Time - Chapter 11
Even with coffee running through my system, I had no trouble falling asleep after finishing with the sheets and carrying Veronica to bed.
This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.
In the ashes of her past, she will rise up, and her death will save us all.
Lizzie ran from her past for ten years, zigzagging across the United States every few months, trying to outlast the prophesy that an oracle gave to her when she was just sixteen years old.
But nobody can run from their destiny forever.
After watching her friend brutally gunned down by a group of ruthless demons, she had no choice but to protect the woman’s child, and there was only one place where Lizzie knew the girl would be safe.
Bronard, Missouri.
Home.
She stayed away to protect her parents, but the girl needed mystical protection.
Her parents had taken in magical strays their whole lives, including Lizzie. If anyone could save the poor child’s life, it would be her mother and father.
But will returning to her home doom Lizzie even as she works to save the child she has vowed to defend?
Even with coffee running through my system, I had no trouble falling asleep after finishing with the sheets and carrying Veronica to bed. The last couple of days had been exhausting, mentally, physically, and emotionally, and the farmhouse was the only place I ever truly felt safe.
I never slept well on the road, which made me a good worker because I was always up for a shift, but as I laid in the four-poster bed in the guest room, Veronica asleep in the next room, I felt a decade of exhaustion smash into me at once. I didn’t have to worry that some meth-head would burst in on me or listen to a prostitute and her john in the next room. Instead, there was just quiet, quiet for miles. In that quiet, I found peace.
When I woke up, the sun stung my eyes, and I heard a rooster crow. The stairs creaked outside my room, and I rolled out of bed to find Dad wobbling down the hallway holding Mom’s breakfast on a tray.
“Let me help you with that,” I said, pushing open the door to Mom’s bedroom.
“Come on, then,” he said, placing the breakfast on Junebug’s lap. It wasn’t much, a half a bagel with cream cheese, some milk, and a few cut-up grapes, but she beamed when she saw it.
“Looks delicious,” she said, taking one of the grapes.
“I’m no chef, not like you, my dear.” Dad kissed Mom on the forehead. “But I make due. Betsy says hello. Sends her love.”
“Did you already go into town this morning?” I asked.
“Of course. I go every morning. Only fresh bagels are good enough for my Junebug.”
“You spoil me, love,” Mom said slowly as she took a tiny bite. “Poppy seed. Yummy as ever.”
“Well, I would love to waste the day with you, my dear, but chores call,” Carl said with a smile. “Until we meet again.”
“No, don’t worry about all that right now,” I butted in. “Rest, both of you. I’m back home. I’ll do the chores.”
“Sure you can handle it?” Dad said, but he didn’t need to be told twice. He slid off his shoes and then into bed next to my mother.
“Any of it changed in a decade?”
He shook his head. “That’s the beauty of this place. Nothing changes ‘cept the seasons.”
I rushed down the stairs to see a middle-aged man with a shiny, jolly face wearing a set of blue scrubs. “I’ll be off now, Car—” He caught sight of me. “Oh, hello. You must be Lizzie, right? Carl talked about you…a lot.”
I nodded. “And you’re Johnny?”
He held out his hand, and I shook it. “I am.”
“Thanks for taking such good care of my mom.”
“Happy to do it.” He smiled. “Junebug is a real special woman. I’m glad I got to know her.”
I choked on my emotions, and I turned to the back door. “Me too.”
Choring was like riding a bike. Once you learned the ropes, your muscles never forgot the motion. I started with milking the cows before feeding the chickens, then walked the lines, spraying the corn and looking for defects until the morning watering started, then I leaped back to fill the straw for the cows and pluck the eggs from the chicken coup.
By the time I went back inside, I smelled like a foot, but a sweaty, accomplished foot. Dad must have heard me come in because not long after, he crept down the stairs just as I finished placing the basket of eggs on the dining room table for inspection.
