Fields of Home

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  “Well, it might depend on how broken the arm is. If it was out of place, it’d have to go back in before it could be fixed.”

  “But people would be really strong, almost like cyborgs, so they probably wouldn’t get hurt much.”

  Brandon thought a moment. He remembered reading about engineering super humans, especially in regard to futuristic soldiers. The idea was both frightening and exciting. “Okay, think of this. Someone needs to put all those nanobots in the people, program them and so forth, and invent new ones. Then there would likely be some diseases that even nanocites couldn’t cure.”

  “Well, I guess so. But anyway, I think there will be a lot of people not wanting anything to do with it. They’re too afraid of the gray goo.”

  “Gray goo?” Brandon’s horse stepped into a depression, and he was knocked off balance, falling forward over his saddle horn. He struggled to right himself before Darrel noticed. While the child was as at ease in the saddle as he was on his own two feet, Brandon’s backside was already throbbing with pain.

  “Well, this is how it would work,” Darrel began. “There would be nanofactories where things would be built. You’d have certain codes or programs that would tell the nanocites what to make. They could be programmed to make anything. Anything. Like a space rocket. Only it wouldn’t be made of pieces welded together. It would be one piece—seamless. You could make anything. Or even program it to change its shape to whatever you needed.”

  “Seems rather impossible.”

  “Yeah, but no one has proven scientifically that it can’t work,” Darrel said, “so I think that means it will—eventually.”

  “And the gray goo?”

  “Well, some people think terrorists might be able to use the nanocites as a weapon to create a goo that would be self-replicating and would spread throughout the world using up all the resources.”

  “And that couldn’t happen?”

  “Only if someone did it on purpose. That’s why the government needs to make rules about nanotechology now before we really get into it.”

  “Did you know that nanotech is already used in a lot of stuff?” Brandon asked. “Mostly to make really small things for computers and such.”

  “Yeah, but the kind I’m really interested in is molecular nanotechnolgy. That’s the kind that could make self-cleaning dishes, or change someone’s whole face. Could you imagine that?”

  Brandon grinned. Other twelve-year-olds he’d met couldn’t even say the words molecular nanotechnology, much less understand what they meant. “That might not be all that good. Think of all the movie star look-alikes we’d have around.”

  “You can say that again.” Darrel smiled back at him.

  “Isn’t there anyone you’ve ever wanted to look like?”

  “No, just myself.” Darrel glanced over to where Wayne had galloped after a stray steer. “Well, sometimes I’d like to have really bright red hair like my dad used to have. And I wouldn’t mind being tall like you.”

  “I’m only regular height. About the same as Wayne—your dad.” Brandon experienced a sour taste at the words.

  “Yeah, I guess. You probably just look taller ’cuz you’re skinny. Like me.”

  That much was true. Wayne’s muscles had been built up by years of hard physical labor; the only exercise Brandon’s body received was what he managed to work in at the gym. Brandon wouldn’t stand a chance in an arm wrestle with Wayne. Did Mercedes like to feel Wayne’s strong arms around her? Brandon didn’t know where the thought came from, but he pushed it away.

  “A lot of guys don’t come into their height until sixteen, eighteen, and even twenty,” he told Darrel. “And that’s me talking as a doctor. I’ve seen it time and time again. You’ll shoot up in a few years. Both your parents are tall.”

  “Well, it’s not fair ’cuz all the girls are taller than us guys. But at least we’re stronger.” Darrel held up his wiry arms.

  “That’s because of hormones, you know. So’s the growing taller.” Brandon launched into an explanation, surprised that Darrel actually listened and asked intelligent questions. He was a good kid, and smart, and again Brandon felt a swell of pride that he knew he had no right to feel.

  “Hey, Dad’s calling us.” Darrel turned his horse and galloped toward Wayne, who was motioning for them. Brandon hurried to catch up. His backside was on fire, and they’d only been out here a little over an hour.

  “I think this is good,” Wayne said. “There’s enough new grass here to keep them for a while. But we’ll need to fill the water troughs. The stream doesn’t pass by these fields,” he added for Brandon’s benefit.

