Uncharted Hope

by Keely Brooke Keith

She waited for him to expound and let the silence hang in the air. His foot shaking resumed its hummingbird-like speed. Why was it so difficult to get a man to talk, even when he had asked for conversation? Maybe spending all of his time with sheep had reduced his ability to communicate with humans. Or perhaps she’d been asking the wrong questions. She wouldn’t have wanted to talk about her family either. “Where else have you lived in the Land… other than growing up at Falls Creek and moving to Good Springs?”

  James eyed her for a moment. “Southpoint.”

  “What did you do in Southpoint?”

  “I met up with my older brother, Revel, there a few years back. He was working at a sheep farm and got me a job there too. He left a month later and wanted me to leave with him.”

  “Did you?”

  “No, I liked the work and the people who owned the place were good to me.”

  While he talked, his foot shook less. She reached for her journal and opened it to write her observations. He went silent as she wrote. Soon, his foot began to shake again. She probed, hoping he would continue talking. “Why did Revel leave Southpoint?”

  “He doesn’t stay anywhere long. He visited me last year and mentioned the job at the Foster farm. That’s how I ended up here. I wouldn’t have left the farm in Southpoint,” pain filled his voice and his foot stilled completely, “but I had to get away from that place.”

  Sophia knew the feeling. Her shoulders tightened. “What happened?”

  James glanced at her without moving his head then his focus returned to the ceiling. “A girl broke my heart.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It was my fault. I’d fallen in love with her about as hard as Nicholas has fallen for you. I thought we had a future together. She led me to believe she loved me too. Then she said a shepherd wasn’t good enough to marry.”

  Sophia picked at the pleats in her skirt. “I didn’t know Nicholas had fallen in love with me.”

  He turned his face toward her. “Now you do. Don’t toy with him.”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “Forget I said it.” He raised a bandaged hand in resignation. “I didn’t mean to talk about Nicholas and you. It just sort of slipped out.”

  Nicholas and her? She hadn’t heard their names laced together before. Apparently on the Foster farm, the men spoke of them as a unit. Sophia tried to shrug it off. “What is your brother like?”

  “Revel? He’s coming to the wedding. You’ll get to know him soon, if you haven’t met him before. Probably have.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Revel knows everyone. He makes friends fast, then leaves.” Fatigue gave James’s suddenly rapid words a hint of a slur. “I’m half hoping he finds a reason to settle down here, so I can have him around. He’s my brother. Good company, you know? I miss him. Am I talking too much?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I feel like I’m talking too much.”

  “It’s all right, really.”

  He hummed then rolled to his side, facing her. “Must be the gray leaf medicine. I despise that tea.”

  “Don’t think about the gray leaf. The talking is helping you relax.” She leaned forward. “Why did you say you only half hope Revel will stay in Good Springs?”

  James stared blankly as if his thoughts were caught in some far off place. “He belongs at Falls Creek. They need him at the inn. When I was fourteen, our mother left to take care of our grandparents in Stone Hill. She had no intentions of returning. We didn’t know that then.”

  James’s intonation began to relax, making him sound like the poet she imagined a shepherd to be. She’d never imagined Nicholas that way because she’d never thought much about Nicholas at all. Maybe she should. He’d saved a man’s life tonight, and she’d dismissed him.

  James went on to tell her about his family and upbringing and mostly talked about his brother, Revel. While Sophia listened, she thanked God they had been able to get James to drink the gray leaf tea and wondered how they would have given the medicine to him if he had remained unconscious. She made a note to ask Lydia.

  As James talked, the tension slowly left his voice. “Our two sisters help my father and the manager at the inn. Father is getting on in years now. Revel is supposed to inherit the inn. I’m hoping John Colburn can talk him into going back. Sort of. I would like it if Revel wanted to stay here though. I shouldn’t be saying all of this, should I?”

  “It doesn’t bother me.”

  “You’re very kind. I can see why Nicholas is so fond of you. He cares about you a great deal.”

  “Heavens, why? He hardly knows me.”