“Nice haul this morning,” he said, ambling over. “Put them in the fridge. I’ll bring them to Betsy tomorrow morning.”
“I can do it,” I said. “How much do you get for them?”
He shrugged. “We keep a tab for pastries at this point. Money’s not much good on the farm these days, and with your mother sick, I get more out of the pastries anyway.”
“Daaad—” I started to lecture him about in-kind bartering but cut myself off. Who was I to judge? They made it to old age and deserved their eccentricities. “I need to go into town anyway, so I can bring them when I pick up new clothes for the kid and me.”
“What kind of person doesn’t bring clothing when they travel?”
“I had clothes and a wad of cash waiting for me in the motel when I saved the girl, but since then, we’ve just been traveling.” I looked out the front window at the Buick that sat in the yard. “Speaking of, you know anyone who needs a car and will be real discrete about chain of title?”
He nodded. “I’ll give you a number. He’ll chop it up and use it for parts. Meanwhile, there’s plenty of clothing in your closet upstairs if you wanna look at it. We haven’t thrown anything away.”
I chuckled. “I appreciate that, but I’m through my Goth phase, I think, and Veronica’s too small for them just yet.”
“Well, bring them into town anyway. Dana’s kid has been after us for years to sell that stuff. Says it’s vintage. Might be able to get some coin for it.” He sighed, taking in a good, long look at me. “I know you’re adopted, but you really do look just like your mother.”
I chuckled. “She’s white. I’m Black. You’re losing it, old man.”
“Maybe that’s it. Anyway, I think she might have some clothes that would fit you. That way, you don’t smell like a cow going into town.” He reached into his pocket and pulled a credit card from his wallet. “You can put the clothes on this card. They shouldn’t give you any guff about it once they figure out who you are.”
“You don’t have to—” I started before Dad held up his hand.
“Least I can do.” Tears welled in his eyes. “Please, let me do this for my daughter.”
I took the card. “Thanks, Dad.”
The center of town was about twenty minutes from our farm if you drove with a lead foot, thirty if you respected the speed limit. There was a time when I could tear around bends at full-tilt boogie speed, but I didn’t have the same feel for the roads anymore, so Veronica and I made it in a little closer to a half-hour. My dad might have made it in fifteen, especially in his prime.
My mom’s old store, Dessertations, sat at the end of a quaint strip of town that also held Dana’s Dress Barn, a sheriff station annex, and a smoked meats bar-b-que. It made me smile that it was still standing even if my mother couldn’t. It was her legacy.
“Let’s go,” I said to Veronica, who was already out of the car. I grabbed her hand in mine, holding the eggs with the other, and walked into the store. I was expecting to see Betsy but instead found a baby-faced man whose nose was covered in dough.
“Morning, ladies. Welcome to Dessertations! What can I do for you?” he said, then peered closer at us. “My, you two must be from out of town because I don’t recognize you at all.”
“It’s been a decade, Ed, but I haven’t changed that much, have I?” I replied. “How’s your mother? She in?”
“She only comes in the early morning these days.” Ed smiled at me and squinted closely. “Oh my goshness, is that little Lizzie back from the dead?”
“I was never dead, Ed,” I replied. “And this is Veronica.”
He spun from around the counter and hugged me tightly, pluming flour between us. “So good to see you again.” He shook Veronica’s hand. “And nice to meet you, little one. Your mom is a bit of a legend around here.”
“She’s not my mother,” Veronica said flatly. “My mom’s dead.”
“Oh.” His face dropped. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“We all are.” I slid in front of Veronica and held up the basket of eggs. “Carl says you have an arrangement for these?”
Ed took the basket. “Your family really does have the best eggs. I don’t know how you do it, but yes.” He walked behind the counter. “Meanwhile, pick anything you want, on the house.”
“What do you think, Veronica?” I said, brushing flour from my mom’s hideous pink flannel shirt. “My mother’s favorite used to be eclairs.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s like a long donut with gooey cream inside, topped with chocolate.”