  “I’ll do it!” Darrel was off his horse in an instant, running toward two huge troughs that stood by the fence.

  Wayne watched him go, an indulgent expression on his face. “He likes operating the well. He helped me dig it a few years back, so it’s kind of his baby.”

  “I don’t see a well.” Brandon scanned the area. Darrel was kneeling between the two troughs, doing something on the ground.

  “It’s in the ground there. Rigged up with a pump and a hose. The pump’s only needed for a bit—the pressure actually brings up the water. Slowly, but it works.” They fell quiet for a moment as they watched Darrel drink from the short hose before putting into the trough.

  “He sure knows a lot about nanotechnolgy,” Brandon said. “More than I do.”

  Wayne’s ruddy, weathered face cracked into a slightly lopsided grin. “I bet you’ve heard more about that today than you ever thought you’d hear from any kid.”

  “Where’d he learn it all? Don’t tell me it’s in the regular sixth-grade curriculum.”

  “We read a lot. I do my best to keep his mind filled.” The smile left Wayne’s face. “He doesn’t belong here. He doesn’t know it yet, but Mercedes and I do. For the future, I mean. So we’re preparing him. We want to make sure he has the world to choose from.”

  This was news to Brandon. Mercedes had given him the impression that Darrel was happy here. Or maybe he’d jumped to that conclusion himself. “You don’t want him to stay on the farm?”

  “Want?” Wayne arched a white brow. “More than anything I want Darrel to be happy, and the farm won’t give him that forever. One of his brothers, maybe, and Darrel will always want to come back to visit, but his mind—” Wayne shook his head. “He needs more. So we try to make those opportunities available, regardless of the cost.”

  “You’ve done well with him,” Brandon admitted reluctantly. How much easier this would be if he’d found Darrel’s education lacking or his curiosity stifled. But then, Mercedes had endured too much of that as a child. She would never allow her children’s minds to suffer.

  “Nanotechnology,” Wayne said. “Self-cleaning houses, soldiers who are never weary. Stuff of science fiction, it seems. But who knows? I’ve seen a lot of changes in the past fifty years. Darrel will see much more.”

  “Maybe he’ll be a part of it.”

  “Probably.” Wayne took a deep breath before letting out a slight chuckle. “Of course, I don’t know how long this nanotech stuff will last. Last year he was into geology, and before that medicine.”

  “Medicine?” Brandon couldn’t help but feel pleased.

  Wayne nodded. “He’s like his mother. Has a lot of interests. Do you know she used to build houses?”

  Brandon’s chest began to ache, as though something vital had been taken from him. He’d never met a woman who knew so much about everything.

  And now she lived on a farm.

  Wayne didn’t wait for an answer. “Eventually he’ll find his place and settle on it. Meanwhile, we’ll keep giving him the information he craves—and we’ll all learn a thing or two along the way.” Wayne’s smile was back. “I think he’s heading toward rocket science now. He wants to go to space camp.”

  “I’ll pay for it,” Brandon said without thinking.

  For the space of five heartbeats, Wayne didn’t respond, and then he said with
more grace than Brandon knew he’d have shown in the same position, “Thanks for the offer, but I think we’ll be able to swing it.”

  “Dad!” came Darrel’s excited voice. “Look! An eagle.” Darrel was pointing to the sky. “Can we follow it for a while? Maybe we can get a peek at where it has its nest.”

  Wayne looked at his watch. “Sure, son. But don’t forget we have the north field to plant. We’ve got to finish the spring wheat by next week. It looks like rain in a few hours, so we won’t have as much time as we’d like.”

  “Wa-hoo!” shouted Darrel, as he ran toward them. “I’m for sure going to find that nest!”

  Brandon looked into the blue sky, where there was no trace of a cloud. “It doesn’t look like rain.”

  Wayne gave him an easy, confident smile. “No, but it’s coming all the same. Just a good warm wash, probably about ten or fifteen minutes is all, and after it’ll be perfect timing to spray one of our wheat fields that’s having a bit of trouble.”

