Ripples Through Time

by Lincoln Cole

  Why was life so complicated?

  A few minutes passed with the only sound the fluttering hay she was throwing and her breathing and then she wiped her brow off. “I couldn’t go anyway. I don’t have the right kind of clothes. The best thing I have is my Sunday dress and it’s not half as nice as what she wears every day. And maybe this is a setup and she wants to get back at me for robbing her.”

  “Well, if it is, maybe you should do it anyway. After all, you did rob her, and what’s the worst that could—whoa!”

  She heard a board crack above her head and looked up just in time to see Buell stumble over the edge of the loft and out into open air. His pitchfork—thankfully—went flying well beyond the end of the wagon, but she heard a thud as Buell’s arm whacked against the side of the wagon on his way down. He hit the ground with a grunt.

  “Buell!” Emily shouted, dropping her pitchfork and running to the edge of the wagon and looming over. He was rolling on the ground, moaning with his eyes closed. His right arm looked like it was bleeding, but she couldn’t tell from where.

  Emily jumped off the wagon and knelt next to him. She grabbed his shoulders. “Lay still,” she ordered, examining his arm. There was a deep gash with blood pouring out, and it looked like his forearm was bent a few inches the wrong direction. Buell didn’t respond, just kept moaning, and she didn’t know what to do.

  “Hang on, I’m going to get mom,” she said, then took off at a sprint.

  ***

  Buell wasn’t able to talk much because of the pain, and Emily couldn’t bring herself to look at his arm for long. It made her feel nauseous. Her mom had dressed it up as well as she could, but she kept telling Buell that the bone ‘had to be set.’ Emily wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but she knew it wasn’t good.

  Usually when their dad said that about one of the cows it meant it was about to be sold for slaughter. She didn’t think that was what they meant, but her rampant imagination wasn’t quite willing to overlook the possibility. They were waiting for dad to get home so they could take him to see a doctor. There was one less than twenty-five miles away, which was lucky.

  Emily left shortly after her mom showed up to check Buell’s arm; it was still bleeding, so mother had taken an old shirt and wrapped it tightly around the gash. And when Buell started screaming in pain as she wrapped his arm…well Emily just decided to be somewhere else.

  She had run off to take care of the chickens. They needed fed and she had to gather up the eggs. It was nice having busy work. Something to take her mind off the cut in her brother’s arm.

  Her father would be home soon. He worked in the town at a race track. He cleaned up after the horses and spread manure in the fields for all of the rich owners. That meant he probably worked for Mary’s father cleaning stalls.

  Once she finished with the chickens she moseyed back to Buell, not in any particular hurry. She walked through the barn, trying to ignore her brother’s screams. Nothing would happen until dad got home.

  Her father was famous around the racetrack, but not necessarily for being good at what he did. He drank a lot and was notorious for missing work; but that didn’t mean much to Emily. She was just glad when he did go to work so he wasn’t around the house. She loved her father, she just didn’t particularly like having him around.

  She gently patted a few of the horses on the necks, listened to them whinny, and then climbed up to the loft where Buell fell from. She studied the area, wondering what went wrong.

  It didn’t take long to figure it out: one of the two-by-fours along the edge had snapped. The barn was old, so the break was understandable, she just couldn’t believe how unlucky it had been.

  If the wagon hadn’t been there Buell would have hit the ground, had the wind knocked out of him, and been up and walking a few minutes later. Instead he would have to go see a doctor—a rare occurrence to be sure.

  Buell finally stopped screaming and was moaning when father’s truck finally pulled up. Emily was at the edge of the loft, sitting and watching with her arms wrapped around her knees. “Get down from there!” Emily’s mother shouted. “The last thing we need is to have to pay for another broken arm.”

  Emily didn’t reply, just went back to the ladder and climbed back down. When she made it back outside. Dad was there as well. He was shouting as Emily walked up and threw his hat on the ground, but Emily couldn’t tell what he was saying.

