The New Season

            After my initial disclosure to grandma and mom and receiving that warm grandma hug I gained even more confidence to expand my circle. I took mom and grandma downstairs and showed them everything I had stockpiled.  Grandma was impressed.  Mom was a little worried at the cost but grandma just waved her hand at her.

            “You’ve been busy,” grandma said.

            I smiled.  “You have no idea.”  I took a deep breath because I knew the time had come to show someone my shed in the back.  I almost didn’t want to because it had been my private place for so long.  But I knew I needed to do this to truly expand my circle. 

            I led them back up the stairs.  Even though it was technically winter we just needed light jackets outside which we were still getting used to.  They followed me through the backyard.  We walked the little pathway to the back of the garage.  I showed them how to get through my wall of dry weeds I had set up as a barrier and then we stepped into the little clearing with the shed.  Of course, they knew about the shed but it had been a while since either of them were back there.  Mom took note of the hole I had dug for fuel storage and raised her eyebrows. 

“Storage,” is all I said and shrugged my shoulders. 

Grandma’s face broke into a delighted smile and she clapped her hands together when she saw my garden of onions and carrots.  They walked around a little bit inspecting my work.  I had spent so much time working in the area that the whole ground around the shed was clear of weeds and obviously a place often visited.

            They looked at each other as I opened the padlock on the shed door and opened it. I didn’t tell them what was inside but gestured for them to step in.  They slowly did and to say they were surprised is a bit of an understatement.

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Autumn

            I truly became hyper-focused on my little covert well project.  I mean, how could I possibly ignore working on it when I spent so much time thinking about it?  Doing some kind of action was the only time my racing thoughts slowed down. Which means that despite the near crippling heat, I continued to work on my hidden well.  So much so, that when I finally drew my first little bit of water out, I had mixed feelings.  Sure, I was elated my hard work had given me a feat and that I – me of all people – constructed something that worked.  And I did it by following some diagrams and watching a few YouTube videos.  But a part of me felt a tinge of disappointment because now what would I focus on?  Also, there was the fact that since I had been so successful in hiding my efforts, there was not one person to share my accomplishment with. I thought of Stuart again and felt a new wave of guilt that I lied to him at that last meeting.  I should probably let him know what I had accomplished because of his guidance. 

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Summer

            I didn’t understand a lot of Stuart’s handouts he gave me but I found a couple helpful.  One had a simple diagram of what a backyard well should look like and a list of tools I needed.  For tools, I knew the first place to look: my grandparent’s shed.  It was at the back of their property behind the garage and fairly hidden from the growth of trees.  There was an old alley that was hardly accessed on the other side of the fence which opened up to some undeveloped area on the other side.  We always referred to this as “grandma’s desert” and I used to play there when I was younger.  I could drive down the alley and park my truck, and climb over the old chain link fence to get to the shed.  That way, I could avoid both my grandma and my mom who lived with her and wouldn’t have to explain to anyone why I was interested in the shed.  Or get a fresh round of mocking. I assumed my grandma hadn’t been to this side of her property since grandpa died.  The lock was rusted so I picked up a large rock and broke it.  As I was rummaging through what was left of tools, I realized this would make an excellent cover for a well.  On my first visit, I tore up the floor and threw any unnecessary tools into the back of my truck to make room inside the shed that was about to become a well.

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Home for Thanksgiving

            The next morning, Chance sat on the edge of his bed. He had taken the sheets off and put them in a pile on the floor.  His bag was packed and he was ready for Andy to take him to the Child Services. 

            To his great surprise, it wasn’t Andy that came down it was Marabeth.  To add to his shock, she invited him to stay with them for a while.  The Lucas-Simpsons would become his foster family if that was all right with him.  He assured her it was all right with him.  The rest of the day he felt like he was in some kind of alternate universe or something.  This could not be happening to him.  Especially after getting JJ in a fight last night.  He didn’t take Marabeth or Andy to be the joking kind and if this was a joke it was cruel.  But neither one said it was a joke.  In fact, the next day, Marabeth took him to the school to register.

            Even after he started school a week later, he waited for the other shoe to drop.  One week became two which became a month.  And that shoe never dropped. He exceled in all his courses except public speaking.  That was his lowest grade with a steady B.

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More Trouble

            Marabeth didn’t exactly sleep well that night.  She tossed and turned for most of it until her body overcome with exhaustion finally fell into a deep sleep.  Andy, however, other than wakening slightly with his wife’s movements, slept annoyingly well.  He was already out of bed when Marabeth woke up to the smell of bacon cooking.  That seemed unusual for their household even on a Saturday so she made her way slowly to the kitchen.  When she walked in, she saw Chance with a spatula in hand standing at the stove while Andy sat on a stool at the island talking to him.

            She didn’t catch the whole conversation but she heard Chance say he didn’t want to find his mom before Andy saw her standing at the doorway.  “Morning,” he said.  “Chance is fixing us some breakfast this morning,” he stood up to get another plate.

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Chapter II: Two Letters

July 10, 1941

Greetings Private Romero,

Oh, that sounds so formal, doesn’t it?  I’d rather just call you Pete.  It seems rather silly of me to be writing this so soon after we said goodbye on my front step but I want you to be among the first to get mail when you arrive at the base.  So, after we said our farewell, I ran up to my room and grabbed a pen and paper to write this note. 

            I don’t want you to think I am the kind of girl that does this often.  No sir, let me assure you, I will only write to one soldier at a time and that soldier is you.  I’m sure Ruth will have something to say about that but she isn’t home yet anyway.  Besides, considering her behavior lately, I’m not sure I give a flying fig what she thinks.  Sorry if that sounded a little harsh. Sometimes I get a little tired being the buffer between her and dad.  You know what happens to a buffer?  It gets worn out, that’s what!

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Chapter V – First Kiss 2.0

            While Gus changed from his work clothes and got ready for bed, Kristina worked quickly to get what she needed for her plan.  It wasn’t that elaborate.  All she needed was a paper bag and a black marker.

            When he finished getting ready, he walked out to the living room to join her.  He was looking at his phone’s screen and sat down on the couch next to her.  “Sleepy punch?” He questioned teasingly.

            “That’s all she needs to know right now.”

            He looked at her.  “At some point, she’s going to figure out the truth.”

            Kristina thought about it and nodded.  “I know.  I’ll tell her the truth some day.  When she’s about 50.  Or maybe she can read about it in my journal when I’m dead.”

            “You don’t keep a journal,” he said.

            “Guess she’ll never hear it from me then,” Kristina replied.

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