A Gentle Soul

This story started to write itself after the second of my three eye surgeries. I filled it out a bit today, and feel the need to post it and get some feedback. It has not gone to my editor, so blame all the errors on my shoddy proofreading. Of course, let me know if it is something you want to see more of. It will not be worked on weekly, but I might be able to get a chapter up every month or two: Dawn.

“Jeremiah! Have you finished practicing your archery?”

“Yes father,” a thin voice replied from inside the house.

“Sword practice? Spear work?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How long did you practice?”

“Ummm, urr. None?” The voice almost dropped to a whisper as the big man strode into the hut.

“WHAT? Why did you say you are finished then?”

“Because I wasn’t planning to do any practice today. So technically I am finished.”

“Don’t you play your little word games with me, boy,” the big man raised his hand to strike the boy as he sat at the spit, rotating the meat.

“STOP! Don’t you dare hit the boy,” his mother screeched from the pot she was stirring. He is a gentle soul.”

The big man stopped in mid swing. Had he connected with full force, he could have knocked the boy clear across the room. The 10-year-old was less than half the size of the man, barely much taller than his seven-year-old brother. He was thin like his two older sisters, while all five of the other brothers were big men like their father or promised to be, like Michael, the seven-year-old.

“How am I to make the boy into a man,” the man whined at his wife, who stood holding her big spoon like a weapon. “He won’t be a farmer. Aron will get the land. He can’t be a priest, although that is what he seems best suited for, as he cannot read and write, or do his cyphers. If he can’t be a soldier for the King or Duke, what is to become of him?”

“He helps me,” he mother retorted. “He turns the spit for his meals, and he tends baby Mary better than his sisters do.” Miriam, the mother, wouldn’t admit it but Jeremiah was her favorite. All the others in the family had the brown hair that most people in the valley had, but Miriam and Jeremiah had jet black hair, though there were some streaks of gray in her hair. Her son wore his hair long: not as long as a girl, but just touching his shoulders, or a bit past. The prince wore his hair that way, apparently (not that any in the family had ever been within miles of the prince) so Moses, the father, was unable to complain about Jeremiah’s hair. Well, until it had edged a bit past the shoulders, as it had recently. Miriam just hated cutting the beautiful black locks, so much prettier than his sisters. His pale white complexion just magnified the pretty look: his brothers and sisters spent most of their hours outside in the hot sun, while Jeremiah was usually indoors with his mother and the baby.

Moses finally stalked out of the house, muttering about ‘the boy.’ As he reached the path at the edge of his holding, he saw mounted men approaching. There were five men, or more correctly, four men and a boy of about 16 years. The boy was clearly in charge, and Moses recognized him with a groan. It was the Squire to the Knight, and an Earl in his own right, and son of the Duke. He was spending his apprenticeship years with Sir John, one of the Duke’s best war knights, learning the art of warfare from the best in the kingdom, and learning leadership and estate management at the same time.

“My lord,” Moses said, bowing deeply.

“Rise Goodman,” the boy said. His voice was still high, and occasionally cracked, but he clearly showed his leadership skills. “You may not have heard, but the King is planning a war in the south again this year, and he has called on his nobles for support. The Duke, my father, has sent word out to the knights of the shires for support as well, and I am here to gather what I can from this valley.”

“We have no coin, sire,” Moses replied.

“We were not expecting coin from places such as this,” the young squire said. “You have a barn? Hay? Can you spare 10 bales?”

“Ten sire?” Moses calculated. “That will leave us with six. That should last us until first hay comes in.” He was actually relieved. In past years the assessor took everything, and left the people to starve. This young lord seems to know that his people have to live too.

“Grain? Five sack of oats and three of barley?” the boy asked.

“Yes,” Moses said, surprised at how light a hit was being made. “We could even do four of barley, if it will help.”

“It will. Meat? I suspect not?”

“We could spare our older ram, if it will be of use. The younger ram is old enough to service the flock.”

The young squire wrinkled his mouth. “Ugh, old mutton. Well, it will be good enough for the men, I suppose. Mark down one old ram,” he spoke to one of his men who was writing things down on a parchment.

“What about men, I would take that one,” he pointed out Aron.

“He is my heir,” Moses protested. He knew that the levies did not call landowners or heirs for foreign wars, although all must serve if the kingdom was attacked.

“Pity,” the squire said. “And those two look to be a year or two from being ready, he pointed at Joseph and Abram, the twins. What age?”

“Fourteen, sire,” Abram answered as elder by less than an hour.

“Work hard with your sword work, and archery,” the squire said, as though he were years older than them, and not just a few years. “There will be other wars. Our King has sights on the southern kingdom, and will continue to harass them. This year’s muster will not be strong enough to do more than a raid. There will be more battles for you to fight. Although I am not sure of you, he said to Michael. How many years have you?”

“Seven sire, but I can still fight,” the boy squeaked out in his young voice. “I beat my brother all the time.”

The squire and his men chuckled at the bravado of the pint-sized soldier. “What? You can best these lads?” the squire gestured at the older boys.

“Not them. Not yet, anyway,” Michael said. “But I can beat Jeremiah and make him cry. He is 10.”

“Another son,” the squire asked with a raised eyebrow. “All males must present to the muster.”

“He is only 10, sire,” Moses said. “And small for his age. But as I think about it, perhaps being in the levies would be a good thing for him. He is … reluctant … in matters of warfare. Perhaps a few years in service will set him on a good path.”

“I will see this boy,” the squire said.

“Jeremiah, present yourself,” Moses bellowed at the house.

The men on horseback roared with laughter when Jeremiah exited the house, and even the older brothers snickered, although they were constrained by the red, embarrassed look on their father’s face. Jeremiah had exited the house wearing one of his mother’s red aprons which, being too large for his thin frame, looked like a maiden’s dress.

“You jest, surely,” the squire chuckled. “Is this a boy?”

“Mostly,” Moses muttered, realizing that he was not solving his Jeremiah problem, but may have insulted the squire. “He is 10, but as his younger brother says, does not do well with sword or bow.”

“I can think of some hand-to-hand combat that he might do well at in camp,” one of the mounted men said, leering at the boy.

“Enough of that, Benson,” the squire said sharply. “I think we need a guard out on the road. Take that post.”

The chastised horseman realized that he had offended the squire, and quickly trotted out of sight, although not without another leer at the pretty boy at the doorway.

“He is too young, and too small,” the squire said. “But there is something about the boy that intrigues me. I will take him as well. A party will appear within a week. Have him, and the goods, ready for them. He need not bring the apron,” he added, gaining more chuckled from the others.

“NO,” came a scream from within the house. Miriam, not having been called out, had waited within, but at the door where she could hear everything. Now her patience was tested, and she broke out past Jeremiah, and strode up halfway to the squire. Moses gave her a look that said stop, but she didn’t heed it. “You cannot take Jeri from me,” she wailed. He is a gentle soul and the levy is not a proper place for him.” She fell to her knees.

The squire looked past her, and at the boy on the steps again, noticing the similarities, not just in the hair, but in the facial features as well. It was clear that he was his mother’s son. He looked at Moses, and the farmer immediately knew that he was dishonored by having his woman interfere in men’s business. Moses just looked to his sons, and the three elder ones immediately took their mother and dragged her into the house. At least she did not further dishonor him by resisting, although Moses could see that she wanted to.

The squire turned and led his men away, headed for the next holding along the path. Moses strode into the house, picking up a stick from the ground as he did. He measured it against his thumb, and saw that it was acceptable, and went into the house, ordering the boys and girls out and down to the stream. Jeremiah carried baby Mary, and was last in the party to leave. Thus he was still within range of the sound of the whipping, and the screams. He paused, wanting to go back and help his mother, but aware that the rage he had seen on his father’s face told him that there was nothing he would be able to do, except get a beating of his own. He hurried after his brothers and sisters instead.

They came back an hour later, and found their father sitting alone in his chair, with a dark face as he used a kitchen knife to slowly whittle the switch into shavings. His sisters tended to the fires, which had gone out, and made the meager dinner. Jeremiah put Mary in her cot, and then rushed into his parent’s room, finding his mother laying face-down on the bed, her dress a mass of red blood stains where the skin had broken. As gently as he could, he tore the tattered dress apart, revealing the many welts. Only a few were bloody. Moses was not an evil man, and had stifled his rage when he saw blood on his wife’s back. But by that time, there were a half dozen open sores, along with dozens that were merely welts and bruises.

One or two of the open wounds actually had bits of fabric from Miriam’s dress in it, and Jeremiah carefully washed the debris free before binding the sores with strips of fabric from the already ruined dress. Miriam moaned in pain the entire time, and when she was finished Jeremiah went to the main room of the house, and took a bowl, filling it with the remaining soup. She took it back into the bedroom, where she managed to spoon about 10 spoonsful into her mother, who was hampered by laying on her stomach. After Miriam refused to eat more, Jeremiah finished the rest, which was enough of a meal for him.

He returned his bowl to the wash station, and was surprised to see that his older sisters had done the washing up from the rest of the meal. Usually that was his job. So he washed up the remaining bowl and spoon, and then went to check on Mary. He found her sleeping and fed, and told Sarah to mind her. He didn’t look at his father, who still sat at the table, making little piles of wood shavings. Jeremiah went out into the barn, making a bed in the loose hay, and snuggling in for a somewhat scratchy night.

He didn’t sleep all that much. He lay in the hay and decided what to do. He was terrified of being forced into the levy. The leer of that one soldier was burned into his memory, and he knew that there would be many, many more like him in the army. He liked the squire, who had smiled at him in an entirely different and acceptable way. The boy would protect him, but it would be impossible for him to be near the squire at all times. It was the men he feared.

He hated his father for what he did to his mother, but even that hatred waned through the night. Moses was his father. He just didn’t understand Jeremiah. Only his mother did, and she was in pain. That thought made Jeremiah get up, pull on his pants, and hurry through the cold air to the house.

Father still sat in the same place, a bigger pile of shavings in front of him. It took a moment for Jeremiah to realize that he was asleep. Jeremiah took some water from near the fire, and went into the bedroom, where his mother was sleeping fitfully. She noticed his presence immediately. “Such a gentle soul,” she whispered as he started to remove the bandages.

“I hope I can be gentle, Momma, but this may hurt a bit.” Jeremiah unwrapped the bandages, and was glad that he had come in. The scars were starting to scab up a little, and had he waited until morning, removing the old bandages would have been very painful. When his mother’s back was open to the air, he washed it with the warm water, and then gently patted it dry. His mother purred a little as he washed her, so the pain must be lessening. He waited a full hour before reapplying the bandages, and when he did he could see that they were scabbing up. Hopefully by morning she might be able to move with bearable pain. He went out into the kitchen, and checked Mary. Her diaper was wet, but not soiled. He changed her without waking her, and then left.

Jeremiah tiptoed past his sleeping father, and headed back out to the barn. As he did, he realized that he must leave the farm one way or another, and it should be his own decision. Two or three days at most. He must wait until his mother was healed, but he didn’t want to wait too long. The squire had said ‘about a week’ for the men to come. He did not want to be here when they came.

The next morning Jeremiah was up before dawn. This time his father heard him come in, and jolted out of his sitting sleep.

“Make my breakfast, boy” Moses ordered.

“Make it yourself,” the boy snapped, taking a pitcher of warm water into the bedroom, not even looking back at his glaring father.

In the room his mother was awake, but moving slowly, still on her stomach. “Don’t anger him, darling,” she said softly as he started to remove the dressings.

“He has angered me,” Jeremiah said as he saw the welts and bruises clearly in the morning light. As he had hoped, the open sores were scabbing over, and only needed light bandaging so that they wouldn’t bleed anew when Miriam moved about. And she was insistent that she should move, in spite of Jeremiah’s protestations. She managed to smile as he helped her into her other dress. She only had two … one now, since the other one was in rags as bandages. “He’ll have to buy me a new dress, or at least the material for one. Will you help me sew it?”

“I wish I could,” Jeremiah said. “But I won’t be here, will I?”

“Oh, Jeri,” his mother said, reaching out to put her arms around him, but wincing at the pain her back caused her. “You are going with the levy, aren’t you?”

“No Momma, I am not,” the boy said.

“What?” Miriam said. “Where will you go? And when?”

“I can’t tell you that, Momma,” he said. “If I do, then they will beat you again when they find I am gone. If you don’t know, then they can’t hurt you.”

“Promise me you won’t go into Withywood Forest, Jeri. It is dangerous there, where the little people rule,” she said.

“The hobbits? Perhaps I should seek them out. I would be tall amongst the hobbits.”

“Jeri, don’t joke about the little people. They once ruled all this land, but they are not gone. They are still seen occasionally.”

“I cannot say where I will go, or how I will get there, Momma. But I promise I will let you know that I am safe as soon as I can.”

All that day and night Miriam kept a close watch on Jeremiah. She woke up several times during the night, to check if he was still sleeping on the floor next to Mary’s cot. He always was, and she went back to a fitful sleep until the next time she had to get up and check.

The next day Jeremiah decided that she was feeling better. They made bread that day, and Miriam made a larger batch than normal. Two loaves were put into a cupboard, not too high. They were within Jeremiah’s reach, and he knew why they were there.

That night he woke up in full starlight. There was a partial moon, so he could see to walk in the forest, but not so bright that searchers would be able to track him. He first checked on Mary, and found her diaper dry. He gave a kiss to the babe, wondering how old she would be when he next saw her. He went to the closet, and took one loaf of bread. He didn’t eat much, and the family was quite poor. He didn’t want to deprive them of food, and a second loaf might spoil while he ate the first. He stood to leave, and then saw his mother standing in her nightgown at the bedroom door.

“Is it to be now?” she asked.

“It must be,” he said. “I hoped I could do this while you slept.”

“I want one last hug from my sweet boy,” she said, opening her arms. She winced when he put his arms around her, but when he tried to pull back, she said: “It is not very sore now. And I need to feel you in my arms once more time before you go. Please.”

They hugged for a long time, and then he headed for the door.

“I won’t say anything until morning,” she promised.

“No,” he said. “Give me an hour, maybe two, but no more. I want them searching in the dark, when it isn’t easy to see.”

“And so they won’t think I helped.”

“You didn’t,” he said. “Two hours.”

“My gentle soul,” she whispered as he walked out the door.

-- -----

It was nearly dawn when Jeremiah reached the edge of the forest. His mother had said not to come to Withywood, and that was exactly where the boy headed. He knew that the searchers would not come into the black forest, well other than his father and brothers. It was the best place to hide. And if he could reach the Withywindle River then he might be able to make a raft or something to float downstream until he came to … somewhere else entirely?

The sun came up and got brighter, but at the same time the forest trees got closer together and more menacing, so it remained as dark as pre-dawn within the woods. Paths seemed to move to and fro, and steer him deeper and deeper into the wood. That was fine with Jeremiah. That was where he wanted to go anyway. Meanwhile, he got deeper and closer to the river.

Finally he reached a clearing. It was small, and to the south lay a great willow tree, with a trunk as big as his entire house had been. Just past it, he could hear the Withywindle flowing by. The clearing lit a space and a section of the great tree. By the sun, it must be nearly noon. He pulled off his pack and leaned against the tree, pulling out his loaf of bread. He sat down and ate some, drinking liberally from his water bottle secure in the knowledge that the river was close by to refill it.

He ate for a while, feeling drowsy. He had walked half the night, so a little nap would be appropriate. He glanced down and saw that half the loaf was gone. He was full, but without soup or anything else, he had eaten far more than he expected. He might only be able to eat once more. He really should get up and start making a raft or something. But. he. felt. so. drowsy.

There was a sudden crack, louder than any sound he had ever heard before. He fell backwards, into the tree. He was suddenly wide awake, and he saw a root from the tree jerk, throwing his pack into the tree after him. Then there was a second crack, and the opening into the tree closed. He found himself trapped within the tree. He stood up, and looked around. As he did, he felt the tree closing in around him until he was squeezed on all sides. In a few minutes, he knew, the squeezing would kill him.

“Over here. It was this way.” It was Aron’s voice. He was saved. He tried to call out, but found that the tree had him bound so tightly that he couldn’t breath, let alone speak.

“There were two cracks,” Moses said as he followed his son into the clearing. “Like a tree exploding when lightning strikes it.”

“He was here,” Aron said. “Look, there are his footprints, and breadcrumbs. He wasn’t here long, or birds would have cleared the crumbs.”

“If there are any birds or such in this place,” Moses muttered. He leaned a hand on the old tree.

Inside Jeremiah realized that he could see out of the tree, but they couldn’t see in. He even blinked when his father put his hand up to the tree, less than a foot from his nose. He tried mightily to yell, but couldn’t even produce a squeak.

Aron walked around the tree. “We can track him here, and we see the crumbs, but there are no other tracks. Where could he have gone?” He looked up. The tree was climbable, but not by Jeremiah. Men with ropes could climb it, but it was at least 40 feet up to the first branch. And Jeremiah was deathly afraid of heights.

“That boy didn’t go up,” Moses decided. “Down, maybe.”

“Down? How could he go down? There are no signs of digging.”

“Hobbits,” Moses said. “They got him. They are clever little diggers, and I’ll bet they come up through this tree.”

“How do we get him out?” Aron asked.

“We don’t,” Moses said. “Your mother can’t say that I didn’t look for him. Nor that squire fellow. Blow your horn and let your brothers know the search is over and we will head back.”

--- --- ---

Jeremiah watched his father and eldest brother walk away from the clearing, with Aron blowing five blasts on his horn as a signal to the others. They had work to do to get the consignment ready for the levy. It would be bad enough not to have the boy ready to go, but not to have the other more valuable goods would be worse.

Jeremiah stood in the tree. At least it was no longer squeezing him to death. An hour passed, then two more, and the sun disappeared from the clearing and the afternoon went on. Suddenly, Jeremiah heard the most wonderful sound ... like bells, but a voice. She happened to come down the same path that Aron and Moses left on, and he could see her clearly though the tree bark. She wore a gown made mostly of flowers, flowing around her and swirling above the forest floor, as if to avoid getting soiled. Her hair was long and blonde and entwined with flowers. She sang as she approached.

Now let the song begin! Let us sing together
Of sun, stars moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather
Light on the budding leaf, dew on the feather,
Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather,
Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water:
Old Tom Bombadil and the River-daughter!

Jeremiah recognized the song, or at least parts of it. Tom Bombadil was a fairy as old as all time and the River-daughter must be Goldberry, his mate. They were masters of their world, which was largely the forest of the Withywindle.

Goldberry approached the tree, stopping her song in mid verse. “What is this? Old Man Willow has captured another? Hobbits know not to pause near him. Is this one of the new people?” Goldberry put her hand on the tree, quite close to Jeremiah. It seemed as if she could see him inside, even though his father and brother had not.

Listen, Old Man Willow, this one is not your fellow
Loosen your grasp so tight, or Tom you will fight
Wait. There is work to be done under many a sun
Your task you know, Work it under the snow.

Then she sang to Jeremiah within the tree:

I feel your sensitive soul, my friend. Old Man Willow will help you mend.
When you are done, and ready for the sun, my Tom will see, and released you shall be.

With that she danced off into the distance on a path behind the boy’s line of sight. He could hear her singing for what seemed like hours though. There was no longer any constricting pain from the tree. He could feel it pressing in a bit on his waist and neck, but no longer on his hips or chest. He no longer felt hunger, or tired. He thought that he wanted to lay down and sleep, but realized that it was just habit, and found he could sleep perfectly well standing up.

And sleep he did. He spent weeks at a time asleep. He woke once and it was fall, with all the leaves lying about on the ground. The next time he woke there was a light snow on the ground, and the time after that there was snow several feet deep all though the forest, and the Withywindle no longer sang in the background. The final time he woke it was springtime again, and he heard another song, with a much deeper voice than Goldberry’s:

Hey dol! Merry dol! Ring a dong dillo!
Ring a dong! Hop along! fallal the willow!
Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!

There appeared above the reeds an old battered hat with a tall crown, and a long blue feather stuck in the band. With great yellow boots on his thick legs with a blue coat and a long brown beard, eyes blue and bright and a face that was red like a ripe apple and creased into a hundred wrinkles of laughter. Walking alongside was beautiful Goldberry, carrying a bundle of white in her arms.

“Hey Tom, Ho Tom,” she sang. “Loose the sinews of Old Man Willow. For he has within his sinews a gentle soul that needs to feel the sun. But turn, turn as the Willow lets go, for what he releases, we do not know.”

Tom sang and danced about a bit, spry in spite of the seeming endless age of his face. Jeremiah felt the great tree weaken its hold on him and then with a mighty crack the tree opened again, and thrust him out into the clearing. A second later his pack followed, and then with another crack as large as the last, the tree sealed itself up.

He noticed himself naked after nearly a year in the tree, and Goldberry held out a nightshirt for him to slip into. The material was softer than anything he had ever felt before, and clung to his skin in an oddly comforting manner.

Tom spun around as soon as the garment hem stopped following:

Dilly Dee, Dilly Do, her face is white as snow
The River-daughter has found a daughter
As beautiful as herself, Dilly Dee, Dilly Do.

That was about the time that Jeremiah realized that he was no longer a he. Looking down, he saw breasts on his chest, with the new gown clinging tight to them. Between them she could see a thin waist, and nothing where his small boy parts had been. Her hips were slender, but womanly, and in fact she did look much like a younger Goldberry, although with jet black hair rather than blonde.

Goldberry led her to the river, and with a touch the Withywindle froze into a smooth liquid pool that allowed her to see new body. Her face was much like her mother’s, but her figure was much slimmer.

They walked through the woods, and through the sing-song voices of Tom and Goldberry, Jeremiah learned that her new name was Ruth, and she was being requested to spend three months in the wood until all the changes in her, and in the world, settled down. Less than one year had passed for the rest of the world, but she had gained an additional five years, and now was a 16-year-old. She was led to a small house, deep in the forest that was built into a mound, with a great round door at the front. Tom and Goldberry would not enter, but sang until the door opened. One short person, with large hairy feet (for he was unshod) peered out, and then a rush of other men of his type tumbled out nearly as one, in a manner than made Ruth giggle.

They were men, four had beards, two of which were of some length, although nowhere near as long as Tom’s. They were the height of small boys, but much wider, and had deep voices, and three were smoking pipes. Goldberry told her she would be safe with them, and that they had agreed to house and feed her for the next three months. With that, she and Tom danced off back up the forest trail.

“Oh my,” Ruth said as she looked at the seven hobbits. “I am Ruth now, I guess. Perhaps you can tell me your names?”

“No, no, no,” said one of the older hobbits. “We were told by Tom that you were Snow White, and that is the name we will use. I am Andwise, and my brother is Milo.” The other bearded hobbit bobbed his head.

“I am Bodo.” “And I am Drogo,” said two of the younger hobbits speaking in near unison. They were clearly twins, and Ruth knew she would have trouble telling them apart. Bodo had a brown vestcoat on, and Drogo had a red one. She hoped she could remember that … and that they didn’t switch.

“Shush,” said an older hobbit. “Kids today. Don’t mind them, they are only in their Tweens … not yet 30. They are nephews of mine, I am afraid. I am Berilac.”

“And I am Falco,” said one of the smokers. “And I am Griffo,” said the other smoker. I am fourth oldest, but this is my house, as it was my father’s, he said, puffing with importance.”

“Well, I am pleased to meet you all,” Ruth said. “I don’t have any bags, except this sack. There is a half loaf of bread in there, but it will be quite stale, as it was baked a year ago.”

“Seems fine to me,” Bodo said. He had opened the bag and was helping himself to a chunk of bread, while his brother Drogo snatched it away to take a piece. “It is wonderful,” he said. “Can you bake bread like this?”

“I helped bake it last year,” but it spent a year in Old Man Willow with me.

“That explains things,” Berilac said. All the hobbits were now munching on the bread. “Things do not age in Old Man Willow.”

“Except for me,” Ruth noted wryly, causing the hobbits to stop their munching and stare at her. “I went in as a 10-year-old, and came out at 16.”

“I see,” said Andwise. “That must have come as quite a shock to you.”

“You have no idea,” Ruth said. “But somehow, I feel better the way I am. Goldberry said I was fixed by the tree. I didn’t know I was broken, but I do feel better now.”

“Tom and Goldberry do that,” Griffo said. “Fix things, that is. World would be a better place if they could get out more and fix in a bigger area. When the humans came and started to crowd us out of the Shire they came up with the idea of us getting places here in the Withywindle valley. There aren’t nearly as many of us now as before, but we are getting by.”

“Isn’t it going to be odd?” Ruth asked. “One woman living with seven men?”

“Not at all,” Andwise answered. “First of all, you are human and we are hobbits, so no problems there. And we are all bachelor’s or widowers. The young ones still may find a she-hobbit, but they are rarer than men, so many of us live together. If one of the kids finds a mate, they will move out, and we will let another in. It just happened that we had an empty room big enough for a human, although you really aren’t that tall.”

Ruth had no idea how tall she was, in human terms. Her body had certainly made major changes in other ways. She knew that hobbits were small, and she had always thought of them as half the height of men. Weren’t they called halflings some times? She stood a bit more than a foot above these men, who were all within six inches of another in height. Would that mean she is only four feet tall? She was a half foot taller than that before she changed.

“Come, come,” Milo said, waving her into the house. “And there is no need for you to bake any more of that wonderful bread for us … unless you want to. We told Tom that we would look after you, and we will.”

“Does she mend?” asked Berilac. “None of us mend well. Fat fingers. If you can mend a bit, it would be a real help.”

“I certainly will help out where I can,” Ruth said as she entered the hobbit hole, finding it remarkable neat and tidy for a house of seven bachelors. The room she was shown into was a bit taller than the others, although she didn’t have to bend over in any rooms. Her head was nearly at the height of the doors, but not quite, so she felt she could live comfortably here for a few months. She opened the door to a wardrobe, to find a large selection of dresses and other clothes, which the hobbits said Goldberry had brought the day prior.

Suddenly she sat down on the bed, and started to cry uncontrollably. All seven hobbits crowded into the room, confused and upset. They were not used to dealing with women to start with, and especially human women. And a crying woman was just over the top. Gradually she stopped sobbing and noticed how upset they had become.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what has come over me. No, actually I do. I am in your lovely home, and it reminded me of my own home, and my brothers and sisters, and my parents, although I am still a bit cross at my father. No I’m not, I love him dearly, even though he did something terrible. But by now I know Momma will have forgiven him, and I should too.”

The hobbits seemed to have to work a bit to sort that all out, what with the statements and then the cancellation of them, and feelings. Hobbits, especially male hobbits, are not especially good with feelings.

“I’m sorry, you must think me a flighty woman,” the younger hobbits started to nod agreement, and were then slapped by the older ones. “You see, I miss my family dearly, and promised to tell them, at least Momma, that I was all right. And it has been a year for them, and they must all think I am dead and they have forgotten me.” She started to sob again.

“No, no, please,” begged Andwise. “You mustn’t cry. Perhaps we can send them a letter, telling that you are fine and thinking of them. We will deliver it for you. We cannot wait on an answer, but at least they will know. And in a few months you will be able to go back to them.”

Ruth looked up with teary eyes. “You would do that for me? Do you have pen and paper? Wait. I cannot read or write.” She started sobbing again.

“Are you sure?” Falco asked. “Here is a paper. Can you write your name? Sometimes Old Man Willow will teach you other things when you are ‘inside’.”

Ruth looked at the paper, and smoothed it out on the small table in her room, and started to write. Gripping the stubby pencil was the hardest part. R-U-T-H appeared in large block letters on the paper.

“That’s not how you spell ‘Snow White’,” Drogo complained. “Is that how you spell Snow White?”

Ruth picked up the pencil again, and printed out Snow White above the name Ruth, using smaller letters, and upper and lower case this time. “That’s right, that’s right,” Drogo said, going into a little dance with Bodo.

It was easier and easier to print, and then Ruth realized that she could write script as well. “I wonder if I can read as well?” she asked.

“Of course you can,” Berilac said. “If you can write, you can read.” As he was saying this, another hobbit (Bodo?) thrust a book into her hands. The title page said “There and Back Again,” and she opened it to some momentary confusion, as the letters were in hobbit-script, which is a bit different from human script. But in a matter of minutes she was reading it aloud. “This is a very good book. May I borrow it for a while? I should like to read it.”

“Would you read it aloud to us?” Milo asked. “Reading aloud is one of the favorite pastimes of hobbits. We have all read it in school, it is required reading in tertiary school for young hobbits. But to have a woman read it to us would be special.”

And that is how Ruth, also know temporarily as Snow White, settled in with the seven hobbits. The first evening she wrote a long letter to her mother, hoping she would be able to find someone to read it to her. The hobbits delivered the letter the next evening, since they do not like being seen by the big people in daylight. She not only baked bread for them daily, it never lasting into a second day, but she cooked and cleaned house for them as well. She opened the door to the sewing room, and was almost knocked over by the pile of mending that was piled there. Even so, she managed to make a huge dent in the pile as she finished her first month with the hobbits.

One other skill she discovered that she had learned from Old Man Willow was healing. Several times one or another of the hobbits would come home from the gardens with a bruise or sprain, and she was able to heal it by simply putting her hands on the affected area. She would feel a great heat come from her hands and flow into the hobbit, and soon the hurt was gone. She also knew of herbs and roots that could ease pain and help healing.

She learned that in the forest winter comes early, and leaves early, and that it was still early April at home, two months after Tom had rescued her from the Willow. That was when Milo burst in late one evening, while she was reading about the adventures of Bilbo and the dwarves in There and Back to the others.

“You missed the start of reading time, Milo,” Andwise said.

“We will miss more than that,” Milo said in a hurry. “Everyone pack up immediately. We must go now. Snow White’s mother is ill. I saw Tom on the way home, and he said it was okay for her to go now, even though it is early.”

“Momma is ill? Ruth cried out. “I must go to her.” She got up and started to fling a few things into her bag. Only a small portion of her new clothes would fit. And when she was finished with her packing she saw that five of the hobbits were standing ready with packs laden.

“Bodo and Drogo will stay behind,” Milos announced. “They will pack the rest of your things, and some additional supplies on a pony and bring it behind. It will take an extra three days, and you will find the goods in your barn on the following morning. We six will hobbit-fly.”

“Hobbit-fly,” Ruth asked. “What is that?”

“It was Tom’s idea. It is how we got your letter to your house in one night. Hobbit-fly is a system of tunnels set up by Tom for the hobbits to get around quickly, and to escape detection by the big people. We should be able to get to your house in only a few hours. Before midnight at least.”

The tunnels the hobbits crawled through were a bit short for Ruth, and she had to travel the entire three hours hunched over. She didn’t really feel anything, other than concern for her mother, until the hobbits came out between two trees in a part of the forest that Ruth remembered from her boyhood.

She stood straight, feeling a slight pain in her back. She nearly darted off to the house, but then stopped and looked back at the five little men she had spent the last month with. “Will I ever see you again?”

“You are deemed a hobbit-friend,” Milo said. “Where other big people will never see signs of hobbits, you will. You may meet us again, or others of our kind. Be well, eat well, and hurry to your mother.”

That was all it took, with Ruth rushing towards her house, only minutes away now.

Moses sat on the porch of his small house, worrying about his wife. The healer had left two hours ago, and said nothing could be done. She would be back in the morning to lay out the body. The moonlight was full, and Moses could first hear, and then see, the girl rushing towards the house. At first he thought it was the Miriam of his youth, rushing back to him. He rubbed his eyes and saw the girl again, now closer. She was much younger, and thinner, but still incredibly attractive, perhaps prettier than Miriam had been in her prime. He stood as she approached, but she didn’t heed him at all, and just rushed into the house.

His last glimpse of her had shown him a great similarity of face between the young girl and his wife. Perhaps she was a sister? She certainly had no qualms about entering a strange house. Moses mused a bit. It was not uncommon for a widower to remarry a sister. This girl was young and ripe, and the man smiled a grin as he thought about her. He decided to let her visit her sister until Miriam passed, while he went down to the well to wash up and make himself more attractive.

Inside, Ruth was at her mother’s bedside. She was unconscious, and barely remaining on this side. She muttered ‘Jeri, Jeri, my gentle soul’ and sometimes just ‘Jeremiah.’ Ruth put her hands on her mother’s chest, and felt the warmth spread into her. There was so little left to save in there.

“I am here, Mother,” she said, and immediately felt her mother coming back, growing stronger. The warmth from her hands got stronger, and Ruth started to feel that she had a chance. She continued to pour warmth into her mother’s chest, and felt the blackness within shrink and wane.

“Jeremiah, that feels so good. You came back. I knew you would,” her mother said in her delirium. “We got a letter last month, and the vicar read it to us after church. It said you were well, and living with hobbits, and wouldn’t come, couldn’t come till midsummer.”

“Then I got sick. Just a nick with a knife I thought nothing of it, but it festered, and grew evil looking. The healer wanted to cut it off, the entire hand, but I said no. How can a woman do her work with only one hand? Then the hurt got deep into me, and left me like this. Oh, my dear, that feels so good. My hand hurts a bit now. It hasn’t hurt for the longest time.”

Ruth looked at her mother’s hands. The right one was healthy, but the left one was withered and evil-smelling. When Ruth put her hands onto the blackened flesh, it felt spongy and weak, and the girl recoiled a bit before steeling her nerves and sending heat into the hand. Soon the flesh felt firmer, and the smell lessened, and eventually went away.

It was about an hour later when Miriam awoke, to find a strange woman sitting on her bed, feeding warmth into her chest again. For a moment she was surprised, and then recognition hit. “Jeremiah? You are a girl now? And so grown now.”

“I am Ruth now, Momma,” the girl said. “And I will save my story for a later time, when all the family can hear it together. Do you feel you want something to eat? Some broth perhaps? I will get some.”

“No dear,” Miriam said, swinging her legs out of the bed. “I can do it now.” She looked surprisingly strong, perhaps more so than Ruth, who had expended a great deal of energy in healing her mother. Ruth helped her mother into a dress, looking carefully at her back to see if there were any more lash scars. She was amazed to feel that the skin on the woman’s back was smooth and flawless. After only a year, at the very least those five deep scars should still show, but there was no trace. Had Ruth healed those as well?

Moses was in the kitchen, sitting on his chair when the girl came out. “Is she gone,” he asked.

“I am right here, you old fool. And quit leering at Ruth. She is a guest,” Miriam said, stepping out of the bedroom behind her daughter. “We will make an early breakfast. We are both quite hungry. You might have some too. And why are you washed up so proper. I usually have to fight with you to clean up.”

Moses just stared in amazement at his wife, wondering if this was a ghost or real. It was only when she slapped him on the face to move him out of the way that he knew she was real. The young girl had restored his wife, and the old man was glad. He put away the thoughts he had earlier, and wondered perhaps about the girl and one of the boys? Aron was seeing the Stonechurch girl, and they had an understanding. But one of the younger ones? She looked about 16, the perfect age. But if she was Miriam’s sister, the relationship would be too close. Perhaps she is a niece? Miriam is past 40, surely she wouldn’t have a daughter so young. But the church would allow cousins to marry. Perhaps one of the boys?

Soon the women had made a breakfast, and even though it was pre-dawn the rest of the family woke to the smell of the food. The older children were expecting to arise to find their mother dead, and here she was in the kitchen, cooking with a strange, but beautiful young girl. The boys all rushed out to the well to wash up.

Even little Mary woke, and crawled out of her crib. A baby no more, she was now a toddler just learning to speak. Normally she was shy with strangers, but as soon as she saw Ruth she ran to her, and grasped onto the girl’s skirts. Ruth wiped her hands cleaning of the cooking soils, and reached down and picked her up, giving her a great kiss.

Miriam brought the food to the table. Everyone had questions, but Miriam ordered them held until after the meal. Mary sat on Ruth’s lap and chewed on a crust, occasionally opening her mouth to eat a small portion of eggs from the girl’s plate. She seemed happier than she had for months.

The older girls cleared the table, and the questioning began. First up, how had Miriam made such a miraculous recovery? Miriam handed that one to Ruth, who merely noted that “I have some talents for healing.”

“Who are you?” Moses asked. “I can see the resemblance between my wife and you. Are you a sister, or a niece?”

“You knew me as Jeremiah,” Ruth said, and heard gasps from all those around the table, except from Miriam and little Mary, who just gurgled in glee. “I ran away, as you know, to avoid going into the levy. Father, you and Aron found where I had breakfasted, and noted the crumbs. I had just been trapped inside that great willow tree minutes before you came. I spent nearly a year in there, and during that time I was changed to look like what you see now. I was also taught about healing, and given some powers. After nearly a year I was released from the tree by Tom Bombadil and Goldberry, and went to live with some hobbits for three months. But I only spent two months there, when hobbits learned that Mama was ill. The hobbits flew me here, and I arrived in time to help Mama.”

“Bombadil, Goldberry, hobbits, trapped in a Willow tree: it all sounds preposterous,” Moses said. “But what you say fits. You know of Jeremiah, and his disappearance, down right to the spot we saw the crumbs. But you were a tiny boy of 10, and now you are a full girl. I was thinking you could wed one of the twins?”

“My brothers?” Ruth giggled. “I don’t think the church would approve.”

“No, I rather guess not. So what is to come of you? Will you live here with us?”

“She will,” Miriam said insistently. “Although I wonder how the people around here will talk. She leaves a boy of 10, and comes back a mature girl? We don’t want a witchcraft scare starting up.”

“I … erm. Well, when the girl first came in I wondered if she was a sister or a niece to you, love,” Moses said. “You both look so alike, other than of the age.”

“Yes, we could say that you are my niece Ruth, a healer come to save me,” Miriam said. “When word gets around, there will be no shortage of people come through looking for a good healer.”

“Is Constance Longbridge not healer for the valley still?” Ruth asked.

Aron snorted. “You’re more like to get ill after she treats you,” he said. “She told us to prepare a box for mother, yet you healed her easily.”

“Not easily,” Ruth said. “And what I did was through the powers of the Withywindle, not normal healing. I don’t want to upset Constance. Perhaps we can divide up the healing for the valley between us, or I can act as her apprentice. She is getting up in years, and will soon be ready to retire. Perhaps we can work something out?”

“You will have your chance,” Abram said. “Here she comes.”

Constance was amazed to see Miriam up and serving breakfast. But not so amazed as to refuse to take her up on the offer to join in. She heard the sanitized version of the story, that Ruth was Miriam’s niece, and had come to try and help, and succeeded. She said she had some skills as a healer, and the older woman tested her. Ruth answered all her questions truthfully, and didn’t argue when Constance insisted on a certain herb or root being of a use that was not the correct one.

Eventually, they pieced together a plan. Constance would take Ruth on as an apprentice, but agreed to Miriam’s insistence that the girl live with the family, at least for a year. During that time, half of any earning that Ruth made as a healer would go to Constance, and the other half would go into the family income.

The next day it started, and there was a stream of visitors to the house with one ailment or another, and the healing hands of Ruth cured them all. There was a steady flow of coppers and the odd silver piece into the family pot from satisfied healed people. Constance was privately irate when her trade completely dried up, with no calls in over a week, but she was happy when Michael or Abram dropped off her share of Ruth’s earnings. She was making about three times as much in a week as she had before, without doing any work. She began referring patients to Ruth in the many cases where she felt uncertain she could heal someone, or in the more frequent cases where her treatments failed to help.

There was no levy that spring, and the little family thrived. The hut became Ruth’s clinic as Moses and the boys had enough cash to buy sufficient wood to build a proper house. It had four bedrooms, one for Moses and Miriam, one for Ruth and Mary, who insisted on being with her sister whenever possible. Another bedroom was for Aron and his new bride, Helen, while the fourth was for the boys. Eve, the eldest sister was also married that year, and had moved out, and Jessica, the other older sister bunked with Ruth and Mary, although Jessica was also seeing a boy regularly and hoped to soon marry and move out into the Tanner household. The most amazing part of the house was the small room at the back. It was one of the first houses in valley to have indoor facilities.

Thus, over the months the family grew more and more prosperous. Additional land was bought and added to the farm, making Moses and Aron among the larger holdings in the valley. Somehow Ruth became an integral part of the family decision-making team, which was only fair when it was considered that she was bringing in more than half the family income. More than a few young gentlemen callers came to woo the young healer, but few had much success. She was accompanied to the few social events in the valley by one of her brothers, or her father.

To be continued? My main story, River, holds the bulk of my attention, but I hope to get back to this tale in time.

A Gentle Soul

I gently teased Erin the other day when she posted a new Bian chapter a year after the last. Then I realized that I have a series that had gone dormant. This one is my secondary series, and will only be updated at a monthly level (roughly). I hope you enjoy it. It was fun to write: Dawn.

A Gentle Soul 2 – The Entwives

Ruth spent the next two years tending her flock of patients, who started coming many miles to her little hut for treatment. The coppers and silvers started to see the odd gold, and the family became the most prosperous in the valley.

Moses often stepped in when his neighbors had bad harvests, or other problems, taking over farms rather than letting outside creditors get them. He would then allow the farmer to be a sharecropper on the land. But unlike many, he devised a payment schedule that allowed the sharecropper to regain full ownership of his land if he worked hard enough. Thus, Moses started to be called ‘squire’ by the people of the valley. It now seemed apparent that both Joseph and Abram would inherit land for farms of their own, and even little Michael when he was old enough.

Ruth sat in on all the family financial decisions, since she contributed over half of the family income. After a year ‘apprenticing’ Ruth as a healer, Constance Longbridge retired entirely, having made more money during that one year than she had in her entire life before. Ruth still paid her 10% of her earnings as a pension, and the old lady found she could easily live off that without touching her savings. To her surprise she found that older single men of the valley were now courting her instead of just claiming she was a witch.

She accepted the compliments they paid her, but never settled down on one, since she was not all that interested in men. But it was Constance who was important in the next part of the story. She stormed into Ruth’s hut one day, complaining virulently about goats. Apparently two young kids had escaped from the family herd one day and wandered all the way to her home, which had the south wall made up of straw bales stacked up. The goats had been caught merrily eating the straw walls of her house, until she chased them away.

Constance recognized the brand on the kids as being from the family, so took the goats back. Ruth paid her a silver for her trouble, and to repair any damages, and then went out to see the animals. “Hansel and Gretel, what will I do with you?” she said, instantly recognizing the kids.

The young goats seemed happy to stay near the hut, and Ruth made space for them in the old family barn, as a new one had been raised near the new house. They seemed content, and over time she trained them to pull a small wagon. Eventually she could be seen travelling around the valley to patients in the wagon, or occasionally walking beside it if it held a patient that she needed to bring back to the hut to tend to.

A few months later a small boy in a red tunic ran into the hut, claiming that his mother was deathly ill, and could Ruth help. She immediately pulled on her cloak and followed the boy, who was about 10. They walked through some of the darkest parts of the forest, and the boy admitted to having been afraid or wolves passing through on the way to Ruth’s hut. He pulled up the hood on his tunic.

Finally they came to a hovel that could barely be called a house, and Ruth hurried in, seeing the bed in the corner. When she got there, she was startled. “What a big nose you have, mother,” she said, as the sleeping form let out a loud, noxious, and deep belch.

“She is over here,” the boy said from a smaller pallet bed.

“Ah, Little Red Riding Hood,” Ruth said. “And who is in the big bed?”

“That would be father,” the boy said. “He must have found mother’s ‘medicines’.

Ruth put her hand on the old lady, and was instantly alarmed. “This is serious,” she said. “This is the wasting disease, and I can only cure it part of the time. Some who get it are beyond my help.” She fed energy into the woman, and finally smiled. “But this is within my powers. I can help, but it will take all day.”

Ruth spent the day feeding energy into the woman. In the early evening, the bulk on the bigger bed rose and went outside to piss. On returning he saw Ruth, and ordered her to make him dinner. She snapped back that she was busy, and asked him how he intended to pay for her healing services. The man stopped, stared for a few minutes, and then fled out the door.

Several hours later the woman was healed. Ruth had been extra careful, since she knew that if you didn’t clear all the traces of the wasting disease from the body, it would return, and could not be cured a second time. Thus by the time she was sure she had everything, the woman was feeling quite well, and insisted on making her a small meal before she left. As Ruth hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and had expended a great deal of energy during the day, she agreed, and sat down to eat supper with her patient and the son.

She saw the father as she left just before midnight. He politely tipped his hat to her, and then went into the house. The walk home was even scarier at night, especially alone when she heard the howl of a wolf not far away. But a minute or two later she glimpsed one of the little people in the trees, and no longer feared for her safety. The hobbits were ferocious fighters with their short swords, and no wolf would attack anyone under their protection.

Three days later she came to the small hut, and found a large load of freshly sawn wood piled next to her barn. She mentally thanked the woodsman, and later told her brothers to get the wood for projects around the farm.

A few months later Ruth was called to the house of a pregnant woman. The birth was not difficult, and in a few hours a little boy was born. The woman had luscious long brown hair down past her waist, and also had a daughter of about 16 whose hair had never been cut. It was longer than she was tall, and when she let it down each evening to be combed by her mother or grandmother, it was so long that she had to stand at the window, with the person combing standing outside to be able to comb all the long locks. The girl had the funny name of Rapunzel, which Ruth remembered.

Another name she remembered was that of a small man who worked a spinning wheel. He was a good-natured soul, and used to joke that he could spin wool into gold, since his nimble hands allowed him to spin much more efficiently than most people. His name was Rumpelstiltskin. Ruth also delivered his wife a fine son, which he paid for with a quilt of finest wool, gold in color.

One visit she made was most perplexing. A girl known as Little Briar Rose was found unconscious after falling on some rocks near the river. She was taken back to her mother’s house where she lay in a coma for two days before Ruth was sought. Getting there, Ruth spent several hours feeding energy into the pretty girl, and felt everything in her brain heal. But she didn’t wake up.

Then, while the mother was feeding Ruth, the beau of the girl arrived at the house, just having learned of the accident. He went in to see her, and cried out as he saw her sleeping there. He went over and kissed the sleeping form, and that, somehow, caused the girl to waken, to the relief of Ruth, the mother, and the beau. The sleeping beauty was completely cured.

These adventures made Ruth happy for her fate. She had never become bored as a healer. So it was with surprise that she saw Goldberry standing outside her hut one evening when she had been working long hours preparing a healing salve.

“Milady,” she said to the comely fairy. “What can I do for you?”

“I have a mission for you,” Goldberry sang in her melodious voice. “Will you undertake it? You may be gone for many months.”

“I will do anything you ask,” Ruth answered. “But what of my people? Who will heal them?”

“I will find you a replacement healer,” Goldberry said. “Be ready to travel in three days. Hobbits will come.”

With that Goldberry turned around twice and was gone. Ruth now had the unenvious task of telling her mother, and little Mary, that she had to leave them again.

“Oh no,” Miriam cried out. “You will leave us Ruthless. Must you go?”

“I must,” Ruth said, as Mary cried on her lap. The girl was nearly four now, and followed her sister about whenever they were together. “The lady Goldberry has given me much, and I must heed her call.”

“And what of the business?” her father asked. He was worried both for his daughter, and for the loss of her income.

“Goldberry says she will find a replacement,” Ruth said. Moses doubted that a replacement would provide a share of her earning to the family, though, but he did not say. The farm could easily survive without Ruth’s income: it just wouldn’t be able to grow as it had over the last few years.

While the family was discussing their futures, Goldberry and Tom were back at Old Man Willow near the Withywindle. Last year Tom had captured a man who was clear-cutting the forest at its north end, trying to carve out a farm. Twice Tom had told him to stop, and to go away, but the man just ignored the small elf-like creature. On the third time Tom waved his stick, and the man froze. He then was walked to the old willow, and made to lean against it. “Take your dinner, Old Man Willow,” Tom sang, and suddenly the man was snapped up.

That had been a full year ago, and now Goldberry was back with Tom, bearing a white shift. Tom again turned his back, and sang the captive out of the tree. A blonde girl stumbled forward. Goldberry helped her into the shift, and then called forth four hobbits.

“Your name is now Erin, for Eriador,” Goldberry told the new girl. “These good men will lead you to your new posting. You cannot use hobbit-flys, so it will take you a full two days to get there. The bemused girl followed the hobbits even as she felt her breasts and other new body parts in confusion.

Three days later Goldberry, the new girl, and Ruth met outside the old barn. The four hobbits lay in the hay while the women talked. Ruth recognized Bodo and Drogo from her time with the seven hobbits. Ruth took Erin inside to show her around the hut. Erin had also been taught healing by the willow, although she had not been as good a student at Ruth had been. But Ruth was confident that she knew enough to heal the local people, if not those who travelled from the cities to be healed.

She took Erin into the house to meet her family, and to make final preparations to leave. Her mother gave her a sack of food, including two loaves of bread, cheese and some dried meat. Ruth accepted. Her family no longer was short of food.

After tearful hugs and wailing, especially by little Mary, Ruth headed alone to the barn where Goldberry and the hobbits waited. Goldberry opened the bag and then tossed it to the hobbits, who quickly tore into the bread, making sandwiches that used up the meat and cheese as well. As they munched merrily on their surprise meal, Goldberry spoke.

“You know Bodo and Drogo,” she said. “The other taller two hobbits are Meridoc and Peregrin Gamgee, great grandsons of the famous Sam Gamgee who you may have read about in There and Back Again.”

“Hello,” Ruth offered, but the hobbits both had full mouths, and could only mumble a welcome.

“The hobbits are going on a quest. You read about Ents in the book?”

“I did.”

“Do you recall hearing about Entwives?” Goldberry asked.

Ruth thought. “Yes. The Ents lost them, didn’t they?”

“Exactly. Well, these hobbits are seeking them. Frodo Gamgee, their father, spent his entire life working on the mystery of the Entwives, and feels he may have solved the puzzle. He thinks that the southern hobbits, the ones that spawned Gollum in the old times, may have captured and enslaved the Entwives, and he has tasked his sons, and their friends, to try and find them.”

“Why do they need me?” Ruth asked.

“The old adventures were a combination of wizards, hobbits, elfs, dwarfs, and men. There are no more elfs and wizards, and the dwarfs no longer will deal with men. You have an elfish streak in you. You will have to find suitable men to complete the company as you travel. Make your numbers odd. The original company had nine. That, or seven, would make a good company for this new mission.”

“What are we to do? Where are we to go? Can’t you come with us? You could be our wizard.”

“I am no wizard,” Goldberry said with a laugh. “And I cannot travel far from Tom, and he from his lands. Even here I had to bring him, and he waits a few miles away, close enough to his lands, yet close enough that I can be here. This is the limit we can travel.”

“As to where and what, that will become clear as you travel,” she said. “All I can say is head south, towards Rohan. You may not need travel that far, but start that way. If you do find the Entwives, bring them back, and the hobbits will take them north, to where the Ents sleep in Fangorn. Hopefully the Entwives will be able to wake the Ents, and they might again enrich Middle Earth.”

When it was clear that Goldberry was ready to leave, she picked up the empty food sack and handed it to Ruth. The girl’s eyes widened when she discovered that the sack was full. “My final gift to you,” Goldberry said. “To make sure you never go hungry on your trip. A necessity when travelling with hobbits.”

As Goldberry spun about and disappeared, Ruth saw the hobbits hitching Hansel and Gretel up to their cart. She hopped on, taking the food sack with her, although the hobbits looked as though they would be more than willing to carry that. The cart creaked out of the barn. As she drove past the house, she saw her entire family, and Erin, watching and waving as she went. She noticed that none of the hobbits could be seen while they were in sight of the house, but once they crossed a little hill, all four appeared again.

“Do any of you know where we are going?” Ruth asked Bodo as he walked alongside the cart.

“We need to take this road to the main road, and then the road to South Farthing. From there we go to the Great South Road,” Drogo said.

“I’m glad someone knows where we are going,” Ruth said.

“Uhm, er, we don’t exactly know where we are going,” Bodo said. “We just know the direction we are to take. We need to find the southern Hobbits. We don’t exactly know where.”

“Well, that should make this an interesting journey. And along the way we have to find at least two people to join us on a trek to a place we don’t know, which will last for we don’t know how long. Are you four willing to be seen by these new people, when we meet them?”

“Unless they are hobbit-friends like you,” Drogo said, “then no we are not.”

“Ah, so when we meet people along the road, you four will just disappear?”

“Not exactly,” Peregrin said. “But we will protect you. You will appear to be travelling alone, but we will always be close by.”

“Peregrin, right?” Ruth said to the new hobbit.

“Yes, but call me Pippin.”

“And me Merry,” said the fourth hobbit.

“Well that will be easier,” Ruth said.

“Perhaps we should stop for a meal,” Pippin suggested.

“What?” Ruth said. “We have only been travelling for less than an hour, we can’t stop to eat yet. You four had a great meal back in the barn.”

“It was a great meal,” Pippin said, rubbing his stomach. “That is why I suggested another. You see, hobbits are well known for enjoying eating. Five meals a day, unless we can get more. Breakfast, second breakfast, lunch, tea, and supper. Snacks in between.”

“Goodness,” Ruth said. “It is a good thing that the lady gave me a sack that won’t empty. Although with you lot, I wonder if the magic will stretch that far.”

“It’s as good a time as any to find out,” Pippin said. “Just a quick meal. Shouldn’t take long. And then a little nap might be nice.”

“No,” Ruth said. “We are not stopping every hour to eat. In fact, if you need five meals a day, then two of them will have to be taken on the march, as the soldiers say.”

The hobbits grumbled a bit, particularly Pippin, but continued to walk alongside the cart. Ruth realized that she would have to give the goats a good hour’s rest at the lunch break. In fact, even riding could make one stiff, and a break would be good for her too.

But before they reached the lunchtime stop, the hobbits disappeared, and a second later a big man came rushing out of the ditch, waving a long knife as though it were a sword.

“Ah, what have we here?” the man said. “A pretty little girl, travelling all alone. I think I am going to have some fun, before I go to sell my new cart and goats.”

Ruth was afraid. The man was waving the knife dangerously, and her virginity had been threatened. Then she saw two of the hobbits, Pippin and Bodo, come up behind the man. They tackled into him, one to each leg. Being hobbits, they were not large enough to knock him over, but they staggered him, and he dropped his knife.

First he looked about to see what hit him, but the hobbits had jumped under the cart and hid behind it. He then reached down for his knife, which he had dropped when hit. He could not find it, although he searched around the entire cart. Ruth was rather amused at the way the two hobbits moved counter to him, to always keep concealed.

“That was a good knife,” the man said. “Are you a witch? Did you take it?”

“I am a simple healer,” Ruth said. “I didn’t take your knife.”

“Ah well, I don’t need it to deal with a tiny thing like you,” the man said. Just then Ruth saw Bodo behind him again, and a second later the man’s trousers dropped to the ground. The rope he had used to hold them up had been neatly sliced.

“Drive on,” Ruth heard Pippin’s voice, although she could not see him. So she flicked the reins and the little cart started moving forward. The man yelled at her to stop, but had to hold his pants up with both hands, and he tripped (or was pushed) as he tried to chase after, falling hard onto the road.

Ruth didn’t look back until she was at the top of a rise a mile down the road. He was standing in the road where he had fallen, looking perplexed at his failed abduction. As the cart moved over the top of the rise, the hobbits reappeared, looking jolly as if they had just had a great caper. Bodo was brandishing the man’s long knife as if it were a sword, which it was to his small stature. Suddenly he flicked the knife and it disappeared into his clothing somewhere.

“So you see, you were quite safe,” Drogo said. “Bodo was needing a sword anyway. The rest of us all have them, although we keep them hidden away when not needed. That was fun, but surely it is getting near time for lunch?”

“I thank you all for that,” Ruth said. “And if you can find a good safe spot to pull off, then we can have lunch. I need to let the goats graze for a while anyway, so perhaps we will rest for an hour.”

The hobbits feasted twice from the bag, and Ruth was a little less concerned about its magic running out. It was Goldberry magic, after all.

As the hobbits sat around, Ruth held a little meeting. “Goldberry said we needed two or four more on the quest. Should they be men or hobbits?”

“Men I think,” said Pippin. “We already have so many more hobbits.”

“And only two,” Merry added. “We want this to be a mostly hobbit quest. If we find four more, then the men will outnumber us. If you don’t mind me grouping you in with the men.”

“It will be a bit of a problem for the men to be on a quest with you, if they can’t see you, won’t it?” Ruth asked.

That statement perplexed the hobbits, and they argued amongst themselves as Ruth cleaned the camp, took back possession of the food sack, and got Hansel and Gretel hitched up.

Bodo then approached her. “We have decided that if we are on a quest with men, then we will have to let them see us. If you find any men, we will watch them, and appear if we think they would be good on the quest.”

They rode on for another hour and a half, and then came across two dusty men walking the road. These men were polite, unlike the one who tried to accost Ruth, and she offered them seats on the wagon. They agreed, telling her that they were Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, brothers who were wandering the country looking for stories.

Ruth told them she knew of no stories, but chatted gaily as the wagon rolled on, with the hobbits keeping out of sight. Finally she told the story of Hansel and Gretel, the two goats who had been caught eating a house made of straw.

“That’s perfect,” Jacob said. “But not goats, children.”

“And not straw, but something better,” Wilhelm suggested.

“Chocolate.”

“But who lives in a house made of chocolate?”

“A witch.”

“A witch who traps and eats little children.”

“Except the children push her into an oven and are saved,” Jacob said.

“Perfect,” answered Wilhelm.

“Perfect,” agreed Jacob.

“You see Ruth, you did have a story.” And with that Wilhelm told the story that people now know of as Hansel and Gretel.

“That’s quite good,” Drogo said, popping into view.

“Very good,” Pippin added, “Although it would be better told over a lunch.”

“Or supper,” Drogo said. “It must be nearly supper time.”

“Or past it,” Merry said.

Jacob and Wilhelm shrieked a little at hobbits popping into view all around the wagon. Ruth had to calm them down, explaining that they were to protect her, and had remained hidden until they felt safe with the brothers. Or too hungry to wait in hiding any longer, as was the more likely case.

“Are there more of you?” Jacob asked Drogo.

“Many,” the hobbit said. “Although not nearly so many as in the old days. Men have squeezed us out of the shire, and we mostly live in the forest now.”

Ruth pulled the donkey cart over to a clearing near the road, and announced that there would be a dinner. As they ate Drogo told them of the time Ruth had lived with them. After that, the two went into their back-and-forth routine, until they could finally tell everyone the story of Snow White and the Seven Hobbits. (The Grimms wanted to use the word 'dwarfs', but the hobbits were highly offended by that word, dwarfs and hobbits being nothing alike. The brothers agreed to use the word hobbit, although they didn’t tell them that they would change it back to dwarfs when they were in other areas where hobbits were not known.)

“We are on a quest,” Ruth told the two men as the hobbits smoked. “We need to go somewhere south, and find something or somethings called Entwives, and bring them back to Fangorn Forest, which is somewhere in the north. We are going to South Farthing, and then down the Great South Road. It is all rather silly and confusing, and I don’t suppose you two would like to join us and fill out the company, would you?”

“Would we,” Jacob looked at his brother and saw the glint of excitement in his eye. “That sounds exactly like what we would want to do. A great adventure.”

“It might be dangerous,” Ruth said. “Apparently the Entwives were stolen by the southern hobbits, and they might not want to give them back.”

“Danger? Super. We are in,” Wilhelm said. “When do we start?”

“Well, we have actually started already, but if you two help hitch up the wagon, we can be off to Southfarthing.”

Ruth cleaned camp, and came back to discover that the brothers were completely inept at hitching a wagon, or pretty much anything useful. She showed them how to do it, hoping that next break she could let them handle it.

“How far is this Southfarthing place?” Ruth asked.

“Well, we will be in it tomorrow night,” Drogo said. “But it will take another two days to cross it. Then another three days down to the old south road, and I guess we will be a week or two on it.”

“How will we know when we get to the lands of the southern hobbits?” Ruth asked.

“We are hobbits. We can tell when others are around by their smell,” Merry said.

Ruth sighed sadly. Two weeks down, at least. And that meant two weeks back. If they were successful in rescuing the Entwives. And she had no clue how that was going to happen.

“It has been a wonderful adventure so far,” Jacob Grimm said gleefully. “Can you tell us another one of the stories that you don’t know?”

Ruth racked her brain. “Well I had to go through a forest to heal the mother of a little boy in a red riding habit. There were wolves on the way home.”

“A girl,” Jacob said.

“Little Red Riding Hood,” Wilhelm said.

“Her Grandmother,” Jacob said.

The quest was on.

A Gentle Soul – The Penultimate Chapter

I promised to take a month between stories after the last chapter, but that night I finished the tale (in my head). The chapter after this one is all there ready to get into the computer. This chapter took a bit more work. I will finish this story before getting back to Rachael and A Second Chance: Dawn.

Part of the way through Southfarthing, the party decided to stop for the evening meal. The brothers Grimm were upset that they hadn’t been able to write a story all day.

Ruth pulled food out of the magic bag, and to her surprise there was something new there. It was a piece of waxed paper, and it had the corners folded so the contents would not leak out. Ruth sniffed it, and found that it smelled like her mother’s stew. But it was a miserably small portion, barely enough for two men, or one hobbit. And how would she cook it?

Reaching into the bag again, she pulled out a tin pot. She shrugged her shoulders and started to pour the contents of the bag in, expecting it to cover the bottom of the pan. Instead more and more stew came out of the package, until the pot was full. Apparently the bag was bigger on the inside than the outside.

She put the packet in her scrap pile, and next got a lid out of the bag, and set the pot on a hot rock at the edge of the fire. It smelled better and better, and soon the fire was surrounded by four hungry hobbits and two men.

Up until now a hot meal for the group had been melted cheese on a bread roll. This feast seemed special. The hobbits had thought they were getting meat three days earlier, when Drogo speared a rabbit through the rear legs. He brought it to Ruth to kill and clean, and instead she healed the wound, with the rabbit hopping away to the disgust of all four hobbits.

Dinner tonight was served on trenchers, flat pieces of bread that sopped up the gravy, making the plate a part of the meal. Each man had two helpings, and the hobbits: well they just kept reaching into the bag, pulling out one trencher after another, and then scooping more stew onto it. Finally Bodo got the last trencher (so he said) and found the pot empty. Not to be put out, he folded up the trencher and wiped the inside of the pot to sop up the last of the gravy.

“Goldberry makes a fine stew,” Pippin said, as he laid back, his hobbit appetite sated for once (which means he was full to the nose, to use an old hobbit expression.)

It was still light, but the hobbits were all soon snoring in harmony as Ruth gathered up the cooking gear to take down to the river to wash. The two men just stared at her, apparently not even considering helping out. Then Jacob giggled.

“What?” Ruth asked.

“It’s just that you have … well, a smear of ash from the fire on your face here” (he showed by pointing to his own face) “and here, and a little more over here.”

“Ruth in the Cinders,” Wilhelm said, giving a title for a story of a girl who had to work hard in the kitchens. Ruth just walked away. She loved listening to them shoot ideas back and forth and see a story somehow came out at the end, but the pot was not going to wash itself. And she wanted to wash her face, too.

When she got back, Ruth had been renamed Ella and it was turned around too, to Cinderella. Jacob was just suggesting that the evil witch who made her cook and clean and sew should instead be a wicked-stepmother, with two particularly ugly daughters who dressed in silk, while Ella was in rags.

Ruth just listened in fascination as a pumpkin became a coach, mice became horses, and a rat became a coachman. For a while it was garden snakes that became the footmen, although that soon changed to lizards. There was a fairy godmother, and a beautiful dress with golden slippers. That last detail stayed in the story until it was finished and Will was reciting it to the hobbits, who had woken just as the sun was setting. He told Jacob later that a glass slipper just sounded better.

The next morning there was a breakfast. There were hobbits: of course there was a breakfast. After it was cleared up and packed away, Merry approached Ruth. “You know, we would be making much better time if you didn’t stop to heal everyone along the way.”

Ruth had gotten into the habit of stopping in at any farmhouse or hut where she detected illness, something her magic allowed her to do from a considerable distance. The brothers didn’t mind: there was usually a hot meal served by the grateful patients. But the hobbits couldn’t benefit from that, as they had to stay hidden.

A couple times Ruth would be eating her stew or gruel in a hut and would look up to see one of the hobbits taking a big spoonful from the pot while the hosts had their backs turned. So lately she told the superstitious rural folk that they had to put four bowls out on the stoop for her ‘magic’ to work. The bowls were always licked clean an hour after the meal.

But she agreed. Her healing was slowing them down to half the pace it should be. They weren’t even to the village of Tharbad, where they would join the Great Southern Road. But she just couldn’t allow herself to walk away when she saw people in pain, or dying of something she could cure. Sometimes the cures were easy and quick: just holding the gnarled hands of an old person in hers could wipe away 20 years of arthritis in a few seconds. Other times the wasting disease would mean a delay of a full day as Ruth cured the person, and then fell into a deep sleep herself to recover. And to make it worse, at those times the hobbits and the brothers had to look after themselves for meals.

“I can try to go faster,” Ruth told the hobbit, “but I don’t think I can just walk away from a sick person. You know, with a power comes a responsibility.”

“I guess,” Merry answered, “but maybe you could just not go looking for them.”

They made good time that day, with few farms, and none of them harboring an ill person. They stopped at a little civic camping place that had a finger-sign point south to Tharbad, followed by a 5.

“The five means five hours,” Jacob explained. “That is at walking speed for most people. I think our cart is moving just about that fast. We should be in the village by supper time. I wish we had money to go to an inn. I am dying for a cold beer.”

“I have money,” the girl said. “Many of the people I heal have given me a copper or a silver. You may each have one beer, along with a second one that you will not drink from, but wander outside to where the hobbits can split one. We will order food up to our rooms, so the hobbits can each enjoy good pub food. I don’t know how we can explain the need for seven bowls when there are just three of us, though.”

“No problem,” Jacob said. “We tell the servers that we have four big friends coming a bit late, and they want us to have the food ready for them. No one will suspect anything when the food is gone. All they care is that they get their coppers.”

With a plan in place, they made good time the next morning. It was the brothers who caused the delay this time. There was a young woman tending a flock of about 12 geese, herding them towards Tharbad. When the donkey cart pulled alongside, and they politely nodded to each other, the woman insisted that she was a princess, forced to work as a Goose Girl. She even twirled about as if she had a gown on as she drove her flock to the town market.

That resulted in the Goose Girl story that amused Ruth and the hobbits, who by now were forced to hide in crannies in the wagon, due to the busier traffic on the road. The Goose Girl of the story actually was a princess, who had been sent from the castle with her maid to marry a distant prince. The maid decided that she didn’t want to be a maid any longer. She forced the princess to switch clothes and horses with her, and is assumed to be the princess when they get to the distant land. It is then that the real princess is sent out to tend the geese. In the end the King learns of the plot, and orders his son to marry the real princess, the goose girl, and punishes the maid.

Ruth marveled at how a chance encounter with a slightly addled girl could be transformed into such an entertaining tale. The Grimm Brothers were a real treasure, and their stories made the travelling time seem to go faster.

When they got to Tharbad Ruth immediately knew she could not leave within a week. She could just feel so much sickness around her in the small village. They booked rooms for the week, depleting much of her cash, but the enterprising brothers finally proved their worth by convincing the tavern owner to let them tell their stories to the crowd.

They had a tips jar, and pennies flowed into it all night long. At the end of the second night they were told that their meals were ‘on the house’ because the pub was full of people wanting to hear the tales. They were even standing in the street, listening in at the window, and the enterprising barkeep made sure that his barmaids would take orders from out there as well.

Ruth, meanwhile, went out into town every day, and knocked on doors, asking if anyone needed a healer. Of course, with her powers, she knew they did, and got right to work healing them. In a very few cases the people were too poor to pay, but Ruth healed them anyway, telling them they could pay her when they had the money, even though she knew people of that social strata would never have money.

At the end of the week the three went to the owner and tallied up the fee. Ruth had made more money than ever from curing the paying sick people, and the brothers were not asked to pay anything, since the bar had done more business in that week than in the prior three months. The barkeep changed all the Grimm’s tips into silver, since they had amassed a huge number of coppers.

Then they were back on the road again. One of the regulars at the bar had been named (or nicknamed) Duck, and he was notoriously ugly. His face had been kicked in by a horse, and not set properly, so it was lopsided, and he always spoke with a sneer. The fact that he only had one front tooth, and a few at the back, also added to his look. He was balding in the front, and entirely on the left side of his head. The brothers were barely on the cart leaving town when they decided to write a story about him. Ugly Duck became the Ugly Duckling, and by the time the story ended it bore little relationship to Ugly Duck.

They rode south for two days, when Bodo popped his head up. I smell hobbit. And not us. There are other hobbits nearby. We should take this turn off, and then go towards that copse of forest.

In the forest the donkey cart rolled into a clearing, and a dozen or so hobbits there froze, to become invisible. And the ploy worked with the Grimms, but Ruth and the northern hobbits could see them. Ruth pulled the cart up to an older-looking hobbit near a sawing machine.

“Good day, kind sir,” Ruth said, looking him in the eyes. “I wonder if you might have some information. We are on a quest.”

“You can see me?” the hobbit said. “And you four boys. You aren’t from around here, are you?”

She was named a hobbit-friend by Tom Bombadil and Goldberry,” Drogo said.

“I don’t know of them,” the old hobbit said. “Ain’t natural people being able to see us when we is hidden. What is this quest?”

“We seek the Entwives,” Ruth thought the hobbit’s eyes narrowed as she told the mission, but only for a second. “Do you know of them, or have you heard of them being anywhere else.”

“We don’t know no ‘Entwives’,” the old hobbit said. “But I maybe heard of them further south. Many days south of here.”

“Okay,” Ruth said. “We shall have to seek them out there.”

“Any chance of getting second-breakfasts here with you,” Pippin asked.

“We don’t do no second breakfasts,” the old grump sneered. “And we don’t feeds them that don’t work.”

The northern hobbits were astonished. Partially by the refusal of the southern hobbits to provide simple courtesy in sharing a meal, but even more so by the news that these people did not know about second-breakfasts.

Ruth drove her cart away from the sawmill operation, and they headed towards the sideroad. When they reached that, she heard a small, squeaky voice: “We are the Entwives.”

She looked down, and there on the sideboard of the cart, was a small green woman, less than 10 inches tall. You could only see her from the waist up, with the rest of her embedded in the wood. She pulled her legs and finally they popped out of the wood. “Maple, not my favorite,” the tiny woman said. “I much prefer ash or poplar.” She was naked, although so small it didn’t seem odd.

“Did you say you were an Entwife?” Ruth asked. The Grimm brothers were crowding around her, looking closely at the fairy. Ruth wasn’t sure if it was because she was so small, or because she was so naked. She suspected the latter.

“Yes, although we haven’t heard the word for years. The old hobbit keeps over 100 of us in his grove, where we have to tend his trees. We make them grow at triple the normal rate, so he can continually harvest wood from the copse. He calls us dryads.”

“We are on a quest to find the Entwives,” Ruth told her. “We want to take you back to Fangorn to bond with the Ents.”

“Fangorn,” the dryad whispered. “That is like heaven to us. A few of the oldest remember it, but the rest of us only know of it by their stories. My name is Borea. Could you take us back?”

“I want to, but I don’t know how,” Ruth said.

“Do you have money?” Borea said.

“Yes, quite a bit,” Ruth said.

“Well, for our people to move, we must move within wood. We die within hours if kept from trees … or Ents. So we need wood to travel. The old Hobbit has wood. Normally he doesn’t sell it except to other hobbits of his type. But he does have needs for man-money from time to time. He has a hobbit-friend of his own that will go into town and buy supplies.”

“Would he sell to us?” Ruth asked.

“If he needs money he will. And if you say the wood is for the northern hobbits, then he is more likely to. He will ask a quarter silver per board. How much silver do you have? He will not take coppers.”

“I only have four, so we could buy 16 boards, and take 16 of you away,” Ruth said.

“We have eight silver,” Jacob said. “So that is another 32 boards.”

“That is all your little cart will hold,” Borea said. “I’m afraid you will have to walk.”

They continued making a plan. Stealth was needed, as the old hobbit should not know that some of his sylphs were escaping. As the wood was being sawn for the order, Borea would dart from tree to tree in the copse, with her sisters leaving their tree and flying into the boards being loaded into the cart. Borea was going to stay in her place in the handle of the cart, and invite another younger Sylph for the other handle. The backboard of the cart was also large enough to take away someone. There could be as many as 51 Entwives fleeing.

“What about food for all of you?” Ruth asked.

“We are fed through our trees, or the wood we inhabit. You need not worry.”

The plan was put into motion, and Ruth again drove her donkey’s down the little lane. The old hobbit saw them coming, and stopped work on his mill again.

“What do you want,” he snarled. “I told you the Entwives are all far to the south.”

“Yes,” Drogo said. As the eldest hobbit in the group, he had been appointed spokesperson. “But when we were here last several of us noticed your fine hobbit wood. We have some man-silver, and would like to buy it. It is well known across the country that your wood is resistant to rot, and lasts a long time in hobbit holes.”

“That it does,” the old hobbit said. “I didn’t know that our fame had reached the north. How much wood do you need? Or more importantly, how much man-silver do you have? I am running short of man-silver, and could use a bit more.”

Bargaining took several more minutes, with Drogo getting the 4 per silver price, although he did have to feign turning around and leaving to get that price. The old hobbit started up the mill, and two of his helpers started loading wood into the wagon. As soon as they turned their backs, a sylph would appear and disappear into the wood. The old hobbit was too busy concentrating on his cuts to notice.

Within an hour the 48 pieces were cut, and the old hobbit scooped up the dozen coins from off the tree stump where Drogo had been told the leave them. “Now git,” he said. “And don’t come back looking for more. This man-silver will last me for years. I don’t plan to start trading again in the future.”

“When the cart was on the road, with hobbits and humans walking alongside, a curious humming could be heard from the wood. “My sisters are singing,” Borea said. “They are happy. We are returning to our Ents. You have to realize that we have been over 1000 years without male companionship.”

“How exactly do Ents and Entwives ‘do it’,” Jacob asked.

“Jacob! That might be a bit personal,” a shocked Ruth said.

“No, no. It is quite all right,” Borea said. “When we get to the Ents, one Entwife will leave her piece of wood here, and transfer to the Ent. We expect most of them will be asleep, probably pretty deeply. But as long as they have not become a tree, then we can still mate with them. Of all the creatures on the world, the Ent/Entwives have the greatest disparity in sizes. And as females we live in our Ents for the rest of our lives.”

“I won’t detail the union itself,” she continued, “but basically we have to go into a knot in the wood of the Ent. We ‘do the deed’ and then pull back and wait. Conception happens every time, and then there is a period of 60 years before the Entling is ready to be born.”

“You are pregnant for 60 years?” a shocked Ruth commented.

“Yes, but it is not really the Entwife who is pregnant, as the Entling develops in the Ent, and not our body. After the 60 years, it will drop off the Ent, and fall to the ground. We then move the Entling far enough away from the Ent so that it will receive light and water, and care for it for the next 200 years, at the end of which it will join with a new Entwife and mate with her. The Entwives simply clone themselves, although not from the mother, but a nearby Entwife.”

“It seems complicated. And time consuming,” Jacob said.

“Well, it is what we are used to. And time to an Ent is different from humans and hobbits with their short little lifespans. We live for eons. In fact we expect when we get back to Fangorn most of the Ents will be so deeply asleep that it will take them several pregnancies before they waken. Having young Ents around when they do will energize them. I don’t expect many Ents to be awake for the first 200 or 300 years. But we can mate with them while asleep, and once they bud an Entling, we will mate them again. We hope there will be three or four Entlings when the Ents finally awaken.”

“You can tend to that many Entlings at once?” Wilhelm asked.

“Oh yes. It can actually be quite boring tending just one. Human mothers tend several children at the same time, don’t they? Entwifes are the same. We like it when we have several Entlings at different stages.”

“What do you do to raise them,” Jacob asked.

“The most important thing is to transplant them if they need to be in a different area. They need sun in their leaves and water for their roots. In a dry year we bring water to them.”

“I can’t imagine that a creature your size can carry very much water,” Ruth said.

“Heavens no. Carrying water?” Borea giggled. “We don’t carry the water. We go underground and sing it to the roots of our Entlings.”

They proceeded in such a manner all the way back to Tharbad, where Ruth again noted a dire need for a healer. The Brothers were greeted warmly by the tavern owner, who immediately offered them free rooms, if they would tell their tales.

Ruth immediately went into the town and began visiting the ill and injured, slowly restoring her hoard of coin. The Entwives and wagon were put into the stables. They needed little tending, so long as the wood was dampened every other day, to prevent it from drying out and killing the Entwives. The hobbits, as might be expected, just disappeared, coming out for meals and to sleep in Ruth’s room. (She was used to sleeping near the little people, since her time in the forest.)

The next morning the healer woke with a pain in her back. She healed herself, and then investigated. There was a hobnail in the bed about the size of a pea that irritated her back as she slept.

The tavern owner was busy preparing for the fair coming up in a few days, and instead of fixing the problem just had seven more mattresses brought up and piled on Ruth’s bed. That night she again had trouble sleeping, even though she was much higher than before. A mattress in that inn was rather thin, about two inches, leaving Ruth floating 16 inches above the bed, which was less than comfortable.

For the rest of the day, a slight tapping could be heard in the room, but any maid entering would see nothing. As soon as she left, the hobbits would come out and start to work again, using their hammers to try and pound the nail into the wood. Two of them, Drogo and Bodo were miners, and they took turns hitting the nail. Merry and Pippin took over occasionally, but were less adept at driving the hobnail into the wood.

Just before dinner that innkeeper came into the room, with the biggest man Ruth had ever seen. He barely was able to get through the door, with his huge, muscled body. He carried a hammer.

“I need the extra mattresses,” the innkeeper said. “People are coming in for the fair, and we are going to set up a space above the stables. Most will sleep on the floor, but I can get a copper more if they want a mattress. Kon will fix the problem. He is the inn blacksmith.

Kon didn’t say much. Well, anything. Maids carried away the extra mattresses, and the man-mountain felt the hobnail, which had been driven half way into the wood by the hobbit hammering. He took his own hammer, bigger than any hobbit, and struck the nail once. When Ruth looked, she saw that his single blow had set the nail a good half inch into the wood.

“Thank you kind smith,” she said. Kon just nodded to her and then squeezed out through the door to the room. As soon as the smith and innkeeper left, hobbits started to appear.

“One blow did more work than all the swings we made,” an amazed Pippin said.

“Bah,” Drogo answered. “Given time we would have solved the problem. But this does mean the lady can sleep tonight.”

The Grimm brothers, who were doing both matinee and evening readings were thrilled to hear of the tale.

“The Healer and the Hobnail,” Jacob said. “A new story.”

He and his brother then rattled off ideas for the story, thrilling Ruth that she herself was going to be in a tale. After dinner the brothers went back to the inn for another show, and Ruth went out to make a few more healing calls. That night the exhausted healer came back to her bed and collapsed into it, not even realizing that the hobnail was gone.

It was two nights later when Ruth finally got a chance to listen to the Grimms in the crowded barroom. The owner allowed her to stand behind the bar: there just wasn’t anywhere else to stand. She was surprised to hear the story called The Princess and the Pea, which was a variation on her story. In it was a princess, and the hobnail had become a pea.

At breakfast the next day, she asked the brothers about it. “Yes, it is your story,” Wilhelm admitted. “But don’t think it isn’t you in it. We just felt a princess worked better for the story. Consider yourself a princess now.”

Ruth laughed: “I am just a poor farmgirl. I shall never be a princess.”

“You might be,” Jacob said. “And if you are, what a story it will make for us.”

“I think we will leave tomorrow,” Ruth said. “Let the barkeep know. I’m sure he will want to get these two rooms open for the rest of the fair.”

Ruth had only a few calls that day, and went to the fair. The hobbits accompanied her, knowing that it would be easy to be hidden in such large crowds. Ruth had again amassed quite a hoard of silvers and coppers, and she went into the fair with glee. She found some amazing cloth from the east, including something called velour, which had the feel of fur, but was much thinner. She bought two rolls in contrasting colors, wondering if she could make it into a dress.

Her other major purchase was at the inn itself. She bought a pony cart and a pony from Kon, who managed to conduct the entire sale without speaking a single word. It helped that she had run her hands over those muscular arms, healing little tears and breaks inside to ease the smith’s arms while at the same time removing the exhaustion he was feeling from all the work the fair had brought him.

That night hobbits moved the wood from the donkey cart to the pony cart while the stable boys slept. Early the next morning the Grimms got their coppers changed to silvers, with the innkeeper glad to have more of the small coins to use as change. The Grimms were leaving with a good collection of silver, while Ruth was nearly broke. But she could make some coin healing on the way home, while the brothers probably wouldn’t get a chance to perform again.

They were barely out of the town when Jacob leaned over to Ruth and asked. “When you were telling us all about the stories you didn’t know, you mentioned a weaver with a funny name.”

“Rumpelstiltskin,” Ruth said. “And he was a spinner, not a weaver. Why?”

“I just think he has to have a tale of his own,” Jacob said. “I was thinking of that old hobbit that sold us the wood. He would make an excellent model for the spinner, wouldn’t he.”

“Well, Rumpelstiltskin was a man, not a hobbit,” Ruth ventured. “But with that aside, then yes, there are many similarities.

And the quest continued homeward.

A Gentle Soul - Conclusion

Here is the conclusion to the story. I apologize to those who liked the fairy tales in the story. The Grimm brothers do not play much of a role in this one: Dawn.

The company made its way into Southfarthing, where they broke up. The hobbits left for Fangorn with the pony cart containging the wood (and Entwives) while Ruth rode her little donkey cart pulled by Hansel and Gretel on towards her home.

Just prior to getting home, the Grimms bought a pair of horses with their pub earnings from a farmer Ruth recommended, and headed into the capital, where they hoped their stories would be as popular as they had been on the road. When she arrived home, Ruth quietly let her donkeys loose, knowing there were no straw houses in the area for them to molest.

The new house was much larger than the old hut, and Ruth went to the side door leading to the kitchen. The first to see her was little Mary, who screamed “Roof” and ran to her. Her mother looked up, and also ran from the stove to hug her Gentle Soul.

“Don’t let the soup burn,” Ruth chastised, and then noticed another woman in the kitchen. Her mother now had a maid, an older woman whose husband had died in a farming accident. Ruth’s father Moses was now an unofficial squire to the area, and the family was prospering due to income Ruth had acquired as a healer.

“Your father has a guest, but I think he would like to see you immediately,” Miriam said. “He is in the parlor.”

In the parlor Ruth tapped the door, then entered. Her father also ran to her and hugged her deeply, only relaxing when he realized that his guest might feel the actions were unsquirelike.

“My lord,” Moses said. “My daughter has just returned from a months-long quest. I apologize for my show of emotions.”

“Nonsense, man,” the visitor said, and Ruth got a good look at the tall, well-built young man. She recognized him instantly.

“I know you,” the Earl said. “You were here years ago when I was gleaning the area for men and supplies for a raid on the south. You looked different then. More like a boy, if I remember.”

Ruth smiled. “I remember. I hope that you did not think badly of my father when I ran away to avoid your army. He did try to find me, but I made it into the fairy woods, and … was changed, somewhat.”

“She came back a healer,” Moses bragged. “She is the source of my good fortune since that time.”

“And it is my excellent timing to meet you today,” the earl said. “We in the capital heard of a powerful healer in this area, and I sent for you. A replacement healer came first, but was unable to help, and was sent back. My mission was to find you, and take you with me to the castle. My father is very ill, and I hope to keep myself from becoming Duke for a few more years. Will you attend him?”

“Of course my lord. I suppose I must, since my father did offer you my services those years ago. This time I am ready to serve,” Ruth said. With that she got the Earl to describe the symptoms of the illness, which seemed very much like a familiar ailment.

“My Lord,” she said. “This sounds like the wasting disease.”

“That is what the castle healers said, and the blonde healer that attended. They claim there is no cure. But I have heard that you have been able to heal it.”

“I cannot make a promise,” Ruth said. “Sometimes I can heal it, other times I cannot. Your father seems to be in the latter stages. He should be fine for several more weeks, although in great pain. I would come at once, if you require it, but …”

“But you have been away from your family for months. If I give you a month, will you then come?”

“I think it should be a week,” Ruth said. “If we wait longer, we may be too late for a cure.”

“As you say,” the Earl said. “In that case you may arrive in time for the Prince’s gala. He seeks a bride, and has requested all the most beautiful young maidens of the land attend. You certainly qualify.”

Ruth blushed. “It is not for some vainglorious Prince that I come, it is to see if I can help your father.”

“None-the-less, it would be best if you arrive in time for the gala. If you showed up a day or two later, while the Prince is still visiting, he may feel I was hiding you away. Your appearance at the gala, even if only for an hour or so, will prevent bad feelings. The prince and the duchy are at odds over several things, not the least the agreement my grandfather made with his that made the duchy self governing and independent of his father, the King.”

“A gown will be required,” the young Earl said. “Do you require funds to pay for such?”

“No my lord. My father is prominent in the district, and we have done well, unless things have changed while I was away. We can provide a gown.”

Two or three times Ruth tried to excuse herself from the meeting between the men, but the Earl seemed reluctant to let her leave. Finally he announced: “I feel you want to get back to the rest of your family. There was a secondary reason for my visit. Word is that your father has become a leader in this area, and I have decided to name him Squire of the county. An official ceremony will be held in the castle in the spring, where my father will confirm the title. If things go well. I guess it will be my honor otherwise.”

The Earl left, with his several men who had stayed in the background. One was a scribe, and he left Moses with an elaborate parchment that the Earl signed, naming him Squire. Of course Moses could not read, but Ruth read it to him that night at supper, to the pleasure of the entire family.

That night was glorious to Ruth. Mary insisted on sitting on her lap the entire time, other than dinner. Ruth’s father summed up the families financial position, and Ruth added the money she had earned on her trip home to the pot.

The next morning dressmaking was the focus. Ruth showed her mother the velour fabric from the south, amazing the older woman. Such a fine material was unknown in this area, even in the capital, and the women were more than a little afraid of cutting the soft material to make a dress.

Miriam had made many dresses in her life, but never a gown. Ruth described what she wanted, and the new Squire’s wife sketched out the pieces with a soft white stone on the fabric. The dress would be floor length at the back, but in the front the hem would rise up about eight inches. Miriam was scandalized, but did as her daughter asked. The bell sleeves and a sash were in the contrasting color, and even though the sleeves ended above the elbow, freestanding cuffs in the contrasting color were cut.

The latter were to give little Mary a hand in the production. Nearly five now, she begged to help, and Miriam cut out the cuffs, and hemmed them, then passed them over to the little girl who took a needle and thread and sewed on the buttons, with her tongue stuck out of her mouth the entire time.

After the material had been cut and fitted, Miriam took to sewing pieces together. Ruth helped, but then took her donkey cart into town to see the shoemaker. She had a daring idea, and although he resisted, he finally gave in when he learned that she was going to wear the shoes before the Prince at a gala.

It was back to the house for more sewing, and more fitting. Little Mary appeared with her cuffs, and Miriam shook her head glumly when she saw them. The girl had sewn and sewn and there was a ball of thread bigger than the button on each cuff. Miriam sent Mary off to the kitchen for something.

“I can cut out a new pair tomorrow. It won’t take long.”

“You will not,” Ruth insisted. “These were made by my little sister with all the love she has for me. I will wear them with pride, and every time I see those little globs of thread I will think of her, and smile.”

