It had been six years, and yet it had been the blink of an eye. The loss of him had not abated; she still expected to see him walk through the door, or be there in bed with her when she woke up at night. “I’m not in judgment of you and I’m less worried about the age difference than you apparently are.” She stared into his eyes, “What I want to know is this: is the love that Grace feels for you returned? Do you feel for her as she feels for you?”
He started to stammer out a response and she stopped him. “I’ve put you on the spot, and that isn’t fair. So listen to me, and think about it. Grace is in love with you. She has been for years.”
He started to disagree and she stopped him with a wave of his finger, “You think she is too young to know what she wants, but she isn’t. She was practically a mute when I sent her to you. The only time I heard anything from her was at night, when she would scream from the nightmares of remembering that awful day. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew she was lost and I hurt so much from losing Anthony that I could barely help myself, much less her.”
Karen stopped for a moment, collected the emotions threatening to burst out now. Even after all this time, the wounds were fresh. She gazed at the horizon, and in the distance they could see the children returning, tumbling through the grass. In a few moments they would be back in the church parking lot.
“I sent her to you, Jeremy, because I remember your face when you saw her that day, sitting out on the back porch. And you helped her; both you and the Reverend did, but mostly you. She focused in on you like you were her own private lifeboat. At first, yes, when she first talked about marrying you I dismissed it too. She was a child, with simple beliefs and a good heart. But as these years have passed, she’s grown up and never deviated from it. She’s waiting for you to reciprocate. So you think about that, Reverend Deeds, and let me know if my daughter’s feelings for you are something you can return.”
Jeremy squirmed again at the title of Reverend. “Please, I really wish everyone would stop calling me that.”
Karen shook her head, “You are the Reverend here now, you know. Long before Reverend Thomas passed you were doing his job and we all know that. Let your parishioners call you Reverend Deeds; it’s for them, not for you.” And with that piece of advice she hugged him, then got up and walked off, leaving him to sit under the large oak tree with a completely new point of view.
She was gone before Grace and the kids returned and he couldn’t help but smile when one of them flung herself into his arms, half-damp and covered in grass. Collette, the youngest, just an infant when her father and mother died during the assault by a faction of the Western Front on the tiny town of Tiptonville, giggled as she squirmed in his lap. She was an adorable child, with curly red hair and lively brown eyes.
“Mister Jeremy, we went swimming in the creek and I catched a crawdad but Miss Grace said I hadda put it back.” She pouted slightly, her eyes dancing with mischief.
“Quite right,” Jeremy smiled down at the child, and then flashed a smile up at Grace, “Leave that crawdad in his home. Besides, you are lucky he didn’t pinch you,” he said, eliciting a scream as he tickled her side. And with that, the rest of the kids dove in and began wiggling, tickling, and shrieking in Jeremy’s lap while Grace looked on and shook her head in mock disapproval.
Jeremy looked up during the ruckus and caught Grace staring at him with a look he hadn’t seen before. Or perhaps it was better to say, he hadn’t bothered to notice. It seemed that, when Grace came around, he spent a great deal of time looking at everyone else but her. And why was that? Why was he so worried about what others thought of him? Or of her?
This thought continued to plague him, through an early dinner, through the evening games and storytelling, through the baths and bedtime rituals, and he found himself sneaking glances at her throughout the evening. Grace was petite, like her mother, with curly brown hair and big blue eyes. She still slept in the girls’ dorm every Monday through Thursday night, and went back to the family farm Friday evenings after supper, returning early Monday in time to help him fix breakfast for the kids. Today she was wearing a pair of patched and tattered jean shorts and a short-sleeved top. She was slim, and seeing her in a new light after Karen’s visit still had him feeling like he was some kind of pervert. There were twenty years between them, for crying out loud, and he felt wrong just looking at her that way.
