Chapter 36
Clang Clang Clunk Clang
"Whoa there. What's the matter with you? Stop when I tell you to stop."
Brian Haig managed to halt the wagon in front of the store, ready to pick up another delivery of milk. He still held his arm as if it pained him, but Aaron knew it was no longer broken. Doc had finally given in to Aaron's urging and used his Talent to speed the man's healing.
"Cathy. Mister Turner." His voice was tight, guarded. When he looked at Aaron his eyes showed hooded deference and fear.
Aaron nodded from where he sat in his wide chair on the boardwalk outside his rebuilt store. Despite his frequent treatments and Doc Gunther's enthusiastic appraisal, he was not ready to move on his own yet. His bones were no more than half healed, his stitches had only just been pulled, and his body was still fighting off an infection from when the lake water had entered his wounds.
"Howdy," he said while Cathy, sitting beside him, smiled thinly at her husband. Haig gave her a long look and turned his eyes back to Aaron.
"Sir, are you sure about keeping me on? I know I did wrong and--"
Aaron waved for him to stop because, truthfully, he did not like the sound of Haig's voice. Its tones were meek, but it held undercurrents of resentfulness and sullen disrespect.
"No," he said, "I'm not sure, but you are Cathy's husband, and I owe her, so I won't take your job. However, I do have people watching you. If any sign of missing money appears, or if Cathy looks injured, they will pay you a visit that will make our last encounter seem gentle. Now please get back to work."
"Yes sir." Haig's voice almost sounded respectful, but his eyes glowered.
Cathy's gaze lay heavy on Aaron after Haig drove away. "Don't you think you are being a little hard on my husband?"
"I think he was more than a little hard on you. I won't let him hit you again."
"You don't have to worry about that anymore." Cathy patted her apron. "I gave him a demonstration. He is very impressed with me now that he knows what Baby can do. Actually, I think he might be more afraid of me than he is of you."
"Have you threatened him?"
"Not a word of it. I just let him see me practice shooting Baby three days ago. Been meek as a lamb ever since."
Aaron remained silent for a few minutes. "That's no way to run a marriage," he finally said.
"It's my marriage to run, and I don't see where I have all that much choice on how to run it."
Her eyes were big. They glistened with unshed tears and with care and concern. Aaron knew she was thinking of what they had been to each other. She was remembering their nights of holding and talking and the plans she and Sarah had shared between them, plans intended to run Aaron to distraction. Probably, Cathy had not loved him, not the way he had loved and still did love her, but she had truly liked him and now regretted her decision. From the things she had said and the way she hovered around him, constantly brushing her fingers over his arm or adjusting his chair, Aaron had no doubt she would willingly become his lover if he asked it of her.
It was a question he would never raise. Loving and making love to another man's wife in a land where divorce was not allowed was tawdry and low and a sure recipe for heartache and ruined lives. He would not compromise the tattered remnants of honor he had left, and he would never cause Cathy harm because he could not let the thought of her go.
"Here comes Mistress Turner," Cathy said half bitterly. "I think it's time you saw to your own marriage instead of worrying about mine."
She rose, one hand resting on his arm. Her fingers carefully squeezed his tender flesh, and her smile was a lie upon her face. "I will be fine, Mister Turner. My life will be fine. Don't you go wasting your worry on me." She walked away, shoulders stiff with pride, head held high in defiance of the life fate and bad decisions had given her. When he watched her outward strength Aaron wanted to cry because he knew the inside package had become brittle and weak. One small and unexpected blow could easily make her shatter. No, right now Cathy needed to be cared for and looked after, the way she had cared and looked after Missy and Doyle during those difficult years. She needed time for rest and healing, but he did not think she would get either. Brian Haig would not stay tame for very long.
"You don't need to worry after her," Kit said as she settled into the recently vacated chair. "You have a lot of friends, and so does she. They will make sure she stays well. She'll have time to pull herself together."
"In my land," Aaron said, "when matters become difficult in a marriage, one of the two people just walks away. In a year or two they go to a courthouse and have the marriage dissolved."