  “Bugs?”

  “Maybe.”

  “We can’t see anything yet,” Darrel explained as he mounted his horse, “but if Dad says they’re there, they are. He just knows.” He laughed. “I’ve been trying to learn how he does it, but it doesn’t make sense. Don’t even try to understand.” With an admiring look at Wayne, Darrel started his horse after the eagle that was still flying high in the air.

  Brandon knew this detour would likely mean working late for Wayne, but he also felt that whether or not he had been there, Wayne’s response would have been the same. Wayne seemed to be the father Brandon had wished for himself. If his own father had been like Wayne, caring more about his son’s happiness than prestige or appearances, Brandon just might have been the one teaching Darrel about rocket science.

  Chapter 8

  Diary of Mercedes Walker

  August 13, 1994

  Brandon and I went riding today for the first time. He is hilariously bad on a horse. But so cute, too. I hope I can teach him to ride without looking so funny. I plan to have horses wherever we end up, though it might be challenging in a city. Hmm, I’ll have to think about that. Maybe we won’t live in a city after all. It doesn’t really matter as long as we’re together.

  Mercedes gave Windwalker a final loving pat and left the barn. Thunder followed her, watching her carefully, her own silent guardian. He’d whined when Mercedes had ridden off with Brandon half an hour before, as though worried she wouldn’t return. Of course, she had, and Thunder had been waiting for her.

  She had experienced a mixture of emotions as she led Brandon out to the fields, as though time had been turned backward somehow. After all these years Brandon looked even more out of place on a horse. His feet stuck out awkwardly, and his back tilted at an odd angle. By contrast, she’d grown up in the saddle and was as comfortable riding as she was on her feet. Sometimes more so. On a horse she had power. She had the ability to get away fast to a place where she couldn’t hear her father’s derogatory words. The sting of the wind hitting her face was far more pleasant than his hand. She’d tried to explain, but Brandon had never understood her love of the animals. He’d never even seen a horse up close until he met her.

  “Who’d imagine I’d end up in Hickville riding a horse,” he said with a laugh. It was their first ride together on horseback, and Mercedes was glad to have him alone, away from his hospital friends.

  “You wouldn’t be here if your father hadn’t known Dr. Clark.” She shivered at the thought of never having met Brandon.

  “Well, that’s true, and to give my old man credit, Dr. Clark is exceptional. I’m glad to learn from him.”

  She lifted her face to the sun and laughed. “Even in Hickville?”

  “Especially in Hickville—if that’s where you are.” He tried to urge his horse closer, but all he managed was to make it move away. “Help! Where are the brakes? Or the steering wheel, for that matter?”

  Mercedes caught up to him. “What were you saying?” She leaned close.

  “I’m saying that I don’t care where I am as long as I’m with you.” He kissed her, and Mercedes felt happiness explode inside. This was her future; she felt it with every sense she possessed.

  “Race you,” she said after a long moment. With a clicking sound and forward movement, she urged her horse into a gallop.

  Brandon’s horse followed quickly, with Brandon gripping the saddle so he wouldn’t fall off. “I’ll get you for this!” he called. “You wait and see.”

  Mercedes couldn’t wait.

  The memory faded. She’d been so sure about her future that summer and where they were headed. Was love really so blind? Why did she not see signs of his upcoming betrayal? They seemed so obvious to her now. He hadn’t made a firm commitment, he hadn’t introduced her to his parents when they’d come through town, and he had left without promising to return. He had given her nothing solid to hold onto. Nothing that had any substance.

  Except Darrel, and he hadn’t meant to do that.

  What was Brandon doing with Wayne and Darrel now? She couldn’t help wondering. Would Brandon keep his word about not telling Darrel the truth? Had he challenged Wayne or said something to offend him? If so, Wayne would keep his cool, but she hated to put him through this torture. Probably everything was going well, though by the poor manner in which Brandon sat his horse, he might have been thrown by now. She smiled at the thought. Serve him right.