  Probably cursing. He liked to do that a lot.

  He walked over to the barn and Buell, anger evident on his pockmarked face, and scooped his thirteen year old son up in his arms. Emily was standing just inside the barn, unmoving and hoping her father wouldn’t notice her. She didn’t like being around him when he was like this.

  He lifted Buell up and hesitated when he noticed Emily standing in the barn entrance. “Come. I want to hear what happened.”

  “No she has work to do and—” mother started, yet when father leveled a look at her she fell silent.

  Emily was used to her parents fighting. Her mother could hold her own and was more than willing to get in violent screaming matches, but occasionally a look from her father was all it took to let her know there wasn’t going to be a debate.

  This was one of those times. He stared at her for a few more seconds and then turned back at Emily. “Come.”

  Emily didn’t dare disobey.

  ***

  The ride to the doctor’s home was quiet. She was worried that her father was going to blow a fuse. The truck jostled along the road, bouncing in each hole they passed. Every once in a while her father would grill Emily about what happened, but after a few questions he seemed satisfied that it wasn’t her fault.

  Normally she liked taking trips with her father, especially when they went to town to shop, but right now she felt more uncomfortable than anything else.

  Buell sat between them, his head lying on father’s shoulder and his hurt arm resting on Emily’s knee. Her blouse was mostly red now, as was a good portion of her bib overalls, but she didn’t mention it. Her skin itched, but she wasn’t even sure if she was willing to scratch it.

  Buell was still moaning occasionally from the pain and seemed barely coherent. She had seen him hurt himself a lot, but never like this. This was something new.

  “Stay here,” father said when they were parked. He pulled Buell out of the truck and carried him to the door. Without free hands, he kicked the base of the door and waited. Emily saw the door open and they disappeared inside.

  She waited in the truck, tapping her fingers against her knee, and tried to amuse herself by humming. She ignored the blood on her overalls and looked out the window at the expensive house, wondering what it would be like to live here.

  The doctor also served as veterinarian for the racetrack, so he’d come to their farm often to look after the horses. He had a lot of money, but he was one of the few rich people that sent his children to their school.

  That was only because his wife was their teacher though. They were the only family that drove to school every day. She was a nice woman and a good teacher, and Emily couldn’t help but wish her own life was like theirs. Then she could be Mary’s friend. Maybe.

  It was half an hour before her father reappeared at the truck and climbed inside. By now it was getting late and the sun was setting. He started the engine and pulled away from the house and onto the road.

  They drove in silence for a few minutes; her father didn’t even acknowledge her sitting next to her. But she didn’t mind: she liked the anonymity. But she was really worried about Buell. Finally, her anxiety got the better of her.

  “Is Buell going to be okay?”

  It was a full minute before he responded. “He’ll be okay,” father said, his voice quiet. He looked over at her, and she could see wetness at the corner of his eyes. “He’ll be fine.”

  Emily wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself.

  “I hope so,” Emily muttered. Her stomach growled and she realized how
long it had been since she’d eaten. The only thing she had that morning was the candy she stole from Mary, and she hadn’t had much yesterday either. She hesitated, then said: “Dad, I was invited to a friend’s—”

  “You hungry?” he interrupted. “I’m starving.”

  She nodded. “Uh huh.”

  “What were you going to tell me?”

  “One of my friends invited me to come over for dinner.”

  “Tonight?”

  “No,” Emily said, then shook her head. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

  “You don’t need to go to anyone’s house.”

  “But—”

  “No, Emily. Leave it.”

  He steered the truck off the dirt road and up to a small diner and gas station. Emily thought to object again, but to be honest she was kind of relieved. There was no point worrying about Mary’s invitation, because she didn’t have permission to go.

  “Where are we?” she asked as he parked.

  “Getting food.”

  They were going to eat out? Emily hadn’t eaten out more than a few times her entire life. She could hardly believe it.