The gown was perfect. One of the boys took the donkey cart into town and picked up the shoes. Miriam gasped when she saw them. They were low peasant shoes, but the shoemaker had found a gold-color leather for them. Ruth had taken the idea from an early version of Cinderella, before the shoes were changed to glass slippers. Miriam could now see why the front hem was higher. It allowed continual glimpses of the little gold shoes as she walked.

On the day of the gala, a carriage appeared from the capital at dawn, and Ruth went off to the celebration. Due to poor weather over the last week, the carriage was slow, and as a result Ruth was one of the last attendees to arrive. She got out of the muddy carriage, thanked the driver, to his surprise, and went up the steps to the castle, where she was required to give her name to the footman there.

“Miss Ruth Miriamdottir,” the man announced, and she walked into the gala. The first thing she noticed was that there was a three or four to one ratio of women to men. Of course, since this was a place for the Prince to meet women, that made some sense. It did make it hard for Ruth to find the Earl, however.

As she walked through the great hall, looking left and right, she could hear catty remarks from the women standing around in clusters, mainly about how out-of-style her dress was.

“And look at the cuffs,” said one buxom blonde. “They look like they were made by a child.”

“They were made by a child,” Ruth retorted to that particular comment. “A very special child who I love very much. Your gown is beautiful, but I suspect it was made by a tailor working for money. My gown was made by myself, with my mother and little sister helping. It was made with love, not money.”

The women just tittered and referred to her as ‘the farmer’s daughter.’ The fact that Ruth was a farmer’s daughter, and proud of it, made the barb sharper.

Finally Ruth had enough, she noticed a doorway out of the hall, and started towards it, walking faster and faster and finally running. She was in tears as she burst out into a garden and ran into a man.

“Sorry,” she sobbed, her eyes filled with tears. Then she wiped her eyes on one of the cuffs, and saw that it was the Earl, and he was holding her gently.

“My Lord, I am so sorry. These affairs are not to my liking. I shouldn’t have come. I don’t even have proper clothes.”

“Nonsense,” the handsome Earl said. “There is nothing wrong with your dress. Let me guess: some of the girls were teasing you about it.”

Ruth nodded.

“Well, mark my words, half of those who teased you will be wearing something similar at the next great ball.”

Ruth felt comfortable and safe with the Earl’s arms around her. The fact that he also seemed to enjoy it made it even more wonderful.

“Ascuse me, mithtress,” a voice from near the door said. “I thaw you looth your thoe.” The woman held out Ruth’s right shoe, which had come off in her mad dash to the garden. The woman had a terribly cleft palate, making her speech difficult and marring what otherwise would be a pretty face. She kneeled down in front of Ruth and slid the shoe back on.

“That ith a bootiful dreth,” she said. “Tho it ith not for one like me to thay.”

“Come,” Ruth said and as the girl stood close Ruth placed her hands on the girls face. For a moment it seemed that nothing was happening, then the girl’s eyes went wide in surprise. A minute later Ruth pulled her hands away, and the girl’s mouth was healed with no trace of the former injury.

“My Lady,” the girl said with no trace of a lisp. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“What is your name, girl?” the Earl said.

“Elizabeth, my lord,” the servant said, bowing.

“And what is your job in the castle?”

“Normally I turn the spit in the kitchen,” she said. “But the chamberlain wanted me to come here in case any of the gentlemen had too much to drink and soiled the garden. I was to clean up any messes. He will be so angry. I was not to allow any guests to see me in my rags.”

“Your dress is fine,” Ruth said. “Not appropriate for dancing at a ball, of course, but very good clothes from where I come from.”

“You are too kind, my lady,” Elizabeth said. “What did you do to me? My mouth feels so funny. Did you fix me?”

“I am a healer,” Ruth said. “I do what I can to help people.”

“But I cannot pay you,” she said. “I could never pay for what you have done for me.”

“Be my friend,” Ruth said. “Other than the two of you, I have not found many friends here at this party.

“And you need not worry about the Chamberlain,” the Earl said. “I will inform him that from this time forth you will be one of the maids in my room. A day maid.” He added the last so that Ruth would know that he did not intend to besmirch the girl’s honor. “And tonight you shall be our chaperone, since it is my wish to speak more of the lady and spare her the agonies of the gala.”

Ruth and the earl sat on a bench. No amount of urging could get Ruth to have the girl sit as well. Instead she stood behind them, ready to serve should it be needed. In spite of her kitchen-smeared dress, Elizabeth had a smile a mile wide at her new status: a smile she had never before been able to show.

Ruth told the Earl and the girl the story of Cinderella. Elizabeth was so much like Ella in the early parts of the story, and Ruth loosing a shoe mirrored the later part. She was near the end, where the handsome prince was going through the land to find out who fit into the glass slipper when a noise was heard at the entrance to the hall.

“Who is the handsome prince?” a deep voice said. “Me, I hope.”

Ruth looked up, and saw the Prince standing there, surrounded by three footmen and a gaggle of young women wishing to be close to him. More were flowing out for the door by the minute, and soon the garden was packed.

“Sean, my cousin,” the Prince said. “You are holding out on me. Who is this vision of beauty?”

“She is not for you,” the Earl said sternly.

“I would let her say so,” the prince said. “You are but a lowly Earl, soon to be a Duke I note, but still far below me. I am a prince. One day to be King. Surely she would prefer my company to yours.”

There was a gasp from the assembled women. None of them had heard anything so positive in their chasing after the Prince.

“Well then,” Ruth said slowly. “I have no vows to the Earl, but merely come to him as a healer. But I find him so far superior a man to yourself that I cannot contend. I therefore respectfully decline your offer, if that is what it is.”

Fire flashed in the Prince’s eyes. “You defy me?” he shouted. “I am the Prince of all the land. I can order the girl to attend me.”

“You cannot,” the Earl said with as much steel in his voice. “The Duchy is independent of the kingdom, thanks to the boon of your grandfather to mine, when our troops turned a decisive battle in our favor. The boon is that the Duchy is independent for all time.”

“A boon given can be a boon taken away,” the Prince growled. “Do you wish war with the Kingdom. I will crush you and then take what I wish.”

“I see my first impressions were right,” Ruth said. “It seems that you will take a woman against her will. We have a word for that in the Duchy, and severe penalties for those who do it.”

The Prince was livid. “I am the Prince. I am above the law. Mark my words, cousin-no-more. I shall attack this land and take what is my due.”

He then turned and pointed out 10 girls from the crowd who attended him. “Bring these and fix the wagons and carriages. I will leave this place until I can return at the head of the greatest army this piddling castle has ever seen.” He then strode out of the garden, taking his men and his harem with him.

Ruth noticed an official remained behind, staring at Elizabeth. “Chamberlain, attend,” the Earl said. “I would have the gala ended now that the guest of honor,” he nearly spat those words, “has left. It is my duty to my guests to say the closing remarks, but this young healer is here to tend to my father, and I would take her to him immediately. Please give the farewell, and my apologies. I feel none of my guests will take offense to my seeing to the needs of the Duke over them. And this girl,” he motioned to Elizabeth, is now one of my day maids. Make sure she is given suitable quarters, and suitable clothing.”

With that Ruth, Elizabeth, and the Earl hurried through the garden to another exit into the castle. After going through a warren of halls, they came to the sick room of the Duke. There were three doctors there, and more nurses. The Duke was in a great bed, breathing with a rattling rale. Ruth approached immediately, and put her hands on his chest. The sounds stopped, and his breathing eased immediately.

The doctors immediately started to ply her with questions, and Ruth had to ask them to leave, with only two of the nurses, the Earl, and Elizabeth allowed to remain.

It took all night, all the next day, and past midnight on a second evening before Ruth fell to the floor in a faint. The Earl carried her away to a bed, and as they left Sean heard his father say: “Who was that girl? I feel so … well.”

Ruth gained consciousness around noon, and Elizabeth fed her a half bowl of broth before she fell asleep again. When she awoke again it was past midnight, and Ruth said she was hungry. Elizabeth put a nurse next to her, and ran herself to the kitchens she knew so well, and started warming some soup and leftover stew.

The noise in the kitchen alerted several of the staff, including the cook, who stared at the girl’s beautiful face. “What happened to you?” the cook asked.

“I was healed by a lady,” Elizabeth said. “The Earl has promoted me to work upstairs. The lady has been ill, after healing the Duke, who is now well. I must take these to her, so that she can get well.”

This time Ruth finished both the stew and the soup. “Have you eaten, my dear?” she asked Elizabeth.

“Only the half bowl of soup you couldn’t finish last night,” Elizabeth said.

“Oh dear, and this time I have left nothing for you. Go you down to the kitchens and feed yourself. I am well now. I will have a little sleep, and when morning comes you must lead me through this place to where I need to be. I hope I can see the Earl again.”

Elizabeth again went down to the kitchen, where there were more questions as she ate a meal the cook had made for her. She told those assembled how Ruth had healed her with only her hands, and then healed the Duke, who the doctors said was dying. She mentioned Ruth’s kindness to her, and how it seemed to rub off on the Earl, who had also treated her as a person, and not just a functionary.

When morning came, Ruth awoke to find Elizabeth opening the curtains to her room. The girl was in a clean and new-looking uniform. “How did I come to be here?” the healer asked.

“The Earl himself carried you here. It is one of the best rooms in the castle.”

“Oh yes, I remember feeling safe and secure after I collapsed. The wasting disease is very taxing on a healer, and the Duke’s case was the worst I have ever faced.”

“We are wanted to breakfast in an hour,” Elizabeth said. “The Earl has named me your personal maid while you remain with us. I have ordered a bath, and there have been some clothes brought as well. I assume you will not want to wear your gown from the gala again.”

“No, certainly not,” Ruth said. “And a bath sounds wonderful.”

It was the first time Ruth had ever had a bath in a wooden tub. On the farm she had bathed in the river with her mother and sisters, but this tub of nearly hot water was just what she needed. Having Elizabeth standing beside the tub to scrub her back and hand her towels was a luxury for the young healer.

“This breakfast gown will do,” the maid said.

“It is a bit ornate,” Ruth noted.

“Yes, but you will be eating with the Duke and the Earl. Some degree of opulence is needed.”

When they were dressed, the maid led Ruth through another different maze of tunnels, finally coming out on a balcony. As they entered, an older woman rushed over and put her arms around Ruth, gushing: “You have restored the love of my life. I can never repay you.” Ruth guessed, correctly, that this was the Duchess, and Sean’s mother.

An elderly man then rose, looking hale and healthy. “I too thank you,” the Duke said. “Ask anything of the kingdom and it is yours.”

“You are looking much better than the last time I saw you,” Ruth said. “Are there any pains? Tingles in the limbs? A cough, perhaps?”

“No, none,” the Duke said. “I feel better than I have felt since Sean was born, and that is getting close to a quarter century. Will you stay and be my personal physician?”

“I will stay. For a while,” she said. “But not to be your personal physician. There are many ill people in the city. I can feel it. I will help them. And if you or any of the castle fall ill I will help them. But I need to keep using my talents for the people or the lady Goldberry may take them away.”

“First we dine. I see you have a new maid. She will serve you?”

“No, Elizabeth is my friend. She will eat as I do.” There was a gasp, from the three ducal rulers, and even larger gasp from Elizabeth. But the largest gasp was from the other four servants in the room plating food and setting it out. They had never heard of a servant being asked to eat with the Duke.

“I cannot deny the one who saved my life,” the Duke said. “Your maid will sit with us.”

Elizabeth protested, and Ruth relented when she saw how embarrassed the situation was making the girl. She compromised, saying that Elizabeth should sit at a smaller table in the room. Then she added that the other four servants would join her once their duties were completed. This brought forth a new chorus of gasps.

The servants took turns eating with Elizabeth, with two eating as two others served the family and Ruth, then switching. During the meal, talk turned to the Prince, and his hasty retreat. Apparently the Duke’s spies were reporting that the Prince was raising levies, and planned to attack the Duchy.

“A battle on two fronts can never by won,” the Duke lamented.

“Only one front, my lord and father,” Sean said. “We have not attacked the south for several years, and while you were ill, I made trade overtures to them. They were well received. I cannot imagine that they will ally with us when the Prince attacks, but they will not interfere.”

“Bah, what good comes from the south,” the Duke disparaged.

“There are many good things from the south,” Ruth said. “I was at a fair in Tharbad not a month ago, and the array of goods was astonishing. Elizabeth, would you please run and get my gown from the gala? I think the Duchess would like to see it.”

The girl ran off immediately, and then Sean spoke. “Ruth, you healed Elizabeth so effortlessly, yet curing father took all of your powers. The doctors said you would never revive. Why is this?”

“Healed the girl?” the Duke interrupted.

“Oh my,” the Duchess added in awe. “She is the poor girl in the kitchens with the ruined face. I thought I recognized her. She is beautiful now.”

“Yes,” Ruth steered the conversation back to Sean’s question. “I can cure many in a short time. It is only the wasting disease that takes so much energy from me.”

“What I was wondering,” the Earl said, “was if you could heal war injuries. Arrow wounds, sword slashes, the like. How many could you cure in a few hours?”

“Arrows and slashes are relatively easy. Stop the blood flow, heal the wound. Most men with injuries of that type could fight again the next day.”

The Duke gasped. “Right now we send physicians to the front, but they generally amputate a limb, if they can save the man at all. To have the wounded back in the battle the next day …”

“ … would turn the tide of a war,” Sean answered. “In most battles there are 400 wounded and 100 killed on each side, per 1000 troops. If we could put 900 of those into battle against the remaining 500 of the enemy on the following day, we would win continually. Let the Prince come.”

While Ruth and the men were talking, Elizabeth returned with the robe, and placed it on the lap of the Duchess.

“I want this,” she said firmly. She turned to her son. “Make this trade thing happen.”

---- ------ ----

Ruth spent the next four weeks wandering through the city, although this time there was a castle guard of four accompanying her at each stop. She worked her charm on the soldiers, buying them food and drink through the day, and treating them civilly. Word got around in the barracks, and healer-guard became the favored duty of all, even above guarding the great room when the Duke was in attendance.

The people of the city also grew to love her, with those who were wealthy happy to pay for the healing of themselves and their loved ones. But the poor of the city were most taken with the pretty healer. She healed them without any payment expected or given. What’s more, she treated them as equals, claiming only to be a poor country girl who was blessed with healing powers.

During that month Sean had sent emissaries to the south, and announced a great fair in the city for the fall. Traders all over the south responded, since there was a gap in the fair schedule that would allow them to come north, and return home before winter hit.

The Duke’s spies reported that the Prince had been irate on hearing of the fair. He considered that by that time he would have cleaned up the Duke’s ragtag army. He decided that he would merely seize all the trade goods and kill the traders, profiting to defray the costs of the war. The balance of the cost would be taxed out of the Duchy.

These same spies reported that the Prince planned to bring 10,000 men to the Duchy, the vast majority of the Kingdom’s army. The Earl gathered 5000 levies, and thought it might be enough, with Ruth’s aid.

At the border the Prince sent a force of 3000 though the pass between the lands, and Sean was waiting with half his force, 2500. Sean won the battle, but the cost was enormous, with him losing 250 men. The Prince lost 300, and 1200 wounded, most of whom where left on the battlefield. The Prince expected to win a war of attrition.

But yhen he sent another force of 3000 out, again to lose by the same edge, all of Sean’s injured were ready for battle, although left in reserve while the other half of the Ducal army fought.

On the third day, the Prince rode at the front of his army, expecting only a thousand or so troops left in the Ducal forces. To his surprise, there were over 5000 men facing him, outnumbering him.

Ruth had cured all of the Ducal injured, and then had moved on to the enemy troops that had been left on the battlefield. They expected the Duke’s men sent out to clear the field to slit their throats, but instead they were gently piled onto wagons and brought back to the camp. Once Ruth had cured her own people, she started on the enemy wounded, and the men were astonished to be healed, when the best they could have hoped for was to lose an arm or leg. The Prince was not loved by his men, and many switched sides immediately. Thus the entire left flank facing him was of his own former soldiers.

The battle went poorly for the Prince, who fled the battle early when it was clear that his troops were being slaughtered. When he was seen running, his troops waved a white flag, and to their surprise it was honored. They were even more surprised to see how the Duke treated their wounded, and the honorable burial he provided their dead, when the normal practice of the time was to build a cairn and burn the enemy dead in a pile.

Thus it was that Sean marched over the pass unopposed and had an army of nearly 12,000 troops surrounding the King’s palace two weeks later. Those troops who had joined the Ducal army were allowed leave to visit their loved ones, and the result of this was an increasing level of desertions from the dwindling royal army.

Finally, the King sent out an embassy, who were well treated. In return an embassy went to the palace. Ruth insisted on accompanying Sean.

Finally they were in the throne room, with an aged looking King slumping on the throne. “So you have defeated my idiot son,” the King said. “Apparently his great battle prowess was not enough to win even with 2 to one odds in his favor.”

“We only seek peace between our lands,” the Earl said. “Our grandparents knew that we would each grow stronger as friends than enemies. We should honor their wisdom.”

“Honor this,” the Prince yelled from the back of the room. He had grabbed a crossbow from a guard, and let fly, with the bolt crashing through the ceremonial breastplate the Earl wore and imbedded itself in his chest. “And she will be mine.”

The King gasped. An Embassy in his palace had been breached, and by his own son. He had enough. “Disarm that fool and take him to the tower,” the old man ordered. The Prince was bound and carried away, cursing at the men who held them, vowing that he would have their heads when he became King.

When Sean slumped to the floor, Ruth caught him and eased him down. She ordered the largest of the guard with them to pull out the bolt, and had another take the armor off. Meanwhile she had her hands inside his clothing, and soon found the wound. A week of dealing with battle wounds had left her adept at healing this type of injury, and in a moment the Earl was moaning, to the amazement of all the King’s attendants who thought they had just witnessed a murder. Another moment later and he cautiously got to his feet, a bit unsteady, but standing.

“The Duchy does not blame you for this,” he told the King. “I still seek peace between our lands.”

“You are a good man,” the King said. “I feared that your men would be ravaging my city in revenge before the night ended, and instead you still offer peace. At the least my son will be banished from the Kingdom, but I am old and ill and my only other son lies near death. The Prince will return when I die, and will again hold the power of the Kingdom.”

Ruth heard the King say the word “ill” and perked up. She walked up to the King. A guard stepped in front of her, but she just stared at him until he backed off. She put her hands on the head of the King and concentrated.

“You have been poisoned,” she said. “There, it is gone.”

“Treason,” the word flitted about the room. Several troops were sent to the kitchen to bring forth all the staff there for an investigation. Meanwhile, Ruth had moved to the Queen and cured her of the same poisoning. She then followed the woman to the sick room of her six-year-old son, who was very near death. It took a full 15 minutes to heal him, but when she left he was a normal young boy, bouncing around and eager to find out what had happened.

Ruth returned to the throne room in time to find that two servants had admitted to poisoning the royal family on the orders of the Prince, who was anxious to take the throne for himself. “You know this is treason,” the King said gravely. “I sentence you both …”

“Please, your highness,” Ruth begged. “Ask them why they did such a vile thing?”

“As you wish,” the King said. “Speak.”

The taller of the two servants fell to his knees, not expecting to be able to plead for his life. “I admit that we did it, and it was wrong. And we knew it was wrong. We were dead men the moment the Prince proposed his plot. But he told us that if we didn’t do his bidding, then he would kill our families, down to the cousins. We had no choice.”

The other man nodded in agreement. “I see. I sentence you to … banishment from the Kingdom for all time. I leave you two weeks to wrap up your affairs here, and to leave.”

“That is about the time that our army is due to leave,” Sean said. “They will accompany us, and live in the Duchy. Not as castle staff, but small farms will be found for them.”

“I wish that you were my son,” the King said. “My younger son is only six. Would you take him with you, so that he can learn royal duties properly? And be his regent should I die before he is of age?”

“I will. And I know that a mother never wishes to loose a son, so once a year he will spend two weeks vacationing here in the palace, where he can meet with his people and his army.”

“The army is another matter. You have taken most of my men. I am left defenseless should any other army attack,” the King lamented.

“Your men hate the Prince, not you or Raoul,” the Earl said. “If the Prince is gone, they will return to your army, most of them. They have family here, and love their country. I will allow you to take any that wish to come back, so long as you allow the ones who choose to stay with me to bring their families back to the Duchy.”

“Now it is time to deal with the traitor,” the King said. “Send a guard to the tower to bring him here.”

“If we might, your highness,” Ruth suggested. “The Earl and I would like to be part of that guard.”

The King smiled. “Excellent. Let those who he offended most bring him back. With a guard of eight.”

In the tower the door opened into the most sumptuous jail cell Ruth could imagine. Carpets covered the floors, and tapestries the walls. The furnishings were suitable for a noble detainee. Lounging on a sofa was the Prince. He smiled when he saw her, and swung his feet to the floor, starting to get up.

“So, with your little Earl gone you have changed your mind? You seek the Prince after all. I knew you would.”

Then Sean stepped into the room behind her, and the Prince stumbled backwards flopping onto the sofa. “But you … I … How …” he mumbled.

“Your plans did not work,” Sean said. “The King orders you to return to the throne room to hear his judgment.”

“Bah, he is weak,” the Prince boasted. “I shall be King is a few weeks, and then you will feel the wrath of the entire kingdom.”

“Yes, I know. We are suffering greatly from your wrath right now,” Sean said sarcastically. “With all my soldiers, and many of yours surrounding the city.”

“My soldiers joined you? Traitors.”

“That might not be the best word for you to use right now,” Ruth suggested.

Back in the Throne room the Prince was surprised to see a fit and able King sitting on the throne, and his little brother playing on the floor in front of his father’s feet. His mother also looked healthy. For the first time, the Prince saw his plans falling to pieces, and he sagged a bit. But only for a second.

“You were a prince, and a son of mine,” the King intoned. “Now you are neither, just a subject awaiting his doom from the King. On the first count, you betrayed the trust of embassy by attacking another in this very room.”

“But he stands here unharmed,” the Prince said, thinking he might be able to talk his way out of this. “Embassy protects embassadors from being harmed. He is not harmed. I am innocent of this.”

“Perhaps, but the second count is that you committed treason, by inciting poisoning of the royal person, his consort, and his youngest … his only son,” the King said. “How plead you?”

“Innocent, of course,” the Prince said smugly. “I know nothing of any poison. I cannot prove that there was none. You look much better today than yesterday, but it is not of my hand if there was poison. What evidence is there?”

“These two men have testified that they did the poisoning,” the King said.

“Then there is your treason, hang them. Kill them.” He attempted to grab another crossbow to do the deed himself (and to silence their voices), but this time the guard held it firmly.

“These men testified that their families were in danger if they disobeyed you,” the King said.

“Then they and all their people are dead,” the Prince shouted in rage, and then stopped dead, realizing he had just implicated himself.

“They are not. And should some in the room feel that their Prince has given them a command, I will tell them that he is no longer a Prince, and can no longer protect them. If any of these men’s families are harmed in any way, the court will find out by whose hand. And that person or persons will not merely die, they will be sent to the dungeon. Torture has not been used in this Palace for 30 years, but in this case of treason it will be.”

“Now my … subject. By your own admission you were involved in this treason, and your fate is thus. Tomorrow morning, at first light, you will be taken to the tower and your head will be removed from your body. Although I would rather you hang by the neck and become raven’s food, I will grant you a royal death since you were once my son.”

----- - -- ----- -

Two weeks later the armies split up. Nearly 1000 men opted to move to the Duchy, where they were to be given land and allowed to build homes. The other soldiers rejoined their families, ready for the next call of their liege. The troops were inspected by their King, and the new Crown Prince, a young boy who was much beloved by his people.

The old Crown Prince rested in a cage atop the tower, with his head several feet away, silently watching the ravens feast on his body.

There were cheers for all those who were present at the departure. The Earl was cheered as having liberating the people from an oppressive overlord. Word had gotten out that it was he who had urged the King to cut the heavy tax load in half, to compensate to the onerous taxes that the Prince had levied. It was actually Ruth who had first made the suggestion, that taxes be abolished for two years. The palace Chamberlain protested, saying the Kingdom could not exist without revenues. It was Sean who suggested the compromise: halving taxes for two years, then adjusting them as necessary.

There was a massive cheer for the Crown Prince. The little boy was beloved by all his subjects and when he promised to learn from the Earl how to be a wise and fair ruler, cheers rang out five times before they calmed down.

But even that did not compare to the cheers that came Ruth’s way when she waved to the crowd. She was beloved, no exalted, by the poor people of the city. She did not speak, but screams of joy rang out when Sean announced that she would return with the princeling when he came back each year for vacation.

Finally the party left and a week later were back at the castle. Ruth was thrilled to find her entire family there. The confirmation of her father as Squire had happened a week before, and when word of the return of the army was announced, they were allowed to stay to see them come home.

The Earl and the Squire met in a small room that first night, while Elizabeth and Ruth were taking Mary through the entire castle, from kitchens to armory, all to the delight of the little girl. There was another in the party as well. Raoul, the crown prince, had fallen in love with Ruth, and didn’t want to let her out of his sight, particularly in this old castle that was strange and different from the palace he had grown up in.

At one point, the children were lagging behind and Ruth turned and saw that her sister was walking hand-in-hand with the Crown Prince. I shall never be a queen, thank goodness, Ruth thought. But perhaps Mary might. Their father would have to be raised again, to knight, to make this possible, but if young Raoul sought it, she felt it could happen.

The secret of the meeting between Earl and Squire was revealed that evening at dinner, when Sean stood and told those assembled that he had asked for permission to wed Ruth. He got down on knee, and proposed, offering the girl a ruby ring.

“I accept,” Ruth said. “You are the only man I would ever marry.” Her little speech was ended abruptly when he kissed her deeply.

And they lived happily ever after.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

In summary, the inquest into the death of Michaela Stoner finds the death of this 15-year-old girl to be suicide, through the consumption of an overdose amount of Tylenol 3 pills. The deceased had been in severe depression due to the suicide death of a close friend nearly a year earlier. Staff at Ainsborough Middle School were aware of her depression and had taken all appropriate steps to notify the parents and other authorities of the possibility of problems. The Tylenol pills were in the deceased’s household to treat Andrea Stoner, mother of the deceased, for migraine headaches. The deceased apparently had been harvesting one or two pills a week from the bottle and hoarding them. Her diary claimed that she had collected 120 pills in this manner in the last entry. There were 23 pills left in the hoard, leading this inquiry to assume that 97 pills were ingested, well above the lethal amount for a person of the weight and age of the deceased. This inquiry ends with no recommendation of charges, and no recommendation for preventing future incidents. Sometimes when persons are committed to taking their life, there is nothing that the state can do to prevent it.

Middlesex Children’s Aid Society
May 9, 2017

Robert Cartwright, Age 9

Robert has been returned from care from a fourth foster family. In the past year Robert has been placed for a total of 10 months, with none of the placements lasting more that 3 months. Robert has been non-communicative with all foster parents (the number of placements was in hopes of finding that he would make a connection with one of them). Robert has been in CAS care since the suicide death of his sister in late March, 2104. Since that time he has been non-communicative, other than repeated mention of his late sister’s first name. He suffers nightmares nearly every night, and wakes screaming his sister’s name loudly, disrupting the foster households. His mother died several weeks ago by suicide. This fact has not been relayed to the boy on the grounds that it can only worsen his condition. It is recommended that he be placed in a psychiatric hospital and provided medication as needed until he is able to re-entry society.

July 6, 2017

WCB report
Arnold Keirhauff

Claimant, aged 53, has been off work for nearly three weeks, since being in an accident with a fatality. Claimant was not physically injured in the accident, caused when a suicide jumped off an overpass, striking his truck as he drove down the 401 expressway. The person died immediately, but claimant has been affected by the event, and no longer feels capable of driving. He finds that even driving his personal vehicle on the expressway is traumatic, and he pulls over at each overpass and slowly creeps through. Of course, this behaviour would not allow him to drive a semi truck, his livelihood for the past 32 years. Claimant is approved for workman’s compensation, so long as he sees a therapist regularly to seek treatment for his mental trauma. Compensation to continue for three years or less, after which time retraining to another profession will be recommended.

April 25, 2017
8:14 a.m.

Constable Steve Winslow, 34, jerked out of his sleep, with adrenalin racing through his body. The accident scene he had faced earlier this morning had happened again in a nightmare. The woman who had jumped off the bridge … the beautiful blonde, was just as pretty in the dream. Except this time she wasn’t dead yet. Her body was broken and bleeding, but now she was able to lift her head sharply and open those beautiful blue eyes and look at him.

“Help me,” she begged. That was the point he jolted into consciousness.

Steve sat in his bed for two hours unable to fall back asleep. He had never had nightmares like this before. Perhaps he should apply to the department for a work-related leave of absence.

Woodstock Police Department
Incident Report, Constable Steve Winslow
April 25, 2017

2:15 a.m. Culloden Road overpass, over Highway 401

Call received of person jumping from bridge over Highway 401. Deceased, Maria Cartwright, age 31, apparently walked four miles to reach the overpass, and jumped soon after arriving. She landed in the middle lane, and was struck by a transport truck almost immediately. Driver of the semi claims that the body didn’t seem to hit the ground before being struck, and physical damage to the grill of the truck corroborates this. To whit, the grill of the truck showed signs of impact several feet above the height of the woman. Investigation shows that the deceased was known to police, having been arrested, but not charged eight months earlier at a custody hearing for her son, who was then, and remains, in the custody of the Middlesex CAS. Deceased was terminated from her job at a local restaurant two months prior, on the basis that she was depressed and not able to perform waitress duties. No criminal charges laid or anticipated.

August 12, 2016

Justice Elizabeth Morgan sat in her judicial robes as she listened to the case. In her 20 years as a justice of the peace she hadn’t felt so moved by a case. The case in point was a request by a 31-year-old woman for custody of her 9 year old son. The boy had been taken from her by the CAS immediately following the suicide death of her other child, a 13-year-old girl. The boy apparently found the body of his sister hanging from a rafter in the garage of their rented home in a successful suicide. He became hysterical, and had to be taken to hospital for treatment. The CAS caseworker testified she not feel that the boy could be cared for by his mother, who worked long hours in a local café. He maintains that the woman’s emotional state is still not conducive to the level of care the boy needs. There is no doubt that the woman loves and cares for her son, but it was clear to Justice Morgan that the woman was still in grief for her daughter, and not capable of caring for a boy so troubled.

“I have considered this case thoroughly and completely,” she said. “The lawyers for the CAS have made a clear case why the custody of Robert Cartwright cannot be returned to his mother, Maria Cartwright, at this time.”

“Nooooo,” screamed the woman, who had pled her case without a lawyer. She jumped up and tried to get to the Justice. “You have to help me,” she cried, before being tackled to the floor by a police officer. She continued screaming, almost incoherently as she was handcuffed and led out of the chambers.

Convinced that she had made the correct decision, Justice Morgan continued reading her summary and decision into the court records once the woman had left the room and order was restored. She decided as she got up to leave that she would recommend that police not charge the woman for any further crimes. The poor thing did not need any additional pressures in her life.

April 25, 2016

It was nearly 7:30 when Maria Cartwright trudged home after a long shift at the café. It was not a lucrative living, but a woman who had gotten pregnant at 16 couldn’t expect much. Especially when her husband left her five years later, while she was pregnant with a second child. Her meagre, minimum-wage salary barely covered rent and food money for the three of them, and they depended on her tips for everything else. And tips at a café, often dimes and quarters, didn’t add up to much.

As soon as she opened the door to the house, she knew something was wrong. She could hear Bobby in his room, crying about something. Usually he was at the babysitters until she picked him up, but when she had walked past the babysitter’s house she had found it dark and no one answered the door. She felt relieved that Bobby was home, but wondered why he was crying. If that girl had hurt him …

She opened the door to his tiny room, and found it was empty. The sobbing was coming from the closet. She could make out the words now. He was sobbing and crying the name of his sister, Rachael. Maria pulled the boy, trying to get him to come out into the room, but he refused to move, and had wedged himself into the tiny closet so she couldn’t lift him out. She checked to make sure he wasn’t physically hurt, and then decided to leave him there. She stormed off to find her daughter, and learn what she had done to the boy.

The house was not big: only three bedrooms, all fairly small, and a bath, with a combined living/dining room and a kitchen. The attached garage was used by the landlord for storage, since Maria didn’t own a car. She saw Rachael’s backpack lying next to the little-used doorway to the garage. Why would she leave it there? Normally she dumped it on the floor inside the front door.

Maria opened the door, and noticed that the light was on. She screamed an ungodly screech as she looked in and saw the lifeless body of her daughter, dangling at the end of a rope tied to the rafter. Rachael’s face was deathly white, and her tongue stuck out of her mouth, blackened. She had defecated and urinated after death, leaving a strong stench. Maria ran up to her, hoping she was still alive, but when her hand touched her daughter’s cold, dry arm, she knew. She backed off in panic, called 911 and went to her son.

April 25, 2016
EMS call report
239 Pine Ave, Ingersoll
8:13 p.m.

Ambulance call received from distraught woman who failed to remain on the phone with 911. Door to residence was open, town police within. Police directed EMTs to two locations. A young woman and boy were found huddled in a closet while the other EMT found the body of a deceased hanging from a rafter in the garage. With assistance of the police the body was lowered and placed in the first ambulance for conveyance to the morgue in Woodstock. A second ambulance was called when it became clear that the other two patients were incoherent and unable to communicate. Both were taken to London University Hospital for psychiatric evaluation.

April 25, 2016
12:14

Rachael dropped her book bag at the door leading into the garage. Everything she needed had been in the garage last night. She had left school at noon, without permission of course, now it was nearly 1. Mom and Bobby wouldn’t be home for hours. She shook a bit, and then steeled herself. She had to do this. Life just sucked too much. When that bitch Glenda Moore had teased her about her hair at lunch today it was the last straw. The perky cheerleader with her big boobs thought she owned the place. Well, Rachael was checking out today.

She got the landlord’s stepladder out and set it up near the middle of the garage, the only uncluttered place left. There was about a fifteen-foot long piece of half-inch rope. Rachael had looked up how to create a noose online, but it seemed way too complicated. Another article showed a simpler slip knot, and she tied that instead. Then she climbed halfway up the ladder, and tried to toss the loop over the beam. She missed, and the rope dropped to the cement floor. She tossed again, and missed again. If I miss a third time, I’ll cancel the whole thing, she muttered to herself.

The third toss nearly went through the space she was aiming at, but at the last minute it seemed to stop and fall back, as though it was pushed. She stared at the rope lying on the floor. Dammit, two more tries, she said to herself. On the fourth try the rope slid through the hole and dropped several feet. She went up the ladder and gingerly grabbed the loop and pulled it down. The ladder teetered a bit, and Rachael worried that she might fall. She chuckled to herself at the idea of falling instead of killing herself. But it would be a disaster if she hurt herself enough that she couldn’t finish the job.

She pulled the loop down so it hung about seven feet from the floor. At 5’1” that was lots of clearance beneath, she thought. She then took the other end of the rope, and tied it off to a big hook on the back wall. Fittingly, it was the hook the rope had been hanging on. She yanked as hard as she could on the rope, and it seemed secure. She walked over to the ladder and stared at the loop on the other end for a long time. Finally she climbed up the ladder. Reaching over for the loop was tricky, with the ladder swaying a bit. But once she got the loop, and had it around her neck she didn’t have to worry about the ladder tipping. It would just speed things up.

Rachael stood on the ladder for a long time. Probably about 15 minutes. Two or three times she thought about getting down, and many times she thought about jumping. But she didn’t. Yet. Finally she leapt off the ladder, with her feet pushing it to the ground.

And then everything went black.

April 24, 2016
3:26 a.m.

Ron sat stunned as he watched the image of the young girl swaying at the end of the rope faded from view. He had just watched the series of vignettes unfold before him in what he was pretty sure was a dream. Except it was the most vivid and horridly real dream he had ever had.

“That is horrible, John,” he said to the angel sitting beside him on the side of his bed, who had shown him one scene after another. “So many lives ruined.”

“That is what we want to prevent,” St. John said. “She can do what she wants to herself. We even gave her one last chance by stopping the rope on her third toss. But she still went ahead. She is young, and didn’t think about it, but we can’t let her mess up the lives of three others too.” St. John didn’t look like an angel, being a bit overweight, and fairly short at 5’4”, wearing a white robe that looked religious. If he were standing, Ron would toweren over him at his nearly 6’2”. Ron Also was very overweight, although that isn’t unusual for 64-year-old men. He didn’t know how old St. John was. He looked about 40, but had mentioned that he had been doing things like this since the Middle Ages. Ron had been sceptical about the man’s claim that he was an angel until he had walked through an unopened door, and then had hovered several feet above the floor. Ron was not a religious person, but something filled his soul with a confirmation that this was an agent of God.

“What do I do?” Ron asked.

“You agree, or not. If you agree, you will become the girl. Seconds before she jumps. Then you just have to live her life in the best way you can. The better a person you are, the better your life will be. Improve the lives of people around you, and you will gain much more. Not wealth or beauty, or talent, but in health and happiness. And you may even get the talents, beauty and wealth, so long as it is health and happiness that matters most.”

“If you decide not to accept, you will wake from this feeling it had been a dream, and in an hour you will no longer remember it. You will live, but only for another 10 days. A heart attack will end things for you. There is no other second chance. We do reincarnations rarely, and seldom into a grown body. If you choose to do it, you will know who you are, who you were, and everything you now know. But you will never be able to tell any of it to anyone else. Not that anyone would believe you.”

“What do you decide?” the angel finally asked.

Ron thought it through. The girl, Rachael, was pretty average-looking. She was chubby with black hair that looked as if it had been recently hacked off with a pair of unsharpened scissors. She had almost no breasts at all, although at 13 that is not completely rare. Her mother in the vignettes was pretty, with a very large bust, cute face and long blonde hair. Perhaps the girl took after her father rather than her pretty mother.

Ron’s options were to die, and soon, or to get a second chance, albeit as a girl this time. That may not be a bad thing. He certainly hadn’t done all that great a guy, marrying only once, and seldom dating.

“You know I am not all that great of a Christian,” he told the angel. “Maybe you could choose someone better.”

“You did not attend church,” St. John said. “But you were a good person. You donated money to charities and individuals alike. You helped your neighbours without expecting anything in return, and even were good to people you didn’t know. That is the sign of a Christian … not regular church attendance.”

“I didn’t even believe in God,” Ron muttered, “but I guess all this proves that one wrong.”

“I’ll do it,” he said, suddenly wondering if he might wake up too soon and lose the chance.

And she woke up.

A Second Chance -- Chapter 2

By Dawn Natelle

TUESDAY, April 26, 2016
1:44 p.m.

Ron quickly realised he was not in bed any longer, but was standing on a rickety ladder, looking at a rope on the floor. Rachael had just tossed the rope for the third time, he realized. Instead of pulling the rope up for a fourth, successful toss, he climbed down the ladder and gathered the rope up. He untied the loop, and then coiled the rope and hung it on its hook. He, no she, moved the ladder over to the corner where she had found it, realizing that this body was not only much smaller, but also much weaker. It was young though, and without the aches and pains of a 64-year-old man.

She went to the door to the house, turned off the garage light, and went into the house. She nearly stumbled on a backpack, and picked it up and carried it off to Rachael’s, her, bedroom. She recognized the location from the vignette she had watched earlier. In the bedroom, adorned by only a few pictures torn from magazines as posters … boy bands and young movie stars mostly, she realized that this new body was covered in sweat. She stripped to her underwear and looked around. There was no mirror in the room. She went to the bathroom, and found one there. She wasn’t really pretty, but what 13-year-old girl thinks she is, she thought. Her face had some acne, and she still had a lot of baby fat. The hair was a problem. She had chopped it off in a depression episode a couple weeks earlier, she realized, accessing her memories. She went further back in time, and realized that last year she had bought a cheap dye kit and did a horrible job in dying what had been a light blonde hair color, like her mothers. Twice since then she had touched up the roots, which seemed to need it again. But there was no more of the dye solution left, and she didn’t have money to buy more. These are my memories, she realized. This is me. There is no more Ron. No more he or his. “I am Rachael,” she said aloud, hearing her new voice for the first time. It was a strong soprano, she thought.

She had been wearing a long-sleeved top, and soon noticed why. Her arms, from the elbows down, showed a tracing of both old and fairly recent scars. Cutting. He had heard that this was something troubled children were doing these days, but Ron really didn’t understand it. Memories flooded back of the many times she had cut herself, revelling in the pain as she watched blood flow from the non-lethal cuts she had made. She even realized that she had considered this as a suicide method … a lot. She finally had come up with the hanging method when she realized that bleeding to death would be messy, slow, and potentially difficult to accomplish.

Unfastening her bra was not easy, but Rachael managed to figure it out, and pulled it off to show small, budding breasts. The bra showed a size of 34A. Her waist was more than a bit chubby, and she had really oversized hips. She pulled off her briefs and got a good long look at her new sex organs. Ron had never really been able to look intently at these parts. He had been married for 22 years to his first love, but when Kate had died he never dated again. And Kate was very shy about that area. Rachael saw that she was blonde there. Of course. Acting out as a Goth didn’t require changes down there. She turned on the shower and got in.

Fifteen minutes later she got out. She felt clean and quite refreshed, having just experienced the best orgasm of her life. Being a girl might have some perks, she thought with a smile as she dried her body. It was also the first time in years that she had gone an hour without the constant pain and aches of age. She stood naked in her bedroom for a few minutes, then dressed again. The jeans and t-shirt she had on before were too sweaty to put back on.

Slipping on a new pair of briefs was easy, although it felt odd to feel her small breasts jiggling about as she bent over. The bra was a challenge … it seems she only had three, so she would have to wash the one she had just taken off. Once she finally got the new one clasped, she checked out her closet. To say she was disappointed was an understatement. There were only a dozen or so outfits in there. I thought girls had more clothes, she mused to herself. Not poor girls, she realized. Most of these outfits were from thrift shops. That was part of the reason she was teased at school. She didn’t wear cool new clothes from the hot boutiques like better off girls did.

She found a floral print midi skirt that went a few inches below her knees, and then found a pink top in the dresser, with long sleeves again. She took a pair of Mary-Jane shoes with a one inch heel, since she felt the running shoes she had on in the garage felt like they were a bit tainted by everything, and she wanted a completely different outfit.

She then went down and explored the rest of the house. Bobby’s room was actually a bit bigger than hers (although still tiny) but hers had the bigger closet. Her mom’s room was biggest, but her closet had few clothes in it: just a few waitress uniforms and one or two other outfits. Rachael peeked into her mom’s second-hand bureau and found the underwear drawer. There was only one spare bra in it and the tag, nearly faded out, said it was a 34-DD. Maybe there was hope for her in the bust department, she giggled.

She wandered through the rest of the house, until she came to the kitchen. It was a mess. Both breakfast and last night’s dinner dishes were still in the sink. She remembered her mother and her fighting last night: it had been Rachael’s turn to do the dishes but the fight had ended with her mom saying that the dishes would stay in the sink until she did them as Rachael stormed off to her room.

Looking around, it was soon clear that there was no dishwasher, so Rachael filled the sink with hot water and washed the dishes by hand, then dried them and put them into the cupboards. She cleaned all the counters, and looked through the fridge to see what might be happening for dinner. There was a package of chicken breasts with three small pieces of meat, as well as a few veggies. She had seen a bag of potatoes under the sink when she had looked for dish soap.

It was a bit after 2 p.m., and still too early to worry about dinner. Instead Rachael worked her way through the house, dusting and tidying as she went. She even found time to do two loads of laundry, one of Bobby’s things, which she found largely strewn around his room, and her own room, which had a laundry basket, which was not often used. Her Mom’s things were in her hamper. As well as the two laundry loads, she also did a sinkful of delicates: her and Mom’s bras and panties. She had memories of doing that regularly in the past. When all were done, she hung them to dry on the clothesline behind the house. There was no electric dryer in the house.

She had just come back in from hanging the last of the laundry, nearly filling the line, when she heard the front door open. “Who is it?” she asked in some alarm.

“It’s me, Rachael,” Bobby said.

“Why are you here now?”

“Mrs. Hubble didn’t answer her door. I stayed there for a long time, but no one came to the door. So I came here. Don’t get mad, it’s not my fault.”

It was 10 to four, and Bobby usually spent from 3:30 to 7 with a neighbour three doors down the street who did babysitting at a bargain rate for the Cartwrights. “Don’t worry, kiddo,” she said, reaching out to tousle his hair.

He flinched as her hand moved towards him. “Don’t hit me,” he said fearfully.

“I’m not going to hit you … anymore,” she said, adding the last word when she realized that she did hit the smaller boy pretty often when her Mom was not around. “What are you going to do till Mom gets home?”

“Bug you,” he said with a mischievous grin. “You said you wouldn’t hit me, right?”

“Well, maybe if you tempt me,” she said then added a smile to show him that she was joking. “Why don’t you watch some TV till Mom gets home? I’m going to make dinner for tonight.”

“You? Cooking? We’re all going to die,” he said, falling to the floor as if he had food poisoning. “But I’m hungry now. Mrs. Hubble always had a couple cookies for me.”

Rachael looked at her brother. He was even chubbier than she was, bordering on obese. This family needs to get into shape. Except for Mom. Memories appeared of her Mom as a thin shapely woman in her early 30s, still maintaining her look of youth in spite of having two kids. Mom had been 16 when she first got pregnant with Rachael.

“I have an idea. I don’t think you need cookies, and I don’t even know if we have any. But we do have some other things, and I’ll make a snack for you.”

Rachael went to the fridge and took out a carrot. It looked like there were still enough for dinner tonight, so she sliced one up into carrot sticks. She put a dozen and a half on a plate and took them in to her brother.

“What’s that?” he said with a look of distain on his face.

“These are soldiers,” she said. “This big guy is the boss … the captain, I guess. He will wonder where his soldiers disappear to, until in the end the giant Bobby monster gets him too.”

“Cool,” Bobby said, interested in playing with the snack as he ate it. “Thanks.”

Rachael went back into the kitchen and started preparing for dinner. She knew she had enough time, about three hours. She started off by texting her Mom.

Mom. I skipped school this afternoon. You may have already heard from the school. I will explain later. Bobby came home at 4. Dunno what happened to Mrs. H. No need to do dinner. I will have something ready when you get home.

She sent the text, knowing her mother wouldn’t answer immediately, since she was busy most of the time she was working. It was nearly a half hour later when the text came back.

School called. You are in trouble. Are you sure dinner is okay? There is some chicken in the fridge. Do you know how to cook it? I can get food from here if you don’t. Don’t kill your brother.

Rachael texted back immediately.

Don’t waste money on food. There is stuff here. Bobby is watching TV. I promise not to hurt him. Much :)

With that she decided on a recipe of breaded chicken, with mashed potatoes and carrots for vegetables. When she had the chicken in the oven, and the vegetables cooking, she decided to make a salad for starters, and began slicing the ingredients. In her former life the widowed Ron had been forced to cook his own meals most of the time, and he had been pretty good in a kitchen.

Bobby came into the kitchen. “Watcha doing?”

“Making a salad for dinner.”

“Ugggh. Sallid is yucky. The soldiers were tasty though.”

“Was that enough to hold you until dinner?”

“Yep. The general filled me up.” He watched her chopping celery and radishes for the salad.

“Can I help?”

“Sure. Are your hands clean?”

She inspected them, and found them filthy. How much of that dirt had wound up on the little army he had eaten, she wondered. She didn’t want that dirt on the dinner food that she and her Mom would eat, so she sent him to wash his hands … twice, and then still had to use the dishrag to get more of the dirt off the backs.

Bobby tore the lettuce for the salad and then dumped all the other ingredients into the big salad bowl as Rachael cut them. When he was done that, Rachael let him mash the potatoes once they were cooked: it was a job sufficiently destructive to amuse a 9-year-old boy. He was even willing to set the small table in the dining/living room.

Within a few minutes of everything being ready, Maria walked through the front door.

“Hey, Mom,” Bobby shouted excitedly. “We made dinner. I helped.”

“It smells wonderful,” she said. She turned to Rachael. “You know this doesn’t make up for skipping school, don’t you?”

“Can we leave that until after 8:30?” Rachael asked. That was Bobby’s bedtime. “I think you will be okay with everything. Let’s eat first.”

“Sure. It smells wonderful. Where did you learn to cook?”

“Well, there are a lot of shows on TV, and I sometimes paid attention in Home Ec.”

“Well, it smells divine. I can’t wait to taste it,” Maria said.

“We have salad,” Bobby said as Rachael scooped it into bowls. “I made it.”

“Yes he did, a lot of it. I just cut things up for him. Do you like it?” Rachael asked the boy.

“I do. It is yummy. Just like the soldiers.”

“Soldiers?” Maria asked.

“I cut up a carrot into sticks, and told him they were soldiers. He needed a snack when he got in.”

“Oh yes, Mrs. Hubble always gave him something. I don’t think we have cookies. A carrot was a good idea. Healthy, too.”

“Yeah, two thirds of this household is overweight, so I think healthy eating is something we should aim for. That’s why I made the salad.”

“I wonder what happened to Mrs. Hubble?” Maria said.

“I don’t know, maybe you should call?”

“Maybe she’s dead?” Bobby said.

“Bobby!” both Rachael and Maria said.

“I will look into it. I know Mrs. Hubble’s daughter, Jill … maybe she can explain.”

The three of them chatted through the meal, which both Bobby and Maria claimed was excellent. When they were done, Rachael asked Bobby to clear the table, and he started to object. She merely said “Please,” and the boy decided to comply.

Maria phoned Mrs. Hubble’s daughter while Rachael went out back to take in the wash, which had dried in the spring sunshine. She came back in to see her mother staring at her.

“Laundry? And I see you did a lot of housework, too. The place looks great.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you why later. I need to help out more around here. You work so hard for us.” Rachael put down the laundry on the couch, and the two of them started to fold things.

“Well, it’s going to get worse,” Maria said. “I just spoke to Jill, and her Mom had a stroke. She isn’t going to be available to look after Bobby for a couple months, at the best. Anyone else is going to want twice the money. I don’t know where we can find an extra $50 a week for babysitting.”

“Well, I could do it, Mom. Bobby and I got along well today. I could tend him on the days you work.”

“Yeah, we had fun today. Rachael wasn’t mean even once,” Bobby chirped up. Neither of the women even realized that he was paying attention to them, and not the TV.

“I don’t know if you are mature enough, Rachael,” Maria said. “This isn’t something you can just do when you feel like it.”

“I know that mother,” she replied. “But you need me for tomorrow, and probably the rest of the week. You won’t be able to find someone else sooner even if you tried. I want to do it a bit differently though. My school gets out 15 minutes before Bobby’s, and I’d like to walk there, and then both of us will walk home. We would pass that new DaSilva’s market, and get some healthy veggies and stuff for dinner, and the walk will be good for us. We both need more exercise.”

“Well, I would have to call the schools to get permission for you to not take the buses. I have to call your school anyway; so it won’t be an additional call. Both ways, or just home?”

“Just home for now. Maybe later when we can get our act together in the mornings we can walk to school as well. I don’t want to be all sweaty when we get to school.”

“Can I get some money for food at the market? Maybe $10?”

“I think $20 will be closer to what you need for meals for three. And I think you should treat this as a job. I’ll give you the money that I was giving Mrs. Hubble. It isn’t much, but it will let you get some new clothes from time to time.”

“Thrift store is good enough for me,” she said. “The girls at school tease me about it, but I don’t care.”

Maria got a pained look on her face. “Is that what has caused all your problems this year? I wish we had more money, but there isn’t much I can do.”

“Mom, you do more than enough for all of us, and I, and Bobby, are going to help more in the future. You don’t need to pay me anything.”

“Yes I do. A girl needs new things now and then, and you have been deprived of a lot of what your classmates have. I want you to have the $50 I gave Mrs. Hubble, and grocery money on top of that for anything you buy.”

“Well, let’s make a deal. You give me $20, and keep $30 for yourself. You need some nice things for yourself. Bobby and I have the hottest Mom in town, and we want you to show yourself off more.”

Maria blushed, and then hugged her daughter. “Okay, final offer is $20 for me and $30 for you. And maybe when we have some money saved we can have a mother-daughter shopping spree.”

“I would like that.”

The next hour passed quickly. Maria said it was her turn to do the dishes, and there were a lot with all the cooking pots and pans. But Rachael insisted on helping, and dried as her mother washed, letting them chat as they worked. Before long the pair of them had the kitchen spotless again.

“Bobby,” Maria said. “Bedtime.”

“Aw Mom, just a little longer,” he pleaded.

“No. Now. You need to have a bath and then straight to bed.”

“Awww.”

“Tell you what, Bobby,” Rachael said. “You do your bath quick now, and when you are ready for bed come and get me and I’ll read you a story.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yup, but only if you are in the bath in 2 minutes.” That caused the boy to tear upstairs to his room, and a minute later they heard the water running in the tub.

“So who are you and what have you done with my daughter?” Maria joked.

Rachael smiled. Her new Mom didn’t know how close her joke came to being true. “I need to explain why I left school at lunch, today.”

“I hope you had a good reason.”

“I don’t know how good it was, but it was important. I came home early to commit suicide.”

“What!” Maria nearly screeched.

“Yes. I had planned it all out. There is a ladder and a rope in the garage. I had everything set up. I was on the ladder and just had to loop the rope through the rafter and then I could have done it.”

“You were going to hang yourself?”

“I just wanted everything to end. It’s hard being a teenager these days.”

“Oh honey. I knew there was something wrong, but I just didn’t know what. I would have gotten help for you if I did.”

“That is part of it. I didn’t want to be a burden anymore. All the other girls have new, fancy clothes, and they tease me for being a Raggedy Ann. I know you would have gotten me counselling, but that costs a fortune, and we don’t have the money. I … I thought I knew the solution.”

“Sweetheart, that is never the solution.”

“I know that now. I started to see things clearly on the ladder. I stopped looking at what was wrong with the world, and started looking at what was wrong with me.”

Mom stopped talking and enfolded Rachael in a motherly hug. The former man was astounded at how right and perfect it felt, and soon both of them were crying. “Don’t ever do that again,” Maria sobbed.

“I won’t. I have set myself a new plan. But since I am being totally honest with you …” Rachael rolled up the sleeves on her shirt.

“My Baby,” Maria gasped as she saw the scars. “How … how long have you been doing this?”

“A couple years. Not so much till last summer, but a lot since school this fall. Last Friday was the last time. Not the last time so far, but the last time ever. I will never do this again either.”

“Good. But I wish I knew. I, I guess I knew you were having troubles as school, but not that it was this bad. We could have moved you to another school.”

“That would have cost so much,” Rachael said. “And really the problem wasn’t the school as much as me. I just wouldn’t allow myself to fit in. The other girls have new clothes, and newer cell phones, iPads and computers, and I am out of all that. They seemed to all be beautiful and I thought I was ugly. That’s why I hacked my hair off a couple weeks ago. But that just made me uglier and more of a misfit to them.”

“Baby, you are beautiful,” Maria said.

“I know that now. And looking at you I think I will even be more beautiful if I got some of your genes and not just something from my deadbeat Dad. I need to lose weight, and so does Bobby. You are fit because of your job, but kids today aren’t allowed to be fit, so we get fat. That’s why Bobby and I have to start walking home from school on the days when it is not raining hard.”

“Don’t overdo the dieting,” Maria said. “That can be dangerous too.”

“I’m not going to get anorexic on you,” Rachael giggled. “I’m going to be cook, and with a growing boy in the family we won’t be able to stint on food.”

“You don’t need to cook every night. I can bring stuff home from the restaurant. It is half price for me, and free if someone rejects a meal.”

“Well Mom, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but there is a reason that place is referred to as a greasy spoon. Maybe once a week you could bring home a pizza. Just as a treat for Bobby. He doesn’t know how hard high school will be for him in a couple years if he is still chubby. I have a plan for him though: making exercise a game, and eating healthy fun.”

“Honey, you don’t need to do all this. But I have to admit I was astonished when I saw him eating salad tonight … and liking it.”

“Well, he wanted to help, and I kinda let him think what he was doing was the important parts. So he almost had to like the salad he made himself.”

“And ‘soldiers’ for a snack. That is great, creative thinking. Anyway, I’m glad you decided to share all this with me. For the last couple years you have seemed more and more closed off to me. Can we keep it going?”

“I hope so. There is one thing I would like you to do.”

“What, baby?”

“This Sunday, can we go to church, as a family? I know you aren’t very religious, but I think I am. Now.”

“Rachael, if Jesus saved you from stepping off that ladder, then I love Jesus more than I can say. I’d love to go to church with you this Sunday, and every Sunday. Bobby might not be happy about it, but he will come too.”

“Speaking of which,” Rachael said, nodding towards the top of the stairs. Bobby was standing there, still a bit damp from his bath, wearing nothing but his little pair of briefs.

“You said there was a story?” He asked, as his mother giggled at the sight of her son.

“Sure thing, Tiger. I’ll be right up there. But if you aren’t under the covers when I get there, there won’t be a story.”

Rachael gave her mother a tight and satisfying hug, and then started up the stairs. She tried to access a memory on where the books were, and found out that there weren’t any kid’s books in the house. Neither Rachael nor her brother had been read to, and books were an expense that Maria couldn’t afford when food, rent and clothing were so difficult to afford.

Rachael found Bobby under the covers, as requested, and lay down on the bed on top of the covers. She tried to think of a story that she could do from memory. As she did, she felt her brother’s little arms encircle her, “I love you, Rachael,” he said in a squeaky voice. Rachael choked up for a minute. How could the old Rachael have missed the love for her that had been in this house, just waiting to be tapped.

“I love you too, squirt,” she finally was able to say after fighting tears for a moment. Bobby didn’t seem to notice her emotional state. “I wish we had some books here. They have pictures and stuff. But I will try to do my best.”

Rachael told him Red Riding Hood and the Three Bears. Then she started The Ugly Duckling, thinking it was especially apt to her situation, but found half way through that she didn’t remember how it ended. It turned out not to matter, because when she started to fumble on the plot, she turned and looked to find her little brother fast asleep, with a beatific smile on his face.

“I’m going to bed now too,” Rachael told her mother. “I will get Bobby ready for school in the morning. You need a chance to sleep in. Just remember to call our schools before you go to work so that we can walk home after classes. And maybe you can get me out of trouble for skipping out today.”

With that Rachael went upstairs and into her room. Knowing she was going to be busy in the morning, she decided to lay out her clothes for school tomorrow. Her meagre clothing collection didn’t leave much choice, and a lot of it tended towards the Goth look she had affected lately. She selected a black denim miniskirt. Tops were almost all black and long-sleeved. There was one yellow one with short sleeves, and she considered wearing it. It was important that she own up to her scars and not hide them, but in the end she decided everything didn’t have to happen on day one at school. Instead she decided to wear the pink top, since she had only worn it for a few hours today.

Normally she wore heavy boots with her gear, but she decided to put her somewhat soiled generic running shoes with her other things. She got a clean bra and panties from her intimate’s drawer, glad that she had done laundry this afternoon.

She lay down in bed, and then sensed something was wrong. After a moment it came to her. She got up, and kneeled down by the side of the bed and prayed silently.

Dear Lord

The first day is over, although I guess it really only is a part day. I hope I am doing all that you want me to. I really like this family. They have it rough. There isn’t much money here, but there seems to be a lot of love, and that really is what is important, isn’t it? I’m going to make sure that Rachael kicks in her share. Bobbie is so cute, please keep him safe. Mom is great. So pretty and young, and working so hard to keep her kids. Maybe you can find her a good guy. Tomorrow is school, and I’m not really looking forward to that, based on Rachael’s memories. She really did seem to be cut adrift with no friends. It will be hard to make new ones this far into the school year, but I will try. I hope that I am doing what you all wanted me to.

At that point, Rachael felt a definite sign, as a wave of warmth and love spread over her. She knew instantly that the angel John, or someone, had heard her prayer, and was responding silently.

“Amen,” she said. As she got up she turned and saw her mother standing at the door watching her. “G’night love,” Maria said.

“Nite, Mom,” Rachael replied, crawling back into bed.

Maria turned and went to bed herself, stopping for a moment after she changed into her nightgown, and then also kneeled and prayed. She had to give thanks for the day she had been given, with her daughter now talking to her like an adult instead of a spoiled child, and especially for her not having killed herself. Maria sobbed a bit, thinking of what might have been, and then gave a heartfelt thanks to a Lord she hadn’t spoken to in 20 years.

A Second Chance -- Chapter 3

I have five chapters of this written, so I am going to post daily until the backlog is gone. Hopefully this will allow readers to get into the story easier. The first two chapters have been a bit tumultuous. Until I posted, I had always had the story in one file, and didn't realize how very dark the first chapter was. You will all find the rest of the story more like the second chapter in tone. Cheers: Dawn.

By Dawn Natelle

WEDNESDAY, April 27, 2016

The next morning Rachael was up at 6:30 as a result of having gone to bed early. She showered and stood naked in front of the mirror, looking at her hair. She decided to act as if the tattered look was intentional. She had to cut off a few more locks, and that seemed to even things out … a lot. She told herself that it looked like a $200 hairstylist had cut it. Then she giggled and called herself a liar. But it did look better. Like if the apprentice to the $200 hairstylist had cut it. Just before getting fired. She giggled.

She was dressed and out of the bathroom by 7:15, and went in and woke Bobby. While he was lying in bed fighting consciousness, she went to his closet and chose an outfit for him. It was slightly less nerdy than the stuff he normally wore. When she was done, she announced that if he didn’t go to the bathroom NOW, she would go in there to start doing her makeup, making him wait. That got the boy up and moving.

Rachael headed down to the kitchen, chuckling because she already had done her makeup. She had thought it would take a long time, but found that her memories led her into doing it. At first her memories fought to present a very Goth look. She actually had to steel herself to keep the look more conservative. It did look better on her face, complementing her natural-blonde complexion instead of fighting it, like the Goth makeup had.

Rachael had peanut butter toast and a bowl of cereal for Bobby when he came down, and toast for herself. Rachael normally drank coffee, but now she decided to forego that, although she did brew a cup for her mom, who came down in her nightgown at 7:45 in a panic, expecting to have to get Bobby ready for the 8 a.m. bus. When she saw him putting his dishes into the sink, she let out a sigh of relief. Rachael handed her the cup of coffee.

“I thought I was late,” she said as she took a sip.

“I told you I was going to look after it,” Rachael said, turning to Bobby. “Get your books.”

“I thought yesterday was a dream or something,” Maria said.

“Me too,” Bobby chirped in. “I’m glad it is real. I like the new Rachael.”

“Remember not to take the bus home,” Rachael said. “You and I are going to walk together.”

“Okay,” the boy said. With that Rachael shooed him out the door and walked him down the corner to the bus stop. When she had gotten him on the bus, she headed back to the house. Her bus wouldn’t come for another few minutes.

She got back to find her mom relaxing on the chair, the coffee cup nestled in her hands. As Rachael closed the door behind her, she heard the toaster pop. “Stay, mom,” she ordered. “What do you want on your toast?”

“You don’t have to do that, honey,” Maria said, starting to get up.

“Honey it is,” Rachael called back, giggling.

“I meant … never mind, honey is fine.” Maria wrapped her arms around her daughter who was busily preparing the toast. “You know I love you,” she said.

“Especially when I make your toast and coffee,” Rachael said.

“No, all the time. But it is so nice to have someone do it for me. I wait on people all day long, and I just realized how nice it is for someone to wait on me for a change.”

“Well, I expect a big tip,” Rachael said.

“I think I have a few quarters,” Maria answered.

“Actually, I was thinking like $20.”

“What kind of restaurant is this? I almost never get a tip of over a dollar,” Maria joked.

“Well, I was going shopping after school,” the girl said. “There really isn’t another meal in the house for tonight … and I do NOT want you bringing dinner home. I could make do with $10 if that’s all you have, but with a bit more I can probably get a couple of days worth.”

“I was teasing,” Maria said. “You are looking after Bobby, so I don’t have to pay Mrs. Hubble this week. She bent over to get her purse. At the same instant the belt on her robe fell loose, so that when she stood, she inadvertently flashed her daughter.

Rachael stared at her partially naked mother. “God, you are beautiful,” she said with a whisper. Maria quickly covered herself and belted the robe again, but Rachael couldn’t get the image of her mother’s body out of her mind. Her body looked as good as any Ron had seen in Playboy magazines. Breasts just a bit less than too large, a thin waist and toned, shapely legs. Looking at her mom’s face, Rachael realized that it could pass for 20 instead of 30.

“Good thing Bobby didn’t see that,” Maria said nervously.

“Yeah, you could ruin him for life. At least, in a year or two, when he starts caring about that kind of thing. Tell me, Mom. When did you start to develop? Your breasts are just so … perfect. And mine are so … nothing.”

Maria chuckled. “Well don’t worry sweetie. I was pretty much a nothing before high school too. I blossomed in grade 9. AA to C in the one year, and D then DD the following two years. And then I had you, my high school diploma.”

Memories told her that Maria was ashamed of not having a high school diploma. “You could still get a diploma, Mom,” she said.

“Yeah, like that will ever happen.”

“You are the smartest woman I know,” Rachael retorted, unwilling to let her mother belittle herself again.

“Ha,” she said. “The teachers at your school must not be too bright then.”

“They have degrees and stuff. But not one of them would be able to look after two kids, including a psycho daughter, on the salary you get. I’m so proud to have you as a Mom,” Rachael said, wrapping her arms around her Mom.

“Thanks honey. And I’m proud of you too. And you are not a psycho.”

“Not anymore,” Rachael giggled. “But I was pretty nuts for the last few months. Hey, I’d love to keep this lovefest going, but my bus will be here in a minute. I’ve gotta run.” She picked up the bills Maria had set on the table. As she looked out the door, she saw her bus coming, and literally had to run.

As she did, she felt a slight jiggle on her chest. Maybe she was starting to grow. She tried to imagine what such a jiggle would feel like for her mother. Perhaps she would learn in the future.

She reached the bus just as it got to the stop. “Thanks for hurrying,” the driver said with a sincere smile. Rachael smiled back as she walked midway to the back. She realized that in the past Rachael would have sauntered slowly to the bus, making it wait for her. She sat at the last of the open seats (those with both sides free). She set her bag on the spare seat and looked through the money her mom had given her. There was $30. She put it into the otherwise empty wallet and then looked through her book bag. She was happy to find a class schedule for the term scrunched up at the bottom of her binder. She looked over the courses: History, Math, English, French, and Science or Phys.Ed. On alternate days the order reversed, with Science and Phys.Ed. as double periods on alternate days. As she studied the schedule, her memories told her who each teacher was, where each classroom was, and who the others in the class were. She was astonished to realize that she really didn’t have any friends at the school.

At the next stop, five girls and two guys got in and moved to the cool-kid seats at the back of the bus. One, a pretty red headed girl, snarled at Rachael as she went past. She was Carly Henderson, one of the more popular kids in the school, who seemed to delight at teasing Rachael.

At the last stop only one student got on. It was Michaela Murphy. Michaela was about 30 pounds overweight, and possibly the only student in Grade 8 that was less popular than Rachael. The girl had stringy black hair and the start of what could turn into severe acne in time. She looked down the bus, and saw no seat empty. Correction, no seat not in use. Almost everyone without someone next to them had set their bag on the empty seat, as Rachael had. The girl turned, heading to the front where she knew the driver would make someone clear a seat for her.

“Michaela,” Rachael called, as she moved her bag to her lap. She patted the seat next to her.

“Me?” Michaela mouthed. Rachael nodded as the driver yelled back for the girl to “Sit somewhere.”

Michaela moved to the seat, and practically fell into it as the bus lurched forward.

“Thanks, Rachael,” she said.

“No problem. You can’t have too many friends.”

Michaela hesitated, and then said: “I don’t have any friends.”

“You do now,” Rachael replied.

“Are you serious?” the girl asked with wide eyes.

“Sure, why not. I get tired eating alone at lunch. Join me then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

At this point the bus was at the school, and the two girls managed to get off before the horde at the back were able to push their way through. Sit at the back, but expect all the others to let them off first, Rachael thought. Not all of them were happy about it, and Carly snapped at them as she got off.

“Nerd one and nerd two.” The others in her group laughed. Rachael knew she had to say something or the nicknames would stick.

“I like that sweater,” she said. “Is it new?”

The compliment flummoxed Carly. “Yes it is. Although it isn’t something POOR people could expect to have. It cost $120 at Carithers in the Galleria Mall in London. You probably don’t know where that is,” she said snidely.

“Actually I do know it. I can’t afford to shop there though. It really looks good on you. It’s the perfect color for you. It makes your eyes pop like a TV star.”

“Uh, thanks,” Carly said, walking away somewhat confused. The girls in her posse immediately started gossiping about the new sweater, agreeing with Rachael’s opinion without admitting her input.

“Why did you do that?” Michaela asked as they walked into the school.

“Do what?”

“She insulted you, and you were nice to her.”

“Yeah, I guess I was. That is going to be my new thing. Being nice to people.”

“Like being nice to me. On the bus today?”

“Kinda. But you are easy to be nice to. Girls like that take a bit more work.”

“Well, you seem to be pretty good at it. I like your new look too.”

“My new look?”

“Your makeup. It looks much nicer than your Goth look. Even if you are still dressed partly in black,” she said with a smile.

“Thanks. Why are you smiling so much?” Michaela had the widest grin.

“It’s just nice to have someone to talk to. I’m not real popular at this school.”

“You are looking at it the wrong way,” Rachael said. “You see, if you look at it the right way, we are the popular ones, and all the others are the nerds. They just don’t know it.”

Michaela stopped and stared at her new friend, then started giggling uncontrollably. “You are so funny. I never thought of it that way. I like it.”

With that the two girls entered the school and went their different ways to their lockers, promising to meet up at lunch.

Oh God, Rachael thought as she looked into her locker. Everything was a mess, just thrown in. As a senior in the middle school, she didn’t have to share a locker this year, but she certainly hadn’t taken advantage of the privilege. Books, dirty gym suits and scads of miscellaneous papers and junk were scattered at the bottom of the locker. She picked up the gym suit, a memory telling her that she had skipped the class the past few weeks. The odor of the kit backed that memory up. She next had gym on Thursday, tomorrow. If she was to go, and she intended to, the gym gear would have to be washed tonight. She put it in her bag, hoping its unique odor would not spread to the other things in her bag.

She spent a couple minutes tidying up, collecting quite a pile of papers for the trash, and an astonishing large number of slips from the office that were supposed to have been signed by her mother and returned to the office. Then first bell rang, and she realized that she was going to have to rush to get to English before second bell.

She almost made it. Mrs Cathcart saw her running towards the door, but started to close it. “I’m coming,” she panted, and the elderly teacher stopped with it just barely ajar.

“Really, Rachael,” she said. “I’m surprised that you have decided to join us today. You haven’t for the past few days, have you? Of course, I’m quite certain that you have mastered the parts of speech during your independent study.”

“I’m sorry I have missed, Mrs. Cathcart,” Rachael said as she took an empty seat at the front of the room. “I’ve had a rough time and I really appreciate all you have done to make things easier on me.” That confused the teacher, who really had done nothing except complain to the office about her absences. “I do know a bit about the parts of speech, though.”

“Well then, please enlighten the class,” the teacher smugly said. The class tittered, feeling this was going to be amusing. “Please start with the difference between nouns and verbs and proceed from there.”

Rachael drew on her Ron memories, and started reciting various parts of speech, giving detailed definitions of noun, verb, adjective, adverb, article, conjunction, interjection and was in the middle of a rather detailed explanation of gerunds when the teacher stopped her. The students in class were staring at her open mouthed.

“I don’t know how you did that, but it was impressive,” the teacher said. “We don’t get into gerunds in this course … if fact, I don’t think they are usually taught until university. Please be seated.”

Rachael walked to her seat, and as she did one of the boys near the back started a slow clap. After a few seconds, others in the class picked up on it and soon more than half the class was making the slow clap, to the clear annoyance of Mrs. Cathcart, who rapped her ruler on her desk several times to get the class to stop.

“I don’t know how you do it, Miss Cartright,” she said, “even when you do something right you manage to disrupt my class.” She said it with a smile, though, so Rachael was pretty sure she was not in trouble.

“Now class,” she continued, “your major essay for this term is due tomorrow. It needs to be six pages long, and that is normal-sized handwriting, or better yet, on a computer. Anything about your life or something you know well. Hands up if you are done, or nearly done.”

Less than 10 hands went up. Rachael realized that she couldn’t raise hers … the other Rachael hadn’t even started the paper. “The rest of you had better get working on it tonight. Each student will randomly be asked to read their paper. Don’t count on being chosen to read later in the week. The way she was looking straight at Rachael made the girl fairly certain that the “random” order would include her name on the first day. She needed to be ready with that paper.

The other two classes in the morning went well. Math came up next, and Ron had been a wiz in math until Trig in High School. He had no problems with the long division being covered in Grade 8. And History followed, and that seemed even easier, since Ron had been a history buff. Using Ron-memories, these classes were little more than extended reviews that Rachael used to make sure she wasn’t showing off too much knowledge, like she had in English.

Lunch followed. Rachael made her was to the cafeteria quickly, since her locker was only a few yards from the door. She had a packed lunch and a refillable water bottle that she took into the large room. Looking around, her memories told her where not to sit. Over there was where the jocks and cheerleader sat. The nerd table. The kiddie tables for the younger grades. The Goth table, where she used to sit along with all the other sullen outsiders. She chose a seat at the end of the nerd table. The boys who sat there might not like it, but they weren’t likely to say anything. She felt that she needed to break away from the whole Goth thing. None of those kids had really been her friend … they more or less had just tolerated her moody behaviour.

Michaela came over, carrying a tray. “Are we eating here? Did you still want to eat with me? I can go somewhere else.”

“Sit down,” Rachael said with a smile. “You have to get your self confidence up, girl. This is the headquarters for the new cool kids of Ainsborough Middle School.”

Michaela looked confused, then remembered the conversation they had walking into the school. “Oh yeah, the whole new cool kids thing.”

“Yeah, but some of the cool kids have food that is clearly uncool.” Rachael looked at Michaela’s tray. “Tonight we are being served mystery meat, floating on a greasy layer of mystery sauce. Similar to gravy, in some strange and eerie ways. Large scoops of white stuff, trying and failing to meet the grade as mashed potatoes. Mushy orange cubes. Diced carrots, or merely a science experiment gone bad? To be swilled down by 6 ounces of cow juices, trapped in an impenetrable cardboard container. Yum for you.”

“Yuck,” the chubby girl said laughing aloud at the colourful description. “What do you ha …” She looked up at five or six nerd boys standing near the table, looking confused at actual girls sitting at the table they normally sat at.

“Sit down boys,” Rachael said cheerfully. “I can promise that Michaela and I have both been tested for girl cooties, and neither of us are carriers. You can sit at the end of the table and talk about Star Wars vs. Star Trek, or you can sit here with us and carry on an intelligent conversation with us about important world events, like Care Bears and Barbie’s Dream House.”

Most of the boys headed towards the end of the bench, but a short, tanned guy with more than a little acne put his tray down next to Rachael’s. The other boys drifted back, although none of them took the first seat next to Michaela.

“You’re funny,” the brave boy said to Rachael.

“Why thank you, Sir Robert. This fair damsel is honoured by your gallantry.”

“You know my name?” he stammered.

“Of course I do. We’ve been going to school for the past seven years in this stupid town. You have been in my class at least half the time. Of course I know your name. Robert Jackson. And your fellow knights are Neal, George, Jerome and Bill. I don’t know the other lad though.”

“Tony DaSilva. He is new to the school this year.”

“Please to meet you Sir Antonio,” Rachael said. “I am Rachael Cartwright, queen of this colony, and this fair maiden is the lovely Michaela Stoner, my lady in waiting, who I was just showing what real food looks like.”

Rachael opened the jam sandwich she made the night before, along with carrot and celery sticks. “Notice that all ingredients are actually food, although the jam itself could be somewhat suspect.”

Most of the others had cafeteria food. “I used to wish that I could afford to buy food here,” Rachael noted. “But when I see it up close it becomes apparent that there are benefits to being poor.”

The group chatted through the meal, with the girls explaining Rachael’s theory that they were really the new popular group at the school, and that the A-list were actually the nerds. As they laughed and giggled about this, one of the boys noted someone coming towards them from the A-list table. It was Sean Hunt, the boy who had started the slow clap in English.

“Do you think he heard us,” one of the boys said nervously.

“Which of yon knights will defend me from this interloper,” Rachael intoned. The boys pretty much all looked away.

“Hey, Rachael,” Sean said.

“Yes?” Robert stood up. Sean glanced at him, and then focussed back on Rachael.

“That was pretty cool what you did in English today. You really set old Cathcart back on her ass. How did you do it?”

“Do what? You mean explaining parts of speech? It is just something I know.”

“Yeah, but how? We haven’t ever taken some of that stuff.”

“I read. You learn stuff that way.”

“You mean like books?”

“Yeah, exactly like books.”

“I didn’t think people read books anymore. What with the Internet and all.”

“I don’t have Internet at home,” Rachael explained. “So I read books.”

“Wow. So then you won’t know that you are a YouTube star.”

“No. Wait … What?”

“Lucy Davners filmed your little show on her cell. She thought … heck, we all thought you were going to get all messed up when Cathcart called on you. But your schtick was amazing, and Lucy posted it on the net during Math class. I think there are already 5000 hits.”

“Oh. Did it make Mrs. Cathcart look bad?”

“Oh, totally. Look, I just wanted to tell you it was cool, what you did.”

Rachael gulped as Sean walked back to his group at the cool table. This might be a problem.

She stood up. “I must leave, fair knights. Note how the new nerds have started coming to us in supplication. And you Sir Robert … I noticed how of all my knights, it was you who stood to defend me.”

Robert had only sat down again when Sean had left. Rachael bent over and kissed him on the top of the head, and headed out of the cafeteria. A few steps later she heard Michaela call.

“Wait up.”

“Are you finished?” Rachael asked.

“Enough. After you made it sound so appetizing. I think I will bring a sandwich tomorrow too. Where are you going?”

“To the library. I need to see that video.”

“Can I come? It was cool at lunch. I didn’t think there would be guys … even if none of them would sit next to me.”

“Well they were terrified of you.”

“I was terrified of them,” she said. “But Robert sat next to you.”

“Yeah, Robert is cool.”

“He is almost in shock right now, after you kissed him.”

“I didn’t kiss him,” Rachael said. “Just a peck on the top of the head. It wasn’t even on skin, let alone his lips.”

“Doesn’t matter, he looked like he went into shock. And the other guys were all staring. That’s kinda why I wanted to come with you. I dunno if I could stay with just guys.”

“They won’t bite you,” Rachael said. “So Robert is mine. Which one do you want?”

“Me? A boy? Oh, oh, no. I couldn’t. I mean … No, no.” Michaela stammered. “Well, Tony was cute. But he’d never …”

“Oh, he will. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one day, in one world, as God is my witness, you will date Tony DaSilva.”

Michaela was silent for the last few steps into the library, where they quickly found a free computer with Internet. They quickly went to YouTube and started to search for the video. It took a few minutes to find it … apparently Lucy has spelled her clever title of Gerund Stuff as Jerund Stuff.

“Oh my God, look,” Michaela said as they played the presentation. “It’s at 250,000 hits. It’s going viral.”

On viewing the recording Rachael didn’t think it actually made the teacher look bad. She was more concerned about her own appearance. The lighting was horrible and the camera jumpy, but she actually thought she looked okay. The spiky black hair actually looked better, framing her face nicely, although she could see her blonde roots coming through. They didn’t look bad in a mirror, but on the video, when she bent her head down, they really showed. But the subdued makeup made her look much prettier than she was, and far better than a Goth look would have.

“We have to tell Mrs. Cathcart about this,” Rachael said as the video ended. “It is only fair. It is her class.”

The girls headed off to the staff room, where they tapped on the door to get Mrs. Cathcart to come out. Rachael quickly explained that the video was up, that it was not her idea, and that Lucy was the one to contact to take it down. The teacher clearly hadn’t heard of the video yet, and thanked Rachael for notifying her.

By the time that was over, it was time to rush off to the first afternoon class, a double period of Science. On alternate days this was a double period of Phys. Ed. Again, class was boring more than exciting as Grade 8 science matters were discussed. The fact that it was nearly 2 hours instead of 1 just made it worse.

French class ended the day. That was interesting, since Ron had been completely bilingual, having spent five years working as a reporter on a Quebec weekly newspaper in the late 1970s before going back to university to take his Veterinary degree. Rachael, on the other hand, had spent no time at all working on her French, and had tended to drift aimlessly through class. Today, however, she participated fully, much to the amazement of Mme. Lafleur. At the end of class Rachael had a long conversation with the teacher, explaining her desire to turn her schoolwork around. Of course, she spoke entirely in French throughout, and started to realize that her French was probably better than the teacher’s.

She left the school a few minutes later, and found Michaela waiting for her at her locker.

“Oh, Michaela. Sorry. I didn’t tell you. I’m walking home. I have to pick up my brother at Wislow Public.”

“That’s okay,” Michaela said, although her face was painted in disappointment. “Will you ride in tomorrow?”

“I’ll save you a seat,” Rachael promised as the other girl hurried off for the bus.

The two schools were on the same block of land, but the school ending times were different, to prevent congestion by busses and cars picking up students, as well as minimizing bullying. Thus Rachael had a short wait on the bench outside Wislow. She used the time to start writing an outline for her English assignment, since she had finished the homework in most of the other classes during class time, or to prevent boredom in the following class.

When the bell rang, it was only a minute or two before a stream of students exited the school. Bobby was in the middle of the pack, and his face lit up when he saw his sister waiting.

“How come we are walking, Rachael?” he asked as they started down the road.

“We both need the exercise, and we have to pick up food for dinner.”

“Cookies? I’m hungry.”

“You are always hungry. You are like a bottomless pit.”

“Yeah, I am. What’s a bottomless pit?”

“Hmm. It is a saying people have. I think it comes from how, when there is a very deep hole, you drop a stone into it and it takes a long time till you hear a splash or clunk when the stone hits the bottom or water.”

“I’m not a bottomless pit.”

“No, but your stomach is like one. We can never fill it up.”

“But I get filled up a lot. I just get hungry again later.”

Rachael had to laugh. “You are right. It doesn’t fit you. You are more like a conveyor belt. We just have to keep putting food on it for you to keep eating.”

“Cool,” Bobby said, and for the next block he made noises imitating a conveyor belt. This took them to a secondary commercial district with a half dozen shops and businesses, half of them empty. Ron-memories told him that a developer had bought up the houses along here 6 years ago and built a strip plaza with a half dozen storefronts with apartments over them. He had gone bankrupt just after finishing the building, owing the city a large amount for fees and back taxes. It had taken several years, but the city finally got ownership of the property. They had planned on putting a library branch into the area, and used one of the store units for it, renovating the apartment above into offices and a meeting room. The other units were put up for rent, and after a year of sitting empty a business incubator model was started where low rents would allow new businesses to get established. This seemed to be effective, as two more stores had been rented since the program started in January, with others to come.

The first unit Rachael took them into was a fruit and vegetable market that offered a limited arrangement of groceries. Rachael had been expecting a full grocery store here, but was happy to be able to stock up on salad fixings that would be much fresher than a small grocery. She showed Bobby how to pick out good vegetables, and then let him make the choices. In a half hour they had filled several sacks and Rachael let Bobby pick out an apple as a snack. As well as fruits and vegetables, there were spices, pasta, deli meats and other grocery items that Rachael needed. She decided she could get almost everything here.

At the counter the Italian woman who priced her purchases wore a tag reading Anna DaSilva.

“Pardon?” Rachael asked. “Is your son Tony DaSilva?”

“Si, si,” the woman said in heavily accented English. “Ma Bambino.”

“He is in my class at school,” Rachael said. “He is very nice.”

The woman had poor English, except with numbers, and totalled the bill to $27.13, nearly all Rachael had. But then she only took $25, saying there was a discount for “familia”. Rachael hoped that the woman didn’t think she was dating Tony. She realized she hadn’t even heard the boy speak today.

“What’s this place?” Bobby asked as they went into the library branch.

“This is a library. Not the big one. That is downtown. But this one is close to home, and we can get books here. Don’t start your apple yet. You don’t want to get the books dirty.”

“Do you have enough money to buy a book?” Bobby asked.

“I don’t. The books here are free. We can borrow them for a week or two, then bring them back and get new ones.”

“Wow. What are we going to get?”

“I’m going to get one called Harry Potter. You can pick out one yourself.”

Rachael took them in, and showed Bobby the kids section while she went to get a library card. With her school card, she was able to get an account set up, and found the first volume of Harry Potter. She then gathered up her brother, who had five children’s picture books spread out around him, trying to decide.

Rachael watched him trying to choose the best book and finally said: “The lady says we can take out six books at a time. I have one, so you can take all five of those.”

Bobby’s eyes got wide. “All of them? For free?”

“They are free if we take care of them, and bring them back just as they are. If we damage them, then we have to pay for them, and you know Mama can’t afford the cost. Can you take care of them?”

“Yes. Oh, yes. I will be so careful. Please can we take them. All of them?” It was the first time in the young boy’s life when he was able to sate all his desires without having to make a choice. He looked like he was in heaven.

With the books packed into the two backpacks, they then went into the bakery two doors down. This nearly drove Bobby wild, since it was full of cookies and pastries, as well as the bread that Rachael wanted. She reached for a loaf of multigrain bread, but a hand came out from behind the rack, and a man dressed all in white took the one she had and put another into her hands. She could feel the softness of the second loaf, and realized that it was fresher. She wound up with a dollar change from the $30 her mother had given her. She used that to get two cookies while Bobby was drooling over pastries at another counter. The woman clerk put the cookies into the bread bag just before Bobby came back.

“Rachael, can I get a cookie?” he begged, using his biggest puppy dog eyes.

“Sorry Tiger, I just spent my last dollar,” Rachael said, winking at the elderly bakery clerk so she wouldn’t say anything. “Besides, you have an apple. You don’t need a cookie.”

“Awww,” the boy said sadly. It wasn’t the first time he had been told they couldn’t afford something he wanted, so he stoically followed Rachael out of the store.

“Are we done yet? I’m getting tired.” Bobby complained.

“I hope not. It’s a long walk to the house.”

“We should have taken the bus.”

“Don’t complain. The bus doesn’t stop for stores. Is that a good apple.”

“The best apple ever,” Bobby said enthusiastically. “Juicy and sweet and it is filling up the bottomless pit.

“Home now?” Bobby asked.

“Home now,” his sister replied.

It was about a 12-block walk, and about three blocks in Bobby was starting to complain about being tired. Rachael encouraged the boy, who was not used to exercise. About six blocks in Rachael wound up carrying all the bags, and near the middle of the next block Bobby finally flung his apple core in frustration and plopped down on the grass next to the sidewalk.

“Bobby, what did you do?” Rachael rebuked her brother.

“I finished it. I’m soooo tired,” he whined.

“I don’t care, you don’t throw your garbage on someone’s lawn. Go get it. We’ll put it into one of the sacks.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I don’t care. Do you want me to leave you here? Do you know the way home from here? Won’t you be scared all alone?”

The boy looked around, and realized that he didn’t know the street, or his way home. “Oh all right,” he said, slowly getting to his feet. “Look, there is an old man on the porch. Let’s just go.”

“No. You have to get that apple core, and apologise to the man. Don’t worry. I’ll come with you.”

