The mansion once sat proudly on the hill. Over the years, the lack of care allowed the paint to chip, the shingles to grey, and the wooden beams to sag ever so slightly under the passing of dozens of seasons of spring rains. Now it looked out indifferently, and the orchard next to it had long since given up the desire to clothe the valley in brilliant shades of green. The comings and goings of the family line that called the mansion their home were of no concern to either of them, even less so as the family shrunk and dwindled down to become the inheritance of an acrid widow and her son, who were now driving up that hill.
The car, on the other hand, harbored an active resentment for the widow. Ostensibly it made its way up, hitting every pothole and puddle in quiet protest to the cruel treatment of her heeled, lead-weighted toes upon its pedals. With every bounce and jostle she cursed under her breath, gripping the wheel with the resolve usually observed in knights holding their swords while riding into battle. The son, Alfred, fidgeted the knobs on the radio, but to no avail. No station’s signal reached out this far out from civilization before the war, and despite the urgency with which war reports and broadcasts were being sputtered out to every wire and antenna across the country, out here they never will.
All of this continued much the same as it would on every weekend, for the clockwork scheduled trip into town, but this time was different; no road, pothole, or muttered oath of a bitter aunt was familiar to the boy riding silently in the back seat, fingers pressed up against the window. Jack felt a very long way from home.
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“Be good now, Jack, mind your aunt” were his mother’s parting words at the station, in the hour before he had been sent to parts unknown. She seemed uncomfortable with the prospect of leaving their darling son in the company of her older, hardened sister. Her fingers squeezed and toyed nervously with the hem of her jacket, and her eyes pleaded silently when they met with Jack’s father’s.
“Sarah, we talked about this. He’ll be safer there.”
Jack’s father, Titus, put his hand on Sarah’s shoulder. He towered in the eyes of the boy, and carried a quiet reassurance in the way that he carried himself and talked. The uniform of a military doctor fit him well, and the doctor’s armband for women volunteers that his mother wore emanated the calm authority of all the knowledge and care that stood behind it. As the three of them knelt near the train, the eyes of the passerby looked upon them as heroes. Jack clenched his suitcase handle and looked away.
“Jack.” His father said again, turning reassuringly from his wife’s eyes down to meet his son’s. “Your mother and I have talked about this, and we want you to be somewhere that we know you’ll be safe. You can make friends with Alfred, and you’ll be able to play in the orchard… I know that you’ll miss things here, but while we are gone we want you to be safe.”
“When will you come to get me?” Jack bit his lip and looked up at his parents, trying to look strong despite the prickling of tears starting to well up in his eyes. He silently cursed them, trying to force them away. If his parents could be brave, and help their country, then he could be brave too.
“They don’t know what kind of virus it is yet. We have an idea, but your mother and I…” Sarah had grabbed Titus’s arm, a startled look in her eyes cutting his sentence short. “… Your mother and I have been asked to help our country by saving lives. In times like these, of all the things we could do, this is the greatest thing. “
“We’ll be back before you know it,” Sarah said as she pulled Jack in and kissed his forehead, running her fingers through his hair as she always would. “Your aunt Miriam and cousin Alfred will be happy to see you, you’ll see.” The train’s steam engine churned to life, and the conductor who had been patiently waiting for them to finish their goodbye nodded to Titus. This train would wait, for a war hero. Titus picked up Jack and lifted him up over his shoulder one more time, and looked at his son.
“Jack, you are your father’s son,” Jack and Titus grinned like they always did. His grandmother had said that once, long ago, and it always made him smile, though he didn’t understand why.
“You will grow up to be big and strong, someday.”
“I know.”
“You have to be brave, and do what’s right.”
“I know, papa.”
“And your mother loves you, and I love you, and we will see you soon.”
“…I love you too, papa.”
They embraced one last time, tears welling up in all their eyes now. The clouds overhead held off seemingly for this moment, and started to let down their carried rain. Titus set Jack down on the steps of the train and handed him his suitcase, and Sarah fixed the collar of his shirt beneath his jacket one last time. They kissed Jack and stepped away, and the train started to slowly lumber off. Jack took his seat, and as he left, his mother kissed his father’s cheek and they all waved goodbye.
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It had been half a day since then, but it seemed like an eternity. The train stopped at the appointed station, but Miriam gazed sternly at the engine, the conductor, and the passengers in the windows as they rolled by, until the train came to a halt. They were ten minutes late.
“That’s him?” Alfred sneered, “he’s only half my size!” Miriam grabbed Jack’s suitcase and lifted him almost off the ground as she helped him off the steps of the train and onto the aging, crumbling concrete of Wetherbee station.
“Mind your manners, Alfred, he is to be our guest.” Though spoken in a normal tone, it carried all the weight of a barked order. Miriam’s voice carried a weight that was not to be questioned, misunderstood, or require being repeated. For the quiet people of Wetherbee and the surrounding countryside, her word was law. They marched to the car in silence. When Jack and Alfred’s eyes met, Alfred stuck his tongue out.
After loading his suitcase into the trunk of the car, Miriam spun around and leaned her face close to Jack’s. These were words he was meant to remember; she spoke slowly and clearly.
“Jack, your staying with us is a favor to your mother; we don’t live as extravagantly as you’re used to, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to be living with us as a prince. You will help Alfred with the chores, you will mind your own business, and above all else—“ She cocked her head slightly to the side as the words coiled and hissed through her lips, “ She cocked her head slightly to the side as the words coiled and hissed through her lips, “you WILL do as I tell you. There will be none of this over-indulgent affection that your mother seems to love.”
....to be continued.