Her eyes got big. “I want that.”
“Make that two.” I smiled. “I love that you have kept this place the same even after all these years.”
Ed dipped down into the glass counter. “Well, your mother was an institution. When she sold the shop to my mom, Mom promised to keep that tradition alive, and then when I took over last year, it had already been standing for two decades and—well, let’s just say if I tried to change it now, there would be an uprising.”
I took the eclairs from Ed and gave one to Veronica. “Thanks, Ed. I guess I’ll see you around.”
“I sure do hope so.”
We sat outside and ate our eclairs. They were just as delicious as I remembered. I’ve had a thousand eclairs in a hundred towns, and Mom’s recipe was still the best. Veronica must have thought so, too, because even with her small frame, she finished the whole éclair, then licked her fingers clean of all the sticky goodness.
After finishing our sweets, we had enough sugar to tackle Dana’s Dress Barn. Dana never liked my mother, but I got along fine with her daughter Jennifer when we were in school, which gave me hope that she wouldn’t be a heartless shrew like her mother.
“Are you serious?” Jennifer said as we slammed the clothes on the counter. She dug through my old clothes with relish. “This is like the mother lode. I’ve been dying to get Junebug to sell this to me forev—” That’s the moment she saw my face behind the mountain of clothing. “Oh my god! Is that really you, Lizzie?”
I nodded. “It’s me.”
“It’s so good to see you!” She shouted before pointing at Veronica. “And who’s your little helper here?”
“This is Veronica. She’s not mine. I’m just babysitting right now.”
“Hey!” Veronica protested. “I’m not a baby.”
I nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m watching her right now, is what I meant.”
Jennifer shook her head at both of us. “Well, the two of you look a fright. Luckily, I have a cure for what ails ya. Best selection of threads in three counties.”
I glanced around the store and had to admit that it had promise. Gone were the gaudy styles of the old dress barn, replaced with modern looks and sleek aesthetics. “Thank god you got rid of the mom jeans.”
“Oh god, hon,” Jennifer said. “They were the first thing to go. Well, go pick out whatever you want, and then I’ll square up what’s left over when you’re done.”
I picked out enough clothes for a week before turning my attention to Veronica. She was harder to shop for, but after an hour, we had a selection of shirts, pants, shoes, and underwear enough to get her wherever Kimberly was going to take her. I wanted her to have something from me since after she left my care. I would likely never see her again.
I felt a little guilty putting so much on Dad’s credit card, but if he wanted to buy us clothes, who was I to argue. Once the new clothes were purchased, Jennifer reached into her drawer and handed me $100 for the clothes I brought in.
“This is too much, Jennifer,” I said when she put it in my hands and closed it around me. “No way my clothes are worth that much.”
She shook her hands. “I owed you from back in high school. Consider this my repayment, with interest.”
Why was everybody being so nice to me today? Was it because I had a little kid with me? I needed the money, so I didn’t argue. I’d lost the rest of my rainy-day fund back in Nevada and used almost all my tips from my last day of work just getting to Bronard. It was nice to have some extra money in my pocket.
The last stop was offloading the car. Dad’s connection was in Maynard, three towns from Bronard, and past the site where the Oracle gave her prophetic vision of my future. When I passed the trailer park, I stopped dead, slamming the brakes on the old car until it skidded to a stop.
Right there, in the middle of the park, walking like she hadn’t destroyed my whole life, was the Oracle, Starr Wolfsong, without a care in the world. She looked a little worse for wear, but it was definitely her. Then a thought flashed across my brain: Maybe she could help me figure out how to help Veronica.
No, she would help me figure out how to help Veronica. It was the least she could do after… And if she wouldn’t, well, part of me hoped she wouldn’t so that I could make her pay for the last decade of my life.
This is a portal fantasy series with mythological roots and action-adventure tendencies. You can search through all my work on my website.