smile.
“You are right! I forgot he used to do that. So, finish writing your word and then wash your hands. It’s time to get in bed.”
“Okay,” Bonnie said, and added the last L and O, then washed and dried her hands.
Laurel waited in the doorway, then followed Bonnie across the hall to her room. Bonnie skipped over to where she’d left Panda and tossed him on her pillow.
“I’m gonna sleep with Panda tonight so he won’t feel bad for getting in trouble today.”
“Good idea,” Laurel said, still struggling not to burst into tears. She sat on the side of Bonnie’s bed to hear her prayers.
“Okay God, here’s the deal,” Bonnie said.
Laurel rolled her eyes. Now she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as her daughter continued. “I wrote Daddy a note on the mirror. Tell him it’s here so he can some see it. Also, bless Mommy, who works very hard. Bless Daddy, who is in heaven. Bless Lavonne for laying her first egg. And bless Mr. Lorde’s son. I think he is lonesome. Amen.”
Laurel was so stunned to hear Jake Lorde added to the prayer list that she didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. Instead, she pulled the covers over Bonnie’s shoulders, tucked in the naughty Panda, and kissed her good night.
“I love you very much,” Laurel whispered.
“I love you, too, Mommy. Don’t forget to leave—”
“I know, I know,” Laurel said. “I’m leaving the night-light on.”
Bonnie sighed. “Thank you, Mommy. You and Lavonne are just about the best friends I have.”
Laurel p
atted her daughter’s shoulder.
“Thank you for putting me in such fine company,” Laurel said, and then reached over and turned on the angel night-light plugged in near the headboard and tiptoed out of the room.
She went into her bedroom with tears rolling down her cheeks, folded the towels on her bed, and put them away, then took a quick shower and put on her pajamas. She paused in the hall outside Bonnie’s door, making sure she was asleep, and then walked through the house, making sure both doors were locked.
She didn’t have to be at work tomorrow until 10:00 a.m. That meant she could make a decent breakfast for Bonnie before she caught the bus. She closed her eyes, whispered a quick “thank you” prayer for getting through another day, and then thought of what Bonnie said about Jake Lorde being lonely, and impulsively added a quick prayer for him to be well in mind and body. The moment she said it, she felt guilty. It was the same prayer she’d prayed for Adam, and it hadn’t worked.
A little uneasy that she’d somehow marked Jake Lorde’s future as iffy, she turned over, pulled the covers over her shoulders, and cried herself to sleep.
* * *
Jake’s rest was never sound, and sleeping in a new place exacerbated the process. He had been gone so long that the sounds of the old farmhouse were unfamiliar again.
The pop at the window behind him was nothing but a limb from the azalea bush blowing in the wind. The creak on the floorboard in the hall was just the house settling, and the drip he kept hearing was the showerhead in the bathroom. He knew the sounds when he was awake, but when they filtered through his sleep into the nightmare he was having, they sounded like an enemy ambush.
He could see them moving through the shadows, heard the clink of metal against metal, and knew he needed to run, but his feet wouldn’t move. He tried to shout a warning to the others, but he couldn’t make a sound. He could hear someone crying and was afraid to turn around and look, for fear he’d see yet another one of his buddies dying. And then the world exploded.