They approached the house, and Bobby found his apple core in the middle of the lawn which was somewhat ragged looking, at least two weeks late for being mowed. “Sorry for throwing it,” he said to the man. “I was tired and didn’t think.”

“Zat is okay,” the man said. To Rachael he seemed old, and even her Ron-eyes realized that he was far more than the 65 Ron had been. Perhaps in his 80s? “If you are tired, perhaps you could rest here. Your sister, she has quite a load.”

“It’s just groceries,” Rachael said, ”but I could use a bit of a rest, and Bobby is tired. I am Rachael Cartwright. I live with my mom, Maria, and Bobby, about three blocks down the street. We picked up groceries after school.”

“Bon, bon,” the man said. “Tell le garcon petit not to worry. I remember stealing apples from the orchard out here before the war, when I was his age. My name est Pierre Verdun, and I am pleased to meet you, Rachael and Bobby.”

“You were in the war?” Bobby asked. War was one of his current interests.

“Oui, oui, ” Mr. Verdun said. “Just a sergeant in the Vingt Deux. I was one of the lucky ones at Dieppe, and then came back to France a few days after D-Day.”

“Did you kill anybody,” Bobby asked.

“Bobby. That isn’t a nice thing to ask,” Rachael said in a shocked voice.

“It is all right,” Mr. Verdun said. “It used to bother me. A lot. But now, I think it is important that the young ones like you two should learn about the war. There aren’t many of us left. But oui, mon jeune fils I have killed Nazis. I am not proud of it, but it was a job that had to be done.”

They chatted for another 10 minutes, and then Rachael had to beg off to get home and start dinner.

“You are tres welcome to visit again,” the man said hopefully. “It makes me feel young to talk to young people again. I don’t see many. If you find yourself walking along again, feel free to stop and rest here, whether I am here or not.”

“Thank you sir,” Rachael said and stepped up on the porch to kiss the man on the cheeks, French style. “And thank you for all you did in the war to make Canada safe for us.”

“Merci, my dear. That makes it worthwhile, to know that the young ones still care. I hope to see you again.”

“I think you will,” she said as she picked up her bags. Bobby took his again, wanting to look brave in front of the old soldier. He even carried it the rest of the way home. His vivid imagination turned the rest of the walk into an army march with full pack, similar to the ones Mr. Verdun had mentioned in their chat. He was clearly enamoured by the old gentleman. He also didn’t complain once on the rest of the way home.

“I’m tired,” he finally admitted when he got into the house, and sprawled on the sofa. Rachael got his library books out. You read these and I will make dinner. I think we just have enough time before Mama gets home. First I have to get another load in the laundry.”

“I have to make the salad,” Bobby insisted. “I bought the stuff for it.”

“Okay, let me chop everything up while you read, and I’ll call you to put it together. We are having spaghetti tonight. I won’t put the pasta in until Mom gets here so it doesn’t over cook. I wish I had time to make a sauce, but I think we will have to make due with canned stuff today. Maybe on the weekend we will have home-cooked sauce.”

“Spaghetti and meatballs,” Bobby cheered.

“No meatballs. We had meat last night. But we do have cheese for it, and this nice bread. I think it will make a good dinner for us. Did you like the sandwich I made for your lunch today?”

“It was yummy,” Bobby said. “Best jam sandwich ever.”

“Go read, you silly thing,” Rachael said, tousling his hair. “Tomorrow’s will be better, because we have better bread.”

It didn’t take long for Rachael to make the salad (Bobby tossed the ingredients, so he could claim to have ‘made it’), and start heating the canned sauce. She had a pot of water boiling, and dumped in a half package of pasta when she heard her mother coming up the steps. She opened the door and gave her weary-looking mother a hug.

“Oh good,” Maria said. “I was worried that you two would be fighting by now. And is Bobby reading? I really didn’t think this walking thing would work out. And dinner is ready too?”

“Yeah Mommy, it was fun. We went to the store and I got an apple. Then we went to the library, where we got free books, but I have to look after them nice so we can get some more next time. And the bakery, that had cookies and great smelling stuff, but we didn’t have enough money except for bread. And the walk home was too long, but we stopped and met a War Hero, and he was super nice and told me stories about the war. Then we had a long walk home, and I didn’t complain a bit so I can tell the War Hero I was brave like him. He is a War Hero, isn’t he, Rachael.”

Maria and Rachael listed to the boy’s speech with amazement. Bobby usually wasn’t that talkative.

“Yes Bobby,” Rachael said. “He was a real war hero. All those brave men were heroes, and we owe them all so much. I think today we should say a prayer for all of them.”

“What’s a prayer,” Bobby said.

“It’s the way we thank God for all He has done for us. And after meeting Mr. Verdun today, I feel like there is a lot we need to say to Him.”

With that the three of them sat down around the tiny table and held hands as Rachael said:

“Thank you Lord, for the meal we are about to have. For our health when so many others are ill. For having food, and this fine house and good schools to go to and a good job for Mother. And thank you for having men like Mr. Verdun who did so much for us, and for the many, many men who didn’t come home, and for the men who came home broken, some in mind, some in body. May their souls all live with you in Heaven. Amen.”

At the end of the prayer both Maria and Rachael were in tears, and Bobby was confused. While Rachael, after wiping away her tears, served the salad, the boy asked his mother: “Why do we pray if it makes you cry.”

“We cried because … well, because what we said was so important.” Maria said. “I haven’t been very religious lately, but right now I am so thankful for what I have. Such a great daughter and a fine son. Amen.”

“I need to pray too,” Bobby decided. “Thank you Jesus, for giving me the bestest, prettiest Mom in the whole World, and the best sister any boy ever got. Aye-man.”

“Oh look, my prayer worked too. Everybody is crying again.”

It was a weepy salad and when it was finished (many compliments from Maria to Bobby on his preparation, and he chattily explaining to his mother how one selected vegetables) the pasta was ready.

Maria and Rachael had one helping of pasta each, while Bobby put away three. And he had a slice of the multigrain bread, pronouncing it “The Best Bread Ever”. Rachael explained about the nice baker who had given her the bread.

“He was pretty cute,” she told her mother.

“Rachael,” Maria sounded shocked. “You are only 13.”

“Not for me, Momma. He is your age. I think you should try to meet him.”

“ME!? I am a mother. I don’t go around dating young men.”

“He is probably your age,” Rachael said. “He looked about 35. You are 30, right?”

“Yes, but I don’t need your help in finding dates.”

“I dunno. How many have you had finding them yourself,” the teen retorted.

“Touche,” Maria said. “But I’ll start dating when I feel ready. It’s just with my hours … and I am so tired when I get home. Although with you looking after Bobby, and making meals, and doing the shopping: it takes a lot off my shoulders.”

“We are a family. A team. We need to work together. We can do anything if we work together.”

Bobby cleared the table without being asked, and Maria and Rachael washed and dried the dishes. After they were finished, they found Bobby reading his library books again, and Rachael sat down next to him in the big chair.

Rachael had Bobby read to her, and learned to her astonishment that the boy could barely read. He tended to use his wild imagination to make up a story about the pictures in the book, without looking at the words. Rachael convinced him to slow down, and soon had the boy sounding out the words. They spent over an hour nestled together in the big old chair, and by the end of the hour, Bobby was already reading markedly better.

“Off to bed you,” Rachael finally said. “If you are in bed in three minutes, I will read you a story.”

“This one,” Bobby said, holding up his favourite of all his books.

“Nope. My book,” Rachael said, pulling out the Harry Potter.

“There are no pictures in that one,” Bobby complained.

“There will be a lot of pictures. They come from up here,” Rachael said, touching her brother’s head. “Wait and see.”

“Ok,” he said skeptically, and then dashed off to his room.

Rachael read Harry Potter to Bobby for a half hour, until the boy was fighting to keep his eyes open. “That’s enough for now, Tiger,” she said softly.

“But I want more … you were right, there are so many pictures in my head.”

“That is how you know when a book is good. When there are pictures in your head,” Rachael said. “We will read more tomorrow.”

“I love you Rachael,” were the last words the boy said as he fell asleep.

“I love you too, Bobby,” she whispered as she left the room, even though it was more to herself than him. He was sound asleep.

When she got downstairs, Rachael saw that Maria was also asleep on the couch. She thought about just getting a blanket to cover her, but she knew that the old couch was lumpy and not fit for sleeping on. Instead she nudged her mom.

“Wha … oh Rachael,” Maria said sleepily. “I just had the nicest dream. A rich man … I think it was your baker … swept us all away to live in a big castle down by the lake.”

Rachael laughed. “My baker probably works as hard as you do. And I bet that we are happier than the rich people. I know some of the girls at school have more money than brains, and I bet it doesn’t make them happy like simple things do. Bobby is thrilled to get an apple to eat, and he didn’t make a scene or anything when I told him we couldn’t afford cookies or pastries at that bakery. And oh, Mom, the smells in that place were incredible.”

“I know you and Bobby want to lose weight,” Maria said. “But he needs a treat now and then.”

“I know. I used our last dollar to get two cookies. One for lunch tomorrow, and one for Friday. A surprise. And that reminds me, I have to make his lunch. And mine.”

“I can do that,” Maria said.

“I want to,” Rachael said.

“Okay, but I will help,” Maria insisted. “What do you want me to do?”

“Slice up about 40 carrot sticks, and 20 celery sticks. I’ll make his sandwich. Jam is all he will eat.”

“Rachael, where did all this food come from? I only gave you $30.”

“And I spent it all. There is more in the cupboard. We will have Chicken Fingers tomorrow, and spaghetti again on Saturday. Tonight’s dinner only cost $8 for the three of us. Saturday will be a bit more, because I bought hamburger for meatballs.”

“Three meals for three people for $30? You are hired as the household shopper.”

“It looks like we will need another loaf of bread tomorrow. There will only be enough of this for toast with breakfast tomorrow. Can I get $5. That will be enough for an apple for Bobby, and more bread. It is easier for him to resist the goodies in the bakery if he has an apple in his hand.”

When Maria finished cutting, she saw that her daughter had a cookie sheet on the burner, and had opened a bag of chocolate chips and had placed them on the pan. She took each carrot and celery stick and stuck the melted side of the chip onto one end.”

“What are you doing, honey?”

“I am making him soldiers. With chocolate chip helmets. After meeting Mr. Verdun, he is war crazy. He will love these.”

“He will. You are so imaginative.”

“He told me on the way home that tomorrow is pizza day at school. I hope this will ease his disappointment for not being able to buy some.”

“Don’t be silly. I can afford $5 to buy my son pizza,” Maria said. She opened her pocketbook from her purse and then her face fell. “Oh, maybe I can’t. This is my last $5. I get paid tomorrow, but this will have to last us. I guess we really need to get bread, don’t we.”

“Don’t cry, mom,” Rachael said, putting her arms around her mom. “You do so much for us. Bobby didn’t even ask for money for the pizza. He knows we can’t afford it.”

“But I feel like such a loser. I can’t even buy my kids food.”

“You do buy us food. We are never hungry. We are never cold. And we know that we are never, ever not loved.”

“I don’t know,” Maria said tentatively. “Maybe I should take that other job.”

“What job is that?”

“Well, about nine months ago Sandra Wilson left the café and took a job at the strip club at the edge of town. She says that she makes $15 an hour, and averages $300 a night in tips.”

“Wasn’t Sandra that skinny red head?”

“Yes, but she isn’t skinny anymore. She used the tips from the first few months to get boob implants. Her tips went from $100 a night to $300.”

Rachael had a giggle fit, and Maria looked at her quizzically. “What?”

“I was just thinking of you after a boob job. You’d be humongous. “

“Well I wouldn’t need that,” Maria said. “But with that kind of money we could afford … well, stuff. For you and Bobby.”

“How would you get to work? There is no bus out there, is there?”

“No. I’d have to get a car. But I wouldn’t be able to afford one. I guess it would be taxis at first until I could afford a down payment. And it will be nights only, so I would only see you kids a couple days a week.”

“And do you want to work in a place where women take off their clothes for men?” Rachael asked.

“Not really, but for you kids …”

“Well stop right now,” Rachael ordered. “Do you think Bobby and I want to be known as the kids with the mom at the strip bar. The fact you aren’t a dancer won’t matter to most people. You will be thought of the same way. And if I am as lucky enough to inherit your body, then all the boys in high school will be teasing me about when I will become a stripper. Is that the career path you want to put me on?”

“Oh God no,” Maria said. “I never thought of it that way. It is just that I’m getting tired of having no money.”

“We have enough. Don’t sell our self-respect for more money.”

“You are such a sweet girl, Rachael,” Maria sobbed. “What would I ever do without you?” The pair hugged again, and Rachael went up to her room to finish off her English paper before going to bed. Luckily, as a former newspaper writer she was able to write quickly, noting that her handwriting was smaller and neater than Ron’s had ever been.

An hour later she felt she had an acceptable paper, hoping it was what the teacher was looking for, and she knelt down to pray again.

Dear Lord

I think it was a good day. I’m pretty sure I made a friend, and it seems that Michaela needed one. I tried to be nice to the ones who don’t like me. I surprised them a bit. It is easy when you don’t have the teen angst that all the rest of the kids have. I guess Rachael was shy before, most teens are. But with all the years behind me, I know that isn’t important. Let’s hope tomorrow makes a better day. Let me know somehow if I am doing wrong, or not doing enough. I’m trying, but I can try harder if I need to.

Amen

Rachael again felt the warmth flowing over her that told her that her message had been received.

A Second Chance -- Chapter 4

By Dawn Natelle

THURSDAY, April 28, 2016

The morning routine was much the same, with Rachael getting up early enough to shower and do her makeup before yanking Bobby out of bed. It was harder for her to get up because she had stayed up writing her English paper. Bobby didn’t want to get up, and she realized that they might have read Harry Potter for too long the night before. She finally got him out of bed and downstairs with a breakfast in front of him before her mom made it downstairs.

“Thanks,” Maria said as she gratefully accepted the cup of coffee that was handed her. “You really are looking after your brother for me. I didn’t think it would last.”

“It will, Mom. I promise you.”

“I believe you, for some reason. You seem to have grown up so much in only a few days. When I talk to you, it is like I am talking to an adult. When you laid into me about that job last night, I felt like you were my Mom, giving me hell for not thinking something through. It was like our roles were reversed.”

“Well, I’m glad they aren’t. I like being the kid. But it will be a kid that helps out. Come on Bobby, let’s go out early and surprise the bus driver by him not having to wait. Grab your lunch.”

They were at the bus pick up spot early, and chatted about their day. Rachael really liked the energetic, imaginative little boy and hoped she could be a good influence on him. Soon she was on her own bus and soon an energetic and enthusiastic looking Michaela bounded down the aisle to plop down next to her.

“Well you seem to be in a good mood,” Rachael said with a smile. The shy, insecure girl seemed to be gone, replaced by a cheery, fun teen.

“Yeah. I went to bed early and got up early, so I had a good breakfast, then made my own lunch. No more mystery meat for me.”

“Good girl. What did you have for breakfast?”

“Three scrambled eggs, five slices of bacon and four pieces of toast,” she said with a smile. “It was so yummy.”

“Michaela Stoner, you didn’t,” Rachael said in shock.

“No I didn’t. I ate healthy. A bowl of Special K with low-fat milk, one toast, and some fruit.”

“That’s better. What about lunch?”

“ A meat sandwich and some more fruit. I’ll get a low-fat milk at school. Mom says that I can keep my school lunch money if I keep making my own lunch.”

“Cool.”

“Oh yeah, Mom is going to call to see if I can get permission to skip the bus on nice days and walk home with you.”

“Michaela, are you sure? It is a long walk for us. Bobby wouldn’t have made it if we hadn’t stopped to talk to Mr. Verdun. And you have another three or four blocks after our house.”

“I know, but I will make it. I mean, if you collapse half way home, they have to take you home, don’t they?”

“No, they take you to the hospital and that is way downtown. In your case it would be the looney bin, and I don’t know where that is,” Rachael said with a giggle. “But you are welcome to walk home with us. In fact, you can stop in at our house and rest up for the last part of the trip.”

Michaela’s eyes were wide. “I can come to your house? I’ve never had a friend invite me to their house. That would be so cool.”

“Chill, Michaela,” Rachael laughed. “It’s just for a half hour after school. It’s not a sleepover or anything.”

“A sleepover? Can we do that? I’ve never had a sleepover.”

“We’ll see,” Rachael said with a laugh. “Are you sure you aren’t high on something.”

“Just happiness,” Michaela said. “I finally have a friend. I think that yesterday was the best day of my life.”

“So far.”

“What?”

“The best day of your life so far. There will be better days in the future. Graduation, first dates, getting married, having kids, kids graduating. Your whole life is full of best days to come.”

Michaela stopped and thought about it. “That is so cool. Is that from a movie or something? It is a great way to think about stuff. Before yesterday I was depressed a lot. Now I think I was just lonely. Having a friend helps. Please always be my friend.”

“I will, don’t worry about that. Look, we are at the school already,” Rachael said.

“Yeah … do you think it will happen? The part about first dates and getting married?”

“Of course it will,” Rachael said. As they waited, the cool kids at the back of the bus barged past to get off first. “Nice barrette, Carly.”

Carly stopped and looked at the chubby girls and looked like she wanted to say something nasty. But instead she just said: “Thanks. It’s gold you know.”

“Well, it really makes your complexion look nice. The boys will be all over you today.”

“Really? You think so? If only Leon Michaels would notice.”

“He might. Do you want me to set it up for you?”

“Get out. No. You mean you would actually go up to a boy and talk to him.” Carly said. “I mean, maybe. It would be cool.”

“Come on, Carly,” Layla Patrelle said. “Let’s go. These guys are losers.”

Carly did move on with her girlfriends, but as she walked away she could be heard to say “I don’t think they are losers. They are kinda nice.”

Michaela and Rachael stared at each other, then started to giggle. “Did that just happen?” Michaela said. “Carly Henderson was nice to us.”

“We were nice to her, and she was nice back,” Rachael said. “People work like that, although I have to admit I thought it was going to take more than a couple days to get on her good side.

Courses at Ainsborough Middle School rotated the schedule on alternate days, so today Rachael started with French and then a double class of Phys. Ed., eventually ending with English. French was easy for her and she headed to the locker room to change into the sports gear she had washed the night before.

Midge Smith, the phys ed teacher was about 30, and nearly 6 feet tall in sneakers. She was thin and athletic, with short brown hair in a pixie cut. Most boys in the school considered her to best looking teacher in the building, and were upset that she was “wasted” on the girls while they had a middle-aged pot-bellied male teacher who couldn’t do half the things he made the students do.

Ms. Smith, on the other hand, was very hands-on. Today she was starting basketball, and Rachael smiled. Ron had been very good at basketball 40 plus years ago. Ms. Smith started bouncing balls out to the students, and telling them to warm up with shots on the eight baskets around the gym. She stopped when she saw Rachael.

“Rachael Carson, right?”

“Cartright, Miss,” Rachael corrected.

“We haven’t seen much of you this year, have we,” the coach said.

“No, sorry about that. I’m going to do better from now on. I promise.”

“We’ll see about that,” she said. Rachael gestured for her to pass the ball she was holding. The coach sent it over in a hard, fast spiral that may have been designed to knock the truant student off her feet. But Rachael caught it cleanly and took it to the basket for a mid-range jump shot.

Rachael took 15 or 20 shots before the coach next blew her whistle. She made one or two, but missed on most. Apparently 40 years of inactivity makes one a bit rusty, and having a smaller, more compact body with a different center of gravity didn’t seem to help.

The girls sat down in a semicircle around the coach after the whistle. Ms Smith told them she was going to teach them how to make, and defend, a lay-up shot. She explained the technique and then made a couple lay-ups to show how it was done. Then she asked for volunteers to help her demonstrate defence. No hands went up.

She fired the ball at Rachael, saying her name as the ball was halfway there, aimed pretty much at her head. But the young teen caught the ball and quickly got to her feet.

“Nice catch,” the coach said. “Now I want you to come at me like I just showed everyone. I will stand here, and you try to get the ball past me to the basket.”

Rachael started dribbling the ball several feet away from the basket. She deked left and right, and then stopped and set up for a jump shot.

“Lay-up,” the coach yelled in annoyance, and at that instant Rachael broke in on her with a long stride that left her inches away from the coach. She jumped and seemed to turn in towards the basket, but then changed direction just as her trailing foot left the floor, spinning away from the basket. The coach was caught off guard and barely had a chance to swat the ball away.”

Rachael ran to get the ball, rubbing her arm where the coach had slapped it.

“What Rachael just did is called a reverse lay-up,” Ms. Smith explained. “It is a highly effective variation on the lay-up I just showed, and usually isn’t taught until high school for boys, and college for girls.”

“But she missed,” Lucy Davners said. Under her breath, she added “Loser.”

“Actually she only missed because I fouled her. I’ve never had a student beat me in a lay-up and I guess my competitive streak took over. As a fouled shooter, Rachael gets two free throws. Take them, Rachael.”

Lucy was sitting on the middle of the free throw line in the key, and had to scoot away before Rachael took her shots. Rachael made the first shot with ease. On the second attempt, as she dribbled the ball before shooting, Lucy stuck out her foot and the ball bounded away.

“Sorry,” Lucy said in a patently insincere voice, and the other girls in her clique laughed. The ball rolled over to another girl, who passed it awkwardly back to Rachael. Rachael dribbled again, and from the corner of her eye saw that Lucy was going to repeat her prank. So instead of a dribble, Rachael slammed the ball to the floor, hitting Lucy full on the foot and driving her ankle into the floor. Luckily the ball shot right back up and Rachael made a rather unwieldy toss to the basket, which just happened to go in.

She looked down at Lucy, who was writhing in pain. “She deliberately hit me,” Lucy whined.

“No, I think you deliberately put your foot in the wrong place,” Ms. Smith said. “If you are hurt, you can go to the school nurse.”

Lucy struggled to her feet, helped up by three of her cohort. “Just Lucy,” Ms. Smith said.

“I need help”, Lucy said, trying her puppy dog eyes on the teacher. Ms. Smith was not buying it.

“If you need help, Rachael can help you. Everyone else here needs to practise their lay-ups.”

“Oh … I think I am all right to go myself,” Lucy said, and she limped away slowly, until she got through the gym doors at any rate.

The rest of the class was largely uneventful. Students practised lay-ups and defences under the watchful eye of the coach, and for the last half hour of the double class, the girls were split into four teams and played two half court games at the same time. Rachael was one of the four girls who had looked best in the practise, and were chosen as captains and had to pick girls for their teams.

Michaela was one of the clumsier players at the start of the session, but Rachael had spent most of the class helping her, and she was starting to get more comfortable with the ball and both lay-ups and set shots. Her jump shot remained horrible. So the girl was astonished when Rachael picked her first for her team.

“Thanks,” she whispered as she moved to stand behind Rachael as the others were picked. “I’ve never not been last or second last picked.”

“I picked you because you will help us win,” Rachael whispered back as she continued to pick until Janice Schlepper was chosen last.

Rachael acted as coach as well as star of the team, and quickly scored 10 points, including three steals from the other team players, and a block. The lone shot they took was a miss. Then Rachael sat down on the bench and put in one of the subs. As the game went on, Rachael would go in for a minute or two, and then sub out after scoring enough points to keep the score close. In that last minute of the game, with the teams tied, Rachael subbed off again, and put Janice in to replace her. Her team nearly prevented the other team from scoring, but with a couple seconds left they scored.

“They won,” Michaela said at the end of the game. “If you had been in instead of Janice, we would have won.”

“Winning isn’t important,” Rachael said. “We had fun, learned something, and got good exercise.” She then went around to all the other girls on both teams, congratulating them on a good game. When she got to Janice, the girl seemed on the verge of tears.

“We lost because of me,” she sobbed.

“No we didn’t. We won because of you,” Rachael said.

“What? We lost.”

“No, we won in the long run. We all had about the same amount of time on the court, so we all got experience that will make us better. The other team played their five best players for almost the entire game.”

“If you had been in more we could have won.”

“Yeah, but what was better. Sitting on the bench watching, or playing.”

“Playing. Although I would have preferred to be watching at the end. There was a lot of pressure.”

“That pressure will make you better. I just want you to know that the next time I get to be captain, I want you on my team again. You are a great player.”

“Really, you mean that?”

“Yes, come on, we need to go to the showers before the water is cold.”

They started to head for the change room. “Cartright, come here,” coach called out.

“Yes coach?”

“I was watching you today. I know you skipped a lot of my classes this term, and I could fail you for poor attendance. But I saw you helping other students during the practise, and then you did a stellar job as a captain. You gave all the players a chance to play good minutes, and didn’t take over at the end to make yourself the star. That was good sportsmanship. But why didn’t you make sure your team won.”

“Winning isn’t important,” Rachael said.

“Winning is always important,” Ms. Smith shouted, as though Rachael had uttered a sacrilege. “It is the most important thing. I was going to ask you to try out for the school team. You are better than some of the girls we had last year.”

“I can’t,” Rachael said. “The team practises after school, and I have to take my little brother home and tend him.”

“Damn,” the coach said softly. “Anyway, if you keep attitude up for the rest of the term, I will make sure you pass phys. ed. this year.”

“Thanks, coach.”

Rachael headed into the locker room and discovered almost all the other students were gone. Michaela and Janice were the only two left, and they were getting back into their school clothes.

“Hurry Rachael,” Michaela shouted as Rachael ran into the showers. She screamed a little as the water hit her. It was ice cold. It did encourage her to make it the quickest shower ever taken.

When she got out, she saw that Janice was gone. “She didn’t bring a lunch, so she has to go through the mystery meat line. I told her to rush ahead. She wants to join us at our table. Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

“Good. ‘Cause I think she wants to be friends. We had a nice talk while waiting for Ms. Smith to ream you out. We heard some yelling. What happened?”

“Mostly good stuff. The yelling was just because I’m not as intense as the coach. Win or die, you know? She wants me on the school BB team.”

“That’s cool. You would be great at it. You gonna try out?”

“Can’t. I have Bobby to look after.

“Maybe I could look after him?”

“That is sweet, Michaela, but it is something I have to do. You see, I have a plan. I want him to be a real stud when he starts high school in a few years.”

“Bobby? A stud?” Michaela giggled.

“Why not? He has to lose a little weight, and get good at sports, and then he will have it made. I’m also hoping I can help him with his marks. His reading is atrocious, and I think that is why he is having trouble with other subjects.”

“What about me?” Michaela asked. “Do you have a plan for me, too?”

“Yep. I plan to be your friend forever.”

“Wow. Two days ago I had no friends, now I have two.”

“It’s a start.” They were in the cafeteria, and as they entered Janice finished paying for her food, and carried her tray over to them. “Wanna sit with my friends?” she asked.

“We usually sit over there,” Rachael pointed.

“What, at the nerd table?”

“Yep. You don’t have to come with,” Rachael said. “I know you are in the a-list groups.”

“Well b-list maybe,” Janice said. She hesitated for a minute, then seemed to make up her mind. “What the heck. Let’s go.”

When the three girls sat down at the table, the boys already there seemed to all be doing impersonations of a drowning fish. Rachael introduced the boys to Janice, and ordered them to close their mouths. You see, while Janice was short, and totally inept at sports, she was gorgeous. She had been “dating” one of the football players until a few weeks ago, when she caught him kissing another girl. Her short black hair was in a fashionable Audrey Hepburn type of style, and her breasts were at least twice what Rachael’s were. The boys had accepted two plain, chubby girls at their table, but couldn’t conceive of a hot girl joining them. Janice was friendly with them, in spite of them being tongue-tied a bit. Eventually they loosened up and were actually able to conduct a conversation with her.

“Oh. My. God,” Rachael said.

“What?” Janice said, turning away from the joke on the guys was failing badly in telling.

“This sandwich. The bread is to die for. Take a bite.” First Michaela and then Janice took small bites, and agreed with Rachael’s assessment.

“Where did you get that? It tastes almost like cake instead of bread,” Janice said.

“A little bakery a few blocks down the road, we will pass it on the way home,” she told Michaela.

“Well, I’m going to get some,” Michaela said. That stuff is wonderful. It looks healthy too.”

“It is, although that place can be dangerous … what with the pastries and other things in there.”

“I will have to get Mom to try it out,” Janice said. “Are you guys walking home?”

“Yeah. My brother goes to Wislow, so I pick him up there and then we will walk home.”

“Oh, I’m on the 14 bus, so I go the other direction. It must be fun walking together.”

“Well, this is the first time for the two of us, though I did it yesterday with Bobby. But we are mostly doing it to get into shape, and girl, you are in the right kind of shape already.”

“Aw, thanks.”

“Look, I have to see someone,” Rachael said getting up. “You guys stay here.”

Rachael made her way across the cafeteria to the sports table, where she saw Leon Michaels. He was nearly 6 feet tall, and looked 16 rather than 13. His short black hair and actual beard stubble helped contribute to his studliness.

“Leon?” Rachael asked,

He turned around and looked her up and down, with a sneer that said he clearly was not impressed. “Yeah. What?”

“Are you dating anyone right now?”

“What, you want to date me?” he said with a laugh. The other boys at the table were intently listening and started to hoot and holler. “I’ve got tons of girlfriends, but you aren’t going to be one of them.”

“What about Carly Henderson? Interested?”

He suddenly got a serious look on his face. “Carly? Do you know her?”

“A bit. I do know she likes you.” The hoots increased another notch.

“Get out. You aren’t serious.”

“I am pretty sure if you asked her out, she would say yes.”

“No way! Really.”

“Yep, all you have to do is ask,” Rachael said. Then she watched as the macho stud seemed to morph into the insecure 13-year-old that most teens are inside.

“I … uh … would you ask her for me?”

“No,” Rachael laughed. “Look. If you want, I will walk with you over to her table. But you have to ask her.”

“Okay. When?”

“Now silly. You don’t want someone else to ask her first, do you?”

“No, no. But now?”

Rachael practically hauled him to his feet, and pushed him across the room. Halfway there Carly saw them coming. You could see the light bulb go on over her head, and she pushed one of her girlfriends down the bench to leave a blank space next to her.

Leon tried to veer away a couple times, and Rachael had to reel him back. Finally they were standing next to Carly, who seemed just as nervous as Leon was. For a minute no one said anything, so Rachael finally spoke up. “Leon would like to say something, Carly.”

“Yeah, um … I … ah … she,” he gestured at Rachael.

“Rachael,” she prompted.

“Yeah, Rachael said, you … um. That is … ah … Do you want to go out with me? Sometime? Maybe?”

“Yes, I would,” Carly said.

“Well, don’t just stand there like a dummy,” Rachael ordered the boy. “Sit down and work out a time and place.”

As he sat down on the bench, Rachael looked back, and saw Carly mouth the words ‘Thank You’. Rachael headed back to her table where everyone was looking at her.

“What did you just do?” Janice asked.

“I just did my Cupid thing,” I joked.

“Can you do that for me?” she answered.

“Yeah, who do you want me to lasso so you can brand him like Carly seems to be doing with Leon.”

“I dunno. Let me get back to you.”

Soon after that, the warning bell rang, and the students all filed out to go to their next classes. History and then math were just as easy as yesterday for Rachael, and then came English. This time she was in her seat when Mrs. Cathcart entered the room. Her eyes immediately scanned the room and spotted Rachael.

“I see you have come to my class two days in a row, and on time too today. I am honoured.”

“The first of many to come,” Rachael said proudly.

“I don’t suppose you have your assignment ready to read, do you?”

“Yes I do.” Mrs. Cathcart looked surprised at this.

“Then you will read it to the class.”

Rachael then read the title that was assigned as the topic for the paper. About me. Then she added a subtitle, called There and Back Again. She verbally credited Tolkein for the subtitle and then started reading her paper. The first part of the paper was from Rachael’s pre-Ron memories. She talked about the spiral of depression she had been on, the self-abuse and cutting she had gone through, and finally the story of the day she had hacked off her long hair after a biting comment from a classmate. There was a gasp from the back of the room, where Carly was sitting, as she recognized that the comment was one she had made.

The story then moved to the episode on the ladder, and how close she had come to jumping off. She explained the revelation she had, and how she decided to turn her life around. To grow up and no longer care what others thought, but to do what was right. To be the best person she could be, and to be a friend to everyone she met.

When she finished the story, she could see that almost every girl in the room was in tears. Some of the boys had watery eyes as well, and once again a slow clap started, but this time it transformed into general applause.

Mrs. Cathcart had to call for attention several times until the noise quieted down, although many girls were still sobbing. “Very well written, Miss Cartright … if it is your own work and not something copied from the Internet. If it is, I will find the real source. However, it is clearly a work of fiction, or fictionalized, and the assignment was meant to be of real life, and not embellished like this was. Clearly all the events of your paper didn’t happen to you. I cannot award a pass mark on this assignment.”

“But it is all true, Mrs Cathcart. This is not something I could fake,” Rachael said. With that, she rolled up the long sleeves of her sweater, and showed the scars on her arms, some only a week old. She then turned and showed her arms to her classmates, eliciting gasps.

When she turned back to the teacher, it was clear that Mrs. Cathcart was upset. For a moment she didn’t seem to know what to do, but she finally looked at the clock and then addressed the class.

“I know that we are less than halfway through the class, but it is last class of the day and I am going to dismiss you early. Don’t get into any trouble and don’t miss your buses. Leave your assignments on my desk before you leave. Miss Cartright will come with me.”

With that she escorted Rachael to the office. On the way she asked if everything in the paper was true. Rachael swore that it was, and handed the handwritten paper to her teacher, noting that she didn’t even have Internet access at home.

“Well, in light of that, I am fairly certain that I will have to give you a good mark on the paper. I won’t say until I have gone through it, but I think a mark of 100 may be appropriate. It certainly made an impact on your classmates.”

At the office they were turned over to the principal, Edna Deboer. Ms. Deboer had minored in psychology in university, and then taken a Masters of Education course in counselling. The result was that Rachael spent the next 25 minutes being analysed by the principal. Her mother was called at work, and was asked to come in. Maria said she was unable to, but told the principal that she was aware of both the cutting and the attempted suicide. She said she had confidence the crisis had passed, and that her daughter was now a changed person.

It was ten minutes after the final bell that Rachael finally had enough.

“I understand your concerns, Ms. Deboer. But you can rely that I am okay now, and in no danger of harming myself in any way. I have responsibilities now, and one of them is to pick up my brother at Wislow in a few minutes. So I really have to go now.”

With that she got up, and walked out of the office. She trotted to her locker to get what she needed for the night’s homework, and then hurried out the door. She found Michaela standing there.

“What happened?”

“Let’s talk as we walk. I don’t want to have Bobby waiting.” The two girls started over to the adjacent public school. “Mostly everyone thinks I’m a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode. I was a week ago, but I’m not anymore.”

“Was all of that true,” Michaela said as they got to the Wislow entrance.

“Every word.”

“Oh Rachael, I am so sorry. I didn’t know.” She wrapped her arms around the other girl.

“Rachael?”

“Yeah?”

“I know where you were. I was there myself. When you let me sit down with you on the bus. I was so close to what you tried. I’m just not brave enough to try. But I know what you felt.”

“I know. I could feel that from you. And I wanted to help you just like I was helped.”

“Who helped you?”

“Jesus.”

“Oh. I’m not religious.”

“Either was I.”

“But now?”

“Now I am.”

“Should I become religious too?”

“That is something you have to decide. But not by yourself. God is there, if you want him. He spoke to me on the ladder, or an angel of his did. It doesn’t matter. He told me if I jumped I would ruin many lives. My mom, my brother, my best friend.”

“I’m your best friend.”

“You are. But what would happen if tomorrow morning you woke up and found that I had killed myself.”

“Don’t say that. Ever.”

“But what would happen.”

“I would probably do it too.”

And that would ruin the lives of your parents, and your brothers. It would just be a cycle. They convinced me to prevent it from starting.”

“Rachael.” They looked up to see Bobby running towards them, with an older lady following behind.

“How could I leave that? Ruin his life,” Rachael said as her brother nearly tackled her with a hug.

“Look, look,” he said, waving a paper. “I got a star … my first star.”

“Wow,” I said, reading the paper. It said ‘For Reading’. “Momma is going to be so proud. I am so proud.”

“This is Mrs. Devine,” he said, pointing to the older woman. “My teacher.”

“I am so pleased to meet you,” she said. “Bobby was in reading class this morning, and I asked him to read a sentence. He normally has trouble reading, and I don’t like to push them too much. But he read nearly an entire page. He tells me you have been working with him, and reading Harry Potter with him.”

“We both like to read,” Rachael said. “I always have, and Bobby is just starting to love it.”

“Reading at home is so important,” Mrs. Devine said. “If we could only get more parents and family members to do so. One-on-one is the best way to learn to read, and we just don’t have time for it in big classes.”

Rachael thought for a second. “What if some of the kids from the middle school were to come over to your class? We could do one-on-one reading with your kids, and it would be a good volunteer activity for us.”

“That would be beyond wonderful,” the teacher said. “Let me talk to your principal about it.” With only a few more words of chatting, she went back into the school and the three started walking home.

“Sounds like you had a great day,” Michaela said. “Getting a star from your teacher.”

“My first star,” Bobby boasted. “It was the second best thing all day.”

“Second best,” Rachael asked. “What was first best?”

“Lunch,” Bobby said. “It was the best lunch ever. I had carrot soldiers, and pizza, and the best cookie ever.”

“Wait, pizza? How did you get pizza. It costs $5 doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, but Benji Miniver gave me his slice. We traded for half my carrot soldiers. He wanted all of them, but I liked them too much. Then he said half for half his pizza, and I said no again. Then he gave me all his pizza. It was the best pizza ever.”

“So Benji didn’t get any pizza?”

“No, he went back and got more. His Dad gives him lots of money, so he had enough.”

“So who ate your sandwich?”

“I did. It was the best sandwich ever. And the cookie …”

“Let me guess … best cookie ever,” Michaela said, teasing the little boy.

“Better than that. Way better.”

“Well if you had pizza, soldiers, cookies, and a sandwich then you couldn’t possibly be hungry now,” Rachael said.

“Yes I am,” Bobby said. “Lunch was a long time ago.”

“Well, we are nearly at DaSilva’s. Maybe I will have enough money to buy you an apple.”

“Cookies? From that bakery?”

“An apple. You don’t need cookies. Although we do need to go to the Bread Baron and get a loaf of bread if you want the best sandwich ever again tomorrow. Since you got a star, maybe Momma will put another cookie in your lunch tomorrow.”

“But you make my lunch, Rachael. I can tell. Momma’s lunches aren’t so fun.”

“Momma helped make that lunch. And she is the one who pays for all the stuff we put into it.”

“Thanks for making me cool lunches. All the kids at my table are jealous when I get special treats from you.” With that Bobby gave Rachael a tight hug that surprised her, and gladdened her to her very core.

“Aww, you guys are so sweet,” Michaela said. “I wish I got along with my little brother like you do. We just fight.”

“Rachael used to fight with me, but she doesn’t anymore,” Bobby said. “Now she is the best sister ever.”

Michaela smiled. “You just have to start doing things for him,” Rachael said. “Hugs like that are great payoffs for anything I do.”

“Well, maybe I could read to him tonight. He’s a couple years younger than Bobby, but he really likes books.”

“You could get free books in the library,” Bobby said as they walked up to the building.

“Oh, Danny has lots of books at home,” Michaela said.

“Can we get more books, Rachael?” Bobby pleaded.

“Nope, not until we finish up with the ones we have. Come on, let’s see if DaSilva’s have any nice apples.

Bobby got his apple, and was happily munching it when they got to the Bread Baron. The baker was in front, writing on the special’s board. Rachael saw it was the man who had directed her to the fresh loaf of bread the day before.

“Are you the baker?” she asked.

“I am,” he said. “Geoff Barron.”

“Oh, so that’s where the name comes from,” Rachael said. “We have a complaint about the bread you sold us yesterday.”

“Oh my, what?” the man said in a concerned voice.

“It didn’t last long enough,” she said with a smile. “We have to get another loaf today … and there are only three of us in the family. Bobby here really loves it.”

“Best bread ever,” Bobby said.

“Oh my, that is a great quote. Can I put it on the sign?” He moved to the other side of the sign and wrote “Best Bread Ever. Bobby …”

“Cartright” Rachael said. “We even talked my friend Michaela into trying a loaf.”

“Good,” Geoff said. “We can use all the sales we can get. Take your loaves from the bottom shelf. Those are the fresh ones. Just came out of the oven this morning. The ones higher up are yesterday’s. Don’t tell Mom I said so.”

“Your Mom works the till?”

“Yeah. She has too. I start baking at 11 p.m., so there is no way I can keep the shop open till 6 p.m. I’m heading up to bed now.”

“It’s nearly 4. You mean you only get 7 hours off?” Michaela said.

“I get another hour sleep around midnight, when the bread is rising,” Geoff said. “But it is hard when you are just starting out. We’ve only had the store going for a few months. It is growing, but slowly.”

“Well, we will let you go then. Thanks for making such great bread.”

“And cookies too,” Bobby added.

“Thanks kids. It really helps to know people appreciate what I’m doing.”

Geoff headed to the back of the bakery. Apparently he had a room in the apartment upstairs. The other three went into the bakery, where Rachael bought another loaf of seven-grain bread, from the bottom shelf, while Michaela bought a loaf of seven-grain, a loaf of white, and a few pastries and brownies. Bobby just drooled at all of the tasty treats, but didn’t ask for anything.

After that they walked and chatted as they headed home. Just before they got to Mr. Verdun’s house Bobby noticed a sign in the window of the house next door. “What does that say,” he asked Rachael.

“You can read. You tell me,” his sister said.

“Pie-an-o … piano. Less-uns … lessons. Piano lessons,” Bobby proudly said. “Is it a school?”

“No, I think the lady teaches piano to people,” Rachael said. “Look, Mr. Verdun is coming out.”

They walked up the drive to the old gentleman’s porch as he came out on his walker. There was something in a white grocery bag tied to the walker.

“Bonjour, Monseiur Verdun. Comme t’allez vous? ” Rachael said.

“Oh my, that takes me right back to the old days,” he said as he eased into his chair on the porch. “I was hoping to see my little friends again, and now I see that there are three, instead of two. Welcome.”

Rachael introduced Michaela to the old man, who then looked at Bobby. “I have something to show you, young man. He slowly opened the bag on his walker, and reached in with feeble, gnarled fingers. Eventually he pulled out a Canadian Army helmet from World War II.”

“Is it real?” Bobby’s eyes were about as wide as they could be.

“Yes it is,” M. Verdun said. “That helmet was at Dieppe and went from Juno Beach to Holland in ‘44 and ‘45.”

“Can I play with it?”

“No Bobby,” Rachael said sharply. “It isn’t a toy. It’s history.”

“Yes son, you can play with it. Even if your sister doesn’t think you should. It has seen a lot of history. And a lot of bad things too. I would like to see it being used as a toy. I just wish it could have been a toy for all its life.”

The old man seemed to have a tear in his eye as he handed the helmet to Bobby, who promptly put it on and began running around the yard, fighting battles and giving orders to his imaginary soldiers. Rachael and Michaela sat on opposite sides of the steps and chatted with the old man, who happily recounted his experiences. Occasionally he would touch on the war years, but more of it was the years before, when he was their age, and the years after. He told them that he remembered when his house was the only one on the street, which then was a dusty country road, with the next neighbour a half-mile away.

They chatted for a half hour, since they were in less of a rush and then Bobby finally returned the helmet. As they were leaving, it was clear that the old man was having trouble getting his walker up into the house, and Rachael stopped to help him. For the brief moment she was inside she noticed that the house was a mess, with newspapers all over.

“Would you mind if I came by on Saturday afternoon?” Rachael asked as she helped him in. “I could help you tidy this place up.”

“That would be a blessing,” the old man said as she helped him into a recliner. “I used to have a cleaning lady, but when she quit I couldn’t find a new one … apparently the old one wasn’t charging me the full rate.”

“Well, my rate is a special one, for friends only,” Rachael said as she kissed the man on his cheeks again. “No charge if you tell Bobby more war stories.”

Such a sweet girl, the old soldier thought as she went out the door.

The three kids walked the five blocks to the Cartright home, with Michaela getting more and more excited about visiting a friend’s house. They got home, and Michaela got the grand tour of the tiny house. Then Rachael helped Bobby pin his paper, with a red star, on the fridge door with a magnet.

“Your house is cute,” Michaela said hesitantly.

“Most houses are a lot bigger,” Rachael admitted. “But it is perfect for the three of us. I bet your house is bigger.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Michaela said. “Maybe you will come over one day?”

“I’d love to. Maybe we could do the sleepover at your house? Do you think Janice would come?” Rachael asked as she started preparing supper.

“Oh my god, do you think she would? Imagine having a sleepover at my … what are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m making dinner,” Rachael said. “I do that so we can have a healthy meal. Although we are having chicken fingers tonight. I don’t know how I’m going to make that healthy. I guess they aren’t too bad, if we bake them instead of frying them.”

“You make dinner. Every night? My Mom does that, except on Fridays when we order in pizza.”

“Can I help? Sure. Bobby has to toss the salad though, or he won’t eat it. But you can chop up the stuff in it while I get the meat ready.”

Rachael turned away, and texted a message to her mother.

Can Michaela stay for dinner with us? There is enough stuff.

Maria answered right away. You are the cook. You get to decide.

Thanks Mom. She will have to ask her mom for permission.

“Great job Michaela. Do you want to stay over for dinner?”

The other girl looked at Rachael with wide eyes. “Are you serious? Can I?”

“If your parents say it is okay. Tell them Mom said it was okay.”

“Whee,” screamed Michaela as she hung up the phone. “Mom will come and pick me up at 8:00.”

The two girls made dinner, including making biscuits to stretch out the meal, something Michaela had never done (and Rachael had only done as Ron). They turned out perfectly, and Maria was blasted by the wonderful baking aroma when she got in a bit before 7. After Maria noticed the paper tacked to the fridge door, Bobby got more kudos for his good work reading, leaving the little guy bursting with pride. The four sat down and had barely finished the meal when Andrea Stoner arrived to pick up Michaela a few minutes before 8.

She agreed to sit for a coffee with Maria while the girls did the dishes.

“I want to thank you for letting Michaela stay over for dinner,” Andrea told Maria as giggling came from the kitchen. “My daughter hasn’t been this happy in months. We moved into town in the spring, and it has been hard for Michaela to make friends. She came home from school on cloud nine yesterday. And this … helping in the kitchen. I really don’t believe it.”

“It is something new with Rachael too,” Maria admitted. “I am just praying that it will continue. It is like she grew up 10 years overnight.” Just then the girls came in with two coffees, and a plate of biscuits.

“Oh my,” Andrea said eyeing the biscuits. “If I hadn’t just eaten.”

“Your daughter made them,” Rachael said.

“Really?” Andrea’s eyes went wide. “I’ll have to try one, then.”

“Well, Rachael did most of it, but I helped.”

The girls went back into the kitchen to finish the dishes. “To tell you the truth, I don’t have many friends in the city yet,” Andrea said. “Other than the girls from work, that is.”

“Well, I think my daughter would be upset with me if I didn’t offer my friendship to you,” Maria said. “She is on a kick to see people make friendships.”

“I would like that,” Andrea said.

That night, after the Stoners had left, Rachael only had about 15 minutes to read with Bobby from his picture books. Then it was off to bed, and a much shorter reading of Harry Potter.

Her prayer that night was much the same as the prior nights, although Rachael noted that during the day she had intentionally hurt Lucy Davners in basketball practise, and had upset Mrs. Cathcart in English class. She promised to try to make things up to both people tomorrow.

A Second Chance -- Chapter 5

By Dawn Natelle

FRIDAY, April 29, 2016

English was the first class today, and Rachael went to the staff room and waited outside before the first class. Mrs. Cathcart came out of the room, and Rachael walked beside her to the class.

“I’m sorry if I upset you yesterday, Mrs. Cathcart,” she said. “That wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to write a good paper.”

“It was a good paper,” the teacher said. “I went over it carefully last night, and found only a few errors. It is so much better than anything else you have done that I was quite certain that it was copied. But I compared the handwriting, and it is clearly yours. I have no choice but to give you a perfect mark on it, even though I am a bit suspicious.”

Rachael’s initial reaction was negative … the woman seemed incapable of accepting the work was hers. But she remembered her mission, and instead of a sharp retort, she said: “I’m sorry that my past work hasn’t been that good, Mrs. Cathcart. I really wasn’t very motivated … before the incident. But you are a good teacher, and I guess I have been learning things. I just didn’t put the effort into using them before.”

Mrs. Cathcart stopped dead and looked at the girl, trying to decide if this was sincere, or simply flattery. She finally decided on the former. “Thank you Rachael. If you keep up the good work you could end the year with a good mark, in spite of being on the borderline right now. In the old days you would be in danger of failing, but that doesn’t happen very often anymore. But other teachers have mentioned a turnaround in your attitude this week. Let’s hope it continues.”

With that they entered the classroom, with Rachael politely holding the door for her teacher. She was rewarded with a smile, probably the first one that Mrs. Cathcart had given her all year. The class had three other students read their assignments. None affected the class the way Rachael’s had, but several were quite good for Grade 8 work. Clearly they were the best assignments of the ones that the teacher had read the evening before.

At the end of the class, Mrs Cathcart made an announcement to the class about the Youtube video. “Apparently a few minutes of my class was videoed by a student, and posted to Youtube the other day. The principal and I have reviewed the video and we have decided to leave it online, since it was accurate and educational. Up to now there have been no school policies about videoing class activities, but this is changing and as of now you can consider that this is no longer allowed. A student doing so can be expelled at the worst. If you tape something that you think would be cool online, you need to get permission from the teacher and the principal first. There will be no ramifications from this initial attempt. What is it at now? Five million views?”

“Nearly 23 million, Mrs. C,” Leon said, looking at his cell phone.

Then the class was dismissed, but Rachael was held back by the teacher. Mrs. Cathcart handed her a page with five assignments listed on it. “You have missed five assignments during the year so far,” she said. “I can’t let you do them now, since you may have read the papers of your friends. So I wrote out some replacement assignments you can do instead, if you wish. Do one a week and by the end of the term you may be able to get an A in the class. Without them, you could get a C or a C+, assuming you continue to do well in the rest of the year.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Cathcart. I will do them. I appreciate you going to the extra work of making these assignments and offering to mark them. This is why you are a good teacher, I guess.”

The elderly teacher was beaming as the young girl darted out to catch up for her next class.

Math and History went quickly after English, and Rachael was in the cafeteria. She stood at the door for a moment, and looked around, finally seeing Lucy Davners at the cheerleader table. She approached.

“Lucy,” she said as she neared the table.

“What do you want, freak,” Lucy sneered.

“I wanted to know if your foot is okay. I shouldn’t have hit it.”

“I knew you did it on purpose,” the tall blonde said. “Joke’s on you. It really wasn’t hurt that much. But it did get me out of Phys. Ed.”

“I just wanted to say ‘I’m sorry,’” Rachael said.

“Beat it,” Lucy said rudely. “Go find the rest of the freak show.”

With that Rachael walked over to her friends, who were looking for her. It had been an attempt to rebuild bridges, but Lucy didn’t seem too interested. Rachael would have to come up with another tack.

Afternoon classes went smoothly, and soon it was last bell. Michaela and Rachael headed over to the primary school, where they saw Bobbie coming towards them. They were about to head off, when they heard a shrill voice call out Michaela’s name. Rachael turned to see a small girl with the most beautiful blonde curls halfway down her back, running towards them.

“It’s my brother Danny,” Michaela said. “He is in Grade 1 here.”

“I wanna walk home with you guys,” he said. Rachael couldn’t get the idea of ‘girl’ out of her mind. The boy was smaller than most in the lot, and prettier than many of the girls, and of course all of the boys.

“You can’t,” Michaela said firmly. “Mamma has to tell the school. You need to get to your bus before they leave without you.”

“That would be okay,” Danny said. “Then I can walk with you.”

“Yes, but you will get in trouble. With Mamma and with the school. Do you want to get in trouble?”

“No, I guess not,” the boy said, turning and running away. Rachael realized that he even runs like a girl.

“So that is my bratty little brother,” Michaela said. “Let’s go, Mom wants me to pick up more stuff at that bakery. What we had last night was a real treat. The bread was gone by breakfast this morning, so I’m lucky I had made my lunch last night.”

“I have to pick up some things at DaSilva’s, too,” Rachael said.

“Oh, do you think Tony will be there?”

“He might. He does live there.”

“What, in the store?”

“There are apartments above the store. I just assume that they live there, on account of them just having started the place. I might be wrong.”

“No, it makes sense. I never thought about Tony not having a home,” Michaela said pensively.

“He has a home, silly. It’s just not a house. I bet they have more space than our house.”

“Yeah, your house is pretty small. But with only three, it seems cosy.”

“How many in your family, Mikki?”

“Huh? What did you call me?”

“Mikki,” Rachael said. “Don’t you like it? It is a nickname. Michaela is such a pretty name, but sometimes a shorter name is better. You can call me Rach if you want to.”

“No one has ever given me a nickname before,” Mikki said, choking up a bit. “Mom calls me Kayla some times, but I never had friends around here.”

“Kayla is cool, I can use that.”

“No. I like Mikki. Please call me that.”

“Okay. So … your family?”

“Oh yeah. You met Danny, who is the baby, and still gets treated like one. He can get away with anything from Mom. Dad, not so much. He kinda wants Danny to be more … boyish, like Kyle. Kyle is in Grade 10 and is a real pain. The only thing worse than a younger brother is an older one. Dad works in the city … Mississauga actually, so he has a two hour drive to work every day. We don’t see him much except on weekends and holidays. Mom works at the bank downtown.”

“It must be nice having a Dad,” Rachael said wistfully.

“What happened to your Dad? Did he die or something?”

“No, he skipped off when Mom was pregnant with Bobby. I haven’t seen or heard from him since. I guess I can understand it, he was only 20 years old, and having two kids. He just ran away. But he left Mom, who was only 19 with two kids. Well, one coming. It is hard for her. She never dates or anything.”

“Maybe she will meet someone rich, and you can move into the biggest house in town and have all new clothes, and a new car when you get old enough,” Mikki dreamt.

“I would settle for someone who would work hard, and love Mom and me and Bobby. We are used to being poor. Being happy is so much better.”

The long chat ended when they got to M. Verdun’s house, where the old man was sitting on the porch holding a pile of papers. “Ma jeune filles,” he called as they walked up the drive. “And the petit soldier boy. I knew you wouldn’t forget an old man.”

“Are you kidding, M. Verdun,” Rachael said cheerily. “Bobby would go nuts if we didn’t stop in to see his hero. And Bobby doesn’t get angry easily.”

“He is a good boy,” the old man said, and Bobby beamed.

“You got any war stories to tell me,” Bobby asked.

“Oui, oui,” M. Verdun held up his papers. “I got my old book out. About 30 years ago I was going to write my stories down, but then Marie, ma chere, she passed on.” He choked up for a moment, and it was clear to Rachael that he still wasn’t over the loss of his wife. She broke the moment by asking to see the papers. They were handwritten in a spidery pen, with English and French intermingled just as the old soldier spoke. Rachael was able to translate as she read, although Mikki, looking over her shoulder, had more trouble where the prose changed into French.

“This is wonderful stuff,” Rachael said after reading a half page about a skirmish a few miles in from Juno Beach. “It comes alive.”

“Bah, just the ramblings of an old man. I have much more inside. I just brought this bit out to help me remember for young Bobby’s stories.”

The three of them spent a half hour fascinated by the tales he told them. It was only when Rachael saw that he was getting tired that she said they had to get home … to Bobby’s chagrin. Rachael and Mikki helped him into his messy living room and set him down in his recliner. He was asleep before they left, locking the door behind them.

“He is very old, isn’t he,” Mikki said as they walked on home.

“I’m sure. The war started in 1939, and he was at the Dieppe raid in 1942. That was a fiasco, with the Canadian troops left on their own when the British Navy didn’t do their bit. M. Verdun was one of the few that got back, I don’t know how. Most of them wound up as prisoners for years. That means that he would have to be born before, say 1924. That would make him just over 90 years old.”

Mikki was staring at Rachael in amazement. “How do you know all that?”

“It’s just math,” Rachael said.

“No, the stuff about the war. Dates and what happened and why.”

Oops, Rachael thought. I got carried way there. I can’t really tell her that Ron was a history buff, and well-read on the wars. “I read a lot,” she said. “I guess I remember things, well.”

Michaela stopped in for a few minutes and helped make Bobby’s snack, giving him a battalion of carrot soldiers, along with another batch made from a celery stalk. As they chatted in the kitchen Mikki asked: “What are you going to do this weekend?”

“I dunno. Stuff with Bobby, I hope. Mom should have the day off, so I don’t know. Come on over if you want.”

“What time?”

“Probably around 8. After that you will find us at the park, I guess. In the afternoon I will be at M. Verdun’s”

“Vet Park? I won’t be up until 10 at least on Saturday. I like to sleep in.”

“Bobby does too, but I’m not letting him. Mom needs a morning off. Sunday we will go to church, and then I’m planning a big dinner.”

“You cooking again?”

“I like it. It is rewarding when people enjoy the things you made.”

“Yeah, I guess so. It was cool when my Mom was eating those biscuits we made. Where do you go to church?”

“Not sure … this is the first time. Since … well, Monday … I feel I need to go, and Mom said she and Bobby would come with me. Probably that little Presbyterian church on the corner. It is only a couple blocks to walk. If we are still doing this in winter we don’t want to walk a long way.”

“That’s right, you don’t have a car, do you? Our church is the United one, closer to downtown. Not that we go very often. Easter and Christmas mostly.”

After Mikki left, Rachael made dinner, reading with Bobby while things were cooking. She had bought a pound of hamburger at DaSilvas and some rolls at the Bread Baron, so tonight was Sloppy Joe night. Bobby made the salad again, and when Maria got home she was nearly in tears knowing that she didn’t have to cook. Bobby, who had never had Sloppy Joes before, pronounced it his new favourite food, surpassing even pizza.

The bad news of the evening was learning that Maria had agreed to take shifts at the restaurant on Saturday and Sunday evening, after one of the other waitresses got pissed off at the owner Joe’s temper tantrum of the day, and quit on the spot.

That evening, after another half hour of Harry Potter with Bobby, and her homework done, Rachael knelt at the side of her bed and began her confessions.

Dear Lord

Thank you for giving me this wonderful opportunity to do good. The first school week gone, and mostly going well, although I still need to work on Lucy. Perhaps I can’t make everyone my friend, but at least let her not feel she is my enemy. Look after Mom and Bobby, Mikki and Danny and their family, M. Verdun, and all the people at the school.

A Second Chance -- Chapter 6

By Dawn Natelle

This is the last of the daily episodes. I managed to write it as the first five were running, but it may be up to a week before I get the next installment to our little story. Sorry for those of you who have been reading it daily, but I'm no Angarad, able to post a story a day: Dawn.

SATURDAY, April 30, 2016

Rachael was up at 7, only slightly later than school mornings. When she reached the kitchen she noticed there was a half-loaf of store bread in the fridge. Once the family had tasted Bread Baron bread, no one wanted to clean it up. Rachael knew that it would go stale soon, and didn’t want to waste it. Then inspiration hit. She got out the bread and some eggs, and started whipping up French Toast.

“What are these wonderful smells coming from my kitchen?” Maria said as Rachael handed her a coffee.

“It is my kitchen now, Mother,” the girl said. “And don’t you forget it. We have French Toast on the menu today.”

“With Bread Baron bread?” Maria asked hopefully.

“No, with the old stuff that is getting too stale for anything else. It should just about make three good helpings of French toast. It sucks that you have to go to work today, but at least you will get there with a full stomach.”

“What smells so yummy,” a half naked Bobby said, wearing only his underpants, as he hugged Rachael’s legs, and then his mom’s.

“French Toast,” Rachael said, “and it is really yummy, so you better run upstairs and get dressed before Mom and I eat it. Wear jeans and a t-shirt. I didn’t put clothes out for you today.”

The family enjoyed their meal, with Bobby announcing that French Toast was ‘the best breakfast ever.” They lingered over the table until near 8, and were just washing the dishes when Michaela tapped on the door.

“You got up early,” Rachael said as she let her friend in.

“Yeah, I woke up and thought: ‘go back to sleep, or go visit my new friend.’ Guess which one I chose.”

“You just missed breakfast,” Bobby announced. “We had French Toast. It was yummy.”

“Aww,” Mikki said. “I just had regular toast. But there is a yard sale on the next block down the street. Do you want to go?”

“I do,” Maria said. Yard sales were one of the ways that she stretched her budget. “Let’s go.”

They got to the house with the sale on and found that the man was still putting things out. Rachael immediately noted a box with sports gear in it. There were three ball gloves, a baseball, a softball and a bat. There was a note of $5 written on it.

“Is that for the whole box, or just the bat,” Rachael asked as the man walked by.

“The whole box,” he said as he went back into his garage, where Rachael noticed that a police cruiser sat.

“Can we get this?” she asked her mom. “I’ll use some of my babysitting money.”

“Maybe,” Maria said. “Look, there is an entire table of women’s clothing. She held some up against her. Too small in the bust for me, but some of these would look good on you. Let’s go through them. Oooh, look, the price is $1 per item.”

In the end Michaela got 20 items, tops, skirts and dresses, some of which would not fit unless she lost a few more pounds. Maria also bought 20 items for Rachael, who insisted on a few skirts that Maria could also share. They ended up with a total of $45 for the man, since they decided to buy the sports box as well.

“Why are you getting rid of so many things?” Rachael asked him as they were packing up.

“Mostly to get rid of all my ex-girlfriend’s things. She decided she didn’t want to date a cop, so she left me, and left all her old things. I put out some of the my other stuff just to top up the sale, like the sports stuff and some of my old clothes.”

Then he looked at Maria, who was packing clothes into shopping bags. “Tell you what, if you give me your sister’s phone number, I’ll let you take another 10 items free.”

“My sister? Oh, you mean my Mom. She is only 30, and single. She works as a waitress at Joe’s cafe. I won’t give you her number, but I will introduce you. What is your name?”

“Steve Winslow,” the man said. “I am safe,” he said, “if you consider a member of the town police force safe.”

“Mom,” Rachael said as Maria came over. “I want you to meet Steve Winslow. He is on the town police force. He thought you were my sister,” she giggled.

“I admit it,” Steve said. “I tried to bribe her to get your number. She wouldn’t go for it.”

“She certainly should not have,” Maria said testily. “I’m sorry, but I’m currently not free to date. I have two young children to look after. Thanks for asking though.”

“You have quite a load of things,” Steve said. “I could deliver them later if you like? Just leave them in the garage and I’ll drive them to your home after noon when this sale wraps up.”

“We only live a couple blocks away,” Maria said in a politer voice. “We can manage. And I will be at work after noon. I think the kids have plans too, so there won’t be anyone home.”

With that the four headed back, with the girls carrying bags of clothes, and Bobby dragging his box of sports equipment. When they got back to the house, Maria had to hurry to get ready for work, so Rachael carried her bags up to her room, unbagging them so they wouldn’t be too wrinkled later. Michaela left her bags on the sofa.

Then the kids gathered up the gloves and the softball, leaving the baseball and the bat, and walked over to Vet Park, about four blocks away. When they got there they found there were a group of boys playing on the baseball diamond, but Rachael didn’t want that space anyway. She took the others to a spot on the other side of the bleachers.

“Okay,” she said. “This is a ball toss game. We start with everybody in close, and we toss the ball to one another. If you catch it, you take a step back.”

“How do you win?” Bobby asked.

“We all win if we have fun,” Rachael said. “Mikki and I will get good exercise. You will too, but you will also get good with a ball, and someday you will be able to play out there with the big boys.”

“Cool,” Bobby said and held out his glove like a basket. Rachael tossed the ball gently into it, but it popped out.

“Good first try. You have to squeeze a bit when the ball goes into it,” Rachael said. “Watch carefully when Mikki tosses the ball to me. Mikki tossed the ball … they were really too close to actually call it throwing … and Rachael caught it.

It was not until the fourth toss that Bobby caught the ball. He was ecstatic, and jumped up and down, and then was a little wild in his toss to Mikki, causing her to have to jump and run after the ball. But Bobby proudly took a step back.

They played for about an hour, with Bobby gradually getting comfortable with the ball coming towards him. They were now about 25 feet apart, and were throwing the ball, rather than just tossing it. I throw like a girl now, Rachael realized, and she tried to remember the mechanics of throwing from her youth. She knew that girls could throw as well as boys. Not as far or hard perhaps, but with the same action. She had seen the women’s college teams on television, and they did not ‘throw like a girl.’

Bobby now was catching the ball about half the time, and running to chase it down when he missed. Rachael tossed one a bit too high, and Bobby put his glove up and managed to catch it over his head, to his surprise. “Best catch ever,” he said as he threw the ball generally in Mikki’s direction, causing her to have to scramble after the ball.

At first they had worked in the same direction, Rachael to Bobby, Bobby to Mikki, and Mikki back to Rachael. But after they started getting some distance apart, Rachael realized that it was unfair to Mikki, since Bobby’s throws were often wild, and she was running all over the place chasing the ball. So they switched directions, so it was Rachael doing the running. Of course Bobby had to run a lot in either case, because he only caught the ball about half the time.

This left all three exhausted after an hour, so they moved to the bleachers. Rachael had filled three water bottles before they left, and pulled them out. As they watched the bigger boys playing, Rachael explained the game to Bobby. There was no umpire for the game, so the batters would stay at the plate until they hit a ball, fair or foul. As well there were arguments over who was safe or out on close base calls. But overall the boys were just boys having fun. Rachael could see that Bobby wished he could join in.

That little boy way out there is only my age,” Bobby said, pointing to a boy in right field.

“He is a year older than you,” Rachael said. “He goes to our school, in Grade 5 I think. Next year you could be playing with them, or even sooner if you do a lot of practice and get good. They put him in the outfield because he isn’t as good as the older boys. You have to be really good to play on the bases, and super good to be pitcher or catcher.”

“What now?” Mikki asked after a few more minutes. “No more ball I hope. My legs are still sore from all that running.”

“Yeah. I bet you only lost one or two pounds this morning,” Rachael said. “Hardly worth it, was it?”

Now it was Mikki’s turn to get big eyes. “Do you really think we lost weight? That would be so cool.”

“Well, I know we didn’t gain any. If we’d been sitting watching cartoons on TV we probably would have. Let’s go. There is a grocery store about five blocks past the park, and I need to buy things if Bobby and I plan on eating next week. Mom gave me the grocery money.”

So they put their gloves and the ball into Rachael’s backpack and headed off to the store. At the store Rachael got a cart and took the others throughout the market, buying some meats, including two whole chickens, and other staples. They skipped the bakery section, since they had a much better bakery on the way home from school, Similarly, they didn’t buy any produce, although Rachael explained to Mikki how much lower the quality of the stock here was compared to DaSilva’s.

She did spend some time in the baking aisle, buying flour, sugar, and other baking products. Bobby ranged ahead of them, keeping in sight, and ran back holding a bag of cookies. “Rachael, Rachael,” he said. “These are the kind of cookies my babysitter used to have.”

“No Bobby, put them back,” she said, and watched as his face fell. “Look in the basket. See that big yellow bag? It is flour, and with it I can make dozens more cookies than in that little bag. Bobby brightened again and ran off chanting ‘cookies, cookies’ and then replaced the bag on the shelf.

“He is so cute,” Mikki said. “Danny would have just sat down on the floor in the middle of the store and had a temper tantrum until Mom bought him what he wanted.”

“The difference is that we can’t cater to his whims,” Rachael said. “Mom only has so much money for groceries.”

At the checkout Rachael was worried that the total would exceed the $80 her mother had given her, but the total only came to $45 and change, mainly because she had avoided pre-packaged foods. It was still a full cart.

“I don’t know how we will get all this home,” Rachael said. Then she noticed a taxi driver parked at the curb. She asked Mikki to watch the cart and went over to the driver, asking what it would cost for a ride to their home. Rachael knew her mother often used a taxi when she got the groceries.

“Come on,” she told the others. “We are riding home today. It will only cost $7 or so.”

The cabbie loaded the groceries into his trunk, and then the three kids got into the back seat. The walk that had taken them 20 minutes, between the walk to the park, and then from the park to the store, was only a five-minute ride. The meter on the taxi read $7.15, and Rachael gave the man $8, apologizing for not being able to tip more. The man seemed happy, and helped unload the groceries onto the front step before driving off.

The gang went into the house and packed the groceries away. As Rachael put the chickens into the fridge, she realized that if they had walked it might have taken 30 or 40 minutes to get home, with rest breaks. The chicken could have started to turn during that time. The taxi had been a good investment.

“Now what?” Mikki asked.

“Lunch. It is only 11, but I want to make us a good lunch. I wonder if you could read to Bobby while I make some soup and sandwiches?”

Mikki and Bobby read for about an hour, and Mikki noticed that he improved even during that time. She vowed that she would start reading to her little brother that night. Meanwhile, more and more intense aromas started coming from the kitchen.

“Is it food yet?” Bobby shouted as he got up from the big old chair that Mikki and he had been reading in.

“Just about,” Rachael said. “Do you want to help Mikki set the table? You know where everything is. We need bowls for the soup, and plates for the sandwiches. Spoons for the soup, but I don’t think we need knives or forks.

“This is wonderful soup,” Mikki said as they sat at the table after Rachael led them in prayer.

“Best soup ever,” Bobby claimed.

“It is just vegetable soup,” Rachael said. “Wait until after we finish the chicken Sunday night. Then I will make you chicken noodle soup, with homemade noodles.”

The accompanying sandwiches were a hit too. They were only bologna that Rachael had bought at DaSilva’s on Friday, but meat sandwiches were rare at the Cartright house. The fact that the bologna was spiced slightly differently to the packaged type just made the inexpensive meat taste all that much better, especially on Bread Baron bread.

As they ate, more smells started coming from the kitchen. Rachael popped up, and went to the stove, and took something out, and came back enveloped in the most tantalizing aromas.

“There is more, isn’t there?” Michaela guessed.

“Yes, but we won’t talk about it until we have all finished eating,” Rachael said, winking at her friend and glancing at her brother. Mikki got the hint and said nothing more.

When they finished eating, Bobby carried his dishes into the sink and then the others heard a little scream. “Cookies. Cookies. Rachael made cookies. Can I have one?”

“They are still a bit too hot,” Rachael said. “They should be perfect by the time we get the dishes done. I made enough dough for two more pans full, so we can have some tomorrow, and there might even be a cookie for each day at school next week.”

After the dishes were done, and four of the cookies had disappeared, two into Bobby, they gathered up cleaning supplies. As well, Rachael filled a margarine container with soup and made and wrapped up a sandwich, popping a cookie into the bag. Then they all headed over to M. Verdun’s.

The old man was sitting on the porch eagerly waiting for them.

“Mes amies,” he said. “You have not forgotten the old man.”

“We will never forget,” Rachael told him. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No dear,” he said. “The Meals on Wheels does not come on the weekends. I have some cereal in the cupboard that I can eat if I get hungry.”

“You will not,” Rachael ordered. “You come inside and eat. I have soup and a sandwich. You and Bobby can sit at the table, and Mikki and I will start to clean up in here.”

The old man only ate the soup, while Bobby nibbled at a cookie Rachael had packed for him. M. Verdun put the sandwich into his fridge so that he could have it later in the evening. While he was eating, Rachael and Michaela started cleaning the living room, sorting the newspapers into bundles for recycling, and sweeping and dusting the entire living room. When they finished, it no longer looked like a hoarder lived here, but a respectable family.

M. Verdun had tears in his eyes as Bobby led him to his easy chair. “Darling children, you make an old man so happy. A home-cooked meal, and now my room as clean as it was when Marie was still with me.”

“Don’t cry, general,” Bobby said. “You said you were going to tell me some war stories.”

M. Verdun smiled in spite of his tears, and used a hankie to wipe them away. He started to speak, but Rachael stopped him by exclaiming “What are these?”

The old man looked up to see the case that she had found while dusting the bookshelf. “That is just something Marie made years ago to store some of my war trinkets.”

“War trinkets? These are medals. Are they all yours?”

“Yes, cheri. Everyone got medals in the war. Those are mine.”

“Oh, my God. Oh my God,” Rachael said in a near whisper. The center medal in the arrangement was a bronze cross with a lion standing on a crown. The words For Valour were beneath it. “This is a Victoria Cross, isn’t it?”

“Oui, cheri,” he said. “Some generals thought I did a good thing and gave me that. It was really just pretty much a mess up, like so much more of the war.”

Rachael found a newspaper clipping, fragile and yellowed after 75 years, and read it aloud so Mikki and Bobby could hear.

City man gets top honor

Sgt. Andre Verdun, Royal 22nd Regiment, was awarded a Victoria Cross in London by the King yesterday. The field dispatch said:

Sgt. Verdun was leading a company of soldiers after their captain and lieutenants were all killed or severely wounded. The company was pinned down by a pair of machine gun nests that left the group exposed. Sgt. Verdun left the group and crawled down a gully, and then came up on the first machine gun embankment, which he cleared with a grenade. He then worked his way over to the second embankment and cleared it with rifle fire, picking off the 12 men in it one at a time. As he was clearing the second placement, his company charged the hill, taking the position, and holding it to allow the rest of the division to proceed safely with no further casualties.

This is only the fifth Canadian to receive the Victoria Cross in the war, and the first ever by an Ingersoll native son. Sgt. Verdun returned to the front shortly after the ceremony.

“You really are a war hero,” Rachael said. “This medal proves it.”

“I knew he was a war hero,” Bobby exclaimed. “Did you really meet a King?”

“I did, but I don’t want you kids making too much of it. Bobby wanted a story. Do you all want to hear what really happened that day?”

“Yes please,” Rachael said, sitting down on the sofa. Mikki sat next to her while Bobby plopped down on the floor in front of his idol.

“I don’t think much of that medal because nine good men died that day, and more were injured, many badly. It is not a day I like to commemorate. It was probably my worst day in the entire war.”

“We were the lead company for the division, and our mission was to open up a route for the rest of the division to take towards Amiens, where we were to reinforce the divisions trying to take the city. We blundered into this valley between two hills, and didn’t know that the Krauts had a machine gun on either one.”

“Snipers took out the captain, and both lieutenants.”

“What’s a lef-ten-ant?” Bobby asked.

“That is what we call the men who help the captain,” M. Verdun explained. “You might hear the word loo-ten-ant sometimes. That is how the Americans say it. But anyway, there were four other sergeants there that had seniority over me, and one of them really should have become the leader. But I saw a low spot, and led my men into it, and everyone else followed. I guess that’s how I got to be leader.”

“We were there for maybe five minutes, and the machine guns were buzzing over our heads. A couple more guys bought it and I realized that grouped together the way we were we would get creamed if they started to toss grenades or use artillery on us. So I looked around and saw a place I thought we could get through.”

“I crawled over to it, thinking that the others would follow, but a machine gun burst just at that time got everyone looking the other way. I heard later that they thought I had just disappeared, or ran away.”

“I got to a fork in the gully, and if the men were with me I would have taken the left path, which would have gotten us behind the men. The right path would have gotten us off the battlefield entirely, but would have left the machine guns there for the rest of the division that was following us. Even though I was alone, I chose the left path, and got in behind the closest machine gun nest. The dispatches said that I cleared them with one grenade, but I actually used all four that I had, and still had to shoot two other Krauts.”

“Then I made my way over to the second nest, and found a nice high spot behind them looking down at them. I didn’t have any more grenades, although I really wished I had. So I set up under cover and started sniping. I killed five of them before they even noticed I was there, and then I got four more as they tried to turn their machine gun around at me. The last three were more work. I think it took about 15 minutes before I got the last one. I was shot three times. Here, here, and here.” He touched his left shoulder, right leg, and his left side. “They had to carry me out.”

“Anyway, some fools in the company bragged about the action and word got back to the division Colonel, who seemed impressed. I was just doing my job, and doing it badly since there were so many casualties. He didn’t seem to think so, and recommended me for a medal. Some generals wanted a Canadian VC, so that is the one I got. I did get to see the King, who pinned the medal on my tunic, although it was after three weeks in hospital trying to get strong enough to stand in front of him.”

“Wow,” Mikki said. “That is so cool. Who would think that a hero like you would be living in little old Ingersoll. Why hasn’t this been in the newspapers?”

“It was, many years ago,” M. Verdun said. “Marie used to be so proud when I wore my medal on Remembrance Day each year. But after she passed, I stopped going. It didn’t seem right to wear a medal that I got for saving my own butt when so many others didn’t get out.”

“But what you did saved so many more,” Rachael exclaimed. “You should be proud of what you did. If anything, you can consider that the medal was for all the men, and only your name got placed on it.”

“Ma petit cheri, you are so good to me,” he said. “I want you to take that medal. I was surprised that you knew what it was, for someone so young.”

“NO,” Rachael shouted. “I can’t take this. It is too valuable. It should go to your son, or your grandson. These medals are worth more than your entire house.”

“Marie and I never had little ones. She wasn’t able. I have nephews, but none of them are close. No doubt they will be interested in me when I die, and there is an estate to divide up, but I really don’t see any of them. They all have their own lives and an old uncle is not a part of them.”

“I wish you were my Grandpa,” Bobby said.

“Ah, but you have your own grandpas, don’t you?”

“Actually no,” Rachael explained. “My mom was still in high school when she had me, and my father felt trapped in the marriage. When Bobby was on the way he split, and we haven’t seen or heard from him since. His parents, my grandparents, didn’t want anything to do with us either.”

“But your mother’s parents?” M. Verdun asked.

“Not much better. Mom’s mom and stepdad were upset that she got pregnant before marriage, and kind of disowned us. We do get a Christmas card from Grandma every year with a few dollars in it, but Grandpa won’t allow us to even come to their house.”

M. Verdun looked at Bobby. “I would be honored to be your Grandpa, ma cheri.”

Bobby stood immediately and looked at the old soldier and then exploded into his arms, giving him a long and fierce hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” the boy said. “I have always wanted a Grandpa like the other boys have, and now I have one. I have the best Grandpa ever.”

M. Verdun and both girls had tears in the eyes. “Little hands around an old man mean so much,” he said. “Am I your Grandpa too, cheri?” he asked Rachael.

“Yes please,” Rachael said between sobs. “I would be honored to have you as a grandfather, real or adopted.”

The rest of the session did not see much more cleaning done. Bobby spent the entire time on his new grandfather’s lap, and it was clear that the old man was thrilled with that. Mikki and Rachael did get the kitchen ship shape, and made the downstairs bed with clean linens. The upstairs was not the hoarder’s mess the living room had been, but tidying it up was going to have to be put off for another day. At least M. Verdun would have a clean bed to sleep in.

After tearful farewells were made, Rachael and Mikki took Bobby home. Since Maria was not going to be home until after 7, Rachael made a quick dinner of hotdogs for Bobby after Mikki left. Then she got on the phone.

At 7 an exhausted Maria walked in the door. Bobby immediately ran up to her and told her about his new grandpa. She raised an eyebrow and then sat down for supper with Rachael: a feast she called the Hobo’s Casserole. It was hotdogs sliced into inch long pieces served in canned pork and beans, with grated cheese over the top. Bobby was sent up to have a bath while they ate.

“So what it this Grandpa thing?” Maria asked.

“Well, I told you about M. Verdun the other day?”

“The old soldier you have stopped and chatted with?”

“Yes. Well, his house was a real mess, so Mikki and I decided to spend the afternoon over there tidying it up for him. He really can’t afford a cleaning lady, and he is so good with Bobby. I just wanted to help him.”

“You are too sweet, Rachael,” Maria said.

“As we were cleaning up, we discovered that he really is a hero, like Bobby said. He has a Victoria Cross.”

“That is pretty good, isn’t it?”

“Yes. About as good as it gets. He took out two machine gun nests in the war, saving his men and lots of lives. The king gave him the medal. He was actually wounded three times.”

“So how does the ‘grandpa’ fit into this?”

“He wanted me to have his medals, and I said he should give them to a son or grandson. It turns out he never had children, and isn’t close to his nephews. That is when Bobby asked him if he could be his grandpa.”

“I explained how we don’t have grandparents, and I guess we pretty much agreed to adopt each other. Bobby was thrilled. Apparently the other boys all talk about their grandparents, and he never could join in.”

“Another way I failed my son,” Maria pouted.

“Stop it Mom. You are a great parent, and it is not your fault that we have shitty grandparents. Don’t make it about you. You are great, and neither Bobby or I would trade you for anyone. But I really would like to bring M. Verdun into the family.”

“So how would that work?” Maria asked.

“Well, he can’t move in, of course. And I don’t think he would want to. He likes his little house. I mean, that’s why he’s not in a retirement home, I guess. But he really loves Bobby. You should have seen his face when Bobby hugged him, or when he sat on his lap.”

“And I want to look after him. I took him soup and a sandwich. Do you know he was going to go all weekend with no food … other than some cereal?”

“So I want to invite him over for supper tomorrow, and make it a regular thing for Sunday dinners.”

“It is three or four blocks to his house, isn’t it? Can he walk that far?” Maria asked.

“No, he can’t, and that bothered me. I was wondering about a taxi, but then I thought about the Legion. I called up and told them about M. Verdun, and asked if they might have a volunteer driver. Right away they said yes, and someone will pick him up and bring him over at 6:30 tomorrow. I’m making a roast, so there will be lots of food. Bobby can entertain him while I am cooking it. He wants to show ‘Grandpa’ how well he can read.”

“It sounds like you have it all planned out, honey,” Maria said. “What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing Mom, except to say it is okay. I haven’t told him yet, but I’m sure he’ll come over. Are you okay with it?”

“It sounds wonderful dear. But it sounds like there is someone upstairs wanting to read some Harry Potter. Let me do the dishes just this once. There don’t seem to be many, and I think reading to your brother is one of the most important things you do in this house.”

After over an hour of Harry Potter, Bobby fell asleep. He had been active all morning, and Rachael hoped that the exercise was helping him. He was already much better at baseball, no longer shying away from the ball, and throwing accurately about half the time now.

Dear Lord

Thank you for all you do for me, and for this family. I hope you approve of my adding M. Verdun to our little family. I know he is one of your special chosen people, since you kept him alive in that horrible war, and brought him back intact. Please bless him, Mom, Mikki and her cute little brother, and of course my own cutie: Bobby. Amen.

A Second Chance -- Chapter 7

By Dawn Natelle

Sorry to have taken so long to get this out. It is hard for me to have two series going at one time. But now River is finished (although still at the editor) so I have no excuse not to get this one out quicker. At least weekly, although I am going to aim for two a week: Dawn.

SUNDAY, May 1, 2016

Bobbie really didn’t want to get up on Sunday morning, until Rachael told him that they were going to make breakfast to take to his new Grandpa. Then he was into the bathroom like a bomb had gone off.

Rachael again made French toast, something easy to carry, and had the first batch done by the time Bobby appeared in the Sunday clothes that Rachael had laid out for him. “Do you want to eat now? Or shall we take it to Grandpa’s and eat there with him?”

Bobby hesitated. He was hungry now, but he really wanted to eat with the old soldier. “How much longer?” he asked.

“I hear Momma getting dressed. I think we can all walk down to his house together. Momma hasn’t met him yet. Why don’t you pick out one of your books, and we can take it down so you can show him what a good reader you are.”

Maria was down just as the second batch of French Toast was done. Rachael handed her a cup of coffee, and then started packing her knapsack with the food. “I saw tea in his cupboard when we cleaned the kitchen,” she told her mother. “I’ll just pack some sugar and milk for it. I’m going to have to start buying groceries for him too.”

“He means this much to you, does he?” Maria asked.

“Yes Momma, he does. And he means more to Bobby, and Bobby means so much to me. Wait ‘til you meet him, Momma. He is so old and frail, and we owe him so very, very much.”

“Well then he means a lot to me too,” Maria said lovingly as Rachael shifted her bag onto her shoulder.

“Come on Bobby, we’re going,” Rachael said and before she turned around the little boy skipped out the door ahead of them.

It was only a couple of minutes to walk the few blocks to his house, with Bobby singing “We’re going to Grandpa’s house, Grandpa’s house.”

“I hope we aren’t too early,” Maria said. “It would be a shame to get him out of bed.”

“No he said he gets up at dawn,” Rachael said. “Look, he is out on his step already.”

“Bonjour, bonjour,” the beaming veteran said. “Company so early in the morning.”

Bobby ran up to hug the old man’s legs. “We brought breakfast, Grandpa,” he sang out. “Are you hungry? I’m hungry. Did you get hungry during the war, Grandpa?”

“Yes Bobby we did, but we had a job to do. And after we met the people in Holland, we never complained about being hungry again. The Nazis pretty much starved the people there. It was so sad.” He slowly rose and opened the door. “So what surprises has my wonderful new granddaughter brought? Other than her older sister, I guess. Do you want to be my granddaughter too?”

“No sir,” Maria said. “I am the mother of these two, but I guess if you want to you can adopt me as a daughter.”

“A daughter?” the man choked up a bit. “My Marie so very much wanted a daughter. And you must be a fine woman, to raise such special children as these two. They make my life worth living again, so see their smiling faces, and to hear their laughter. You must be very proud.”

“Come. Sit, Grandpa, Bobby wants to show you how well he can read now,” Rachael said. “Momma and I will make some tea for your breakfast. I hope you like French Toast?”

“I do, sweetheart,” he said as he and Bobby nestled into his recliner and the boy started to read.

Five minutes later the breakfast was ready, and Bobby proudly helped his Grandpa out of his recliner and into a chair at the table. After a short prayer, where Rachael made sure to remember the veterans, they started eating. Rachael told him that they were going to church later in the morning, and then visiting Michaela after lunch.

“But I did pack another nice sandwich for you,” she told the old man. “It is in the fridge. Don’t wait too long to eat it, we have dinner plans for you tonight.”

“You are all coming back tonight?” he said, with tears in his eyes. “This is too much.”

“No Grandpa,” Bobby squealed. “We want you to come to our house for dinner.”

“Oh son, I wish I could. But I can’t walk very well, and …”

“No need to walk,” Maria said. “Rachael called the Legion, and they were most happy to send a volunteer over to drive you. And they will drive you home as well. I would be honored to have you visit my house, tiny as it is. But it will be Rachael who is the cook and hostess. I am working from just after church until just before we eat. She is doing everything.”

It took a few seconds for the old soldier to compose himself. “I would be honored to visit. I don’t think I have been out of the house socially for years. Doctor’s visits and hospital tests, yes. But never to dinner. When? And should I dress up? I still have a uniform that fits.”

“No Grandpa,” Rachael said. “Come as you are. This is just the four of us. Our little family. The driver will come at 6:30 tonight, so if you can be ready for then.”

They spent about an hour with him, with Bobby reading for him, and then listening to his stories of his days in France, and both before and after here in Ingersoll. Maria got a chance to see how intently Bobby listened to the old man, and how his eyes shone with respect and admiration. After Rachael and Maria had cleaned the kitchen, leaving another pot of tea ready for him to heat in the microwave when he awoke from his morning nap, they left the tired, but pleased man and headed off to church.

It was about a five-block walk back to the house, where they stopped in for a moment so that Rachael could drop off her bag, and Maria could pick up one with her uniform for work. She had a friend coming by the church to pick her up, and she would change at work. Bobby also had slopped syrup on his shirt, so that was quickly changed. Rachael also ran a wash cloth over his sticky face, getting him clean for church.