  “This is the only restaurant I’ll eat at,” her father explained. “They have fine hamburgers.”

  She couldn’t think of a suitable reply. Her mouth was salivating, and she reached to open the door. “No, you stay here,” he said. “I’ll only be a couple of minutes.”

  She nodded and sat back in the seat. He climbed out and headed into the diner. There were no other cars in the parking lot, or on the road for that matter.

  She was starving now, and the thought of eating a hamburger sounded fantastic. She thought back to the last time she’d eaten out and couldn’t remember when it might have been. Her last meal this fancy was Christmas, and she wasn’t sure what inspired her dad to bring her here. Maybe he was feeling bad for her, for what she had to go through with Buell, or he was just trying to be nice. He wasn’t usually that nice to her. Maybe he felt bad for telling her she couldn’t go to Mary’s.

  She had no idea, and to be honest she didn’t really care.

  Ten minutes passed, then that dragged into twenty, and she began to worry. What was taking so long? She kept humming, kicking her feet against the dashboard, and finally climbed out of the truck. She decided to make sure he was okay and nothing had happened.

  She walked up to the diner and reached for the door, then hesitated. She could see through the glass window, and in the middle of the store she saw her father putting his pants back on and a woman straightening her blouse.

  Emily wasn’t dumb; she knew exactly what that meant, and she knew better than to be caught peeking. She hurried back to the truck and clambered inside. Five minutes later her father came back out with a tray of food. He smiled at her and handed her a hamburger and a bottle of soda.

  She could smell the food and couldn’t help but grin.

  “Enjoy,” he said, pulling the truck back on the road. Emily took a huge bite and savored the flavor, closing her eyes. It was amazing, and the soda was just as good and sweet. She coughed when she first sipped it, unused to the bubbles. The meal was delicious, one of the best she’d ever had, and she took her time with each bite all the way home.

  Neither of them spoke, too focused on their bounty, and Emily realized that with a full stomach the world could make sense again.

  “You know, come to think of it, maybe it would be alright for you to go to your friend’s house,” he said.

  “Really?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Just let me know when, and I’ll tell your mom. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she said, suddenly thrilled and apprehensive. She had permission, which meant now she had to find out if Mary meant it when she invited her and OC over.

  When they were close to the house her father spoke to her: “Now, I wouldn’t say anything to anyone when we get home,” he said, then casually added: “about the food…”

  Emily just nodded.

  ***

  Her mother was a little surprised when Emily said she didn’t want supper considering she had skipped the midday meal, but she didn’t press the issue. Emily went into her room and lay down on her bed, fuller than she had been in days and enjoying the relaxed feeling.

  A few hours later she heard a knock on her door and opened her eyes. She let out a big yawn, rubbing the sleep away. Her mother was standing in her doorway.

  “Uncle Vic’s here, and he brought his radio,” mother said.

  “A horse race?”

  “No, not tonight. The Kentucky Derby isn’t until next week.”

  Emily let out a sigh. If only. “The Grand Ole Opry?” she asked. It was technically called ‘The Prince Albert Show’ but everyone knew of it as the Opry.

  Mom nodded. “Come on, or you’re going to miss it.”

  Emily followed into the living room where everyone was gathered and took a seat next to her sister Janis. Her uncle was fiddling with the radio, and all they could hear was static, but after a few minutes they heard the station pick up. They listened in silence for a while, then Janis leaned over to Emily:

  “How’s Buell?” she whispered.

  “He’s going to be okay,” Emily whispered back. “That’s what dad said.”

  “Natch,” Janis said. Those were the only words anyone spoke during the entire show, and other than that the only sound was the Grand Ole Opry broadcast with Red Foley.

  Emily doubted that Janis really cared; she never really got along with Buell and only tolerated him because they were related. The show played until midnight, then went off the air and was replaced by static.