Just then, as the last of the kids were put to bed and they were alone, tidying up the communal living spaces, Grace turned to ask him a question and caught him staring at her. Jeremy’s face flamed red and he quickly turned away. For crying out loud, he was thirty-nine years old, and here he was, blushing like a pimply-faced teenager trying to get to first base. He was so busy trying to hide the flush on face that he missed the big grin that lit her face at his sudden interest.
It would be two weeks before he mustered the courage to visit Karen Wilkes and answer her question on how he felt about her daughter and another five more before the church was able to play the wedding march for the couple. Despite Jeremy’s fears, none of the townsfolk or members of the church had concerns about the age difference. Too many things had changed in the world, and if the Reverend was happy, and Grace was happy, then they were too.
In the years to come, the disparate age gap would matter little, and the couple, their adopted children, all orphans, and their two biological children would be instrumental in bringing healing to the community.
To Each a Trade
“The idea of apprenticeship was a term that seemed to hark from the Middle Ages. But here was this opportunity, for Tina, for us, and we accepted it. I think it was one of the best decisions we made as a family, but it was hard, real hard. Watching her leave was hard for me and hardest by far for David. But we were facing a bleak, cold winter. A late start to the spring planting, along with a freak frost in mid-May had wiped out all of the fruit tree harvest and a freak cold snap in late August had wiped out most of our remaining crops. We were in bad shape and we knew it. So we said our goodbyes, watched her walk away with her hand firmly in Penelope’s, and hoped we would all survive our first winter apart.” – Jess’s Journal
Jess didn’t like the smell of the lamb’s ear. She had cut the dried, dead flower spikes off of the plants and began trying to extract the seeds. Jess had done this with all of the plants currently in the garden. So far she had managed to harvest hundreds of sage seeds. The sage hadn’t bothered Jess a bit, but David had run out of the house protesting the strong scent and howling that his eyes were burning.
It was early September, yet the days were still quite warm. The sun beat down and there was a light breeze, keeping it from being unbearably hot. Everyone was busy with something, making use of the slightly cooler weather to get a long list of needed tasks done. At the moment, it was almost impossible to imagine the impending winter. The tomatoes were still producing and the apples that had escaped the late frost were just about ready to harvest. David had announced he would be clearing an area on the other side of the block where they hoped to start a new orchard and plant the ten small apple trees he had helped Mr. Banks graft last year. There were also a large number of peach and cherry trees that Jacob and Tina had planted as seeds which were now in their second year of growth and ready to be transplanted as well. They had all headed over to the area that morning and were clearing areas of weed cover and prepping the soil. That left Erin and Jess and Quincy behind.
Erin sat quietly next to Jess, her red hair shining in the sun. It was curly, just as Erin’s had been. Sometimes Jess found herself wanting to believe that she was Erin, or even Erin’s daughter, a piece of her best friend come back to her, a piece she could keep close.
She had seen her friend die. But it didn’t matter; she still caught herself hoping for a different reality. The little girl was so quiet, still mute, unlike her namesake in so many ways, yet Jess loved having her near. The child had a gentle, kind spirit, which spoke louder than words ever could.
> Jess had also harvested the dried pods from the kale plants that had flowered. She had uncovered a garden three houses down beneath a dense carpet of weeds and discovered a persistent kale plant in the mix.
That little gem had yielded hundreds of seeds. She had planted handfuls of kale seeds in areas close to the chicken coop where the chickens could feast on them. Then she had planted long rows of kale two houses down, which still had a privacy fence mostly in place. The flock never strayed too far from their coop and, hidden behind the tall fence, the rows of kale grew thick and lush. The plants would be perfect for adding to salads and soups, and for trade as well, since most of the townspeople still seemed to be in a rut of growing the tried and true vegetables, without thought to nutritional powerhouses like kale.
She didn’t know what to do with all of these lamb’s ear seeds, didn’t even know if it was worth her time to do this, but she persevered. Jess gathered every seed she saw come available; basil looked to be next, and some lettuce that had bolted in the rows next to the kale. She wrote on scraps of paper and shoved the drying plants into bowls, boxes, anything that would hold them. She sat on the front stoop, slowly picking at the stalks of lamb’s ear, trying not to breathe through her nose. The flower stalks of the plant had an odd smell that made her almost nauseous.