Ten minutes later they walked into the church and easily found an open pew. The church was slightly less than a quarter full, with a broad range of patrons. There were a lot of older people, along with a few families with younger children. A greeter at the door had told Maria that there was a Sunday School downstairs that Bobby could attend. Rachael was also invited to the youth group, but she said she wanted to hear the sermon.

There was a small choir of six women who led the congregation in singing hymns to open the service. Rachael knew many of the songs from her prior life, and discovered that in this one she had a fine singing voice, clear and high soprano. Maria joined in, and the two voices harmonized perfectly. Bobby was also a soprano, but not able to hold key very well, but made up for lack of range with his enthusiasm as he sang the words he could read in the hymnal.

The minister came in and greeted the congregation. Rachael noted that he appeared to recognize their new faces in the group. Rev. Thomas McNaughton, according to the sign at the front of the church, was an elderly man, overweight but not obese, with only a small collar of white hair from one ear to the other. He did have a powerful voice and his welcome to the congregation seemed sincere.

He then invited the children to go down to Sunday School, and many got up to do so. Bobby was reluctant, but Rachael accompanied him down and turned him over to a lady who would be his teacher. She then headed back to the main church and slipped into the pew next to her mother, taking her hand.

The sermon was “Navigating the Waves” and was about the church adapting to changing times and the difficulty Christians faced in an increasingly un-Christian world. It was based on Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, and while Rachael didn’t know that chapter of the Bible well, she was pleased at the moderate tone of the sermon.

Near the end of the service, the Sunday School classes rejoined the congregation as the minister was finishing up with announcements and church news. He noted that the church caretaker of the past 25 years was retiring, and asked that anyone who knew of a good replacement to let him or the deacon know.

There was another series of hymns to close the service, and the Cartright family joined in happily. A collection plate was sent around, and Maria and Rachael each dropped in a toonie, and Bobby dropped in a loonie.

After the service ended the three were thanked for attending by the minister. He again mistook Maria for the older sister, and asked the group if their parents were also going to attend services.

“This is my mother, not my sister,” Rachael said. “We don’t have a father.”

“Oh,” the minister said curtly. “A single mother. I see. Well, we welcome all types to our church.” He then turned to greet other parishioners, an elderly couple.

“That was a little rude,” Rachael said. “After a sermon about moving ahead with the times, and then treating you like you were some kind of dirt on his shoes.”

Maria giggled. “Don’t be upset. I’m sure he didn’t mean it that way. “Oh, look. There’s my ride. Are you two okay?”

“We’re fine, Momma. Don’t worry about us. Go get some good tips today.”

Maria hustled off to the waiting car and her two children walked hand in hand home.

“How was Sunday School,” Rachael asked Bobby.

“It was fun,” the boy said. “I met some new kids, and there were some from my school too. We learned about Jesus and the fishes. How did he do that, Rachael?”

“I don’t know. They say it is a miracle. Miracles can happen,” the girl said, noting just how her own case proved that.

“I wish I could do a miracle,” Bobby said. “I’d do a miracle where I could eat hundreds and hundreds of cookies from just one.”

“Well, to be a Christian miracle, you would want to share your cookies with everyone else, not eat them yourself.”

“Hmm. I like cookies. How about if I shared, and only ate some?”

Rachael broke out laughing. “We have about a half hour before we head to Mikki’s. How about we bake some cookies to take to them, and share those?”

“Do I get some?”

“If you are good. I want you to switch into play clothes, and I’ll make you a sandwich for lunch.”

“Goody, goody.”

Almost an hour later the two were approaching Michaela’s house. Rachael had to check twice on the address she had written down. The house was massive. The garage, with its three doors open, looked larger than their entire house.

The front door opened, and Mikki poked her head out. “You’re here. You really came.”

“Hi BFF,” Rachael said. “You didn’t tell me you lived in a mansion. This place is huge.”

“Yeah, I guess it is big. It is a lot bigger than the house we had in Toronto. That’s why we moved, I guess. We sold the house there, and were able to buy this one, and pay off the mortgage. It means Dad has to drive to Toronto a lot, and he stays overnight in a room there for a couple days each week. He also works from here on Monday and Fridays.”

Mikki gave them a tour of the house. Her bedroom was huge. They poked their head into a neat room. This is Danny’s room. Rachael noted that the bed, neatly made, was covered in stuffed animals. What Bobby saw was a PlayStation. “Look Rachael, he has a PlayStation!”

“Do you want to play?” Mikki asked. “Let’s go downstairs and see if we can find him.”

As they walked down, Mikki pointed out the other rooms. Her older brother Kyle had a closed door with a scrawled “Keep Out” sign on it. They also didn’t go into her parents’ suite, or the rooms that were her Dad’s office or her Mom’s office. There was also a guest bedroom.

Downstairs they found Danny, getting his pretty hair combed out by his mother.

“Hi Mrs. Stoner,” Rachael said. “I brought cookies.”

“Cookies?” Danny’s head popped around, and Rachael was amazed at how blue the boy’s eyes were, and how pretty he looked. If she didn’t know he was a boy, she would have sworn he was a girl.

“One cookie each,” Mrs. Stoner said. “I don’t want you kids spoiling your dinner. Are you and Bobby able to stay for supper?” she asked Rachael.

“No. But thanks for asking. We can only stay for a couple hours. I have to start the roast for tonight then. We are having company over.”

“I can’t believe someone your age cooks,” Mrs. Stoner said. “I don’t even attempt a roast very often.”

“Danny, why don’t you take Bobby up to your room,” Mikki said. “He is interested in your PlayStation.” Both boys ran off, nibbling on a cookie as they went.

“This is awesome,” Mikki said as she bit into her cookie. Her mother took a bite of one, and then agreed. “Isn’t the cook having one?”

“No, I’m trying to lose weight,” Rachael said.

Michaela stopped eating. “Maybe I shouldn’t as well.” Then she took another big bite. “But they are so good. And I lost three pounds this week,” she beamed. “I deserve one cookie.”

“One cookie is not a problem,” Mrs. Stoner said. “It is a whole bag at a time, when you are depressed. Luckily Kayla hasn’t been down like that this week. And she is even making salads for the family, although it is pretty much her and I enjoying them. Bob eats them, grudgingly, since Kayla made it. He can stand to lose some weight with all the driving he has been doing.”

It took a minute for Rachael to understand who ‘Kayla’ was, when she remembered that was the nickname for Michaela that the family used. She would have to remember not to call her Mikki here.

“What do you girls have planned for today,” Mrs. Stoner asked.

“Well,” Mikki said with a grin, “we are hoping we can plan a sleepover.”

“A sleepover? How fun. How many girls?”

“We don’t know yet. I hope we can get six.”

“That sounds doable. Where will you have it?”

“I was thinking about the studio,” Mikki said. “Do you think Dad would let us?”

“He is down there now. Let’s go see.”

They headed down to the basement, which included a room that was nearly half the square footage of the house. At one end there were cameras on tripods and professional looking lights that seemed to have umbrellas attached. Mr. Stoner was there, working on a Macintosh computer with the largest screen Rachael had ever seen.

“Bob, the girls are interested in having a sleepover next weekend,” Mrs. Stoner said. “They want to use the studio.”

“Well, I guess. If Kayla will put everything away. I don’t want the girls knocking over the cameras, or lights. She knows how to do everything. I can live without my studio for one night.”

“Wait,” Rachael said. “You mean Mikki … I mean Kayla, knows how to use all of this stuff?”

“She does,” Mr. Stoner says proudly. “She is almost as good as me with it. I’m hoping to do some weddings this summer, and she will be my second shooter.”

“She is better than he is at retouching,” Mrs. Stoner said with a smile. “But he doesn’t like to admit it. The student surpassing the teacher kind of thing. But what did you just call her? Mikki?”

“Sorry,” Rachael said. “That is the nickname I gave her. I didn’t even think of Kayla. That’s what I have been calling her.”

“I like Mikki,” Mikki said. “Kayla is okay, but I want the girls at the school to think of me as Mikki. Kayla is a fat boring, depressed little girl. Mikki is a skinny, vibrant, cool kid … or she will be.”

“No problem here,” Mr. Stoner said.

“Daddy, can you take a picture of Rach and me? A ‘best friends’ portrait?”

“BFF. That would make a good section for my portfolio. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop working at the brokerage, and shoot full time, but I can always hope.”

For the next half hour the girls posed in front of several of the lights, and when they were done there were dozens of pictures on the computer monitor to choose from. To Rachael they all looked perfect, but Mikki pointed out flaws in half of them. “This one: my hair is over my eyes too much, and here my face looks fat. There is a shadow on your nose here. But a lot of them are good. Can I do the post on them, Dad?”

“No problem, since your Mom thinks you are the expert at it.”

“Post?” Rachael asked.

“Post production,” Mikki explained. “It means taking the picture and using Photoshop to hide any little imperfections or errors. I will be making my face look thinner, for one thing. I’ve gotten really good with that.”

Suddenly Rachael had a brainstorm. “You know what would be so neat? If the sleepover was a photoshoot? All the girls could be models, and dress up, and have makeup done, and then Mikki would shoot us, and we’d get pictures done.”

“That sounds so fun,” Mrs. Stoner said. “Bob?”

“If she uses her own camera, and all mine are packed away in the closet. And only the oldest two lights.”

“Three,” Mikki begged.

“Okay,” he relented. “But keep the good ones packed up. And you do all the post on all the pictures.”

“Deal!”

“Come on girls,” Mrs. Stoner said, sounding almost as excited as Mikki was. “I’ve got some ideas too.”

They followed her upstairs. And then up another stairs into the attic.

“What’s up here?” Mikki asked.

“Your aunt Susan’s stuff,” Mrs. Stoner said. She turned to Rachael to explain. “My older sister had cancer, and passed on three years ago. She battled it a long time. Susan was a real free spirit, and when she left us I just couldn’t bear to throw away her stuff. It is all up here. I think this is the perfect time to use it. Susan could never turn down a party, and if you use her stuff, it will be like she is back at the party. She would love that.”

It turned out that there were several dozen different outfits in storage, ranging from the pedestrian to the outrageous. Apparently Susan had been involved in cosplay, and had several outfits from conventions. There were cosplay wigs, as well as real ones that the woman had worn when cancer had taken her hair. They were of different lengths and colors, since Susan liked to be able to shock people with a change of appearance.

“What is this,” Mikki asked, holding up a beige blob.

“Oh my goodness,” Mrs. Stoner said with a smile. “That my dear, is your aunt’s left breast. Is the other one in there?”

“There are a bunch of them,” Mikki said. Apparently Susan had lost both her breasts several years before her final cancer, and had purchased several sets of replacements. Mikki handed the two biggest ones to Rachael. “Here, try these on.”

Rachael didn’t know what to do at first, then held the prosthesis up to her chest. “That’s what you will look like if you grow as big as your Mom,” Mikki said.

“No way.” Rachel was astounded at how different she looked. There was this huge difference to her chest as she looked down at the flesh-colored mounds. Maybe she didn’t want her mother’s figure after all.

“This could be the most fun sleepover in history,” Mrs. Stoner said. “I wish I was 13 again so I could come.”

They continued to explore, and found more things. There was a huge collection of bras, in different sizes to accommodate the different breast forms. There were some outrageous hats, and shoes, all in size eight, ranging from sneakers to stiletto heels five inches high. “I wear a size 10,” Mrs. Stoner said. “You can have some of my old heels if there are any girls who can’t fit into an 8. But I don’t have anything like those stripper heels.”

They went downstairs, making plans as they went. Rachael was surprised to see that it was nearly time to go. She had to wait a few minutes for Bobby to finish up the racing game he was playing on the PlayStation, and then they headed back home. As she waited she realized that a super cool sleepover could make Michaela a star at school.

At home Bobby got his books together and read them again as Rachael started dinner. The roast had been marinating all night, and just had to be popped into the oven. Carrots and potatoes were added to the pot shortly thereafter, and Rachael also made a tray of cookies, using the last of the premade dough, so that Bobby could have some for school on Monday (and to keep him out of the kitchen while she was busy, with the promise of a cookie once they cooled). It was gone into the bottomless pit before she managed to get her tray of biscuits into the oven.

While things were cooking, they tried to read Harry Potter, but it was difficult with Rachael having to pop up every few minutes to check the oven. She came back to discover that Bobby had continued to read, sounding out the words himself. He was only able to read a sentence or two every time she left, but he was quite proud to be reading a ‘grown-up book’ by himself.

Finally Bobby helped her make a salad, which was just finished when Rachael heard the unusual sound of a car in their drive. An elderly man, about the age that Ron had been, was helping M. Verdun up the steps. She guided him to the best chair, the reading chair, and then thanked the man who had delivered Bobby’s Grandpa to him.

“Thanks for doing this,” Rachael said. “Would you like to stay for dinner? We are having roast beef.”

“I can tell by the smell,” the man said. “It is tempting, but I just finished dinner at home, and my wife would kill me if she found out that I ate two dinners.”

“Well, here, at least you can take a biscuit. These are still warm out of the oven. A little butter on top.”

“Thanks,” the man said as he took a bite of the warm biscuit. “You know there was a contest to see who could drive Sgt. Verdun today. I won. Once the other boys find out the treat I got, they’ll all be jealous. Ron Brown will be by at 8 to pick the sergeant up.”

“Well, maybe next time you’ll be able to stay. We hope to be able to bring him over for dinner every Sunday.”

“Really? The boys will be glad to hear it. Everyone wanted to help out. We’ll all get a chance then.”

“He’s a nice young man,” M. Verdun said, leaving Rachael amazed at the concept of a retired man being considered young.

Just then Maria entered, blasted by the aroma of a roast just out of the oven, warm biscuits, and the sight of her son sitting on M. Verdun’s lap, reading to him. She thought back to this time last week, where she and Rachael had been in a raging fight over whose turn it was to do dishes. The tired waitress thanked God over the change in her daughter, and in her life.

“I made sallid,” Bobby said, helping the old man out of the chair. “Do you like sallid, Grandpa?”

“I do like salad,” he replied. “Although by the smells coming out of that kitchen I think there is a lot I will like tonight.”

The four sat around the tiny table, and linked hands. Rachael led the prayer, thanking God for bringing them all together, and hopes that they will have many more chances to do this. She remembered the veterans and asked Grandpa to name three of the ones who did not come back.

“That is a lovely blessing,” Maria said. “If you can give three more names next week, that would be nice.”

“Next week? Do you mean you plan to do this for me every week?”

“Whenever we can,” Rachael said. “You are part of our family now.”

“My family,” he stopped, choked up. “Marie would have loved this.”

“Do you pray to her?” Rachael said. “You should. Tell her all about this. About us. She will love to hear it.”

“I will, I will.”

“Now tell me if this roast is any good,” Rachael plated a dish for the old man, then Bobby, and then her mother before helping herself. There looked as though there would be roast left over for sandwiches next week.

Bobby was the first to pass judgment on the meal. “Best dinner ever,” he announced.

“I have to agree,” M. Verdun said. “And I’ve had more dinners over the years than the rest of you combined. It makes me feel young again, eating like this. Having such fine company for dinner.”

“Well, they say you are only as young as you feel,” Maria said. “I know I feel blessed to have a daughter who cares so much, and who looks after her brother so well.”

They had a nice hour after dinner visiting, with the old man reveling in having an avid audience for his stories. All too soon the sound of a car on the drive came again, and another ‘young’ retiree came by to pick up the old veteran. Rachael insisted on accompanying him home.

She thanked the driver for the ride after they had gotten the man to his door. She then helped M. Verdun into his house, and then to his bedroom at the back. She unbuttoned his shirt for him, and helped get it off, and then unbuckled his belt, but going no further to allow him his modesty. She then left, wondering what it would be like walking home in the dark.

When she got out the door she discovered that she needn’t worry. The man from the Legion was there waiting. “You didn’t need to wait,” she said.

“There is no way I would let a girl your age walk home at this time of night,” the man said. “I have a granddaughter your age. I would hate for her to be out alone at night.”

Rachael was soon back at home. Bobby was already in the bathtub, after Maria had promised him more Harry Potter when Rachael got back. Maria had finished the dishes, and was making sandwiches for lunches. Bobby got his traditional jam sandwich (and a cookie), but Rachael made herself a roast beef sandwich.

Rachael gathered up Bobby’s books, and put them into her book bag. She had another week on the Harry Potter, and figured they would be able to finish it by next Monday. But Bobby would be able to select another five kids’ books to read from.

Then there was a little voice from the top of the stairs. “Rachael. Can you read to me?”

“I would love to sweetheart. How about Momma come up and join us?”

“Goody, goody,” he said, running to his bed.

So there were the three of them sprawled across Bobby’s child’s bed as Rachael and Maria took turns reading to the little lad sandwiched between them. Rachael was about to turn the reading over to Maria, when she noticed that Bobby was asleep. She went to comment about it to her mother, when she noticed that Maria was also asleep. She pulled a quilt over her sleeping mother, and then padded off to her own bed.

Dear Lord

Thank you for this life. It is so much better than my old one. I feel so loved. M. Verdun, my new grandfather, my sweet mother, Bobby, Mikki, the men from the Legion who are so helpful. I know I was put here to help others, but I feel that I am the one who is benefitting from all of it. Again, let me know if I need to do more, and I will try.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Alert: I want to warn readers that this story goes back into dark places in the first half. If you have triggers related to suicide, then you might want to avoid this, or steel yourself a bit. It is essential to the story, though. (The trigger area is between asterisks, so you can skip it if you prefer). Dawn.

MONDAY, May 2, 2016

In the bus on Monday morning Rachael walked past her normal seat and sat down in the second last row, politely asking the boy sitting there if she could have the seats for this one day only. He seemed confused by the request, but got up and moved forward, unsure of what had just happened.

Rachael said ‘hi’ to the three girls in the back row, and when they questioned her about the change in seating, she said they should wait until Mikki arrived. At her stop, Mikki was confused not to find Rachael in their normal seats. Then she saw her waving from the back of the bus and headed there. Only then did Rachael turned around and tell Carly: “Mikki is having a sleepover on Friday, and we wanted to ask you three if you would like to come.”

Layla sneered: “A sleepover, with you? I think I have to wash my hair that night.”

Carly ignored the dig by her friend. “That could be cool, what will we be doing? Just movies and makeup and stuff?”

“No,” an excited Michaela said. “We are going to do a fashion model shoot. My Dad is a photographer, and has all kinds of pro equipment we can use. We have costumes, and wigs, and super high heels. Oh, Rachael, I brought you a copy of the picture Dad took of us on Sunday.” She opened an envelope to show an 8x10 of the girls in a BFF pose.

“That is really awesome,” Carly said, admiring the photo. “It really looks professional. Will the shots from the sleepover be this good? Will your Dad be there? ‘Cause that would be a major downer.”

“No,” Rachael said. “Mikki is a really good photographer too, and she will take the pictures. We will need to get someone to do makeup that is really good to help with that. I’m going to make pizzas and cookies and we will have a blast.”

“It sounds exciting,” Carly said, “Count me in.” Both her friends agreed, even Layla who now thought that she might wash her hair on another night. The five chatted together until the bus got to the school. “You guys should have lunch at our table today,” Carly said, causing Mikki’s eyes to widen.

“That would be cool, but I have to sit with the boys today. Maybe Janice Schlepper would take my spot. We haven’t asked her yet, but we hope she will come. You all can explain the deal to her. I have something to do at lunch, or I would join in.”

In the excitement of the planning, Rachael’s opting out of a lunch at the cool kids table was not commented on, although Mikki did quiz her about it as they walked to their first class. “I just have some research to do in the library after having a quick lunch,” Rachael said. “And it gives you a chance to shine with all your new friends.”

“Do you really think they want to be friends with … me? I mean, not just for the party?”

“Sure they do. Just remember me when you get up with the cool kids.”

“No way Rach,” Mikki said, her face turning somber. “You are my first friend, and you will be my last friend. You know what the second F means.”

“The what?”

“The second F in BFF. ‘Forever’,” Mikki said.

“Oh, that,” Rachael laughed. “Yes, BFF.”

At lunch the boys did comment on the absence of the other two girls. Robert seemed happy that Rachael did show up, but Tony was a little sad to see Mikki over at the cool kids table. “She will be back,” Rachael encouraged him.

She spent most of her short lunch chatting with Robert, asking him about his family.

“We live on a farm just outside of town, about 10 minutes away. It kinda sucks, because I have to take the bus all the time, and can’t stay for sports or other things after school.”

“What kind of farm?”

“Dairy. We have about 100 head, so there are a lot of chores I have to do. Do you like farms?”

Rachael smiled. She couldn’t tell him that she had lived on a farm for over 30 years, while Ron was a veterinarian. His was a hobby farm, with most of the land rented out to working farmers. He did have a few animals, usually given to him by the farmers in payment for vet bills. A calf or two every spring kept the freezer in the basement full of meat when he was butchered in the fall. “I love horses,” Rachael said. “Do you have any?”

“Oh yeah, all of us boys have horses, and little Lisa, she’s 8, has a pony.”

“Wow, I wish I could ride again. I really love it,” Rachael said.

“Maybe you can come out to the farm one day,” Rob said. “If you were there I could probably get out of some chores, due to having company.”

“Or I could help you with your chores. I am a pretty good cowgirl, you know. Look, I’d love to chat through the rest of lunch, but I’ve got something to do at the library. See you later?”

“Bye-bye,” Robert said and as she walked away she could hear the other boys teasing him ‘for having a girlfriend.’

In the library Rachael went to the computer and started searching. She was looking into transsexualism. Danny was on her mind, and she wanted to look up some resources to give to his (or her?) mother.

She was glad to see that there was no parental protection on the computers. She quickly found some resources, and started copying links to a memory stick she had borrowed from Mikki.

Ron, over 20 years ago, had a nephew named Earl. When Ron’s wife had succumbed to cancer, his sister Susan, Earl’s mom, had sent the then 11-year-old out to spend the summer on his uncles’ farm. Earl was not a boyish boy, preferring cooking and baking with his mom to working on cars with his dad. He detested sports, but loved taking long rides on his bike.

He took to the farm well. As Susan had predicted, the visit was good for both of them. Ron was still mourning his late wife, and Earl positively blossomed on the farm. He had longish hair for a boy, and tended to wear unisex clothes. Ron took him on many of his vet calls, and Earl had an affinity for animals, and by the end of the summer announced that he too would be a vet one day.

About half the time Ron’s farmer clients mistook the frail-looking boy for a girl, and Earl never complained, although Ron always corrected the mistake. It was in late August when Ron came back from a call that Earl hadn’t come to, since it involved a rather dangerous bull. The call had gone badly, and the animal had to be put down, so what was expected to be a five-hour call only took a half hour.

Ron walked into his house and found Earl wearing an old cotton dress, watching Gilmore Girls on TV, loud enough that he hadn’t heard Ron drive in. He immediately panicked, and ran to his room, sobbing. Ron couldn’t get in to talk to him, so instead went back to his old college Psychology textbook and tried to read up on what was then called Abnormal Sexual Practices. It talked about the differences between transsexual and transvestite behaviors.

It was several hours later when hunger overcame shame that Earl came out, now dressed in his boy clothes. After a quiet meal, the two had a long talk. That was when Ron learned about Emily, his ‘niece.’ Emily felt she had always been a girl, and had spoken to her mother about the problem on occasion. She knew that speaking with her father about it would drive him ballistic. Roger was a macho-man and would take girlish behavior by his son as a personal insult. And he dealt with insults with violence.

Ron told Emily that she could be whoever she wanted with him, and he was amazed to see the girl’s eyes light up. And they were girl eyes, Ron realized, trapped inside a boy’s body. For the rest of the summer, less than two weeks, Emily accompanied Ron on many of his rounds, and was no longer mistaken as a boy. She tended to wear dresses, and Ron gave her permission to wear anything of his petite late wife’s clothes that fit her.

September came, and Susan decided that it had been a success. Her son seemed happier than he had been in years, and looking after the child had helped Ron with his grief. Ron sat down with Susan, and for two hours discussed the past weeks, and why Earl seemed in better spirits. Susan felt for her son, but her empathy was clouded by fear of her husband, and what he might do if he found out. Emily met her mother for a few minutes, but agreed that she would have to pretend to be Earl for the rest of the year. If she did that, then she would be allowed to come back the following summer.

Ron received a letter about once a month. It was simply signed E, in a girlish hand. It told of the anguish and pain Emily felt, living a lie. Ron had to be careful writing back, always aware that Emily’s father might see the letter. But he was able to cloak his comments in a way that Emily understood what he was saying, without it being explicit. The following summer she told him that his letters, and the chance to come back to the farm, were the only things that kept her going at times.

Emily came to the farm for three more summers. The last one, when she was 15, was difficult. She was hitting puberty, and no longer passed so easily between the genders. When Susan picked her up that summer Ron begged his sister to get Emily on hormones. Susan reluctantly agreed to talk with her husband about it.

It was at Earl’s funeral that fall that Ron found out what had happened. Susan had approached Roger about the problem and, as predicted, he had gone ballistic. He had beat Earl, and he had beat Susan as well. He even threatened to beat Ron once he next saw him.

Roger had been in jail and Susan in the hospital when Earl’s older brother came home to find Emily, dressed in Susan’s clothing, hanging from a rafter in the garage. Her parents were both released to attend the funeral. Emily had left a long tear-stained note, begging that she be buried in the dress. But, the funeral director took Roger’s direction and instead she was buried in a cheap male suit.

Susan left Roger soon after. She had loved him once, but blamed him for the loss of her daughter/son. Now it was her turn to move to Ron’s farm. Her older son stayed with his dad, once his two months in jail were over. This time it was Ron’s turn to be grief counselor for his sister. It took five and a half years for Susan to mend her broken heart; thanks to the support Ron gave her, finally meeting a nice older man, and remarrying. She never sought to have any more children.

Rachael teared up remembering her laughing, joyful niece from those summer days on the farm. Emily had so much to live for, a life as a vet, squashed by the rage and hatred her father had spewed. It was different now, but would Danny’s father react the way that Roger had? The Internet made finding resources much easier than using a 12-year-old textbook had been, and the topic was treated much more sensitively these days.

Rachael wiped her eyes and tucked away the memory stick. She intended to give it to Mrs. Stoner sometime: probably not until after the excitement of the sleepover. And she wanted to talk to Danny alone some time, if she could. Perhaps it was just his physical appearance that was leading her to think he might be trans. She needed to talk to him, to see if he felt the same way as Emily had.

Rachael was called to the office before the last class. She wondered what trouble she might be in. Mrs. Deboer called her in quickly.

“You were on the Internet during lunch today?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. We don’t have a computer at home,” Rachael said.

“You may not know it, but we have a setup that does not restrict students from any sites. But it does track the usage of all computers, and the librarian found that you were on some adult sites. She could see that you seemed to be seeking textual information, and not photographs, so she didn’t approach you. But she did alert me about the content you were searching. Is there anything you would like to tell me?”

“No ma’am.”

“I understand quite a bit about transsexualism: it was something covered in my Master’s program. To put it bluntly, do you feel gender dysphoria? That means feeling that your body does not match your personal identity. That seems to fit in with some of your recent actions.”

Rachael finally got it. The principal thought she was transsexual, and that was why she had attempted suicide. Actually, it was quite the other way around. The Ron in her had adapted to her new, younger female body quite smoothly, even though one might had thought some gender dysphoria would be natural. But somehow, when he was inserted into Rachael, none of those problems occurred, thankfully. It was the change in height, not sex, that Ron/Rachael had been bothered by the most.

“No, Mrs. Deboer. It is nothing like that. One of my friends, has a brother, or sister perhaps, that might have that problem. I had a cousin who … died after suffering through the same thing. I was hoping that I could find some information I knew of that I could pass on to his mother, so that she could seek out help for him.”

“This child. Is he or she in this school?”

“No ma’am. She is in Grade 1.”

“That is rather young for dealing with gender identity issues.”

“Yes, but my cousin went through many years of pain before … the end. I am hoping to save this person from the same thing.”

“Well, you seem to be going about it in the right way, providing accurate information to the carer. That is all. Let me know if there is anything I can do to help. In fact, if you discover that this might be an issue, let me know anyway. I will offer my help to the principal over in the elementary school. Look, class is almost over, so I will write a covering note to your teacher to cover your absence. There is no sense going in with only 10 minutes remaining.”

Mikki caught her at her locker after the last bell, announcing that she wanted to take the bus home, so she could gossip with the girls. Rachael encouraged her, telling her that she had Bobby to take, so they would be walking.

Bobby was in a good mood as they walked to the stores. They had to make a call into the library, where he returned his books and there he planted himself in the children’s section to find new books to take home.

“I really like your library,” Rachael said to the elderly librarian.

“Yes, it is nice, with mostly new stuff. A lot of the books are cycled in from the main branch downtown, but all the computers and fixtures are new. There was a movement by the staff downtown to get the new gear, and leave us with their recycled older bits, but when they worked it out that would have meant closing the main branch down for a week to do a changeover. It was easier just to bring the new things here.”

“Well I like the setup. The children’s area is perfect for the youngsters, and I know I will want to use the reference area if I need a computer to do my homework. Are you open late ever?”

“We open until 9 p.m. on Thursday nights. As well as downstairs we have meeting rooms upstairs, and an office. Most of the other units in this building have apartments, but the city made different use of the space for us. So far the meeting rooms haven’t gotten much use, but we have only been open for just over a year.”

“Can I see upstairs?” Rachael asked.

“Certainly. It isn’t busy down here. I’ll take you us while Heather watches the desk.”

The three rooms upstairs ranged from a small one that would hold four people, perfect for a few kids working together on a project. A larger room would hold 10 to 14 people around a board table. The largest room would hold 24 people when set up as it was in an auditorium type of setting, facing a large screen fed by a multimedia computer. Rachael immediately had an idea.

“Does the library have movies on CD or DVD?” she asked.

“We have older movies on DVD,” the librarian said. “Nothing too recent, I guess. We didn’t want to compete with the video stores when the program was set up 10 years ago, and now mostly people have Netflicks. What are you thinking of?”

“Old classics, like Casablanca, West Side Story, Sound of Music,” Rachael said.

“Oh yes, there is a large collection of that type of thing. What are you thinking about?”

“Well, at 13 we kids are too young to date, and most of the movies at the theatre are rated restricted. But if we could have a movie night once a week, it would be a little like dating-lite. We’d be in a big group, in a safe place. I mean, what parent would object to their child going to a library. And with a 9 p.m. end time, it isn’t too late for a school night. And it would give us kids somewhere social to go each week.”

“I think that is a wonderful idea,” the librarian said. “It fits right into our service mandate goals. Let me know when you want the room. As I said, right now they aren’t being used much.”

“What about popcorn or snacks?” Rachael asked.

The librarian frowned. “Because we are giving you the room for free, then we can’t spend a lot of money setting it up, or cleaning up after you.”

“Is there a vacuum cleaner? We could clean up after we finish, and put the chairs back the way they are now.”

The librarian agreed to try popcorn and snacks once, and showed Rachael where the cleaning closet was located. The vacuum was a large, industrial model, but seemed simple to use.

They headed back downstairs, to find Bobby still picking books. Already he had a stack of at least 12 piled next to him. “Come on Tiger,” she said. “Pick five and let’s go. You can get the others another time.”

“Oooh, I didn’t think of that. That makes picking them easier.” He quickly picked five and took them carefully up to the counter to have the librarian scan them out. They went into his book bag, as Rachael would be using hers for groceries.

They stopped into Dasilva’s, where Bobby got his apple, and Rachel picked up some cold cuts and salad fixings. Then they were off to the Bread Baron, when Rachael bought two loaves of the nice bread.

For the walk to their new Grandfather’s Bobby was skipping and dancing about, a far cry from last week when he could barely trudge along. Just a few days of exercise and healthy eating had already had an effect on his stamina.

M. Verdun was on the porch, and saw them coming a half block away. Rachael was sure she could see the smile on his face even from that distance. When they got close enough, she let Bobby loose to run up to the old man and give him a hug.

“You two chat out here for a bit,” Rachael said as she went into the house. She went to the kitchen and opened one loaf of bread, and took half the loaf out, 10 slices. She then opened the sliced meat, and made up five sandwiches, wrapping them individually in plastic wrap, and popped them into the fridge. Now the old man would have a ready meal each evening. She would check on them each day, and see when he needed a new batch. She wrapped the remaining half loaf, and put it in the fridge as well. It would keep until the next batch of sandwiches was needed.

She took the remaining cold cuts, and put them back into her bag. Each package had only one or two slices gone, and the remaining meat would spoil if she left it here. But at her house it could be used for lunches. She went back out to the porch, where Bobby was racing around the yard in the old helmet, reliving the story the old man had just told him.

“I made you some sandwiches for dinner,” she said. “They are in the fridge. Just put one on a plate, and pop it in the microwave for five seconds to take off the chill. There are enough there for a few days, and then I will stock you up again.”

“But, but … I must give you some money,” he said. “You needn’t buy me groceries.”

“You are my grandpa now,” Rachael said. “I have the right to spoil you. It is in the contract. On Saturday I will go shopping at the store, and before then I want you to make a list of the things you need. You can pay me for that stuff. Sandwiches are free, made with love.”

“You are too kind to me,” he sputtered.

“Look out there,” she said, pointing at Bobby holding an imaginary machine gun. “Do you know how much you mean to him? He is so proud to be able to tell his friends that he has a War Hero as a grandpa. And I am just as proud. But we have kept you from your nap long enough, we should leave.”

Just then they saw a woman walking down the street, trailing behind two mixed breed dogs. One was part German Shepherd, the other part golden lab. Rachael saw, from her Ron experience, that the lab was injured, and was limping badly from a rear paw. The lady turned into the sidewalk for the house next to M. Verdun, and smiled at him.

“Visitors, monsieur?” she asked.

“These are my new grandchildren, Miss Lajoie” he said proudly.

“Doggies,” Bobby squealed. “Can I pet them?”

“You can certainly pet Rudolph,” she said. “He loves children. But Goldie is a little skittish lately, and has even been snapping at me.”

“I think she is injured,” Rachael said, kneeling down next to the lab, who did seem as if she was going to snap when the girl put her hand out to its shoulder. As soon as she made contact though, Rachael felt energy pass through her hand and arm, and the dog immediately calmed down.

Rachael was amazed. She could see into the dog. It was clearer than an x-ray. More like an autopsy, but the animal had not been cut open. She could see blood flowing, nerves pulsing, and especially the bone structure. The lab had a nasty split on her left rear leg bones, causing her pain and the limp that Rachael had noticed.

“Goldie has a small break in her rear leg,” Rachael said. “She needs to see a vet.”

“Grandpa is a vet,” Bobby said helpfully.

“Not that kind of vet. He is a veteran. Goldie needs a veterinarian.”

“Oh dear,” the lady said. “I haven’t finished paying for the last visit. Rudolph ate something that made him sick.”

Apparently the woman was as hard up for money as the Cartrights. Piano lessons must not pay well. Plus two large dogs would eat a lot.

“Maybe we can do something here,” Rachael said. “Do you have some kind of plaster?”

“I think I have some left over from when my brother patched up my kitchen wall where the mirror was. Poly-something?”

“Poly-filla,” Rachael said. “The problem is she will probably want to chew any cast off. Do you have much pepper in the house?”

“Oh yes, I love pepper,” the lady said. She turned and went into the house. Rachael held and comforted Goldie, while Bobby was having a riot playing with Rudolph.

The woman came out with an old plastic tub of Poly-filla, which Rachael found just a bit stiff, perfect for her purposes. She dumped the entire package of pepper into it, and then started to mix it with her hands, getting the pepper mixed well into it.

“She will try to chew it off,” she told the woman, Miss Lajoie. “The pepper will prevent her from doing that. She might try, and sneeze once or twice, and then will give it up. She needs a cast for at least a week, perhaps two.”

Rachael wished she had a full set of equipment. The dog’s leg really should be shaved first. But she would have to make do. She slathered the plaster onto the dog, and it was the perfect consistency to stick and allow her to mold a cast, leaving the paw out. Normally this would have been difficult, even in a clinic, since she first had to set the bone together again, and this was painful. But Goldie took it bravely without anesthetic. That was when Rachael realized that the dog was under a local anesthetic. She was feeding that power into the dog, and numbing the nerves around the break, effectively eliminating the pain. It certainly made the process of putting the cast on easier. When she added in her new ability to see inside the dog, ensuring that the bone was set perfectly, it actually made the operation much easier than it would have been for Ron.

After a few minutes, the plaster was starting to set. “Where does she sleep?” Rachael asked. “I need to put her down for a while.”

Miss Lajoie took her inside, and there were two large crates for the dogs. Rachael gently placed Goldie into hers, and then rested her hand on the dog’s head. After a few minutes, Goldie fell asleep. Rachael had been wishing for a shot to put the dog out for a few hours, and the power coming from her hand effectively did the same thing.

“She will sleep for at least two hours, I hope,” Rachael said. “It might be as much as six. At any rate the cast will be rock solid by then. She will still limp as she walks, but the pain will be gone. Here is my phone number.” She wrote her name and number on a slip of paper. “Call me if she isn’t awake in six hours. We come by here every school day that is not rainy to visit our new Grandpa. If you don’t mind, I would like to check in on her.”

“I don’t know what to say … Rachael”, the lady read the name on the paper. “I really can’t afford a vet right now, and if this helps. Can I do a trade? Some piano lessons?”

Rachael thought about it. She really didn’t have the time for lessons with her new life. But …

“Do you teach guitar as well? Bobby might like to learn.” Piano would do nothing towards making Bobby one of the cool kids, but a guitar would.

“Actually I do. But I would recommend at least a few months of piano first, just to master the fundamentals of music. People who learn piano first are often better players of other instruments, and much more likely to learn how to write music when they are older.”

“Do you teach on Saturday’s?”

“That is one of my busier days, but I could squeeze in an hour lesson for a few months. That should cover the vet bill you just saved me.”

It would also work well for Rachael, giving her an hour to go grocery shopping for her family and M. Verdun. In fact …

“I could use that time to go shopping,” she said. “I could pick up a few things for you as well, if you like.”

“Oh my, that would be wonderful,” the music teacher said. “It would mean that I don’t waste valuable time when I could be teaching.”

“Make me a list by Friday,” the girl said. “I’ll pick it up when I get Grandpa’s. Now, we need to surgically separate your other dog from my brother. He really loves dogs.”

“So do I,” Miss Lajoie said.

“Come on Bobby, we are late. We need to get home to make dinner for Momma.”

By the time they did get home it was too late to do much. Rachael made a quick salad (Bobby helped) and then decided to make sandwiches with the cold cuts. They had a meal ready for supper, and Bobby announced that Bologna sandwiches were his new favorite, and asked for the same for lunches.

After the dishes were done, Bobby objected when he was told he had to take a bath. “You smell like dog,” Rachael said.

“I like dog smell,” Bobby retorted as the telephone rang. Maria went to pick it up, while Rachael used her usual bribe of Harry Potter reading time to get Bobby into the tub.

Maria set down the phone with a strange look on her face. “What is it, Momma?” Rachael asked.

“I think I have a date,” she said softly. “That was Steve Winslow, the policeman who lives down the street. We went to his yard sale, remember? He just called and asked me out tomorrow night.”

“Just like that? Are you going?”

“Well, he must have found out where I worked, because he was there for meals while on duty both days on the weekend, and I guess I did flirt with him a bit. He is quite handsome, you know. So yes, I am going. Can you look after Bobby for me? I might not be back until late.”

“Or early,” Rachael said with a grin.

“Rachael.” Maria said in a shocked voice. “It is only a first date. I will not be out until early.”

“I know Momma. I was just teasing you. What will you wear?”

“Goodness, I don’t know. There is that red skirt we got last week, but that was something his ex wore. Do you think he would notice.”

“First of all, that skirt was practically brand new, so she couldn’t have worn it more than once or twice. And he is a man, so he probably wouldn’t notice clothes at all. And if he does, then he will just notice how much better you look in it than she ever did. But what about work? You won’t want to go out after a whole day at the restaurant.”

“I have Tuesday and Wednesday off because I worked the weekend,” Maria said. Steve will be working on Tuesday, but a shift that ends at 2 p.m. so he will be good to go.”

Just then Bobby popped his head around the corner of the upstairs, and called for Rachael to bring the Harry Potter book.

“You hop into bed, and I’ll be there in one minute,” Rachael called out, and then hugged her mother. “I really hope this works out for you. He is such a nice guy.”

“Me too. God, what was I thinking? I haven’t been on a date since I was in high school.”

After Bobby listened through two chapters of the book, he fell asleep, exhausted from all the running around he had done during the day. He had started with his war games at Grandpa’s, and then played with Rudolph the dog for over an hour, and a big dog like that can use a lot of energy. And she didn’t know how much running around he had been doing at school. He was certainly going to be losing weight, or more likely losing fat, since he was a growing boy and would probably not lose pounds, just inches around the waist.

Rachael spent an hour doing homework, including some more catchup assignments in various subjects that she had asked for after telling her other teachers what Mrs. Cathcart had offered. All had agreed, since her new work ethic and classroom behavior was so improved.

Dear Lord

I can only thank you again for everything you have done for me. Mikki is becoming a star at the school, with everyone excited about her modeling sleepover. Bobby is getting thinner, I think, and maybe I am a bit as well. Momma is going on a date. I really hope it works well for her, because Steve is super nice, and I think I would like him as a dad. And I made a new friend today with Miss Lajoie, who is going to teach guitar to Bobby now. I don’t understand why I could do all that stuff with Goldie, but I’m glad I could help. I guess if it continues I am going to be a vet again: with those abilities I would be a good one.

Amen

That night Rachael dreamed. St. John the angel was in the dream, and she suddenly realized that it was more than a simple dream.

“Welcome,” she said to the angel as she saw him approaching her on what appeared to be a cloud. “I want to thank you for giving me this new life. I really like helping people, and I think I am doing a good job. Am I?”

“No need to thank me,” St. John said. “Your thanks go to a higher source, and I’m sure He has been receiving them in your prayers. As to how you are doing, that is why I am here. You have done so well, you have been given a boon: the ability to see inside of animals. It won’t work with people, but we feel it will be useful to you in your career, if you again decide to help ease the suffering of animals.”

“It certainly will,” Rachael agreed.

“And there was a second boon,” St. John said. “This was most unusual. It comes from a resident here, not management. Marie Verdun was so impressed at how you are looking after her husband that she wanted to do something for you. I think the fact that you encouraged him to meet up with her in his dreams was a big factor. At any rate, she has given you the ability to calm animals with a touch. That too will not work with people, only animals.”

“It was very useful today,” Rachael said. “Thank her as well.” With that the dream faded away, and Rachael slept deeply.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

TUESDAY, May 3, 2016

Rachael got on the bus to see the girls in the back to frantically waving her back to the same seat she had sat on yesterday. They were all full of the plans for the sleepover that was planned for Friday. So far there were going to be six coming, the three girls, Janice, Mikki, and Rachael.

“Mikki is actually pretty cool,” Carly said, and both her partners shook their heads in agreement. I couldn’t believe how great that picture she took of you turned out.”

“Well, actually her dad took that picture,” Rachael clarified. “But apparently Mikki did all of something they call post, and that’s what makes the picture look so professional. Her mom says she is better than her dad at that.”

“I wonder if her dad does weddings,” Becca said. “I have a cousin who is getting married in June. I wonder if her dad would be cheaper.”

“Is cheaper something you really want with a wedding?” Rachael asked. “I would think quality is more important than price for something like that.”

“Hmm. I guess so. It’s just Kendra, my cousin, said that it was going to cost some $5000 for them to shoot her wedding. It seems like a lot of money.”

“I don’t know if he would want to shoot it anyway,” Rachael said. “He is some kind of finance guy in Toronto, so he might not want to give up a weekend to do it. But he really likes photography, so he might. You should ask Mikki.”

It was at that point where Mikki got on the bus, but today she was not alone. There was an exceptionally tall girl who got on at that stop. “Hi guys,” Mikki said. “This is Larissa, who is new at the school starting today.” Then she stopped. There were three seats across the back of the bus, but only two seats in the rows in front. There was no way that all six of them could sit together. Rachael decided to act.

“Look, why don’t you sit back here, Mikki,” she said. “Becca wants to talk to you about wedding photography. I’ll go up to our old seat and get to know Larissa.”

The tall new girl towered over Rachael. She was either six feet tall, or close to it, an unusual height for a girl so young. She also had a bit of a French accent. Rachael chose to speak French with her, and Larissa seemed grateful to be speaking in her native tongue.

“You will have to be my partner in French class,” Rachael said. “Between the two of us we will drive Mrs. Lafleur nuts. Did you just move into town?”

“Yes, on the weekend. His company transferred my father and he jumped at the chance to come. I wasn’t so eager, nor was mom, but Marc, my little brother was. He is really into hockey, so a chance to come to Canada was like coming to heaven for him. My dad said I had my years in Paris, and now it was his turn.”

“Paris. That is so neat. I would love to live there,” Rachael said.

“Yes, it was nice. And I had good work there.”

“What did you do?”

“Oh, I did modeling. It is about the only thing that is good about being so tall.”

“Tall and beautiful. You are gorgeous.”

“Thank you. Tell me, are there any tall boys in your school?”

“Hmmm. Mark Russett is pretty tall. He might not be as tall as you, but he would be close. He plays basketball and can dunk the ball. Of course, those are the eight-foot baskets in our gym, not the 10-foot high ones like in the high school. He is kinda cute. I’ll introduce you today or tomorrow.”

“Wow, that would be cool. He doesn’t have a girlfriend?”

“Not that I know of. And even if he did she wouldn’t be nearly as cute as you are.” Larissa had the lanky, slender look of the typical fashion model, with light brown hair down to her mid back, and a waist Rachael would die for. Her breasts were larger than Rachael’s, but not as large as some of the girls in her class. This was a good thing, Rachael decided, for if she was bigger up there she would look like a high school or college student.”

When the bus stopped at the school, Larissa hesitated in getting off. Mikki paused as the girls passed them, but Rachael nodded for her to follow the others, while she took her time with the new girl.

“Are you nervous?” she asked Larissa, still using French.

“Yes I am. I am supposed to report to the office. I was there yesterday. I guess you would have been in the classes with all the others. But my mom was with me, and I guess I didn’t pay too much attention. I’m not even sure where the office is.”

“Well come with me. I will take you there,” Rachael said confidently, hoping to boost the spirits of the girl. “We will be the Odd Couple of the school. You so tall, and me so short.”

There were more than a few stares at the pair of them as they walked to the office, which was right at the main entrance, and wouldn’t have been hard for Larissa to find.

Inside Mrs. Deboer was out in a few seconds after Larissa came in. “Our new student. Welcome. I see you have met Rachael here. Good, good. I think the two of you have the same schedule. I had planned on someone else to be your peer mentor, but if you are comfortable with Rachael, I can give her the job. She certainly needs some citizenship points this term, although lately she has been doing better.”

“Oui, Rachael, sil vous plait, ” Larissa said, then remembered she needed to speak English. “Yes please, I would like Rachael.”

Mrs. Deboer scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to Rachael. This pass will allow you to be a bit late to your first class. Don’t make me regret giving it to you. You will need a few minutes to show Larissa the lockers, and the various facilities in the school. Since you are in the same classes, you will be able to show her to the other various rooms today and tomorrow.”

“And after,” Rachael said. “I am sure Larissa and I are going to be good friends.” The new girl beamed hearing that comment. Mrs. Deboer smiled too, knowing how important acceptance could be for a new student. She handed Larissa a lock, a slip of paper with her schedule and locker number, and a pile of books.

“You might not need all of these, with only a couple months left in the term, but they can help you get caught up, if your old school was on a different schedule. I can arrange tutoring if you need it in any subjects.”

“You might want to use Larissa as a tutor in French,” Rachael said. “She is from France, after all.”

“Yes, we always need good students to help, Mrs. Deboer said. “And I might call on you too for that Rachael. Mrs. Lafleur tells me that your French is much better than your marks earlier in the year indicated. Now that you have straightened things out a bit, you might want to volunteer.”

“I will definitely help. I have been helping some of my friends already. And for Larissa, it will be a good way to meet more people.”

“Do you have a book bag or backpack?” Mrs. Deboer asked, pushing forth the pile of books.

“No. Not yet. I should get one?”

“That is up to you. Most of the students carry a backpack,” the principal said.

“We can carry half the books each,” Rachael said. “Her locker is near mine. Let’s go.”

As they walked towards the locker the bell rang, and suddenly they were alone in deserted halls. This made it easier to carry the books, and there were no longer people gawking at Larissa.

“Everybody stares at me,” she told Rachael, nearly in tears. “Like I am a freak.”

“I wish I could be that kind of freak,” Rachael said with a laugh. “They are staring at you because you are so beautiful. Yeah, you are tall, and hanging out with a shrimp like me probably makes that more noticeable. You might want to find taller girls to be friends with.”

“Oh no, Rachael,” she said. “You and Mikki have been so nice to me. I was worried that I wouldn’t meet any friends here. And Mikki is going to try to get me into her sleepover this week.”

“Oh, you know about that?” Rachael said. She had planned to ask Mikki if they could add Larissa into the list. Her friend seemed to be spreading the niceness that Rachael had started. “You really should come. It will be a lot of fun, and you will meet some more girls. In fact, you probably can give us some modeling tips.”

At the locker they put away the books other than English, Math, and History, the subjects of the morning. Then they hurried off to the English class, with Rachael pointing out the cafeteria, washrooms, gym and other notable areas as they hurried along.

At the closed classroom door, Rachael tapped, and then opened the door. “Ah, Miss Cartright. Back to your old habits, I see,” a disapproving Mrs. Cathcart said, accepting the pass from her as she crept down to a seat.

“My apologies, Rachael,” she added after reading the pass. “I see that you have been showing our new student around the school. And you seem to have been fairly up on our subject matter lately, so I can’t complain. But let’s take a break from parsing sentences for a moment to meet our new student. Could you stand and tell us your name child?”

Larissa stood shyly. “I am Larissa Hafleur. This is my first day at the school, and my first week in Canada. I hope to get to know all of you soon, and I am sure some of us will become friends.”

“Very good dear,” Mrs. Cathcart said. “And your English was very good. I understand it is a second language for you. Any of you” she looked out at the class “who might think Miss Hafleur’s accent is odd, or funny, should realize that it is much better than the English accents that you demonstrate when attempting to speak French.”

The rest of English went well, along with Math and History. Then it was lunchtime.

“Did you bring a lunch?” Rachael asked as Larissa and Mikki walked to the cafeteria with her.

“No. They told me they serve hot food here,” Larissa said. “I brought money though.”

“Well, some people call it food, Rachael laughed, “but that is debatable. Mikki, you should go to the table, and save us some spaces. You might need to squeeze in next to Tony. I’ll stay up here and watch to make sure Larissa gets through the line without problems.”

As Larissa was waiting to get food, something-pasta today, Rachael was approached by Lucy Davners, the girl from the basketball incident a few days ago. “Rachael, can you help me,” Lucy said softly. “I heard you were helping Mikki plan a modeling sleepover. I really, really want to go to that. You are a friend of Mikki’s. Can you get me in?”

“Well, there were only supposed to be six, and I think we are up to seven now,” Rachael said hesitantly.

“I need to go,” Lucy said. “I want to be a cosmetologist when I get out of school, and I’m really good at makeup. If you guys are all getting made up for photos, it would give me great experience. I know I have been a bit of a pest to you guys, but you are turning into the new cool kids. Can you please, please, please get me in?”

“Well I’m not the decider,” Rachael said. “I can ask Mikki, and she will have to ask her mother if she can have eight. That seems to be a lot.”

“Oh thank you, thank you,” Lucy said, then paused. “Who is the tall freak in the lineup over there?”

“That is Larissa, my new friend,” Rachael said coldly. “And she is going to be one of the girls at the party.”

“Oh. Oops. Sometime my mouth says things without asking my brain if it should,” Lucy apologized, and then slunk off.

Larissa was through the line. “Your Canadian money is so strange to me: loonies and toonies. I am used to Euros. What are you going to eat?” She said as they walked to the table.

“I make my own lunch,” Rachael said. “A sandwich and a bit of a salad. Today I’m getting the last of the roast beef from Sunday, since my little brother has recently turned into a Bologna lover.”

“I have been to Bologna,” Larissa said. “It is a pretty city. What kind of food goes in a Bologna sandwich?”

“It is a sausage. I don’t know what they call it over there,” Rachael confessed.

“Mortadella? That is a Bologna sausage.”

“No, we have that here, and it is different. I’ll bring one in tomorrow and show you then. Look, here is the gang.”

Rachael introduced the kids at the table. The boys were getting used to having girls sit with them, and even pretty girls, but Larissa’s height was intimidating. But Mikki was there, and Larissa knew her from their bus stop. Apparently the girls only lived a half block apart. The sleepover wouldn’t be far for Larissa to travel.

“By the way, Lucy wants to come to the sleepover,” Rachael said.

“No way,” Mikki said abruptly. “I don’t want that bitch coming to my house.”

“Well, she says she is really good with makeup,” Rachael said. “And we really don’t have anyone good at that, do we? Unless Larissa does makeup.”

Larissa had been looking into the red glop on her plate, with stray bits of soggy pasta floating in it, with a look that said this was not what she considered good Italian food. “No, I get makeup done for me when I do modeling work,” she said. “They have people who do it for me. Mom won’t let me use much makeup at other times, so I’m probably no better at it than any of you. Is this really food? I mean, it looks like pasta of some sort, but it tastes all mushy and the sauce looks like tomato soup.”

“You have just learned why most of us, the girls anyway, bring food in. Even the salads here are … well, not really food,” Rachael said.

“Yeah, but at least I can eat the salad,” Larissa said. “Hopefully it will keep me alive until after school. Does anyone else want this … stuff?”

One of the boys jumped at the chance for free food, and gladly took the pasta and started to vacuum it into his mouth. Larissa just shuddered and picked at her salad, moving the most wilted leaves out of the way.

“You should walk home with us tonight,” Rachael said. “Normally you have to get permission from your parents, but you are new, and probably can get away with it. Mikki, are you coming with us?”

“Yes. It was fun sitting with the girls on the bus yesterday, but I missed you, and little Bobby too. And it will be fun walking with Larissa for the last part of the trip instead of doing it alone.”

After lunch was the double science period, then French, where as expected Mrs. Lafleur was more than a little intimidated by having a native French speaker in the class. Of course the material was far too simple for the new girl, but she did sit with Mikki, and help her with her pronunciation and tenses, just as Rachael had in the past. Rachael moved over to help Janice Schlepper, who also had trouble with French.

After school Mikki, Larissa, and Rachael met at their lockers, and went over to pick up Bobby. “Wow, you are really tall,” the boy said first, but then redeemed himself by adding “but really, really pretty too.”

“You are very handsome too,” Larissa said. “But very short.” They all laughed at the joke, even Bobby, who really wasn’t sure what was so funny.

As they walked to the stores, Rachael told Mikki about the room in the library, and her idea to have a movie night starting next week. The girls were both enthusiastic about the idea, particularly if Mark Russett could be there, Larissa suggested. “And Tony DaSilva is sure to come,” Rachael added, since he lives next door to the library. Too bad that Robert won’t be able to come. He lives on a farm and can’t get in easily.”

They introduced Larissa to DaSilva’s, and the new girl promptly announced that it was a proper store, like the ones back home. Tony was already in, working, and he gave Larissa a sample of Bologna sausage, which the girl decided tasted better than what she had for lunch. Larissa then surprised the girls by speaking in Italian to Mrs. DaSilva, who was surprised to hear her language spoken, even though with a French accent. Larissa was her new favorite customer, particularly when the girl ordered a large sack of goods, cheese, cold meats, vegetables, and fruit.

Bobby got his apple. Mrs. DaSilva had gotten into the habit of picking a particularly big and shiny one for the boy. Actually, Rachael bought quite a few things for the dinner tonight.

They bypassed the library, Larissa saying they had the same thing in France, called a Bibliotheque. Then they stopped into the Bread Baron, which Larissa called a Boulangerie. She was also impressed here and bought another selection of breads, rolls and pastries. “They told us about the big grocery, but the bakery and vegetable sections there were not as good as these two stores,” Larissa said. “My mother will be so pleased to learn that there are good stores here too.”

Rachael bought a single loaf of bread, and Mikki picked up a selection of desserts for her family, then the girls headed down towards the Verdun house.

“Three jeune filles,” M. Verdun exclaimed as they approached. When Larissa found out that the old soldier spoke French, she started in that language at full speed, and Rachael could barely keep up. Finally she got in a few words, also in French. “Since you have company here, I think I will take the others next door to see my patient.”

The two nodded, and continued chatting about France, so Rachael led Mikki and Bobby next door to Miss Lajoie’s home. When they rapped on the door, Rudolph barked, and was growling when the piano teacher opened the door. But when he saw Bobby, his tail started to wag.

“Please come in girls. Bobby, would you like to take Rudolph for a walk? Just around the block, and hold the leash tightly. I haven’t been able to take him out with Goldie laid up, and he needs the exercise. Is that all right?” she asked Rachael.

“That is fine,” she told her brother. “But hold tight, if he sees a squirrel he might want to chase it. There aren’t many cars on the street, but you don’t want to let Rudolph get hit.”

With that Rachael turned her attention to Goldie. The dog was laying in her crate, and clearly not happy with her cast. There were only a few marks where she had tried to chew at it, so the pepper seemed to have worked. Rachael put her hand on the dog and immediately realized that Goldie was running a temperature. Not an dangerously high one, but enough to exhaust her. Then, to her amazement, Rachael felt the temperature start to drop towards normal as the force flowed though her hand into the dog.

Next the girl looked into Goldie’s leg, and saw the bone was knitting together well. In fact, it looked as though the dog had been wearing the cast for four days, not one. There was every indication that the cast would be able to come off in a week, if not sooner.

As she fed energy into the dog, Rachael told Mikki that she had made the cast for the dog.

“How did you know what to do”? Mikki asked, and Rachael had to think fast. “I read a lot, you know,” she finally said. “I want to be a veterinarian when I grow up, so I’ve been reading about dogs. And I really seem to get along well with animals.”

“She is a beautiful dog,” Mikki said.

“Thank you my dear,” Miss Lajoie said. “I love her dearly, and it upsets me greatly when she is in pain.”

“Well, I think she is a lot better now,” Rachael said as she stood up. “Has she been eating?”

“Not at all,” Miss Lajoie said. “I think Rudolph helped himself to her portion this morning.”

“Do you have canned food, or dry?”

“Both. They get canned on Sunday.”

“Can you get her a bit of canned, maybe half what she normally eats. I think a little food will help her along, and some water.”

The woman did so, and was thrilled to see Goldie slowly clean the food dish, and then drink deeply from the water before lying back down.

“We will be back tomorrow to check on her again. Call if she is doing poorly, no matter what time it is.”

“I will. You know dear, you are a saint. Goldie looks so much better now than she did just an hour ago.”

“Let’s go out and see if your other dog is back, or if Bobby had kidnapped him.” They found the boy and the dog rolling about on the front lawn after having walked around the block twice, according to Bobby.

As Miss Lajoie took Rudolph in, Larissa looked up as they came back. “Did you know that this man was at the D-Day? He helped to liberate my country. Every year our school comes out from Paris and all the students tend to the graves of the brave men buried there. I did not know that any were still alive that went there.”

“He is a hero,” Bobby boasted. “My grandpa.”

“All of them were heroes, Larissa said. “My great grandfather told us about the time of the Nazis, and many horrible things happened. My people will always keep the Canadians, the British, and the Americans in out hearts for ridding us of those people. I know the Germans are our friends now, but we owe our country to people like this. I know when my family hear of Monsieur Verdun, they will want to come to thank him personally.”

Rachael considered for a moment. The old man didn’t normally enjoy too much attention, since he considered it was the ones who were left in France who were the real heroes. But he did enjoy speaking in French, and looked as though he might enjoy meeting Larissa’s family. “Why don’t you bring them over on Saturday afternoon. About 3 p.m. I will make some little sandwiches for them and they can have tea with the sergeant.”

“That would be lovely,” Larissa said. “I can’t wait to tell them. You know, after meeting you and Mikki, and then finding those nice shops, and now meeting this hero, I am starting to like Canada.”

A few minutes later, Rachael and Bobby left the other girls to walk home as they turned into their own house. There Rachael found her mother was in a state, and needed her help in getting ready for her date with Steve in three hours. Bobby didn’t get vegetable sticks, but was satisfied with one of Rachael’s cookies as the girl went up to help her mother. He sat and read his books as the two females went upstairs to panic.

“Calm down Momma,” Rachael ordered. “What is the problem? We have lots of time before Steve comes.”

“I don’t know if I should wear my hair up or down. Or what to wear. And, oh God, I haven’t had to do my makeup for years.”

“Let’s start with the hair. I don’t think Steve is a hair up kind of guy. I mean, he’s not taking you to prom is he? It’s just dinner and maybe a little dancing. So leave the hair down. Okay?”

“Okay. What do I wear?”

It isn’t like you have a lot of choice, do you. Definitely don’t wear a work uniform though. That might not go well in the place you go to eat. And if he takes you to your café, they might ask you to start waiting on tables.”

Maria looked strangely at her daughter, and then burst out laughing. “You are hilarious. And that’s just what I needed to calm down. This is just a date. A first date, and my first date in 14 years, but just a date. Steve is a nice guy, but if it doesn’t work out, it isn’t the end of the world.”

With Maria calmed down they were able to pick out an outfit for her: one of the better skirts from the yard sale, and then Maria’s best blouse. It was white, with a silvery pattern throughout that looked like a maze. Rachael joked that it would let Steve stare at Maria’s breasts, and claim he was doing the puzzle.

They laughed, and then started working on makeup. Rachael was not a lot of help here, as she just wore schoolgirl basic makeup, and the only other makeup from her memories was punk, and that didn’t seem appropriate. In the end Maria, who never work makeup to work, just went with a basic look, similar to what she had done for church on Sunday.

“That is perfect,” Rachael said. “Your eyes really pop with a little makeup.”

“One of the curses of being blonde,” Maria said. “With light lashes and brows, your face can wash out a bit.”

“You just need some lipstick, and you will be perfect. And now I better get downstairs, because I need to feed a bottomless pit.”

“What are you doing for dinner?”

“Just pizza,” Rachael said.

“Oh, I will need to give you money then,” Maria said.

“Nope. I’m going to make a pizza from scratch. I got the fixings at DaSilva’s today. It will be a canned sauce. I really need to learn how to make a good tomato sauce from scratch. Mrs. DaSilva said she would give me some from her family recipe. But I got mozzarella, pepperoni, and sausage for toppings. I got a can of mushrooms last weekend shopping. We should be able to have a healthy pizza in no time, for a fraction of the price of the store ones.”

“You are such a little genius, daughter of mine,” Maria said, hugging her. “Let’s go downstairs.”

“Wow Momma, you look beautiful. And not so tall,” Bobby said, confusing Maria until Rachael told her about the comment he had made on first seeing Larissa.

“Another new friend?” Maria asked. “You will have to ask her in one day. I would like to meet her. Is she as nice as Michaela?”

“Yes, I think she is. And I deliberately didn’t ask them in today because I knew you were going to be getting ready for a date. Imagine if I had brought two girls in with the state you were in.”

Rachael made the pizza crust using biscuit dough that rose as the oven heated. She sprinkled the sauce and ingredients on top, and had the pie nearly baked when Steve knocked on the door. Rachael let him in, as Maria fixed her lipstick.

“Hi Steve, Mom is nearly ready.”

“Wow,” was all the policeman could say as he saw Maria walk down the stairs. “I don’t think I’ve ever dated a girl who was ready on time. We have a few minutes before our reservations at Chez Luigi’s. But with the smells coming from your kitchen, I wonder if we should book a table here.”

“My daughter cooks,” Maria said. “She had made a pizza for Bobby and her. I don’t think there would be enough for four. Besides, I have heard good things about Chez Luigi’s. I would love to eat there.”

“And afterwards we will head out to Kiki’s for some dancing, if you are up for it.”

With only a little more small chat, they headed out the door, with Maria ordering Rachael not to wait up for her. A few minutes later, Bobby headed into the kitchen and sat down in front of the oven window, willing the pizza to be done.

“Only another fifteen more minutes, Tiger,” Rachael said, and the boy groaned.

“I can’t wait fifteen more minutes. I am hungry now.”

“I think you will live. I know how much you like pizza. You are going to have to tell me if mine is as good as the ones from the school, or the ones that Momma brings home from the café sometimes.”

“Yeah, Momma hasn’t brought home dinner for a long time,” he said. “I liked the food she brought. But I like the food you make even better. Even sallid.”

“Good idea. We have just enough time to make a salad. Are you up for it? And then it will be a healthy pizza meal for us.”

They worked together in the kitchen, and had two plates of salad ready just as the pizza was done. Rachael left it to rest on the counter while they ate their salads. Actually, Bobby pretty much inhaled his, since the smells of the cooked pizza were distracting him. Finally Rachael cut the pie into six and gave him two large slices, and took one herself. In the end Bobby had a third slice, and declared it “Best pizza ever.” Rachael had to agree. She was pretty sure that the recipe would be a hit at the sleepover on Friday. She made a mental note to ask all the girls coming what kind of pizza they liked, and plan out the toppings.

After Rachael had washed the dishes, and Bobby had another bath (he smelled like dog again) they read for more than an hour in bed before he fell asleep. Rachael did her homework, and read for a while, and finally realized that her Mom was not going to be home until later, and she was too tired to stay up. She got down on her knees and prayed.

Dear Lord

Thank you again for everything. I don’t usually ask you for things, but could you please let my Momma have a good time tonight? She hasn’t been out for ever so long, and she really deserves some fun in her life. Steve is a good man, and I would love to have him as a father, but it is most important that Momma loves him. Please keep Bobby, Mikki, Grandpa, Miss Lajoie and her dogs, and everybody else safe.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Three postings in three days. I’m trying to see if I can do a chapter a day. Don’t worry: I’m not trying to be another Angharad. I just want to get to the sleepover chapter sooner. I’m as excited as all the other girls. Dawn.

WEDNESDAY, May 4, 2016

Rachael got Bobby up and ready for school in the morning. She had peeked into her mother’s room, to find Maria solidly asleep in her bed. Rachael smiled, and then went down to make breakfast. The children left the house before their mother woke up.

On the bus Rachael again sat with Larissa, while Mikki went to the back to sit with the girls. “Do you have a gym suit,” she asked the tall girl. “We have two hours of Phys. Ed. this morning.”

“Oui. They told me about that when I registered,” Larissa said. “The suits, they are not very attractive, are they?”

“No. They never are. I think they have committees to search out the ugliest suits possible,” Rachael laughed. “Although with your long legs, I think the boys will all be looking at you anyway.”

At school Mikki caught up with Rachael at their lockers. “Rachael, can you babysit Danny for a couple hours tonight? Mom and I want to go do some shopping after school, and my other brother is useless. He claims he has something on, but I think he just wants to avoid babysitting. Mom will pay you.”

“No need to pay me. I love Danny, and will look after him for free.”

“No, you have to take something. We will be gone through supper, so you will have to feed him. We can’t have you doing that for free.”

“Okay. Is there anything he won’t eat?”

“No he is pretty good. I doubt he will eat a salad, but anything else will be good.”

“Okay. I’ll text Mom saying you will do it. We will drop him off at your house when we are heading downtown, and pick him up after we are done, probably two hours.”

After French class the girls changed into PE suits, and as Rachael had predicted the leggy Larissa was a knockout in hers. When she shyly crept into the gym the teacher, Ms. Smith, stared at her. In nearly 10 years of teaching girls phys. ed., she had never had a student who was taller than her, and Larissa was, by a full inch.

“You are the new student?” she asked. Larissa nodded. “We are doing basketball this term. Have you played?”

“No, I haven’t. I was exempted from PE in France and took Latin instead. I’m not very athletic.”

“Latin?” the teacher sneered. “Heads up.” She then rifled the ball at Larissa’s head.

Rachael was ready for that, as Ms. Smith had done the same to her a few days earlier. So she was able to grab the ball seconds before it would have hit the tall girl in the face. Larissa hadn’t moved, and just stared at the near assault.

“No reflexes, I see,” the teacher said. “Okay, Rachael. Since you are looking after her I will put her on your team for the games today. See if you can get her slightly coordinated by the end of the term.”

The first half of the class was learning some defensive setups, and Larissa, as she had promised, was not very good. She tried, but always got her long legs mixed up, and fell several times. She was also afraid of the ball. Rachael wondered how much worse that would have been if she had started the class by getting hit in the face by one.

Rachael pulled Larissa out of the class activity and took her to the side, where she merely tossed the ball back and forth with the girl, slowly getting her used to handling the ball. She missed a few passes, but Rachael kept the lobs soft, and slowly she got used to it. By the time the teaching part of the class was over, she was more comfortable with the ball, and seemed to have her feet better coordinated.

In the game that followed, Rachael’s team showed no benefit to having a six-footer on the team. The group again played hard and had fun, with all the girls getting good minutes on the court. Near the end of the game, they were down 19-15 when Larissa made a jump shot, the first one that managed to go in. She was stunned, but all the other girls on the team clustered around and hugged her. There was only about a minute left in the game, and Rachael put herself in, resting Janice. Rachael also made a shot, using her reverse layup to confuse the opposition defender, and the game ended as a tie, which led to her teammates acting like they had won a championship. They had tied a game, and they all mobbed Rachael this time.

“Good game, guys,” Ms. Smith said. “Nice work with the new girl, Rachael. It is too late for me this term. Basketball season is almost over. But if you keep working with her, she could do well in high school next year.”

“Thanks coach,” Rachael said, running to get to the showers before the hot water ran out this time.

At lunch Larissa was excited at her accomplishment during the game. “I never liked sports before,” she explained. “When I was modeling they made me take Latin so I wouldn’t break a fingernail or get a bruise. But that was fun. You are a great coach, Rachael.”

“It is a good thing you didn’t explain why you were taking Latin,” Rachael laughed. “Break a nail? I’ll show you ‘break a nail’,” she said, mimicking the coach’s intense manner.

“She is pretty bad, isn’t she,” Larissa said. “I can’t believe the way she threw that ball at me at the start. Thanks for catching it.”

“Well, I was ready for it. She tried the same thing with me a few days ago, but I was ready for it.”

“A few days ago? Are you new here too? You seem so good, and you are captain of our team.”

“Well, let’s just say that I skipped a lot of PE earlier in the term, and Ms. Smith thought she was picking on me when she made me coach of the misfits. That’s what the other teams were calling us, because we hadn’t won a game.”

“But today we tied,” Mikki added. “First time ever. And most of us scored.”

“Yeah, but Rachael scored most, eight. I’m just glad that I wasn’t the one taking the last shot this time. That can be hard, the pressure,” Janice noted.

“You guys all did great,” Rachael said. “We might be the misfits, but we are a team, with everyone getting to play, and everyone getting better. On some of the other teams it is two or three girls playing all the time, getting all the points. The girls sitting on the bench aren’t having fun, aren’t learning, and aren’t getting any better.”

As they ate (Larissa brought a sandwich and a salad from home) Rachael told the others about the idea for movie night. Everyone seemed excited about it, even the boys, when they learned that this was something they could participate in, unlike the sleepover chatter they had been hearing all week. Only Robert seemed despondent.

“Something else I can’t participate in,” he said. “I’d like to take you, Rachael.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Mikki said as Rachael sat back, astounded at the feelings that were flooding through her. She tried to think that she was 60 years old, and a man at that, but those feelings told her she was very much a 13-year-old teenage girl who had been told for the first time that a boy liked her. She finally was able to speak.

“Don’t worry, Rob. Maybe I can do a visit to your farm. What did your parents say?”

“They think it would be cool. What about Saturday?”

“That might be hard, with the sleepover this weekend. But if my Mom has Saturday off the next week, then we could do it then.”

After lunch they worked through the afternoon classes, and then headed straight home. There was no shopping, other than a quick trip into DaSilva’s for Bobby’s apple, and into Bread Baron for a fresh loaf of bread.

At Grandpa’s Bobby and Larissa sat with the old man, while Mikki continued home so she could be ready for her trip with her mom. Rachael went over to Miss Lajoie’s to check on Goldie, and Bobby ran over to take Rudolph for his walk. The lab was better. She had eaten well and when Rachael looked into her leg she could see that the split was healing nicely. It would be healed tomorrow, she guessed, but the cast should stay on until the weekend. She told Miss Lajoie what kind of tools she would need to take it off, and the woman said she would look into her shed to see if there was anything there that might work.

By then Bobby was back, and after a quick kiss for grandpa, and apologies for ignoring him to tend to the dog, the three of them hurried off home. They were nearly there when they saw Mikki’s mom’s car pull into the front of the house.

Andrea got out of the car, holding Danny’s hand and carrying a small bag. “There are a few more clothes in there, in case he gets into a mess,” she said, handing over the bag. “Thank you so much for doing this.” With that she was back in her car.

As soon as she was close enough, Rachael had dropped to her knees and enveloped the pretty little boy in a hug. “We are going to have lots of fun today, Danny. Okay?” She could feel fear and tension flow from the timid child, who smiled and said “Okay” back in a small voice.

“Mom, we have company,” Rachael called out as she led Danny, Bobby and Larissa into the tiny house. “It is like a doll house,” Danny said, looking around at the small living room. Larissa did not comment, but must have found the house small if she lived in one of the large houses near Mikki’s.

“Well hello, who have we here,” Maria said as she came in from the kitchen. “I’m making dinner tonight, since I was off today. I hope you don’t mind, Rachael.”

“Not at all, Momma. Meet Larissa, who walked home with us, and Danny, who will join us over supper. His Mom and Mikki are shopping for the sleepover.”

“Welcome Larissa. Rachael told me you just moved to Canada. How are you liking it so far?” Maria asked.

“Better, now that I am meeting new friends. And Rachael has shown me some better shops in the town.”

“Well enjoy it while the weather is nice. It won’t be too long before it is winter again, and I think that will be a change from France.”

“We have snow in France, but not much. Does it get very deep here?”

“No, in this part of Ontario the snow will come for a few days, but then no more for many days. Not like in the north where it might pile up into deep drifts. This is the warmest part of Canada.”

“Come on, Larissa,” Rachael said. “Let me give you the grand tour of the house. It will only take a minute. Do you want to come too, Danny?”

“Yes please,” a small voice said.

Rachael took them upstairs and showed them the three rooms and bath up there. Luckily Maria had made Bobby’s bed, and tidied up his room. Rachael’s room was usually kept neat, and the ‘master’ bedroom was as well.

After a few minutes Larissa left for home. Bobby was reading, and Maria was in the kitchen again. Rachael wanted to talk to her mother about the date, but decided it would have to wait until the kids were gone.

“So Danny, what do you want to do? You can read, like Bobby is, or maybe he will read for you. I could read to you if you like.”

“Did I see dollies up in your room?” the boy asked. “Can I play with them? My Daddy won’t let me play dollies at home, so I have to use my animals, and pretend.”

“Sure,” Rachael said. “I haven’t played with my dolls for a long time.” She led the little guy back upstairs, and they sat on the bed.

“So you like to play with dollies, do you?” she asked as she tried to remember the names of the various dolls from her memories.

“I used to have one, but when I went to school Daddy said I was too old, and he made me give it to Goodwill. Some little girl somewhere else is Ariel’s Mommy now.”

“Well, you can play with these dollies all you like, and if you come back and visit me, they will be waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” Danny said. “I like your room. It is very girly. Bobby’s room looked boyish to me. My room at home used to be nicer, but Daddy made me paint it blue when he took away my dolly. He said blue was a boy color.”

“Do you like blue?”

“Not as much as pink, but yellow is my favorite color.”

“Maybe because your hair is such a pretty shade of yellow. Blonde, they call it. You have pretty hair.”

“Your hair is very short, like a boy’s.”

“It used to be longer. And blonde, like yours. Look.” Rachael bent down and showed Danny where her hair was starting to come in blonde at the roots. “They call me Pepe at school because of that, because I look like a skunk, a bit.”

Danny giggled. “I like my hair long. Daddy doesn’t. He says it makes me look like a girl. Why doesn’t he like girls? He likes Mikki.”

“Would you like to be a girl,” Rachael asked: the million-dollar question.

“I … I think I am a girl, inside,” Danny said. “I just have a penis, that’s all.”

Wow. Classic transgendered response, Rachael thought. She wondered if she had been too leading with her questions. A professional really should talk to the boy. All she could do is provide a bit of support.

“Tell you what, Danny,” she said. “Some girls are named Danielle, and people shorten it to Danni too, but with an i at the end and not a y. How about I call you Danni with an i from now on, and you will know it means I think you are a girl.”

Danni’s eyes lit up. “Can I be a girl for other people too,” she asked.

“Well, you have to see doctors first. I am going to talk to your mother sometime after the sleepover and see if she can take you to one.”

“I don’t like doctors,” Danni said.

“I don’t either,” Rachael said. “But girls need doctors more than boys do. And it takes a doctor to find out if you are really a girl inside.”

“But I am!”

“Yes, but you need a doctor before you can become a girl for everybody else. It isn’t easy, but if you really want it, and your mom and a doctor will help you, you could become a girl.”

Just then Maria called them down to dinner. Bobby had set the table with four places.

Rachael said the prayer, holding a small hand in each of hers, with her mother at the other end of the table. “Dear Lord, please bless this food that Momma has made for us, full of love. And let Goldie and Rudolph be well, as well as our new Grandpa. And all of Danni’s family. And finally, let Danni and Bobby grow up into the fine adults they want to be. Amen.” Danni glowed at her in admiration at the thought of growing up to be the person she wanted to be.

Dinner was a simple spaghetti and sauce, using some of the mushrooms left over from the pizza last night. There had been under half a pizza left, and Bobby ate half of that, while the other piece was sliced and shared by Maria, Rachael, and Danni.

“Boys eat more,” she said with a wink to Danni.

After the meal Rachael said she had to wash dishes, and Danni insisted on helping. Rachael washed, while Danni stood on Bobby’s stool next to her and dried. In short order they had the dishes done, and then they went into the living room. There wasn't room for three on the easy chair, so all four of them wound up crowded together on the sofa to read. Bobby read a bit at first. Danny couldn’t read well, so Rachael just had him look through the words to find the letters in his name. When he got to the end of the name, he picked out an i.

“Oh, Sweety, I think you need a y for your name,” Maria said. Danni looked up at Rachel, and winked. “I like it with an i,” she said. Rachael took over the reading, using various voices that made the little ones giggle. Then Maria took a turn, also using voices.

A half hour later Mikki and Andrea appeared to pick Danni up. Andrea tried to pay Rachael, but the girl refused. Rachael made tea, and Mrs. Stoner and Maria had a short chat over tea and some of Rachael’s cookies.

After the Stoner’s left, Maria volunteered to clear the tea dishes up, and then called Rachael. Sitting on the counter near the door were two twenty-dollar bills.

“I said no money,” Rachael said. “Mrs. Stoner must have left that. It is too much, too.”

“I’ll say. If I could get $20 an hour I’d be baby sitting too.”

“What do I do?” Momma.

“You keep it,” Maria said. “It is a gift, and a very generous one. Andrea apparently thinks very highly of you, and wants you to be available to baby-sit for her at other times. If it bothers you, save a part of it, and use it to buy Mikki a present for Christmas or her birthday.”

“Okay. But I was just looking after Danni, I really like her … him.”

Maria laughed. “I keep thinking he is a girl too. Isn’t that hair adorable? And she … I mean he, is so cute. If you put him in a dress he would look beautiful. Although he would probably scream bloody murder if you made him wear a dress.”

“I’m not so sure,” Rachael said. “So tell me. How did the date go?”

Maria smiled enigmatically. “Good. I enjoyed myself. Dinner was lovely. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten in such a fancy place. And dancing after was fun. I probably had too much to drink, which is why I missed seeing you guys in the morning. It is so nice to have a daughter who can man the ship when I am a bit overboard.”

“You deserve it, Momma.”

“Anyway, Steve kept me till closing, and we had a lot of laughs and such. He was a gentleman, and brought me home. We kissed at the door.”

“And …?”

“And nothing. There was no spark. It was like kissing a brother. We just don’t connect in the way a couple needs to. Steve wants to take me out again, but I don’t know. I just don’t think Steve is the right guy for me.”

Rachael went and hugged her mother tightly. “Only you can decide who is right. Just don’t pick up a drunk or violent person please. Get someone that loves you, and loves Bobby and me. That’s is all I ask.”

“Honey, if he doesn’t love the two of you, then it is a deal breaker. Don’t worry on that score.”

That night, as Rachael went to bed, she prayed as usual. Most of her prayer was for Danni, who greatly worried the girl. But she also asked that her mother would meet someone who would ‘rock her world’.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

I started off thinking this would just be a short episode. But the characters took over, and made it about average length. Sleepover tomorrow! Dawn.

THURSDAY, May 5, 2016

It was another nice day, and Rachael wondered how long the streak of nice weather could go on. Eventually it would rain, and they would not be able to make the walk home. But her plan seemed to be succeeding, with Bobby showing more energy, and her own clothes didn’t feel so tight. Except perhaps her bra. She seemed to be growing up there a little. Not enough to need a larger size, but there just seemed to be more there up there.

On the bus to school she sat with Larissa while Mikki went to sit with the girls at the back. She seemed to be fitting in well in their little group, and Rachael thought that the other girls were now being nicer to others. Carly especially, was less of a ‘mean girl’ although Layla was still occasional sniped at others.

Larissa said she had gotten permission from her mother to walk home with the girls, not that she needed to get into shape like Mikki and Rachael did. The day went rather mundanely, although Mikki did say that she agreed to let Lucy come to the sleep over if she would bring her makeup kit. Michaela wouldn’t tell the others what Mrs. Stoner had planned for grab bags for the girls, but said that they would be awesome. Lucy actually hugged Rachael in thanks for getting her into the party at school later that day.

Rachael went to each of the seven other girls and got a list of ingredients that the girls wanted on their pizza. Then she used most of her math class to work out her formula for how to make three pizzas satisfy eight different people. She worked out a list of ingredients that she would need for making pizzas and baking both chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies for the gang. Mrs. Stoner would buy the ingredients tonight, or tomorrow morning.

It wasn’t like she was missing anything in math class by working on her own project: Grade 8 math is not all that challenging when you have already completed two years of university calculus.

By lunch she had a plan on another tack. She sent the girls to the table, then approached Mark Russett as he stood in line for mystery meals. “Hey Mark, are you dating anyone these days?”

He looked down at her, and shyly said “No, why?”

“Well, I know someone who would like to meet you. She is tall, gorgeous, and speaks perfect French.”

“You mean the new student? The one everyone is calling a freak?”

“She is not a freak. She is just tall. You are tall, you shouldn’t mind.”

“I think she is taller than me. And girls are supposed to be shorter.”

“You probably still have a growth spurt to go,” Rachael argued. “You will probably grow another four or five inches. Girls have their growth spurts younger, so she is probably not going to get any taller.”

“I dunno. She is pretty cute though,” the boy wavered.

“Cute? She is drop dead gorgeous. She used to be a model. Look at it this way: when you are old and retired, do you want to tell your grandchildren that you had a chance to date a supermodel in middle school, and you let the chance slip away.”

“Do you think she is going to be a supermodel?”

“Duh. She has a lot better chance of it than me, or any other girl in this school.”

“What should I do?”

“Come with me at lunch and I will introduce you. The gym is free today during lunch isn’t it?” Mark was on the school basketball team, and would know.

“Yeah, unless there are a few guys practicing shots.”

“Well she is trying to learn basketball. You volunteer to take her down and give her some pointers for the last half of the lunch hour.”

“Okay, where is she?” Mark had passed through the food line, and accompanied Rachael back to the table, who sat him down next to Larissa, and squeezed herself in next to Robert (nothing like getting a personal advantage out of helping a friend, is there?)

“Gang, this is Mark. Most of you know him, but Larissa doesn’t. Larissa meet Mark, Mark, this is Larissa.”

Rachael knew that conversation would be stilted with people new to each other, so she told Mark about the movie night she had planned next week. He said that he would like to come.

“Have you decided on what movie to show?” Mikki asked.

“I was thinking about Casablanca. It is an old one, but good, with a good plot and a mixture of war and romance.”

“Why not get Fast and Furious?” Neal, the chess nerd, suggested.

“Can’t. The library only has old movies. I don’t even think they have Star Wars,” Rachael explained. “But there are enough good old ones that we can go to at least the end of this term. I’m hoping we can start up again in September when we will all be in Grade 9. A lot of us will be allowed to date then, but it still will be hard getting into the good shows at the cinema until we are 14. Dates are no fun if you have to take an adult along.”

“How much will it cost?” Neal asked.

“I don’t know. I think maybe we will all chip in a dollar, and use the money to buy snacks. We can get a few big bags of popcorn at the dollar store, and then use paper plate bowls to share with our friends. But we will have to work a bit. We have to leave the place spotless at the end, so that means vacuuming and putting the chairs all back neatly. I think you guys will like the big vacuum cleaner. It is an industrial model.”

By now most of them were finished eating, and the chess boys pulled out their Euchre deck. Rachael turned to Larissa: “Mark was telling me the gym is free during lunch today, and he said he would give you some tips on basketball. Would you like that?”

“Yes, please,” she said, showing gratitude in her eyes.

“Come on then, let’s go shoot some hoops,” Mark said as he got up and led Larissa away.

“Okay,” they could hear her say as she followed him out. “What are hoops?”

At the end of the day, Larissa caught up with Rachael and gushed her appreciation. Apparently the hoops shooting had gone well.

“A couple times he would put his arms around me, to show me how to hold and shoot the ball,” she said. “I think he liked holding me. I really, really liked him holding me. He asked me to be his date for that movie thing you are doing. I think he really likes me. I really like him.”

“Mark?” Mikki said, coming by for the end of the conversation. “He is a really nice guy. Some guys who are good in sports let it go to their heads, and just want to be the star. Mark will pass the ball to an open teammate when he gets the chance. He likes to win, but he is a real team player.”

“Plus he is dreamy looking,” Larissa added.

“We wouldn’t know that down here on our level,” Mikki said. “We can’t see that high.”

You could see Larissa mentally translating that statement, trying to figure it out, and finally coming to the conclusion that it was a joke. She laughed.

“You are so cool,” Larissa. “We are going to have so much fun over the next few years. I worried a lot about making friends in Canada, but now that I have I think you guys are even better than my friends in France were.”

“Do you still keep in touch?” Rachael asked.

“I email them every now and then,” Larissa said. “At first I think my emails must have been real downers, because I was depressed and missing them. But now I must send new ones telling them all about you guys. And Mark.”

By that time they had picked up Bobby and Danni, who Mikki said had begged their mother to let him walk home with the gang. “Such a pretty girl,” Larissa said, and Mikki had to explain that Danni was a boy: a boy who ran and crashed into Rachael with a huge hug.

“Hi Danni,” she said, winking as she said her name so he would know she said it with the i. Danni then took her hand and refused to let it go as they walked.

When they got to the stores, Danni and Bobby each got an apple at DaSilva’s and then they walked to the end of the strip of stores, where they saw that two of the vacant stores looked to have action happening inside. The door was open at one, and they peeked in, seeing the place was full of paintings, with two men working on arranging things.

“Hello, come in,” a short jolly and chubby looking fellow said. “Look John, we have customers already. Are you interested in buying art for your home or business. We are Lenin and Macarthur, Art Dealers. John Macarthur at your service.

The other man was tall and lanky, towering over even Larissa. “Don’t tease the girls, John,” he said. “And do make sure that the little ones don’t touch anything with sticky fingers.”

