A subdivision, still under construction. Unable to withstand his curiosity, he turned left, into the astonishing phenomenon, and drove through.
“Is this where we live, Daddy?” Deck asked from his car seat. His kids’ heads had been swiveling back and forth since he’d announced their arrival in town.
“No, little man. Just something I’m curious about.”
It was only three streets of about two blocks each that cut across Juniper, which otherwise was a normal country lane and, beyond this weird new thing called Signal Bend Station, reverted to its original state, framed by fields and a few old farmhouses.
Only three houses stood, still under construction but at least their exteriors near completion. Each one was different, and Bart figured them for models. As subdivisions went, it wasn’t much. But still. Small as it was, Signal Bend, Missouri, had its first subdivision. Bart was stunned.
He had a lot of questions.
Swinging around a cul de sac at the farthest street, which had a street sign at the corner naming it Pullman Circle, Bart pulled back out onto Juniper and returned to Main Street. Their ‘new’ house was one of the original farmhouses in town, and at this moment, he felt an extra layer of comfort in that.
He turned left onto Main and moved on through town, back into the country.
Rolling hills formed the terrain of this part of Missouri. As many of the older farmhouses in and around town did, the house Bart had bought sat in a slight valley. Thus, as they rolled down the long gravel lane that was their driveway, all they could see at first was the red roof of the house and the gray roofs of the barn and other outbuildings.
Then he crested the hill.
There was a party happening in his yard. A cookout—he could see the smoke coming off the big Night Horde grill. Everyone was there. All the Night Horde and, from what he could tell, most of the town of Signal Bend, too. A sign stretched across the front of the house: Welcome Home!
Badger, Isaac, Lilli, Show, and Len all walked forward, almost in a line, as he parked the Tahoe.
“Daddy?” Lexi asked, sitting up as tall as she could in the seat behind him. She’d met everyone coming toward them, but she wasn’t close to any of them yet.
“That’s our family, Lex. We’re home.”
It was Isaac who stepped up first, grabbing Bart before he had the driver’s door closed and yanking him into a gargantuan hug.
“’Bout fuckin’ time, Bartholomew.”
Feeling emotion more intense than he could manage, Bart didn’t trust himself to speak. He held on to Isaac, feeling his first President’s patch under his hands. He couldn’t let go. He felt like if he let go of Isaac, he’d lose what had been keeping him together since the day he’d walked into a Nevada hospital and kissed his dead wife goodbye.
Then Isaac said, so only Bart could hear, “We got your back, brother.”
And he lost it anyway. Right there, in the yard of the house that meant his family’s new start, in front of his family, his history, in front of his grieving children, who were still strapped in the back seat, Bart fell apart. As it had that day with Bibi, the iron band holding the pieces of his heart and soul in place broke loose. This time, it dropped away entirely.
He let Isaac hold him up while he wept.
FOUR
Bart came to consciousness gently, feeling calm and content. Before he opened his eyes, though, that lead drape of recollection settled over his chest.
As he took a deep breath, trying to stretch out and make room for his heart to beat under the weight, other things about the world around him claimed his notice. The smell was different. And he was on an air mattress.
He was in Signal Bend, sleeping with his kids on the floor of their new living room.
That knowledge lightened the weight a little, and he opened his eyes and sat up. The sun had risen. Lexi was sleeping next to him, only her golden ponytail peeking up out of her closed sleeping bag.
Smiling, he turned to the other side, where his boys…were gone. Their air mattresses were bare, their sleeping bags in wads on the plain wood floor.
He fought his way out of his own sleeping bag and jumped to his feet, his heart pounding plenty now, slamming in its cage.
Then he heard Ian laugh. And then Deck. The sound was muffled; they were outside. Clutching his t-shirt in his fist at chest level like that might hold his heart in place, he crossed the room to the big paned window and looked out on the yard.
The boys were crouched under a old elm tree. Once, the tree had supported a tire swing: a frayed rope hung from a thick, low branch, its bark gouged, marking its history entertaining children. Without the tire, the tree seemed to yet offer a childish delight or two, though. A few big, flat rocks that had, apparently, been lying at its base had been turned up, showing their dark, wet undersides. It looked like the boys had been digging for critters.
At the moment, however, they were looking out into the gone-to-seed pasture. Bart followed the direction of their attention and saw a family of deer, mother and two youths, their spots fading. They must have heard the boys laugh, because they stood in perfect stillness, staring at Ian and Deck, and the boys had not made another sound since.
Bart stood and watched through the window for a full minute, maybe more, until the mother deer decided that there was no threat to her children and led them on through the weedy pasture. She seemed to take them straight through the fence; he’d have to go out there and find where it was down.
Ian and Deck remained frozen until the deer faded into the woods. Then, as their father watched, Ian held his hand up, palm out, to his little brother, and Deck slapped it.