  “He knows he’s in love with you. Sometimes that’s all a man has to know and the heart takes it from there.” The lines in his forehead deepened. “Did I say that out loud?”

  Sophia swallowed a laugh. “Yes.”

  “Probably shouldn’t have.” He rubbed his face with the back of his wrist. “I told you the gray leaf tea would make me crazy. Forgive me. First I’m a coward, then a chatterbox. This isn’t usual for me, I promise.”

  “I’m not offended.” She shifted her tired body on the hard chair. “Talk all you like.”

  “I’ve said more in the last hour than I have in the past decade. You don’t mind?”

  She closed her notebook and forgot about her research. “Perhaps with no one to talk to in the fields except sheep, you have stored up all of your words.”

  His expression softened, making him look younger. “You’re an odd sort, aren’t you?”

  “I’m sorry. I made that comment without thinking. My sister always says my mouth will get me into trouble one day.”

  “Today is not that day.” He sat up and lowered his feet to the floor. “I can’t lay down anymore.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. It’s just the way that hideous gray leaf tea makes me feel… like something is vibrating inside my chest—burning but not painful. It’s aggravating, you know?”

  “No, I don’t. I’ve never had to drink gray leaf tea.”

  His shoulders slumped as he looked at the gauze wrapped around his hands. “I’m tired of talking about it… about me.” He propped his elbows on his knees. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Really, James, I’m happy to help—”

  “No, I mean this job. Why are you here… working for Dr. Bradshaw?” His golden eyes gazed at her from beneath his brow. “What made you want to be a doctor or whatever it is you are training to do?”

  “Oh goodness, I couldn’t be a doctor. I’m not sure I’ll be a good assistant… or that I want to make a career of it.” She leaned into the slats of the hard wooden chair. “I’m doing this because I want to study the gray leaf. I love plants. When I was in Connor’s class, he talked about the gray leaf research Dr. Bradshaw planned to do. She’d all but stopped after their son was born. Connor realized his wife needed an assistant and I wanted to study the gray leaf, so he suggested this arrangement. It’s only a trial position. I have three months to see if it suits me and also for Dr. Bradshaw to see if I suit the position.” She stared at the bandages on his hands. “No, I’m not cut out to be a doctor. I like being here. I watch the baby when Dr. Bradshaw has to leave to help someone, and she is teaching me proper research techniques.” She pointed at the microscope on the workbench. “And we’re combining our efforts to see if we can isolate the medicinal properties of the gray leaf.”

  “Fascinating.”

  She drew her head back. “I thought you hated the gray leaf.”

  He chuckled once. “I hate how the gray leaf makes me feel while it’s working inside me, but you make it sound interesting.”

  “Not to mention it saved your life tonight.”

  “I thought we were talking about you.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  He gave a half-grin. “Nicholas said you’re from Woodland too. Did you know him growing up?”

  “Not really.” The uncomfortable chair strained h
er low back. She stood and stepped to the curtain-covered window. “Nicholas graduated while I was still in primary school. I was happy when I first saw him in Good Springs, but I don’t want to court anyone while I’m training here. When I’m not reading the medical texts Dr. Bradshaw assigns me, research takes all my time. I can’t afford distractions.”

  “Distractions?”

  “Never mind.” She didn’t want to talk about Nicholas Vestal any more than James wanted to talk about the gray leaf.

  James held up both hands in surrender. After a moment he asked, “Do you get to see your family often?”

  She ran a finger along the curtain hem as she looked outside. Darkness blackened the yard between the cottage and the Colburn house. The world around her still felt brighter here at night than daytime back in Woodland. “Could we talk about something else?”

  “Sorry. You asked me the same question.”

  “You’re right.” She stretched her tired neck from one side to the other. “My sister, Alice, lives here in Good Springs, so I could see her often. But, like I said, my training keeps me busy. Besides, the less time I spend with my sister, the better. Alice isn’t very fond of me, and her husband, Hubert, is rather harsh. And as far as our parents… I haven’t gone back to Woodland since I left, and I don’t intend to.”