“Bobby is very good about not touching things,” Rachael said. “And I’m sure Danni will be the same. Is this your first day open?”

“D-Day minus two,” John laughed. “We will officially open on Saturday, and then there will be a gala Grand Opening in September, when everyone is back from vacation. It is a bit late in the year to start a business, but we hope to be making money before Christmas.”

“Where do you get all the art from?” Mikki asked.

“Well, John is an artist, and a pretty good one if I do say so,” Paul said. “A lot of these are his works. The rest are from our friends in Toronto. We made a trip through Ingersoll a few years back, trying to find gas on a visit to London. We kinda loved the place, and when we found a beautiful cottage just out of town we sold our condo in Toronto and moved. Then we found the city was giving a great deal on rent to new businesses, and we decided to see if a studio would go.”

“London?” Larissa said questioningly.

“Not the one you are thinking of,” Rachael laughed. “There is another London just a few miles down the road. They have the university and all the big malls, if you don’t want to go to Toronto. Larissa just moved here from Paris, France,” she explained to the men.

“Paris? Be still my beating heart,” John said flamboyantly. “I love Paris. I wish I could afford to live there, and paint on the banks of the Seine. I think I have a painting of Notre Dame. It was from my Impressionist phase. Ah yes, here it is.”

He showed them a 20x30 inch canvas that was definitely impressionist, but still clearly the famous cathedral in early morning. Larissa’s eyes misted up looking at it, and Rachael could tell that she fell in love with the painting. Rachael gulped when she saw the price tag on it. It was $3000.

“That is beautiful,” Larissa said softly, mesmerized by the image. “I love it. I wonder if my father will buy it for my room. No, for the living room. The whole family will love it. I will have to tell my parents to come down here soon after you open. They are coming down to check out the other shops here anyway.”

“See, I told you that leaving the door open was a good idea,” John teased Paul. “Get a red sticker.” As he affixed it to the price tag, he said: “This means it is a conditional sale. If anyone else wants it, we will call you and you get first chance. But you will have to get papa down with his credit card if you want to take it home.”

“I will,” Larissa vowed, and Rachael just gulped. It would take her mother at least three years to save $3000, and even then it would be hard. But to Larissa this was an amount she felt comfortable in asking her father to pay. She was traveling with a totally different crowd with Mikki and Larissa.

“You mentioned the other shops. I have been in the library, checking out what art books they have,” John said. “What are the other places like?”

“DaSilva’s is like a vegetable market stall in Paris,” Larissa said. “They have a bit more, cheese, cold cuts, and a few groceries. “That is where the apples come from.”

“And the Bread Baron is the best bakery,” Rachael added. “We get the seven-grain bread from there. It tastes like cake, but is really healthy. And they carry a lot of other goodies as well.”

“I looked in their window and put on five pounds,” John laughed, rubbing his large belly. “But if they have healthy bread, maybe I should stop in.”

“Or I could stop in,” Paul said with a smile. “I will buy the bread, and maybe one treat. If you go in, you will clear their stock out.”

“Oh, what is that?” Rachael noted a huge painting at the back of the store. It was so large that the suspended ceiling had to be removed to let it stand up, and the store ceilings were 10-foot high.

“I am still working on it,” John said. “I haven’t had much time this last month, but there are a few hours for me to get the robes just right down at the bottom. We decided to put it out, even though it really is too large. I guess 10-foot is going to be my new maximum for large canvasses.

“It is stunning,” Rachael said. It was a painting of Christ. The pose was somewhat hackneyed, with his arms outstretched as if to invite you into his arms. But the painting, in a realism style, completely drew you in. The face seemed to radiate peace and love. Rachael immediately fell in love with it, and then saw the price tag on it said $30,000.”

“I think we might need another red sticker,” John said as he smiled at the reaction his work was having on the girl.

“I wish,” Rachael said. “Do you think you could let it go for $10 a week for 3000 weeks?”

John laughed. Paul did the calculations. “That is about 60 years, my dearest. You might be around at the end, but I doubt we will be.”

“That’s okay,” Rachael said. “It wouldn’t fit anywhere in my house anyway. But it is beautiful. You didn’t paint this,” she accused John. “God painted this through you. It is truly magnificent.”

John beamed at the compliment. “Well, if you can’t buy it, tell others about it. If it gets people into the shop, then they may buy something more affordable. I’ve been working on that for three years, off and on, which is why it is so expensive.”

The group left the shop and headed to the next one, which had a closed door. There was a sign on it that read: “Xcuts Hair Styling, Opening Soon.”

“Cool, we will have a hair place near the schools,” Mikki said. “Most of the places in town seem to cater to old ladies with blue hair. The name Xcuts makes me think that this place will focus on a younger crowd. I can’t wait till they open.”

As they walked on from the stores, Mikki asked “Did those two art guys seem a little funny to you?”

“Well, they were gay, if that is what you mean?” Larissa said.

“What? Really?”

“Oh sure. There were all kinds of gay people in the modeling world in Paris,” the tall girl said. “You learn to tell which ones.”

Rachael had to agree. She had not noticed it at all while in the store, but in retrospect it was pretty clear that the two were partners in more than just business.

The group found Grandpa sitting on his porch, with a big smile. “Another jeune fille,” he said. Rachael did the introductions, and then spent some time with the old man before going in to check the sandwich supply. He still had two remaining, so she decided to restock him on the weekend.

Only then did she go next door, with little Danni following like a puppy. Bobby came over to walk Rudolph, but Danni chose to stay with Rachael. He did pet Goldie, who was coming along wonderfully, and was trying to lick both Rachael and Danni’s faces. The little tyke giggled when the dog succeeded.

Goldie got a few licks in with Rachel as well as she investigated inside his leg, and found the bone completely healed. The cast could come off on the weekend, but it would have to be Sunday, she told Miss Lajoie.

They went to the door, although Danni stayed for a few more seconds by Goldie’s crate to get more attention from the beautiful animal. “I have to get someone to do M. Verdun’s lawn,” Rachael said. It was growing like crazy in the spring weather. If he didn’t have someone cut it, the city would, and add the considerable cost to his taxes.

“I need to get mine done too,” Miss Lajoie said. “But the cost is just so high.”

“Do you think you could trade guitar lessons for cutting the grass?” Rachael asked.

“But Bobby is too little,” she said.

“Yes, but I was thinking about one of the boys from my grade at school. Piano lessons would not impress them, but guitar would.”

“If you could find someone, that would be wonderful,” the teacher said.

“I’ll let you know. Maybe tomorrow, although that is going to be a busy day for me.”

This time when they got to the Cartright house there were three who continued on, with Danni finally letting go of Rachael’s hand. Inside it was a normal evening, with Maria at work again. Bobby had his carrot and celery soldiers, and Rachael prepped and roasted a small chicken she had bought at the big store on the weekend. She wanted to make Chicken Noodle soup for Grandpa on the weekend, once the family had gotten a meal or two from the carcass.

Bobby made his salad, and when Maria came home it was to a delicious aroma again.

“You spoil me, Rachael,” her mother said. “I had all day off yesterday and you guys only got spaghetti and warmed-over pizza. You are in school all day and still manage to cook a feast for us.”

“You deserve to be spoiled,” Rachael said. “You do so much for us. We are a team, and you are the captain. I’m just cook and chief bottle washer.”

“And I make the sallid,” Bobby chirped in.

Over dinner Rachael casually mentioned that she nearly bought a painting today. When she told the asking price, her mother nearly choked. “I offered $10 a week, but they turned me down,” Rachael said with a smile. “We have no place to show it here anyway. It is almost 12 feet high. But Momma, it is so beautiful. It is Christ, and he looks so welcoming and peaceful. You have to come down and look at it before they sell it.”

“Well, I suspect they won’t sell it quickly in Ingersoll at that price. You can buy a house with that kind of money. Or at least put a down payment on one. But I will come see it when you have time. Will that be this month, or next month?”

“Yeah, it is busy right now,” Rachael admitted. “Once the sleepover is done we should be back to normal. Are you good with picking up Bobby at the Stoner’s?”

“Yes, I can get off the bus near their home, and then we can walk back. I’ll probably have to get some “greasy spoon” food from the café for supper. As I said, I am spoiled now.”

“You won’t need treats for him. I plan to bake my cookies first, so he will get one or two of those to tide him over until you get home. Try to get him something healthy, if you can.”

“Okay. And there is no reason why the two of us can’t make a salad too.”

“Good.”

That night Bobby got a good long read of Harry Potter, and Rachael cleared up all her homework. She now had finished assignments for all her teachers, and was hopeful of getting mostly Bs and Cs, unlike the Ds and Fs that the old Rachael had been looking towards.

That night her prayer for the evening was that tomorrow’s sleepover would go well. Mikki had so much invested into it that any kind of disaster would really hurt the poor girl.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Here it is, the long awaited sleepover episode. (Well, not so long, this is only the 12th episode of a story that was first posted a couple weeks ago.) Enjoy. Dawn.

FRIDAY, May 6, 2016

Rachael woke to the sound of raindrops on the windowpane. The spell of good weather was over, and on the day of the sleepover as well. Oh well, it wasn’t as though they had been planning outdoor activities.

That morning, as Rachael served up Bobby his French Toast, she warned him to not wait for her to walk home, and to take the bus instead. Rachael would be taking the middle school bus, and it left several minutes before the primary school bus.

“What will you do if you forget, and the bus leaves, and then I don’t show up because I took my bus home?” she quizzed the boy.

Bobby was at a loss. “Walk home alone?” he suggested.

“Wrong. Do you know the way?”

“No I don’t. What should I do Rachael?”

“Well, first of all, don’t miss the bus. But if you do, then you go into the school and tell them in the office. You will have to wait for me to get home, and then they can phone me, and I will have to walk in the rain to get you, and you will have to walk home in the rain. And I will not be very happy about it. So don’t forget. Get on the bus.”

“Okay.”

“And if for some reason you can’t get into the school to get them to call me, you could walk to the library. It is close enough you wouldn’t get lost. Do you know the phone number here?”

“Bobby thought. 555-1212?”

“That’s right. The library will let you call me, or they will call me. But the best way to do it is to not forget. You and Danni will need to take the bus today. You are the big boy, so it is up to you to remember. Okay.”

“Okay.”

“That was amazing,” Maria said. “You just walked him through what could be a problem. You are born to be a mother, you know?”

“I guess I am,” Rachael said. “I just don’t want him to get stranded. It would be nice if the primary school bus went first, and I could make sure he was on it, but then he would get home before me and have to wait for me to unlock the door.”

Rachael walked Bobby to the bus stop with her umbrella, but really didn’t need to, as the boy ran off into the rain to splash in mud puddles. He had a yellow raincoat on, with a small sou’wester hat and big boots, so he should be fairly dry when he got to school. Rachel just stayed at the bus stop until her ride came rather than walking back to the house in the rain.

Of course today the bus seemed to be late. It always was. If she was late, it would have been early, but the rain seemed to have slowed things down for the driver. Not that driving was any harder – it was not a hurricane kind of storm. But everyone seemed to wait at their door ‘til they saw the bus, and then hurried out for it, causing delays at most stops.

Rachael was finally at school. Mikki was wound up tighter than a top, fussing about her party tonight, and Larissa was nearly as bad. Larissa had promised to go straight to Mikki’s after school to help set up. Rachael was also going early, but had to stop off at her house and wait for Bobby. Then they would walk to the Stoner house, where Rachael wanted to get started with her baking. The other girls were supposed to come at 8 p.m., but Rachael knew that at least some of them would be fashionably late.

There was Phys. Ed., today, and Ms. Smith was impressed at the improvement Larissa had made in only two days. Her shooting and ball handling skills were much better. Ms. Smith congratulated Rachael on the improvement, but she then was told that Larissa had been practicing with the captain of the boy’s basketball team.

The result was that in the game at the end of the class, Rachael’s team won handily, 28-14 over a team that had creamed them 21-7 just a week ago. Rachael had either herself or Larissa on the floor at all times. Larissa didn’t have the strategy or ball smarts to be a point guard like Rachael, but her size intimidated the other team, and she was unstoppable with a layup. During the few minutes that had both Rachael and Larissa on the floor together the team dominated the competition. But Rachael still made sure that all the other players still got time on the floor, and they all played much better than before. At the end of the game they were ecstatic. They were no longer the misfits and they celebrated into the shower room and then all the way to lunch.

During lunch Rachael went over to the cool kids table where Carly was sitting with Leon Michaels, the boy who Rachael had set her up with. “Leon,” she said. “You said the other day that ‘you owed me one’ for setting you up with Carly. I have an idea how you can repay me.”

“How?”

“Well, my Grandpa is too old to cut his grass, and it is getting really long. I think a neighbor cut it once this year, but it is like a hayfield again. I wondered if you could cut it. Do you have a lawnmower?”

“My dad does. Just an old gas mower. I’ve thought about cutting grass for summer spending money. This might get me started. I guess doing one cut for free won’t hurt.”

“Actually, I could have a second customer for you too. It is the lady right next door to him. But she wouldn’t be a freebie. She is a music teacher, and said she would trade you guitar lessons in return for cutting her grass this summer.”

“That would be awesome,” Leon said. “I would love to learn to play. Then in high school, I could get a band going.”

“And with two customers, you would be able to tell other people that you are a business. You just walk along and look for the places that have long grass, and rap on the door and ask if they want it cut. Some people would even pay a few dollars to get you to do it if they were busy, or lazy. I’ll bet by the time school is out you would have a lot of customers.”

“And a lot of money for dates,” Carly said with wide eyes. “Thanks again Rachael. You are the best.”

The rest of the day went smoothly, although Mikki was increasingly distracted. At the end of the day, Larissa and Rachael practically had to pour her onto the bus home.

After Rachael got off, in rain that was now more drizzle than the downpour of the morning, she went to the house and got things ready for Bobby. There wasn’t much she needed, but she did get him the last cookie of the batch, since she knew he would be hungry and it would be at least an hour before the cookies were out of the oven at the Stoner’s.

Minutes later Bobby arrived, and she didn’t even let him get out of his rain gear. She just congratulated him on remembering to take the bus, and then they headed towards the Stoner house, with Bobby again needing to splash in every rain puddle he came across.

Once they got to the huge house, Andrea Stoner let them in, saying that Mikki and Larissa were down in the basement. As soon as Bobby was out of his wet things, he made a beeline for Danni’s room and its PlayStation.

“Do you want to go down to join the girls, or work up here in the kitchen? I’ve gotten everything from your list.”

“Actually, Mrs. Stoner, I’d like to talk to you for a minute or two first. It is about Danni. Have you noticed that he acts a little girlish?”

“Yes, but don’t say anything in front of his father. Bob just hates it.”

“Have you ever considered taking Danni to a child psychiatrist, or psychologist? I was talking to him the other day, and he told me that he felt he was a girl inside. This is classic language for a transsexual child.”

Mrs. Stoner gasped. “I wondered about that. He has told me the same thing on occasion, but whenever he mentioned it to his father Bob would be furious. He has resisted ‘sending his son to a two-bit shrink’ as he puts it. Do you think it is serious?”

“I do. I wouldn’t know so much about this, except that I had a cousin named Earl, who I discovered was really Emily. We were friends from when she was 11 until she turned 15. She suffered greatly by having to pretend to be a boy, and finally, when puberty struck she decided it was too much. She took her own life.”

Mrs. Stoner gasped again. “Could that happen to Danny?”

“Not at his age, usually,” Rachael said. “But when he gets older, and feels more and more ‘wrong’ the chances will keep growing. He might become depressed, and act out in other ways too.” She pulled up her sleeves and showed Mrs. Stoner the cut mark scars on her arms. “I had different problems, but before I found Jesus I did this to myself because I hated who I was.”

The woman’s eyes got wide looking at the scars. “I didn’t know you had it so bad, Rachael. Since Mikki and I have known you, you seem to be so stable and sensible.”

“It can be that fine a line with mental health, ma’am,” Rachael said, rolling her sleeves back down. “That is why I think you need to have Danni see a doctor. It might not be transsexualism or gender dysphoria. But if it is, you can save him, or her, a lot of pain and angst by having her see someone regularly.”

“He is my baby,” Mrs. Stoner said. “I will do everything I can for her. I will talk with Bob tonight.”

“You might want this,” Rachael handed her the memory stick. There are a lot of links and files on this I got from the Internet at school. You might want to read through some of them, during the lulls in the roar of the party.”

“Thank you for this,” she said, taking the stick. “Now I want you to enjoy the party. I will look after Danni.”

Rachael went down to the basement studio and put her sleeping bag and backpack along the wall next to Larissa’s and Mikki’s. The girls were setting up the lights for the photo shoot, and had put tape down on the carpet to form ‘walls’. “This area will be for makeup,” Mikki said. “This is the studio. It is important that nobody is in this area while I am shooting. Having too many people around here could mean lights could get knocked over, and they are expensive. And dangerous: when they have been on for a while they will burn you if you touch the wrong parts. This area is the catwalk, for those who want to do a model’s strut, and over there is the dressing room. I hope no one is shy, because these ‘walls’ are only a millimeter high,” she giggled. The later area had several clothing racks set up, with all of Mikki’s late aunt Susan’s costumes, wigs, boots and shoes. On a shelf sat the three sets of breast forms, and a collection of bras along with some hats and other accessories.

“Too bad the other girls aren’t coming all at once, or we could each put on a set of boobs to surprise them,” Rachael said.

“Oh, that would be so cool,” Mikki picked up on the idea. “We can each put one on now, and leave them in until the last girl comes, then we will let them have a chance to try them.”

“If we do, I want the smallest set,” Rachael said. “I’m going to be upstairs baking and prepping the pizzas, and I don’t want to burn a boob on a hot pan because it is sticking out more than I am used to.”

Larissa lost the argument over who would wear the huge set. On her taller body they would blend in better, or at least that was the excuse that Mikki went with. Each girl found an appropriate bra, and then Rachael left them to go to the kitchen while they monkeyed around with camera’s and lights.

At about a quarter to eight Lucy rang, and stopped and gaped when she saw Rachael's enhanced chest. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” Rachael quipped, and sent her downstairs where Lucy could be heard squealing with glee at the sight of the other two girls. Lucy had a corner of the studio reserved for her to do makeup for the other girls.

Rachael was just taking a batch of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven when Janice arrived just after eight. She also giggled at the sight of Rachael, who was starting to get used to the feeling of the breast forms. “It smells wonderful up here,” she said. “What are you making?”

“That is the first batch of cookies. I expect it will lure some young boys down in three, two, and there they are.” Bobby and Danni appeared in the kitchen.

“You have boobies,” Danni said with a gasp, looking at Rachael with a longing look in his eyes.

“They aren’t as big as Mommas,” Bobby noted. “How did you get boobies so fast?”

“They aren’t real,” Rachael said. “They are pretend boobies. Now I know you boys want a cookie, but these are too hot. You go back upstairs and play. Danni, show Janice to the studio, won’t you?”

“Can I come back and help?” she asked, and Rachael couldn’t say no to that cute face.

“Okay honey, but take Janice down.”

Danni was back a minute later, and with the two of them alone in the kitchen, she felt safe in asking: “Can I have boobies too? If I have boobies, everyone will know I am a girl.”

“No honey, you are too little. If your mother takes you to a doctor, and he or she says that you are really a girl, then they have shots or pills that will help you grow boobies of your own, when you are a teenager like Mikki and me. When you are that old you can have fake boobies too, if you think the ones you grow on your own are too small.”

“I don’t like shots,” Danni said. “But I would get them if it gives me boobies.”

Carly, Layla and Becca arrived at about a quarter past eight. Danni had just taken cookies up to Bobby, and then some to the girls downstairs, where he was astonished to see the even bigger breast forms her sister and Larissa were wearing.

She was back up, wide-eyed to lead the last three girls down to the studio. Rachael had another batch of cookies in the oven, but felt she had enough time to stop downstairs and switch out of her enhanced torso and back to normal. This was not to be, as the girls insisted she switch into another, larger set of breasts, and then she had to run upstairs to get her cookies out before they burned. Of course that was when Maria arrived to take Bobbie home.

“My goodness, Rachael. Is that you?” Maria said in surprise.

“Yes Momma,” she said, looking down at the huge breasts poking out the front of her t-shirt. The girls made me do it. Do you want to come down and see our setup? You know Bobby is going to have to finish a level or something.”

“Momma alert,” Rachael called as she started down the stairs. “This is where all the action is. So far I have mostly been in the kitchen, but the girls are going great guns down here.”

“Hi, Rachael’s Mom,” Carly said while wearing a black cat suit, complete with tail and ears. “You are so young. You could be one of the girls at the sleepover, instead of a Mom. Except you wouldn’t need any fake boobs. Your’s are awesome.”

“Thanks sweetheart,” Maria said. “I think there is an estrogen overload down here. I feel like I need to escape.”

“No,” called out Mikki from her camera station. “Over here. I want a picture of the two of you.” Maria and Rachael complied, and posed as Mikki directed then in several poses, ending up with one where Rachael hugged her mother, with fake breasts smashing into real ones of about the same size.”

“Hurry back down,” Janice called as the two headed up the stairs. “I need your boobies for the Jessica Rabbit costume.”

Bobby was still on his game, when they got back up. An ashen-faced Mrs. Stoner came out to greet her guest. “Are you alright, Andrea?” an alarmed Maria asked.

“Yes. No. I’m not sure. Rachael has given me some things to read, and they are somewhat alarming. I am being a poor host though. Can I get you something? Coffee, tea? There are some of your daughter’s incredible cookies.”

Just then Bobby appeared at the stairway above. “Do I have to go home? Danny says I can sleep over with him.”

“Yes honey, we have to go home. You wouldn’t want your poor tired mother to have to go home all alone to an empty house, would you?” She turned to Andrea. “Sorry, but its been a long day. Perhaps I will take a rain check on the coffee, and leave you to the madness down there.”

After Maria and Bobby left (the boy with another cookie in hand), Mrs. Stoner turned to Danni and asked if he had put away all the games Bobby had been playing. The little sprite jumped up and ran up the stairs to clean up her room.

“What I have been reading, is it all true?” the woman asked. “So many young lives, over. Just like that?”

“As far as I know it is all true,” Rachael said. “Things are better now, and I understand the younger a person transitions, the better. There is a TV show about a girl named Jazz, and she looks really good. You should watch it.”

“I guess I should. I wonder if Netflicks has it? You go back to your party sweetheart. Thanks for everything you have done. I will definitely be talking to Bob about this. Not asking him. Telling him that Danny is going to see a doctor. If there is nothing wrong, fine. But I won’t allow my son … child to become another one of these statistics.”

Rachael went down to the studio with another big plate of cookies, only to be mobbed by the girls. Most of them took one or two of the cookies, while Janice reached into her shirt and pulled out the breast forms she was wearing, leaving Rachael with a largely empty bra flopping around under her t-shirt.

She went over to the dressing area and pulled the bra off, only to have another girl grab it. Rachael went over to Lucy, who made her sit down. “You are the only one I haven’t done,” her former nemesis said. “I know you used to do the Goth thing, so I want to try something lighter with you. Hold still.”

“Have you just been sitting here the whole time?” Rachael asked in surprise. “You are a guest, just like everyone else. You should be dressing up and enjoying yourself, like the rest. We love that you are doing our makeup, but you need to have some fun too.”

“Rachael, I am having the most fun I have ever had in my life,” the girl replied. “I love doing this, and I really love all the girls. I chummed around with Carly a few years ago, but the rest of you are just great. I was missing so much by thinking that I was better than you. Mikki is a riot. I did go over and get my picture taken in a couple of outfits when no one needed makeup. Mostly it is just touch ups now. And Larissa: did you know she is a model? She has been showing all the girls the moves. And she even helped me with the makeup, suggesting I tone it down, and let each girl’s personality shine through, rather than trying to paint a new face over their’s.”

“Well, so long as you are having fun.”

“Says the girl who has been upstairs half the time making treats for us. Your cookies are amazing. I can’t wait ‘til the pizza comes out.”

“Oh, here is your grab bag. Mrs. Stoner got us each one. It is awesome, full of cosmetics. Good stuff too.”

“Well, I don’t have to go back up for that for another hour or so, I … oh my God, oh my God.” Rachael had just seen Janice in the Jessica Rabbit costume. She had all three sets of breast forms crammed into the largest bra, and really looked like the cartoon character, down to the long red wig she was wearing, and the prop cigarette holder.

“Everybody has had a chance in that one,” Lucy said. “Except you. Nobody else gets boobs while someone is doing a Jessica, so we all kinda sit around and cheer them.”

“I don’t know if I want to try that one,” Rachael said. “Boobs that big would be … difficult.”

“I saw your Mom, girlfriend,” Lucy said. “I think you better get used to the idea of big boobs, whether you like them or not.”

Rachael went to the costume area and picked out a Victorian gown, and started to put it on.

“No, no, no,” Carly said, coming over teetering on the six inch stripper heels. “You have to wear this, if you want to wear that.” She tossed over a cream-white garment.

“What is this? Is it a …”

“A corset. Yes. It goes with that outfit. Let me help you put it on. A teetering Carly, who was nearly as tall as Larissa in those shoes, or would be if Larissa hadn’t been wearing four-inch heels like she was born in them, helped Rachael into the constricting torture device. Then, as she was pulling the device tight, she slipped on her heels, and pulled especially hard on the laces to prevent falling. She recovered and then tied the laces.”

“There, now you can try on the dress,” Carly said.

“I can’t breathe,” Rachael said in a whisper.

“Nonsense. We have all worn it. Look in the mirror. A waistline.”

Rachael did look, and was astonished to see that the corset had indeed pushed all her baby fat away and she now had a feminine figure, albeit with empty bra cups above. She decided that she was not dying from lack of air, so she continued. Janice had just finished with her Jessica Rabbit shoot, and all the girls came over to help Rachael into her first costume. “Which set of boobs do you want?” Janice asked.

“The small ones?”

“No way,” Becca called out. “They will disappear into that corset. Use the big ones.”

In the end Rachael took the middle pair, and two different girls each put one in, and then massaged it into position. Another two girls then helped her into a petticoat, and then into the dress itself, with it’s bustle rear hanging on her own natural bustle.

This is so weird, Rachael thought as she looked at the selection of wigs. There was a Marie Antoinette wig that seemed to go with the outfit, but it was one of the cheaper wigs, so instead she took the long red wig that Janice had used with Jessica Rabbit. Janice had been the last of the girls to wear that outfit, and Rachael didn’t intend to try it. Finally, in a three-inch pair of court shoes, Rachael teetered over to Mikki, who was doing something on the computer.

“That looks fantastic, Rach,” Mikki said as she started clicking away, suggesting poses and looks for her BFF to try.

“Are you stuck back here behind the camera all night?” Rachael asked.

“No. Larissa knows how to use the camera, so I took a couple breaks and tried out some costumes. I was the first one in the Jessica Rabbit costume. Or at least the first one with all the boobs. Man, is it every heavy with all that weight up there. It nearly knocks you over. There are butt pads for it too, with double layers of stuff in there to add several inches to your butt. I used the corset for it too. Most of the other skinny girls didn’t need to.”

“I think I will take a pass on that outfit,” Rachael said.

“Oh no, you can’t. I’m planning a montage of all of us in that same outfit, lined up across the picture. If it turns out, it will be awesome.”

“We’ll see.”

Rachael went through two or three more costume changes, and finally was wearing the cat suit when she went up stairs to make pizza. Danni went up to her, and hugged her, playing with her tail. “I like that one the best,” the little blonde said.

“Well, it is all me,” Rachael said. “I left all the boobies downstairs. Do you want to help me make pizza?”

“Yes please,” the small girlish voice said. Rachel had made her biscuit bases for the pies earlier, and had prepped all the ingredients, so she and Danni just had to sprinkle the toppings on the tomato sauce, with Rachel being careful to make sure that her little helper was keeping the various ingredients in the proper positions.

Andrea came in as they were sprinkling on the mozzarella. She came up to Danni from behind and gave her a deep hug. Rachael knew what she was thinking. A girl Danni is better than a dead son. “Can you put Danni’s in first,” she said. “It is way past her bedtime.” Rachael noted the change in her use of pronoun. Then she looked up at the clock. It was a few minutes past midnight. Wow, she hadn’t realized it was so late. And all the cookies had kept the girls from getting hungry.

That changed as the smells of the first two pizzas cooked, with the aromas curling down the stairs to the studio and hooking one girl after the other, bringing them up to the kitchen like a cartoon scene. When the first two pizzas came out, one Hawaiian was vegetarian, and one half Canadian (mushroom, pepperoni and bacon), with the other half without mushrooms. Danni and all the girls got a slice to munch on when Rachael sliced each pie into eight pieces. Several girls were on second and third slices when the third all dressed pie came out of the oven.

“Rachael, you have spoiled me for pizza,” Carly fake-complained. “How can I ever eat the dreck from a pizzeria after tasting this.” The others agreed.

Danni went to bed part way through the feast, hugging all the girls before she left. “Your sister is super cute,” Lucy commented and Mikki was about to say that Danny was a boy when Rachael interrupted.

“Mikki, did you know that the sauce on these pizzas is Mamma DaSilva’s old family recipe?”

“She gave you the recipe?” Mikki asked in amazement.

“No she said I would have to marry Tony to get that, and I’m leaving him for you. She made up a jar of sauce for the party though. There is enough left in the jar that I think you can make a spaghetti feast for your family.”

“I will,” Mikki promised.

“The Italian kid’s mother made this?” Layla said rudely. “They are just immigrants.”

“They run the best shop in town for a lot of stuff,” Rachael defended her friends. “All the ingredients for the pizza came from there, and they have the best fruits and vegetables in town.”

“Immigrants,” Layla snorted quietly although she wondered if she shouldn’t check out the little store.

Somehow the girls got talking about the Bread Baron next, as well as the other stores along that block. When it was mentioned that Xcuts Hair Salon was opening soon, the girls all squealed in delight. Just the sound of the name made it seem like a cool place to get a haircut or style. Rachael just sighed. Her short hair would take months more to grow before it needed styling.

After lying around after pizza, the girls seemed to get a second wind. When the options of watching a movie on Netflicks, or going back down to the studio came, the vote was nearly unanimous to go back down.

“But I wanted to see a movie,” Rachael complained.

“No, you have to do a Jessica Rabbit,” Mikki insisted. “I left a spot for you between Larissa and me in my montage plan. It will look stupid with a gap there, and the two of us holding on to an invisible Rachael.”

Rachel was again forced into the corset, although this time it was not tied so tightly. “This would have been better on an empty stomach,” she gasped as the device was laced. Then she was poured into the dress. Apparently for that dress it worked best if you put the boobs in after getting the dress on, and Rachael felt several hands pushing and squeezing the three sets of boobs into position.

Then it was over to Lucy, who touched up her makeup, making her look particularly vampish. The red wig completed the look, and then they went over to the camera position. “Larissa, put on the shoes you wore when you did your Jessica costume. Mikki then posed Rachael meticulously, moving her an inch this way and then an inch that way. Larissa stood close to her on the left and Rachael was told to put her hand around the taller girl’s waist. Mikki focused, and determined everything was right, and then got up and went to stand on her right, with Rachael putting her hand on Mikki’s shoulder, holding the cigarette holder.

“Okay, now you just have to hold that pose while Larissa and I disappear.” With that Mikki darted back to the camera, and Larissa moved away, leaving Rachael with her hands in the air as she snapped away. “Your cigarette hand is drooping. Raise it about a half inch,” the photographer ordered and clicked again. “That’s it. Perfect.”

Rachael then put the cigarette holder to her lips and mimed taking a long drag, which the other girls found hysterical.

The dress up continued for another hour, until the lights at the top of the stairs flicked on and off several times. “All right girls, that’s enough. It is 2 a.m. Time to actually get some sleep into this sleepover.”

It actually took another half hour to get things ready. The photography lights had to be turned off, and the camera put away. There was a stream of trips to the small basement washroom, and Lucy made sure that everyone used cleanser to wipe the makeup off their faces. Sleeping bags were rolled out, and everyone finally settled down. Within minutes Rachael could tell that most of the girls had fallen asleep instantly. No one snored, but they were all sleeping deeply.

Lord

Thank you for such a wonderful night. We have all made friends, new and old and I’m sure we are all better together than apart. Please help Mrs. Stoner and Danni.

Amen

Then she heard a gasp beside her. It was Carly, not quite asleep. “What was that?” she whispered.

“I was just praying, thanking God for such a wonderful fun time.”

“I’ve never prayed before,” Carly said. “Do you think I could?”

“Sure. I’m certain that you can. Some people pray just to ask for things, but I think it works best if you thank God for what he has done for you, and only ask for really important things, like for people to be kept healthy.”

Rachael heard some mumbling from the other girl, and then a gasp. “Oh my, I just felt a sort of warm feeling run through me.”

“I get that too,” Rachael said. “I think it means that the prayer was received.”

And with that she felt the same warm feeling course through her. Minutes later she was asleep.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

This is the second last of the daily episodes, I think. I have one more episode almost done, and it will run on Sunday. After that they might not come daily, but I am really enjoying writing this story, so it won’t be long between episodes: Dawn.

SATURDAY, May 7, 2016

Rachael was one of the first girls to wake up in the Stoner’s photography studio. She made a beeline to the bathroom, knowing that seven other girls would want to be using it soon. She dressed in the clothes she had in her bag, and then crept upstairs.

“Ah, the first of the zombies awakens,” Mrs. Stoner said with a smile.

“She is Rachael, not a zombie,” little Danni retorted as she ate her breakfast. Which turned out to be an early lunch. It was past 11 a.m.

“Hungry?” Mrs. Stoner asked.

“I could use food,” Rachael said. “But you don’t need to make anything. The mix I used to make the pizza dough last night also makes great pancakes. Let me whip up a batch of batter, and I’ll feed the girls as they come up.”

“Can I have a pancake?” Danni asked.

“Sure cutie. I will make a little one for you, since you have already had some cereal.” She mixed up a batch of batter, and made full cakes for herself and Mrs. Stoner, and a half-sized one for Danni.

“You are an amazing girl, Rachael,” Mrs. Stoner said. “I can only thank you for what you did for us last night.” She used her eyes to indicate the ‘us’ meant Danni and her.

Rachael finished eating just as she heard someone downstairs use the washroom, so she put two more pancakes on. Then as they heard another flush, she made another pair of pancakes. As each girl came up stairs she was handed a plate with two pancakes on it, and allowed to choose their topping: butter, syrup, or icing sugar.

“You made pancakes?” Mikki said as she came up to see Larissa, Carly and Layla all eating around the table. Rachael handed her a plate, and then Lucy and Janice soon followed. Finally Becca came up, her hunger overcoming her desire to sleep. “I’m still tired,” she moaned. “But it smells so good.”

“You were all up pretty late last night,” Mrs. Stoner said with a smile. “All of us were. I hope you had fun, but we won’t be doing it again soon.”

“Mrs. Stoner, on behalf of all the girls, I would like to thank you for putting up with us. I know we were up late, and noisy, but this was the most awesome sleepover in the entire history of Ingersoll. Mikki is great, and we are glad you all moved here from Toronto,” Carly said.

“Why thanks Carla,” the touched Mrs. Stoner said. She knew that Carly was one of the girls who had shunned her daughter for the past half year, and to hear her speak that well of her warmed the woman’s heart.

Over the next half hour to an hour, parents came by to pick up their kids after getting phone calls. Mikki went back to bed, in her own bed upstairs, after everyone had left. Larissa and Rachael were last to leave, with Rachael getting a big hug from Danni before she left.

Larissa only lived three doors down, but on the way for Rachael, so the latter girl got a chance to see her house. Larissa invited her in, but Rachael begged off, wanting to get home. But even from the outside she could see that the house was as big as the Stoner’s or larger. A $3000 painting would fit nicely into such a place, she realized.

At home Bobby was already up, a little grumpy that he had not had a chance to read Harry Potter last night. Rachael promised him a long session tonight. She also suggested that a trip to see Grandpa was in order. Rachael put her chicken soup on to simmer in a big pot on the stove, and told Bobby to get his baseball and gloves. They could go to the park after stopping at Grandpa’s. She also packed up cold cuts and fixings for more sandwiches for Grandpa.

After making 5 more sandwiches for the old man, who sat in his chair and chatted with her all the time she was in the kitchen, Rachael and Bobby went to Miss Lajoie’s to release Goldie from her prison.

Rachael carefully chipped the cast off. “It would have been better if we could have shaved the leg first,” she said. “There are going to be little chips of plaster stuck to her leg for a while. You can snip them off with scissors, just cutting the hair they cling too. I’m only going to take off the big stuff.

As she worked, the dog was calm and peaceful, and Rachael could see within her to find that the bone had healed perfectly, and now seemed as good as new. When Rachael had the last of the cast off, Goldie got up and tentatively walked around the room, realizing that it was gone. They she leapt up to kiss Rachael, then Miss Lajoie and started to roll around on the yard with Bobby and Rudolph.

“Did you want me to start his lessons today?” Miss Lajoie asked.

“Yes, do.” Rachael said. “I will go to the store. Did you have a list for me?”

“I do, and here is $40. Let me know if it is more than that.”

“I will. And perhaps if Bobby gets bored, or restless, you can promise him that he can walk the dogs after if he is good. He is an easy boy to motivate. Oh yes, I found a boy who is interested in cutting your lawn in return for guitar lessons. He said he will be around tomorrow.”

“Thank you sweetheart.”

Rachael went back to Grandpa and got his list, and the last $20 he pulled from his little purse. She then walked quickly to the store, and soon had a full cart of groceries. Mrs. Lajoie’s bags cost $38.55, and Grandpa’s cost $28.54, mostly because she insisted on buying additional things for him that weren’t on the list. Her family’s groceries came to nearly $80, which were covered by the money her mother had given her this morning. The taxi ride home was a two-parter, with the cabbie waiting at the Cartright house while she put her groceries away, gave her soup a good stir, and then they went to the Lajoie house, where Bobby’s lesson was over, and he was out walking the dogs. Rachael then took Grandpa his groceries, and put them away, tucking the old man in for his afternoon nap before going to get Bobby.

“Remember, dinner tomorrow night at our place. The Legion man will come pick you up at the usual time,” she called out as she left.

“Miss Lajoie thinks you did really well on the piano for a first time,” Rachael said as she walked Bobby to the park. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah, it is neat. It is a row of buttons, and when you push the buttons, you get to make noise. And if you do it right, the noise is music.“ He then played Chopsticks on air-piano. “Like this.”

“Good. You keep it up, and you will get to be really good, and you can play for Momma, and she will be so proud of you. We are proud of you anyway, but if you can do something special like play piano, we will be even more proud. So, do you want to go to the park and play some ball?”

“Okay. Is Mikki coming?”

“No, I think Mikki will be just getting out of bed now,” Rachael laughed. “She had a late night. It will just be us.”

“I am better now,” Bobby said. “The boys who play ball at school say I am good enough to play with them. I’m still outfield, but at least I get to play. I can’t hit very good though.”

“Oh, I wish I knew,” Rachael said. “We could have brought the baseball bat and practiced hitting. Maybe tomorrow, if the weather is nice again.”

“Yeah, I don’t like the rain. I didn’t get to play ball. Recess was in the gym.”

Bobby’s skills with the ball and glove were greatly improved. He no longer feared the ball, and could look it into the glove from any distance. Rachael made him stand a ways away and she threw him long, arcing balls, to simulate a pop fly. At first she threw the ball close to where he was standing, but later she threw it off line, so he had to run for it. By the end of the session he was catching those balls about half the time, and was gaining the skill of judging where a ball in the air was going. Finally Rachael called quits.

“My arm is tired, Tiger, I can’t throw any more. But you seem to be doing well. Let’s go home and get ready for dinner.

At the house it seemed that the soup was just right, Rachael strained it, getting out the bones and fat, leaving the meat and broth. She then tossed in a sack of egg noodles from the store. She wanted to try homemade noodles one day, but that day was not today, not without the proper tools.

The soup was complemented by a Bobby ‘sallid’, and sandwiches. Maria was impressed by the little meal. There was quite a bit of soup left, and Rachael put it into margarine containers to take to Grandpa to eat with his sandwiches during the next week. Then it was dishes and bed, and a peaceful end to the day, with Rachel, Bobby, and Maria spread out on his bed, reading Harry Potter to him.

“So the sleepover was a success?” Maria asked as they left the sleeping boy.

“Yeah, we all had a blast. You saw the boobs thing. It was hilarious. They took a picture of me dressed up like Jessica Rabbit. I will show it to you when Mikki gets done with it. The cookies were a hit, and the pizzas were a hit. You just wait until I get another jar of tomato sauce from Mrs. DaSilva. It is so awesome. But the most important thing about the whole night was that Mikki and Larissa made some new friends. From the cool kids. I bet the sleepover will be the talk of the school on Monday.”

“I’m glad you had fun, but I want to tell you that a little guy in there really missed you. I can’t believe how much you two have bonded over the last few weeks. He missed reading Harry Potter with you. I offered to read it with him, but he wouldn’t because then you would miss a part of the book.”

“Aww, I could have read to catch it up.”

“I know, but he didn’t think that way. Harry Potter is a Rachael and Bobby thing in his mind. I did read to him from his library books, but when he went to bed you could see sad eyes. He missed Harry Potter, but mostly he missed his sister.”

“Aww, you are going to make me cry,” Rachael said.

“So have you heard any more from officer Steve?” Rachael then asked.

“He has been to the café several times,” Maria said. “He wants another chance, but I told him I just didn’t think we are right for each other. You know men though. They don’t get it easily. I think he will keep chasing me until I find another man. Like I have a lot of chance doing that as a 30-year-old mother.”

“You’ll find a guy, Mom, I know you will. Look, I’m going to bed early. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Dear Lord

Please help me help Bobby become a good person. I can be there for him for a few years, and what I need to do is make sure that he is a good man when I can no longer be there for him. And can you find me a good man for Mom. One that she will love. Officer Steve is a good man, but somehow they weren’t right for each other.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Another long chapter, and a hard one to write. I hope it is interesting to all of you. I have spoiled you all with daily postings for the past week, but I think it will be two or three days until the next one. Dawn

SUNDAY, May 8, 2016

Rachael was back to her early rising schedule on Sunday. She decided to make pancakes again for her family today, since they had missed out on the batch she made at the Stoner’s yesterday. She had a batch well underway when Maria came down, followed shortly thereafter by a sleepy looking Bobby.

“You are making smells in here that make my tummy hungry,” Bobby said. He was still wearing his pajamas but Rachael decided to let him, since he would be dressing for church after. She slipped a plate of pancakes in front of him, and poured syrup on them. She was not going to let him pour his own and risk losing half the bottle.

“These are excellent, as usual,” Maria said. “Ooh, they are blueberry, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they had fresh blueberries on sale so I bought some at the store. We can have a few blueberry things this week.”

“Blueberry cookies,” Bobby voted.

“Yuck, I don’t think they would be good in cookies. Pies, muffins, or more pancakes I think. They should last until the end of the week, so we can be surprised at how we use them. You might even find a couple in your lunch this week. Think of them as flavor bombs that go off in your mouth.”

“Cool,” Bobby said. “The boys I eat with all get jealous when I eat, because you put so many cool things in my lunch. You are the best sister ever, Rachael.”

“And you are the best brother ever too, Bobby,” she said.

Bobby practically needed a bath when he finished eating, with Rachael herself scrubbing his blue-stained face and syrupy hands before letting him put on his Sunday clothes. She went down to see her sad Mom.

“We can’t go,” she said. “I don’t have $5 for us to put into the collection plate this week. I thought I had some tucked away in my purse, but I don’t. We can’t go to church and not contribute.”

“Don’t worry Mom,” Rachael hugged Maria. “I have money left from shopping.”

“You can’t use your money, I should have some.”

“It is not my money, it is our money. It is from the money you gave me for groceries, but I found some deals and spent less than you gave me. That means it is your money. Our money,” she handed Maria a twoonie plus a loonie for her to hand to Bobby when the time came.

“You are so good to me,” Maria said.

“I just want to let you know, even if I had to use my babysitting money for us to go, I would. Church is important to me.”

The young family walked to church in the early morning sunshine, and got the same pews as they had the week before. The service this week was “The Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper” and the elderly minister droned on for over an hour about it. He seemed to stare at the back corner of the church several times, with a frown on his face. Rachael could stand and turn around to see what was bothering him until the final hymns. Then she peeked back as she stood and saw John and Paul from the art shop.

Bobby had gone down to the Sunday school early in the service, but was back to put his loonie in the collection plate. Finally service was over, and Maria and Rachael took Bobby out the door, where the minister pointedly turned away from greeting them, and from John and Paul. Rachael rushed over to hug John, and shook hands with Paul, who was a little more reserved.

“Momma, these are the guys with that great art shop I was telling you about. John, Paul, meet Maria Cartright, my mother.”

“Mother? No! Sister perhaps,” John flirted in that way that gay guys will with a pretty girl. “Did we just get snubbed here? I notice that the minister didn’t greet us after service.”

“I’m sure he just missed you,” Rachael said.

“And he stared at us through the service,” Paul added. “What crime is a lovely family like yours conducting against Mother Church?”

“Single mother,” Maria said. “If I was married to a womanizing philanderer who beat his wife and children, that would be okay. But raising two children to love God on your own apparently is a sin buried in the back of the Book somewhere.”

Paul laughed. “I like you. Since you come to this church I think maybe we will give it one more try. There are a few others in town we could come to, and I’m glad we found this one.”

“We don’t have that option,” Rachael said. “This is the only church in walking distance to our house. We don’t have a car. Right now we could walk further, but when winter comes, having church only two blocks away will be a blessing.”

“Well that is no excuse. If the old man is as bad next week, we will all pick a different place to worship. John is very religious, and needs to go to church, but the church has to be accepting of our lifestyle. I don’t think this one is. We’ll all give him one more chance, and if he doesn’t measure up, we will go elsewhere. And we will take you with us each week, rain or shine.”

“Well that is very Christian of you,” Maria said. “But as you say, let’s give him one last chance. Next week.”

“So can we drive you home,” John chuckled. “Our Range Rover is just a block that way.

Now Rachael giggled. “But our house is just two blocks that way. See, the little white house with the blue door? It doesn’t make sense to walk one block the other way to save a two block walk.”

“No it doesn’t. Well then, bye bye Rachel, Maria, and Bobby who is a good boy and doesn’t touch my paintings with sticky hands.” The two men shook hands with the family, with John giving Maria a French-style cheek kiss, and then left.

The family had just gotten into the house when the phone started ringing. Rachael was closest and picked up. It was Mikki and she sounded panicky.

“Rachael, is Danni there?”

“No Mikki, he isn’t. We just got back from church this minute. Where is he?”

“We don’t know. He didn’t sleep in his bed last night, and now we can’t find him. Momma is in a state, and Daddy is grumpy. It is all his fault. Can you come help us find him?”

“I will be over in two minutes.” Rachael hung up, and tore up the stairs to her room, explaining the situation to Maria as she changed out of church clothes and into something more casual. Maria said she would look after Bobby, and that she should go to her friend. As she was about to leave her room, Rachael stopped and picked up Mrs. Periwinkle, one of the dolls Danni had played with when he was over. Then she ran from the room and was out the door in a second.

All the walking from school paid off, as Rachael ran all the way to the Stoner house. Mikki opened the door, and was clearly distraught, with eyes red from crying. Mrs. Stoner was on the sofa, also crying. Mikki went over and hugged the woman. “Don’t worry Mrs. Stoner, we will find her,” Rachael said.

A moment later Rachael had an idea. “Can you two wait here? I want to see something in Danni’s room.”

Rachael went upstairs to the room with all the stuffed animals. As she thought, one seemed to be missing from the middle of the row lined up so neatly at the head of the bed.

“Danni!” she called out. “Danielle! It is Rachael. I’ve come to see you.” Was that a sob from somewhere? She tried again. “Danielle. Mrs. Periwinkle has come to meet all your animal friends. Don’t you want to be a good hostess and introduce them all?”

Yes. There was a definite sob, and a sniffle. Rachael walked towards a door. Opening it, she saw a closet, and suddenly she remembered a vision: the one where Bobby had hidden in his closet in a cubbyhole after finding his sister hanging from a rafter. After Ron became Rachael, she was confused, because there was no such cubbyhole in their house. The closet was just too small. But that same cubbyhole was here, in the Stoner house, and when she looked in she saw two tiny legs sticking out.

“Mrs. Periwinkle would like to see you,” Rachael says. “She said you are being very unladylike in not greeting her politely.”

“No. I’m never coming out,” Danni sobbed. “He cut off all my hair. I look like a boy now. I will stay in here and just die.”

“Who cut off your hair?”

“Daddy. No, that hair guy Daddy took me to. A boy hair place with all old men. The man took off all my hair.”

Rachael gasped. Please don’t let it be a brushcut, please don’t let it be shaved.

“I would still like to see your new haircut. I’ll bet it is still pretty. I have short hair, and I don’t look like a boy, do I?”

“No.” More sobs.

“Mrs. Periwinkle says that if you don’t come out now, right at this very minute, she is going to come in there and carry you out.” There was a tiny giggle for a second, followed by a big sob.

“She is too little to carry me,” Danni sobbed. “But I will come out. For you Rachael, and for Mrs. Periwinkle.” Slowly she backed out of the closet and soon sat holding Mrs. Periwinkle as Rachael encircled her with a hug. They got out and moved over to the bed.

“Oh your hair isn’t as bad as I thought,” Rachael said. The barber hadn’t given the dreaded brushcut, but gave Danni a cut that resembled the helmet-head that Justin Bieber wore when he first got on the Internet. “That is actually a very pretty hair style.”

“But all my curls are gone,” Danni sobbed. “I loved my long hair.”

“Mikki, Mrs. Stoner, I found her,” Rachael called out. In seconds the women entered the room and Mrs. Stoner took Danni from Rachael’s arms, with both of them sobbing. “Danni, my sweet Danielle, I thought I had lost you,” Mrs. Stoner crooned as she held her little daughter.

“Danielle?” Mikki asked confused. “And why is everyone calling him a her?”

“We think she might be transgendered, a girl in a boy body,” Rachael explained. “I had a cousin like that once. But she died. I think your Mom might have thought that Danni did the same thing?”

“I told Bob I was going to take her to a doctor yesterday, and he freaked out. He grabbed Danni and took her off in the car. I was worried he was going to do something stupid. And he did, although it was not the stupid thing I thought. He came back from the barber shop with her looking like this.”

“Which is still pretty,” Rachael prompted.

“Of course it is. Danielle is beautiful,” Andrea hugged the little girl tighter again.

Rachael whispered into Mikki’s ear, and the older sister left the room.

Danni and mother just sobbed and held each other for a few minutes, and finally the little girl said “Mommy, you are squeezing Mrs. Periwinkle, and she is going to be ever so cross with you.”

“I’m sorry honey. And I am sorry too, Mrs. Periwinkle.”

“Let’s move over to Mikki’s room,” Rachael suggested. “I think she has something on the computer to show you.”

They moved into Mikki’s room, where Mikki was sitting at her computer desk. “Snuggle up there on your sister’s lap,” Rachael said, as she and Mrs. Stoner stood behind the chair.

“Do you know that girl?” Rachael said. “It is the girl who played Hermione in Harry Potter. She cut her hair short like that for a while. It is longer now, but does she look like a boy?”

“No, she is pretty,” Danni said.

“And look at this lady,” Mikki said. “I didn’t know about her, but Rachael says she is Audrey Hepburn.”

“She is beautiful,” Danni admitted. “I like that style. And that one, with the waves. They are almost like curls.”

Then Mikki typed in ‘short hair styles’ to Google, and brought up another page of pictures. Some of these were longer than Danni’s hair, but many were shorter. The little girl started pointing at one picture after another, and saying ‘she is pretty’ to each one, usually blondes like her.

“So you see honey, you can be pretty with short hair,” Rachael said. “And do you want to know a secret? Your hair is growing. Even right now, it is getting longer. If you look really hard, you can see it grow. Look, pft, that one just got a tiny bit longer. And pft, another one over there is longer now. Pft, there is one more. Your hair grows slowly, but in one year it will be down to here,” Rachael held her hand six inches down Danni’s back. Then she moved it another half foot. “And a year later it will be down to here. That is nearly as long as it was yesterday.”

“Really?” Danni said, jumping off Mikki’s lap. “I need to go introduce Mrs. Periwinkle to my animals. Pft, pft, pft.”

Rachael could see Mrs. Stoner visibly relax. “I don’t know how to thank you enough, Rachael. We searched her room, but couldn’t find her. Of course it didn’t help that her father was yelling her name angrily. Of course she would have crawled deeper into that niche rather than facing him after he … violated her like that.”

“Should we phone them? Lyle and Daddy are out in the car, looking.”

“No, let him stew. He wants a son? Let him think he might find a dead son out there,” Mrs. Stoner said bitterly. “I thought I knew him better than this.”

It was an hour later that the men came back, to find Danni playing happily on the livingroom rug with Mrs. Periwinkle and three of her stuffed animals.

“Where did you find him?” Mr. Stoner said loudly. “And why is he playing with dolls. I forbid that.”

“I said she could,” Mrs. Stoner said softly.

“This is my house, and I will not be overruled. I will not have a son of mine playing with dolls.”

“My house?” Mrs. Stoner repeated, her voice rising. "I thought it was ‘our house’. Now you think it is your house?”

“I paid the mortgage in Toronto for 15 years, so yes, it is my house,” the man shouted. Rachael and Danni were both near tears watching their parents fight, and Kyle was also looking uncomfortable.

“Oh, so you paid the mortgage while I was having your babies, is that it? Is that all I am to you? A bearer of children? Are you going to get me pregnant again, to replace the son you lost?”

“I didn’t lose my son. He is right over there.” Danni broke out in tears as her father pointed and yelled at her.

“You are scaring her.”

“Him. He. Daniel is a boy, and no crazy doctor will ever change that,” Mr. Stoner yelled.

“Mr. Stoner,” Rachael decided to try and help. “Why do you object to Danni seeing a doctor? If she was ill you would get her medical care, wouldn’t you. How is this so different”?

“You!” the man raged, turning red in the face. “You have been nothing but trouble since you started hanging around my daughter.” He turned to Mikki. “You are not to speak to this girl again, nor see her. No more walking home from school together.” Mikki gasped as her father turned back to face Rachael. “First Kayla says her name is Mikki, and then you want to turn my son into a girl. I want you out of my house.”

“I think I should leave,” Rachael said, standing.

“NO!” Mrs. Stoner shouted. “This is my house, and it is you who is leaving,” she said, arraying all her rage at her husband. You can go back to Toronto and do whatever you want there, but I don’t want you back here until you come to your senses.”

“I’m going with Dad,” Kyle said.

“No you are not,” Mrs. Stoner said. “You have six more weeks of school here, and you will finish that. Then we will decide what to do. But you,” she stared at her husband “will get out of MY house NOW!” Kyle raced up to his bedroom hearing this.

Mr. Stoner looked from left to right, and then wheeled and fled out the door. A second later, the sound of a car squealing its tires could be heard tearing out of the drive and speeding off.

Rachael immediately went and picked up the sobbing Danni, and hugged her for a few seconds until her mother came and took her. Rachael then moved over to hug Mikki, who was sobbing as hard as Danni.

“Are you guys getting a divorce?” Mikki choked out the words towards her mother.

“Oh honey, I don’t know what is going to happen. I do know that I am taking Danni to the doctor tomorrow, and hopefully he will get her a referral to a psychologist specializing in gender issues of the young. We need medical advice before we decide what to do. Maybe Danni is just going through a phase, as Bob likes to think. But I think there is more to it than that, and I need to be sure. I do know that no man will tell me how to care for my child.”

Mikki continued to be tense as she sobbed, worrying that her parents might be splitting up. Or had they split up already? Her Dad was gone to Toronto. She shuddered.

Rachael spoke up, while still hugging her friend. “It is important for the girls to know that they are not the reason why this is all happening. Danni, don’t blame yourself for your Daddy getting mad and going away. It is not your fault, and doesn’t mean that he doesn’t still love you. He and your Mom just have different ideas about what to do, and they argued about it. It is not your fault.”

“That is true girls. Hopefully in a week or two we will know about Danni’s health, and we will all be a big family again.”

“And Danni, would you like to keep Mrs. Periwinkle? She told me she really likes this house, and likes your animals better than the dolls at my house. She will give you someone to talk to when you need to think about things. Is that a good idea?”

“Oh yes, yes. Thank you, thank you. Mrs. Periwinkle is such a good friend.” She wriggled free from her Mom and picked up the doll. “I will take her upstairs to see her friends.” She walked over to the stairs, then turned around. “But I do not love Daddy any more,” she said with fire in those beautiful blue eyes, “I hate him, and I never want to see him again.”

With that she stomped up the stairs, whispering something to Mrs. Periwinkle, leaving the others looking at her in shock. “Well I still love Daddy,” Mikki said. “I want you two to get back together.”

“That can be a good thing,” Rachael said. “It would be good for you to call him once a day or so and tell him that. I suspect that when your Mom calls things might get tense, at least at first. But if Mikki can call and let him know she still loves him, that could be healing. I suspect that nothing good will happen until a psychologist sees Danni. Hopefully he will listen to professional advice. That might be why he was so reluctant to have one see Danni. He knew if he loses there the battle is over.”

“Rachael, you are so wise,” Mrs. Stoner said. “Are you sure you are only 13?”

“For another two months I am,” she answered, knowing how close to the truth that question was. You gain a lot of wisdom in 60 plus years, and all that seemed to have been brought forward to Rachael.

“Look, I have to head home. We are having Grandpa over for dinner tonight, and I haven’t even started cooking.”

At home Rachael got out the slice of ham that she had bought the day before. An inch thick, it should make a good meal for the four of them. She seasoned it with mustard and spices, and popped it into a slow oven to bake. It should be done about a half hour before Grandpa arrived. To complement it, she got baking potatoes into the oven as well, and both baby carrots and peas as vegetables. She got Bobby to help with his ‘sallid’. The little guy loved making something for his Grandpa to eat.

There was a surprise as well. She had bought a small block of ice cream. Bobby had been exercising well all week: she thought she could spoil him on Sunday. And Grandpa had mentioned a love of ice cream as well. With luck, they could get two Sundays out of the small block.

The now familiar sound of a car on the drive signaled that Grandpa was here, and a young man from the Legion (young meaning late 40s) helped Grandpa into the house. He was soon seated in the easy chair, with Bobby on his lap seconds later.

They didn’t read for long. Maria and Rachael set the table and served the meal only 10 minutes later. As promised, Rachael asked Grandpa to add to the grace by telling about one of the men who hadn’t come back from France.

The old soldier choked up a bit, and Maria suggested that perhaps this was too much for him, but instead he shook his head, saying ‘it’s important’ and then related the story of a young man who died on the beaches the first day, and died clutching a rosary in one hand and a rifle in the other, without having spent a single shot.

“And please Lord, tell Private Harper that we still will remember all he did for us, and how important he was to us having the freedom and prosperity we have today. I know he is with you. Amen.”

Maria handed Grandpa a tissue to wipe her eyes and took one for herself.

“You know, sweetheart,” Grandpa told Rachael, “I have been thinking all week about which soldier to mention. Some were braver, many did much more. We remember those longer. But young Brian … I couldn’t even remember his face at first. Me, who should never forget. But then it came to me, and I couldn’t not name him. His name is probably on a cenotaph somewhere. I think he was from down Sarnia way. But for us to no longer remember his face. I hope he had family: nephews and nieces, for he was too young to have children of his own. He deserves to be remembered. And now we have. Thank you for suggesting this. I can only hope to live long enough to name all of them. There were so many.”

With that they ate the dinner. Bobby decided that he liked ham, and both Maria and Grandpa were amazed at how tasty Rachael’s recipe was. Bobby ate all his vegetables, and was amazed when Rachael suggested that he eat his potato skins. In the kitchen before bringing them out Rachael had split his, and put a liberal coating of butter on the skins to melt and soak in during the meal.

She ate some of her skins, which she had not buttered, and when he picked his up with his hand and took a bite his eyes widened. “These are really, really good,” he said. “I like them even more than mashed potatoes. More than French Fries … almost.”

The small bowls of ice cream were a hit. Bobby looked as if he wished the helpings could be larger when he first saw the dessert, but when he finished it he noted that he was “filled to the very top.”

Maria and Rachael shared the cleanup duties as Bobby read to Grandpa. When the women came out of the kitchen, they stopped reading, although Bobby didn’t move from his comfortable seat on Grandpa’s lap. They had a good half-hour before the other Legion man would come and get Grandpa.

“Dear,” Grandpa said, looking at Rachael. “I found the bill for the groceries on the counter, and saw that you spent more than I gave you.”

“That is all right. You needed some other things, and you deserved some treats as well. I know that was your last money, so I borrowed a bit from our grocery money. We are all family.”

“Yes dear, that was the last money I had in my purse, but it is not all the money I had. I have a pension that goes into the bank each month. It is more than I spend most months, so you see, I am not hard up for money.”

“Oh.” Rachael was so used to being short of money that she assumed that he was as well.

“In fact, my dear granddaughter,” he added. “The bank gave me a silly little card a few years ago that they say can get money out of a machine. Do you know about those?”

“An ATM. An automated teller machine. Yes, I know of them, although we don’t use one here. Mom gets paid in cash, and tips. We don’t use a bank much.”

“Well I have to. A few years back the pension people stopped mailing checks out and wanted to just put it in the bank. I was upset at the time, but now it is pretty convenient. I don’t have to take a taxi to the bank just to cash my checks.”

“You use a taxi?”

“Oh yes. I have an account with Kings Cabs. Jerome Kingsmill was in my company, and he started the taxi with one old Ford back at the end of the war. I think there are a dozen now. It seems to be a different driver each time now. But I heard you paying for the cab when you got my groceries, and I intend to phone Bill Kingsmill, Jerome’s grandson, and tell him that you are to be added to my account. You can use the taxi whenever you need one, not just to get my groceries.”

“Okay.” Rachael said hesitantly. She wanted to protest, but couldn’t think of any good reason. “I don’t want to waste all your money,” was the best she could come up with.

He laughed. “Unless you start taking a taxi two or three times a day it won’t be a waste, and I trust you more than that. I get a pretty special rate from Bill, and he includes the tip to the driver on my bill.”

“Okay then, I will make sure I use Kings next weekend, and see how it works.”

“The other thing I would ask is if you were to take my bank card thing,” he said. “I never get out, and as you know I am short of cash right now. If you can find one of those machines, I would like to get $100 for my purse, and $100 more for you. I will give you my bank card number.”

Rachael gasped. “I can’t take $100. That is too much. Bobby and I do what we do for love, not money.”

“I know sweetheart, but you deserve it. And I want to treat for the next week’s dinner. Do you know that I didn’t go out for five months before I met you two, other than doctors and tests at the hospital. Maybe once to the grocery store. You two have made my life full. I wait every day to see you, and I wait every week to come and visit with your beautiful mother. It makes my life worth living again. Will you do that for an old man?”

How could she say no? Rachael agreed. It was only a few minutes later when the man from the Legion arrived. “I guess you really don’t need these guys, do you,” Rachael asked when they heard the car pull in.

“I do like meeting them, though,” Grandpa said as Rachael helped him from his chair. “Most of them are sons or grandsons of veterans, and joined the Legion for that. They do good work for those of us left, as few as we are now, and the new ones coming in from Afghanistan and those other places. As long as they are so happy to do it, let them drive me on Sundays.”

This driver agreed to wait and bring Rachael back after dropping off the Sergeant, as he called him, so she was able to accompany him home again, taking a few of her soups for his fridge.

When they got into the door, the old man went to a desk, and pulled it open. “Here it is,” he said handing Rachael a bankcard. “The password to make it work is 6644.”

“D-Day,” Rachael whispered. “I won’t forget that. Ever.” She put the card into her purse and then helped Grandpa up to bed, unbuttoning his shirt for him and loosening his belt before leaving him to his bed.

After returning home, Bobby was ready for his double helping of Harry Potter. They were nearing the end of the first book, but would have to get another two-week renewal at the library to finish it.

Again, Bobby fell asleep before long, and Rachael put the bookmark in to mark the place. She then went downstairs, curling up next to Maria on the sofa.

“What is that for?” Maria asked, enjoying the cuddle.

“For being you. For being such a perfect Mom.” She then proceeded to tell Maria about all the drama over at the Stoner house earlier in the day.

“That is horrible,” Maria said. She looked at the clock. “Do you think it would be too late to call Andrea? She may need a friendly ear at a time like this. I know what it is like to have a husband leave, and maybe I can help.”

“I’m sure she would appreciate that, Momma,” Rachael said. “But everything over the last few days has left me exhausted. I’m off to bed early tonight.

Dear Lord

I do hope I am doing things right. I tried to help with Danni, and look at the mess it created. I am supposed to help people, and instead I may have broken up a family. And I don’t even know if I am right about Danni. What if it is just a phase he is going through? Anyway, bless Bobby and Mom. Grandpa and the girls from school. And especially bless the Stoners, and let them get over this in a good way. I will try harder from now on. I promise.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

There definitely will not be a chapter tomorrow. I have decided to work on chapter two of A Gentle Soul, and it will probably be the next thing posted. Much merriment for Tolkien or Grimm Brothers' fans: Dawn

MONDAY, May 9, 2016

Rachael was on the bus when Mikki and Larissa entered. Mikki looked terrible, with raccoon eyes from crying, and just plopped down on the seat. Larissa gave a ‘what could I do’ look, and went back to the seat near the back.

“What’s wrong, honey,” Rachael asked her friend.

“I was trying to tell Larissa what happened yesterday and I just lost it,” Mikki sobbed. “Everything at home is terrible. Kyle is acting up because Daddy left, and Mom and him had a big argument over the phone. I think they will split up. I don’t want that. I love Daddy.”

“Slow down, Mikki,” Rachael said, scavenging in her purse for some towelettes. “First we need to clean you up a bit, then we will talk about this. Your makeup has run and we need to fix it. At least get this off. We can do a better job in the washroom at school.”

“Oh no,” she wailed, “on top of everything else, now I look horrible.”

“You don’t look horrible, or at least you won’t when I finish with you. Hold still and tell me what happened after I left.”

“Dad called at about 7 p.m., I guess when he got to his room in Toronto. I didn’t get a chance to talk to him, because he and Mom had a big fight. I finally phoned him at about 10, just before bed, and he sounded glad I called.”

“Did you tell him you loved him?”

“Of course. He sounded happy to hear that. I told him that what he did to Danni’s hair was wrong, and I think he knows that. He asked if I thought Danni was a girl or a boy, and I said we should wait for the doctor, and he agreed. He said he would go with whatever the doctor says. I think he blames himself for Danni turning out so girly, like he did something or didn’t do something to make him macho like Kyle. I said that Danni is a sweet child, and he should be proud of her, or him, no matter what. He agreed.”

“Oh Mikki, that is wonderful news.”

“It is? How?”

“Well, the whole thing started when your Dad wouldn’t let your Mom take Danni to a doctor. He is agreeing to that. They will still have a lot of stuff to work out: the whole ‘this is my house’ thing, but I’m sure they will get back together. It might take a week or two, but I’m sure he’ll come back home. How is Danni?”

“She is better now. She doesn’t want to speak to Dad at all: she says she hates him. I don’t know if that will change. At least not for a long while. She is so upset. She just sits and plays with that Mrs. Periwinkle doll you gave her.”

“Well, that is something we will have to work on when he comes back,” Rachael said.

“Do you really think he will come back?” Mikki sobbed.

“I’m sure of it.” Just then Carly came up to their seat and gave Mikki a hug, and handed Rachael a couple more moist towelettes.

“I am so sorry, Mikki,” she said. “I hope it will all work out for you.”

A second later the bus driver yelled at her to sit down, and she had to scurry back to the rear of the bus.

“There. That is one good thing about this,” Rachael said, using a one of Carly’s towelettes to clean the last of the mascara off Mikki. “At least you have friends to help you through all of it. Larissa must have told the girls.”

“Yes, it is good to have friends. I would have been a wreck without you. I feel so much better after talking to you, Rachael. Do you really think he will come back? That she will take him back?”

“I am certain of it. It is just a matter of whether it is two weeks, or two months. The important thing is that you need to keep calling him, and reminding him that there are people who love him up here.”

“I will. Oh, we are here already?”

The girls left the bus in a group, with the five of them forming a protective phalanx around Mikki that made her feel loved and protected. Larissa and Rachael took Mikki right into the girls room, and helped her fix her makeup, now that her face was clean. It still was clear that she had been crying, but at least she no longer had raccoon face.

Rachael darted out, leaving Mikki with Larissa, and then Carly came in to help. Becca was with her, but not Layla. Rachael went to the staff room, and tapped on the door, asking for Mrs. Cathcart, the English teacher they have the first period.

“Oh, Mrs. Cathcart, thanks for taking the time to talk to you.”

“Yes Miss Cartright, what can I do for you?”

“Well, it is not for me. But Mikki Stoner has had a bad weekend. Her parents just split up, and she is pretty upset about it all. I just wanted you to know, in case she seems distracted or something.”

“Oh my,” the elderly teacher said. “I certainly will look out for her.”

“And if you could mention it to the other teachers …?”

“I will. I think everyone is in right now. I’ll go make an announcement.”

“Thanks Mrs. Cathcart,” Rachael said. “You are a great teacher.” The woman was not, at least not anymore. Like many other teachers nearing retirement she had started thinking of students as problems that she had to deal with each day, instead of the reason for her job. But lately, with all the compliments Rachael had been giving her, and praising her for the recent turnaround in her behavior, Mrs. Cathcart was starting to believe that she was still a good teacher, and was improving her attitude with all her students.

The result was that Mikki was not bothered too much by teachers all day. She might have been, had they not known of her situation: she was inattentive and quiet all through the classes as she worried about what was happening at home, and what was happening with Danni and her Mom, who had a doctor’s appointment.

At lunch, Carly and the girls asked Mikki to join them at their table where the sleepover would probably be a big topic of conversation. But the subdued girl insisted in joining Rachael at their normal table. Rachael had seen Robert after English, and told him about the situation, and he passed the news on to the other guys. Larissa found Janice and let her know too.

“I guess I have to get mystery meat today,” Mikki said. “I forgot to make a lunch last night.”

“No you don’t,” Rachael insisted. “I’ve got a huge ham sandwich from our leftovers last night, and you can have half of it. Between the two of us, a half lunch will just help us lose weight. Your life sucks enough right now without having to eat that dreck.”

“You are the best, Rachael,” Mikki said as they got to the table.

As they sat down, she looked around and saw nothing but concerned faces all around. Mikki realized that Rachael was right. She had friends, and they all cared about her. She felt a little better, and when lunch was finished they actually got around to telling the boys about the sleepover, improving her mood greatly.

But the big boost for her came at the end, when Tony gave her a big hug. Mikki’s eyes went wide, and none of the other boys teased Tony about it, although you could tell that it was killing them not to. “You looked like you needed that,” Tony said in his accented English, “and you deserve it.” He then scampered away.

“Did that really happen?” Mikki asked as she and Rachael walked to Science class. For the first time today she had a smile on her face.

In the afternoon classes Mikki had two things to make her distracted: her family situation and the fact that the boy she liked had hugged her. One made her sad, and the other made her happy, striking an odd balance on the roller coaster of life that being a teen is.

The three girls met at Larissa’s locker, and Mikki was much better. They went and got Bobby, and headed home.

“Where is Danni,” Bobby asked. “I didn’t see her in school all day.”

“He and mom went to the doctor today,” Mikki said.

“The doctor who will decide if she is a girl or a boy?” Bobby asked.

“No, this is a first doctor who will pick out who the second doctor is,” Rachael explained. “The second doctor is the one who will do the tests to see about Danni.”

“I think she is a girl,” Bobby announced. “But a good one. I like her.”

That made all three older girls smile. A grade five boy announcing that he likes a girl is not an everyday occurrence.

As they walked past the library, Rachael remembered that she needed to renew Harry Potter tomorrow. “Do you want to change your library books tomorrow,” she asked Bobby.

“Some I could, but I really like one of them,” he said.

“Well, you can just change three or four of them if you want, and keep the other for one more week. If you want to keep it longer, we can renew it, like we are going to with Harry Potter.”

“Goodie, goodie,” the boy said.

At DaSilva’s they stopped in for Bobby’s apple, and Tony was there to serve them.

“I didn’t say earlier,” Mikki said. “But thanks for the hug. It really helped. I felt better all afternoon thinking about it. Thanks again.” He beamed at the compliment, and went a little red in the face. “I really do like you, Mikki,” he said as he handed Bobby his apple.

“I like you too, Tony,” Mikki said softly, and that made the boy scurry to the back of the store to do … something.

“He likes me. He said he likes me,” Mikki said. “I have a boyfriend.” She turned to Rachael. “I do have a boyfriend, right?”

“I think so, but you shouldn’t rush it with him. It is possible to scare boys away if you get too pushy or too clingy.”

They stopped in at the bakery, and Rachael noticed that there was an ATM machine in the back. She went over, and fished out Grandpa’s card. She had never actually used an ATM as Rachael, but had many times as Ron, so she was able to quickly withdraw the $200 that Grandpa had requested.

She bought bread for both her family and Grandpa, and Larissa bought a big order. Mikki even bought a loaf of bread for her family, and some treats for their dessert, since it would probably be pretty somber without her dad there.

At Grandpas they had a long visit. Bobby had to split his time, going over to see Miss Lajoie, and his doggy friends. She let him take them for their walk around the block. Goldie looked fine, and came over to give Rachael a kiss, allowing her a quick peek inside her leg, which was fine.

“You both got your lawn’s cut,” Rachael said. “I didn’t notice it last night. It was too dark.”

“Yes, your young man came by,” Grandpa said. “I tried to give him a check for cutting it, but he said you had already looked after it. I did promise to have him do it again in two weeks. For that I will pay. He said that Sunday it took three hours to cut, but he thought it would only take two hours when the grass is not so long. I’ll pay him $25, and probably a $5 tip. He went and did Miss Lajoie's right after mine.”

“Yes, she is paying him with guitar lessons,” Rachael said.

“Oh, that is a clever idea. Now why do I think you were behind that?”

Rachael laughed. “Oh, I went to the ATM. Where is your purse?”

“Right here,” he said, forking it out from his trouser pocket. She handed him the wad of bills.

“You are supposed to keep $100,” he said. “You bought me bread, I see and you keep making me all those wonderful sandwiches. And soup too. I’m going to eat better tonight than the Meals-on-Wheels stuff from lunch.”

In the end Rachael took one of the 20s, and agreed to take more on the weekend when she got his groceries.

Soon they were at home, and as they left Larissa and Mikki it was apparent that the latter was starting to worry about home again. Rachael gave her a big hug when they departed. “It isn’t as good as a Tony-hug,” she quipped, “but you do deserve it.” That make her smile for a few seconds.

Inside the house Rachael saw that she had an hour before Maria would be home, so she put a load of laundry in, including Bobby’s bedding. She and Bobby made a salad, and she made spaghetti for dinner, with meat balls. While Mikki and Tony were flirting, she had been flirting herself, telling Mrs. DaSilva about what a success her sauce had been at the party, and did she happen to have any more jars? Rachael scored a jar of the red gold. She had bought hamburger at the grocery store, and it was made into rather sloppy looking meat balls by Bobby, who loved shaping the spoonsful of meat Rachael scooped out.

Thus, when Maria came home to the smell of the meatballs cooking in the sauce, Bobby was able to claim that ‘he’ had made dinner. Maria praised him for his meatballs, and raved over the sauce, which made a simple easy dish taste like something from an Italian café.

“After the day I’ve had today,” Maria said, “coming home to two kids who work together to make my dinner. I feel blessed.”

“A bad day?” Rachael asked.

“Yeah, pretty bad,” Maria said. “You know that Joe got a new waitress at the café when the other girl quit. When I had to work the weekend? Well, apparently she is now sleeping with Joe. And she seems to think that makes her think she my boss. Maybe she is. My complaints to Joe don’t seem to have any impact. I’ve worked there for more than 10 years, and in less than 10 days she decides I’m doing it all wrong.”

Rachael went and gave her Mom a hug. “This really helped the last person that needed one,” she said. Maria hugged back fiercely.

“It does sweetheart. Who else have you been hugging?”

“Mikki. She was a mess this morning. I think we got her turned around by the end of the day, although I could see in her face that she didn’t want to come home.”

“Oh, I must call Andrea,” Maria said.

“If you do, keep in mind that I think they will get back together,” Rachael said. “Mikki called her Dad yesterday, and he seems to be gaining his senses. With luck they can probably save their marriage.”

“Huh, I’m not sure that is the best thing. He sounds like he was being a real jerk. She could do better, I’m sure.”

“Well don’t tell her that. She has nearly 20 years of marriage at stake. He was a jerk, but you don’t throw all that away over one stupid mistake. Try to get her to give him a second chance, if he will ease up on the jerkiness.”

“Okay honey. I’m glad you mentioned that. I probably would have told her she is better off without him. But look at how long I’ve been single, and I was only married 30 months, not 20 years.”

Rachael read with Bobby, and helped him with a math sheet the teacher had sent home. At the end of it, the boy praised her, claiming that he understood what she taught him, while he couldn’t get it from the teacher.

He had his bath, and while he was in the tub, Maria got off the phone. “Andrea sounds better,” she said. “She took Danni to a doctor, and got a referral for Thursday with a psychologist. She feels that Bob will turn around when there are some medical results to discuss. She is willing to take him back as long as he agrees to go by what the psychologist says about Danni.”

“Good. I told Mikki I think they will get back together. I hope they do.”

Rachael then went to read with her newly clean brother, then went to bed herself.

Dear Lord

Please, please let the Stoners be a family again. Everyone just needs to give a little, and I’m sure they can work it all out. Keep my family and all my friends safe, and let me know if I am doing a good job.

Amen

Rachael felt that warm tingle, and wondered if it was a sign that she was doing well, or just to let her know that her prayer was received.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Sorry for the long gap since the last chapter. I tried to write a chapter in my other series A Gentle Soul, but got stuck half way through. I finally got fed up with the block, and came back to this one. The characters here just keep writing the story for me. I just have to type it out: Dawn.

TUESDAY, May 10, 2016

On the bus ride to school Mikki told Rachael that Danny’s visit to the doctor on Monday resulted in an early appointment with a child psychologist experienced in gender issues for Thursday, due to a cancellation by another patient just hours before they called.

The morning went fairly well and at lunch Rachael went around the cafeteria looking for students for the movie night. First she went and got ‘dates’ for the four guys who originally had sat at the nerd table. Some had slightly unrealistic expectations on who might date them, but Rachael suggested the names of some of the less attractive girls in the class, and gradually the guys agreed to sit with these girls. Rachael then went around the cafeteria and brought the four girls over, and sat them down next to the boys in question so that they could chat. She also got each guy to pay $2 towards the popcorn fund. It was a dollar a person, but they would ‘treat’ the girls. With such a small amount, there were no objections.

Janice was next up. With her face and figure, she could have the pick of the single guys in the class. Eventually they agreed on Sean Hunt, and Rachael then went and brought him over to the table to meet with Janice. Rachael managed to get her $2 out of him as well. He seemed thrilled at the idea of a ‘date’ with the pretty Janice.

Tony and Mikki would go together, and Tony forked over his $2. Mark paid $2 for Mark and Larissa, and Leon put in a toonie for Carly and him.

That made 16 people, eight couples. Robert wasn’t going to go, so Rachael put in $2 for herself and Bobby, who she jokingly referred to as her date. Layla and Becca had come to the sleepover with Carly, so Rachael asked them next. Becca was interested, but Layla was in one of her snooty moods, and said she wasn’t interested in going to see a movie in a library. Rachael ignored her, and started working on getting a date for Becca. There was a boy she had been crushing on, and Rachael went into her matchmaker mode to convince him to give her $2. Apparently the boy had also been looking at Becca, but was too shy to make the first move. He gladly signed up for the ‘date’.

That made 20, Rachael calculated, with room for up to two more couples if someone else begged to get in. She hadn’t sat down for lunch and there were no spots at the table, with all the new people getting to know each other. She was about to head to another table when Mrs. Deboer came to the door. “Rachael, can I have a moment,” she said.

“Yes ma’am,” Rachael said politely to the principal.

“I’s sorry to cut your lunch short, but I just got a call from the principal over at the primary school. It is about your brother. Apparently he was in a fight.”

“Oh no! Is Bobby all right?”

“Yes he is,” the principal said. “The two boys he was fighting apparently got the worst of it. But your mother couldn’t get away from work at lunchtime, and suggested that you could handle the problem. Will you go over there?”

“Yes, right now. Could you let my afternoon teachers know I will be late or away?”

Rachael hurried off to the primary school, and went to the office, using her ‘old Rachael’ memories from when she attended this school.

Bobby was sitting in the office, along with Danni Stoner. There didn’t seem to be any other boys there. Surely Bobby hadn’t fought with Danni, had he?

Mrs. Hunt was still the principal here, and she walked into the office. “When Mrs. Campbell and Mrs. Pasternak come in, take them to their sons down in the First Aide room,” Mrs. Hunt told the secretary. “Then bring them back here when Miss Scott says they are okay.”

“Rachael, it is nice to see you again. I hear from Mrs. Deboer that you have turned your life around a bit. It is highly unusual for someone so young to be considered a legal caregiver, but your mother told me on the phone that she trusts you. Please come into the office. I was just talking to Jerome and Jeb in the First Aide room.”

Inside there were chairs for each of the boys, but Danni quickly went over to Rachael and climbed onto her lap.

“So you know the young Stoner boy,” the principal said. “Rachael could feel him tense up at the word ‘boy’.

“Yes, I am friends with Danni’s sister,” Rachael said, rubbing Danni’s arm to comfort her at the principal’s inadvertent misgendering. “Is someone coming for her … Danni?”

“Yes, Mrs. Stoner should be here soon. Ah, here she is now.”

Andrea Stoner came into the meeting, and Danni slipped off of Rachael’s lap and crawled up onto hers.

“I want to start by summarizing what the boys in the first aid room said,” Mrs Hunt said. “They claim that Robert here attacked them for no reason at lunch period, knocking Jeb down, giving him a black eye and a significant bump on the back of the head. He then started swinging at Jerome, until the teacher on playground duty broke it up.”

“Is that what happened, Bobby?” Rachael asked.

“Kinda. I came out of the lunchroom to go and play baseball with the guys, and I saw these two big kids picking on Danni. They were trying to stuff her into a trashcan. Jeb was lifting her up, and Jerome was holding the can. I yelled at Jeb to put her down and he just laughed and put her into the can. So I hit him as hard as I could, and then started in on Jerome when Jeb fell down. Jerome hit me a couple times, but I got him in the nose before Mr. Walters came and stopped it.”

“Ah, so that is a very different story,” the principal said. “But why are you calling Daniel ‘she’? He is a boy.”

“That is currently under investigation,” Mrs. Stoner said curtly. “We have suspicions that Danni might be transgendered, and will be seeing a specialist on Thursday. After that time we will meet with you to discuss that matter. But at this point, Bobby is not misgendering his friend, my child.”

“I see. I wonder if this has a bearing on the case. Mr. Walters, the teacher who is on playground monitoring duty this week did say that Daniel … Danni was found in the trashcan, crying, as the three boys were fighting. He stopped the fight and then let him, or her, out before bringing them all here. Unfortunately he is now teaching his class, or we would have him here. We don’t have a lot of staff here at the school. Miss Scott, our custodian, has a first aide certificate, so she has been tending to the other boys until their parents arrive.”

Just then four more people entered the office. Two Grade Four boys, both bigger than Bobby, were each accompanied by a parent, one man and one woman. The man, who had his hand on the shoulder of a boy with a black eye and a bandage on his head started to bluster immediately.

“Where’s the brute that did this to my son,” he shouted. “I’ll have him up on charges. No one messes with the Pasternaks.”

“We are still investigating what happened here,” Mrs. Hunt said. “It seems that your son and his friend assaulted a younger student, and this boy,” she pointed to Bobby, “came to … that student’s rescue.”

“What?” Mr. Pasternak roared at his son. “That little pipsqueak? He’s smaller than either of you. How could you let him knock you down?”

“He surprised us,” Jeb said. “I didn’t expect him to hit me. He got me right in the eye and it knocked me down, and I hit the back of my head on the sidewalk. I didn’t see anything after that.”

“I thought I taught you better than that,” Mr. Pastenak said, taking a swipe at his son, cuffing the back of his head. The boy winced.

“Mr. Pasternak!” Mrs. Hunt said. “Please refrain from striking the child. His head may have been injured, and hitting it will not help.”

“Bah. The kid just needs to man up. Shake it off. He’ll be okay.”

The woman with the other child had just watched this byplay in horror, and turned her son to her. “Jerome, I don’t want you playing with Jeb anymore. I don’t think he is a fit companion for you.”

“Aw Mom,” the boy said. “We was just havin’ fun. We always tease the little fag.”

“Do not use that term in this school again,” an increasingly irate Mrs. Hunt said. “And you two are no longer to come within 25 feet of Danni Stoner. If you do, you will be suspended immediately. That applies to both of you.”

“Fairy,” sneered Mr. Pasternak.

“That will be enough sir,” Mrs. Hunt said. “That is considered hate speech in Ontario. I don’t want to have to involve the police in this matter.”

“I own the police in this town,” the man shouted, getting up and close to Mrs. Hunt’s face. To her credit the principal didn’t back down. “I run a successful business in this town and I can get you fired for talking to me that way.”

“I know about your auto wrecking business, Mr. Pasternak, and you cannot intimidate me with your hollow threats. I’m employed by the county school district, and I doubt you know more than one of the board members. And as I have only been upholding the board rules and policies, I doubt my job is in jeopardy.”

Then it was the man who backed down, seating himself, and pulling his injured son in front of him, as though for a line of defense. He was not used to strong women defying him in such a manner.

“I have decided that it would be best if all four children take the afternoon off. Come back to school tomorrow, and this will not be considered a suspension. Just a cooling off period.”

The Pasternaks and the Campbells left immediately, but Mrs. Stoner stayed, and gestured to Rachael to also stay behind.

“I’m less than satisfied with what has happened here,” Mrs. Stoner told the principal. “I don’t suggest that you didn’t handle things to the best of your ability. I think it is clear to all of us where the problem lies here. But I cannot in all good conscious send Danni back into this environment again. The term is almost over, and she may be transitioning soon. I am seriously considering home schooling her for the rest of this term, and perhaps the next year as well. Then, in a year, she could reintegrate into the system as a new, female student.”

“That assumes that the professionals do diagnose her to be transgendered,” the principal noted.

“I am quite confident that will be the case. I have been watching her closely for the past few days, and the transgender thing makes a lot of sense,” Mrs. Stoner said. “In any respect, is my plan workable?”

“Yes it is. In fact, we can probably set things up so that he … I mean she, will be able to finish her work for this term from home. The same as if she were out ill. Perhaps Bobby will pick up papers and other work for her and take it to her. I can also help you with the home schooling option for next year. Most parents taking that route try to avoid the school in all ways, but I think we can be useful to you if you are willing.”

“Yes, that would be good. Danni has a carer that minds him after school until I get home from work. I will arrange for him to spend the entire days with her, and will provide him with home schooling in the evenings. Rachael? Would you be able to take care of Danni this afternoon? I assume you will be taking Bobby home this afternoon.”

“Yes. I can do that. Danni is a sweetheart and I don’t mind looking after her,” Mrs. Stoner had risen and was walking out of the office, so Rachael and the children followed.

