by S.E. Akers
I’d never asked to change my schedule before and had always come in whenever Charlie needed me, so I didn’t think he would have a problem accommodating my request. As I headed up the steps en route to my bedroom, I couldn’t help but wonder, If I’m putting up this much of a fuss, what the heck is Mike going to say?
AND THAT, I felt certain, was the final straw to land on my rotten evening, which inevitably spurred my restless night and spawned one hell of a bad dream.
“Yep. Some FAVOR,” I repeated, shaking my head as I continued to stare out the living room window. Ugh… Strangely, the proverb, “That which doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger,” shot through my head like a cannon. It didn’t help. Not a lick. I knew I should have slept on it before rendering my final decision. But what’s done, was done. I couldn’t break Chloe’s heart. The big sister I’d always wanted her to look up to didn’t want that…no matter how miserable I was going to be.
Let’s just hope that between Mike and me, I’m the one who makes it out alive!
Suddenly a building beam broke through the murky darkness. The lighted roll bar fired all of my synapses and not a moment too soon. Samuel’s Jeep. It was his turn to drive, and my father’s best-bud and co-worker was bringing him home. I came in a whisker of throwing open the front door but paused when I heard the engine shut off. That only meant one thing: Man-Meetin’ on the porch — the kind of secret summit that revolved around guy gossip, the occasional six-packs of beer (pending the time of day), and work-woes galore. And in light of recent rumors, they had enough of them to fill the bed of a coal truck.
I crept back into the living room, positioning myself as close to the window as I could. This wasn’t my first eavesdropping escapade, not by a long shot. But I only did it in an emergency and only when it came to the really important stuff…and this was one of those crucial times.
It didn’t take Daddy and Samuel long to hit on the subject of the mine and its future. They bounced around a few speculations, though nothing I deemed meaty enough, at least not until Daddy mentioned something about a meeting later today at 3 o’clock. Now that little tidbit sure had my ears shooting to attention faster than Scooby Doo. But they never said who it was with or why. Samuel didn’t prod him for any specifics, so he obviously knew.
I bet I could get it out of him, I thought. Samuel was no pushover by any means, but we had a special bond. Samuel had been a huge part of my life for as long as I could remember—like biologically-bound family—and I fully exercised the perks of being his honorary daughter. He didn’t have any children of his own or any living kin for that matter. The only relative of Samuel’s that I knew about was his wife, Sarah, though I’d never gotten the chance to meet her…and unfortunately never would.
Sarah Clark passed away long before I was born. I’d always wondered why Samuel had never remarried until I’d overheard a particularly private conversation one hot, August evening over eight years ago. The two of them were kicked back on the porch, unwinding with a few cold-ones. Daddy was dropping several hints to Samuel about Eve Andrews, one of the secretaries who worked the dayshift. Apparently she had stressed to Daddy (on several occasions) how much she would love to go on a date with Samuel. He let Daddy know real quick he wasn’t the least bit interested and then stressed to Daddy that, “No other woman roaming the earth could ever come close to taking Sarah’s place and as long as she was in his heart, there wouldn’t be room for anyone else”. Samuel was just grateful for what time he’d had with her and insisted, “He would carry her love with him forever”. That was the only time I’d ever seen Samuel teary-eyed. I remembered thinking how romantic it had sounded.
Sad, but still romantic…
I couldn’t blame Eve for trying. Samuel was such a thoughtful and caring man. Of course, the fact that he was also one of the few, handsome men in the 50 & up bracket with a good job and single, only heightened the value of his date-ability stock. Samuel’s brown skin looked as rich and silky as cocoa (which he called “miner mocha”), and his hair was as black as night, with only a wisp of gray. Now that was new. I thought it made him look distinguished. He, however, begged to differ. My favorite feature was his eyes. They were a deep shade of brown—like a robust cup of coffee and much darker than his skin—but they were hands down the warmest earthy hue I’d ever seen. You couldn’t say no to them. Then again, he couldn’t say no to my baby-blues either. Not his “honorary daughter”. And he was my surrogate father in every way.
Frankly speaking, a girl needed TWO good apple fathers to cancel out the mother who was rotten to the core.
A few roaring yawns later, Samuel was poking down the steps and Daddy was unlocking the front door. I would have loved some of that Daddy-Time I’d been craving, but I didn’t want him busting me smack in the middle of my shameless act. So, I crouched behind his leather chair and hunkered down there quietly until I heard the soft “creak” of his bedroom door coming to a close. Then like a shot from a pistol, I seized my chance for some early morning scoop and rushed outside. Samuel was moving so slow he had barely made it halfway to his Jeep.
“Samuel,” I called out as I hurried to catch him, aiming for an audible whisper.
The gravels Samuel kicked up when he whipped around smacked the air like the rowdy cries of a landslide. “Shiloh Wallace! The chickens ain’t even up yet!” he answered, equally as loud. The suspicious look spinning in his eyes churned faster and faster the closer I stepped. Samuel tilted his head. “What’s got you stewin’?”
I swear that man could smell worry in a cow pasture. “Oh, what do you think?” I countered. I’d been around Samuel long enough to know that a direct approach was the best route to go. All “evasive” or “coy” got you was a frank, drawn-out stare.
“I haven’t heard a thing,” Samuel stated and threw up his right hand. “I swear.”
I locked my arms firmly at my waist. “Nothin’?”
“Nope,” Samuel reiterated and tightened his stance. “Not one iota.”
My head fell into a sharp tilt. “What about the meeting today at three o’clock?”
Samuel glanced at the front porch and let out a laugh. “It seems you’ve been up for a while.”
“I’m just really worried,” I admitted.
“You and the rest of the town,” Samuel replied. “You might as well just put it out of your mind. We’re gonna get our answer soon enough.”
“I know,” I conceded and leaned in for one of his comforting hugs, desperately needing one.
“You’re gonna get coal dust all over you,” Samuel scolded and gave my butt a swift smack. “Go on, Shi. Head on into the house and try to catch ya a few more Z’s before school.”
“All right,” I conceded and turned towards the porch. I’d only taken a couple of steps when a random thought sent me whirling me back around. “Hey,” I called out.
Samuel stopped, twisting only his torso in my direction. “WHAT?”
I grinned. “Don’t forget . . . Someone’s birthday is this Sunday,” I announced.
Samuel rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Oh, I know,” he hollered back with a wink and opened the door of his banged-up old Jeep. “Don’t you worry. I’ll be sure to do something special for whomever that person turns out to be.” Then after one quick slam and a good rev of his engine, Samuel was whipping out of our gravel drive and on his way home.
The harsh “s-q-u-e-a-k” of the front door hinges butchered my nerves. A barrage of worries soon followed the irksome notes, swirling like a relentless twister in my head and weighing heavier than my steps as I moped up the stairs.
My restless night…
My horrible dream…
The looming favor…
The mine…
My father’s job…
Our town…
With all that, I should have known today would be one I would never, EVER forget…
Chapter 2