  Gradually the room returned to normal, and then they filtered out to their own rooms and beds. Normally after listening to the show, the boys would go out hunting for outhouses to tip over, but without Buell here the adventure wasn’t even offered. Janis was one of the first to go to bed, followed by her parents and cousins. Uncle Vic was the last to leave, patting Emily on the head and humming to himself.

  She went back to her room and climbed into bed. It was a quiet night after a long day. They wouldn’t have school the next day either, and there wasn’t much work around the house, so she would have a relatively free day.

  She felt tired, but didn’t think she would be able to sleep; yet when she woke up the next morning, she didn’t remember falling asleep or dreaming.

  She remembered her last thoughts to be about Mary Munro and her father and how confusing life was. Why did Mary invite her over after Emily robbed her? Did Mary actually want to be her friend? Could she be friends with Mary?

  Nothing made sense.

  It made even less sense when she woke up the next morning and went to find Olivia. Together they headed back to the same spot where they waylaid Mary the morning before and waited. She couldn’t decide if she was there to rob Mary again or ask to be her friend. Everything was just too confusing.

  But life was sweet

  1953 - Calvin Greenwood

  Unexpected Meetings

  “That was before I met her,” I say. “Before she came into my life like a whirlwind.”

  “Sounds like she had a tough life.”

  I almost laugh. Almost.

  “You have no idea.”

  “How did you guys meet?”

  “You mean like the first time I saw her?”

  “Was it love at first sight?”

  “Hell yes,” I say. The memory hits me like a sledgehammer, and I can’t help but smile. It’s bittersweet though, tinged with the despair I’ve felt since she left me.

  Since she left me.

  The words echo in my mind. If focus on the memory, pushing the pain down, biting back the despair. I focus on the memory.

  I remember it like it was yesterday. The first moment I saw her, I knew just how important she was. Just how important she would be in my life.

  “I was working at the barn, back then…”

  ***

  Calvin liked this horse a lot. Sebastian’s Way. He w
as a laid back, easy going gelding, but one who still liked to run. Nothing like the other horse he was looking after, Faraway Bay. Whenever he led Faraway Bay on a cooldown walk like this, he would have to loop the lead-rope around his hand in case the powerful animal tried to jerk away. Faraway Bay was a jumpy horse, high strung and energetic, and Calvin would inevitably end his day with burns on his hands and exhausted from fighting.

  But Sebastian’s Way was always calm and relaxed. Set off a firecracker by his head and he’d just keep munching that blue-green grass.

  Calvin patted the horse’s’ slick neck, feeling the corded muscles tense and contract as the horse chewed. His hand came away wet with sweat and water and covered with short brown shedded hairs from the workout twenty or so minutes ago, but Calvin didn’t mind. Being dirty—earthy, he liked to call it—was a fact of life when working with horses. He brushed his hand off on his pants and tugged on the lead rope, guiding the gelding further from the barn.

  The track was quiet this time of night. The sun was setting and it would be dark soon. All of the horses were tucked away, getting cleaned up and fed before the workers turned in for the night. Tomorrow morning they would thunder around the racetrack again, but for now it was peaceful. Calvin watched the clouds pass by overhead, tinged yellow and red by the setting autumn sun.

  “Hey daddy-O, you putting him away anytime tonight?”

  The voice startled Calvin. He spun quickly, bumping Sebastian’s Way. The horse snorted, sidestepped, and lowered his mouth back to the grass below. Frankie Grove was standing there, not ten feet away, with a smirk on his face. He was skinny, a lot skinnier than Calvin, and always dirty. Calvin hadn’t heard him approach.

  “In a bit,” Calvin said. “Just wanted to walk him a bit and let him eat some grass.”

  “Well if you let him keep going like he is, he’ll weigh six thousand pounds in a week. You going to the bash?”

  “Where?”

  “Out,” Frankie reiterated. “Got paid today, and the money is starting to burn my pockets.”