But now, faced with the choice, he thought he could make one pretty decidedly, and be rather happy with it.
For that matter, now that he understood the source of all his unhappiness, he could take steps to correct it all. He lived and worked on a farm by compulsion, by the sense of duty that bound him to his family. He still had a duty to them, but he could choose in what way to fulfill that duty.
Maybe it was the rush from kissing such a pretty, graceful girl. Maybe it was the relief that he’d been right in insisting that Mama didn’t want to live again. Maybe it was the adrenaline from falling more than a thousand feet without dying. It could have been any number of things, but in that moment, Thomas made a decision, and his perspective regarding his family changed. His perspective regarding everything shifted.
He wanted to farm, but he couldn’t head east. Not now that he provided the protection for the entire nation—of his own free will. No, he had to stay. He could stay on the Baker farm, but that wasn’t his. So far, he’d stayed there out of obligation to his family.
Well, now he would get his own land somewhere near Sanctuary. Not inside Sanctuary, because Miss Sadie couldn’t be inside the barrier. But nearby, certainly. And there he could build his own farm.
He would invite Franky to join him, because Franky pulled his own weight as long as he had instructions. He would also invite the rest of his family on the conditions that they did their part and worked. That way, it could be their choice. If they chose to live on his farm, they would have to work. Even his Papa. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to work up a sweat, but there were things he could do that wouldn’t cause him to sweat.
And Charles—if he didn’t work, he didn’t reap the benefits of Thomas’s work. He was a man, now. Nineteen. He needed to take responsibility for himself. Clara May and Eli—if they were to wed, they needed to provide for themselves. They could live on Thomas’s farm if they wanted, until they got their feet under them, but while they lived there, they would have to help, too.
The kiss with Miss Sadie kept going and going. Her lips felt nice against his. Soft. Warm.
His vision for his future wasn’t much different than the situation he’d always lived in. But he did recognize the difference: all his life he’d been forced into his situation. But if he could choose it, and could set the conditions, he could live with it. Miss Sadie had been right about that. He wanted nothing more than to make his own choices, and live a life of his own design.
Well, he could do that and still meet his obligations to his family and country. But his family would have to fulfill their duty, as well. He didn’t have to take care of any people that didn’t pull their own weight.
Feeling like a new person, Thomas disengaged from the kiss. She smiled at him, not in the least bit shy. The way she cocked an eyebrow and lifted one corner of her mouth did make her look just a little sly—but gracefully so.
“Thomas Baker,” she said, “I do believe that you’ve kissed a few girls in your day. That wasn’t the kiss of a boy who’s never kissed a girl.”
“Well,” he said, returning her smile, “you would have no way of knowing that unless you’d kissed your fair share of boys.”
She threw her head back and laughed, and squeezed his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her. They already stood close to each other beneath the dirt, their torsos touching, but putting his arms around her felt like the perfect thing to do.
“Should we try to get out?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I’m rather enjoying this the way it is.”
She laughed and ran a hand over the surface of the dirt. It looked freshly plowed.
“I don’t think we could get out if we wanted, anyway. Someone is going to have to pull us out.”
He didn’t know that her statement was true, but he was willing to go with it if it meant being near her longer. Hopefully no buried part of him would itch too badly.
At that thought, his stomach began to itch. He tried to wiggle his body, to scratch it with the dirt that pressed all around him. Instead, his body just moved against Miss Sadie’s.
“Thomas Baker,” she said, “what on earth are you doing? It seems mighty inappropriate.”
He raised his eyebrows and said nothing. Much to his surprise, she blushed and looked away. She looked so pretty in that moment, so coy, that he wanted to take her and marry her right then. He nearly said so, too, but stopped as he realized that he had no idea if she felt that way toward him.
A sick uncertainty filled his belly. The confidence he’d felt in the last few minutes diminished, and he felt again like a fifteen-year-old mooning after a pretty girl that he’d never talked with.
She was a high-class girl. A rich girl. Would she take interest in him, a poor farm boy? Could she marry someone like him?
The question, while unsettling, also thrilled him, presented him with a challenge. If she didn’t feel that way toward him now, he was sure willing to try and incite those emotions in her.
“What’s the matter?” she said.
He started. “What?”
“You look extremely upset about something.”
There was no time like the present to take on the challenge. His mouth seemed to dry in an instant, but he kept his eyes locked with hers.
“I was just wondering if a rich Moabite girl like you could ever take interest in a poor farm boy like me.”
She didn’t look away. Her tone teased him.
“I suppose it’s possible. But her Papa would have to approve.”
He laughed, and so did she, and suddenly something that she’d said up on top of the landing came back to him. It had almost slipped by him at the time, because of the stress, but now he remembered it with clarity.
“Mr. Milne. He's your papa.”
“I’m surprised you never figured it out.”
Thomas frowned at her. Enough things had happened in the last thirty minutes that he’d numbed to the shock of this particular news. He just didn’t understand how it could be true.
She sighed, as if seeing she needed to give an explanation.
“He’s originally from Monument Valley. He and my mother were lovers for a short time, after my mother had left the Lich Mayor. She had endless second-life days, and the Lich Mayor tricked her into giving them all to him—thus making him the Lich Mayor. Before that he was just the mayor.”