“This will be so helpful, Rachael,” Mrs. Stoner said, opening her purse as she walked to the parking lot. “I need to get back to work as soon as possible.” She handed Rachael several bills. “Please take this for looking after her.”

Rachael took the money, and then unfolded the two twenties. “No, it is too much. Danni is no trouble at all. I don’t need your money.”

Mrs. Stoner was already at her car. “It is well worth it for me to know that someone responsible is looking after her. Bye, bye. Bye sweetie.”

Danni waved with a smile on her face as her mother drove off. Rachael and the two kids started off home. Rachael decided that today in the bakery Bobby and Danni should each have one treat of their choice when she stopped in to buy bread. They were surprised to see Geoff manning the counters.

“You kids are early today,” the friendly baker said. “What can I do for you?”

“I’ll have two more loaves of bread: your wonderful seven-grain type. It is just incredible. I’ve told all the kids at school about it. Then you will have to wait for these urchins to decide what they want as a treat.”

“Ah, that explains it,” Geoff said. “Sales have nearly doubled on that item. I used to do a half batch of 20 loaves a day, but now we are up to 40 a day, and 60 on Friday and Saturday. I should hire you as a salesman.”

“Why are you working the counter?” Rachael asked.

“I try to give Mother an hour off at this time,” he said. “She has been a godsend to me, getting the business started. But I think it is too much for her, working full time. Business is picking up slowly, but I think I will need to hire someone to be a clerk in the shop. Do you know anyone who is looking?”

“I do, as a matter of a fact. My mother has been a waitress for the past 15 years or so. Would that qualify?”

“Does she run cash?”

“Yes, that is part of her job,” Rachael said. “She’s a hard worker too. A single parent has to be.”

“Well, I’m still thinking about it. There might be a problem. I can only afford to pay minimum wage. She probably gets tips where she works now.”

“It is only a café,” Rachael said. “The tips aren’t much, and she has to take two buses to get there and home. She could walk here. I bet minimum might be interesting to her.”

By this time the kids had made their choices. Danni wanted a brownie, until Bobby said he wanted a lemon Danish pastry. Danni quickly changed her mind (more proof that she was a girl inside) and also went for a Danish. Rachael handed Geoff one of the 20s that Mrs. Stoner had given her, and then counted her change.

“This can’t be right?” she said. “You only charged me a dollar for the two pastries. Surely they are more?”

“Special sale today,” Geoff said with a smile. “For the girl who has been promoting my bread in the high school.”

“Thanks,” Rachael said. “Normally we don’t get sweets. We have been trying to slim down. But Bobby here was a prizefighter today, so he gets a treat. And Danni was the prize he fought for, so she gets one too.”

“Oh, these are so good,” Bobby said as he crammed Danish into his face. “Best treat ever.”

“You didn’t get one, Rachael,” Danni noticed. “Do you want to share mine?” She was nibbling hers in a much more restrained manner.”

“No, honey,” Rachael said. But even the smell of the pastry was conspiring to tempt her. “All right. Just a little bit to taste it?” She broke off a small piece and popped it into her mouth. “Oh my God,” she said. “That really is good. I’ll have to tell everyone at school about that too.”

When they got to Grandpa’s house, he wasn’t out on the porch. Rachael tapped lightly on the door, and got no response, so he must be napping, she decided.

They then went over to Miss Lajoie’s so Rachael could check on the dogs. Apparently there was a student getting a lesson, judging my the horrible piano sounds coming from the house, so the three sat on the porch as Bobby told Danni all about his Grandfather, the war hero.

“I have my own hero,” Danni said softly. Bobby was confused.

“You, silly,” she said. “You rescued me from those two mean boys. You are my hero.”

Just then a car pulled up and a well-dressed woman got out. “Are you kids waiting for the next lesson?” she asked.

“No, we are just listening to the free concert,” Rachael said. “Is that your child playing?”

“Yes, Kara is just in her second month,” the woman said. “Do you think she is any good?”

“I’ll bet she is better than she was last month,” Rachael said diplomatically. “Miss Lajoie is a great teacher.”

“Yes she is,” the woman said, rapping on the door. The plinking inside stopped, and soon Miss Lajoie and a girl a couple years younger than Rachael came out with her. Miss Lajoie looked at the kids on the porch, then turned the girl over to her mother, who handed Miss Lajoie several bills.

“I just came by to see my patients,” Rachael said. “We could hear the lesson underway, so we waited out here. Do you have another lesson right away?”

“No, I have an hour before my next one. Does Bobby want to take his next one?”

“I’ll bet he would rather take the dogs for a walk.” Rachael had knelt down and inspected Goldie’s leg, and then scanned the rest of her to ensure nothing else was wrong, and then did the same with Rudolph to make sure he was healthy too. As she stood up, she had an idea.

“I wonder if you could give Danni here a piano lesson?” Rachael looked into her purse. She had over $30 left after stopping at the bakery. “I have $30.”

“It only costs $20 for the introductory half hour,” Miss Lajoie said. “I keep the price low so that people can try it out and see if they like it. It is $30 for a full hour after.”

“Do you want to try the piano?” Rachael asked Danni.

“Daddy would say it is too girly, but yes, I would like to try it.”

“Don’t worry about your father,” Rachael said. “Your mom will look after him.”

“I hate him,” Danni said forcefully, causing Miss Lajoie to be startled. Rachael gave her an ‘I’ll explain later’ look, and she took the youngster into the piano. Bobby had already left with the dogs, so Rachael wandered over to see Grandpa, who was now up.

She made them each a sandwich, since she hadn’t had lunch yet, and the nibble of pastry had only whetted her appetite. She had a long visit with the old man, and found she loved listening to his stories about the old days almost as much as he loved telling them.

They continued to chat until Danni came over, completely ecstatic about her first lesson, causing the old man to smile at her youthful enthusiasm. They went out to the porch and saw that Bobby was playing in the yard with the two dogs. Danni was a bit shy to approach the animals, but Bobby was gentle in introducing the two to her, and soon she was rolling in the yard with them, allowing the dogs to lick her face.

Just then three faces, two of them familiar, appeared walking down the street. “What is that animal doing, eating the face off my little sister,” Mikki quipped.

“He likes me, Kayla. He isn’t hurting me,” Danni said seriously.

“Good. You keep playing. I need to talk to Rachael.”

“Rachael,” Larissa said. “This is my brother Marc. He is in the same grade as your brother Bobby.”

Rachael gulped. The boy was taller than Mikki, although nowhere near as tall as Larissa. Yet. No doubt in a few years he would tower over her. Rachael asked the boy, speaking French “Would you like to play with the dogs?”

“Oui, sil vous plait,” he said, and ran over to join the others.

“So what happened today?” Mikki asked. “I saw Mrs. Deboer take you out of lunch, and then you were gone all afternoon. And Marc, who wants to walk home with us to keep in shape for his hockey this fall, told us about the fight at the primary school. Apparently Bobby is the hero of the school, with all the kids talking about him decking two bullies and then getting expelled.”

“He didn’t get expelled,” Rachael said with a laugh. “Just an afternoon off, which means I got one too. I hope I didn’t miss much. Your Mom hired me to look after Danni too, so we came here.”

She looked over at the melee of kids and dogs. “Bobby, take the dogs back. You guys have probably worn them out. They’ll need a nap now.”

A few minutes later they were all at the Cartright house, with Larissa and Marc getting a first look at how the common folk lived. Marc and Bobby seemed to be on the way to a fast friendship, so Rachael had them go into the backyard and play catch with Bobby’s baseball and gloves.

The girls visited inside for a half hour, until the boys came in looking for snacks. Rachael now always had a bowl of carrot and celery sticks in the fridge, and took some out. Marc look oddly at the vegetables, until Rachael noted that players in the NHL were always looking after their health by eating things like this. Suddenly he became quite interested in the snack. Furthermore, as the boys ate in the livingroom, Rachael heard him mimicking Bobby in ‘eating up the soldiers’. It was clear that while he looked like a teenager, he was also still only nine.

Soon after the others left and Bobby and Rachael made a dinner of salad and chicken breasts that was ready when Maria came home. Over dinner Rachael explained what had happened at school.

“I should have gone,” Maria lamented. “I’m his mother, not you. You should get to just be a kid. But Callie at the café told me that if I left, I better not come back. She acts like she owns the place now. She wants to redo the schedule now. She wants me to work from 6 to 9 for breakfast, 11 to 1 for lunch, and 5 to 8 for the dinner crowd. She is just lazy, and wants me to do it all.”

“That’s crazy,” Rachael said. “You can’t come home between times. The bus ride would take all the break time. You might get an hour or two in the afternoon, but that is no life.”

“Not only that, but she wants me to work all weekends. So she can have them off.”

“Oh Momma, I was going to go to Robert’s farm on Saturday. I guess I can cancel.”

“You will not cancel. I told her I had plans for Saturday. She grudgingly accepted, but said that I shouldn’t plan anything for weekends in the future.”

“That is so unfair. You’ve worked there for 15 years, and she’s been there what, 15 days?” Rachael said.

“Maybe I should start looking for a new job,” Maria said. “The problem is, the café owners in town are pretty tight with each other, and won’t want to hire me away from Joe.”

“I think you need to talk to Geoff,” Rachael said. “He was telling me he is thinking about hiring a full time clerk for the bakery. You could do that?”

“A bakery? I’ve never worked anywhere but the restaurant. What would I do?”

“Mostly just take food from the displays and get money from the customers,” Rachael said. “Pretty much what you do now, but without all the walking. Geoff said there would be no tips, but you wouldn’t need to take the bus. You could walk there from here, even in winter.”

“Hmmm. Maybe I should. I still don’t have to start at the café until 11 tomorrow, although no one knows when Callie will want to start her weird schedule. Maybe I should go meet your baker tomorrow morning. Do you think he would mind if I wore my uniform in there? Should I dress up for an interview?” Maria asked.

“I don’t think he will care. If nothing else, the uniform tells him you are a worker. Go talk to him. Maybe he will let you see the back of the bakery. It would be cool to see how he makes all that great stuff. Oh, and make sure that you don’t get hooked on the lemon Danish pastries. They are seriously addicting. I bought Bobby and Danni one each because of all they went through today, and they both loved them. Danni gave me a bite of hers, and it was like heaven on a bun.”

That night Rachael prayed as usual.

Dear Lord

The list is getting longer and longer. I’m still praying for Mr. Stoner to come to his senses and come back to his family. For Bobby to be safe from bullies, and little Danni too. The new name is Marc Hafleur, who is a fine young man and I think soon to be a good influence on Bobby. They look like Mutt and Jeff together, but seem to becoming friends. Marc is new in town, and needs some. I pray for Jerome Campbell, even though he fought my brother. I think he is really a decent kid, but is influenced by peer pressure from Jeb. Jeb could be good, but with a father like his, I don’t know. And Mom. She really needs a job. Maybe that is the top priority. Although a boyfriend would be nice too. And hopefully film night Thursday can be a success.

I am asking for so much, and not sure how I can help. Let me know if I am doing what you want.

Amen

As she climbed into bed, Rachael felt the familiar tingle. She fell asleep trying to think of how she could help all the people in her life.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

You didn’t think I was going to make you all wait another two weeks for the next chapter, did ya?: Dawn.

WEDNESDAY, May 11, 2016

Rachael rose and got Bobby ready for school, as usual. Today she also had the task of calming Maria down. The woman had a bad night’s sleep the prior evening, thinking about the job interview, and was a mess by morning. She had really never had a job interview before, having just walked into Joe’s as a young woman and being hired on the spot. Then she was young and sexy, and that might have gotten Joe’s attention, even though at the time he was married.

Now she was 15 years older and didn’t feel that she was still sexy. She didn’t know it, but the vast majority of the customers at the café came in specifically because of her. Her friendly, flirty way got the attention of the men, while the women appreciated that she never went beyond flirting a bit. Of course, there were some women who flirted on their own with her, and tried to convince her that ‘changing teams' would improve her life. She turned them down with the same friendly banter she used to make the men leave without feeling rejected.

But now she had to go through the hiring process for only the second time in her life, and she didn’t know what would happen. She envisioned a boardroom and a bank of interviewers asking her questions she couldn’t answer, as a high school dropout.

“That is silly, Momma,” Rachael assured her. “Geoff is a nice guy, and he’s going to be wearing a flour-covered apron, not a three-piece business suit. He’ll ask you basic stuff you know. How you’ll get to work, what kind of record did you have being late at the café, maybe ask you how you deal with a bothersome customer. It is all stuff you know. And it isn’t like you die if you don’t get the job. You still have the café to fall back on, even if it is only for as long as it takes to get a job somewhere else. Don’t worry.”

“Yes mother,” Maria joked. “I am acting like a flitty little teenager, aren’t I? And your advice really helps calm me down. So how am I going to get you out of your Phys. Ed. class to go to the interview with me.”

“Well, it isn’t Phys. Ed. until tomorrow. I’ll probably be in Math when you go to talk to Geoff. But you don’t need me there. If you did, you know I would be there. Just go in and be yourself. If he likes you, and how could he not, you will get the job. Just don’t expect me to stop shopping there if he doesn’t need you. I love his bread too much.”

“Me too,” Maria said. “His bread is the greatest. I doubt his cookies are as good as yours though.”

“Well don’t tell him that,” Rachael said. “But do tell him how much we love the bread from his place.”

“His pastries are good too,” Maria said. “He drops off a tray of them at the café every other day, and the customers just love them. I’ve had one or two stale ones. Even stale they are wonderful.”

“So you have met him then,” Rachael exclaimed.

“No. He just comes to the back and drops them off in the kitchen. I’ve seen him once or twice, as I pick up at the window, but I’ve never spoken to him. He’s never there more than a minute.”

Rachael got on the bus, and sat with Mikki today, with Larissa sitting at the back. Something in the dynamic there had changed, with her sitting with Carly and Becca, while Layla was sitting in the seat ahead. Rachael wondered what had happened, but soon her attention was focused on her friend.

Mikki explained that her Dad was starting to come around. Last night she hadn’t needed to call him. Her mother was talking with him, and for the first time it didn’t end with shouting and a slammed receiver. Mikki was handed the phone, and her father told her that he was hoping to come home on the weekend. Apparently he had told Andrea that he would support Danni however her meeting with the specialist tomorrow went. If it turns out that she was just an effeminate boy, then he was willing to accept that, and not try to “toughen her up.”

“He was using only female pronouns,” Mikki said. “And apparently what he said was what Mom needed to hear. They are willing to talk about things at least. By Friday night he might be back home. Everyone is ecstatic about it except for Danni. She still says she hates him.”

“Wow, Mikki,” Rachael said. “That is so great. Is Danni coming to school today?”

“No. He is going to his carer this morning and will spend the whole day there. He likes the idea. Most of the kids there are preschool, so he is bigger than them. He goes from being the smallest boy in the school in Grade 1 to the biggest in the day care. Oh yeah, Danni spent all day getting Mom to agree to have her take piano lessons with Miss Lajoie. And I have to give you this.”

It was a $20 bill. Apparently Mrs. Stoner had phoned the piano teacher to discuss rates and found out that Rachael had paid for the introductory lesson. Rachael grudgingly accepted the money.

“Are you ready for the Movie night tomorrow?” she asked Mikki.

“Oh definitely. My first date. With Tony DaSilva. Didn’t you predict this? You predicted that Dad would come home, and you predicted that I would date Tony. Do you think he will kiss me? That would be so wonderful.”

“Just don’t push him. Remember, he is only 13 like us. Kissing a girl is a pretty big thing. Heck, dating one is just going to be a huge thing for most of those guys. Remember, girls mature faster than boys. If he kisses you, great. But if not, that just means that it will come later. He will kiss you one day. That is an official Rachael prediction.”

“Then it has to come true,” Mikki laughed.

At school the morning went well, Rachael handing in the assignments that she had missed the prior afternoon dealing with the Bobby problem. Larissa had gathered them up for her and dropped them off with her when they met at Grandpa’s.

At lunch the former nerd table was a cluster of activity, with almost all the dating couples sitting around what now was two tables. Couples were getting to know each other, and were less stilted in talking with each other. There would be one more lunch before Movie Night, and everything was going perfectly.

Of course that was when Mrs. Deboer put her hand on Rachael’s shoulder and led her out of the cafeteria again. “Is it Bobby again?” Rachael asked.

“Yes it is, you better hurry over there. I’ll let your teachers know. At least it will be different ones this time.”

“Yes, and I am doing really well in French and Science now, so I won’t miss much.”

Minutes later a puffing Rachael was again in the primary school outer office. This time she was led down to the First Aid room, where a young woman was cleaning up Bobby and Jeb. Jerome was also there, with a new bandage on his nose.

Rachael let out a small ‘eep’ when she saw her brother, who had one black eye, and cuts to his cheek and chin. She immediately went over to hug him, and he hugged back tight, sobbing a bit from the pain.

“What happened this time?” she asked.

“It was pretty clear,” a man, clearly a teacher, said. “I was on playground patrol, and the boys usually eat pretty fast so they can get out to play ball. Bobby was with Marc, our new student, but Marc had to go to the washroom. So Bobby was alone when he came out the door, and this pair,” he pointed to Jerome and Jeb, “jumped him. Jerome held his arms, and Jeb started pummeling him. Then Bobby got an arm free, and an elbow hit Jerome in the nose again, and he was out of it. After that it was more of a fair fight, if you don’t take into account one boy having three inches and twenty pounds on the other. It lasted less than a minute until I got it broken up, and during that time it was a pretty even fight.”

As the teacher was explaining the fight, Mr. Pasternak walked in, and went right over to his son. “Well, did you get him?” he asked.

“A bit, Dad. He is pretty tough. And Jerome wimped out on me. It was just the two of us.”

“I told you to get four or five kids,” the man said. “Why just two of you?”

“Nobody else would do it,” Jeb said with a sob. “Everybody likes Bobby. Nobody likes me.”

The man slapped his son. “It doesn’t matter if people like you. Nobody likes me either. They have to respect you though. And the way to do that is to make sure that they pay for it when they disrespect you. I gave you $20 to give to kids to help you. Where is it?”

The boy fished out a twenty from his pocket. “Nobody would take money. Even Jerome.” The man grabbed the money and pocketed it.

“Do you mean to tell me that you told your son to pick a fight with Bobby,” an irate Mrs. Hunt said from the back of the room, where she had been standing.

“Yeah, boys fight. It is what they do?”

“Yes, but not at my school. And certainly not by ganging up on another boy. And not when the parent is paying for boys to participate. Your son is immediately and permanently expelled from this school. You may leave with him now. And I will be making a report to Children’s Aid.”

“Hah, I’ll have him back here in a week,” Mr. Pasternak said. “And Children’s Aid doesn’t scare me. A bunch of lessies and queers, all of them.” With that he shoved his son ahead of him out of the room.

Mrs. Hunt turned her attention to Jerome, who was quivering in the corner with his mother’s arms around him. “I heard your mother tell you to stop hanging out with that boy yesterday. And today you teamed up with him to beat up another boy. I have a mind to expel you too, or at least give you a lengthy suspension. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I … I’m sorry,” Jerome said with tears in his eyes. “I … Jeb is my only friend. Nobody else likes us. I had to help him. I didn’t want Bobby to get hurt, but Jeb said if I didn’t help, I couldn’t be his friend.”

“Well, Jeb is gone from the school for good,” Mrs. Hunt said. “And I think your suspension will be …”

“Can I interrupt?” Rachael said, as the principal was about to pass sentence on Jerome. “I think all of us see the source of the problem here, and it has been dealt with firmly. I would like to suggest first of all that Bobby and Jerome shake hands and agree to never fight again. Can you boys do that?”

Bobby looked reluctant; while Jerome seemed eager to do anything he could to atone for his actions. After a few seconds they moved together and shook hands. Jerome softly said: “I’m sorry. I will never do that again.” Bobby didn’t speak.

“Now the next part of my idea is that Bobby and Jerome, for the next two weeks at least, will eat lunch together. A big part of Jeb’s control over Jerome was that they were pariahs in the playground, and had to stick together. If Jerome has a better role model to deal with, I think he can turn himself around.” Rachael said.

“But you are suggesting no suspension then?” Mrs Hunt said.

“I don’t think Jerome is a bad kid. He was just easily influenced. A week or two away from school won’t help him at all. Hanging around with Bobby, Marc, and the baseball gang might help. I know it is not traditional handling of a case like this, but I think it will work,” Rachael replied.

“What is not traditional is the carer of the attacked child not wanting blood from all of the attackers,” Mrs. Hunt said. She turned to Jerome’s mother. “Do you agree to this, Mrs. Campbell?”

“Oh I do, and do thank you miss. You are an angel. Jerome is not a bad boy, but once he started hanging out with that Pasternak child two years ago he has been a problem. His marks dropped, and he became surly and uncooperative at home. I hope this can help. I couldn’t argue about a suspension: in fact I thought for a minute he was also going to be expelled. But this? It is a boon from heaven,” she said.

“Aptly put,” Rachael said with a smile. “Now, if you will all excuse us, I need to talk with Bobby privately for a few minutes.”

She took Bobby out into the hall, and as she expected he was not happy about her idea at all.

“He tried to beat me up,” the boy said. “And now you want me to be his friend?”

“Yes I do,” Rachael said. “For at least the next two weeks. If after that you want to drop him, you can, but during that time other students will see you hanging out together and maybe he can find some other friends. Can you do this for me?”

“I don’t know, Rachael,” the boy hesitated.

“Remember old Rachael, and how you used to fight with her?”

“Mostly she just beat me up,” Bobby recounted.

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” she said. “But then I decided I needed to be nice to people, and that included you. Now everything is better, right?”

“Way better.”

“Well, let’s try the same thing again, but with Jerome. Maybe it will turn out way better too.”

“Well, okay. For two weeks,” Bobby agreed.

He then walked out of the school with Rachael, where they saw Jerome waving goodbye to his mother. Bobby walked up to the other boy. “Come on, Jerome. Let’s go over to the ball diamond. We will be too late to get into the game, but I’ll bet all the other guys will want to see our cuts and stuff.”

Jerome’s eyes lit up as the boy he was helping beat up a half hour earlier was showing him friendship. They turned and walked towards the playground, only to hear the warning bell before they were halfway there.

The bell jolted Rachael into action too, and she ran back to her middle school, arriving at the Science lab just in time to beat the professor in.

At the end of the day the girls met at Rachael’s locker and went to get Bobby and Marc for the walk home. “Wow, you are going to have a real shiner,” Larissa told Bobby. She turned to Marc. “How come you didn’t get involved?”

“I was in the washroom and missed the whole thing, Mr. Walters was dragging them apart when I got out.”

“It’s probably a good thing he was away,” Rachael said. “If there had been two of them, and one was tall as Marc, then it wouldn’t have looked like a beating, but more like a gang fight.”

“Hah,” Bobby snorted. “If Marc was there they wouldn’t have jumped me. They are cowards, picking on little kids and outnumbering people. Marc and I would have creamed them, and they know it.”

“Well I don’t want you two fighting. It might be okay on the hockey rink,” she looked at Marc, “but it is not okay outside of it. Is that clear?”

“Yes Rachael,” Bobby said.

“Yes Rachael,” Marc said, surprising her. She hadn’t meant to chastise him. After all, he was already several inches taller than her.

“Well, let’s all stop in for a Danish at the bakery. Mikki gave me a twenty this morning, and it is burning a hole in my pocket. Mikki, can I trust you to carry one home to Danni without nibbling on it?”

“I dunno. Probably not. I should buy a half dozen, so she will get one even if Lyle finds out about them too. And Mom likes them as well.

“We need five Danish to go for us,” Rachael waved at the group for Mrs. Barron, “and another six in a bag for Mikki,” Rachael laid her twenty on the counter. She saw the baker poke his head out of the back and go over to his mother, whispering in her ear. “Hi Geoff,” she said.

“Hi Rachael. I was just telling mother that she is to charge that with the staff discount,” he said with a smile.

It took Rachael a minute to work it out, and then her eyes widened. “Momma! Is she going to be working here?”

“I sure hope so,” Mrs. Barron said from behind the counter. “I can really use the help. The store was so slow when we first opened, but now it is starting to get busy and it is too much for me.”

“She has to give notice to her current boss,” Geoff said. “I want her to start as soon as possible.”

“That’s great,” Rachael said as she led a group of satisfied Danish-munchers out of the store.

“These are so good,” Mikki said. “I can just feel the pounds marching back onto my hips. And I don’t care. They are just so good.”

“A little treat once in a while doesn’t hurt,” Rachael said. “You just want to keep your hands out of that bag. Including when you get it home.” Mikki made a sad face, so Rachael added: “How much weight have you lost so far?”

That made Mikki smile again. “Nearly 10 pounds. And that is only two weeks. Maybe by summer we can be as skinny as Larissa here.”

“Do you do bikinis here?” the French girl asked. “I know that there is no nude beaches in Canada.”

“Not around here, anyway,” Rachael said. “Did you do nude beaches in France?”

“Sometimes,” the tall girl said. “But mostly it was bikinis. Will you girls go shopping with me one day to get a new suit? I worry that my old ones from France might be … too revealing for Canada.”

“Yeah, both Mikki and I will need new ones,” Rachael said. “I don’t know whether I can raise up the money though.”

“You could if you stopped buying treats for your friends, and my family,” Mikki retorted. “You know when Mom finds out, she will just give you another $20 tomorrow. Speaking of money, who is buying snacks for our movie night tomorrow?”

“Your man. Tony volunteered. He said his Dad can get stuff like that wholesale, so he is buying a carton of those giant popcorns. He will sell it back to us at cost for each movie night. And we are getting some cases of pop, and bottled water. Tony is storing the stuff we need tomorrow in their cooler, so we will have cold pop and water. He just needs some guys to carry it to the library.”

“It is practically next door. There should be no problem getting willing volunteers.”

“The lights in this place?” Larissa asked. “They can dim down?”

“Yes, there is a control to dim the lights. We can’t make it totally dark, but it will be quite cozy,” Rachael said. “Why? Are you plotting something to do with Mark?”

“I might have some ideas,” Larissa said. “I need to come early, and pick a cozy corner. My Mama is coming at the end to pick all of us up, and give us a ride home. It will be dark at 10 p.m.”

“That is great,” Rachael said. She rubbed her hands together and quoted from some movie or TV show “I love it when a plan comes together.” All the girls laughed.

There was a short stop at Grandpa’s to say hi, and for Marc to speak to the old man in French. When they left, Mikki asked: “What did Marc say that got your grandfather so upset?”

“He was not upset,” Rachael clarified. “Marc just told him how honored he was to meet one of the men who liberated his country so many years ago. The French still honor those men, and tend the graves over there. Marc told him about the grave his school went to last year, and it was near where Grandpa fought. Some of his friends might be in graves there.”

The group split at Rachael’s home, and when they came in they found Maria in tears on the sofa.

“Momma, what happened, why are you home so early?”

“It started out as the best day ever,” her mother sobbed. “Geoff was so nice. He really is a hunk, and so friendly. I also met his mother, who showed me around. I was expecting an interview, but they pretty much offered me the job the minute I walked in.”

“So I went to the café after that, and that’s when things went to hell. I gave notice to Joe, and Callie started in on me right away, and told me to get out. So I came home. That isn’t a bad thing. I’ll just go to the bakery tomorrow morning, and if they aren’t ready for me I will work for free. It will be like training.”

“But then things got worse,” Maria wailed, holding up a letter. “This came in the mail. Mr. Hodgins, the owner of this house, died a few months ago. He always kept the rent down for me. We only pay $400 a month for this place. But with him gone, a nephew or something owns it now, and he wants more money. He said he could do $900 a month, which is probably fair for a place like this. But I can’t afford that much on a minimum wage salary. We have two months until we need to move. Where will we find a new place in that time? And for even $500 a month we won’t be able to get a three-bedroom place.” Maria just broke down in tears.

Rachael went and put her arm around her mother and pulled her close. “It will be all right,” she said. “We may have some tough times, but it will all work out in the end. If we have to get a two-bedroom place, then Bobby and I will room together, won’t we Tiger.” Bobby nodded. He couldn’t remember his mother being this upset, and it scared him. “In fact, if we have to all three of us could share a one-bedroom place. It won’t be fun, but we are a family, and we all pull together. We are a team.”

Maria’s sobbing slowly waned and she hugged her daughter tighter, and then opened an arm for Bobby to join it. “I have the best kids in the world,” she sobbed. “My world is falling apart, and yet they are there for me. And here I am, wallowing in my pity all afternoon, and I haven’t even made them a dinner.”

“That can be fixed quickly,” Rachael popped up. “What will it be, Bobby? Kraft Dinner with tuna, or sloppy joes.”

“Sloppy joes, sloppy joes,” the boy chanted and all three of them moved into the kitchen to prepare what would be for them an early dinner.

That night, after a long read with Bobby where they finished the first Harry Potter, Rachael found herself kneeling by the bed.

Dear Lord

Please help my Momma have strength. I know you have a plan for us, but not knowing what will happen has Momma scared. Scared for us. Please help her cope, especially with her new job. I am trying to help. I think I helped Jerome Campbell today. Look after everyone for me.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Just a short chapter that sets things up for the two big chapters to come (20 and 21). Dawn.

THURSDAY, May 12, 2016

It was a morning of chaos in the Cartright household. It was Movie Day for Rachael, and the fact that Maria was going to do her first day at the bakery, instead of the café, meant that she would be able to look after Bobby in the evening now. The women offered to let the lad stay, but he was almost as excited about the event as Rachael, and promised to be good and quiet during the movie. Rachael decided to let him come.

Maria was in that bit of a panic that comes with the first day on a new job. She had worn her work uniform to the interview, and Geoff had said they would be fine for working in the bakery. That was good, as she had four of them in good condition, as well as some older ones. She tended to buy a new one every year, with her name stitched on her ample bosom. Geoff said the bakery supplied aprons for the messy parts of the job. Apparently she would be trained to ice many of the donuts and pastries, as well as several other prep jobs.

The one job she looked at with most trepidation was running the bread slicer. It had rows of razor-sharp blades, one for each slice, and looked like it could do serious damage to a hand or arm if it was not treated correctly. There were other machines in the back that were also big and scary, but Geoff said she wouldn’t have to run them.

Finally, there was the issue of where to live. Maria planned to buy a copy of the local paper, and look at ads in there, while Rachael intended to use part of her lunch period to look for ads online. Maria would mention the situation to Geoff, as he or his mother might know of someone with a cheap apartment to rent. There was no hope of the family getting another house.

Maria was first to leave for a change. She was expected in at 8 a.m. to prepare things for the bakery opening at 9. She left, confident that Rachael would get her brother to the bus on time, and then herself.

On the bus to school Rachael told Mikki the bad news about the house. “It means that we might move somewhere else. I won’t be so close to you and Larissa, and possibly we might even have to go to new schools in September,” Rachael said.

“No, we are in Grade 8 now. There is only the one high school for the entire town, so we will be together for that. But Marc will be upset if Bobby goes to another school, and Danni will be heartbroken if he isn’t able to come and play on her computer games. She talks about him all the time.”

At school it was an A day, so there was French and double Phys. Ed. in the morning. Rachael’s basketball team was triumphant again. The once inept girls had learned to play as a team, and towering Larissa had been training with Mark at lunch, and now was a more important scorer for the team then Rachael. As captain, Rachael made sure that either she or Larissa was on the floor at any time, and occasionally they would play together, which normally resulted in them running up points. All the girls got time in the game, and this was a large reason why they were so improved. Some of the other teams played their best players through most of the game, leaving them tired at the end, with subs who had little interest in the game, having spent most of it on the bench.

Rachael finally got a lunch with Robert, who was still bummed out that he couldn’t come to Movie Night. Instead he was planning for a full day at the farm on Saturday with Rachael. One of his brothers would pick her up at 8 a.m., and then they would have the entire day together until after the family supper, with Rachael getting a ride home after 7 p.m.

Tony reported that all the snacks were well in hand. He had pop and water in the coolers, and was bringing three big bags of popcorn. He had also bought a package of popcorn container drums from the supply place, and would take a couple dozen of them. He reported that he had spent eight dollars more than the $40 Rachael had given him. That deficit was reduced by $4 over the course of the lunch period as a final two more couples asked to come. With fewer supplies to buy next week, the four dollars outstanding would be easily covered. If the whole thing was a flop, Rachael promised to cover the deficit.

That suggestion was quickly vetoed by the others at the table, who all said that they would put in another dollar to make up the difference. So many volunteered that probably only a quarter from each person would be enough.

In the afternoon, something finally happened in History class to interest Rachael. The teacher, Mr. Churchill, announced that he had completed the required coursework for the term, and the class had two options for the balance of the term. There was an optional unit of coursework that he could teach, or he could allow the students to do a special project.

The project would be done as teamwork, in groups of four. Each group was to make a video program of some historical item in the city, or personal recollections of people over the age of 50, talking about how the city had changed since they were young. In the class of 28, there would be seven projects, and in the other class a similar number. Of the 14 projects, he said that as many as 10 could be aired on the cable TV community access channel, where Mr. Churchill was a volunteer.

The students would work on their videos for the next month, and then show them in class on the last week of classes. Each video was to be 22 minutes long, and Mr. Churchill would approve the topics once the groups had them.

The class voted on the options, and almost everyone in the class voted for videos. “Excellent. I will have to ask the other class tomorrow about their wishes, but even if only four or five want videos, then we will go that route,” Mr. Churchill said.

“You will be on my team, right Rachael?” Mikki said.

“Yes,” Rachael replied. “And we need Larissa too, for what I’m thinking of.”

“What? You have a topic already?”

“Yes. Grandpa. We can film him talking about the war. Larissa can tell about how the French honor the graves. She can be the hostess for the show. She is pretty enough.”

“We need a third person?” Mikki said. “Carly?”

“Won’t she want to work with Layla and Becca?”

“Haven’t you heard? Layla no longer hangs out with them. That’s why Larissa gets a seat at the back of the bus in the mornings. I don’t know what Becca will do though.”

In the end Becca joined up with Lucy and Janice, and one other girl, and Carly joined in with Mikki and Rachael. Mikki was going to be the cameraperson, using one of her expensive cameras. Rachael would be the scriptwriter, and Larissa would be the hostess on camera, and Carly would go on camera to do an introduction and conclusion for the story. She would also help Mikki as an editor in putting the finished story together, since both of them had Mac computers.

The girls walked straight home after school to change and have a quick meal. Rachael had told Grandpa the day before that they wouldn’t be able to stop in, but he waved at them as they marched past. Maria was still working at the bakery, and got home at 6:30, just as Rachael and Bobby were ready to walk back to the library. The show was to start at 8, but Rachael wanted to be there early to set up. Maria kissed the kids, and saw that they had left her a plate of Kraft Dinner with tuna in the oven warmer.

They were at the library at 6:50, and started setting up. Larissa played with the lights, and was happy to find that they dimmed sufficiently, although Rachael spoiled that by mentioning that there would also be quite a lot of light coming from the video projector. The tall girl winced, and looked around for the darkest, quietest corner to claim the space for her and Mark.

They set the chairs up in pairs, with a little room around each pair. They were only stacking chairs very similar to the school cafeteria, not plush theater seats, but what do you want for a buck?

At about a quarter to eight most of the kids started coming in, getting dropped off by parents. Some had gone the whole way with the date thing, with one parent dropping off a couple together, while a few others came as a group, and many came singly and paired up when they got in.

Everyone was allowed one drink from the cooler that Tony had brought over from the store in, and Bobby was in charge of handing out the little boxes of popcorn that Tony and Mikki were filling. As a surprise she had asked Lucy go onto the Internet earlier in the day to get ‘coming attractions’ from YouTube. There was one for Sound of Music, and the other was The Longest Day. The idea was that the group would vote on which movie they wanted to see next week. And there were also two old cartoons: Dudley Do-right, and Felix the Cat that were played before starting the main attraction. Finally, Rachael started Casablanca.

For the next hour and a half the room was silent. Heather, the librarian on duty that night, popped her head in several times, but was happy to see that the kids were all attentively watching the movie. Of course she couldn’t see into the corner with Larissa and Mark, who were definitely not watching the movie. With that exception, the couples were well behaved. Most of them were holding hands, and in a few cases the boy had an arm around his date’s shoulder.

Bobby was not interested in the movie at all, but Rachael had him walking amongst the couples, giving new popcorn to those who had run out.

Finally, the video played “Louie, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship” and then the credits started to roll. Students started to stand up, and Rachael had Bobby turn up the houselights. Rachael went to the front.

“All right everyone,” she said loudly, “I really enjoyed that, and I think a lot of the rest of you did too. If we want to be able to do it again, then we have to leave this place spotless. There is a vacuum in the closet: Tony, could you get it? The rest of you boys, move all the chairs to the side of the room. We will vacuum one side at a time. There is a lot of popcorn on the floor.”

She looked into the corner. “Mikki, can you get a bucket of water? I think we need to cool down that pair in the corner.” Everyone laughed, as Larissa and Mark were still kissing. Rachael started singing, and soon all the girls were joining in.

“A kiss is still a kiss / A sigh is just a sigh / The fundamental things apply / As time goes by. / And when two lovers woo, / They still say, "I love you" / On that you can rely / No matter what the future brings.”

The chorus finally got Larissa’s attention, and she looked up with a huge grin on her face. “Oh? Is it over?”

“Come on, time to help with the cleanup.”

With many willing hands, the room was tidied up and restored to its original position in about 15 minutes, and when Heather came up to warn them that the library was closing in 10 minutes, she was impressed at how spotless the room was. “You can definitely come back next week,” she told Rachael. “Agnes was sure that the place would be a mess, and asked the custodian to come in tomorrow. I guess we’ll have to find something else for him to do.”

Parents were already lined up at the curb to pick up their kids, and Mrs. Hafleur was there for Larissa, Mikki, Rachael and Bobby, who were the last to leave, with Heather locking the library door as they got into the car.

“So, how did your date go?” Mrs. Hafleur asked as they drove home.

“Pretty good,” Larissa replied without going into detail. “I think I like Canada now.”

“You have a boyfriend?”

“Yes, I have a boyfriend.”

“I will want to meet him. Have him over to dinner,” the woman said.

“Moooother,” Larissa complained. “It was only a first date. It isn’t like he proposed or anything.”

“I certainly hope not? He is only 13 too? In France she was always getting asked out by boys that were far too old for her,” Mrs. Hafleur said.

Bobby and Rachael didn’t hear more of the conversation, as they were home, and left Larrisa and her mother to bicker on through the ride home.

“It is way past your bedtime, Bobby,” Rachael said as they entered the house. “No time for reading tonight. I want you in bed in two minutes, or you won’t be able to come next week.”

“You are quite the little mother,” Maria said as she got up from the sofa, where she had been napping. “Did it go well?”

“Yes, I think so. Most of the kids were well behaved. We cleaned up nicely at the end, and the library said we can come back next week. I guess we could have four or five more of these before the summer vacations start.”

“How did your day go?”

“It was wonderful,” Maria said. “Mrs. Baron is a doll, so helpful in showing me what to do and where everything is kept. There is so much to know though. What everything costs, and questions like does this or that have gluten in it. But Geoff is always there if I have a question I can’t handle, at least until 4 p.m. Did you know he works almost around the clock?”

“He told me he puts in long hours.”

“He leaves at four for his little rooms upstairs, and he comes back down at 11. Apparently he has a nap while the bread is rising, but still, other than Sundays he gets no time off.”

“Well,” Rachael said, “that means you have a mission. You need to be so helpful that he can get off earlier. At least 1 or 2 o’clock. Everyone needs some down time. Oh, I need to make lunches. Come into the kitchen and we will chat as I do them.

For the next 10 minutes Maria happily recounted her day, and then went into the negative part of the day. She had found that all the apartments in the paper were out of her price range. They still didn’t have a place to live.

“What about the Art Gallery?” Rachael asked. “I thought of that when you mentioned Geoff’s apartment. They must have an apartment above their place too. I know Tony lives upstairs at their place. Maybe John and Paul would rent us their place? Would it be in our budget? I know they live out in the country some place, so they wouldn’t want it for anything but storage.”

“That might work,” Maria said. “We will see them after church on Sunday. Let’s ask them then.”

“Or I could ask them on the way home tomorrow, if they are in?”

“No honey,” Maria decided. “I should be the one who does this. Please leave it for Sunday. And why are you making four lunches?”

“Four?” Rachael asked. “Bobby, you, me, and … I don’t know who this is for. I guess it was just the last two slices in the loaf. And now there is only one bologna slice left.” She put it on the last sandwich.

“You could put the extra one in the fridge,” Maria suggested.

“No, it will be all yucky by Monday,” Rachael noted. “I’ll take two tomorrow. Maybe someone will need a lunch or something. It is so strange that I made an extra without thinking about it.”

“Well I am glad to have you helping so much,” Maria said. “I’ve never given you an allowance before … we just couldn’t afford it. I think once I start getting money from the bakery you should get a few dollars. On top of the money you get for looking after your brother. A teen girl needs a little money.”

“Mom, first we need to find a place to live. After we know what that is going to cost we can start spending your money.”

That night, Rachael knelt down

Dear Lord

Please let John and Paul rent us the apartment. I’m pretty sure it is only a two bedroom place, so Bobby and I will have to share, but that is okay. But we like each other, so that should work. I will make it work. And please bless all the usual suspects, she said giggling at using the term from Casablanca.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Another short chapter, but I just finished writing Chapter 20, which is huge at 7000 words. It will be up tomorrow morning: Dawn.

FRIDAY, May 13, 2016

Classes at school were interesting for Rachael. Most of the boys from movie night were making bad Humphrey Bogart impressions, and when Larissa got on the bus in the morning the girls had serenaded her with another chorus of A Kiss is Still a Kiss. She got that at lunch too.

The big surprise at lunch was that Leon, Carly, Mark, Becca and several others from the A-list table moved over and there was now a third table in the former Nerd group. Mikki looked at her, and the unspoken communication was that they had succeeded, and now the former nerd group was the new A-list of the school

Carla explained that Layla had started speaking badly about the new group, criticizing the movie night, and saying that the sleepover had been lame. Generally, she was opposed to anything that Rachael was doing, and referred to her as ‘the overweight EMO muppet’. The others had finally just gotten fed up, and had moved to the new group, which seemed to be inviting to all. And they were welcomed in.

Rachael ignored all the infighting, and sat next to Robert, trying to get details on what would happen tomorrow. And in spite of all the new people in the group, there was no one who seemed to need the extra sandwich in her bag. She knew that there were any number of boys who would have eaten it … teen boys are eating machines. But something made her hold on to it.

She did notice Neal sitting at the table alone. Most of the boys were with their Movie Night dates. She slid over to see Neal sketching away in a notebook. “Where is Ruth?” Rachael asked.

“Her dad didn’t like the idea that she went out on a date,” Neal said. “She can’t come anymore. He says she is too young. It’s okay, we both had fun, and now whatever happens, we will already have had a first date. Not many kids can say that in Grade Eight.”

“You are taking it well,” Rachael noted. “Can I see what you are drawing in your book?”

Neal was hesitant, but then allowed Rachael to look through the book. She was impressed. The boy seemed to have real talent. About half of the book was derivative superhero sketches, with muscular men in capes, and buxom women with impossible figures. But there was also a really good sketch of Ruth, and several quite funny cartoons that Rachael was able to recognize as parody images of the teachers at the school.

“You know, you should show these to John Macarthur, a painter who just opened the new art gallery.” Rachael said.

“The one next to that good bakery?” Neal said.

“Yes. I’ve met John, and I think he would like to see your book.”

“It isn’t very good,” the boy said.

“You aren’t very old,” Rachael countered. “But John will be able to tell if you have any talent, and if you should keep working on it. He might also be able to give you some tips and pointers.”

“You think he would?”

“I bet he would. He is a really nice guy. Mention my name, I think he likes me.”

“Everyone likes you, Rachael,” Neal said. “I wish I knew why.”

“Maybe it’s because I like everybody,” the girl said, just before the bell signifying the end of the lunch rang.

At the end of the day, the usual suspects were walking home. Tony now was a part of the group, at least for the first few blocks until they got to his parents’ store. Larissa was a favored customer of Mrs DaSilva, as one of the few Italian speakers in the city. She was also a good customer, picking up more fruits and vegetables for her family. Mikki also got a smile from the cheerful storekeeper, as her son’s girlfriend, and Bobby was a favorite, getting his daily apple. When Mrs. DaSilva learned that Danni would no longer be walking with the others, she insisted that Mikki take a free apple to ‘the little girl.’

Rachael was also in an apple buying mood, and picked out a rather large sack of them. “These are all so pretty”, she mentioned to Tony’s mother. “Do you have any seconds? Ones with bruises and such?”

“Yes I do, bambina,” she said. “What you want them for? Making pies, or cider?”

“No. Treats for horses. They don’t care how pretty an apple looks. Just how nice it tastes.”

Mrs. DaSilva went into the back and brought out some windfall apples. “These are half price,” she said. “How many do you want?”

“Those are perfect. About eight of them, and about eight of the eating ones as well.”

The group then went to the bakery, where Maria was working alone on her second day on the job. Mrs. Barron had not been feeling well, so had gone home. Treats were purchased all around, although both Mikki and Rachael refrained. Larissa, who was incapable of putting on weight, could not be denied, and Bobby got another Danish in spite of also having an apple.

When they left the bakery, Rachael found that John and Paul were out, so her offer to talk to them last night had been moot. The group went past the beauty shop, which still had an “opening soon” sign on the window. After that came a gap where a power transmission line ran, and a drainage ditch went across the road and into town. Rachael looked down the easement, and saw what appeared to be a pile of old clothes on the ground.

“Look, what is that over there?” she said pointing. As she did, the pile moved a bit.

“Ugh, it’s a person,” Mikki said. “A hobo or something. Let’s get away.”

“No. He might need help. You guys stay here, and go for help if there is a problem. I need to see what it is.”

Rachael approached the pile, and indeed it was a man, sleeping or passed out on the dirt. She wrinkled her nose as she got close. The man was rather aromatic, so to speak. She bravely stuck out a hand, and pushed the man’s shoulder.

“Uhhhh,” he man groaned, and looked up at her. “He hadn’t shaved in weeks, and his hair was long and stringy, as though it hadn’t been washed in months. “Wadya want,” he groaned. “I wasn’t doin’ nuthin’.”

“Are you all right?” Rachael asked? “Do you need anything?”

“I’m hungover. And I need a drink,” the man said.

Rachael reached into her pack and pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to the man. She noticed the spare sandwich in there.

“Here,” she uncapped the water and gave it to the man. He took one small sip and spat it out.

“Thas not a proper drink,” he said. “Thas just water.”

“It it good for you,” Rachael said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You need to keep hydrated. Water is good. It is liquor that is bad for you. I want you to stop drinking it. Have you eaten today?”

“Eaten? No not today, or yesterday. I went to the mission on Wednesday, I think. No place to eat on Thursdays. And nothing yet today.”

“Here,” Rachael fished the sandwich out of her bag. “Eat this.”

The man quickly unwrapped it and ate it in several bites. “’s good,” he pronounced. “He took a sip of water from the bottle. Water is good too.”

“What is your name? I’m Rachael.”

“Gary. Gary Sovey. Thanks Angel.”

“I won’t be around tomorrow, but here. Take two apples,” she got some of the good ones from her bag. “Eat these tomorrow, if you can’t get anything better.”

Rachael turned and walked back to her friends.

“He is okay,” she said. “He’s just had a bit too much to drink.”

“Did you just feed that man?” Mikki asked in amazement.

“Of course. I had food. He needed some. So I gave it to him.”

“Girl, you are amazing,” Mikki said as they turned and started to walk towards Grandpa’s.

* * *

Gary Sovey slept uncomfortably on the damp ground. He had passed out a few nights before, after finishing the cheap bottle of rum he had bought with the last of his welfare money. It was gone in less than two weeks, as usual, and it would be at least two weeks until he got more. Now the DTs hit. Delirium tremens. The bane of the binge drinker. The only cure was another drink, continuing the cycle.

Gary felt a poke on his arm. Probably the cops, making him move along. He had a hidey hole, but hadn’t made it there last night, or whenever he had moved to this location.

“Wadya want,” he groaned. “I wasn’t doin’ nuthin’.”

“Are you all right,” a feminine voice asked? “Do you need anything?”

“I’m hungover. And I need a drink,” the man replied. He looked at her, and nearly had to look away. He could only see a blinding white light, with the faint image of a girl within. It must be an Angel, he decided.

“Here,” she gave the man a bottle. He took one small sip and spat it out.

“Thas not a proper drink,” he said. “Thas just water.”

“It it good for you,” the Angel said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “You need to keep hydrated. Water is good. It is liquor that is bad for you. I want you to stop drinking it. Have you eaten today?”

Water was good tasting, suddenly. And the Angel said he had to stop drinking alcohol. Somehow he knew that he must do what she told him.

“Eaten? No not today, or yesterday. I went to the mission on Wednesday, I think. No place to eat on Thursdays. And nothing yet today.”

“Here,” the Angel gave him some food. “Eat this.”

He ate it, and it was the most wonderful thing he had ever tasted. “’s good,” he pronounced. “He took a sip of water from the bottle. Water is good too.”

“What is your name? I’m Rachael.”

“Gary. Gary Sovey. Thanks Angel.”

“I won’t be around tomorrow, but here. Take two apples,” she got some of the good ones from her bag. “Eat these tomorrow, if you can’t get anything better.”

Gary watched the Angel walk away. There was another group of glowing Angels in the distance, and she joined them, and then the group walked away.

He looked at the two apples she had left him. He was still a little hungry, and normally would have immediately eaten the available food. But the Angel had said he couldn’t eat them until the next day, and he knew that he had to follow the word of the Angel. He could no longer drink, and he had to wait for tomorrow to eat the apples.

He thought some more. I need to do something to pay the Angel back. What is it that he could do, a drunken wreck of a man, to make a beautiful Angel happy. He strove to fight the DTs as he pondered his problem, and then stood up and staggered towards his hidey-hole.

* * *

That night Maria came home a little after six. She now had a key to the bakery, and had spent the last two hours there alone after Geoff had gone up to sleep. She had worked at the café for 15 years, and never was trusted with a key. She was happy. She was getting home an hour earlier, giving her more time to spend with her kids, and she enjoyed working at the bakery. Geoff was everything Joe wasn’t: giving, friendly, cheerful and fair. He seemed to treat her as more than just an employee, but as a friend, or more.

Even though it was an hour earlier, Maria found that her kids still had a dinner waiting for her. It was over the dinner table that she mentioned to Rachael that she was working tomorrow. The young girl looked up with frightened eyes.

“But who will look after Bobby?” she said. “Should I phone the farm and cancel my visit tomorrow?”

“No need,” Maria said with a smile. “I talked this over with Geoff, and he said I could take Bobby in to work with me tomorrow. There is a huge pile of 40 kg sacks of flour in one corner, and that can be a fort for him to play on for a couple of hours in the morning. He will be safe up there, and can watch all the ovens and machines when he is not playing in his little army worlds.”

“But will he stay there for the whole day?” Rachael asked.

“No. I phoned Mrs. Hafleur, and we had a long talk. We both agree that the boys are getting to be old enough that they can go to the park together. Marc and another friend will walk to the bakery, and then the three of them can walk to the park and play catch, or baseball, or whatever little boys do. They will go to the Lafleur house for lunch, and maybe some video games, and then come back to the park later if they want. I think it will be good for him to get some ‘boy time’ in.”

“It sounds good,” Rachael said. “But looking after Bobby is my job. I should cancel the farm.”

“It isn’t a 7-days a week job. Even Geoff gives me a day or two off each week. You deserve a day off from looking after Bobby. Besides, how would the young man at the farm feel if you cancelled, especially at the last minute?”

Rachael thought about Robert. He would be devastated. He had been planning this day for weeks now, and if she cancelled on him it would seem like she didn’t care for him. And, to her surprise, she did. A lot.

“You are right Momma. And here I thought you and Bobby were going to sleep in tomorrow. But you will be leaving a little before 8, when my ride comes.”

After the dishes were cleared up and washed, Maria was astounded at how early it was. This was the time when she would be trudging home from the café. “What will we do with this extra spare time?” she asked.

“We should get some board games at the next yard sale we find,” Rachael suggested. “Something Bobby would like that wouldn’t bore the two of us. But until then, there is always Harry Potter. We could read here on the couch.”

“No,” Bobby insisted. “Harry Potter is for when I am snuggled into bed. We can read my other books.”

“Okay. But do you have any homework?” Rachael asked.

“Oh yeah, I have an arithmetic sheet to do. Can you help me with it?”

The three of them gathered around the dining room table, and watched as Bobby worked through the math problems. When he got to the questions at the back of the sheet, labeled ‘Bonus Questions’ he started having troubles. But Rachael and Maria helped him work through the process for each problem, and soon Bobby was understanding and able to do many of the questions on his own. By the time he was finished, he was ready for his bath, and bed, a bit early so he could have a long read of Harry Potter in his favorite way, with his sister on one side of him, and his mother on the other in his small bed.

Dear Lord, Rachael said later

Thank you again for this life. Everything is going great, especially now that we think we will have a new place to live in. Moving will be a big job though. I won’t name all the people I have to bless, there are just too many. You know who they are, and how much they mean to me. Am I doing what I should be? I know you wanted me to be good to everyone, and I’m trying. Let me know if it is not enough.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Here is the long awaited farm day. And tomorrow I will have another chapter just as long about more of the adventures of the Cartright family: Dawn.

SATURDAY, May 14, 2016

The Cartright family was up early on Saturday, and Rachael made pancakes and biscuits for breakfast. The night before she had baked a batch of cookies after Bobby fell asleep, and they were in her backpack as a gift to give to the Jackson’s for having her, snuggled in on top of her apples.

Maria and Bobby were at the door to leave when a pickup truck pulled into the lane. Inside were Robert and an older boy who clearly was his brother based on the similar features in their face and identical hair color.

Maria took a minute to say hello to Robert, who introduced his brother Steve as the truck driver. But then she and Bobby had to hustle to get to the bakery by eight.

Rachael grabbed her bag, and then got into the cab of the dusty truck between the two boys. After Steve pulled out, she reached into her bag, and pulled out a buttered biscuit for each boy.

“Ummm, these are good,” Steve said, driving with one hand as he munched with the other. “Better than Mom’s, I think. But don’t tell her I said so.”

“I have cookies too,” Rachael said, “but they are for supper.”

“What else is in there?” Steve asked, “You have a pretty full backpack.”

“Nothing more to eat, I’m sorry,” she said. “There are apples, but they are for something special.”

The ride only took 10 minutes, and soon they were in a rural area, pulling into a lane with a mailbox in the front that read “Jackson.”

Robert hopped out of the truck, checked the mailbox in case there were weekend flyers in it, and then opened the gate, closing it after the pickup went through. He hopped back into the cab and Steve drove them up to the house, letting Robert and Rachael off, and then drove towards the barn.

Inside the house Donna Jackson warmly greeted Rachael. “Welcome to our farm,” she said. “This little one if Lisa, but everyone else is out working. A farm doesn’t take weekends off.”

“No, and a dairy farmer can’t even have a half day off, can you,” Rachael said. “Cows have to be milked at least twice a day.”

“Oh, you know a bit about farming then,” Mrs. Jackson said. “We get up at 6 for first milking, and we actually milk three times a day. You will be able to see the 2 p.m. milking, although you will miss the late milking.”

“I have been on a farm before,” Rachael admitted (hundreds of times as Ron) “and Robert has been telling me a lot about the farm. I am really quite excited about the visit.”

“You come at an interesting time,” the woman continued. “One of our prize cows is due to calf and it may be today. When we set the date for your visit, we expected Queenie to deliver later this week, but Frank, my husband, feels she is going to be early, and it could happen today.”

“Queen Isadora del Guernsey et Hollerand” Robert said. “She is our top producing cow, and this will be her eighth calving. Her daughters are all top producers, and generate high levels of butterfat. They have made our herd one of the top ones in the county.”

“Wow. I hope I get a chance to meet Queenie,” Rachael said, handing Mrs. Jackson the cookies she had made.

“Oh, these smell wonderful. Thank you so much. So what do you have planned with your friend,” Mrs. Jackson asked her son.

“I was hoping we could go riding this morning,” Robert said. “Rachael can ride, and I thought that would be the best way to tour the farm. Unless you say I can use the truck.”

“No truck,” his mother said sternly. “You have only started driving, and I don’t want you doing it without your dad or one of your brothers with you. And certainly not with another youngster.”

“Yeah, I kind of thought that. We’ll just go to the barn and get a couple of the horses out of there.”

“You can ride Duchess,” little Lisa piped up. “The big horses are pretty scary sometimes. Duchess is my pony.”

“Why thank you,” Rachael said to the cute little girl. “You are so polite to offer. I will keep that in mind in case the big horses scare me.” The girl beamed at the compliment, and Mrs. Jackson smiled.

“Be careful in the corral,” she called out as Robert led Rachael out of the farmhouse. “The twins are trying to break Blackie this morning.”

The two walked out of the house and headed away from the road. The farm had several buildings and Robert pointed them out. A milk house, main barn, stable, and equipment shed were all identified. Near the stable was a corral and Rachael hopped up onto the split rail fence to watch Steve and his twin, who Robert identified as Peter, trying to rope a beautiful black stallion.

“We just got Blackie in last week,” Robert said. “He’s one, and never been ridden before. The twins are trying to break him.”

“Why would they do that,” Rachael said. “Do they want a broken horse?”

“Breaking a horse just means to be able to ride it,” Robert explained.

“Ow, the bastard bit me,” Peter said, although in more colorful language.

Rachael put down her backpack and reached in for two apples, popping one into each pocket of her jacket. Then she hopped up on the fence, and a second later was over it.

“Rachael, stop,” Robert shouted. “It’s not safe in there.” His two brothers also stopped, and watched open-mouthed as Rachael walked to about 20 feet from the snorting, steaming horse. Then she stopped, and started talking softly.

“Are they hurting you, sweetheart,” she cooed to the horse. “That isn’t the way to make friends, is it? Why don’t you come over here and we can be friends. Maybe we can show those mean boys a better way of getting a horse ready to ride.”

She continued in a like manner for another three or four minutes, while the three boys hollered and tried to get her to come back to the fence and safety. Suddenly the horse ran a few steps towards her, and then halted quickly. He clearly expected to scare her, but she stood her ground, continuing to speak softly.

The charge did throw the three watchers into a panic, and Robert climbed the fence and was about to go in to bring her out, but his bigger brothers held him back.

In the corral, Rachael reached into her pocket and pulled out an apple. She held it out, causing the horse to look at it. She then took a bite from the good side, opening the skin of the apple and letting its aroma out. The horse was now staring intently at her. It could smell the apple, and wondered if he could snatch it away. He moved closer, but the girl continued to hold the apple out towards it.

“Please little girl, come back,” Peter cried out. “He is vicious. He will bite.”

Rachael ignored him, and the horse did too. The boys were another 50 feet away, and out of range for him to worry. The girl was only five feet away, and she didn’t seem afraid of him. He bared his teeth.

“He’s gonna bite,” Steve shouted, and again had to hold Robert back.

“Now that’s no way for friends to act,” Rachael quietly chastised the horse, and it stopped baring his teeth. “This is for you. All you need to do is come a little closer and you can have it. No fingers, mind you, just apple. Can you do that?”

The horse came closer, one step, then another. Finally it reached out and snatched the apple away, and darted back a few feet. It munched the apple happily and tried to work out what had just happened. Ever since they had brought him here in that scary truck, people had just shouted and yelled, and put ropes around his neck and pulled and hurt him. Now this girl spoke softly and gave him treats. And now she was walking towards him. For a second the horse backed away, but then took two steps forward.

Finally Rachael was able to put her hand on the horse’s neck, and it immediately felt calmness flow through its body. The fear it had been feeling for days was gone, and he felt as free as when he had been a colt in the meadow.

Rachael felt her gift calming the horse. She reached into her other pocket, and pulled out another apple. She held it out in front of the horse. “You can have this if you let me sit on your back,” Rachael said. The horse knew exactly what she was saying when she was touching him. He shook his head no, but still stared at the apple. He looked at the girl. She was pretty small. Probably wouldn’t weigh much. And he liked her touching him. If she was on his back, she would be touching him more. He finally snapped the apple up.

Rachael walked to his side.

“Don’t go behind him, little girl,” Steve yelled out. “He could kill you if he kicks.”

“Don’t worry,” Rachael shouted back, no longer afraid of spooking the horse now that she was touching him. “I know what I am doing.” She then reached up to the stallion’s mane and grabbed hold, pulling herself onto the horses back.

She could feel the terror rising in the horse, and fed more energy in to calm him back down. Soon the horse took a step, then another, and soon was trotting around the corral. Blackie actually looked as though he was proud to have the girl sitting on his back.

Using her legs, Rachael directed the horse over to where the three boys were standing. He wouldn’t come any closer than 10 feet from where they stood. “You fellows may want to close your mouths, or is this some kind of rural fly catching method I’m not aware of?” she quipped. “If you two could let my boyfriend be, I’d like to introduce him to my new friend. Robert, get two more apples from my bag, and then come into the corral.” She turned the horse, and it trotted away, glad to put distance between them and his former tormentors.

Robert walked into the center of the corral, holding out an apple. Rachael slid off the horse and stood beside, keeping one hand on its neck. “This is my friend, Robert,” she told Blackie. “He is a friend too. And he brings treats too. Do you want another apple?”

The stallion reached out and snapped up the third apple. As he munched it, he allowed Robert to stroke his neck. The stallion noted that when the boy touched him, it was not as nice as the girl, but it was still pleasant. Much nicer than a rope.

Now was the big step. “Do you want to try riding him?” Rachael asked. Robert’s eyes went wide. He considered for a few seconds, then shook his head yes. “Then get out the other apple.”

Now she spoke to the horse. “Riding is fun, isn’t it? Would you let Robert ride you for a bit? He has another apple for you if you let him try. Will you do that?”

This time the horse didn’t hesitate at all. It shook its head yes, and snatched up the last apple. Then it stood still. Rachael bent a knee for Robert to stand on and he mounted the horse much more smoothly than she had. She managed to keep a hand on Blackie’s neck all through the process, and was able to damp down any fear or panic the horse felt in the new person on his back.

Then it was the big step. For a minute Rachael trotted alongside the horse and rider, keeping contact, but now it was time to see if they could ride without her using her power. She stopped, and Robert managed to steer the stallion around the corral almost as well as Rachael had. After two minutes, she could see panic building in the eyes of the horse, so she whistled. Blackie ignored the commands Robert was giving, and came straight back to Rachael, who quickly reached out a hand to calm the rising panic in the horse.

“You should go into the stable and get another horse,” she said. “I will ride Blackie today.”

“But we don’t have a saddle or reins for him,” Robert protested.

“I don’t seem to need them, do I,” Rachael said. “But you should saddle your horse. It will do Blackie good to see another horse with the full gear on. You realize that he is your horse now. He will never let your brothers ride him. You are going to have to use that same calming method to get him into a saddle and reins. Just bring lots of apples.”

Robert gave Rachael a knee to mount the horse, then trotted off to the barn to stable another horse. Rachael trotted the stallion around the corral, and again approached the older boys, although again Blackie would not come close to them, no matter how much calming she gave.

“How did you do that, girl?” Steve said.

“My name is Rachael, Steve. And you must be Peter. We haven’t met but I am a friend of Robert’s. We are going for a ride.”

“On that?” Peter said. “He’s never been ridden.”

“Of course he has, silly. I just rode him, and so did Robert. And I’m riding him right now.”

“I’ve never seen anyone break a horse like that,” Steve said. “How did you do it?”

“I didn’t break him,” Rachael said. “I made friends with him. When you break a horse, you get a slave. He will do what you want, but only out of fear. But if you make a horse your friend, he will do anything you want, out of friendship. Which kind of horse would you prefer?”

Robert appeared on top of a brown mare, trotting out to where Rachael and Blackie were standing near the boys. The brown nuzzled up to the bigger stallion, who seemed pleased to be able to show that he too, had a rider.

“Would one of you boys open the gate for us?” Rachael asked.

“You can’t take that stallion out without tack,” Steve said. “He’ll run away for sure. And probably leave you in a ditch somewhere along the way.”

“Wanna bet?” Rachael said, leading Blackie into a small circle, and then making him walk backwards, getting more open-mouthed stares from the twins.

“You’re a witch,” Peter said, but he opened the gate, and the two horses raced out of the corral.

“I’d like to take them for a run,” Rachael said. “Blackie has been cooped up for a long time, and wants to stretch his legs. Where can we run to?”

“This road goes to the back pasture area. The horses would prefer to ride off the road, but it is a good mile back there.”

“A mile isn’t much, but it will be a start,” Rachael said, and she let Blackie loose. The horse ran, glad to be free and wild again, and happy to have the girl on his back. Rachael saw a crossroad coming, and knew there would be ditches on either side. She told Blackie he would have to leap over them, and he did, shifting to keep her stable on his back. Finally they came up to a fence, which Rachael assumed was the end of the pasture, and made Blackie veer to the left. She looked back, and saw Robert on the brown, valiantly trying to catch up to the faster horse. She asked Blackie to slow down, and stop showing off for the mare. Soon a panting Robert caught up to them.

“That was amazing. You just took off like a rocket. And when you jumped the crossroad, I was sure Blackie would break a leg. But he took it like he was a trained jumper.”

“Well, maybe you can train him to be a jumper,” Rachael said.

“Do you think I could ride him bareback like you did? That looked so cool. You looked like you were having so much fun.”

“I was having fun. The most fun I’ve had in … a long time. But we should walk them for a while to cool them down. Blackie could go for a while, but your brown is almost spent.”

“This is Chocky,” Robert said. “Short for Chocolate. She is the horse I was going to have you ride today, because she is so gentle. I didn’t know you were a horse whisperer.”

Rachael decided to go with that story. Horse whisperer was a lot more believable than powers from heaven for most people. “What is that over there,” she pointed out a barn complex a quarter mile away.

“That is the Peters’ farm,” Robert said. “They are egg farmers. We get their old hens for chicken dinners. They are tougher than broilers, but cheaper. Mom knows how to cook them up right tasty.”

“I should check them out,” Rachael said. “Cheaper chickens would stretch my food budget. Let’s walk over there.”

A few minutes later they went through a gate to the other farm, and trotted in between the big barn and a few small ones. There was a young woman with a sling of feed that she was casting about the yard, which was full of chickens, mostly clustered around her.

“Hi Robert,” she said in a friendly manner. “Who is your friend and what happened to her saddle?”

“This is Rachael, from my school. She rides without a saddle too. Rachael, this is Keri Peters. Her dad runs this farm.”

“I didn’t know you had broken Blackie,” Keri said.

“She’s not broken,” Rachael said. “We became friends.”

“I’ve heard of that,” Keri said. “I like the idea. Our farm has recently gone to enhanced cages. We used battery cages for years until the new barn was built, and then we tried cage-free. But that seemed to cause too many problems with disease and cleanliness, so we brought in enhanced cages a few years ago. And of course these ladies are free-range. We sell their eggs for a premium.” She waved at the birds surrounding her.

Rachael was glad to hear that the barn held enhanced cages. As a veterinarian, Ron had seen many horrific battery-cage farms, where hens were crammed into tiny cages for their entire lives. Enhanced cages were larger, and usually had roosting spots so that the birds could have a more natural life span. Free range was ideal, of course, but few consumers were willing to pay a dollar to two extra for a dozen free-range eggs. The eggs were no better tasting, and few people were willing to pay extra just so the hens could have a better life.

“I’m interested in your chickens,” Rachael said. “Robert says you sell the old hens at a reasonable cost.”

“We do. About half the cost of a grocery store bird. But be warned, it can be hard to get used to the tougher bird. We have a lot of people who try them once or twice, and then go back to the store-bought.”

“Well, I’d like to try them. But I can’t get out to the farm easily. Do you bring them into town anywhere?”

“We make egg deliveries in town three days a week,” Keri said. “Where do you live?”

“Hmmm, right now we aren’t sure. We are going to be moving. But do you know the Bread Baron bakery?”

“No,” Keri perked up. “A new bakery? Where is it? I’ll have to get in and see if they will buy eggs from us. Our price is competitive to the big dealers, and the eggs are fresher, and in my opinion better. There are several restaurants in town that swear our eggs are better.”

“You need to talk to Geoff Barron, the owner. You will want to get to him early, he usually leaves about 2 p.m. Tell him Rachael sent you. My mom works for him.”

“If I can get him to buy our eggs, then I could deliver chickens whenever you want. We cull twice a month. Just phone and say how many you want,” Keri said.

“Do you want to see in the barn?” Keri said as she threw the last of her feed out of the sling.

“I would love to,” Rachael said, sliding off of Blackie.

“Rachael, you can’t leave him loose,” Robert said.

“Sure I can. You tie up Chocky, and I will tell Blackie to stay close to her. He will be fine.”

“If you are sure,” the boy said, dismounting. Rachael could see that he wasn’t convinced, but had seen such amazing things today that he couldn’t complain. Rachael put her hand on Blackie’s neck. “Now you stay close to your lady friend here, and I’ll be back out soon to give you a ride home. Okay?” The horse snorted and then moved over to stand next to Chocky, as though he was lashed to the same fence.

Keri just stared. “Definitely a horse whisperer,” she said. “Although I’ve never seen one so impressive.”

The tour of the barns took about an hour. Rachael was not just sightseeing, she was using her veterinarian eyes to evaluate the barn. It was clean and well equipped, with newer cages and healthy hens that appeared to be well fed. It was a small operation, probably 100,000 hens, in an industry where big operators counted their flocks in the millions.

“That is really impressive, Keri,” Rachael said. “It is clear that you people really care for your birds. I wish you all the success in the world with them.”

“Thank you Rachael. And thanks for the tip on the new bakery.”

“Rachael, where is Blackie,” a startled Robert said as they exited the barn. The stallion was no longer next to Chocky.

Rachael just whistled, and they heard a snort from around the free-range barn. Blackie trotted out and walked up to Rachael.

“I guess he got bored,” Rachael said as Robert kneeled to give her a leg up onto the tall horse. He then got into his mount.

“You look like an Amazon up there,” Keri said. “I hope to see you again Rachael. Bye Robert.”

The two got back to the barn just before noon, and spent several minutes rubbing down their horses. Robert noted that lunch on the farm usually happened at 1 p.m. leaving lots of time. Blackie had a stall of his own, and when Robert was finished with Chocky, Rachael had him come into it and give Blackie a little more attention. She knew that the horse knew and trusted Robert now, and would allow him to approach. Hopefully Robert could use the gentling technique to train the stallion to reins and a saddle.

They wandered through the complex, and Rachael was pleased to see that the milking barn was spotlessly clean, important in a dairy operation. She noticed one piece of equipment she had never seen before. “What’s that?”

“Oh, that’s the butter churn,” Robert said. “It is just a small unit that does 10 pounds of butter at a time. Queenie and her daughters produce milk so rich that we can skim off a bit of fat without missing the bonus. Mom makes butter once a week for her own baking. The butter is way better than store bought. And it is free, now that the churn is paid for.”

There was a loud moo that could be heard in the milking room. “That is the birthing room, Robert said. “We shouldn’t go in there.”

That didn’t stop Rachael, who stormed through the door, where she saw the twins and two older farmers clustered around a cow in distress. That must be Queenie, she thought, and she could instantly see that she was panicky and in pain.

“Hey, stop,” the older farmer said as Rachael squeezed past them and moved up to the cow. As soon as Rachael touched the animal she could see the problem. The calf was huge, and positioned incorrectly. And Queenie knew it, and was panicking.

Rachael first calmed the animal. Slowly, as she fed her energy into the animal, the cow became calmer. Then Rachael reduced her pain. Queenie realized that help was at hand, and stopped fighting against the wrongness she felt inside of her. She had given birth eight times since she was a heifer, and she knew that this time things were not right. But Rachael calmed the poor animal and made her feel that things would be all right.

Frank Jackson, the eldest man, and Robert’s father, was ready to throw the girl out for interfering in what looked to be a troubled birth for his prize cow. But when he saw how the cow quickly calmed down to her touch, and stopped, in amazement.

“She did it with Blackie too,” Steve said. “Calmed him down and rode him bareback.’

“What?” the farmer shouted. “Rode him where?”

“We went out back, and then over to the Peter’s place. We were out all morning,” Robert said.

“She rode Blackie, bareback, off the property?”

Rachael had calmed Queenie enough, and turned to the men and boys. “I need gloves, I assume you have them.” She looked around, and saw a sink close at hand. She turned on the hot water and got antiseptic soap and started to rinse up her arms, and use a brush to scrub her fingernails.”

Robert came up with a plastic glove. “This is the only size we have. They will probably be too big.”

“It will do,” Rachael said curtly. “She pulled a glove on one arm, and it went up past her shoulder. I could put my head into this, she thought to herself. Not that she needed to. She could see inside the cow without it. Once the sleeve was on, she used her free hand on the cow’s back, sending more calming. Queenie had started to panic again, but quickly relaxed when she felt that this ‘in-charge’ person was back.

“Okay honey,” Rachael cooed at the cow. “This might not feel very pleasant. With that she thrust her gloved hand into the cows uterus and reached deep inside. She could feel the calf inside. It was positioned incorrectly. It was going to be a breech birth, and with such a large calf that could be a problem. It might kill both the calf and the mother. Rachael tried to turn the calf, but her arms were too short, and she was too weak.

“I can’t do it,” she said. “The calf is breech, and the legs are wrong for a safe breech birth.”

“Should I call the vet?” Frank asked.

“Only if he does post mortems,” Rachael said. “He can’t get here in time unless he lives next door.” She pointed at the oldest of the boys. “You, what is your name?”

“Jacob. JJ,” he said.

“Glove up. I need longer arms and more strength,” Rachael said. “You look like what I need.” JJ started to pull on a glove and the girl snapped at him. “Scrub first.”

JJ went over to the sink and scrubbed as well as Rachael had, and then let Robert help him into a glove. He then stood next to the girl, towering over her. “I need something to stand on. I’m too short.”

Robert brought over a milk pail, which was inverted and Rachael climbed on top. She was now eye-to-eye with JJ. “Run your hand down my arm until you get to the hand,” she ordered.

“That is its hip,” she said, moving the man’s hand. “And the rear legs are here. Feel this? That is the umbilical cord, and it is wrapped around the legs here, and here. If we try to do a breech birth, the legs won’t come, and the calf will die. We’ll have to cut it out. And it might kill Queenie, or at least leave her unable to calve again.”

“What I need you to do is to push the cord up and get it free of the hooves. I can’t reach the hooves. Can you?”

“Yes I can,” a breathless JJ said. “Just. It’s like I can see right inside of him.” Rachael smiled a bit. She actually could see inside.

“Okay, can you work the cord up past them? Be gentle. If we tear that cord, it is game over.”

“No. Yes. No,” frustration sounded in his voice. Rachael could see that the cord was just too short to go around the hoof. She had an idea, and got Queenie to shift a bit, and suddenly the presentation of the calf changed. “I got it,” JJ said with glee.

“That is only half the job,” Rachael said. “I don’t want a breech birth if we can help it. I need you turn her around. Follow up the chest of the calf to the head. No, you are drifting up to the shoulder. Down a bit, yes, there.” It was easy when you could see inside. “Now I need you to go to the shoulder. Her head is twisted a bit, but if you pull the shoulder, it will twist her around a bit. This is going to take a long time.”

It did. Donna came out with sandwiches and some of Rachael’s cookies to feed the men in the birthing room. Her eyes went wide when she saw Rachael and her eldest son shoulder deep in the cow’s uterus. Those two didn’t eat at all, and nearly two hours later Rachael said it was over. While they had been working, the farmer has sent the twins to deal with the milking of the rest of the herd.

“She can do it on her own now,” she said as she pulled her arm free, and then peeled off the glove and put it into a disposal bin. A second later JJ did the same. She left one arm on Queenie’s back, and could feel contentment from the cow. Things now felt right, as they should, and the prize cow was confident that she could do what was needed.

“She is about 45 minutes away from the head cresting,” Rachael predicted, and then a half hour more to finish. “It is a big calf. So it is going to hurt her a lot, so I want to be here for her.”

“Robert. Run into the house and get something for your girlfriend and JJ to eat,” Frank Jackson ordered. “They missed lunch.”

JJ slumped on a stool, exhausted by what he had just gone through, but exhilarated at the same time. He had helped in many birthings in his time at the farm, but never one so difficult. He felt a glow of accomplishment.

Rachael, just as tired, was worried. How could she explain what had just happened? A girl of 13, leading an operation like that. She couldn’t think of anything that was believable. Finally the farmer asked the question.

“How did you do that … what is your name?”

“Rachael, sir.”

“How old are you?”

“Thirteen, sir. I’m in Robert’s class at school.”

“How did you know what to do? How could you do that? I’ve seen 50-year-old vets that couldn’t do what you just did.”

“Well sir, I have an affinity for animals,” Rachael said. “And I want to be a vet when I grow up. So I read a lot about animal husbandry and anatomy. I was reading about birthing problems last week. When I saw Queenie in distress, I just jumped in. I’m sorry, I should have asked first.”

“No problem,” the man said. “I’m just glad that you were here. Queenie is important to this farm. Without her … well, we would just be another farm. Now we are special.”

JJ and Rachael had just finished their sandwiches, and a cold glass of farm-fresh milk, when Queenie decided to finish up the job. She popped the head and forelegs perfectly, but got a bit bound up on the shoulders, and Frank and JJ had to pull to help. Rachael stood next to Queenie, feeding energy in to east the pain and keep the cow calm. Eventually the calf plopped to the ground, and Queenie let out a loud moo as it to say ‘never again’.

“Damn,” Frank said. “It’s a male.”

“Hamburger meat,” JJ said sadly. Most dairy farms consider a male calf as waste material, and don’t devote the resources to raise them.

“Not necessarily,” Rachael said. “Look at how big he is.”

“He is a big ‘un,” Frank said. “But no matter how big he gets, he’ll never give a drop of milk.”

“Tell me,” Rachael said. “Who was his sire?”

“A little tube that came by Fed-Ex,” JJ joked.

“AI. Makes sense,” Rachael said. “Was the sire a prize bull?”

“It should be for what I paid for that little tube,” Frank said.

“So he had a prize father, and a prize mother,” Rachael noted. “Don’t you think you need to see in a year or two if he might be a prize bull? I know your farm specializes in milk, but in a couple years he could be servicing all your cows, and improving the herd with Queenie’s genetics. And you could be selling those expensive little tubes yourself, to other farmers.”

Frank stared at the girl. “I would have done away with him in a week, once Queenie had gotten her milk in. But you are right. He could be a goldmine for the farm.” He turned to Robert. “You treat this girl right. She is something special. And your movie night next week? You take her. Treat her. I’ll make sure that one of the boys drives you in, and somebody picks you up.”

The family went in for dinner at about 6 p.m. and Rachael enjoyed a wonderful chicken dinner. The chicken was from the Peters’, and Rachael made Mrs. Jackson promise to teach her how to prepare it. It was as tender as store-bought. The woman agreed, only if Rachael would teach her how to make her cookies.

“Yours will probably be better than mine,” Rachael noted. “I understand you make your own butter.”

“Yes. I bake a lot and go through quite a bit. I use about four pounds a week, and sell another six pounds to ladies I know. They get better butter than any in the store for only $3 a pound. The only shortcoming is that it isn’t wrapped up into pretty little blocks like the store stuff. I just fill margarine containers that they return to me later.”

“You know, I might be able to sell more of that butter for you,” Rachael said. “My mom works in a bakery, and the baker said he buys 60 pounds a week. But it is the cheap stuff. If he got good butter from Queenie and her daughters, it might make his stuff taste even better. And he doesn’t want it in little packages either. You could just dump it into a clean old lard bucket or something. He uses butter by weight, not by the cup.”

“We could do 10 pounds a day, instead of 10 pounds a week. That would give your guy 60 a week, and net us … $180,” Frank let out a low whistle.

“Net me $180 a week,” Donna said. “I get the money from the butter. But now instead of $18 a week, it would be $198. We talked about me getting a job in town now that Lisa is getting older, but this would be even better. It only takes two or three hours to make butter, start to finish, with gaps in between. I’d be able to make butter, and still have time to do all I do here on the farm. If I wind up working in town, you folks will have to get used to eating packaged food.”

It was eight o’clock when Rachael packed up and got ready to leave. Robert took her to the barn, to say goodbye to both Queenie and her son, and to Blackie. She got back to the truck, where JJ was waiting to drive them back into town.

Just before getting into the truck, Rachael heard something. “Listen,” she said to Robert. “Do you hear that?”

“Mooing. Not ours, those are old man Barden’s. He’s got the next farm over. Not as big as ours.

“Are you kids coming?” JJ stuck his head out of the cab.

“Listen,” Rachael repeated. JJ, who had been in the truck before hadn’t heard it before.

“Cattle. Dairy. From Archie Barden’s place.”

“But they don’t sound right, do they?”

JJ’s eyes widened. “They are in distress. Those are cattle that haven’t been milked. Get in.” Thank goodness, Rachael thought. I’m glad you recognized it so I didn’t have to say it.

Instead of driving into town, JJ tore down the lane, around to the next farm, and into his lane. Rachael was the first to see it. “Look, over there.”

“It was another clump of clothes, eerily like the man she had met the day before. JJ stopped the truck next to him. “Archie,” JJ shouted, and there was a low moan.

JJ turned to Robert. “Take the truck home. Tell Dad Archie is hurt. Get all the boys to his barn.”

Robert drove carefully home, and JJ lifted the old man, as Rachael led the way into the nearby house. JJ left the man on the sofa. Rachael got him a glass of water. As the man slowly sipped the water, he recounted.

“Was going to the barn to do the afternoon milking. Must have tripped or something. Just came to as you folk were driving in. The cows!” his eyes went wide, and he tried to get up. “They need milking.”

“You stay here,” JJ said, with a strong hand holding the man down. “This is Rachael, a friend of ours. I’ll go tend to your cattle if you promise to stay put. Robert has gone to get Dad and the boys. We’ll do what it needed.”

“Okay,” he slumped back into his sofa, and JJ headed out the door, running to let the anxious cattle into the barn.

“I’m going to have to sell the farm,” the old man moaned. “I’m too old to look after it myself. Maybe Frank will buy the quota and the cows, and I can rent out the land. I don’t want to have to move into the city.”

“You may not have to,” Rachael said. “JJ is a good man, he could run your farm.”

“I can’t afford to pay for a man. Well, I could for a while, but JJ will want his own place someday, then I have to hire and train somebody new.”

“What if you don’t hire JJ,” Rachael said. “Make him a partner. He saved your farm today, and maybe your life. Give him a quarter interest in the farm and let him get a quarter of the profits. No salary, but every year give him another 5 percent of the farm. In five years or so he should be able to marry that girl he’s dating, or someone else. And in 10 years he will have 75% and you will have 25%. Then you can retire, or slow down and let him do most of the work. You’ll just be his relief milker.”

“You know girl, that is one good idea. I’m going to think on that for a while. And it will let me keep my farm. I really love being a farmer.”

“I can understand that,” Rachael said. Just then Lisa and Mrs. Jackson burst into the house.

“All the men are in the barn,” Donna said. “We came over to see what we need to do. Should I call the ambulance?”

“NO!” Mr. Barden shouted.

“I think he will be okay,” Rachael said, wishing she could see inside of people as well as she could animals. He tripped or slipped out in the yard, and hit his head on something. He has a pretty decent welt back there, but the skin didn’t break. As you can see, he is pretty coherent.”

“Can we get you something to eat?” Donna asked.

“No need,” the stubborn old man said.

“Well there is an entire crew out in your barn, milking your herd. They’ll be hungry when they get in. We need to fix something up for them.”

“Oh. Right. There is a ham in the fridge. Maybe you could slice it up and make some sandwiches.”

Donna went in and made Archie a sandwich, which he happily and hungrily munched on as he waited for the men. She didn’t mention that the men had recently had supper, and would not be expecting Mr. Barden to feed them. She did make two more sandwiches, and then wrapped them in plastic so that he would be able to have a quick meal later.

Shortly thereafter, Frank came in. “Cows are all milked,” he reported tersely. “You’re going to be a bit short, but none of them dried up. Probably a day or two before they’re back to full production. I’m going to send Robert over in the morning to make sure you are okay, and able to do the milking on your own.”

“Could you send JJ instead,” Archie asked. “I’d like to talk to him about something.”

Rachael smiled hearing that. Then Frank turned to her. “And you, young lady, were expected home two hours ago. We have to start the last milking at our place, so Donna will drive you home. Lisa, you go with, so your Mom will have company on the ride home.”

Rachael was on the phone, reporting in to her worried mother and promising that she would be home in a few minutes.

That night, Rachael reported in to a higher power.

Dear Lord

What a day. I helped a horse. I helped a cow. I think I helped a baby calf get a chance at a decent life. I may have found suppliers for eggs and butter for Geoff. I hope he doesn’t think I am butting in on his business. I helped an old man who might have died. I might have helped JJ get started in farming. And that will mean the twins will be able to inherit the family farm. Robert … I think he would make a good vet. Apparently I need someone stronger with longer arms to help me.

Lord, I thank you for this life. And thank you for making people at the farm not ask so many questions. I know you did something there.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

This is the last of the daily episodes. I have lots more for the story, but need a break for the weekend, at least. Look for something by Wednesday or so: Dawn.

SUNDAY, May 15, 2016

Rachael was exhausted, but still woke early. Today should be a simple day. Church in the morning, perhaps a visit to Mikki’s after lunch. Is Mr. Stoner back with the family, she wondered? Then it would be time to start on dinner for Grandpa. There wouldn’t be many more Sunday dinners in this old house. She looked around. She was going to miss her room, tiny as it was. Rachael had lived here all her life. Old Rachael. But even new Rachael had her memories, and sighed at the thought of leaving the familiar old place.

Church this morning. She hoped that Paul and John would be there, so Momma could talk to them about the apartment. Both Maria and Rachael had stopped worrying so much about getting a place once they had set their hearts and hopes on the store. She only hoped that they could afford it, and that it would be available. The Lord always comes through for me, she thought, and put the idea that they might not get the apartment out of her mind again.

She made breakfast. French Toast was becoming a Sunday tradition, and Bobby now knew to come down in his pajamas, so he didn’t get syrup on his Sunday clothes. Rachael didn’t care. His huge smiles as he ate the tasty breakfast made it all worthwhile. And while Bobby had declared French toast to be the ‘best breakfast ever’ when he first tasted it, it was far better now when made with Geoff’s bread, which never got a change to go stale in the Cartright household.

At church, they took a pew halfway up, and sat near the aisle. A few minutes later, John and Paul walked in, and seeing them, came up to join them. Maria leaned across Rachael and Bobby, and said “I would like to talk to you two for a minute after the service, if you don’t mind.” John nodded yes, while the more analytical Paul furrowed his brow, trying to guess what the young woman would want of them.

Just then Reverend McNaughton entered the church and went to the altar. He looked around, staring directly at Rachael and her group. She saw him push something aside on the podium, and then take another sheaf of papers from within his vestments, never smiling or showing any emotion.

After opening prayers and hymns, the children went down to Sunday school and the sermon started.

I”I have a special sermon, today,” the reverend said, staring straight at the little group. “It comes from Leviticus.” Rachael felt John tense up as the pastor said this.