  James’s eyes narrowed, and Sophia regretted her candor. “I love them, of course. They are my parents. It’s just that I’m making my own life here now.”

  He didn’t ask any more questions. A long pause filled the dimly lit medical office with an uncomfortable silence.

  Finally, she returned to the chair. Instead of sitting, she rubbed her low back with one hand and motioned to the books on the bedside table with the other. “Would you like me to read to you now?”

  “No thanks,” he answered as he scooted down the cot. “You’re more interesting than that whole stack of books.”

  “Me?”

  “Sure.” He patted the space beside him on the cot. “Certainly more interesting than my usual company.”

  “The sheep?” She sat on the cot’s edge like Lydia had earlier. “It sounds lonesome spending your days in the fields.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t mind. Sheep conversations aren’t very intriguing, but I prefer them to being around people… except you.”

  She smiled and he locked her gaze with his. Before she could speak or move or turn her eyes away, he leaned in and kissed her. Every muscle in her body froze, surprised by the strangeness of it all—the roughness of his whisker-covered chin, the hint of gray leaf on his breath, the force of misplaced emotion.

  He pulled back just as quickly as he had moved in. “Goodnight, Miss Ashton,” he said abruptly and laid himself down.

  She pressed her lips together, not knowing what to say or do. The only other kiss she’d experienced flashed through her mind—a daring rendezvous behind the schoolhouse with a fifteen-year-old boy when she was twelve. He’d told everyone about it, even though he’d sworn he wouldn’t. Her mother had locked her in the root cellar all night for that.

  Should she reprimand James for his forwardness? Storm out? Get Lydia?

  Her mouth opened to demand an explanation, but James’s eyes closed. His hands slid limply to the cot, and his head lolled to the side. The gray leaf had finally given him the sleep he needed.

  She moved to Lydia’s desk in such a swift motion she didn’t remember leaving the cot or walking across the medical office or sitting at the desk. Her fingertips flipped open a medical text. Maybe reading would distract her from what happened. Her eyes scanned the words on the pages, but her mind couldn’t decipher their meaning… or the meaning of James’s kiss.

  Chapter Three

  Bailey Colburn checked her cell phone for the millionth time. Still no service. One more hour before her shift ended and she could go home to her plant-filled apartment in the pigsty of post-war Norfolk, Virginia. After a careful scan of the bar’s entrance and patrons, she stuffed her phone into the back pocket of her faded jeans.

  A middle-aged customer sitting at the bar watched her over the rim of his drink. He clicked his tongue. “How many times have you checked that piece of junk since Global’s announcement?” He cracked open a peanut, and a fragment of shell shot into his beard. It lodged in the long, wiry hair. “I’ll bet you charge your phone every night—now that the electricity is back on—just in case cell service gets reliable again. It won’t.”

  Bailey should have ignored him, but she needed money. The girl who worked nights insisted a friendly attitude kept the tips flowing. Research assignments came infrequently for plant biologists these days, so Bailey’s choice was to be nice to customers or go hungry. She faked a smile for the bearded guy. “Hope springs eternal, right?”

  “Not anymore,” he slurred, peanut shrapnel still dangling from his facial mop. “You don’t believe Global’s empty promises, do you, girly?”

  None of the other customers flinched at bearded guy’s negative opinion of Global. They might not have heard him over the music—decade-old hits from a time when people ordered soy lattes and the slightest disruption of cell phone service caused hissy fits.

  Bailey glanced around the bar. The retail space was an upscale coffee shop before the war. No one wanted overpriced coffee these days. Everyone needed a drink.

  Her boss was in the back office, no doubt plotting his next suburban salvage. Reuse and restore—that was Global’s directive to all survivors in the Unified States. He obeyed the rhetoric and scavenged dead people’s businesses for new opportunities. Morbid as it was, Bailey now had employment. This job would have to do, at least until a research assignment opened or until the Global takeover. They would probably turn the remaining Unified States population into slave laborers. At least that’s what most civilians feared.