The smell seemed to bother Erin equally. She wrinkled up her nose and made a face at Jess, which made her laugh out loud.
Quincy let out a small whine and one short bark. This usually meant that someone familiar was approaching the house. Jess looked up, surprised to see a stranger approaching. The woman looked to be in her late 40s with slim, long legs, and she was tall. Her hair was long, straight, and dark and she had it braided in one thick rope down the middle of her back. Her temples showed gray, as did one long streak that ran the length of her long hair. Despite the cool fall day, she was wearing shorts and a sleeveless tank top with a durable rucksack resting on her shoulders.
She met Jess’s gaze and smiled, raised her hand in greeting, “Hello there! You must be Jessica Aaronson.” She reached down and scratched the dog’s ears, “And this must be Quincy.”
Quincy licked the woman’s hand, then settled down at Jess’s feet again, her tail a steady thump against the ground. Her latest litter of puppies squirmed on a blanket nearby, mainly sleeping, and Quincy didn’t seem alarmed at all by the stranger. Jess had long since come to rely on her dog’s instincts—she had found them to be quite accurate.
Still, Jess knew nothing about this strange woman, but she already seemed to know a great deal about Jess and her little family. “Uh, hello.” It sounded lame as it came out. Who was this woman?
“I’m Penelope,” the woman said, sticking her hand out to shake Jess’s. Jess fumbled with the lamb’s ear and quickly stood up to shake Penelope’s hand. “I see you are collecting lamb’s ear seeds.” Her eyes were a dark brown color, full of warmth as she asked, “Do you work with other herbs?”
Jess nodded, and did not elaborate. The truth of the matter was that the lamb’s ear, along with the basil and some other herb seeds she could barely identify, would probably be handed over to Tina. Despite being just ten years old, the girl had become a font of knowledge.
Penelope smiled, “Do you know anything about the properties of lamb’s ear, Jess?”
“Only that it’s making me feel sick to my stomach. I don’t like the weird smell.”
The woman laughed then, and it was soft and free. “Stop for a while and I’ll take over. I’ve gotten used to it.” She sat down on the stoop, took the bucket from Jess, and began plucking at the dry flower heads. Jess could hear the intermittent scatter of seeds as they fell and hit the bottom of the bucket. “The leaves can be picked early, before it flowers and can be dried and used in tea. You could also eat it in salads, or steamed, but most people object to the furry aspect of it. The best use of lamb’s ear is for small wound care—it is absorbent and soft, and plentiful. But that isn’t why I came here.” She finished with one stalk and started on another.
“I’ve come to speak with you and David about Tina and a possible apprenticeship.”
Jess looked at her, trying to gauge whether the woman was joking, “Tina’s only ten years old.”
Penelope’s hands didn’t stop moving as she turned toward Jess and gave her a long, appraising look. She had spent time in the heart of the town, talking to Sarah Turner. She had described Jess as the go to person for information on the town and its residents. After a few days of trade and work, Penelope knew enough of the girl’s history to know that she and her house full of kids had struggled through some pretty tough times in the past six years. Sarah Ann had been forthcoming with details about Jess, informing her that Jess was busy writing down the lives and accounts of most of the residents of Belton and compiling a history of the area.
“She goes from house to house, usually during the winter when there’s not so much to do,” Sarah Ann had said, “She writes down whatever memories they have—of this war, of their families, of the time before—whatever someone wants to talk about, really.” The woman had shrugged. “I wasn’t born here, but she even wanted my story.”
Penelope had been as circumspect as possible. She had been searching a long time for the author of the letter she had found in the cave. She was sure, however, that this Jess Aaronson was the one that had seen Mom through her final days, and buried her in the cairn outside her beloved cave.
If you are reading this, then you undoubtedly know Madge. My name is Jess Aaronson. I’m sixteen years old.