Thomas nodded. He’d heard stories about how the Lich Mayor had gained his power. Apparently the stories had gotten some of it right.
“While she was gone, living in Monument Valley, she met Mr. Milne. They fell in love, and I am the result. When the Lich Mayor invaded Monument Valley, he found my mother pregnant with me, and my papa—Mr. Milne—fled to Sanctuary. That must be when he learned the barrier spell. The Lich Mayor tried to kill my papa, but he escaped. The Lich Mayor loves my mother enough to forgive her, and he raised me as his own.” A dark expression crossed her face. “Well, he raised me as a tool for himself. That’s all anyone is to him. A tool. That’s all the zombies are. Just tools for his own ends.” She frowned and shook her head. “Well, he has to be stopped. And I’m going to do it.”
He laughed at her sudden seriousness—it seemed so extreme.
“Well, not today, you’re not.”
She raised her eyebrows, and the look silenced his amusement.
“Not today, but sometime soon. You’ll see.”
He shrugged and pulled her back close, again. She let him, and put her arms back around him.
“And he’s okay?” Thomas said. “Mr. Milne?”
“He should be. The spell that Brady cast would only have killed him if it hit him in the face. He should be recovered, soon. I suppose they’ll come down and find us. They can dig us out.”
Thomas hoped they took their time.
They stood there in the dirt for a while in silence. Thomas had so many questions and so few answers. Finally, she spoke.
“I’m sorry about Stanley.”
A pang of sadness came to
him. He missed the dog, already.
“He was a stupid dog, but a good one. But it was necessary.”
“And I’m sorry about your mother.”
Strangely, although he felt some sadness at knowing he would never see her again, the predominant emotion was the opposite. It was peace. In the end, he and she had seen eye to eye, and that was all that mattered.
“Well, she’s glad to be gone.”
“Are you glad she’s gone?”
He didn’t answer for a long time as he thought it over.
“In many ways, yes. In some ways, no. I’ll miss her, and I’ll miss what might have been between us after she saw her life and understood what mistakes she’d made. And I imagine I understand her better, now, knowing what I do about her. It seemed we finally understood each other.”
She didn’t respond, and he didn’t press the issue. So they just stood there in the dirt, in silence, with their arms around each other.
At least, for a little while.
When everyone else found them, their lips had been locked for quite some time.
A note from the author
Thank you for purchasing and reading this book. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it. If you did, it would please me to no end if you would review it on Amazon. Reviews help drive sales, and sales drive me to write faster and better.
As you read Keep Mama Dead, you may have noticed some historical inaccuracies. If not . . . well, that’s great! If you did, hopefully they didn’t annoy you to the point of discraction. Please rest assured that I’m aware of them, and took the liberty to alter history and geography as I saw fit. After all, It is a work of fiction, and a fantasy at that.
It would flatter me if you stopped by my website, www.sjamesnelson.com, to take a look around. I’ve got other books in progress, and you can read snippets of them on the site. You can also send me an email with the “Drop me a line” link.
Also, in case you haven’t read it, I have another book available on Amazon.com. It’s a full on fantasy novel, set in its own world. It’s tailored to the same crowd as books like the Wheel of Time, Runelords, and Mistborn. If you like fantasy, please take a look at it. It’s called “The Demigod Proving.”
Once again, I am indeed grateful that you purchased and read my book. As I’ve said before, your readership and enjoyment is what I’ve wanted since I was a kid.
Best,
S. James Nelson
Acknowledgements
As with any novel, many people helped in the creation of this book. While much of the work is done in solitude, the feedback of many help shape and direct it.
First of all, Arthur Nelson, the cover designer, deserves thanks. He’s really not getting paid much. If he is paid by the hour, I reckon he’s making pennies. But your purchasing the book helps him out, since he gets a portion of the proceeds of each book. He did a bang-up job on this cover, and spent a great deal of time on the art work. If anyone out there needs a book cover designed, shoot him an email at [email protected].
I also need to thank my online writing group, the Rough Writers. Nate Cassani. Luisa Perkins. Lee Ann Setzer. Frank Morin. Jennifer McBride. I appreciate your help on Keep Mama Dead, and always enjoy reading your work, too.
Other readers helped. Julie Mangan. Dixie Nelson (my mother, who--just for the record--I would not want to keep dead). Zachary Nelson. Gary Bartholomew. Arthur Nelson. Mr. Robb. Thank you for your feedback on Keep Mama Dead.
A special thanks to David Farland and Kevin J. Anderson--both outstanding people. Dave has helped me in many ways, directly and indirectly on this book. Kevin, while he did not help on this book, gave me much-needed encouragement and support on The Demigod Proving. He’s proven himself to be in a class well above the great majority of writers. If you’re a writer, I encourage you to attend the Superstars Writing Seminar, organized by Kevin and his wife, Rebecca Moesta. It’s a fantastic conference, well worth any expense to attend.
And, finally, I must thank my wife. This book is dedicated to her, and I sincerely mean that dedication. I have no idea why you love me so much, and why you’re so dedicated to me. But I love it. I cherish it. I live for it. Thank you for your undying support. Without it, I truly could do nothing.
By the way, did I mention I’d like you to visit my website?
www.sjamesnelson.com
Or leave a review of the book on Amazon.com?
Keep Mama Dead Page 33