  Bailey gave bearded guy a quick nod as the only indicator she shared his distrust of the international organization trying to lure the Unified States into joining them to form a one-world government. If he didn’t get the message, she didn’t care. She wasn’t here to make friendly conversation or debate joining Global—just to earn a few bucks while the Unified States dollar was still legal currency. This gig wasn’t permanent. PharmaTech would call again soon, or Professor Tim would find them another company still researching therapeutic biologicals, and she’d be out of here faster than Global could tell another lie.

  The front door opened between the blacked-out windows and flooded the bar with a jarring afternoon glare. The silhouette of a man with a medium build, square shoulders, and a buzz cut snaked between the tables toward the bar. As the door closed and Bailey’s eyes readjusted, recognition dropped her mood from bad to worse.

  Bearded guy frowned, reflecting Bailey’s sentiment. “He’s from Global,” he mumbled with disgust.

  “No badge, but you’re right.”

  “Before the war, I would’ve bought any serviceman a drink just because he risked his life to fight for our country.”

  She lowered her volume. “Back when we had a country.” Every foster mom she’d lived with while growing up had dated guys from the naval station, except for Mrs. Polk. Still, somehow she’d come out of her dysfunctional childhood with a sliver of patriotic pride. Now the Unified States Military was as fragmented as the peanut shells littering the bar. “Shame all the good ones died from the plague.”

  “Or Global got to them. The plague was Global’s doing.” Bearded guy gulped the last of his drink then slapped money onto the counter. “Watch your back, girly,” he said before leaving. Half of the other customers walked out behind him.

  Bailey pretended to be busy behind the counter as the buzz-cropped warrior approached the bar. He peeled off a pair of aviator-style sunglasses and hung them at the neck of his crisply ironed shirt. With her back to him, she watched his reflection in the steel surface of an unused espresso machine. Freshly shorn black hair and an arrogant smirk, he sat on the stool left vacant by bearded guy and unzipped his jac
ket.

  Down a short hallway at the end of the bar, the office door swung open. Bailey’s boss strode out, holding a plastic moneybag. He gave the military man a respectful nod then looked at Bailey. “Did Eva get here yet?”

  When Bailey shook her head, he tossed her the store keys. “Give these to her when she comes in. The safe is empty,” he said loud enough for the customers seated by the front door to hear. “I won’t be back before the curfew. Tell her to lock up at ten.”

  “Will do.” She clipped the jangling ring of keys to her belt loop. “See you tomorrow,” she said, wishing she wouldn’t, wishing she could somehow wake up tomorrow morning at the Polks’ farmhouse in the country.

  She hadn’t thought of the Polk family in years, hadn’t allowed herself to. They had temporarily fostered her the summer she was ten, and she’d secretly longed for the quiet country life ever since. The yearning to be part of a family like the Polks lurked beneath the surface of her well-guarded heart. Had the Polks survived the water poisoning and the war and the plague?

  The man at the bar caught Bailey’s eye. She pushed aside her sentiment, swallowed her disdain for Global, and topped off the half-empty peanut basket in front of him. “What can I get for you?”

  He glanced at the two occupied tables near the entrance then back at her. His military officer training accentuated the lucid beat in his voice. “What time does your shift end?”

  She considered punching him in the throat but reached down to the cooler instead. “A beer it is.” She uncapped the bottle and plunked it on the bar with an icy stare.

  He didn’t touch it. A prideful grin curved his lips. “I wasn’t hitting on you.”

  “Whatever makes you feel better, pal.” She moved out of arms reach and wiped the bar’s enamel surface.

  The night bartender scurried in through the front door, tangled hair and tinkling jewelry. No matter how badly Bailey wanted to go home, there was no way she could leave Eva alone with the creeper at the bar. Maybe if they ignored him, he would down his beer and leave.

  Eva shifted her bulky tote bag to the other shoulder as she stepped behind the bar. “Sorry I’m late. Long night. Let me freshen up and I’ll take over for you.”