The letter was crumpled and tattered now, worn from reading and re-reading it over and over.
“Well, I’ve heard from Dr. Ridley that she knows a lot about herbs and healing.” She smiled and turned back to the lamb’s ear. “I’ve also come for a different reason. I’ve been looking for you for a long time now, nearly five years. You see, you knew someone very important to me.”
She let Jess digest this in a long moment of silence. Jess’s fear was rising slowly. This woman wasn’t a soldier; she had no weapons...could she have come from the camp? Her memories of Tent Five and the camp haunted her dreams each night, but her days had been bright and full of love for long enough that she had learned to cope with the nightly terrors.
Penelope must have sensed her fear, as she stopped and said, “I’m sorry; I didn’t tell you my full name. It’s Penelope Falling Water Aster...Dr. Madeleine Falling Water—you may have known her as Madge—she was my mother.”
“I, she, oh my God. Grandmother Madge. She...” Jess couldn’t put the words together. And the tears came then.
Penelope watched her for a moment. She had read the letter so many times, but she had still had her doubts. Had this girl and the other children truly loved her mother? Had Madge been at peace, surrounded by someone, anyone, who may have cared for her? Had they said the prayers the old woman’s spirit required in order to find peace in the hereafter? Watching Jess now, it seemed that the letter had spoken true.
Before I tell you how your friend or mother died, I want to tell you how she lived. How she gave us sanctuary and saved our lives, by leading us here, to this cave...
The four of us, my newborn son Jacob, David, and Tina, both orphans from Clinton, and I have been here since September.
Penelope reached out and hugged Jess to her as tears began to slide down her nose. David found them that way a few minutes later and just stood and stared at the two sobbing women. A moment later, Tina also wandered up and took in the scene.
I am sure I do not need to tell you how special Madge was—or how much she came to mean to us. I lost my best friend in the world just days before she found us. I couldn’t think; I was scared and lost.
“What’s going on? Who is she?” Tina asked her brother. He just shrugged and kept staring at Jess and Penelope. Tina’s voice, however, was enough to reduce the crying and elicit some basic explanation of who Penelope was. This was followed immediately with an invitation to dinner.
>
Two hours later, the sun had slipped low on the horizon and dusk was gathering. Penelope’s husband Kip had joined them and they had just finished nibbling the last kernels of corn off of the cob.
Penelope had been fascinated by little Erin, who at nearly four years of age was in a growth spurt and had lost most of her babyish looks. The young girl was slender and pixie-like, her freckled skin slightly sunburnt, and her hair a mass of bright red curls. She still did not speak, and Jess wondered about it from time to time. Would she ever? She had been with the family for just over six months and was obviously happy with everyone. She understood what was asked of her, nodded, smiled, and shook her head when she disagreed, but never spoke a single word, except for the occasional giggle when David tickled her.
As dinner wrapped up there was a quiet silence that descended upon the group. Penelope looked at the bunch of them and marveled at their resilience. Jess was tall and graceful. Her skin was tanned a golden brown from working in the sun, and her hair fell in long curls down the middle of her back. David was in his mid-to-late teens, and his arms and chest were muscled and lean. They had served some stew with turkey and wild greens in it and Jess had pointed to David, noting that he was the one who had landed them the turkey using his bow. It was the same bow that Grandmother Madge had taught him to use.
The end was peaceful. We were with her, holding her hands, and my baby Jacob nestled beside her. She loved to hold him, and he adored her. We all did.
The sun had slipped down beyond the horizon, pink and red streaks colored the clouds, the crickets had begun to sing, and the evening had a chill. They had spent hours describing their time with Grandmother Madge in the cave. Penelope and Kip had asked many questions, Kip especially, amazed that they had all spent a winter there. As dinner had wound down, they had put a pot of chicory coffee on to boil, sweetened with the sugar beets Jess had cultivated in the yard two houses down.
A Brave New World: War's End, #2 Page 13