Linked Through Time (11 page)

Travis couldn’t hide his disappointment at his obvious effort to get me alone. He shrugged his shoulders and let Dean lead the way. The two vanished into the thick of the woods, Travis shooting me one last look over his shoulder. I offered up a smile, even as an ache formed in the pit of my stomach.

Travis seemed wonderful – too good to be true, but then, so had Dave. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to get involved with anyone. Besides, I didn’t know how much time I had left before I went back. My main goal, the only thing I should be focused on, was staying alive. Anything else just interfered with fate, and I was already pushing the limits at that.

* * * *

I spent the whole next morning worrying if Travis would show. I knew the best thing for me would be to avoid any more relationships, but I couldn’t help thinking how sweet Travis was, how adorable his dimples looked when he smiled his goofy smile. It was pitiful, how easily I fell in and out of love, not that I loved Travis… yet. A guilty smile crept its way up to my cheeks and I blushed. Grateful no one was around to diagnose my lovesick thoughts, I immersed myself in the task for the day, hoping for any distraction.

Back and forth, I hauled firewood from the massive
pile Grandpa had brought back from logging in the woods and stacked it into long, even rows in the basement. Miniature doors covered a small opening cut into the walls of the basement, offering me a shortcut to jump through and get inside. Beneath the house, in the dark, dank basement I shuffled wall to wall, stacking the wood from the uneven dirt floor to the eaves of the ceiling. The colossal cinder block wood stove in the center of the room stood as the house’s only source of heat. I knew the pile outside was only the beginning of what needed to be hauled to survive the frigid winter.

I wished desperately for some music to listen to – a little Usher, or Jay-Z, something with a beat that could make the workload easier. Every chore around the farm, when done long enough, became a mind-numbing task I completed like a robot. Grateful to Dean for taking my share of animal duty, I knew I had no right to complain. I wasn’t knee-deep in manure any more and I didn’t have to face the hulking cows or pigs. Still, I hadn’t made a dent in the pile outside and I had several splinters imbedded in my hands.

Poking my head through the opening in the wall, I squinted into the bright sunlight. The basement smelled damp and of mildew, and spiders darted through the piles of wood. I took my time crawling through the opening and walking across the field to load my arms with more wood. The less time I spent in the hole, the better.

Lurching under the weight of five pieces of firewood piled high in my arms, I screeched as a chicken entangled itself between my feet, scuttling out of the way at the last minute as the wood tumbled from my arms and landed with a thud on the ground. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I swore under my breath. Stupid brainless chicken. I ran at the chicken, waving my arms, causing it to squawk and flap its wings in protest. Clucking at me in dismay, it waddled away, leaving me to fume beside the scattered firewood.

Louise emerged on the path next to the family garden, her hair flying in disarray as she ran for the house. “Sarah! Sarah! Come quick!” she cried, her voice high and shrill. Her bare feet beat a path straight through the picket fence gate; she never paused to see if I would follow.

I left the wood and hurried after her. Something was wrong. I could hear Louise screeching from inside, her voice peaked at an all-time high. Sprinting across the yard, I burst through the screen door and into the kitchen, stopping dead in my tracks at the sight of Louise pulling frantically on Gran’s arm, tears streaming down her face.

Gran’s face was white, the lovely pink tones and summer tan vanished in her apparent shock at what Louise was saying. The twins crawled merrily around the floor, winding their way through Gran’s legs, playing with an old rusty truck that was missing a wheel. Joyce and Janice sat at the table, their plump legs swinging freely. The pair shelled peas and chatted as if they were little old women, their tiny fingers popping open the green shells with ease.

Gran grabbed Louise by the shoulders and shook her, trying to snap Louise out of her hysterics. “Where is he?” she demanded.

“Who?” I asked, feeling like an outsider.

Louise pulled Gran to the door. “Rodney’s bringing him. They’re coming up from the backfields. You have to hurry!”

“Sarah, you’re in charge until I get back,” Gran instructed as she fled the kitchen.

“Wait! What?” I shouted at their retreating backs.