Kit was quiet for a while, watching the street and the people walking its length. Aaron understood because he loved the view too. He loved to see ordinary people going about the business of living their lives and raising their families. He loved them for those lives, and he ached to be one of them, but the truth was that he was not of their kind. He knew that now. He was different from these people. He could play their games and live his lies among them, but his life and his experiences kept him from living with the simple outlook that was natural for them. Nothing he ever did, no pretense, would allow him to entirely fit in here. He was not sure he would fit in anywhere.
"A man has no need to dissolve a marriage," Kit said. "He can marry as often as he desires. It's us women who are stuck for life."
Her voice was filled with quiet longing. Aaron wanted to console her, but there was nothing he could say that would help. Like Cathy, Kit had tossed her dice, and they had fallen snake eyes.
Clang Clang Clang Clang
"Jorrin's working hard."
"He always works hard," Kit said. Her voice changed. "I saw the doctor again. He said we tried too soon after the trauma of losing Sarah and the baby, so if we tried again I could conceive without a risk of losing the child."
Smiling sadly, Aaron shook his head. "I don't think I'm up to the effort."
Her hand reached out so her fingertips touched his arm. "Aaron, I don't want it at all. I'm sorry, but I don't want more children by you anymore. I hope this doesn't hurt you, but it needs to be said again. I don't love you. I don't want you as part of my life."
Aaron winced. Pain twisted up his belly. So, she did not love him. Not a surprise because it was something he had known all along; she had told him this before, but a part of him did not want to hear the words.
He laughed at himself, silently laughed at his own folly while pain and knots caught in his throat. How could he take this so personally when he did not love her either--but then--he could have loved her. He really could have learned to love her, except she had made it so plain that any love he bore would be carried alone.
"I don't want to hurt you," Kit continued. "You are my husband, and I honor you for that. I admire you, and if I could ever love a man it would be you, but Aaron, I cannot love a man. I don't have it in me. You are my husband, but I would be happier if you were just my friend. Do you understand?"
"Yes," Aaron said, pushing his injured pride and his inner pain back into the cage where they belonged. Reaching out, he covered her hand with his fingers. The healing bones in his wrist gave a twinge of warning but no more because he was always careful how he moved. "Yes, I do understand. You are saying no sex."
She winced. "That is a rather blunt way of putting it."
"This is a rather blunt subject, and I agree with you."
And he did agree because he wanted the same thing she did, but their agreement touched on a well of sadness inside him. An absent husband who was a friend and no longer a lover soon became ancient history. He knew this, and he could see in her eyes that she knew it too.
Kit shifted slightly in her chair when her wrist twisted beneath his hand, and her fingers wrapped around his. Squeezing his fingers slightly, her eyes fastened on the two Wiggins boys shouting halfway down the street because they looked as if they were about to fight. Moments later Mistress Wiggins rushed out of the bank and grabbed
both of them. The subsequent cries were far worse than the punishment she meted out deserved.
Kara Perkins stepped out of the store. Wearing a flour-dusted apron and looking nervous, Steven Knight followed her.
"You'll do fine," Perk said. "It's really easy. After all, Mister Turner managed to run the thing, and if I ever saw a man more incompetent for the job than that fellow I can't remember who he is."
Aaron snorted and studied his friend. "Thanks."
Changing worlds had been good for Perk, he decided. Though she had always been fit and trim, she now appeared even more so, and a new air of competence surrounded her. She seemed to have a newfound faith in her abilities. Now that she was the teacher instead of the student, she was discovering just how much she had to give.
Of course, Aaron contemplated, being fabulously rich probably helped her attitude quite a bit too. With all the silver bars she had brought over she never had to worry about paying the rent.
Knight needed playful encouragement from her foot before he went back into the store. Once he was inside Perk stepped over Kit's outstretched feet, maneuvered past Aaron, and sat in the chair on the other side of him.
"I swear, that boy is more trouble than he is worth. Always dogging my heels and all the time sniffing, sniffing, sniffing. He wants a quick lay so bad it's embarrassing."
Laughing gently, Kit leaned forward so she could see past Aaron. Her finger pointed at Perk.
"Miss Perkins, you are one clueless person. Mister Knight is interested in something more permanent than a quick roll. From the conversations I have overheard, Mister Knight is very interested."
Perk groaned dramatically. "Gawds, just what I need, a tail wagging puppy chasing after my heels."