  Of course, if an accident were to happen to Brandon, a serious accident, it would only mean that Darrel would be safe. With a disgusted snort at this thought, Mercedes hurried up the porch stairs. She had bills to take care of and lunch to make before her weekly shopping trip.

  Thunder barked a brief greeting to his mate, who was on the back porch with the younger boys and her one remaining puppy. All the others had gone to good homes nearby, but Di didn’t seem to notice. Joseph and Scott and the puppy seemed to be enough young things to look after.

  “Chores done, boys?” Mercedes asked.

  “Yeah,” her sons chorused.

  “Even the weeding?” She could see by their faces they’d forgotten. “Get to it. We may need to go out and help Dad with the planting later.”

  “I wish we could’ve helped move the cattle,” Joseph complained. “Darrel gets to do everything.”

  “That’s because he’s older. But don’t worry, you’re nearly ten, and that’s when he started.”

  “Cool!” Joseph jumped off the deck.

  “No fair. I wish I was going to be ten.” Scott jumped off and fell on his face. When Joseph laughed, Scott tackled him, and they wrestled on the ground. Scott held his own pretty well, but Mercedes saw that Joseph was careful not to hurt his little brother, just as Darrel had been careful not to hurt him.

  “Boys, the weeding.” She gestured to the garden. “Getting out those weeds means bigger peas. They’ll be ready to eat soon.” They loved fresh, raw peas so much that she could always inspire them to work by reminding them how good they tasted.

  “Can we go to the swimming hole today?” Joseph asked.

  “We’ll see. Maybe for an hour after lunch. It looks like it’ll get warm enough.” Warm enough for them, not for her. But maybe she could read a book or work on the unfinished quilt she still thought of as Brandon’s. She had a portable frame her neighbor had made her, about the length of her arm, that resembled a square embroidery hoop. If she took extra care, it worked well enough to hold the small areas taut as she made the tiny stitches by hand. It was a simple pattern, and she had already managed to finish a third of it over the past few days.

  The boys headed to the garden, and Mercedes paused in the doorway to watch them wrestle each other to the grass again. There was something so constant about their friendship and the concept of family that for a moment she felt rooted to the spot. These two boys were all hers. Hers to love, to teach, to spoil, to discipline. At least until they grew up. Even then, they wouldn’t go far. Not like Darrel. Not like her brother, Austin,
whom she still sometimes ached for so terribly it was like missing an arm.

  Mercedes went to the room she kept for Austin. They’d moved the computer in there only recently, since Austin and his wife, Liana, had cleaned out all the boxes of records from their grandmother’s charity. When she’d passed away two years ago, she had left the charity to Austin, but he’d been so occupied with work of late that Liana had mostly taken it over, aided by employees in Ukraine where most of the charity’s work took place in overcrowded orphanages.

  The room had been Austin’s for years, and every time she entered it, she was forcefully hit by his presence. Mercedes picked up a corner of the quilt she had made for the bed. It smelled faintly of musk and detergent.

  Smiling at her sentimentality, she switched on the computer and brought up the accounting program Liana had installed eight months earlier. An accountant by profession, she had promised Mercedes that the computer would simplify the farm finances. Since her sister-in-law had also set it all up, Mercedes had nothing to lose, and it remained the best thing they’d done since getting the Internet.

  The bills this week were simple. Payment for the new tractor—higher really than she’d hoped they’d be paying, but the old tractor had given out last year—and payment for the seed Wayne was planting. Utilities were the least of the bunch. She set aside a few dollars for Darrel’s space camp and calculated what she had left for groceries. They had plenty of meat in the freezer and grain she could grind into flour. In the summer, she’d have fresh produce from her garden and might be able to skip the store visit altogether. Living on a farm had advantages. But that payment for the tractor worried her. If some of the other equipment were to break, or if the crops failed, or if the cattle contracted a sickness, they’d have to use the tiny savings she’d managed to put together over the years, and then what would happen to them when it was time for Wayne to retire? She couldn’t think about selling the farm; she might as well give up a child.

  As she was finishing, the phone rang.