Confusion and fear turned the room into chaos as the twins began to cry at the disappearance of Gran, and Joyce and Janice rapidly fired questions at me as to what had happened. I couldn’t bear waiting in the kitchen, not knowing. Scooping the wailing twins into my arms, I rushed through the door and plopped the girls into the lush green of the fenced yard. In the distance, I could hear shouts and wailing.

Louise, barely able to see over the dashboard of the rattling family car, was backing out of the garage and across the open field to the dirt drive behind the garden. Then, I saw them.

Rodney, strong capable Rodney, was carrying someone down the drive and placing them in the back of the car. Gran was ripping the clothing away from the writhing body as they squeezed into the car.

Bobby. No one else had that much height on Rodney. It was Bobby’s screams and cries I could hear. Rodney jumped into the driver’s seat, forcing Louise to the side. Bobby lay in the back unseen.

Dirt flew into the air and gravel spit forth from the tires as Rodney accelerated past the farmhouse and down the driveway. My heart in my throat, I could only speculate what would cause such a reaction.
Oh, God
, I found myself praying,
Not Bobby, please don’t let anything happen to Bobby.

Matthew, Patrick, and Dean appeared on the horizon, their usual carefree banter gone, lost in the wake of whatever had happened. I left the twins and raced to the three boys, who all had their heads down, their eyes red-rimmed from crying.

I grabbed Dean, forcing him to look at me. “What happened? Dean! What happened?” Fear closed my throat when I saw Dad’s expression. His eyes echoed pain and disbelief.

Dad’s freckles stood out against his pale face and he struggled to form a single word. “Bobby.”

Matthew spoke then, a tremor shaking his words. “Bobby’s burned. Real bad. He took a cap off the tractor too quick and the steam blew up all over him. He’s burned all over.”

I shuddered. The three boys looked to me for direction, waiting to see my reaction. Should I cry? Hold myself together? And where had they taken him? It wasn’t like the family could afford a doctor. It felt as if a weight had settled on my shoulders; the realization that I was in charge of the family and the farm sent me reeling. My mind fumbled from one thought to the next. What if Bobby died? What if Gran was gone all day? What was I supposed to do? Would I have to cook dinner? Would Bobby be horribly disfigured? How do I change a diaper?

The twins. I snapped to attention, searching the yard frantically for the wandering duo. Spotting them picking dandelions with Joyce and Janice, I sighed wearily. I couldn’t take care of a family. I could barely take care of myself.

Sheets billowed in the breeze, snapping and tangling together on the clothesline. Laundry had to be folded and brought in.
Chickens wandered aimlessly in the yard, pecking and scratching the pebbly ground. Animals have to be fed and watered. The seven siblings left behind lay sprawled in the grass, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun. They will all be hungry soon. Water will have to be hauled for cooking and cleaning. Someone will have to light the fire in the wood stove
.
The list in my mind seemed endless and overwhelming. I didn’t know how to do half of those things.

I ran my fingers through my hair and took a deep breath. I have to be confident, brave. I can’t let the younger children be scared
.

In the distance, a brown pick-up truck turned into the drive. Clouds of dust billowed into the air in the truck’s wake, swirling and descending on the innocent cattle grazing at the side of the road. I groaned.
Now what?

Moving closer to the girls, I stood protectively over the twins, arms crossed on my chest. I didn’t have time for visitors, not now. Eyeing the unfamiliar truck, I waited uneasily for the visitor to come into view.

Relief flooded my senses when I saw the familiar, lean figure emerge. Travis. Without thinking, I ran to him and threw my arms around his neck, sending our bodies colliding together and into the side of his truck. Travis couldn’t hide his surprise and pleasure at my exuberant welcome. He held onto me fiercely, seeming to relish the feel of my body pressed to his.

When I pushed away, the tears I’d been desperate to hold in flowed freely from my eyes, spilling down my cheeks.

Travis frowned, puzzled at my conflicting display of emotions. “Sarah? What’s wrong?” Smoothing the hair from my face, he leaned down to look directly in my eyes.