"It isn't your heels he is chasing after," Kit grinned.
Perk mock glared at the two of them. "He better be after more than my heels. If he is panting, he better be panting after the right thing."
Aaron tried not to laugh. It hurt to laugh.
"Maybe after he gets the store rolling along he'll attract enough attention from the ladies that he will leave you alone," he said.
Now Perk did glare. "He better not attract more attention. A man wants to chase after me, he better not pay much mind to anyone else. I won't have none of this one man three million women stuff. No sir. Any lover I have better stay loyal to just one person and that person is me." She looked pensive for a moment as her eyes saw something invisible on the distant horizon. "I tried it the other way a few times. I won't try it again."
Her expression softened and then firmed into something else. "Now that you have sold most everything you own, what are you going to do with yourself?"
Kit sat up straight. "Sold everything?"
"In a manner of speaking," Perk said. "The going rate appears to be four gold. You should have seen Missy when she found out she owned the inn. I helped Aaron stagger over to the bank yesterday so he could make the legal changes. By the way, congratulations on owning the Manor. You owe me four gold 'cause I paid Aaron for you. He also dropped four pounds of silver into your account. Kit, you are a well off woman in your own name now."
Sadness welling in her eyes, Kit looked at Aaron. She knew.
"Aaron, what about the kids?"
"I'll drop in," Aaron promised, acting as if he had known what he wanted all along. His decision to leave Last Chance for a time had only come to him with the arrival of the letter in his pocket. His decision to make the separation permanent had occurred only the day before. "I have my way of doing that after all. I don't want to be a stranger to my children."
"Your children by me, not by Sarah." Kit's regretful smile said she knew there was a difference.
"My children," Aaron said firmly. "Kit, keep my obligation to the farmers on the Manor. Remember, they get the land after ten years."
"I won't compromise your word, Aaron. I respect you too much for that."
Yes, Aaron thought. We do have that in common. We respect each other. Unfortunately, respect was not enough to build a marriage on. He wanted more, wanted something Kit could not provide. This knowledge showed in her moist eyes, but nothing in them said that she had any give in her attitude. So yes, he was walking away because their marriage was a pretense, a sham. If they tried to force matters, their respect for one another would fade in a few short years. Shortly afterwards they would grow to hate one another. One of the reasons he was leaving was to never give that hate a chance to grow. Kit's eyes told him that she understood.
After the two women left Aaron stayed in his chair, watching the sun set on a caring town. People passed by; some stopped to chat. Businesses closed their doors for the evening, their owners locking them firmly with a key before settling their hats and heading down the boardwalk on their way to a sound home and family. Mistress Banks walked by with her elbow held firmly in the grip of Mistress Moody while they discussed the possibility of bringing Mistress Banks into the family. Passing him, they paused for a moment to give him a friendly nod. Aaron smiled. These were good people. They cared about him just as he cared about them. He loved each and every one of them.
He loved them, but he did not love them enough to make living in Last Chance palatable to his scarred soul. There was too much loss here; too many happy memories had turned sour. Besides, this was no longer the town he had learned to love. Over the past year Last Chance had changed its character. People had left, and other people had arrived. Mistress Golard was no longer Mayor because the newcomers had voted in one of their own. Aaron did not like that idea. You could never be too sure who new people really were deep inside their skins until they had time to prove themselves.
Catching the direction of his thoughts, he snorted in self-derision. It had not been so long ago when he was new himself.
Cathy looked quite proper as she left the inn and walked over to open the Emporium for the evening. She smiled at him with an open, friendly smile. Behind that smile, hidden by her eyes, was secret pain, and her hand fumbled when she tried to open the Emporium's door.
Aaron remembered her crying over him, and he wondered if perhaps some small part of her loved him after all. Maybe the part that loved him wasn't so very small.
She was married. Cathy was another reason why he should leave.
Well, N'Ark should be distant enough for even the most critical of town wags. He would go there as Miss Bivins' letter had requested. During the last several months she had been very busy on his behalf and now matters were beginning to roll along. According to her letter his presence was needed for a few weeks if she were ever going to get his affairs smoothed out.