Bart turned back and saw that Lexi still slept quietly. He didn’t want to wake her, but he didn’t want her waking alone, either. Deciding he’d go no farther than the door, he went there and pushed the wooden screen door open.
When it made the distinctive screech that only an old country screen door could make, another layer of lead came off his chest. That was a sound of home. Of history and memory and comfort.
Today, the movers would come, and they would build a new life out of good memories. And Riley would be with him, with them. She was in the things they’d bought together, in the memories they’d built and the mementos they’d kept, and she was in the children they’d made.
At the sound of the door, the boys turned, and Deck jumped up and ran to him. “Daddy! Daddy! We have pet deers!!”
~oOo~
The movers unpacked them in about half the time that it had taken to pack them, and they were paid and wending their way down the gravel lane before supper time. Bart’s bikes had arrived during the unpacking and were now arrayed in a garage that was going to need some work before it was worthy to hold his gear.
Once the hauler was out of sight, Bart went back into the house, still feeling a little thrill of peace at the screen door’s screech and then its thwap as it landed again in its jamb.
The movers had taken the boxes and packing material away with them. This morning, he and the kids had woken in an empty house. Eight hours later, they lived in a cozy home. Only the walls were bare, the hangings meant for them unpacked and leaning against them. Bart wanted to do that himself.
Last night, surrounded by family and friends, he’d asked for privacy today, while they moved in. He wanted it to be just him and the kids, settling into their home. Deck had followed the men in and out of the house all day, at just enough distance to be safe. Ian had wandered the property. They had twenty-five acres, and Bart told him they’d explore it all together, but for now he needed to stay in sight of the house. He’d spent a lot of time in the barn.
Lexi had managed, telling the movers where to set things down—and often how to set things down. It was so much a facet of her personality to be bossy, and that facet had been so dull since her mother had died and she’d been hurt, that Bart simply smiled and let her be the boss.
There was one bedroom on the first floor of the house. It was the big
gest, with a beautiful bay window and window seat overlooking the woods and the pond. Bart had let Lexi have it. For practical reasons, because he was worried that the stairs could be too much for her leg, and for emotional reasons. He had no need of a large bedroom for himself; he’d be lonely enough without living alone in space for two.
And he wanted Lexi to have that beautiful room.
Now, he knocked on the ajar door and pushed it a few inches open. She was sitting on the window seat; she’d arranged pillows were there should have been a pad. They had some shopping to do to get this house the way they wanted it. For one thing, all the walls had been painted beige. The realtor must have convinced the previous owners that buyers had no imagination.
Even so, it already looked like her room. The built-in shelves on either side of the bay window were filled with her books and keepsakes, her furniture was arranged, her bed was made, and her big Victorian dollhouse was set up in the corner.
She was simply sitting on the window seat, looking out at the woods.
“Can I come in, Lex?”
“Sure, Daddy.” She smiled, and he crossed the room and sat on the seat with her.
“What’re you thinking about?”
She sighed, and he knew what she’d say. “Mom.”
He laid his hand on her outstretched leg. “What about her?”
“Do you think she’d like it here?”
“I know she would. She did like it here. Mom and I met in Signal Bend. This is where we fell in love.” His heart ached, but the pain wasn’t crippling. He thought about that first week of them, here in town, and felt happiness swirl in with the hurt.
“On that movie about you.”
“Right. It’s not really about me, but yeah. It’s about here.” Lexi was still much too young to see that movie or to know what it was her father really did. Had done.
At that thought, Bart almost laughed, but with no humor. Lexi—and Ian, maybe Deck, too—knew exactly what their father did. Their mother had died right in front of them because of what their father did.
He’d moved them here to escape all that, and his own stewing would help no one, so with a powerful effort, he shut the thought down. “Hey—what do you say about taking a ride around town? We haven’t been here since you were little, and a lot has changed. But a lot’s the same, too. You want to meet Signal Bend?”
~oOo~
In a truck that still smelled weird—he’d have to get it cleaned out and washed soon—Bart drove his kids around the town he’d become a man in.
He started at the Welcome sign, pulling onto the shoulder right in front of it. When the road was clear—there was more traffic around than he remembered—he got out and went around to help them all out on the lee side. Then he led them up to the sign.
“Hey, Deck. What do you see?”
Deck studied the sign, then pointed to the image of a black steam engine pulling freight cars around a sharp bend. “A choo-choo!”
“That’s right.” The sign had been the same as long as it had stood here, but this was a bright, fresh version of it. “It’s called Signal Bend because back in the old days, before cars and highways, trains used to come through here all the time on their way across the country. There’s a big bend in the tracks, so they paid a man to live here and send up a warning so the engineer wouldn’t crash his train when he got to the bend. That man was called a signalman. When a town got built up around the signalman’s house, they called it Signal Bend.”