“Leviticus 18:22 says ‘You shall not lie with a male as one lies with a female; it is an abomination’," the pastor said. “Then, in Leviticus 20:13 the Good Book says ‘If there is a man who lies with a male as those who lie with a woman, both of them have committed a detestable act; they shall surely be put to death. Their bloodguiltiness is upon them’.” Paul stood first, and pulled John to his feet, and the pair started to leave the church.

“Go forth, sinners,” the minister called at them as they left, as though he were mocking them.

Rachael leapt to her feet, shouting “NO!” in as loud a voice as she ever had used. “You cannot judge them. They are good men.”

“They are sinners,” the reverend said as the men continued to walk out of the church. “The Bible says so.”

“Leviticus also says that a man may not trim his beard,” Rachael shouted. “I see no beard on you. Does that make you a sinner? It also says that we may not uncover our heads, and I see that half the women here, and almost all the men are not wearing a hat. It says women on their period must be ‘put away’ for seven days during that time? It says it is a sin to eat fat. How many of us had bacon this morning? Are we all sinners? You cannot pick one law that suits your purposes and ignore all the rest.”

The minister was clearly getting angry. The sermon was his time to preach to his flock, not to debate with young girls. Especially ones who apparently had read the Bible, and knew what was in it. He shouted: “This is my church, and I am the one who decides who is a sinner and who is not.”

“It is NOT your church,” Rachael screamed at him. “It is the house of God. God made those two men. How could he make them sinners if he is all-knowing?”

“Silence,” roared the pastor. “Those men may have been made by God, but the Devil has led them into sin. They are SINNERS!”

“If you go into their shop, you will see a painting,” Rachael said, calming herself a little. “It is a painting by John, the shorter of the two. Anyone here who has seen it will know that it was painted by God, through John’s hands. There is no way that he, or his partner, are anything but God’s own children, favored by him with immense talents.”

“They are SINNERS,” the reverend repeated. He was turning red and was sweating profusely. “If I am wrong, may God strike me down on the spot. I say that … that …” With that the minister’s eyes rolled up into his head and he collapsed.

Rachael was already standing, and with John and Paul gone, was on the aisle. She only hesitated a moment and then took off running full speed up to the altar. She found the minister lying on the floor. She didn’t need to be able to see into his body to know that he was not breathing, nor was his heart beating.

Ron had taken First Aid courses while in university, and had even become a trainer for St. John’s Ambulance before his veterinary practice took off. Thus Rachael knew exactly what to do. She tore open the man’s clerical collar and straightened him out properly. She began chest compressions.

“Don’t you die on me,” she mumbled to herself as she began CPR. “Don’t. You. Die.”

Soon she was chanting the words as she made compressions, trying to keep blood flowing to his brain. She glanced up, and saw her mother and others in the congregation ringing her. “Has someone called 9-1-1?” Dozens of people looked shocked, and then reached for their phones. “The ambulance is on the way,” it was the deacon, who normally took the offering in. Rachael didn’t stop the CPR, and started her chant again, first as a mumble, then louder and louder.

Maria stood by, watching her daughter work on the man, who looked dead to her. When he had fallen, she had heard whispers of both ‘witch’ and ‘angel’ from people around her. Now more and more were saying ‘angel’ as they watched Rachael working so hard to save him. Maria listened to Rachael’s chant, and she repeated it. Others around her picked up on it and soon all 120 people in the church, even those who had remained in the pews, were chanting “Don’t. You. Die,” as Rachael made her compressions.

Finally, the sound of an ambulance could be heard, getting louder and louder as it neared. The siren stopped, and a minute later two EMTs burst into the church and were waved to the front, where they opened their kits and started removing gear. One studied Rachael for a few seconds and said: “Keep it up dear, you are doing it perfectly. In a second we will shock him, so when I say clear, I want you to stop and back away.”

The other technician had paddles out, and was smearing a liquid on them, while the one who had spoken used a pair of scissors to slice open the ministers garments exposing his chest.

“Okay, clear,” the first technician shouted, and he saw Rachel fall away backwards, “Now.” There was a buzzing sound.

“Nothing. Try again. Clear. Now.” The buzzing sound repeated. “I have a pulse,” the second technician said. “It is weak, but a pulse. Prep him to go. Call the hospital.” The EMTs did their work, and minutes later the reverend was on a gurney, with one of the technicians wheeling him out to the ambulance. The other waited a second, packing up. “Are you okay sweetheart,” he said to Rachael. “Do we need to take you in too?”

“No, I’m fine,” Rachael said weakly, with arms burning in pain from the CPR. “Just tired. Oh so very tired.”

“Okay love,” the man said. “You may have saved a man’s life today. He isn’t in the clear yet, but you have given him a chance. If he hadn’t been getting blood to his brain while we were on the way … well, it wouldn’t have been good.” With that he ran after his partner to help get their patient into the ambulance and off to the hospital.”

Rachael slowly got to her knees. Her arms were totally spent. Maria came forward and helped her to her feet. Rachael looked around, and saw all the people standing around her. “Please, everyone take your seats.” Slowly they did so, until only Rachael and Maria were standing at the altar.

“We aren’t done yet,” Rachael spoke up to the hushed crowd. “The EMT says he is not out of danger yet. We need to pray for him. I know this church is not big on kneeling, but I would like those who can to get on your knees and plead with the Lord not to take our pastor away. It is not his time yet.” Rachael dropped to her knees and prayed for several long minutes, with her mother beside her. She could hear a murmur as the rest of the congregation was also making silent pleas for their pastor.

Maria again had to help Rachael regain her feet. “I hope that helped. Oh, I see the little ones returning from Sunday School. Bobby, come up here.” He joined his family at the front, looking confused.

“I think we should close with a song. This is a favorite of mine.” Rachael started singing Amazing Grace in her clear, high soprano voice. A moment later her mother joined in, harmonizing perfectly with her daughter. A few people sang a syllable or two, but most just stopped and listened to the beautiful song, being sung beautifully by the two women. Those who started singing quickly stopped, so it was only the clear, untrained voices of the two which moved several of the women in the crowd to tears, and made many of the men daub their eyes. It had been a stressful, scary event for everyone and the song provided the perfect relief for the congregation.

When the church had been built over 100 years ago, the architect had placed a small window on the roof. Over the years the window had been covered up, but a windstorm three weeks earlier had torn the covering off the old window, and the driving rain had pummeled the old glass clean. The deacon had inspected the damage later, and decided that it was not leaking any worse than other bad spots on the roof, which was overdue for replacement. So the window was left open.

And today, as the last few words of Amazing Grace were ringing through the church, the sun broke out, and the window served its purpose for the first time in 50 years. The clouds parted and a small, single ray of light shined down, and struck Rachael’s head, creating a halo effect around her. There was a gasp from the congregation as they saw the halo.

Rachael had no idea what was happening, other than that she was being blinded by the light. No doubt that was the reason why some minister in the past had ordered the window closed off.

“I see that the deacon is at the door with the collection plates. It has been an unusual service, but I suppose we can contribute our share as we leave.”

People started getting up and going to the door. Without a minister there for the traditional greeting time, it seemed odd, but people just went to their cars, and drove away.

Rachael, Maria, and Bobby, who had been at the front were the last to leave. Rachael stared in amazement at the collection plate, which was covered in $20 bills. There was even a few fifties and a hundred in there. The deacon saw her noticing the take, and said: “It was a very good collection. Better than three or four normal weeks, I suspect.

“I feel bad that we only have our loonies and toonies,” Rachael said as she tossed her two dollar coin into the plate. Maria did the same, and Bobby added his dollar loonie.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” the deacon said. “You did a wonderful thing for all of us up there. I got a call from the hospital. The choir leader rode with him in, and she says that he is in ICU but they expect him to pull through. He won’t be back to work for a while. I guess I’ll have to find a seminary student, or a recent graduate to cover for him for a few months.”

With that, Bobby, Maria and Rachael headed for home.

“Drat,” Maria said when they were halfway there. I didn’t get a chance to talk to John and Paul. And I don’t expect they will be coming back to this church, will they.”

“Mom,” Rachael said. “They have a shop less than 20 feet from where you work. I’m sure Geoff will give you a few minutes to drop over and talk with them the next day they are in.”

* * *

That girl is so infuriating, Thomas McNaughton thought. She is stressing me out. But then she disappeared, which was a good thing. But the church and the congregation also disappeared, which was a bad thing. The reverend found himself in front a gorgeous white structure. It looked like a medieval castle, except one that was built with walls of gleaming marble instead of stone. There was a section near him that was a fence, with a gate. At first it looked like bronze, but then he realized that it was solid gold.

Then he saw her. It was his wife, who had died 15 years earlier of cancer. But this was not the old and worn woman who he had seen waste away. This was the young woman that had captured his heart in seminary school, and then gave up her own dreams to become the wife of a minister.

“Lana,” he said reaching his hand out to touch her. He was an agonizing few inches short of making contact, and she wouldn’t move closer.

“Tom,” she replied. “It isn’t your time yet. You have things to do, and things to atone for before we can touch again. Please do what is needed. I do so want to be with you again.”

Rev. McNaughton had tears in his eyes as his wife faded away. Another angel appeared, a portly man not much taller than Lana was.

“Call me John,” he said.

“You are an angel,” the minister said in amazement.

“Yes, we all do the work of the Lord in our own ways,” he said. “I believe you have met one of our flock recently. A young girl. Name of Rachael.”

Thomas reddened in anger. “Little guttersnipe. Thought she could tell me off, in my own church.”

“Is it your church?” John asked. “I think that the church belongs to the Lord, or to the people. It is when other people think they control it that bad things happen. Is it your church?”

“No sir,” Thomas said sorrowfully. “The girl is right. But I couldn’t just stand by and allow sinners in the building. It would make it a mockery of all we stand for.”

“Rachael stands for love,” St. John said. “She is right when she says that God created those men, and others like them. They are creations of our Lord, and you shun them. You know, it wasn’t long before your time when many people considered people of other races to be subhuman. Millions were enslaved on this continent. When you were young, did you feel that way?”

“No sir,” Thomas protested. “I joined in. A group from the seminary went to Cleveland to march with the blacks. We were spat on, and vilified by the white supremacists. But we stood firm with them, and made friends that still stand by us.”

“Do you know that you are the supremacists in this case? You spit on them, and vilify them as those others once did to the blacks you stood by. You need to accept them and love them as you love your other congregants.”

“But they are SINNERS! They …”

“They are the children of God. Do you presume to tell God what is right or wrong?”

“Dear Lord, no,” Thomas dropped to his knees. “Then … the girl was right?”

“She was. It would be good for you to get to know her, and let her lead you. From the mouths of small children come pearls of great wisdom. She is calling you even now.”

“What? I hear nothing except that drumming. Dum, dum, dum.”

“Listen closely. She speaks to you.”

He listened, and the drums intensified. And then, slowly they turned into words. “Don’t. You. Die. Don’t. You. Die.” Soon the sound was overpowering. Thomas looked through the gates, and saw Lana, with a host of angels surrounding her, all chanting “Don’t. You. Die.”

Then he heard the words “Okay, clear. Now.” There was a massive pain in his chest.

“Nothing. Try again. Clear. Now.” The pain again. “I have a pulse.”

* * *

Maria sat in the kitchen as Rachael fussed about. After the drama of the morning she no longer wanted to visit the Stoner house. Mr. Stoner would be back, and she didn’t know if he would welcome a visit from her. Maybe tomorrow, or the next evening after school. He should be back in Toronto then.

A few minutes after their quick lunch, Marc and another boy, Jerry, who had once gone by Jerome, Were at the door, asking Bobby to come to the park to play catch. He ran to get his ball and glove, and was out the door as soon as Maria said he could go.

“I think I’ll make a cake,” Rachael told her mother when the boys were gone. “I need to stay busy to keep my mind off of things.”

“I’m sorry dear, I don’t think there is a cake mix in the cupboard, unless you bought one and squirrelled it away somewhere.”

“Mix. Mix? We don’t need no stinkin’ mix,” Rachael said parodying some movie, causing Maria to giggle. She went to the pantry and took out a small bag of cake flour she had bought. She placed it on the counter along with baking powder, baking soda, eggs from the fridge, cocoa powder, butter, sugar and a few spices. “This is my cake mix.”

“You are going to make a cake from scratch?” Maria said wide-eyed.

“Yes, we learned how in school in December,” Rachael said. Her old Rachael memories went back to that time. A young home ec. teacher had finished the course a week ahead, and decided to teach the class how to make a scratch cake, something not normally taught until high school. It was a disaster. Not a single cake came out right, and only one of the 12 that were made by the partners in the class was even edible. Rachael’s was one of the ones that was both as hard as a rock, and burnt, black on the bottom. Luckily Ron had better luck baking from scratch, and it was his chocolate supreme cake that Rachael planned to make.

“Can I help?” Maria said.

“You can keep me company. There will be less mess with only one cook. Or baker, in this case. What are you planning to do tomorrow? I assume that is your day off.”

“Well, actually there was a big argument about that on Saturday. Geoff said I should take the day off. Monday’s are the slowest days, and he said his mother could handle the full day. He is wrong. The poor dear is worn out, and would be exhausted working a full nine hours. So I said I will go in. Geoff said if I did he would fire me. I said he couldn’t, because he needs me too much. I told him I would be in at eight, and he didn’t need to pay me, but I would be there. He said he was going to change the locks on the door, so I couldn’t get in. I said it didn’t matter. I would stand outside the door, and wait until his Mom opened the door, and then sneak in with her.”

Rachael giggled visualizing the friendly banter between the two. “So Geoff hasn’t learned to never argue with a woman.”

“I guess not. He gets uppity some times. It’s like he thinks he owns the place,” Maria giggled.

Rachael laughed as she started mixing her ingredients. Then a thought hit her. “Mom, you like Geoff. I mean like like.”

“What? No. Don’t be silly. I like him. He is a lot of fun and so nice. And I know I will have more fun working Monday than rolling around here at home. And you know, when he is lifting those huge sacks of flour and you can see his muscles ripple though his t-shirt, and … oh my God, I do like like him.”

“Thought so. What are you going to do about it?” Rachael asked.

“Do about it? Nothing. I work for him. I don’t want to become another Callie.”

“Mom, you will never be another Callie, and Geoff will never be another Joe. I think the two of you would be cute. You should date him. And just to let you know, if it turns into something, I would love Geoff as a dad. He will be the best one I ever had.”

“Yeah, that isn’t a hard bar to pass,” Maria said, thinking of the man who left her pregnant with a three-year-old daughter. “But don’t get your hopes up. He hardly even looks at me.”

“You are wrong there,” Rachael said. “I’ve seen him look at you from the back rooms. He always smiles. I thought it was because he was glad to have such a hard worker at the counter. Now I realize he is glad because he has such a hottie at the counter.”

“Rachael! I am not a hottie,” Maria protested.

“Hah. You are the hottest hottie in this whole town. You just don’t know it. You need to get a date with Geoff.”

“Yeah, like that is going to happen. When exactly could he take me on a date? He works six days a week, and he’s probably in the bakery right now, cleaning or doing maintenance or something. Let’s talk about something else. How was your day yesterday?”

Rachael gave an abbreviated recap of her day at the farm. Her mother just heard that they went riding, not that she had tamed a wild horse and rode him bareback. She mentioned the egg farm, and the possibility of getting cheap chickens. She also mentioned about the birth of the new bull calf, although without going into the details about the part she had played in that drama.

She did give the full story about Mr. Barden, the next-door neighbor, because that was what had caused her to be late coming home.

“I was wondering about that,” Maria said. “When you didn’t come home on time, and didn’t call, I started to worry.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Rachael apologized. “But everything was happening so fast I didn’t think about the time.”

“Well, you are forgiven. I can’t complain if you were saving a man’s life. That is two in two days for you now, isn’t it? Is Mr. Barden okay?”

“Mr. Jackson was going to send one of his boys over this morning to check. I’m sure that if he isn’t up to it, the Jackson boys will do his milking for free. They are really good people, Momma.”

“And so are you, honey,” Maria said, hugging her daughter as she put her cake tins in the oven. “From what I saw of your young friend yesterday morning, he seems like a fine, polite boy. And it sounds like he comes from an honest, hard-working family.”

The two women continued to chat. Once the cake was out of the oven Rachael made a vanilla buttercream icing for it. She told Maria it was a joke on Bobby, so that he wouldn’t know it was a chocolate cake until she cut into it.

“It’s a good thing he isn’t here now,” Maria noted. “The smells from that cake are just so delicious. I’m putting on weight just sniffing the air.”

“Hah. Like you could ever put on weight,” Rachael said. “But it is a very rich cake. I shouldn’t have a piece tonight.”

“Honey, you should. You have been losing weight all month. I bet more than 10 pounds so far. You are looking so much better. And Bobby is too. And with him running around with those other two boys he will continue to trim down. I think you can ease up on his diet a bit.”

“I have. He’s gotten treats from the bakery a couple times this last week, as well as his apple. I just love him so much. He never complains when I say he can’t have something. He is such a good kid.”

“And you are so good with him,” Maria said. “You know that all you’re doing with him is going to stand you in good stead when you become a mother yourself.”

A mother? That floored Rachael for a moment. A month ago she was an elderly man. Now she was thinking about being a mother. A vision of Queenie from yesterday came into her mind, and she suddenly saw her face instead of the cow’s, with hands invading her personal spaces. She shuddered.

“What honey?” Maria asked when she saw Rachael’s reaction.

“I was just thinking about the cow that gave birth yesterday. It looked like it hurt a lot. Does it?”

“Well, to be honest, it does hurt. But it is not an unbearable pain. It was better with you, because I wasn’t so alone, like I was with Bobby. But I can tell you: the rewards come from having a new little body lying on your belly, and then starting to nurse it. It is incredibly beautiful. I’m sure when your time comes, you will enjoy it.” Her voice then turned Mommish. “But not for another 10 years at least. You will finish high school, and college. Understand!”

“Yes Momma, I will. I want to be a veterinarian when I grow up, and that takes a lot of years of college. You might have Bobby give you a grandchild before I do.”

“Good,” Maria said. “Although I don’t want him messing around too young either. I will enjoy a grandchild when I am well into my 40s, not sooner.”

“I think Bobby will be a good man,” Rachael said. “Look at the way he is with Danni. She adores him, and you would think he would ignore her. At that age, boys aren’t friends with girls, and especially not ones so much younger. But let anyone hurt her, or threaten her, and he lays right into them. He will be a good man.”

“So what is for supper tonight, cook-daughter of mine. Surely more than cake?”

“I got a good deal on a roast at the grocery store. I know that Grandpa loves his beef. And the leftovers make the best sandwiches. Bobby prefers bologna, but I like a change once in a while. And now you have to take a lunch to the bakery too.”

“I got an assortment of root vegetables too, so we can have onion, carrots, turnips and rutabagas in the pot. I want to bake potatoes instead of roasting them, because Bobby loves them so.”

“So you are making a dinner to please both of the men in your life,” Maria noted.

“Yes, I guess I am,” Rachael said. But inside she started to think about Robert. Wasn’t he a man in her life too? She dec ided to save at least one slice of cake for him and take it to school tomorrow, to thank him for the visit to the farm.

The boys came home at about five, and by that time the smell of the cake was masked by the smells of the supper. The iced cake was hidden on top of the fridge, and Bobby didn’t even know it was there.

“He did ask for cookies, but settled for carrot sticks. He also insisted on making his famous salad for dinner.

Grandpa came at the usual time, and Rachael had a pair of cookies to give to his driver, a younger man, about 45.

The little family sat around the table, and Rachael led the prayer, specifically asking that Rev. McNaughton would be okay. “Is there someone you would like to remember, Grandpa?” she asked.

“Yes there is,” he said. “Corporal George Stiller. George, Jerome Kingsmill and I were all boys from here in Ingersoll. I talked the other two into signing up for the Vingt Deux, who normally work out of Quebec, to honor my uncle, who died in the first war. That was before my family moved west to Ontario. Anyway, the three of us went to Hull, Quebec and enrolled there. The training was in English, so the other boys got by okay, but they sure learned how to swear in French, since the rest of us were Frenchies.”

“Anyway, we went through training together, but George missed out on the Dieppe raid, lucky dog, he was sick and in the hospital. Jerome and I survived that. Not many did. So when D-day rolled around, we weren’t called for on the first day. But a week after we finally landed we got into that mess I told you about, where they gave me the medal. The three of us were in the same foxhole, and George popped his head up to see what we should do, and he bought it. A sniper got him in the forehead, right through his helmet.”

“I saw red, and beat it out of the foxhole and up to the position above. I just wanted to kill all the men who had killed my friend. Jerome stayed with George, but I knew it was over for him. It was the first action he had been in, and the last. I told his name, and where the action was, to Bobby’s friend Marc and he promised to send it to one of his old teachers back in France. I want a picture of George’s resting place.”

“That’s all I want to say about that,” he turned to Bobby. “I know you will have questions. You always do. But I don’t want to talk any more about it tonight. Can you leave your questions for another night? I will answer them then, if I can.” Bobby nodded in agreement, although Rachael could see he was just bursting with questions after such a detailed battle description. She quickly plated the meal.

“Tater skins, tater skins,” Bobby shouted as soon as he saw the baked potatoes. The rest of them waiting somewhat more patiently as Rachael filled their plates with the items they requested. Grandpa actually asked for small helpings of each of the vegetables, as well as his meat and potatoes.

“I liked everything except the rooter-baggers,” Bobby declared.

“Yes, but you tried them, and that is the important thing,” Rachael said.

“That is another excellent meal,” Grandpa said. “You are a wonderful cook, Rachael. I so look forward to these outings. It gives me something to look towards every week.”

“Well, I’m not sure how many more of them there will be, Grandpa,” Maria said. “We are going to have to move out of this little house soon. I don’t know where we will go, but there is a good chance there will be stairs.”

She was interrupted by Bobby shouting ‘Cake, cake’ as Rachael brought out the dessert. She sliced it up, and as predicted Bobby was thrilled to see that the white icing hid chocolate cake, his favorite.

All four of them were eating their dessert and the discussion turned back to the apartment. “Where will you go?” Grandpa asked.

“Well, we can’t afford a house,” Maria said. She noted that they were getting a much reduced rent from their prior landlord. “We are hoping to get the little apartment above the Art Gallery near my work.”

“No!” Grandpa said decisively. “You are moving into my little house. There is room. No one has been in the upstairs for years, but there are three bedrooms and a bathroom up there. Room for everyone. And a nice kitchen downstairs where Rachael can work her magic.”

“That is so generous,” Maria said. “But we couldn’t possibly impose on you.”

“Impose. Impose? Do you know that my doctor put me on a waiting list for an old folks home last month. They say I am too old to be living alone. If I have my family living with me, they can’t take me out of my own house. Old folks home,” he snorted. “People go to those to die. I have no plans on dying now. Not when I have finally found my family.”

Rachael was amazed. How had she failed to think of moving in with Grandpa? They had fixated on the apartment over the gallery, and hadn’t kept thinking of alternatives. She had been in the upstairs. She had gone up to check things when she had cleaned the downstairs with Mikki a few weeks back. There were three bedrooms, all larger than the ones in this house. The bathroom had a shower as well as a tub. There were ample closets in each bedroom, and two of the three rooms had beds that were made up. There was a lot of dust on everything, but Rachael had put cleaning up there on a todo-later list, and never went back to it.

Maria was not done yet, though. “We will pay you $500 a month, then,” she said.

“NO!” Rachael had never heard the old man speak so harshly. “Don’t you understand woman. We are family. Family don’t pay rent to live together. You will pay nothing. If the gas or water bills go up, then you can chip in the difference, if it is more than a few dollars. But you will not pay rent.”

Maria was taken aback by the force of the old man’s convictions.

“We can help with groceries,” Rachael suggested.

“You are doing that already,” Grandpa said. “But yes, if you are cooking for me, and cleaning house for me, and providing me with so much love, I will let you pay for the groceries.”

“You are too kind,” Maria said, tears in her eyes. Not having to pay rent was going to change her life. She would have money to spend on her kids. To buy them the things they had been deprived of for so many years. So it was that Maria was still sobbing quiet tears of joy when Rachael and Grandpa left.

At his house, Rachael helped him get ready for bed, and then took a quick run upstairs, with his permission, to refresh her memories of the place. It was perfect. A smaller room for Bobby, a slightly larger one for her, and a master bedroom for her mother.

Not wanting to linger, Rachael tore down the stairs and went out to the Legion man, who was gladly munching on the second of the cookies she had given him when he came to pick them up. “These are really good,” he said.

“Thanks, they are homemade, but if you want really good stuff, check out the Bread Baron Bakery down the street.”

“I have seen that place, but never dropped in. Is it that good?”

“Better than that. We buy all our bread there, and the Danish are to die for. You are pretty slim (a lie, like most 60 year olds, he had a pot belly) so I don’t think you would need to worry about calories. But it tastes heavenly.”

Back at the house, Maria had sent Bobby up to his bath. Two days of running wild with his friends meant he needed to clean up before school tomorrow. When Rachael got into the door, Maria grabbed her around the waist and hugged her tightly.

“It is so perfect. Why didn’t we think of that before? It lets Grandpa live at home longer, and I’m sure with us looking after him it can only help him. And the money we will save! I will no longer have to scrimp. Bobby can get pizzas at school. And you can buy some new clothes that no one else has ever worn.”

“And you too, Momma,” Rachael said. “You need new things too.”

“All of us. And we should even buy some new clothes for Grandpa. Some of his outfits look like they are 25 years old.”

“We will have to be careful with him,” Rachael warned. “He is a proud man, and probably won’t take well to the idea that we need to take him shopping. But we can buy him gifts, can’t we? A new sweater, or a shirt. If it is a gift from us, he will have to accept it.”

“And it means I will be closer to work. It’s only a few blocks, but it will make the walk in and home five minutes quicker. And quicker for you kids to walk home from school. You could even walk in to school if you wanted.”

“I don’t think we will,” Rachael said. “At least not this term. There are only a few more weeks of school this year. Mikki likes me to ride in with her, as well as walking home. Larissa, Marc and Mikki will have a longer walk after letting us off though. I hope they still come and visit Grandpa. He so loves to speak French with Larissa and Mark.”

“Things are better all around,” Maria pronounced. “I think that tonight I need to thank your Lord. He really came through for us on this.”

“He is your Lord too Momma. But do thank him. And pray for Rev. McNaughton.

Dear Lord, Rachael later said.

Thank you for solving our housing crisis, and in such a wonderful way. It helps Grandpa, and helps us tons. Please let Rev. McNaughton live. He is so loved by his congregation. I did not mean to cause him to have the heart attack. I just got so worked up by what he was saying. But even though he thinks like that he deserves to live. I’m so sorry for messing up.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

So I promised no new story till Wednesday. I lied. Sometimes a writer’s got to write (and there will be another one tomorrow): Dawn.

MONDAY, May 16, 2016

The minute Mikki got on the bus, Rachael gave her the good news: “We’ve got a new house.”

“What? Where? I thought you were getting an apartment.”

“Grandpa’s house. He wants us to move in with him,” the excited girl said. “They were going to make him move to a seniors’ home, because there is no one to look after him. But we will be there, and that means he can stay.”

“It is a bigger house than you have now, and only a few blocks further away from mine. We can still be friends.”

“Mikki, you know better than that. We are BFFs. No matter where I move, you will always be my friend.”

“Thanks Rach. That means so much to me. I have lots of friends now, but for a while you were … “ Mikki stopped talking, and stared at the front of the bus.

It was Carly’s stop, and she and Becca were getting on. No sign of Layla today. But it wasn’t the same Carly. Her long hair was cut in a short bob cut, with long bangs that she swept to the left. The bob was uneven, with the front longer than the back, making long points that curled slightly under her chin. It was gorgeous, and fitted her face perfectly.

“I love it,” Rachael said. “I told you before that you looked like a movie star, now you do for sure. Where did you get it done?”

“At Xcuts,” Carly said. “She was setting up on Sunday so I popped in to make an appointment for after she opened, and she said she could do me right then. I’m the first person ever for that salon. Do you really love it?”

“I do. And everyone in the school is going to be so jealous. What does Leon think about it?”

“He hasn’t seen it yet. He liked my hair long. I hope he will like this,” Carly said hesitantly.

“He better,” Rachael said. “’Cause looking like that you can have your pick of all the boys in the school.”

“Yeah, but Leon is the one I pick,” Carly said.

“He will love it,” Mikki said. “How could he not? It looks so glamorous. I have to get my name in for a cut there. How about you, Rach?”

“This hair?” Rachael ran her fingers through her short mop. “I’d like to go back to blonde again, instead of this two-tone Pepe LePew style that is growing in. But there isn’t really enough there to cut. Stupid EMO girl with scissors made sure of that. I certainly couldn’t get any kind of glamorous style like Carly has, or that you could get,” she told Mikki.

Becca also said she wanted to get a cut at the new place, and planned to go in after school. “You can walk with us, that far,” Rachael said. “We go right past there on the way home. How will you get to your house after, though?”

“I can take the city buses,” Becca said. “It is a little long, but will be worth it. I’ll try to get an appointment right after school, if she isn’t busy. Maybe she can do me on the spot, like she did with Carly.”

“I doubt that,” Rachael said. “I bet after everyone sees Carly, more than half the girls in the school will want to get an appointment.”

At school, Carly was the center of attention, to her complete and utter delight. Rachael saw Leon standing just inside the doors and went up to him.

“Just a heads up, Leon,” Rachael told the boy. “Carly got a haircut. You love it. Got it?”

“She cut her hair,” the boy moaned. “I loved her long hair. Why did she do that?”

“Girls do that,” she said. “Get used to it. And if you moan and complain about it, she will be heartbroken. Do you want that?”

“No, of course not.”

“So you love it. If you don’t, say you do anyway. Tell her she looks beautiful, older, more sophisticated, like a movie star. Got it?”

“Yeah, I’ve got it. Thanks for the warning, Rachael. You are the best.”

Morning classes were normal, with French first, and PE following, where Rachael and Larissa’s team of former misfits again won their game against the former best team in the class. The others were ahead at the halfway point, and started trash-talking about how much better they were. But again they were playing only their top six players, leaving four others on the bench. As a result, they tired in the second half and our girls pulled ahead at the end.

At lunch Rachael went around the cafeteria, stopping to see all the kids from the Movie Night. All paid their $2 to go again on Thursday, except for Neal, the artist, who no longer had a date. Rachael’s main goal was to get votes on the movie to be shown. Both Sound of Music, and The Longest Day were options. In the end the boys won out in choosing the war movie. Rachael didn’t mind, and in fact she had voted for it too. And she told the girls that next week the options would be Sound of Music, or West Side Story, so either way they would get a musical love story.

She also had to warn everybody that the movie night would start at 6:45 p.m. Thursday, because the movie was nearly three hours long. There would be no chance for cartoons to preliminaries if they wanted to be cleaned up and out by 10.

After doing her poll, Rachael went to her locker and came back with a Tupperware container, which she dropped in front of Robert, along with a fork. “This is for treating me to such a great time at the farm on Saturday.”

“Thanking you? You practically saved the farm by helping Queenie give birth,” Robert insisted as he opened the container. “You make me cake?”

“Well, it was for the whole family,” Rachael said.

“Aww, she thinks of Robert as part of her family,” Larissa teased.

“Forget that,” Mikki said. “I want to hear about this Queenie person.”

“Queenie is a cow, the queen of our herd. And Rachael was up to her shoulder in helping her along. This cake is really good,” Robert said.

“What do you mean, up to her shoulder?” Mikki persisted.

“Well, Queenie was having trouble. The calf was big, and was in the wrong position, so Rachael and my older brother went in and turned it around,” Robert said, licking the last of the icing off the fork.

“What do you mean went in?” Carly asked.

Mikki got it first. “You mean you had your arm … inside of the cow?”

The others clicked into it, and there was a chorus of Eeewww around the table.

“She needed help,” Rachael said simply. “I just helped. It was JJ who did most of the work.”

“Don’t listen to her, girls,” Robert said. “Rachael is a born farmer. She tamed a wild horse earlier and then rode it bareback. She was going so fast I couldn’t keep up on another horse. With a saddle.”

“Come on guys,” Rachael protested, turning quite red. “It wasn’t that special.”

Right after lunch came History, and it was the first class devoted to the projects. Larissa, Rachael, Carly and Mikki all pulled their desks together and started discussing.

“I have an idea,” Rachael said. “I think Mr. Churchill will go for it. My new Grandpa fought in the war, and got a medal after D-Day. He has some wonderful stories about the war, and I would love to get them recorded. I asked him last night if he would do it, and at first he didn’t want to. But when I said it was to honor the men who didn’t come back, he said he would do it.”

“That sounds better than my idea,” Carly said. “I was thinking about the downtown, and how it changed over the years. Get pictures of Main Street in the past, and comparing it to now.”

“That’s a really good idea too,” Rachael said. “Does anyone else have one?” Neither of the others did. The girls voted, and it was 4-0 for Rachael’s plan.

“We should tell the other idea to Mr. Churchill,” Rachael said. “He might have another group that needs a good idea. Would you mind if someone else used your idea? They would have to put your name in their credits.”

“No, I guess that is all right. I like your idea better, so why worry if someone uses my idea.”

“Excellent. Now listen to this. Grandpa and two other guys from here were together from the war. One is the guy who runs Kings Taxi. Well, the father of the guy who runs it now. The other one died over there, so his name will be on the cenotaph in the town square. We will have Grandpa, wearing his old uniform, stand at the cenotaph and touch the name of the man. It was …”

“George Stiller,” Larissa finished. Rachael turned and stared at her.

“How did you know that?”

“Your grand-pere asked Marc to see if he could find M. Stiller’s grave, and get a photo of it. Marc e-mailed my uncle and he was able to find where it is, and will go out next week to take a picture of it.”

“Oooh, that is perfect. What if, instead of just the photo, we also ask him to get some video. What do you think, Mikki?”

“Those cemeteries are usually rows and rows of tombstones, aren’t they?” Mikki asked. Larissa nodded. “It would be cool if he could get a wide angle shot of like hundreds of stones, and then slowly zoom in on Mr. Stiller’s. I wish I could go and shoot it.”

“I think that airfare to France and back is a bit out of our budget, Mikki. But if Larissa’s oncle can film it for us, it will really add to the picture. Also, don’t let Marc give Grandpa the picture until we are ready to film it. I think it will make tears come to his eyes, and make a really moving scene.”

“The only other idea I have is to have a close up of the Victoria Cross at the end of the movie, when the credits with all our names roll by.”

“And where do you expect to get a Victoria Cross medal, girls?” Everyone jumped, not realizing that Mr. Churchill had been listening to them.

“My Grandpa has one,” Rachael said.

“I don’t know of any Cartrights winning the Victoria Cross,” the teacher said smugly. Perhaps you are mistaken, or your Grandpa is stretching the truth. In fact, at your age it would probably be a great-grandpa if he was in World War Two.”

“His name is Pierre Verdun. He served with the Vingt Deux and was awarded the Victoria Cross by the king, shortly after D-Day,” Rachael said.

“Let me see,” Mr. Churchill said, and he went to his teacher’s computer and started to search.

He came back, sheepishly apologizing to Rachael for not believing her. “He is listed in Wikipedia. Sgt. Pierre Verdun of Ingersoll, Ontario. I didn’t know we had a VC recipient in town.” He paused nervously. “You don’t think I could see the medal, do you. To be able to touch a Victoria’s Cross would be such an honor.”

“Maybe, or you could show up when we film it,” Rachael said. “So our project is okay?”

“Definitely. It sounds like you girls are well on the way. Some of the other groups haven’t started yet.”

“Well, we had a second good idea,” Rachael explained Carly’s idea.

“That is also an excellent one,” Mr. Churchill said. “I will offer it to one of the boys groups.”

“Leons?” Carly said.

“That was the group I was thinking of,” the teacher said.

“Just make sure that they know that they have to put Carly’s name in the credits,” Rachael insisted.

“I will, and I will make note of it in my notes. Carly will get credit for it, although something tells me that you are all going to get top marks if you pull off your movie.”

And finally, after a dull Math class, the group was surprised when Mrs. Cathcart in English noted that she also had completed the required work. She asked the class if they wanted to make the History film project an English project as well. She would mark the films for proper use or English, while Mr. Churchill would mark for content.

No one in the class objected. After all, making one project and having it marked twice was like getting a free period. She did require a written prospectus about their project for Friday from each group. Rachael’s group practically had one done, with the description that she had given the others making a rough prospective. She volunteered to clean it up by Thursday, so the others could approve of it for their presentation.

School was finally out, and Rachael, Larissa and Mikki went over to pick up Bobby and Marc. Then they headed towards the shops. Rachael asked the other girls if they would mind if she didn’t come all the way home with them. She wanted to stop in at the bakery for a few minutes. She asked them to say Hi to Grandpa if he was out when they went by, and warn him that Bobby and her would be a bit late today, but would stop in to see him.

When they got to the shops, there seemed to be a huge jam of people at Xcuts. Looking closely, Rachael saw that most of them were girls from the school. Carly’s hair cut had led to a swarm of girls wanting to get appointments.

“You can’t get an appointment today,” one of the girls standing outside the shop said. “She is totally booked up.”

The girls went in anyway, after Rachael took Marc and Bobby to the bakery. They could play on his flour ‘fort’ for a few minutes without getting bored. Geoff was probably gone.

Inside the tiny shop there were at least 20 girls standing at the counter, and another four sitting on chairs, smug in the knowledge that they would get a cut today.

The hairstylist, Carly had said she was Ariel something, was working on one girl’s hair, but looked up and said: “Sorry girls, I can’t help you for a few minutes. I can’t jump up to the counter when I’m doing a cut. It’s going to be at least another 15 minutes, and all these other girls are ahead of you. It will probably be a half hour before I can book you in for something in about a week.”

“No problem,” Larissa said. “We just wanted to peek in and look around. We can come back when you are less busy.”

“Are you in high school?” Ariel said. “I could use someone to take appointments for me.”

“No, Not until next year,” Larissa said.

“Damn, worth asking though,” Ariel said before turning back to clipping hair.

“Mikki, you’ve done appointment booking for your dad’s photo shoots, haven’t you. Could you do this?” Rachael turned the appointment book and they looked into it.

“Yes, it is pretty simple. Name, time, task, and phone number. I could do that. But I’m not old enough.”

“You could volunteer and do it for free,” Rachael suggested. “It would be good experience, and you might get a free styling out of it.”

“Okay. What should I do?”

“Miss. My friend here is experienced in appointments. She is only 13 too, but is willing to do it on a voluntary basis for today, since you are so busy. She could shout out what people want, and you could tell her how much time it will take.”

Ariel looked up. People had already left the line, and as a new business she wanted to make sure more people didn’t walk out. “Okay, let’s try this.”

Mikki moved to the other side of the counter, and asked the first girl in line what she wanted. “Just a shampoo and cut,” the girl said.

“Shampoo and cut,” Mikki called out.

“Forty minutes,” Ariel replied. Mikki took the girl’s name, and found an opening on Wednesday for her.

“How much time between appointments. For clean-up and prep,” Mikki called.

“Wow. Someone who knows her business,” Ariel said. “Five minutes.”

Rachael watched her friend set up another three appointments, and several of the girls who were loitering outside came back in when they saw people were starting to come out with appointments. Rachael also slipped out, and went to the bakery.

Geoff was still there, working on the computer. It was in a niche in the front, so that the flour that was always drifting around in the back wouldn’t clog up the works. “You, mister,” Rachael ordered,” should be upstairs in your bed.”

“Yes, go to bed,” Maria echoed from the counter.

Geoff got an exasperated look on his face. “Now there are two Cartright women nagging me. I just need to get this order in before I go. All done now.”

“Did you know that your new neighbor opened up next door?” Rachael said. “The beauty parlor opened today.”

“I saw the new window this morning,” Maria said. “It is really impressive.”

Geoff tousled his flour-covered hair. “Do you think I need a trim?”

“I don’t think she does men,” Rachael replied. “But I was thinking that you might want to make her a little platter of treats to welcome her to the area.”

“What a great idea. Maria, can you make a platter up of the left-over pastries. Maybe some cookies and brownies too. I’ll take it right over.”

“No, you are going to bed. I’ll take it over, and Rachael can watch the store.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going. I’m going.” After he left Rachael asked her mom if there were any cold cuts in the fridge.

“Yes. Geoff keeps some in there to make his lunch, when I can get him to eat. I think there is a part loaf of seven-grain in there too, and some lettuce. He’s starting to buy from DaSilva’s after I told him how good they were.”

“Do you think he would mind if I borrowed some? Mikki is working for Ariel, the salon lady, and they both will be getting hungry soon. I could make them some sandwiches to nibble on when they have a second. She is really busy over there today. One of girls came to school with a new cut she did yesterday, and almost every girl in the school wants a cut now.”

“I’m sure Geoff won’t mind two sandwiches out of his stash, especially if you make two more and wrap them up for him to have for his breakfast meal. In fact, use up the rest of the bread. After I can get back you can take them over. Check on your brother and Marc in the back. They are supposed to stay on the flour pile.

With that Maria left with a platter containing two dozen nibbles of sweets. Rachael made her sandwiches, and then peeked in the back. It was the first time she had been back there, and it was filled with large and ominous looking machines. In one corner there were huge bags of flour, piled about six feet high, with two young boys playing war on them. Rachael smiled, and went out into the store, hoping that there would be no customers before Maria returned.

There was one, a woman who had never been in the store before. Rachael explained that a lot of things were sold out, and that the best to come was in the morning. The woman complained a bit about the lack of selection, but Rachael pointed out that this policy meant that the goods were always fresh, unlike bread in the grocery store where it might sit for four days before you buy it.

“We don’t use all the preservatives they do, either,” she said. “It’s actually better to buy just one loaf of bread and then come back in a day or two for another, instead of buying two or three loaves at once.”

“Well I usually buy four loaves at one time, which bread do you recommend?” the woman asked.

“As I say, I would just buy one loaf of the seven-grain bread. It is healthy, but it tastes almost like cake. And it is better fresh than a week later, even if you put it in the fridge or freezer. The Danish pastries are ‘to die for’ and the chocolate chip cookies are recommended by my brother. He is nine, which makes him a cookie expert.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on getting desserts, but if I’m only buying one loaf of bread. I guess it is a good idea. I may not even like it.”

“I’m sure you will,” Rachael said. She got the bread, a half dozen Danish and a dozen cookies for the woman, and was wondering how she was going to take the money for it, since she hadn’t learned how to use the till, when Maria popped back in.

“Oh Mom,” Rachael said. “This woman bought a seven-grain, six Danish and a dozen chocolate chip cookies. But I don’t know how to work the till.”

“Well let’s cure that now,” Maria said, and after quickly cashing out the woman, explained the use of the cash register to Rachael. As she did, she chatted.

“The salon is staying open to 8 p.m. tonight, so your idea of a sandwich will be well received. I guess it was Mikki’s idea for her to change her hours to 12 to 8 to allow her to do more student cuts. Mikki is nearly done with the backlog, and says she doesn’t need a sandwich.”

“I also found out who did that wonderful sign. There is a raggedy old man who has been sweeping the sidewalks since Saturday, and he painted it for her on Sunday afternoon. He wouldn’t take any money though. He says he is doing it for the angels or something. I gave him a couple of rolls on Saturday, and again today. I think the DaSilva’s give him some fruit.”

“Gary!” Rachael recognized the description. “I’m glad he is getting food.” Rachael decided to take the sandwich she had made for Mikki to him.

“You know this man?” Maria asked suspiciously.

“I gave him a sandwich on Friday,” Rachael said. “He looked so hungry, and I had that extra one I made Thursday night. He was so happy.”

“Rachael, I don’t want you going near him alone, do you hear?” Maria warned.

“Okay Mom. I’m going to give him the sandwich I made for Mikki, but I will make sure Larissa comes out with me when I see him.

Rachael took the sandwiches over to the salon, and found Mikki had gotten through her backlog of appointments. While she had been signing people in, Larissa had been making and serving coffee to the girls waiting to get a style done. And once the treats from the bakery had arrived, handing those out as well.

Ariel looked hungrily at the sandwich Rachael had brought. “Please put it on the counter in the washup station,” Ariel said. “I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast, other than that wonderful Danish pastry. And Mikki has me booked until 8 p.m. tonight. Even working that late all week, I have a full appointment book from 4 to 8 for a week.

“And you have that high school girl at 6 tonight,” Mikki said. “I bet when the high school girls see her, you are going to get another rush tomorrow.”

“Oh my,” Ariel said. “And I’m booked solid after school for a week, and all Saturday.”

“I’ll come in after classes again for an hour tomorrow,” Mikki said. “And high school girls will have spare periods, or study hall, and will be able to make appointments earlier in the day. We will be able to squeeze most of them in.”

“You are a dear,” Ariel said. “I will see you tomorrow then. And all three of you will get free stylings, once the rush calms down.”

“That was fun,” Mikki said as the three left the shop and went to the bakery to pick up the boys. “I really enjoyed helping people get a time when they could get their hair done. It was a lot like making appointments for Dad, when he is doing portraits, but different.”

Soon the boys were in tow, and the three girls were heading across the easement. Rachael looked around, and then saw who she was looking for. “Wait here for me, girls,” she said as she hurried towards her raggedy man.

“You are feeding your hobo again,” Mikki quipped.

“No, you are,” Rachael said as she walked towards the man. “This is a sandwich I made for you when I thought you were going to be stuck in the salon all night.”

She chatted with Gary briefly, and then headed back to rejoin the girls.

That night she spoke to the Lord again

Dear Lord

Thanks so much for my good life. I loved visiting the farm. Church was scary on Sunday, but I hope I helped. I doubt we will see Paul and John come back though. I’m sure that John, at least, will be in church somewhere next week. Please find him a place that will accept them. I haven’t heard about Rev. McNaughton. Please let him be okay.

And help me find a way to help Gary. He did a beautiful job painting the window to the salon, and is trying to make himself useful to the merchants. He deserves a better life.

Amen.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Judging by the comments, people are very interested in Gary. So it is fitting that today’s chapter deals with him, and not a day in Rachael’s life (although she does show up at the end): Dawn.

INTERLUDE

On Saturday morning, Gary Sovey woke up feeling better than he had in years. His mind was not clouded in an alcoholic haze, and his hands no longer trembled. He looked around his hidey-hole. It was in a culvert under the street where the power transmission easement passed, leading from one side of the road to the other to provide drainage for the area. The drainage ditch below him had less than a foot of water in it, although in the spring the water had been as high as a foot away from the ledge of concrete that he slept on. He had a bundle of blankets stacked there. At this time of the year he slept on top of most of them, with just a light sheet over top. In the winter he had slept on the concrete, under all of them. He had still been cold, but it was much warmer under the road than it was out in the open.

In a pile there were his winter clothes: a massive army surplus coat, and a heavy pair of snowmobile boots. There were two apples next to them, and when Gary looked at them he smiled. The angel had given them to him. She said he should eat them if he couldn’t get any other food. That was good, because he knew there were no soup kitchens open on Saturdays. He probably would go hungry, if the angel hadn’t left him the apples.

He thought about his meeting with the glowing angel. She was beautiful and tall in his memory, all dressed in white. He recounted every word she had said. Then he started thinking about what she had not said. What did she want him to do? Why had she appeared to him?

He finally came to the conclusion that she wanted him to help people. For years he had been nothing but a drunken burden on society. She would want him to reverse that, and become useful. But what could he do?

He looked at the old broom that he used to sweep out his hidey-hole. It was the only tool he had left. He vaguely remembered a time when he had a lot of tools, but now there was just the broom. He picked it up and wended his way out of the hidey-hole, making sure that no one saw him come out onto the easement.

This was where he had met the angel. She had come from the shops over there. There was one shop that was still empty, and it had a faucet on the side. Gary went over to that faucet, and turned it on. First he washed his face, getting his neck and arms clean as well. He couldn’t remember the last time he had washed. Now, with clean hands, he cupped them and brought water to his mouth. It was delicious. The angel had told him it would be. He drank deeply several more times, filling his stomach with the delicious water.

Then he took his broom and went to the shops. He started to sweep the sidewalks in the early dawn light. It took about a half hour to clean in front of all of them, including the empty store. There was a book place, a fruit and vegetable store, a bakery, and the two new places. He didn’t know what they were for.

Gary went back to the easement and sat on a stone near where he had seen the angel yesterday. She had said she wouldn’t come back today, so he just waited to see what would happen. Eventually a man came and started putting fruit and vegetables out in front of his store. Then a pretty blonde lady came by and went into the bakery. Gary was intrigued to see her walking down the street. She reminded him of the angel, although less beautiful.

Anthony DaSilva finished his outside display. It was one of the key lures the shop had to get customers into the store. He looked about, and saw that the sidewalk had already been swept. Tony was on the ball this morning, he thought. He walked back into the store, where his son was setting up some of the internal displays.

“Good job on the sidewalk,” Anthony told his son in Italian. “Very nice. Very clean.”

“What?” Tony answered in the same language. “I haven’t been outside yet. I will get the sidewalk swept when I finish in here. I know you like it clean.”

“It is clean already,” the father said. “I wonder who swept it?”

In the bakery Geoff came out during a gap between mixing sweets for the store, he had learned to time it so he could spend five minutes giving the storefront a quick sweep each day while goods were baking. He did it early, because if he did it later someone would come by, and want to chat. That meant the baking might burn. When he first opened, sweeping wasn’t part of his routine, and the store quickly started to look shabby without a morning sweep.

He stepped quickly back into the shop. “Maria, you shouldn’t sweep the sidewalk,” he said. “There is more than enough to do in here in the morning.”

“I didn’t sweep it,” she said as she sliced the fresh bread. “I noticed it was swept when I came in. I assumed you had done it earlier.”

“I wonder who swept it,” the baker said, mimicking the words of his neighbor, although in a different language.

Gary sat on his stone, disgusted at what he saw as the morning went on. People were constantly throwing rubbish on his sidewalk. If it was something big, like litter, he would get up, go and pick it up, and carry it to the big bin behind the fruit market.

Smokers were the worst, he decided. They would just flick their ashes, and even cigarette butts anywhere. Once it left their hands, it was gone, to their minds. But it was not gone. It was on his clean sidewalk, cluttering it and offending the angel, he was sure.

At about 10 a.m. he got the broom and went back, sweeping the sidewalk again. He was noticed by the woman in the bakery, but not by anyone in the market.

“The sweeping mystery is solved,” Maria mentioned to Geoff as they passed in their duties. “There is an old hobo out there with a broom right now. I wonder if he is hungry?”

“Well, if he does it again, give him a couple stale rolls,” Geoff suggested. “I hope it won’t make him loiter around though. He might scare off the customers.”

Gary went back to his stone, and sat again, watching passersby continue to throw their filth around without a care. He decided to sweep again in mid afternoon. His angel would want the sidewalk clean, he was sure.

This time the Italian lady in the market noticed him, and she was about to come out and shoo him away until she saw what he was doing. She went back into her shop, a little confused.

Further down, as Gary was finishing up in front of the bakery, the lady who reminded him of his angel came out. She handed him two large fresh rolls, and said she would appreciate it if he didn’t eat them in front of the store. He popped one in each pocket, and then continued to sweep the other storefronts.

It was three when Gary decided to make another clean sweep. The rolls had been filling, and he was still a little hungry. This meant he wouldn’t eat the angel’s apples, since she said they were for a day when he had no other food.

This time when he swept, the Italian lady came out, with three over-ripe bananas. They wouldn’t be salable on Monday, and she had enough for her Sunday baking without them, so she decided to give them to the sweeper, instead of throwing them in the bin out back. He accepted them politely, and then continued to sweep.

The pretty lady in the bakery saw him, and smiled at him. Gary felt pleasure. He couldn’t remember the last time a pretty woman had smiled at him. Usually he only saw looks of revulsion and disgust. He held his head a little higher as he went back to his stone, where he sat and ate the bananas. He felt full for the first time in a long while.

He did his last sweep in the late evening, just before dark. The bakery was closed, as was the market. He could hear music from upstairs at the market, a radio or television, perhaps. The upstairs of the bakery, and all the other shops, was dark and quiet. When he was done, he took his broom down into his hidey-hole. He felt proud of himself. He had kept the sidewalk clean all day long. He felt sure that his angel would approve.

Sunday morning he awoke to the same routine. Today none of the shops were open, although he could hear sounds above the market again. He didn’t care. He swept up at dawn, and twice more again in the morning. Not so many cars went by, throwing trash from their windows, but those that did he picked up after.

Just after noon he went out again, but was dismayed to see a woman with odd-looking hair painting the window to her shop. He couldn’t sweep with someone painting. The dust would ruin the work.

Not that the painting was going well. The woman was clearly not used to painting, and was pretty much making a mess of it.

“Can I show you how to do it?” he asked.

The frustrated, but pretty woman looked at him and smiled. This made Gary feel happy. He took the brush from her hand, and showed her how to do it. “Like this, with long flowing strokes, not short stubby ones. You need to let the paint do the work, not the brush.”

“You are a painter?” the woman asked.

“I was, once. A long time ago,” Gary said, remembering into his cloudy past. “Among other things.”

“Could you paint this?” the woman held out a computer printout of the window, with a wild-looking design on it. “It was so easy on the computer, but I just don’t have the talent. I want to paint over the entire picture window. Ladies in a salon don’t like people looking in on them, and I thought this would be better than just a curtain. Besides, I can’t afford to buy a big sign yet. I will pay you for it.”

“The angel wants me to help people,” Gary said. “I will paint it for you. But you need blue paint. You have yellow and red, and I think that will be enough black. You won’t have enough yellow though. You need another pint I think. And two quarts of the blue.”

“Thank God Home Depot is open on Sunday,” she said. “Can I go get paint while you try to salvage this mess?”

It was nearly an hour later when Ariel returned with the paint, along with a selection of brushes, paint thinner to clean them, and painter’s tape. Gary accepted all of it politely, but refused the painter’s tape. He said it was easier to just paint carefully rather than mess with tape.

Ariel was amazed at what he had done in a short time. The sign was about a third done, and she watched with amazement as he copied the printed plan, drawing the curves of the font perfectly by eye.

She then heard car brakes slam on the road behind them. She turned, and the car that had stopped backed up, and then pulled into a parking space. A woman and her daughter got out.

“See Mom,” the girl said. “This is the new shop I was telling you about. Are you opening soon?”

“Tomorrow, I hope. Now that I have the sign being done for me, everything is ready for then. I want to start at 9 a.m. and will be open until 6.”

“Can I make an appointment for, like 4?” the girl said. “I get out of school then. Unless I can skip school and come in earlier?” She looked hopefully at her mother.

“Not a chance,” the mother said. “You can book for 4, if that time is open.”

“It is all open,” Ariel said. “The appointment book is empty right now. In fact, if you want I could take you right now. It would give me a chance to test out all my equipment and how it is arranged.”

“Oh, Mom, can I?” the girl gushed.

“Well, I have some shopping to do at the mall,” the mother said. “But if you would rather be here I’ll come back and pick you up in what? A half hour?”

“Give me an hour,” Ariel said. “I’d like to try a few things with her, if she is interested.”

As the mother drove off, Ariel led the girl into the shop. “My name is Carly Henderson,” the girl said.

An hour later Mrs. Henderson returned. She was amazed at Carly’s hair. The once long locks had been cut into a radical looking style. For a minute she wasn’t sure about it, but then she realized that it was perfect for the shape of her face. Her daughter looked awesome.

“What is this going to cost me?” Mrs. Henderson said. “It looks like a million dollars.”

“Well, it won’t cost that much,” Ariel joked. “How about $40? It would normally be more like $60, for a full hour, but I was taking my time and such.”

“That is a bargain,” Mrs. Henderson said, pulling out two twenties. “Do you like it sweetheart?”

“I love it,” Carly gushed. “Wait till the girls at school see it.”

All three women walked out of the shop together, and turned around to look at the sign, which was nearly done. It was amazing. The cutting edge design that Ariel had made on the computer was duplicated almost perfectly on the window. Paint obscured the view in, and made an eye-catching display that was far better than any sign.

“You are a genius, Gary,” Ariel said. “What do I owe you for it? Would $200 be enough? You’ve worked on it all afternoon. Maybe $300.”

“No money,” Gary insisted. “My angel wants me to help people. I helped you.”

Ariel was aghast. How could this impoverished looking man not want any money?”

“How can I not pay you?” she said. “I have to give you something.”

“I am hungry. If you have a little food, that would be nice,” Gary admitted.

“I’m on it. If you finish before I get back, wait here for me,” Ariel said getting into her car and driving off.

A half hour later she was back, and Gary was cleaning the brushes. The sign was finished, and Ariel thought it was spectacular. And the take out meals she had in the bags had only cost her $30. She had two bags. One was for her to take upstairs to her little apartment for her supper. But the other one, with a double order was for Gary. What a wonderful bargain. She knew she owed the man more, but didn’t know how to get him to accept it. She would let everyone she met know who had done the sign. Maybe he would get more work. But if he refused to take money …? She was stumped.

“Here Gary, this is for you,” Ariel said, handing him the takeout bag.

“That smells wonderful,” Gary said. “Thank you so much. I have cleaned all the brushes, and sealed all the paint cans. The black one was empty, so I threw it in the bin. Keep the others in case we need to touch it up.”

“You are a doll, Gary, thank you so much.”

“It is all I can do for my angel,” the man said, walking towards the easement. “She wants me to help people.”

“Well you certainly helped me,” Ariel told him before he was around the edge of the buildings.

Gary went to his hidey-hole. It was getting late, and he couldn’t sweep again without disturbing the paint. It would be dry enough in the morning, he hoped. He sat in his hole, and took out the meal. To him, it was a feast: a double order of open-faced beef sandwich, with the gravy still hot. There was a coffee there, but he drained that into the stream. He only could drink water. There were mashed potatoes, and mixed vegetables, also in double portions. He saved the two rolls, smaller and not as good smelling as the ones the bakery lady had given him. They would be breakfast.

The meal filled Gary completely, meaning the apples would sit on the pad for another day. His angel was changing his life completely. He was well fed, and he would feel pride every time he walked past Ariel’s window. It was all due to the angel, he decided.

Monday he was up early again. He gently touched the paint on the last part of the window he had done, and found it completely dry, so he made his first sweep of the street.

Later, the woman from the bakery gave him two buns. They were much tastier than the ones he had for breakfast from the dinner Ariel had bought. In the afternoon he only got two bananas, but they were bigger ones, and fresh too.

That afternoon he was dismayed to see a large group of girls congregating outside his window. He couldn’t sweep with them there, and some of them were littering his sidewalk. He just sat and fumed.

Then he saw her. It was his angel. She looked over and saw him sitting on his stone, and came towards him. She reached into her bag, and pulled out another of those delicious sandwiches, and another bottle of water.

“Are you hungry, Gary,” she asked. She remembered his name. He felt honored.

“A little,” he said. “I have been doing good. I keep the street clean, and I painted a window for the nice lady in that store.”

“You painted the window?” she said. “It is beautiful. I really, really like it. God has given you special talents.”

“Have you been drinking,” she then asked seriously.

“Yes ma’am,” he said. “But only water. Water is delicious.”

“Good,” the angel said. “Then I will bring you another sandwich tomorrow after school.”

Angels go to school, Gary thought? He didn’t care. He was ecstatic. The angel liked his window. She said God was happy. He didn’t think of anyway his life could get better as the angel walked back to the store with his window.

He turned and went to his hidey-hole. It would be another day without the apples.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

TUESDAY, May 17, 2016

Classes Tuesday morning were beyond special. English and History were project periods, and in between the students were expecting boring Math classes. But the teacher, Mr. Hughes, said that they had also completed all the coursework required the provincial standards. Instead of the optional extra unit the Ministry recommended, the instructor announced that he wanted to try something new as well.

He had heard about the movie project in the other two classes, and really couldn’t work in a way to bring math directly into their projects. But he had spent the weekend building a Movie Game. As he explained it, each team, the same ones as for the video project, would create a budget for a Hollywood Blockbuster movie. The groups would choose the genre for the film: rom-com, farce, drama, musical, action, space, horror, or cartoon. Each genre had a set number of shooting days, and a rate for shooting. Space and action movies had higher production costs than rom-com, due to animation costs, for instance, and musicals were expensive due to the numbers of cast needed.

The groups would also choose their cast, selecting six stars. Mr. Hughes, the teacher, had found a website that gave the fees that each star gets. To get a really big star, you had to pay a big salary. But each star had a ‘gate factor,’ so if you scrimped on the cast, you wouldn’t sell as many tickets. Mr. Hughes suggested picking one really big male star, and one really big female, with the other four being lower levels.

You also had to pick stars that fit your genre. If you picked an actress who only did rom-coms, and put her in an action movie, there was a flop factor. You would roll a die, and if it hit a 4 to 6, she did well in the new genre. But a 1 to 3 and she flops.

There were several other variables. Filming in Hollywood, Vancouver, New York, Toronto or on location all had associated costs. Hollywood was the highest cost, but your stars would cost 10% less, because they could work near their home. On location was most expensive.

The groups would spend one period making their choices, and then another hour doing calculations to try and calculate costs and revenues for their picture, based on the defaults. (Of course there was math involved. It was the math game). Then a third hour would come to add the variables into the game. There would be a series of dice rolls for almost every option, and this would multiply or cut into your costs and revenues. As the dice were being rolled, the groups would have to make calculations on how well their movie did.

It was the dice that really controlled the game. If you rolled 24 sixes in the various elements, you would win even if you made pretty terrible choices all the way through the process. And all ones would mean that the movie that seemed like a sure hit would come in as a flop. Of course, it would be almost impossible to know how the dice would land, so each group would have a good chance of winning.

The game would run once a week for the rest of term, with a new movie each week. The only prizes were bragging rights, and in a grade eight class that was a rich prize. The best thing was that the English and History teachers had agreed that the game would only run on Fridays. The other four days of the week would have no math class, so students could work on their films for three consecutive periods, and then play the math game during the three periods on Friday.

Of course the students all loved the idea, and were abuzz with ideas when the bell rang and it was time for the History class. They had worked on the video in English first period, and were supposed to be back at it for the third period. Not having to break for math in the future meant they would be able to get much more done working straight through.

As she walked to History, Rachael wished that she had young, innovative teachers like Mr. Hughes when she initially had gone to school so many years ago. Then, everything was out of the book, and teachers didn’t seem to want to take chances like Mr. Hughes was. No doubt he would present the game to other teachers in Professional Development days in the future if it worked. And she didn’t see how it couldn’t work. His plan was going to force the students to do percentages, statistics, and countess calculations. But they were going to be having fun doing it, because of the game element. To her, it was a sure-fire winner.

The result was that about half of the History class wound up with the students talking about the Math game rather than their projects, but Mr. Churchill had been expecting that, and didn’t get uptight about it. Eventually Rachael got the girls thinking about the video, and making plans.

On the weekend Mikki had gone to the cenotaph downtown, and confirmed that Cpl. Stiller’s name was on it, and in a location near the bottom of the list, so that Grandpa (all the girls were calling him that now) could reach out and touch it. She said that the light would be best in the early morning, and suggested a Sunday at about 6:30 a.m. That was early enough that they would be no traffic noises, or onlookers to bother them. She suggested that they plan three hours, from 6 to 9, which would barely allow Rachael to get back in time for church.

“Rachael said this was only going to be 90 seconds of the video,” Carly noted. “How can it take three hours to shoot 90 seconds?”

“You would be surprised,” Larissa said. “When I was modeling, there were hours of setup for a short shoot. And they would take hundreds of the same shot, over and over again.”

“I expect I will film it at least four times,” Mikki said. “I will want different angles, so we can edit together. And we can’t be sure how Grandpa is at speaking his lines. He is a great speaker when he is sitting in his chair talking to us, but you never know how someone will react when they are in front of the camera.”

“I’m hoping we don’t have to give him lines,” Rachael said. “I will stand off camera, and ask him a question, and just let him talk naturally. I think that will be the best way. And then we can edit all the takes together and get all the best parts. My voice asking the question will be edited out. Carly or Larissa will speak the lines that frame the scene, depending if this is the start or the middle of the video.” Carly was going to introduce the video at the start, and sum it up at the end, while Larissa was going to be the on-camera hostess, leading Grandpa through the scenes.

The bell rang with the girls busy discussing the project. They hadn’t even noticed the time, and had to hurriedly move their desks back into position for the next class. Then it was off for lunch.

At lunch they heard from some of the other groups. Leon’s group was not using Carly’s idea: apparently Mr. Churchill had offered that to another group. His group was going to do a movie about the Ingersoll Big Cheese. This was a historic event when the Ingersoll dairies of the time had made a massive wheel of cheddar that weighed about four tons. It was sent to a fair in New York State, and then to Liverpool, where it got publicity in all the newspapers there. It established Ingersoll as a cheese-making center. The highlight of their video was that Neal, who was on the team, planned to draw several cartoon montages to show the cheese being made, backed up by exhibits and photos borrowed from the local museum. It sounded like their video could give the girls some competition for best in the class. Robert and Tony were the other two boys on their team.

“Oh, Mom wants you to come out to the farm again on Saturday,” Robert told Rachael later in the lunch.

“I don’t think I can,” Rachael said. “I am supposed to look after my little brother Bobby. It is one thing to take a day off for something like the farm, but I can’t make them have to work around my fun again. Tell her I can’t, as much as I would like to.”

“Okay,” Robert said tentatively. “She was pretty insistent that you come, for some reason. I’ll tell her you can’t.”

After lunch, Science and French followed. These classes had not completed the provincial requirements, so there were no projects offered. In the double science class Rachael was bored, so she wrote a little story she thought would work well for the bakery. It went like this:

Love Bread

We used to call this seven-grain bread, because it contains flour from seven different grains. But someone pointed out that the main ingredient in it is Love. We put Love into all our baked products, as you might guess, but this bread is just crammed with Love. So we have decided to rename it Love Bread. We hope you will buy a loaf or two, and give some Love to your family.

In French Mme. Lafleur did stop by and ask Larissa if she had any videos from French movies or TV. The girl suggested Les Aventures de Tintin, and said she had a couple of DVDs of that. Apparently these would be shown in the last week of classes, when the teacher knew that more strenuous learning would not hold the attention of the students.

After school Mikki zipped out right away, rushing to get to Xcuts to help Ariel. Larissa and Rachel walked over to the elementary school to pick up Marc and Bobby for the walk home. At the bakery she stopped in to show her Mom the story she had written about Love Bread, and Maria decided to use her executive powers, in Geoff’s absence, to post the story on the bread display. If Geoff liked the story, he could print out a better copy on his computer tomorrow.

On the way home Rachael popped in to check if Ariel and Mikki were all right. If anything, there were more girls in the shop today, since the high school student from yesterday’s style had caused almost as much of a sensation in the high school as Carly’s had in middle school on Monday. Most of the girls were opting for styling during study periods, or lunch, rather than wait three weeks for an after-4 appointment.

Rachael stopped by with Gary and handed him another sandwich, chatting with him for a minute, and then the group went to Grandpa’s. The boys went and got Miss Lajoie to let them take the dogs for a walk, and a play in the yard, while the girls went in to interview Grandpa about the movie. He recounted some of the stories. Larissa was most interested in the stories about his actions in France, but Rachael had him tell of the liberation of Holland, where the people had been starved by the Nazis at the end. Rachael knew that there were a lot of Dutch immigrants to the Ingersoll area after the war, and this would make the story interesting to them.

Rachael made it home at 5:45, leaving just a half hour before dinner. She found the front porch stacked with empty boxes. Geoff had gotten all the boxes from the bakery, as well as more from the grocery store, and carted them to the Cartright house so that the family could start packing for their move to Grandpa’s.

Maria made it home at 6:15, and by then Rachael had made a quick dinner. Sloppy Joe’s, to Bobby’s delight, made with buns that Maria had bought at the bakery and brought home with her.

Bobby was reading his library books, and Maria and Rachael were starting to pack in their respective rooms when the doorbell rang. Bobby ran and got it, then ran back to report that “a man was here to see Rachael.” Both women came down.

It was Mr. Maclean, the church deacon. Maria invited him in. He immediately noticed all the boxes piled up. “You are moving?” he said.

“Yes, we will be moving down the street in a short time. There is a new owner of the house, and we can’t afford the rent.”

“Do you know what the new rent is?” the deacon asked.

“Probably $800 a month. That is more than twice what we were paying,” Maria said.

“That is actually fairly reasonable for a house. I wonder if you could give me the name of the owner. The church has just hired a young pastor to take over until Rev. McNaughton is well enough to resume his duties. Of course, he will continue to live in the manse, so the new pastor will need a place to live. The presbytery will finance the cost of the rent for us: our church could never afford it. Do you mind if I call the new pastor in to see the house? She is in the car.”

The word ‘she’ caught Rachael’s attention. When the woman came into the house, she was wearing clerical robes. She was about 25 or so, clearly just out of the seminary. She was rather plain looking, with light brown hair that hung down to chin level. She had a longish face, and a prominent chin. Her skin was nice though, and her dark brown eyes seemed friendly. The robes concealed her figure, but she seemed thin, and probably small-breasted. She was about Maria’s height, 5’5”.

Her name was Helen McFarland.

“What a sweet little house,” Helen said as Maria took her through the house. “I wonder if the church can get it for me? It will depend on if they want a lease or not. We need something month-by-month, as we don’t know how long I will be here. It is my first job, other than a few replacements for ill pastors.”

“I’m sure you will do fine,” Maria said when they finished the quick tour, and got back to the living room, where the deacon and Rachael had stayed.

“Mom, the deacon wants me to come with him to the hospital,” Rachael said. “Rev. McNaughton got out of intensive care this morning, and he has asked to see me. Should I go? He was pretty upset with me the last time we were together.”

“It will probably take an hour,” the deacon said. “The pastor has not yet met his temporary replacement, so I asked Miss McFarland to accompany us, for propriety reasons. He did not sound as though he was angry with your daughter. In fact, he seemed very interested in talking with her.”

“But what if he gets angry again?” Rachael asked. “That can’t be good for his recovery.”

“Well then, you will just have to be careful not to get him angry, won’t you,” Maria said. “Off with you then. We will see you when you get back.”

At the hospital Rachael was amazed at the number of flowers that were filling the Reverend’s room. Apparently he was well loved by his congregation. She felt sad that she hadn’t brought something. A plate of cookies might have done the trick.

“Where is she?” she heard the pastor’s voice as the deacon and Miss McFarland entered the room in front of her. “This is not the right girl.”

“This is your new replacement, Miss …”

“There she is,” the pastor said as Rachael stepped up next to Helen. “You two leave. I need to talk to the girl.”

The deacon hesitated, until he saw that remaining was making the pastor upset. He led Helen out of the room, closing the door behind them. The pastor calmed down immediately.

“Please sit, my dear,” he gestured to the bedside chair. “I think we have a mutual friend, and I didn’t want the others to overhear. They might put me in the nut house.”

He then described the visitation he had seen when he was unconscious, as Rachael had performed CPR on him. When he described his Angel John, Rachael was sure it was the same St. John as she had met.

“I have never been there,” Rachael said, “but I think you were at the gates of heaven. I do recognize the angel who spoke to you. He told me he was St. John.”

“Yes, yes,” the pastor said excitedly. “He told me to call him John. He also told me to listen to you. ‘She has wisdom beyond her years, which are greater than they appear.’ Confusing, but I feel I need to listen to you. I didn’t listen in church on Sunday, and now look where I am. At least there aren’t so many machines hooked up to me as there were in that other place.”

“The ICU? Yes, but they kept you alive,” Rachael said.

“You kept me alive, I was told,” the pastor said. “Why did you do it? I was arguing with you one minute, and the next you are giving me CPR.”

“You don’t deserve to die, if we can help it,” Rachael said. “Only the Lord decides when it is someone’s time.”

“John was right, you do have wisdom beyond your years,” the pastor said. “If I had died then, I would not have gotten into heaven. My late wife was there, and told me so. I need to finish up some things here first. Will you help me?”

“Of course,” Rachael said. “What sort of things?”

“Well, I guess I need to apologize to those two … men. I called them sinners, and now I have been told, just as you told me, that they are children of God, and deserve to be treated better. Do you know how I could contact them?”

“I do. They have a little shop a few blocks from the church. They are open Tuesday to Saturday. We could go visit them next week, or later if you are not up to it yet.”

“I will be ready. They say they will probably release me on Thursday. I will be at church on Sunday,” he said. He reacted to the alarm in Rachael’s face. “Oh, not to lead. They have brought that other girl in to do that. But I will attend the service, even if it is just to sit on a chair somewhere. Bring those two others in.”

Rachael went to the door, and found the other two outside. They each had a cup of coffee in hand, so they must have found a machine. She ushered them in.

“You were introducing this young lady to me, Maclean, when I rudely interrupted. If you could continue?”

“Yes. Erm, this is Helen McFarland,” the deacon said. “She is recently ordained, and had excellent marks from seminary. She is willing to fill in for as long as we need.”

“Humpf. It might be a while,” the pastor said. “I think young blood is what our old church needs. I might just transition from sick leave to retirement. Reverend Emeritus has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Tell me girl, what is your position on homosexuals in the church?”

Helen only hesitated for a minute. “It is a sin. The Bible makes that clear. But I feel that they should be welcomed into the church. All of us are sinners in one way or another. Excluding them is wrong.”

“You are wrong,” the pastor said. “It is not a sin. I have that on highest authority.” He glanced skyward. “They are loving people who deserve the same respect and dignity as every other congregant. Can you live with that?”

“Yes sir,” Helen said. “I have wrestled long hours with this question. Are you sure?”

“I am. I heard it from an Angel of the Lord himself,” the pastor said. “When I was unconscious, I had a near death experience, and went to the very gates of heaven. The Angel there told me to listen to the advice of Rachael here. As she quite succinctly explained to us last Sunday, most of Leviticus no longer applies. I want our church to be open and caring, welcoming all. Race, gender, sexual orientation should not be barriers between man and God.”

Helen smiled widely. “I can do that.”

The deacon, however, was more hesitant. “Are you sure about that Thomas? There are a lot of older members in the church who may object. We cannot afford to upset the ones who provide the church with the most funding.”

“I would rather offend a few people here than offend God almighty,” the reverend almost shouted. Rachael reached over and touched his shoulder. He turned and smiled at her, and calmed himself. “We might lose one or two families to another church,” he said. But I intend to ask those two young men to come back to our church. I pray that they will forgive me and come.”

The deacon did not look convinced, but didn’t say anything else. His task was to manage the church budget and property, while the pastor looked after things spiritual. If the pastor did something that threatened his revenue stream, he would have to do with less. Making do with less had been a part of his job since he volunteered for the position four years earlier.

On the ride back to drop Rachael off, the girl had an idea. “Deacon Maclean,” she said. “Has the church found a caretaker yet?”

“No dear, not yet. There don’t seem to be many out there who are interested in a part time job that is only eight hours a week at minimum wage. We do need to get someone soon. The congregation are starting to complain about the condition of the church. I’m going to have to mow the lawn myself on Friday.”

“What time will you be there?” Rachael said. “I have someone who might be able to handle the job.”

Shortly thereafter, Rachael got off at home, and headed in, managing to get a half hour packing done before she saw her brother standing in his underwear outside her door, holding the second Harry Potter book. “Momma says she is too busy to read,” he said softly. “Are you?”

“I’m never too busy for you, Bobby,” she said. “You hop into bed, and I’ll be there in a minute.” She watched as he ran to his room. She was amazed at seeing him so scantily clad. He looked so much thinner than he had a month ago. He still was overweight, but no longer was it obese. And with all the running around he was doing with his new friends, he would definitely soon be in shape. She then squeezed one of her love handles. If only the same could happen to her. But as she did so, she realized that the love handles were no longer as big as they had been.

Dear Lord

Please bless everyone. Our new pastor seems to be a good fit for the church. But she seems to have a sadness about her. Please let her be happy here, as long as it lasts. Thank you for allowing Rev. McNaughton to live. He is loved, and now he seems willing to change with the times. I think he might be a great pastor serving you. And please let everyone be happy, and full of love.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Sorry for such a long gap between chapters. This one left me floundering for a few days. Hopefully I can get another one done before the weekend. (Some might find this one requires a tissue alert.) Dawn

WEDNESDAY, May 18, 2016

In the morning Rachael spent a full hour packing boxes, and she had several full. The family was uncertain as to when they would move. There seemed to be no rush. Since the letter from the landlord had arrived in mid month, technically they would be able to stay until July 31, based on two months notice. But with Grandpa willing to have them move in as soon as possible, Maria was hoping to move by the end of June, if not the end of May. She had written back to the new landlord, telling him that when she and her husband had rented the place almost 14 years ago, they had paid a first and last, with a $100 cleaning deposit. She confirmed that they would leave by July 31, and mentioned that they might be able to vacate a month earlier. Of course that was back when they were still hoping to move into an apartment. Things were different now.

Maria had also gotten a financial shock on Monday when Geoff had handed her a first paycheck. She had been expecting a gross pay of about $450 based on 40 hours at minimum wage. But the check Geoff handed her was for 60 hours and had a gross pay of $787.50. The baker explained that she was in before 8 every morning, and had stayed past 6. He gave her 10 hours for the day, since she often ate lunch while staffing the counter. At six days a week, that was a total of 20 more hours at time-and-a-half, resulting in the large gross pay.

Even without tips Maria’s pay was higher than at the restaurant. She loved working with Geoff and his mom, and the work was actually easier, as in the afternoon when there were no customers, she could sit a bit if the shop was tidy. She never sat down in the café.

The result is that she was able to give Rachael an extra $20 for groceries, and another $20 just for her. Friday would be a pizza day at the elementary school, and Bobby was ecstatic to learn that he would be able to have the $5 needed to buy a pizza.

Maria made Bobby’s breakfast, so Rachael could keep packing a bit longer. She had done a lot of her packing when Rachael had been at the hospital the night before. Rachael didn’t come down until 7:30, when Maria left for work after getting a hug from each of her kids.

Rachael got Bobby on his bus, and then waited for hers. Larissa and Mikki got on at their stop. Larissa went to the back to sit with Carla and Becca, and Mikki sat with Rachael. She was not happy.

“Our family is back together,” she noted, “but things are still rough. Dad has been sleeping on the sofa, and Danni still won’t talk to him. When he comes into the room, she will leave. Mom even took her to the beauty salon yesterday, and got her a cute feminine hairstyle. She was in a dress, so all the ladies assumed she was a natural girl, which she loved. Mom even said that Dad paid for the trip, but Danni insists that she still hates him. He drove back to Toronto this morning, and says he is going to quit his job. He intends to live here all the time. His family is more important than his job, he says. He thinks he can make a living doing photography around here. Mom isn’t so sure.”

“Wow, I wish I could come over and talk to him,” Rachael said. “But last time I was there he was pretty angry with me.”

“Oh that is all over with,” Mikki said. “In fact, after he moved back home he said that he wanted to apologize to you. He will be in Toronto for at least a couple days. Why don’t you come over after school? Danni would love to see Bobby again. She absolutely idolizes him.”

“Yeah, I guess we could do that. I can’t stay too long, though. We are packing up to move.”

At school the school was on an A schedule, with French and PE in the morning, and then the afternoon devoted to their project. PE was different. Ms. Smith juggled the teams up, and Rachael was moved to another group that had been struggling in basketball. Carly was moved to her old team. Other changes were made to the other two teams as well.

Rachael’s new team included Layla and Becca, who had been Carly’s friends when the teams were made. None of the girls were great at basketball, although three of the other girls on the team were. As a result, Layla, Becca, and Carly had gotten minimal playing time.

One of the other good players was the team captain, and Rachael accepted this. She did take Layla and Becca aside to work on fundamentals with them when suddenly Layla swore at her, and then stormed out of the gym.

“What’s that all about,” Rachael asked Becca.

“Dunno,” Becca said. “She’s been really weird the past few weeks, since the sleepover. I really don’t care. She doesn’t seem to even want to be friends with Carly and me, and we’ve been besties since kindergarten.”

“Everybody needs friends,” Rachael said as she watched the girl storm out of the gym. She then concentrated on working with Becca, who slowly started to gain some familiarity with the ball.

At the end of the class, Ms. Smith came over. “What happened to Layla? She was working with you, and then she left.”

“Uhh, I think she got ill,” Rachael lied. “I think it was female problems.”

“Oh,” Ms. Smith nodded. “I won’t mark her absence then.”

In lunch Rachael looked around for Layla, but couldn’t see her in the cafeteria. She sat down next to Robert, and unpacked her lunch.

“You have to come to the farm on Saturday,” Robert told her. “Mom is insistent. She said Bobby is welcome to come if you do. I’ll show him around the farm while you and Mom do whatever it is that she wants. But she says it is super important.”

“Well, if Bobby comes there is no reason why I shouldn’t be able to go. I will have to ask Mom, but I’m pretty sure that she will say it is okay.”

“Whew. I don’t think I was going to get dinner tonight if I couldn’t agree to get you to come. Mom was so insistent.”

“Do you know why?”

“No. She just said that it was super important.”

“You look tired, has this been keeping you awake at night?” Rachael asked.

“No I sleep like a rock. There just isn’t enough of it,” Robert said. “I have been working at two farms. As soon as I get home from school I go to help JJ with the milking at Archie’s farm. And since JJ went over there, I got more chores at our farm. But they did promise that I would be allowed to come in to movie night.”

Movie night?” Rachael slapped her head. “I forgot that I have to collect for it.”

“Here’s my toonie,” Robert slid a coin across the table. Rachael pocketed it, and then went around the hall, gathering the others.

After school Mikki again went straight to Xcuts, while Larissa and Rachael went to the primary school to pick up their brothers. Rachael had shopping to do at both DaSilva’s and the bakery, and popped into the gallery to say ‘hi’ to Paul and John. Both had heard about how the service had wound up after they left. Paul thought it was hilarious that the Reverend was struck down after prodding the Lord to do so.

“It was just a heart attack,” John told his partner, “and it is not funny. I hope he is well.”

“I think he is better now,” Rachael said. “There is a new interim pastor, a girl just out of seminary, who will be doing the service this week. I hope you will come.”

“Not on your life,” Paul said. “We think we will try the United Church downtown. That denomination is known to be more accepting.”

“Well, we will miss you,” Rachael said. “But I do wonder if you would allow the pastor to apologize. He has had a revelation, I guess, and he really wants to atone for the way he acted to you. He wants me to come along, sort of a peacekeeper, he said. What about Saturday? Not this weekend, but the next. He should be strong enough to get out by then, and I hope to be free in the afternoon. I can leave Bobby at the bakery for a few minutes, so no sticky fingers on the paintings.”

“Old Fire and Brimstone, apologizing?” Paul said. “I wouldn’t miss that for anything. I bet it will be a ‘sorry you were offended by my actions’ type of thing.”

“Yes, we definitely will be pleased to speak with him,” John said more sedately.

They picked Mikki up at Xcuts. There wasn’t any lineup today, and Ariel said she was booked for the next two weeks solid. Any people who came in for appointments were being handled while she was working on customers.

Then they went out to see Gary, who was in a much better mood now that there were no longer crowds of girls hanging out in front of the salon, interrupting his sweeping schedule. Rachael gave him another sandwich, and learned that he had been getting bananas and rolls from the stores.

“On Friday I want to take you somewhere, at about this time,” Rachael said. “I hope you can get yourself cleaned up a bit. Maybe a shave and a haircut? Do you think Ariel would give you a trim?”

The girls then headed home, with a brief stop at Miss Lajoie for the boys to play with the dogs, while Larissa and Rachael spoke with Grandpa next door. Mostly they spoke about the video, and had to convince the old man that it was not about him, but the men who had served with them.

They only stopped in for a minute at Rachael’s where they put the groceries away and then continued on towards the Stoner house.

“Oh no,” Mikki said as they got to Larissa’s house and said goodbye to them. “That is Dad’s car. He didn’t go to Toronto today. Wait. No. He was gone when I left for school. He must have had car trouble, or something.”

“Do you think I should postpone the visit?” Rachael said nervously.

“No. He said he wanted to apologize. I’m sure it will be okay,” Mikki said as they walked up the front sidewalk to the house.

“I’m home. I have company,” Mikki shouted as she came in. “Rachael and Bobby.”

“Bobby,” a high-pitched voice squealed from the upstairs, and there was a thunder of little feet as Danni raced down the stairs and didn’t stop until she was wrapped around the embarrassed looking boy. Danni was wearing red leotards and had a white mini-skirt on that looked adorable with a pink sweater. Her hair had been professionally styled. It was still very short, of course, but it had been done in a feminine pixie-style.

“I love your hair, Danni,” Rachael said. “Very feminine.”

The little girl glowed. “Momma took me to a ladies-only hair place. It was lovely, and the girl working there were so nice. They did my hair, and even painted my fingernails.” She waved her hand at Rachael. There were only a few flecks of red still on the fingers. “Momma says I can’t get them painted again until I stop biting them. But it is so hard to remember not to.”

She then looked up and saw her parents standing in the doorway. She visibly flinched at the sight of her father, and turned her back to him. “Come on Bobby, let’s go play on the Game Station.”

As the children ran to the stairs, Bob Stoner said “At least someone gets a hug from her.” You could feel the pain in his voice.

“Come in, Rachael,” he said. “I need to apologize to you for my behavior last week. I wasn’t thinking right: on so many levels. I’m better now, and hope it will get better from here. You will always be welcome in our house.” He put emphasis on the word ‘our’. “I think you are an excellent and faithful friend to my daughter. My older daughter. And I am completely in favor of you being our ‘go-to’ for babysitting Danni when Kyle and Mikki aren’t available.”

He turned to Mikki. “Your mother and I were just talking over things, and I see no reason why your friend shouldn’t sit in on our family meeting.” He ushered us all into the living room where they sat on the fine furniture.

“Your father resigned from the brokerage today,” Mrs. Stoner said. “He is going to work for them one day a week from here, and may go to Toronto once every month or two. The money from that one day, and the fact he isn’t driving to the city, and renting his apartment there, means that we will be okay financially, while he builds up his photography business.”

“That was quick,” Mikki said.

“Yes,” Mr. Stoner took over. “They thought at first I was resigning to work for another brokerage. That would mean that I would take all, or most, of my accounts with me when I changed. When they found out that I wasn’t switching out on them, they became very accommodating. I offered most of my smaller accounts to them to reassign to junior brokers. I’m going to handle the biggest accounts on my one day a week. It will be as an independent agent, not a staffer, so I will be able to actually make half what I made in Toronto in a single day. And there are income tax benefits as well.”

“Can you stay for dinner, dear?” Mrs. Stoner asked Rachael.

“No, and we will have to leave shortly,” Rachael said. “I like to have dinner ready for Mom when she gets home. It isn’t as bad as when she worked at the café, but she is still tired when she gets home from work.”

“Let me make a call,” Mrs. Stoner said, getting up and leaving, while Mr. Stoner sat and talked with the girls about photography.

Mikki had the first idea, suggesting that he take portraits of the girls who got new hair styles at Xcuts. The girls were certain that Carly would go for it, and thought that Ariel could get one of the high school girls to sit as well. They would give the girls each an 8x10 to keep, and make an 11x14 for the salon. There might even be some actual income if the girls’ parents ordered reprints for photos for grandparents and aunts.

Then Rachael gave her idea. She noted that agricultural photography was a big business that Bob probably never considered with his city roots. One idea was to rent an airplane on a clear day, and take aerial photos of the bigger farm operations in the county. These could be sold to the farmers, who usually were quite proud of their operations.