Well, the indomitable Miss Bivins was in for a surprise. He was going to N'Ark for more than a few weeks. He was going to make N'Ark his home and never come to Last Chance again. No, once he finally left, the closest he would ever come to the town would be when he visited the Manor and his children.
He closed his eyes as the last rays of the sun settled into the west. Thoughts of Sarah and the laughter they had shared ran through his mind, and this time he did not push her memory away. He brought up a memory of her sitting in his rocker, Ernest in her arms. Rocking peacefully, Sarah smiled gently at Aaron, telling him how much she loved their lives and how much she loved him. Sad, contemplative, Aaron wrapped his thoughts around her. She had been his wife and his love, but she had been much, much more. She had been a warrior and a justice maker, and she had been strong. If she were here to know of it, Sarah would be disgusted with his melancholy turn. She would berate him, kick him in the butt, and tell him to get on with his life because life was getting on without him.
And she would be right. It was time for him to get on with his life.
Footsteps sounded from inside the store. Steven Knight stepped out on the walkway and smiled at Aaron as he began sweeping the day's dust off the worn boards.
Clang Clang Clang Clang
Jorrin's lights were on in the smithy. He was a stubborn one, was Jorrin. He was always the last to quit on any
evening.
Clang Clang Clung Clang
Steven stopped his sweeping for a moment and smiled at Aaron, leaning on his broom while his eyes roamed the street as the town shut down around them.
"I have to admit, Mister Turner, this is one of my favorite times of day. I like it when I open the store and get to watch the town come to life, but I like to watch it go back to sleep better." Straightening, he began sweeping once more. Dust and dirt rose gently in the air. "Yes sir, I like to watch it shut down, and I like to sweep the walk clean. It's soothing, and it sort of means that everything is done, but I get to sweep it again in the morning, and that tells me that everything is beginning all over again. Feels like everything from before is gone, and only the new is ahead of me."
Aaron smiled and closed his eyes.
Cathy began singing inside the Emporium. She sang a song of dark moody stanzas. She sang low and slow, and her voice broke near the end of her last words. Her song spoke of lost love, broken dreams, and a home torn by endless strife.
The tremor in her voice was as tragic as the song she sung.
Aaron listened, and he mourned with tearless eyes until Jorrin finished working and crossed the street to help Aaron stand and accompany him to the empty house where Aaron lived.
Epilogue
Sneering, Delmac listened while the Balandice woman explained the proposed terms of the treaty. It seemed fair, seemed just, but he was no fool. Words were nothing but air. Actions counted, and he had no doubt Isabella's actions would lean towards the peaceful destruction of his people. Within the next few years his people would be smothered under laws, custom, and treaties that stole their land, delegating his entire race to a few tracts of worthless land.
Birsae had promised more. She had promised a savior, the Chosen, and the Chosen had come, only they were not saved. They were trapped in a hell of their own making because they'd listened to a shaman and a madman.
Delmac waited while the other leaders had their turn, and then he set his mark beneath Tremon's on the piece of paper because he had no choice. Any other action would mean instant disaster instead of a slow decline. After all, there was still time. All was not lost. The Chosen might save them yet.
It had been promised.
Mark Eller has been exiled to a dank basement cavern by his wife, Daneen, because that is the only way he can ignore the distractions of family and eight parrots enough to be able to write. While trapped within his cave, in addition to writing short stories and books, he has recorded and released two audio podcasts, God Wars, a dark fantasy trilogy found at The Hell Hole Tavern, and Mercy Bend, a compilation of twisted tales. Both podcasts can be found at i-tunes. God Wars was written and recorded with Mark's partner, Elizabeth Drapper.
Mark has been published by a number of magazines, both on-line and in print, discovering along the way that in certain segments he has been classified as a horror writer, much to his surprise. He enjoys reading fantasy, science fiction, and mystery, but also has a strong preference for reading about archeology and history.
Mark invites you to visit his website at https://www.hellholetavern.com, or drop in to see him on my space at https://www.myspace.com/markeller. He can also be found at https://www.twitter.com under the name Mark Eller. If none of those options are exciting enough, you can e-mail him at
[email protected] if you have questions or just want to say hi.
Photograph by Darren Oxford, Oxford Photography
www.oxfordphoto.com
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