“That’s kinda dumb,” Ian said. He didn’t say it with malice or snark, so Bart grinned at him.
“Maybe so. But Madrone is named after a tree. If you think about it, town names are pretty obvious most of the time, named after people and things. I always liked the name Signal Bend. It’s better than something like some guy’s name with ‘berg’ or ‘ville’ jammed on the end of it.”
At that, Ian made a face that said, Yeah, I can see that.
“There’s horsies, too, Daddy. Are horsies on the train?”
“It’s horse, Deck,” Lexi corrected. “Say horse. Are there horses on the train.”
Ian huffed and stepped away from his sister. “Shut up, Lex. You’re not the boss.”
“Daddy, I’m right, though. He should say it right.”
“ARE THERE HORSIES ON THE TRAIN?” Deck yelled, still waiting for his answer.
“Guys! Wow!” But Bart laughed. This was good, their bickering. This was normal. “Deck, I don’t know. I think sometimes maybe horses were on trains. Lex, you’re right. But he’s four and still learning, and sometimes it’s better if he figures out the right way on his own. You say it right, and he’ll figure it out without you telling him he’s wrong. Ian, check your ‘tude, bro.”
Lexi laughed. “Daddy, you called Ian ‘bro.’”
Ian laughed, too. “Yeah, that was lame.”
“Yeah, great,” Bart mock-groaned. “Yuck it up at your lame old dad. C’mon. There’s lots more to see.” He swung Deck up into his arms and took Lexi’s hand, and they all went back to the truck.
He took them to the town square, and they walked around, peeking into the library and town hall, and wandering briefly through the little park in the center. None of that had changed.
He drove them to the Keller Acres B&B, owned by Lilli and run by Shannon, Show’s old lady, but no one he knew was around. So they walked the grounds a little, Bart keeping close watch on Lexi and her limp.
There were three horses grazing lazily in a paddock near the barn; Bart assumed they’d just been doing trail duty. Deck yelled “HORSIES!” and tore off that way, so they all followed.
While they stood at the fence and watched the horses, who were ignoring them, Lexi asked, “Does everybody have horses out here?”
“I don’t think everybody, no. Some people live in town. But almost everybody who has a place for one, yeah, I’d say so. Country people have farm animals, even if they don’t work the land. We’ll have some, too, if you want.”
It occurred to him that, while their kids had had chores and had been responsible for keeping their rooms tidy, they’d lived their whole lives among gardeners and pool guys and decorators, and a four-person maid service that came once a week for the heavy cleaning—not to mention the housekeeper and cook who had been a backup mother for their whole lives.
They didn’t know how to live in this world.
“But animals are lot of work,” he continued, “and this isn’t the kind of life where you can just make a phone call and have somebody come out to do your work. We’re going to have to keep up the house and do the cooking and, if we get animals, we’re going to have to take care of them. Feed them and spend time with them, and clean up their poop and everything.”
“Daddy said poop!” Deck giggled. And then, in a bizarre juxtaposition only a small child or a stoned adult—there were more than a few similarities between then two—could make, he added. “I’m hungry.”
“Oh yeah? How about you guys? You want to eat? There’s an awesome diner that’s been in town since before I was born. I heard it’s open for supper these days. You want to try it out? Then, when our bellies are full, we can go to the market and fill our larder at home.”
“What’s a larder?” Ian asked.
“That’s country for pantry, buddy. At least, that’s what the old ladies around here call it.”
~oOo~
When he’d lived in Signal Bend before, Marie’s had always been open for breakfast and lunch only. But now it was open until nine five nights a week and until midnight on Friday and Saturday. Marie Bakke, who’d owned the diner forever with her husband, Dave, had retired and sold the place after Dave passed not even a year ago.
She’d been careful about whom she’d sold it to, so very little had changed. Saxon, one of the Night Horde who’d been just a kid before Bart had moved to California, had bought it with his parents and sister. Now they all ran it together, and they hadn’t changed much at all, except to extend the hours.
Bart had heard all this through his correspondence with his friends at home, but seeing the glow of the diner in the twilight as he pulled onto the blacktopped parking lot, he had a feeling like vertigo. Marie’s lights were supposed to be on before sunrise, not after sunset.
When he led the kids in, he felt better. Nothing at all had changed. Even the smell was exactly the same. And Marie herself was there—in jeans and a long sweater, sitting on the customer side of the counter, but there nonetheless.
The bell over the door tinkled, and, as always, everybody turned to see who was coming in. Bart didn’t recognize most of the faces, and they didn’t seem all that interested in him.
Calm & Storm (The Night Horde SoCal Book 6) Page 33