Confused for just a moment at the mention of Sarah’s name, I paused to recollect my thoughts before revealing the fears and frustrations that had multiplied in a matter of minutes. “It’s Bobby. He’s hurt. Everyone left, I guess for the hospital, and they left me here alone with this,” I choked out, waving my hand at the seven children scattered in the yard. “I can’t take care of the children and the animals, or even the cooking!” I wailed.

Travis pulled me into the folds of his flannel shirt. “I’m sorry to hear about Bobby,” he murmured. “I’m here, now. Everything will be OK,” he said, stroking my hair. “I don’t know one thing about farming, but I imagine the two of us can figure it out. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it. Let me help.”

My vision blurred with fresh tears. “Really? You’d do that?” Even without him answering, I knew he would be there for me. The gentle expression and genuine concern etched on his face left no doubt of the sincerity of his feelings for me. A soothing calm washed over me as I leaned against Travis for support. His warmth penetrated my being and covered my fears like a blanket. Travis was here. Everything would be all right.

The next few hours passed quickly, with little time to worry about Bobby. I carried the twins between the house and yard with each new task, careful not to leave them too long under the supervision of the other siblings. Travis, Matthew and Patrick went into the fields, prepping the animals to be brought in for the night. They hauled feed and water, locked up the chickens and cleaned the barn. Dean helped in the house. I sent him out to the garden to pick fresh vegetables for dinner and he returned with arms full of radishes, carrots, beans, and kohlrabi.

             
Dean started the wood stove and stoked the flames to keep it alive while I searched the basement for canned goods to heat up in a pan.

When the boys tramped in from outside, I noted their casual, rowdy teasing had begun anew; Travis at the center of the jostling bunch. For a moment, I pretended Travis was coming home to me, our family and the dinner I had worked so hard to present. A rare sense of pride welled deep within me, the source coming from all of my recent accomplishments – things I’d never had to do in my other life.

The twins were happy and, more importantly, dry, as I had attempted my first diaper change, with cloth diapers no less. The kitchen remained tidy despite my rookie cooking efforts, and the laundry lay folded in a pile in the corner.

The table had plenty of room with so many missing, and there wasn’t any grabbing, kicking, or jabbing of forks in an effort to get plenty of food. Travis sat at the head of the table, his tall frame fitting the part perfectly, and again, I imagined the two of us playing husband and wife. Everyone ate quickly, giving me little time to watch Travis interact with the others. Admiring his soft features and boyish good looks, a guilty blush colored my cheeks as our eyes connected across the table.

Caught red-handed, I turned my eyes to my plate, not wanting Travis to see the raw beginnings of the crush I had for him developing with each minute spent together. His gentle kindness and patience with the youngest siblings made him even more desirable. He cut meat for the twins into tiny toddler pieces and wiped up milk when Joyce’s cup clattered to the floor. If the kitchen had been any quieter, I was sure the rest of them would be able to hear the rapid beat of my heart. Travis had walked into my life and stolen my heart in less than twenty-four hours. Unbelievable.

The meager meal went without complaints. My quick answer to supper had been baked potatoes with butter, the fresh vegetables Dean had collected from the garden, and canned venison I found on the shelves in the basement. I ate the venison without a second thought. Hunger was a dominant force after working long days outside. I knew for a fact that as large as the family was, and in their current financial struggle, there were many times they ate whatever the boys could shoot. That included squirrels, rabbits, deer, porcupine, grouse, and even turtle. Beef, chicken, and fish were considered luxuries, and only served on Sundays or special days, so venison was the least of the questionable meals.

After supper, Travis played marbles with the boys while I readied the twins for bed. The girls, finally accepting me as their caregiver, cooed and gurgled as I changed them into pajamas. Nuzzling their cheeks, I marveled at the smoothness of their skin. Babies had always been a nuisance to me, but something in the way Laura and Linda looked at me, with absolute trust in their eyes, melted my heart. Placing them in their crib, I caught myself yawning, once…twice… and a third time. Watching the twins snuggle deep into their soft, cotton sheets, their eyes heavy lidded and dreamy, made the weight of the day’s physical and emotional struggle come crashing down on my weary shoulders.