But the other half of the idea was the real money-maker. Photos of livestock are used in farm publications to publicize the farm, and to spur sales of semen and breeding rights. She had seen a framed ad from the Holstein Journal on the wall of the farm, and it was dated five years ago. It was a younger Queenie. The Jacksons might be willing to get another taken, and when the new little calf grew to breeding stature, they would definitely want one of him.

“Rachael,” Mrs. Stoner said with a smile. “I called the bakery, and convinced your mother that I had kidnapped her children and if she wanted to see them again, she would have to come over for dinner. You three are eating with us tonight. Come on Kayla, you should help me in the kitchen.”

“I’ll come too,” Rachael said, standing.

“Sit down,” Mrs. Stoner ordered. “You are company. Besides, I heard what you were talking about. Your ideas for Bob are great. Keep them coming.”

Rachael did give a few more ideas on rural photography to Mr. Stoner, but quickly the conversation changed to what was really on his mind: Danni.

“How do you do it?” he said. “She absolutely loves you. I’ve seen her give you a hug, and it just makes my heart ache that I haven’t felt that from her … for years. Even before all this happened. I guess she knew I wanted her to be a boy, and she shut me out. I was such a fool. I can see now that she is all girl, and … and … she hates me.”

With that he started to cry, slowly at first, and then strongly. Rachael’s Ron memories told her how hard it was for a man to cry like that in public, and her heart ached for the man. Finally she put her arms out, and he fell into them, sobbing.

After a few minutes Bob tried to pull himself together, and broke out of Rachael’s embrace somewhat reluctantly.

A moment later Danni burst into the room, and then stopped abruptly when she saw her father. She started to back away.

“Danni,” Rachael said. “What did you want?”

“Momma said you were in here. She didn’t say he was here. I’ll talk to you later. I hate him.”

“Danni!” Rachael admonished. “He is your father. He loves you.”

“Well, I hate him,” she said.

“Danni, stop acting like a boy,” Rachael said. The little girl froze. “Boys get mad at people and can keep it going for years and years. But girls forgive. They still feel the hurt, but they hide it and make it get smaller and smaller until it is gone.”

“Danni,” Bob said morosely. “Danielle, my beautiful daughter.”

Danni looked at Rachael, and then at her father. For a second her face had that same stern look as he had been seeing for weeks. Then it softened, and there was a smile. She ran towards him, and leapt up into his arms. “Daddy, I love you. I really do love you. But you have to promise. Never ever cut my hair. Or make me be a boy.”

Bob was crying as hard as he ever had as he hugged his little girl. “I promise, sweetheart. I was wrong. I was bad. And if you can forgive me I will love you always. And you will always be my little girl.”

Rachael backed out of the room and went to the kitchen. “I think you two need to get into the living room with Danni and her father.”

“What has he done?” Mrs. Stoner said, dropping her spoon into the pot she was stirring, thinking the worst. Mikki followed quickly, and Rachael picked up the spoon and started stirring. Bobby would be happy. It looked as though there were going to be Sloppy Joe’s for supper.

It was a full five minutes later when the family came back into the kitchen. Danni was still in her father’s arms, still hugging him fiercely. Bob walked over to Rachael and put his arms around her. “Welcome to the Stoner family, Rachael. You are now officially my third daughter. You have done the impossible. My family is whole again.”

Mikki hugged Rachael next. “You already were my sister,” she said. “Now it is official.”

Then Mrs. Stoner gave her a hug. “Happiness just follows you around. But I thought I told you that you were not to be cooking, and I find you in here with a spoon. I’ll take over.” She reached out for the spoon but Rachael pulled it back.

“Not quite yet,” Rachael said. “All four of you need to go wash the tears out of your eyes. Unless the raccoon look is something you were aiming for.”

“Oh my,” Mrs. Stoner said, looking at her reflection in the toaster. “Mikki, you and I go up to the vanity in the ensuite. Daddy and Danni: go to the downstairs bath.”

So when the doorbell rang several minutes later, it was Rachael who opened the door to her mother.

“She said she kidnapped you,” Maria laughed. “You are working as a maid and cook for them, are you?”

“There was a family crisis,” Rachael said. “It is over now, but they are cleaning away some happy tears.”

Andrea was at the door a minute later, with Mikki right behind. After greeting Maria with a hug, Andrea took the spoon out of Rachael’s hand and told her to take her mother into the living room.

“As you say, Madam. This way, Madam,” Rachael said in a maid’s voice, causing everyone to crack up.

In the living room Bob and Danni were still locked together. The little girl just didn’t want to let go of her newly accepting father. She cuddled on his lap as he explained the situation to Maria.

“Your daughter is an angel,” Bob said finally.

“She has been an angel to Bobby and I,” Maria said, as Rachael felt embarrassment redden her face. “By the way, where is my son?”

“Upstairs playing PlayStation,” Rachael guessed. “Do you want to go up and get him, Danni?”

Danni looked hesitantly. She would be quite happy to spend the rest of her life in her father’s arms, but Bobby was her protector and friend. She finally hopped down and ran upstairs, just as Andrea started to call everyone to dinner.

The two-family dinner went splendidly, with Maria and Rachael seeing the future in watching Kyle eat five Sloppy Joe’s. He had been in his bedroom online since coming home from school, and had to be updated on the changed family situation. Maria had brought dessert from the bakery to cap off a simple, but wonderful meal.

As the Cartrights were leaving, Bob Stoner almost begged Rachael to come over on Saturday for the day. He seemed sincere in wanting to make Rachael another daughter. But Rachael had to beg off, noting they had a prior invitation to the farm.

That was the first Bobby and Maria had heard of this, so it was the topic of discussion on the short walk home. Bobby was ecstatic at the idea of a farm, and Maria had no real objection, as long as Rachael was looking after her brother. She worried a bit about her young daughter spending another full day with the boy she clearly considered a boyfriend, but when Rachael explained about Mrs. Jackson’s insistence that she come, she agreed to allow it.

That night Rachael prayed.

Dear Lord

Thank you for a wonderful day. I know I did some good today. Danni is in love with her father again, which is at it should be. And he is truly remorseful for what he did. But I am worried about Layla. Something is not right there, and I need to find it and make it right.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Another chapter quickly, to make up for the long wait for 25. I hope you will like this one as we work towards the farm visit. Kudos and comments always welcome: Dawn

THURSDAY, May 19, 2016

Gary woke up in his hidey-hole at the break of dawn. There were two withering apples looking back at him from the ledge. His ‘angel’ had told him to eat them when he was hungry, and he hadn’t been hungry since he stopped drinking. On Sunday, perhaps he would. They still looked edible, although another week in the damp tunnel would probably mean they wouldn’t be. He could go without food for a day if he needed. He certainly had during the times when alcohol consumed his life.

With nearly two weeks sober, Gary was remembering his past life. Not that that was a good thing. There was much he wished he could not remember. He almost wished that he could have stayed in that addled state he had been in last week, not remembering, but able to take pride in keeping his neighborhood clean and tidy. The gifts from the storeowners, and the sandwiches from Rachael, his ‘angel,’ had made life good. Or at least livable.

As his mind had cleared he realized that Rachael was just a schoolgirl: daughter to the pretty lady from the bakery. He could see the resemblance. The mother had more curves, but both had a similar, cute face. It had been Rachael who had delivered him from his alcoholic haze. He still couldn’t touch anything alcoholic. It tasted horrid to him. He loved pure water. Even coffee no longer had an attraction to him. That was a good thing. Even a $2-a-day coffee budget was beyond his means, at least until his next welfare check came in. Without booze to spend it on, he would have ready cash for a change. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, or not.

Two days ago he was sweeping the streets outside the bakery when a well-dressed woman had offered him a toonie. At first he wanted to refuse, and suggest that she give her money to someone who needed it more. Then he realized that this could upset the lady, who was offering the money out of the kindness of her heart. So he pocketed the coin, and blessed the woman for caring. The money still sat in his pocket. Perhaps if he ate the apples on Sunday, he could use it to buy two more for the next Sunday. He liked the idea of giving it back to the Italian lady who had been helping to feed him for the past few weeks.

Rachael, the girl who started it all, had asked if he could get cleaned up. He raked his hands through his scraggly long beard and then his equally unkempt hair. Neither had been cut for two years, and he wondered how it would feel to be clean-shaven with a haircut. He planned to ask Ariel when she came in just before noon. She claimed that she was unable to repay him for sweeping in front of her shop, let alone the painting he had done on her window.

Gary had been a finish carpenter and a machinist, years ago. As a cabinetmaker he specialized in building fine furniture and had a business with five employees once. More people that he had let down. The list was a long one. His loving wife, Heather. His handsome young son, and most especially, Cassandra.

Cassie had been the light of his life. She had been 13, the same age as Rachael, and looked a lot like the young girl. Perhaps that is why he had originally seen Rachael as an angel. The angel that Cassie now was.

Cassie had died just over 10 years ago, only a few months before her 14th birthday. He had come home from work to pick up some plans he had been working on and found her in the bathroom, sitting in a blood-stained bathtub with the knife she had used to cut her wrists laying on her lap.

He called 911, but knew it was already too late. The girl had left school during lunch, and come home … to do this. He phoned Heather next, and waited alone with the body until people started coming. The police. The EMTs. His wife: then friends and relatives.

He broke then and there. For a few weeks he pretended that it was all okay. Being strong for Heather and their son. But he started to drink. It eased the pain. He couldn’t understand why. Why had such a vibrant, pretty, intelligent girl taken a knife to her wrists? The hospital said that she had cut herself before, with some scars as much as two months earlier. How could they have missed the signs? Were there even any signs?

Two drinks after work each evening turned into four, and then six. Soon he was buying bottles at different liquor stores, sometimes claiming he was planning a party. He started drinking during the day as well. It numbed the pain.

Of course a business can’t survive when the owner is an alcoholic, and Gary now knew that he was one at that time. Sales dropped, and eventually he had to close the shop. He sold the equipment to one of his staff, who went into business himself, hiring one of the other workers.

That left Gary at home all day, and of course that resulted in him drinking even more. His wife eventually kicked him out, and he took a small room in a downtown boarding house ‘to dry out.’ Instead he just drank more and more. He went on welfare, and then after four or five years, the alcoholic haze started. He just stopped going to the boarding house, and spent a summer living on the streets. When winter came, it was a mild one, and Gary was able to stay alive bundled in blankets he pushed around in an old grocery cart. It was two years later that he found his hidey-hole, and moved in.

During the alcoholic haze, Gary had been able to forget. Sometimes. Other times it all came back to him. Sometimes he didn’t even know why he felt so sad and worthless. He just huddled himself in his hole, and didn’t come out for days. Nursing a bottle of cheap gin, keeping himself in that haze.

Then there was the day he had met Rachael. She had appeared like an angel to him, and he felt compelled to do what she said. She wouldn’t let him drink, but told him how great water tasted. She fed him sandwiches, made from the most incredible tasting bread. A sandwich from Rachael was more filling than the meals from the soup kitchens that were within walking distance.

Then he started paying back. It was in a small way, but sweeping and keeping the block clean became a mission for him. He hadn’t planned on getting anything from the shopkeepers: he only wanted to make a small part of his world a better place, even if it was just from dirt and litter. The food that eventually came was just a bonus: perhaps a sign from above that what he was doing was right.

Gary took pride in keeping the block clean. He only swept in front of the shops, but as his health recovered he walked further and further in his litter patrols, going as far as the schools. He wanted to pick up litter in front of the schools, but someone complained about the raggedy man ‘hanging around’ and a police officer stopped him and suggested that he stop two blocks short of the school during the day, and only go to the school at dusk. That worked. There had been a lot of litter around the school, and it bothered Gary.

Ariel was in early that day, and saw Gary shambling up to her as she parked her car in one of the spots behind the shop. “Hi Gary,” she said in a friendly voice.

“Hello Miss,” Gary said. He hesitated. He didn’t like asking for favors. “Rachel came by last night, and said that she wanted me to clean myself up. I wondered if …”

“Certainly, Gary,” she said. “I don’t do men’s shaves, but I could cut most of your beard away with shears. You’d have to shave the rest yourself, but I do have a straight razor I can lend you. And your hair? I’d love to do something with it.”

“Just a brush cut would be enough,” Gary said.

“I think we can do better than that,” Ariel said. “Come inside. I have an hour before my first appointment, and that should be enough time. I was wondering why I was coming in so early. It must have been for this.”

Ariel was true to her word. She had to shampoo the tangled hair four times, and never was able to get a comb through it smoothly. But she was able to cut it fairly short on the sides, and then about an inch long on the top. Gary was blessed not to have any bald spots, and actually looked good with short hair.

Then she tackled the beard. As promised, she used the shears to cut it to stubble. She then led the man into the small washroom/shower in the back, and handed him the straight razor, after stropping it to sharpness. She also told Gary to take a shower when he was done.

“I’d love to put your clothes through the washing machine for you,” she said. “But I think they might disintegrate into rags. And it would take a couple hours to wash and dry them, and you’d have nothing to wear during that time.”

“What’s this?” Gary said, pointing to a box of clippers under the sink.

“Oh, I got them from the school I took hairdresser training at. I thought maybe there would be a good one in there, but they are all broken. Maybe you could shuck them out when you are done?”

Ariel was working on her first customer when the girl let out a shriek. “There is a man in the back,” she gasped.

“Oh, that’s just Gary,” Ariel said, slipping into the back. Gary was there, and he looked really good, clean-shaven and presentable, except for the raggedy clothes. Ariel tried to think of a way that she could get some better clothes for the man. She let Gary out the back way with him carrying the box of damaged clippers, then went back to her client.

“Sorry for the interruption,” she told the girl.

“No problem. He just startled me. Is that your boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend? No. He is just a friend. He painted the front window of the shop.”

“Really, that is such an awesome painting.”

As she continued to clip and style, Ariel wondered. Gary did look handsome now that he had cleaned up. He was a bit old for her, probably in his 50s, she thought. Before he cleaned up, he had looked 70. He seems to be getting better, Ariel thought. Hopefully he can turn his life around.

* * * *

That morning Rachael went to school a bit troubled, although she didn’t know why. On the bus Mikki reported that, for the first time since Danni’s haircut, her father had not slept on the sofa. She was ecstatic about the new dynamic in her family, and was probably about as high as the day after Rachael had become her friend.

It was lunch when Rachael realized what had bothered her. She was sitting with her friends when she looked up and saw Layla sitting alone at the end of a table that had mostly Grade 6 and 7s at it. Rachael thought she saw a black cloud hovering over the girl’s head. She looked again, and it was gone.

“Look,” she told Carly and Mikki, “I have something I have to do.” She gathered her lunch and carried it over to the table Layla was sitting at.

“Mind if I sit here?” she asked.

Layla just scowled at her but Rachael sat down anyway.

“How are you doing?” Rachael said. “You left all of a sudden when we were in gym. Were you okay?”

“Yeah, I just needed to get away from … you … everything. I’ll probably get detention for it.”

“Naw, that is cool,” Rachael said. “I told Ms. Smith that you had ‘female problems,’ and she bought it.”

“Why did you do that for me?”

“We are friends, aren’t we? We had fun together at the sleepover.”

“NO! We are not friends,” Layla shouted. “I hate you. You took all my friends away. You are all doing fun things, like another movie/date night tonight, and I’m not going.”

“You could be, if you want,” Rachael said. “And I don’t hate you. I like you. I think of you as a friend, and I want to help you. Your friends didn’t leave you for me. You kinda pushed them away. And friends aren’t a one-or-another thing. You can have as many friends as you want.”

“Do you really think I could go to the movie night?” Layla said. “Who would take me after I’ve been such a bitch to every one this past week or two?”

“I know just the guy. Neal Patterson. He went out with Louise Byron last week and she is nowhere near as pretty as you. But her Dad hit the roof over his little girl dating at 13, and said she can’t go again. He wasn’t planning on going, but I think we can squeeze the two of you in.”

“Neal the Nerd,” Layla scoffed. “Like I would consider going out with him.”

“Neal the boy who is sitting at a table with maybe 20 friends, including Carly and Becca, while you are sitting alone at a table with me,” Rachael replied to the slur. “You should check him out. Did you know he is a gifted artist? He drew a sketch of Louise that looked like one of Mikki’s photos. You should take a look at his sketchbook. He might be a famous artist one day.”

“Really? Hmmm. You know, he really isn’t that bad looking, is he?”

“Well, you never know what a boy looks like until into high school,” Rachael said. “But Neal could turn out to be a real hottie. And if you don’t hit it off, there is no real loss. It isn’t like you are marrying him. You aren’t even going steady. Just going to watch a movie with him.”

“Well, okay I guess. What do I do?”

“Just follow me,” Rachael said. They walked back to the group, and George, the boy sitting between Carly and Neal was pulled from his seat. She pushed Layla into his spot. “Neal,” she said. “I was telling Layla about your drawings and she didn’t believe how good you are. I made her a bet. If she decides your work is good, she will go to movie night with you. Are you game?”

Neal gulped. Layla was one of the prettier girls in the class, and a date with her was something he had considered impossible. Now she was sitting next to him. He quickly pulled his sketchbook from his backpack and opened it.

Rachael walked away with George, thanking him for giving up his seat. As she left, she just happened to see Carly put her hand on top of Layla’s and give it a squeeze. Layla turned and looked at her for a second, and smiled.

Rachael was sitting at the other end of the table next to Robert when 10 minutes later Layla shouted her name. Then a toonie came sliding down the table: the fee for Neal and Layla to attend the movie night.

When classes ended, the gang all headed home. They were amazed when they stopped to give Gary his sandwich. He was clean-shaved and looked much younger. “Yummy,” Larissa proclaimed. She had modeled in France with older men on occasion, so wasn’t as age-sensitive as the other two. There was a quick stop to see Grandpa and some dogs. When they left, Rachael got home and made some spaghetti from Momma DaSliva’s sauce, and had it ready when her Mom got home. She ate a quick salad while the sauce was cooking, but had to leave as soon as Maria walked in the door to get to the library on time. Bobby had decided he didn’t want to go to movie night tonight.

When she got there she was surprised to see that Carly was leading the gang in setting up. The movie was three hours long, and that meant a 6:45 start. They started late, but Heather the librarian said they could run a bit long, if they cleaned up.

Robert was there at 6:40, looking tired. “I just finished milking 30 cows at JJs farm,” he said. “Mom will pick us up at 10.” Rachael wondered if she was going to get any clues as to why Mrs. Jackson was so insistent on her coming to the farm on Saturday.

The movie went well. Rachael enjoyed it far more than last week, with Robert’s muscular shoulder to lean against. She amazed herself at how different the girl feelings going through her body were, compared to her former male life. Mark and Larissa were better behaved. The fact that the movie was about the D-Day liberation of her country held Larissa’s attention tightly.

Halfway through the movie Rachael noted that Robert was getting fidgety. “What’s wrong, honey,” she whispered.

“I … I dunno. I wish I knew the rules about all this stuff. Peter says girls just like to be kissed, and to do it if you want, but it kinda feels rude.”

“It would be rude, if the girl didn’t want it. The safe way is just to ask if she wants to.”

They sat another few minutes, then Robert asked: “Would you like to kiss, Rachael?”

“I would love it,” she said.

“I don’t know how, exactly,” he said.

“Either do I. Let’s just try,” Rachael said, turning her head up to the taller boy.

“Wow. That was incredible,” Robert gasped. “Your lips … they are so soft. I … I really liked it.”

“So did I,” Rachael said. And she did, all eight times during the rest of the movie.

They cleaned up, and found that Heather had taken a seat to watch the end of the movie. The kids immediately went into action, and had the place spotless at 10:15. Everyone headed downstairs, where there a line of parent’s cars went down the block. Robert pointed to his Mom’s and walked towards it, holding Rachael’s hand.

Mrs. Jackson smiled as they climbed into the back seat. She turned around and looked at her son. “I see you are starting to wear lipstick, Robbie,” she teased.

That led to a hurried attempt to clean the lipstick off of Robert’s face, which was also red with embarrassment. The result was that the car was at Rachael’s house without her having a chance to find out about Saturday. She invited them in, but Mrs. Jackson said that she was in a hurry to get home.

Bobby had already gone to bed, without any Harry Potter, although Maria said she had read to him from his library books. She was still packing, which reminded Rachael she had a lot to do. But since it was weeks away, the move didn’t bother her.

She finished her science homework. The other subjects were all using the project, and French was always done in class. Then she prayed.

Dear Lord

Thank you for another good day. I think Layla was in danger, and I hope we pulled her back. She did seem really friendly with Neal after the movie tonight, so maybe she will be back with us. And Gary! He cleaned up really well. I think I might be able to get him a job tomorrow. Bless us all, and everyone else too.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Another one for you. Enjoy: Dawn

FRIDAY, May 20, 2016

When Carly and Becca got on the bus that morning Layla was with them, cheerfully interacting with her former best friends. But as the other girls went to the back of the bus, Layla veered off and sat down next to Rachael.

“I hope Mikki won’t mind me sitting here just this once,” Layla said. “I want to thank you for yesterday. I felt so terrible, all alone and sad. And it was the one person who I thought I hated who came to me, who reached out and made everything good again.”

“That’s all right,” Rachael said, deflecting compliments as she was prone to do. “I’m just glad you are still with us.”

Layla stared at her. “You mean … you knew? That I was thinking of doing something terrible?”

“But you didn’t. That is the important thing.”

Layla stared again, and then flung her arms around Rachael. “I love you. I thought I hated you, but I really love you. Please, please be my friend.”

“I already am. And please let me go. People will start to talk.”

Layla laughed, and it warmed Rachael to hear it. “No. And Neal is my guy now. Thanks to you for that, too. He is so special. I’ve had other boyfriends before, but none of them made me feel like Neal does. I don’t know why I thought he was a nerd. He is so cool. He knows so much. During the movie he explained things to me, and I understand so much better now. I used to hate history. I thought it was boring. But that movie, and Neal’s explanations, made it all so interesting.”

“Well, you should tell that to Mr. Churchill. He will be happy to have another new recruit to his army of History Zombies.”

Layla laughed again. “You are so much fun Rachael. Thank you again.”

In the gym that morning for P.E. Layla and Becca again worked with Rachael on skills during the first part of the period while Ms. Smith worked with the other students. Layla was surprised at how much Becca had improved in the last class, while she was having her snit. So she doubled her efforts, soon was making progress.

In the game part of the class, the girl who was captain tried to keep only the best players on the court, and of course that included Rachael. But Rachael protested, and made sure that Becca and Layla got court time, often when she was with them. The team fell back each time, but by smaller and smaller amounts as the girls got the hang of playing defense.

And for the last two minutes of the game the top players were all fresh, while their opponents were lagging and tired. The result was a 10-0 run to end the game, and Becca and Layla were right in the middle of the victory celebrations. They had finally been on a winning side, and felt that they had contributed. Rachael praising their efforts through the game had helped immensely, and after the girls showered and walked to lunch, Layla walked with Rachael and the other girls.

“That was fun,” she said. “I used to hate P.E. I used to hate all the subjects at school. My best subject was lunch. Now I like History, and I like P.E. What’s next?”

“How about French?” Rachael suggested. “I saw you struggling a bit this morning. You should try to sit next to Larissa. She can really help you.”

“Do you think she would? I mean, when I was … down … last week, I said some pretty terrible things about her. About her height, and her being foreign.”

“Well, you could apologize. And there is nothing wrong with people from other countries coming to Canada. All of us were immigrants once, even the First Nation’s people: although they didn’t chase anyone else off the land. Immigrants are what make Canada great. In the United States they have what they call the ‘Melting Pot’ where everyone has to become an ‘American.’ In Canada we have ‘Multiculturalism’ where each group can maintain their history and culture while adding to the Canadian mosaic.”

“That is cool. My last name is Patrelle. That must be French too. I really should learn the language.”

“Yeah. When you finish high school you might want to go to France to visit. If you can speak the language you will fit in better there. You might even meet some Patrelle’s … distant relatives.”

“Oh, that would be so cool. I have to talk to Larissa. I don’t like apologizing, but I think I need to.”

“She is cool. I’m sure she will accept your apology gracefully. And if you become better friends, then she might invite you to her house. Everyone there speaks French.”

“Oh, is that why she is so good at it, then?”

“No silly. French is her first language. She had to learn English the way we are learning French,” Rachael said.

“But her English is so good. I mean you can tell she has an accent, but we can understand everything she says. I bet if we had to talk French for real, French people would laugh at us.”

“Maybe. But a second language is important. Tony DaSilva also has an accent, but his language was Italian.”

“And his English is good too,” Layla noted. “I used to think foreigners were dumb, but I guess really they must be smart, to be able to speak in two languages.”

Rachael smiled. “I think you are getting it. Now I have to go around and see what movie people want next Thursday. Are Neal and you coming?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. What are the choices?”

“Sound of Music, or West Side Story. Music is a lighter, fun piece, and Story is darker, about gangs in New York.”

“Oh, I vote for Sound of Music.”

So did the majority of the other students that Rachael polled. She would reserve that DVD at the library on the way home.

After lunch was the three-hour project block, but as it was Friday, they would be playing the Math movie game. For the next three hours, in the three different classrooms the entire class had more fun doing math than they had in their lives. Rachael looked over at Layla in her group at one point, and saw her animatedly working out a budget with her partners. Make that three subjects she now likes, Rachael thought.

On the way home, they picked up Gary, and he accompanied them to Grandpa’s. Gary wanted to speak to Grandpa, and went in to thank him for his service. Gary’s grandfather had served for the last two years of WWII.

While they were chatting, Rachael used Grandpa’s telephone in the kitchen. She realized that soon this would be her home phone number. She marveled at the old-fashioned phone, with its dial. Then she did a double-take. Ron had first used a telephone with no dial, in the 1950s. You picked up the phone and when an operator answered you said something like 9-ring-3 and were connected. Now his new Rachael persona was so strong that she found the dial phone, a Princess model from the 1970s, strange-looking.

She dialed a number from a slip of paper in her purse.

“Steve Winslow here. How can I help you?”

“Oh, Steve. I’m glad you are in. This is Rachael Cartright. You know. Maria’s daughter.”

“Oh Rachael,” there was a smile in the formerly formal voice. “You aren’t by any chance calling to tell me your mother wants another date, are you?”

“Sorry Steve. But I wonder if you could help me. Remember that yard sale you had a couple weeks ago. You had some men’s clothes for sell. Did you sell them?”

“A few. Not many men shop at yard sales. Most of them are still in my garage. Why?”

“Would you like to donate some of them? I know someone who is applying for a job, and he really doesn’t have any good clothes.”

“They aren’t really good clothes,” Steve said. “Goodwill didn’t even want them.”

“Believe me Steve,” Rachael said. “They will be better than what he has on now. Will you be there for a while? We can be there in 10 minutes.”

Nearly 10 minutes later the gang were outside Steve’s house. Mikki and Larissa went on, taking the boys with them. Marc and Bobby were going to play at Larissa’s home. Rachael and Gary walked up to the door and rang the bell.

Gary flinched when he first saw Steve, who was in uniform. “Policeman,” he whispered.

“It’s all right,” Rachael said. “Steve is cool.”

Steve looked at Gary for a moment, trying to recognize him. Soon his police training broke through, and he said: “Gary Sovey. You’ve cleaned up your act a bit.”

“You know each other,” Rachael noted. “Gary is going to apply for a job today, and these are his only clothes. I know your stuff will be too big for him, but they will be better than this. And better smelling. I want to pick out a few things for him, and then I’ll take him home so he can shower before he puts them on.”

“No!” Steve said abruptly. “You will not take this man into your house. He … he can shower here. And I will drive you to wherever this interview is.”

“It’s only over at the church.” Rachael said. “We can walk.”

“Then I will walk with you,” Steve said in his authoritative police voice.

For the next 15 minutes Steve took Gary into his house and showed him the shower. He came back to find Rachael going through the clothes. Steve and Gary were about the same height, with Steve perhaps an inch or two taller. But Gary was at least 50 pounds lighter.

“Can he take two sets?” Rachael asked. “I’d really like to see him ditch those old rags.”

“I already have,” Steve said, holding up a black trash bag. “Take as many as you like. I just want to get rid of them.”

Most of the shirts were pale blue, and you could see the odd hole or stitching where police badges had been removed. There were also dress trousers with a red and yellow stripe down the seam. But Rachael was more interested in the three pairs of jeans. She took those, and the best five of the shirts.

“What about a belt?” she wondered. There was one on the pile of clothes, but it would be way too big for Gary. Steve wrinkled his nose as he opened the trash bag, and fished out Gary’s old belt. When he laid it down next to the good belt, you could see that the latter was a half-foot too long. Steve took out a knife and cut four or five inches off the good belt, and then used the point to carve out three or four additional belt holes. The two belts were now similar in size.

“Let me take these up to Gary,” Steve said. “He should be clean now. I kinda want to wash my hands too, after handling those rags.” He carried the belt, one pair of jeans, and a shirt into the house.

It was only a minute or two later that the men returned. Gary didn’t look too bad. His clothes were ill-fitting, but they were clean and for the first time since she met him Gary smelled normal. The three walked over to the church, where they found the deacon, vainly trying to start the old church lawnmower.

“This piece of … scrap … won’t start,” he said.

“Can I try?” Gary asked.

“Go for it,” the deacon said. “I’m going home to get my lawnmower. I know it works.” With that he walked away.

Gary looked over the lawnmower. Tools had been his trade, and he could make almost anything work. He flipped the machine on its side, checking to make sure that no gas was leaking. As he thought, the blade needed sharpening, and it looked like no one had ever cleaned the machine. It was clogged with grass. The blade would have to wait, but he could clear the old grass away.

Gary had been a stickler for safety when he had his own shop, and he wasn’t about to clear the dried grass with a live lawnmower. He reached to loosen the spark plug and immediately knew what the problem was. The spark plug was loose, so of course the mower wouldn’t turn over. He took a stick to scrape off most of the dried grass.

“I’m going to leave you two here, and go see the new pastor,” Rachael announced, turning and walking towards the church.

Steve was torn. He didn’t trust Gary, but felt a responsibility to the girl. “Wait, I will come with you,” he said. There wasn’t anything but junk in the shed, and it wasn’t like Gary would try to steal anything.

Rachael and Steve entered the church together, and while still in the lobby they could hear a strong, feminine voice from the pulpit. Rev. McFarland was practicing her Sunday sermon. The pair stopped at the entrance from the lobby into the church and listened. Rachael noticed that the sun was having its affect, creating a halo around the minister’s head. She heard a whisper from the policeman: “She’s beautiful.”

Finally she noticed she had an audience, and stopped. “Hello there. Rachael and … I don’t believe we have met, officer.”

“This is Constable Steve Winslow, Helen,” Rachael did the introductions. “Reverend Helen McFarland, Steve. He is not here on official business. He just accompanied me with a man I think could become church caretaker.” Just then there was the roar of a lawnmower starting, sputtering once or twice, and then starting full power. “And I think that is him.”

“Well we certainly need a caretaker,” Helen said. “The church is a mess. I’ve had to sweep the floors myself this morning, and I’m not good at sweeping.”

“Well, Gary is,” Rachael said. “And it sounds like he is good with lawnmowers, too.”

Rachael looked at Steve, and saw that he was staring at the young minister, who was getting nervous at his attention.

“Steve,” Rachael said. No reaction. “Steve,” she repeated louder and he finally looked away from Helen. “Why don’t you go out and check on Gary. Helen and I would like to pray.”

He mumbled in agreement, and shuffled away. Once he was out of hearing range, Helen said: “Thanks. That was bothering me. I know I’m not the prettiest woman in the world, but staring is quite rude, you know.”

“I think he likes you,” Rachael said.

Helen laughed. “Not likely. I’ve only been asked out once in my life. It was in college, and he was a good-looking member of the swim team. When he took me to the party I found out that it had been a bet, and the other members of the team laughed at me as they paid up. It nearly broke my heart. That’s when I switched majors from Psychology to Seminary. At least the men there don’t stare so rudely.”

“No, I think he was taken by you,” Rachael said. “When we came in, the sun was just so, and it made a halo around you.”

“I noticed that,” she said. “Once we get a caretaker I want to get that covered up. It is pretty annoying to have the sun in your eyes when speaking.”

“You could do that,” Rachael said. “Or you could make use of it. Now that you know what it does, you could just move to another position for most of the sermon. But when there is a point you really want to emphasize, you could move into the sun. The halo would amplify your point. Then move away when you go on to something else.”

“That might work,” the Reverend mused. “I’ll try it Sunday. Although I guess it only works if the sun is shining. But back to … that man. Even if he thought I was pretty with the sun in my hair, he certainly stared at me long enough to see what I really look like.”

“And I still think he liked what he saw,” Rachael said. “Maybe he sees what is inside, and not just the outside. Trust me, he will ask you out. I hope you will go out with him. He dated my Mom, but they didn’t hit it off.”

“Your Mom?” Helen said. “She’s gorgeous. If he can get a girl like her, why would he want a plain-Jane like me?”

“He’s a good guy,” Rachael said. “If he asks you out, it will be because he likes you.”

Helen wanted to change the topic. “You said you wanted to pray.”

“Yes I did,” she moved to a front pew, looking up at the cross on the wall. Helen sat beside her. After a second, the young pastor took her hand.

Helen felt completely different from any other time she had prayed. It seemed she was being carried up into the sky, and was soon on a cloud looking at a marble-walled castle with a golden gate and fence. Is this … she wondered?

Then she saw her late mother, on the other side of the fence: the one person in her life who had unconditionally loved her. “My darling girl,” she said. Helen noticed that her mother seemed young-looking, younger than she was.

“Momma,” she said. “I have missed you so much.”

“And I have missed you too, but it is too soon for you to be here. You have a life to live, a man who loves you to find, and children to raise,” she glimpsed upwards. “He wants you to have children.”

“Oh my.” Helen gulped. “The policeman? Is he the one?”

“He could be. He is a good man, and would be a good father. But the decision is yours. If not him, then another.”

“Yeah, like another one will come around. I haven’t exactly been asked out much lately,” Helen said. “Rachael said he thinks I am pretty.”

“You are pretty,” he mother said. “It’s just that not everyone can see deeply enough to see the real you. He can. We may have helped a little up here, but he really does think you are something special. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I will take all the help I can get. I …” Helen felt herself being pulled back. “Momma. I have to go. I love you. I always loved you.”

Helen could no longer see the castle, or the gates, but she could hear her mother’s voice. “And I always will love you, my sweet.”

Rachael had just let go of the reverend’s hand, after a long mid-day prayer. She turned and looked at Helen, who blinked and coughed. “I … I have a lot to think about. I think I was … up there.” She got up and left the church for her office at the back.

Rachael went outside. The mowing had stopped, and Steve was watching Gary run an old trimmer that he had found in the garage. “That man is amazing,” Steve said. “He took that old trimmer out of the mess in the shed and in two minutes he had it running, using a cord from another trimmer.”

Just then Deacon Maclean returned, with a newer lawnmower in his trunk. He looked amazed as he saw the immaculate looking lawn as Gary continued trimming.

“He finished it?” the deacon said.

“Almost. Just that one more pass by the flower beds,” Steve said.

“Well he certainly did a fine job. Where did he find the trimmer?”

“He pulled it out of the shed. A couple minutes and some parts from another trimmer, and he had it running. The man is a wonder with tools,” Steve said.

“Well, I hope he will take the job. It is only minimum wage and we can only afford eight hours a week. That turns most people off.”

“What is the shed?” Rachael asked. “It seems to be crammed with stuff.”

“Yes, that building was used until the 1930s for parishioners who brought buggies to church. The horses and buggies were tended to in there during the service. It was especially well-used in winter or when it rained. The building sat idle until the 70s, when one of my predecessors decided to allow church members to bring in their surplus tools. More than a few widows had their husband’s collection brought in. Until the 90s our caretaker would clean and fix up the old tools, and they would be sold when the church ladies had a bake sale. But my last caretaker wasn’t so handy and he was only given 24 hours a week. So the shed just filled up.”

“You could let Gary clean up the tools and sell them, splitting the money with the church,” Rachael suggested. “That way both he and the church would make a little money.”

“That’s a good idea,” Deacon Maclean said. “I need all the money I can get to fix that roof. It has to be done this fall or next year. If it is next year we will all have to pray for a mild winter.”

Gary came back, carrying the trimmer. “There is more I need to do,” he announced. “I want to get around the sidewalks, and then I will have to sweep the sidewalks. Is there a lot to do inside?”

“Neverending, neverending,” the deacon said. “The job is minimum wage for eight hours a week. Rachael here suggested that you might want to fix up some of the tools in the shed. If you do, and sell them, the church will split the money with you.”

“No, no, no,” Gary said. “I don’t want money. I just want to make God’s house look good. No matter how many hours a week it will take.”

“No Gary,” Rachael said. “You have to take the salary at least. You will need to buy food at least. If you have a job, you can’t take charity.”

“I would be able to buy bread and fruit from my stores,” Gary suggested. That idea pleased him.

Rachael had an idea. “Would there be any space in the shed for a bed? Gary is kinda homeless right now, and if things could be moved around to make room for a bed, and maybe a fridge.”

“I don’t know,” the deacon hesitated. “Liability issues. I guess I could look into it.”

“You know,” Steve suggested. “Why don’t you increase his hours to 12 a week, and then rent him space in the shed at a rent to match the extra four hours of pay. It would come out even in the end.”

“And I am worried that eight hours is not enough for all that needs to be done,” the deacon said. “He could go into the church for a washroom. One of the pastors in the 80s had a shower put in so he could be clean before preaching. It doesn’t work right now, but …”

“I will fix it,” Gary said.

“Welcome to our church,” the deacon said. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll show you around, and what duties you have. You will have to work out a schedule which things to do on which week, because even with 12 hours you won’t be able to do everything.”

“I will do what is needed,” Gary said as he and the deacon headed into the church.

“Mission accomplished,” Steve said, as he and Rachael walked back towards their homes.

“Maybe. We got Gary a job. You still don’t trust him, do you?”

“You know, I think I do. He told me he has stopped drinking, and that he is trying to turn his life around. I’m a pretty good judge of character, and I think he will be a good worker for the deacon.

“What about the reverend?” Rachael said. “You seemed to be quite taken by her.”

“Oh, she probably has a boyfriend, or is at least dating,” Steve said morosely. “She wouldn’t be interested in me. Would she?”

“I think she would,” Rachael said. “She isn’t seeing anyone at the moment. I happen to know that. You should ask her out.”

“I think I will,” Steve said as they neared his house. “I think I will come to her service on Sunday too. I am on nights now.”

“Come with us,” Rachael said. “We pass here about 7:50. If you are ready, we will stop in.”

“Great. See you on Sunday.”

Rachael made it home before Maria, but just barely. She called Larissa and had Bobby sent home, and he was walking down the street when he saw his mother walking in from the other direction. They entered the house at the same time.

“Nothing special for dinner, I’m afraid,” Rachael said. “I’ve got some hamburger going for Sloppy Joe’s. We can use the rest of the spaghetti sauce from last night, and there are buns in the fridge to use up.”

“Sloppy Joe’s,” Bobby said, doing a little dance that made both Maria and Rachael smile.

“Yes, and if you want some you have to go change out of your school clothes,” Rachael said. “Put the shirt you had on yesterday back on. It already has spaghetti stains. And put the other one up nicely, not on the floor. You can wear it to the farm tomorrow, with a pair of jeans.”

“The farm, the farm,” the boy chanted as he skipped up the stairs.

“Oh no,” Maria said, reading a letter she had brought into the house when she entered. “It’s the landlord.”

“What’s he want?” Rachael said.

“Oh. It is actually good news. He has agreed to pay us the security deposit. We have already paid this months rent, so he says we don’t have to pay next month’s. And he says that if we decide to move out at the end of the month he will pay us another half-month rent. Plus get the last month paid for in cash. Oh honey, we will be rich.”

“Well, not rich, but at least you can put some money away for emergencies,” Rachael said. “Can we get out by the end of the month? Bobby and I will be away tomorrow, and Sunday we have Grandpa coming over. You know, that could be his last visit here. We could start doing Sunday dinner at his house, sort of to get used to it.”

“I think it is doable. Most of the furniture came with the house. So it is only our clothes and the kitchen stuff that we will take: a couple lamps, and Bobby’s bed. We bought that new after he stopped wetting.”

“Do you think that the church is renting it for Helen? When she was looking at it, she said she wanted to make Bobby’s room her office, so she won’t mind no bed.”

“I do think it is the church,” Maria said. “Landlords hate to pay rent back, and a bonus almost never happens. I bet he has an offer from the church conditional on it being ready at the end of the month.”

After a meal and a good long Harry Potter reading with Bobby (who was so excited about the farm that he had trouble settling down) Rachael went to the washroom to clean up for bed. She discovered a few dots of red in her panties, and suddenly realized that she was nearly a month from when she had taken over this body from old Rachael.

She thought back into the old Rachael memories. She had her first period about a year and a half earlier, and more than two thirds of them had been severe, with heavy cramping. It was no accident that she had planned her suicide right after a period. Perfect timing, Rachael thought. An important, possibly, trip to the farm tomorrow and she would be experiencing this part of womanhood for the first time.

Eventually she was at the edge of her own bed.

Dear Lord

Thanks for another perfect day. Please let Steve and Helen become a couple. I think they would be so cute together. Let Gary do well at his new job. He could be an asset to the church, if they let him. I don’t know what the shops on his block will do now, without him cleaning up for them. The schoolyards have never looked so tidy since he started to pick up the litter. And bless you for saving Layla. She is one of the gang again, and she seems so happy now.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

This took a while, and I think I may need a break after this one. So don’t go looking for a story a day for a while: Dawn

SATURDAY, May 21, 2016

Rachael work up early, and discovered that her period had, in fact, started. She felt no cramps or nausea though, but had experienced a healthy flow the night before. She changed the pad, and decided to use a tampon for the visit to the farm. Luckily, old Rachael memories helped her with inserting it.

Robert and Peter arrived at 8:30 and Bobby got to sit in the front, to his delight, as Robert and Rachael took the back seat. Rachael had a paper bag containing biscuits still warm from the oven, and all of her guys nibbled on one as they made the short drive out to the farm.

“Mom says I’m supposed to drop you at the house,” Robert said. “I’ll take Bobby back to the barn to see the horses. Come get us when you are done with whatever Mom wants.”

“Okay.” Rachael got out of the car and took two of the biscuits, with the rest going out to the men in the barns.

She tapped on the kitchen door, where she expected to see Mrs. Jackson, who was there with another woman.

“Come in Rachael,” Mrs. Jackson said.

The other woman, who looked about 20, turned around with rage in her eyes. They immediately changed to a stunned look, and finally she broke out laughing. “That is Rachael?” she said, as if it was the most hilarious thing ever.

“Rachael is a school friend of Robbie’s,” Mrs. Jackson said. “Rachael, this is Ruby, the woman who was dating JJ rather seriously … at least until last weekend.

Ruby got a strange look on her face. “Oh my. JJ?” she said. “I’ve been so mean to him this week. How can I make him forgive me?”

Rachael was more than a little confused. She was asked to come to the farm for some emergency, and all that had happened was that people were laughing at her. She realized that she was still holding the biscuits, and handed one to each of the women. “I made biscuits,” she said, wondering when this would all be cleared up.

Mrs. Jackson took the first bite, as Ruby was still laughing too hard. “Oh my goodness, these are wonderful. Still warm from the oven,” Mrs. Jackson said. “Did you get up early to bake?”

“Well, I was up early anyhow,” Rachael said. “And I know the guys like biscuits, so I made a quick batch.”

“Did you send some of these out for JJ?” Ruby asked. “They are great.”

“I sent the rest of the batch out with Robert. I suspect that JJ will get one of them or a couple.”

“And he will be raving about the great biscuits that Rachael makes,” Ruby said, starting to laugh all over again. Now Mrs. Jackson was also laughing.

“What is all this about?” Rachael said. It was beginning to get a little annoying.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Jackson said, as Ruby continued to laugh. “Last week you were out here and really impressed JJ, both with the horse, and especially with Queenie. So apparently he started telling Ruby about you. But he didn’t mention your age.”

“I thought you were older,” Ruby finally stopped laughing enough to say. “I thought he was impressed by another woman, as opposed to a young girl. I mean, when he described what you had done with Queenie, I started thinking of a woman older than him by a few years. Then he raves about you riding Blackie bareback, when the boys couldn’t even saddle him. He raved about the cookies you brought last week. And he raves that you would be the perfect farmer’s wife one day. Then he goes on how you saved Archie, and made him want to partner up with JJ. I guess that is when the overload hit my brain, and I stopped thinking. I stormed out of the house, jealous as one can be.”

“And she refused to talk to JJ, or answer his texts, for the entire week,” Mrs. Jackson said. “I figured it out on Monday, and that’s why I wanted to get you out here. It was a lot harder to get Ruby here. I had to promise her that she wouldn’t see JJ. I knew if she met you, she would realize that she has nothing to be jealous about.”

“Except your baking,” Ruby said with a smile. “You have to show me how you make these. They melt in your mouth.”

“I want that lesson too,” Mrs. Jackson said. “In fact, we can had a baking/cooking class this morning. Rachael wanted to know how to make Keri Peters old chickens from next door tender.

“Well, just for the record Robert is the Jackson boy I am interested in,” Rachael said. “Not that JJ isn’t a nice man, but I am looking more for a boy my age.”

“It was so cute,” Mrs. Jackson said. “They had a first date on Thursday, and Robert came home with lipstick on his face.” Rachael could feel her face reddening.

“On a first date?” Ruby asked. “I think it took three dates before I got JJ to kiss me.”

“Well, we have been having lunch together for a few weeks now,” Rachael said in her defense.

“Well, let’s get baking then,” Ruby said. “I want to learn how to make your peanut butter cookies too.”

“We’ll start with cooking first,” Mrs. Jackson said. “I got two chickens from Keri yesterday. The secret is the marinade, and if we start it now, it should be just about ready for lunch at 1. The ingredients we need are …”

The women spent the morning in the kitchen, laughing and cooking and bonding and baking. Meanwhile, out in the barns Bobby was having the time of his life. He got a chance to ride Lisa’s pony around the corral, and watched as Robert saddled up Blackie and put him through his paces. The big horse seemed scary to Bobby, but he loved riding the little pony. After their rides, the two groomed the animals, and Robert gave Bobby his first lessons in husbandry as he explained about the various elements of a horse.

After an hour Robert took the boy out to the barn, when he was introduced to Queenie, who was still nursing the baby bull. Bobby found it odd that a ‘baby’ could weigh over 100 pounds, and when Robert stood next to Queenie, his head didn’t come as high as her shoulder.

They then went out back to a pond on the property. Dairy cattle require enormous amounts of water, and the pond was a backup in case mechanical systems elsewhere failed. But it was a fine place for Robert to show Bobby how to skip a stone as the two boys just talked about everything they could think of.

They finally came back to the farmhouse after the noon milking, which was the time that Mrs. Jackson had decreed that the no-men rule would end. The kitchen smelled wonderful and when Bobby saw Rachael in her apron, he started to run towards her.”

“Freeze,” Rachael shouted at the boy, who skidded to a halt, confused.

“Boots off,” Rachael said. “We don’t want the barnyard in the kitchen, do we?”

Bobby looked up at Robert, who shook his head in agreement as he pulled his boots off. Bobby followed, taking his little black rubber Wellingtons off and setting them neatly next to Robert’s. He then ran in his stocking feet over to hug Rachael, as Robert did the same to his mother.

“What smells so wonderful?” Robert asked his mother.

“We have been busy. Ruby made Rachael’s biscuits and I made her cookies. Apparently the recipe is from a cookbook I have had for years, Fanny Farmer’s, but I had never tried it. And there is a chicken in the oven, baking for lunch.”

“Cookies?” Bobby heard only the one word. “Peanut butter cookies, like Rachael makes.”

“The same,” Rachael said. “Although I think these might even be better, because they are made with butter from Queenie.”

“I saw Queenie, and her baby,” Bobbie recounted. “And Blackie and the pony, and the dogs, and the kitties, but the kitties won’t let you pet them. Then Robert showed me how they milk the cows. Most of them were hooked up to a machine with four things that connected to each of the cows … ?”

“Teats,” Robert prompted.

“Yeah, teats. But there was one cow that Robert milked with his hands, and he let me try, but I wasn’t very good. He sprayed a bit of milk in my mouth. It was kinda good, but not cold.”

“It sounds like you learned a lot,” Rachael said.

“Yeah. Did you know that girl cows are called heifers until they have a baby? Little tiny cows are called calves, and boy cows are called steers, if they have their boy parts taken off. But your boy cow isn’t getting his parts taken off, so he will grow up to be a bull.”

“It sounds like you had a busy day,” Mrs. Jackson said. “Do you like the farm?”

“I love the farm,” Bobby enthused. “Best place ever!”

“Well, you boys should go wash up for lunch. The men will be in soon, and washroom space gets a little crowded. Robert led Bobbie off to clean up.

“I think Robert is really taken with Bobby,” Mrs. Jackson said. “He was always the little brother, but never really got to be a big brother. He is great with Lisa, but she is a girl, and they have different interests. He reads to her, and will babysit if I need it, but I could see that Robbie really enjoyed looking after Bobby.”

Just then the rest of the crew arrived for lunch. The twins and Frank headed to the washroom. JJ saw Ruby standing there, and just froze. Three seconds later the girl ran over to him, launching herself at him with kisses and a hug.

“I am so stupid, JJ,” she cried. “I don’t know why you put up with me.”

“I put up with you because I love you. I assume you are not mad at me anymore,” the young man said.

“No, and I shouldn’t have been. It was so stupid. I will tell you at lunch, so everyone can laugh at me all at once.”

JJ hurried off to wash up, and was back a few minutes later as the family sat down at the table. Rachael asked if she could say grace, and the request was granted, even though the Jacksons were not used to the habit.

“Dear Lord, thank you for this wonderful food we are about to partake,” she said. “And thank you for giving us such fine cattle that allow this to be one of the best dairy farms in the county. And we pray that JJ and Archie will succeed in making the other farm just as prosperous. We pray that JJ and Ruby will be together for a long, long time, perhaps beating the record that Mr. and Mrs. Jackson have made. Amen.”

“That was beautiful, dear,” Mrs. Jackson said. “I think a prayer before every meal is a habit that we should have for every meal.”

“Just as long as they are short ones, so the food doesn’t get cold,” Steve said, only half joking.

“I’ll teach Lisa a prayer for supper,” Rachael said, “and then the rest of you can take turns. If a little eight-year-old can do it, surely you big strong men can.”

By this time the meal was well underway, with the fried chicken a hit with everyone, and when the biscuits were served, it was noted that Ruby had made them, to the surprise of all.

“These are better than mammas. Almost as good as the ones Rachael brought this morning,” Peter noted.

“I’ll have you know my biscuits are fine,” Mrs. Jackson retorted. “And they will be better in the future, thanks to the tips that Rachael gave us this morning.”

“She also gave us her cookie recipe,” Ruby noted. “That will be dessert.”

“You gave away your cookie recipe?” Bobby said, almost in tears. “I liked those cookies.”

“Oh honey,” Rachael said. “I didn’t give away the recipe. I shared it. I can still make you cookies. In fact, I think they will be better, because Mrs. Jackson’s butter is better than what I used. Recipes are like love. When you give it away, you don’t loose it, it just gets bigger and better.”

“Oh that is so sweet,” Ruby said. “Now I guess it is my time to entertain you with the story of my foolishness of the last week.”

As predicted, all the men were laughing as she explained about her snit of the past week. She ended up by apologizing about being so silly.

“You weren’t silly,” JJ insisted. “You didn’t meet Rachael. And by the things she did, and does, you easily could imagine her several years older. But let me promise you, right now. You never, ever need to worry about me being attracted to another woman. You are the only one for me. Why would I look at another one, when I already have the best?”

All the women said ‘Awww,’ to this, and Ruby jumped up and gave JJ another huge hug, and a deep kiss, causing Steve to suggest that the two ‘get a room.’

“So what’s on after lunch,” Robert asked.

“If you could keep an eye on Bobby for a bit more, I’d appreciate it. I want to go over to Archie’s farm and check out his herd.”

“They’ll be in the fields until after 3,” JJ said. “Why don’t you take Blackie out for a ride. Robbie can ride my horse.”

“I’d like a ride too,” Ruby said. “Why doesn’t Robbie take one of the twin’s horses and I’ll take the other, and you can join us. Bobby will be on the pony, I assume.”

So that was the plan, and soon they were all in the barn. Blackie seemed to know that Rachael was there, and let out a whinny of delight as she walked into the barn. Rachael noted that there was now a barrel of apples just inside the door, and she took one, noting that everyone else did so as well. It was now a tradition on the Jackson farm to give an apple to any horse that was to be ridden.

Blackie was a little frisky as Rachael neared his stall, but calmed down as soon as he saw her, apple in hand. She gave the treat to the horse, and stroked his back. She checked him over, and fed some of her peacefulness into the animal, who lapped up the sensations.

Robert was helping Bobby saddle the pony as Rachael reached up to grab the saddle next to Blackie. It nearly dragged her to the ground. “A little help, maybe,” she said, embarrassed that she could no longer lift a 40-pound saddle, especially over her head as she would have to do to if she wanted to put the saddle on Blackie. She was only slightly mollified that Ruby also asked for help from JJ.

When Robert finished with Bobby’s pony, he came over and lifted the saddle up onto Blackie for her. It was at the limits of his strength, but he was only near 14. He had saddled the horse many times before, since he had trained the horse to saddle. Finally he went off to saddle Steve’s horse.

Soon they went off on a little walk out of the corral and out to the rear fields. Rachael could sense that Blackie wanted a good run. “Blackie wants to run. You folks keep trotting, but we are going to go into a gallop.”

“Wanna race? Ruby said with a gleam in her eye. “I’m pretty good on horseback.”

“To the back fence, then along to the east fence, and then back here again?” Rachael said. Ruby nodded her agreement.

“Ready, set, go,” JJ said, and the two girls took off. Ruby took an early lead, as Rachael wanted to see her horse running to ensure that it was fit. Then she let Blackie go, and the stallion was off like a shot. It only took 100 strides for him to catch Ruby, and then they left them behind. Rachael remembered where the ditch was, and had Blackie in perfect stride to be able to soar over it without losing a step.

She was well ahead at the back fence, and reached the east fence before Ruby was even halfway along that leg. Rachael wanted to ease up then, and not embarrass her new friend, but Blackie was having none of that. He wanted to run, and didn’t break stride until they were back with the boys.

She finally pulled the horse up and looked back, seeing Ruby barely past the east fence, galloping for all she was worth, but clearly unable to match Blackie.

“Well done, Rachael,” JJ said.

“Not me. It was all Blackie. He is quite a horse.”

“We should enter him into the farmer races in June,” Robert said. “He would win for sure.”

“He could win several races,” JJ said. “Rachael could ride them in the ladies heats, and you could run him in the under 16 class. Those races are far enough apart that he could do both.”

“Two bad none of these other horses are near him in speed or stamina,” Robert said. “It would be cool if we could win the farm trophy.”

“What are the farmer’s races?” Rachael asked.

“They started them a couple years back,” JJ explained, which was why Ron didn’t know of them. “The local feed mill noticed that the farmers, the cash crop ones, have a gap during mid June as their fields are growing. They organized a little mini-fall-fair, with the races as a centerpiece. Only amateur horses are allowed, no race horses. And if you win once, that horse can’t run again. So Blackie will only get one chance. The top prize to the farm with the four best results is usually a fancy saddle.”

“There are six different classes,” Robert continued as Ruby trotted up. “The seniors are for 45 plus, so Dad could ride in that. The powder puff is for women of any age. There is a pony race for 12 and under, and under-16 and under-20 boys’ divisions. And of course there is the open race at the end.

“You are talking about the farmer’s races,” Ruby mentioned, as she regained her breath from the ride after finally catching up. “Rachael could easily win with Blackie, although you might want to save him for a few other races. That girl could win the powder-puff on a nag.” She reached over to shake Rachael’s hand. “You are quite the rider. It’s a good thing you hadn’t ridden with JJ last week, or he would have had more bragging about you to make me mad.”

“I told the boys: it is not me, it is the horse,” Rachael said.

“Can I ride that horse,” Bobby said, pointing at Blackie.

“You are a bit small for him,” JJ suggested.

“Maybe he could just sit there,” Robert countered.

“That is no fun,” Rachael said. “But I think that Blackie would hold him safely if we just walked.” Someone would have to walk the pony anyway.” JJ finally agreed, if they were only walking.

Rachael slid off the stallion, and went up to hug his neck. “Listen my friend,” she whispered to him. This little boy is the most precious thing I have, and I am counting on you to look after him. No racing, no trotting. You need a walk to cool down anyway. Will you do that for me?” Blackie neighed in agreement.

“Did she just talk to the horse? And the horse answered?” Ruby asked JJ, who had dropped down from his horse.

“And you wondered why I was talking about her so much last week,” JJ said as he lifted Bobby onto Blackie’s saddle. The boy’s eyes went wide as Rachael started walking beside him, always keeping contact with the stallion, while her other hand led the pony along. Once he saw that they were walking at a reasonable pace, JJ jumped back on his horse and caught up.

They walked for about a quarter mile, and Bobby’s expression of pure bliss didn’t diminish at any point. They stopped again, and Bobby rode the pony, and Rachael went back onto Blackie, thanking him for being so gentle. As they rode back to the barn, Ruby rode alongside Rachael.

“Do you have a job, or go to school?” Rachael asked the girl.

“My family runs a beef cattle operation two concessions over,” Ruby said. “My older brother and I have a little meat business. He is a butcher, and we put together packages for people. Since it is a single operation we can offer savings. We give a third of the savings to the customer, a third for Nels and I, and a third for the farm. It works out pretty well.”

“That sounds interesting. How small a package do you do? We don’t have a big freezer at the house, and I don’t think grandpa does either. We don’t eat a lot of meat, or we didn’t, due to the cost. But things are looking better for us now. I don’t see us needing much steak, but a roast once in a while is good, and we always can use stewing beef and hamburger.”

“Bite your tongue, little sister of mine,” Ruby said. “Beef is the wonder food. I’ll have to visit your new house when you get moved in, and check out the freezer situation. Nels is really good at packaging the meat up into nice, compact packs that fit well together. We’ll make you a customer for sure. Especially since I’m going to give you the family discount. You will be my little sister, won’t you? I always wanted one, but my stingy parents thought that Nels and I were enough.”

“I would love to be your sister,” Rachael said. “Oh look, the cows are starting to come in at Archie’s. I want to get over there.”

“I’ll look after JJ and your horses,” Robert offered. “You can head straight over.”

“No,” Rachael said firmly. “If you ride a horse, you brush him down after. It only takes 10 minutes, and they deserve the attention after carrying us around for over an hour.”

In the barn, Rachael gave Blackie the attention he deserved, and then went to check on Bobby. The young boy was carefully and deliberately brushing down the pony, following the ways that Robert had taught him in the morning.

Robert and Bobby accompanied Rachael and JJ to Archie’s farm, while Ruby went to help Mrs. Jackson with dinner.

“The barn looks really clean,” Rachael noted.

“That is thanks to your boyfriend,” JJ said. “The place was a mess. Archie just wasn’t able to keep it up himself. Robert spent a lot of work in here over the last week to get it to this state.”

As the cows lined up to head into the milking parlor, Rachael ran her hand across the back of each one. “Do you have any antiseptic hoof tar?” she asked JJ.

“No, I don’t think so,” JJ says. “Dad has some. Do we need it?”

“Yeah, quite a few of them have early hoof rot, probably from the dirty conditions before Robert cleaned it up.”

JJ winced. The hoof tar was not expensive, but to coat the hooves of 30 cattle, with 120 treatments, would make a significant hit to the farm’s fragile profits. “Go make up about 30 treatments,” Rachael said. Meanwhile Robert and Archie started hooking up the cattle to the milking equipment, while Bobby stood patiently behind Robert, carefully observing everything the older boy did.

The milking was nearly done when JJ returned holding a bucket of black goop, and an official tar applicator. This was a broken hockey stick with a rag wrapped around the end, held on with several nails.

The cows had gone to their stalls after milking, waiting for feed, and Rachael and JJ went down the row, with Rachael touching each cow in turn, and looking for hoof rot. When she could detect an infected hoof, she had JJ apply the tar to that hoof only. On some animals it was only one hoof, occasionally two. Standard veterinary practice would be to treat each animal’s four hooves. But Rachael’s ability to see inside the animals meant she knew exactly which hoof needed the treatment, and there was no need to treat the uninfected hoof. With the floors now clean, there was little chance of the disease spreading.

Robert had finished milking and was about to start feeding the cattle but stopped and watched for a few seconds.

“She is even making them lift their feet for you,” he mentioned to JJ. “And they are so calm. They hated getting tarred that time we had to do those two cows we got in last fall. They fought against it like crazy.”

“And she is only having us do one or two hooves,” JJ noted. “That’s good, because Dad only had this much tar left over from back then. I hope it works.”

It is, Rachael thought to herself. She could feel the infections easing in the animals as JJ applied the mixture. She calmed the cows, telling them that the slight discomfort of the smelly mess would be much better than trying to walk on infected hooves if the disease was not treated. They responded well.

“All done,” Rachael said. “That should look after them.” In all 18 of the 30 cows had one or more hooves treated. “You can wash the tar off them anytime tomorrow.”

Robert and Bobby headed off to feed the cattle, and Rachael left, heading into the house to join the cooks. JJ went back to clean off his equipment.

After Rachael washed up to get the cow smell off her hands, she went into the kitchen and saw that the women were sitting. Ruby had made more biscuits, and they were in the oven on the top rack, while Mrs. Jackson had a roast on the bottom rack, covered in carrots, potatoes, and turnips. Mrs. Jackson had made two apple pies when the gang was out on their horse ride, and they sat on the counter, smelling divine.

“I called your Mom and invited her for dinner,” Mrs. Jackson said. “Peter will head in to get her at the bakery at 6:30. Supper will be at 7.”

“Oh, thanks,” Rachael said. “I was worried about her having to eat something all alone while Bobby and I are out here having fun.”

“Well, it is only fair. I practically dragged you out here today,” she said. “She said that she would bring bakery treats. I already had the pies done, but I’m sure that my boys will be able to devour them both. I’ve often wondered what my pies taste like on the second day … I’ve never had the chance to find out. They will be gone as bedtime snacks if they make it through dinner.” Rachael chuckled.

“Ruby told me that she has adopted you as her little sister,” Mrs. Jackson said. “I hope you and Robert have a long relationship too, because I also really like you. None of the other boys had much luck with first girlfriends. Even JJ had two other girls before he found Ruby here.”

“Well, I know that grade school romances seldom last,” Rachael said. “But I think Robert is something special, and he makes me feel complete. You can tell he has been raised right, and you should be proud of him. Just the way he had handled Bobby today is to his credit. ”

Soon after Maria came into the kitchen, and Rachael introduced her to the others. Then Bobby was speaking a mile a minute about his adventures on the farm. Somehow his walking while atop Blackie turned into riding, and it sounded like he milked the entire two farms on his own. The women just smiled at the enthusiasm of the youngster.

The men came in at 7 p.m. as though a dinner bell had rung, and the ten people ringed the table. Little Lisa gave a short prayer, asking for God to bless their meal, and for all of them to remain friends.

“You’re next, Robby,” Mrs. Jackson said. “Lunch tomorrow, and then Steve will do supper.”

Then there was a quiet spell as the farmers and their visitors made a major dent into the roast. Mrs. Jackson liked to cook meat to just short of well done, so there was a little juice in it, and her family was used to that. Ruby preferred her beef a little rarer, but had to admit that the meat her brother had selected was perfect. The roast vegetables also filled out the hungry stomachs all around.

Maria and her children had to leave shortly before 8, so that the boys could drive her home and be back for the third milking. Bobby actually fell asleep in the car, and Steve had to carry him into the house, where he woke long enough that Rachael could get him to take a bath. She had stolen a kiss from Robert before the Jacksons headed back to work, and thanked him for making Bobby’s day so special.

That night when she laid down next to a clean Bobby to read, Rachael noticed that the boy was already asleep, smiling as he dreamt about his day on the farm.

Rachael also had a shower, to wash off the farm smells so she would be clean for church. She then spent a few hours packing. Her mother had decided that they would move next Sunday, between church and suppertime at Grandpa’s house. Soon to be their house.

Dear Lord

Thank you for letting me meet Ruby. She is so fun, and the perfect match for JJ. Let them marry and have another crop of Jackson’s to honor you. Thank you for letting Bobby experience the farm. He had so much fun, but now he knows where his milk comes from, and hopefully other food as well. The Jacksons work from sunup to sundown for their animals, without a single day off during the year. They deserve to be honored for what they do.

And finally, thank you for making my period so effortless. Today should have been my worst day, and I hardly noticed it, other than having to change pads a couple times.

Amen

A Second Chance – Love is in the Air

By Dawn Natelle

Sorry for the long delay. Blame Bailey. I reread the entire Jem saga over the past week instead of writing. I promise something by the end of the weekend: Dawn

SUNDAY, May 22, 2016

Rachael woke up early on Sunday feeling happy. She went into the washroom, and discovered that her period was still underway, but may even be easing. She had felt no pain or cramping so far, and other then the messiness, it hadn’t been bad at all. She wondered if this had been a boon from St. John and the ones above. She decided to thank them at church today anyway.

She was downstairs making the Sunday morning French toast that Bobby so loved when Maria came down.

“Make extra, we are having company this morning,” she said.

“Really? Who? Are you still coming to church with me?”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Maria said. “Geoff is coming with us.”

“Geoff? Go Mom,” Rachael cheered.

“Don’t get all excited,” Maria said. “He wants me to learn how to drive. Yesterday he decided to have me take the cash to the bank after work, and said I could use the van. I told him I couldn’t drive, and he offered to teach me. When I said we could go after church, he offered to come to church with us.”

“Great. Where are you going to go … to learn to drive, I mean?”

“He suggested the parking lot for the arena. There won’t be many cars there during off season, and I can’t drive on the road without a learner’s permit. I’ll get that on Monday.”

“Well, we should have him for lunch too. Bobby and I will head over to Mikki’s … unless he and his gang have plans.”

Just then that uncommon sound of tires could be heard in the driveway, and a few seconds later Maria was letting Geoff in. Rachael popped her head around the kitchen, spying and hoping to see some signs of affection between the two. There was nothing more than big smiles by each, as they admired their respective Sunday finery.

“Hi Geoff,” Rachael shouted from the kitchen. “Ready for breakfast?” He walked in, wearing a dress shirt and dress pants, and a tie. She had never really seen him outside of the jeans and t-shirt he wore while baking. “Hey, you clean up really nice,” she joked.

“Thanks. That smells wonderful. What are we having?”

“French Toast, made with the finest bread in Ontario,” she said.

“French Toast,” Bobby shouted came out in his pajamas, sliding to a halt when he saw a man in the house. He had a bit of fear on his face until he recognized who it was, and then there was a big smile. “It’s the bakery man,” he crowed.

“Hi Bobby,” Geoff said, tousling the boys unkempt hair. “Do you like French Toast too?”

“It is the best breakfast ever,” Bobby said. “I wish we could have it every day, but Rachael says we don’t have time on school days.”

“I hear you were at a farm yesterday. How did that go?” Geoff asked, and that set Bobby off on a long description of everything he had seen.”

Rachael finished cooking as Maria stared at her boss and her son interacting. She was jolted into action when Rachael asked if she would set the table.

The four sat down, with Bobby wearing a towel like a bib to keep most of the syrup off of his pajama tops. After a short prayer, where Rachael thanked the Lord for allowing them to have company for the day, they dug in.

“This is really good Rachael,” Geoff said. “You are quite the cook for someone so young.”

“Mamma is a good cook too,” Rachael said. “But she works so hard I feel I have to help out wherever I can. You can stay for lunch as well, I hope?”

“Yes,” Geoff said. “Your mom said it would only be sandwiches. We sold out of Love bread on Saturday pretty early. That name has really caught on. I should have you come up with names for some of the other things in the store too.”

“I’d like to try,” Rachael said. “I have a few ideas. I don’t have a computer though, so you will have to type them in for me.”

“I don’t really have all that much time,” Geoff said. “What do you say that we just make an account for you on the bakery computer, and you can use that anytime I’m not using it, or your Mom. Not just for us, but for school too.”

“That would be wonderful,” Rachael said gratefully. “I have to write all my essays out in a neat hand for my teachers, and that is slow. I think they will appreciate getting things off the computer.”

“Oh, I wanted to mention that you are going to be in the paper, or at least your little story about Love Bread is. A girl from the paper was in on Friday, and she convinced me to buy a little ad. It will be in the paper Wednesday.”

“Cool. I hope it works out well for you.”

They finished eating and cleared the table, and Geoff got major points from Rachael for immediately sticking his hands in the sink and starting to wash the dishes. Maria looked a little embarrassed, but Rachael just handed her a dishtowel and told her to get drying.

Rachael took Bobby upstairs to make sure his hands were syrup free before he put on his Sunday clothes on. When they came down, the pair in the kitchen were done, and the four walked to church.

As they went along Rachael noticed how they looked just like a real family, and she hoped that Geoff and her mom were getting the same vibes.

“Look at the church,” Maria said as they walked closer. “It looks … so much tidier.”

“That is due to your sweeper man,” Rachael said. “He got the job as caretaker. I think you might have to start sweeping again, Geoff.”

“Not a problem,” the baker said. “There are always a few minutes to do it while a dough is rising. But I will admit that Gary was much better at it than me. Is he still living rough?”

“No they have a bed for him in the church shed,” Rachael said. “There he is now.” Gary was helping an elderly woman up the steps. There was a ramp, but some older people prefer not to use it before they are forced to.”

“That’s Gary?” Maria asked. “He looks so … good without the beard and the long hair. Younger than I would have thought, too.”

Rachael had to agree. He even had better fitting clothes on. The shirt looked to be one of Steve’s, but the pants were new, or at least purchased for his build. He also had on a deep navy tie that really accented his navy pants and light blue shirt.

“Hi Gary,” Rachael said as they started up the steps. He was helping another woman up, and paused when he saw her.

“Keep going, Gary,” Rachael said when she saw him hesitate. “You are doing an important job here.”

“Thanks Angel,” Gary said. She was close enough to hear him tell the older lady that Rachael was his angel, and he owed so much to her.

“She is a nice girl,” the woman said. “She got into an argument last week with the pastor, who then had a heart attack. She gave him CPR until the ambulance came, and saved his life, apparently.”

She went inside and then Gary turned to Rachael. “I knew you were an angel. You don’t know how good it feels for people to show me respect, after so long. Before they just treated me like something dirty on the bottom of their shoe. Now they will chat with me. And it feels so good to have something to do. I love looking after the church.”

“Well it looks so good, Gary,” Maria said, introducing him to Geoff.

“Don’t you worry about your block,” Gary said. “I will go there every morning and sweep before I start work here. It will be clean when you get there.”

“You don’t need to do that, Gary,” Rachael said.

“But I do. It is important,” he insisted. “Looking after that block; keeping it clean and litter-free; that was what started me back. It gave me something to care for. Getting the fruit and the rolls was nice, but the important thing was that it was one little part of the world that I was making a better place. It gave me my pride back.”

“We should pay you something,” Geoff said.

“You do, you pay me respect. When the Angel-mother here gave me my rolls, and the fruit lady gave me an apple or a banana, it meant that I was important.”

“Well Maria won’t be there in the morning if you are sweeping at dawn,” Geoff said. “So if you come buy anything in the bakery you will get the employee discount, if you are sweeping for us.”

“Thank you sir. I will buy my food there, whenever I can. And the fruit place too.”

“Do you have food now?” Rachael asked.

“Yes, my angel,” The church gave me an advance pay, and the pretty young pastor drove me to a store called Goodwill. I was able to get these trousers and the tie for $10, and I bought some things at another store for making sandwiches. The bread from there isn’t as nice as yours, so when it is gone I will go to your shop. They are letting me use the one fridge that works in the kitchen.”

Gary then saw another senior approaching, and hurried down to introduce himself as the new caretaker, and assist her up the steps.

The others entered the church, and immediately noticed that the place was cleaner. There was a wooden railing down the middle of the entry hall, and in the past it had been sticky with grime. Now it was five shades lighter, with all the years of wax and dirt removed so it looked like new wood. The cleanliness continued into the church itself, and Rachael could see that every pew in the place had also been stripped and cleaned. There must be 40 hours of work, and Gary had only been in his position for 48 hours. She wondered if he had gotten any sleep.

The four took a pew near the front, and waited for the choir and pianist to start the service. Rachael noticed a wooden armchair near the communion table, just to the side of the pastor’s lectern.

Finally the choir started and the new pastor came out, assisting the old pastor, who looked quite feeble. Rachael immediately began to applaud, and soon the entire church was clapping, causing Pastor McNaughton to pause, and look out on his congregation as they greeted him. Pastor McFarland helped him into the chair and then stood at the dais as the applause ended. The crowd was at least twice the normal size, with many people coming because of the events of the prior week.

“Greetings one and all,” the new pastor said. Rachael detected a little nervousness in her voice, but it eased as she went on. “I am Pastor Helen McFarland, and I will be filling in for Pastor McNaughton until he is fully recovered. And judging how much he has recovered from a heart attack only a week ago, I may not have a long period here. I happen to know that his doctor expressly forbade him from coming here. I am told that his refusal to obey anyone but the Lord himself is well known amongst you all.”

The congregation chuckled, agreeing that Pastor McNaughton was not one to obey his doctor when the doctor’s orders disagreed with his own plans.

“I will be reading the sermon today, but I want you all to know that it had significant input from Pastor McNaughton, and that he approves of it, as he will of all the sermons that I give over the next little while. I feel blessed that I get to have the wise oversight of an experienced pastor in my early days. I will handle all the visitations for the next little while, but when Pastor McNaughton feels up to it, he will again resume visitations for those in the congregation who would feel more comfortable with an older and wiser pastor.”

She looked out over the congregation, noticing Steve Winslow, to the right of the church, near the front, staring intently at her, with a small smile on his face.

“Now, the Pastor has been told by his doctor not to address the congregation, so it is with great pleasure that I ask him to address the congregation.” With that she went and tenderly helped the frail man to his feet, leading him to the lectern, and placing his arms on it for support. She stepped back, but not far, and was ready to catch him should his legs fail him. As she did this, the congregation again began a steady applause.

“Stop it,” he shouted. His body might be frail, but his voice still had the same old power in it. “This is a house of God, not a hockey arena.” He paused and looked around as the applause quickly died away. “But I want you all to know that you have touched my heart. And in a good way, this time. I want to give special thanks to one young girl: Rachael Cartright. Rachael and I had an argument last week, and it turns out that she was right. I nearly died, but she saved me. And I visited the very gates of heaven before she pulled me back. I was told that it is not my time, and that I have been a sinner. What Rachael said last week was true: this is not my church, it is not your church, it is God’s church. I had no right to try to tell certain people that they should not be here. I will personally apologize to them in the coming week, and I hope that they will be here next week. I know that some of you will disagree with that, and perhaps be offended. You shouldn’t be. You should welcome them. They are God’s children, just as you and I are. They have every right to be here, and to pray to God in our church as you do. I will not accept anyone misusing or abusing them the way I did last week. I was, and am a sinner, and must now work to atone for the evil I have done. Now, if you don’t mind, I think I need to sit down for a few minutes and watch this pretty young pastor do the Lord’s work.”

With that, he seemed to falter, but Helen caught him and managed to move him back to his chair. She seemed to want to have him leave the church, but he insisted, and once he was sitting his breathing became more regular, and she soon felt more relieved that he was not having another attack.

During the rest of the service, which was on making the church inclusive to all, Ruth occasionally turned to check on him. At one point, where it was traditional for the congregation to rise up in prayer, she turned to him and said, loudly enough to be heard “You sit.” He had been struggling to get to his feet, but slumped back. Then she turned to the congregation and added. “Any more of you who feel stressed by standing can remain seated. You have stood tall for the rest of us for so many years: now it is our turn to stand for you.”

At the end of the service, Steve leapt up to the dais and helped Helen assist the old pastor. “You go to the front to greet the congregation,” he told her. “It is important. I will look after Pastor McNaughton.”

She did so, marching quickly to the entrance as the final hymn was sung. There seemed to be a slight argument with the officer and the pastor, and as the music was dying away, Steve started assisting him to the front. Gary was right behind, carrying the pastor’s chair, which he set up in the entry. Steve eased the pastor into it, and Pastor McNaughton held rule on the right side of the entry, accepting well-wishes from the elder members of the congregation, while Helen met with the others. Most stopped at both sides. Gary went to the door, and helped the elderly down the steps.

“That was a wonderful service,” Maria told the young pastor who beamed with pride, thanking her for the compliment.

“And I hope you noticed a certain young police officer being helpful,” Rachael added, looking over at Steve, who was now paying attention to Pastor McNaughton, although he did look over at Helen and smile frequently.

“Do you really think he likes me?” Helen said softly, so other members of the congregation would not hear.

“I know he does,” Rachael said. “If he asks to see you, be sure to accept. He is a good man.”

The family then went over to greet Pastor McNaughton, now that the crowd waiting to greet him had died down. “Rachael and mother, and the young boy,” the pastor said. “And now a fourth member of the family.”

“Oh, he’s not family,” Maria said quickly. “He is my boss.”

“Well, my dear, you four do look like a family,” he said. “Perhaps … But I must apologize to you. I was less than gracious in welcoming you to our church a few weeks back. I have since learned that single parents have every right to God’s word and blessings.”

“I don’t mind,” Maria said. “I know sometimes it is hard to adapt to the changing world.”

“Well, there is no doubt that you are a wonderful parent to these two,” he said. “To raise a child like young Rachael here shows me that you have God’s blessings in you.”

“I hope so,” she said.

“And you my dear,” he turned to Rachael. “Have you set anything up with those young men I need to apologize to?”

“I was thinking Saturday,” she said. “But I can postpone it if you aren’t ready. You looked a little shaky up there today.”

“I felt a lot shaky,” he said with a smile. “But I should be a lot stronger by next Saturday. I can get Helen here to drive us, can’t I dear?”

“Yes pastor,” Helen said, having sent the last of the congregants on their way. Steve and Gary were both standing behind the elder pastor.

“Could one of you fine gentlemen help me to my bed in the manse?” Pastor McNaughton said. Helen followed as Steve helped the pastor out. Gary took the chair and returned it to wherever it belonged.

The four walked home. “That was quite the service,” Geoff said.

“It was a tame one,” Maria said. “No calls to 9-1-1 or anything.

“I’d like to come again, if you three don’t mind ‘looking like a family’,” he said.

“I like looking like a family,” Rachael said. “In fact, I’d like to invite you to our family dinner tonight. We are having roast beef, and you will get a chance to meet grandpa.”

“The one you are moving in with?” Geoff said. Rachael nodded.

“Oh I don’t think Geoff wants to spend the entire day with us,” Maria said. “We were only going to do an hour or two at the arena. That will be about as much learning as this old brain can handle in one day.”

“You could take her for a drive after,” Rachael said. “She will learn by watching how you drive on the roads. And the river is so nice at this time of the year. Then if you are up to it, another couple hours at the arena, and by the time that is over you can come back for dinner. You are dressed for it.”

“And I certainly would enjoy a home-cooked meal. If your mother says it is okay.”

“Rachael is the cook, and she invited you,” Maria said. Then she smiled. “But I certainly wouldn’t object if you can put up with me for the entire day.”

They were soon home, and after a sandwich and some of Rachael’s chicken noodle soup, the older pair went driving in the van, while the younger pair headed off on foot to Mikki’s. Bobby said that the boys were going to come by later to get him, but he hoped to get an hour or two in with Danni and her Playstation.

At Mikki’s Bobby made a beeline to Danni’s room to play with her. Rachael had checked in with them in the past, and they really were in two separate worlds. Danni would be playing house: Bobby was the daddy, she was the mommy, and her dolls were the kids. Bobby, on the other hand, was just playing the male-orientated video games her dad had bought her when he was trying to boyify her. Danni would tell the dolls that ‘Daddy is home from work and just wants to play his games,’ while she and the dolls had tea parties and such. From time to time she would wait on Bobby: getting him a pop or a cookie, or such things. She was happy, he was happy, and all was well.

Rachael went down to the basement after greeting Mr. and Mrs. Stoner. Mikki was working on the computer, doing ‘post’ on the sleep-over pictures.

“I can let you work,” Rachael said. “I don’t want to interrupt you.”

“No, I need a break anyway,” Mikki said. “I’ve been on this since Friday night. Five hours then, and about 10 yesterday, and five so far today. Another five after you leave should finish it up. Let me show you some of what I’ve done.”

“Twenty-five hours?” Rachael gasped. “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe,” Mikki said with a smile. “I really like doing this kind of stuff. Sometimes it gets boring, like a wedding of someone I don’t know, but these are pictures of my friends, so it is special. Look, here is the composite.”

She handed Rachael a large sheet of photo material. On it Rachael was amazed to see all the girls from the sleepover, standing together in their Jessica Rabbit costume. The same Jessica Rabbit costume and the same red wig. There were tall thin Jessicas, short chubby Jessicas, and medium Jessicas, all smiling and all looking like they had been photographed in one shot. You couldn’t see where any of the cutting and pasting had been done.

“This is the best of all,” Mikki said, handing her another photo. “It was Larissa, the tall Jessica. But it was a solo shot, with her puffing away on her cigarette. It was incredible, with the massive breasts showing tons of cleavage, and Larissa posing like the pro she was. She had the hip pads in, and the corset on, and she really looked like the cartoon brought to life.

“Keep this away from the boys,” Rachael said. “Otherwise it will go up on the web and will go viral in, oh, twelve seconds.”

“Here’s you,” Mikki handed her a copy of herself in the Jessica outfit. It would have impressed her more if she hadn’t seen Larissa first. She was shorter, and chubbier, but not, somehow. “Why do I look skinnier?” she asked.

“Photoshop magic,” Mikki said. “I took a bit off. I didn’t want to go nuts. You take too much off and it looks fake. But that will give you something to shoot for on your diet. I wanted to put mine up on the fridge, but Dad said it was too explicit. Kyle’s eyes sure ogled when he saw it.”

Rachael remembered wearing the costume, and the heavy breast forms that were needed to fill out the bra. “No, that isn’t the goal I’m aiming for. Those boobs were way too big. Always getting in the way. Not for me. If I get as big as Mom I’ll be happy, or anything less.”

Look at this one then: she handed Rachael another picture, and it was her in the old fashioned dress with the corset. “This I really like. There is only the one set of boobs, and the corset kinda pushed the fat out of the way. Or did you do that in Photoshop too?”

“Lil bit” Mikki admitted. The girls spent a couple hours looking at the pictures of the other girls too, and Mikki showed Rachael how she did it. The original photos showed lines where the fake boobs met the flesh of the girl, and looked totally fake. It was Mikki’s skill with the computer that smoothed the lines out and added more cleavage when it was needed. She showed how she could play with the photos, and had the Jessica Rabbit of herself extended so it looked as tall and sexy as Larissa’s. But she was right, it was too much, and look faked. Her good photo showed her about 20 pounds lighter though, really impressive when you compared the finished picture to the original.

Soon it was time to go, and Mikki gave her an envelope with all her pictures. The rest of the girls would get theirs in school at lunch on Tuesday. Rachael gathered up Bobby, waiting for him to get through a level, and then they walked over to Marc’s.

Jerry was not around today, so Marc was alone taking shots at a hockey net in the back of the three-car garage.

“Can I stay and play, Rachael?” Bobby asked with puppy dog eyes.

“Will you boys stay here?” she asked Marc, who nodded. “Go ask your Mom if it is all right.” Maria had said the three boys could roam around together, on the grounds that if one got hurt, one could run for help while the third stayed with the injured one. This meant that with only two, they had to stay at the house.

Mme. Hafleur came to the door, and Rachael met her for the first time. She spoke very broken English, and got a wide grin when Rachael changed over to French to speak with her. She explained that Marc was getting excited about hockey camp, which was starting in six weeks, just after school ended. There was a power skating camp the following two weeks. He was signed up for both. Rachael learned that each camp cost $1000, so it was out of Bobby’s price range. Then Mme. Hafleur mentioned that Marc’s skates, sticks, and equipment would cost another $1000. That quelled any hope that Rachael had of getting Bobby into the camp. She even wondered if she should let him play the game in the garage.

As the women were talking, Marc had bundled Bobby up in a goalie mask, pads, and with a big goalie stick, and was starting to take shots. Looking at her brother, Rachael remembered his fear of the baseball, and decided to let him face Marc’s slap shots. That should cure him of any love of hockey.

She walked off home alone, after telling Mme. Hafleur to send Bobby home at five, or sooner if she got tired of him.

Rachael then started working on her meal. The roast was already to go into the oven, having been marinating overnight. She started to work on the vegetables, with carrots, potatoes, and turnips. She made a few extra to compensate for having an extra plate on the table tonight. She was so pleased that Geoff was joining them. He and her mom were perfect for each other. Anyone could see that. Except them. Hopefully driving lessons, and a romantic drive down to the river would get them smartened up.

Geoff, Maria and Bobby all arrived home together. Maria had seen her son shuffling home from Marc’s and they had picked him up. It was still an hour before Grandpa would arrive, and Rachael banned all noses from the kitchen, no matter how tempting the smell was. She was making a cake, Angel Food, and wanted to concentrate on the task.

The other three were chatting in the living room, with Bobby excitedly telling them about playing ball hockey with Marc. He apparently didn’t mind getting pummeled by a puck hit by his much bigger friend.

Soon they heard the Legion man, helping Grandpa in. Rachael gave the man several biscuits and noted that this would be the last day they would need rides. He seemed disappointed. There were six more volunteers on the list to drive, and most of the prior drivers were willing to do it again for a chance to spend time with a bona fide Victoria Cross recipient.

Grandpa was ushered into his chair, which Geoff gladly gave up. The two men chatted while Maria came into the kitchen to help set the table. Soon there was the meal, and after a prayer, Rachael turned it over to Grandpa.

“Tonight I want to remember Willy Constance,” he started. “Willy was one of the ones who came home. At least most of him did. He left a leg behind. A land mine got him, and it was only the quick work of our medic that kept him alive until they got him to an aid station. His war was over a year early, and when he got home, the girl that was waiting for him dumped him. Luckily there were a lot of other single girls at the time, and one, a nurse, fell for Willy. Willy married her, and they had five fine kids. He ran the poolroom downtown for years and years, and finally passed on about 20 years ago. You wouldn’t think it, but it was one of the biggest funerals in town. The man had always been fair, and always treated people right. I am so proud that I knew him, and fought with him. God Bless Willy.”

Bobby was especially quiet after this prayer, and Rachael realized that he was seeing for the first time that it was not all glamor and glory in a war. Soon the somber mood lifted and a fine family dinner was served.

Maria and Rachael cleared the table while the men chatted, and Bobby did his reading, impressing both Geoff and Grandpa. Soon the other Legion man arrived, and he took Grandpa and Rachael to his house, then brought Rachael back after she had helped the old man to bed.

Geoff left soon after, and there was no kiss at the door, as Rachael had hoped. In fact when her mother came back, she was chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Apparently your Grandpa gave Geoff permission to marry me,” she said. “It happened when they were chatting after dinner. He said Geoff was a fine man, and that he thought the bakery would just grow over time, and he was pleased that Geoff was interested in me. But of course he’s not. He’s just my boss.”

“Momma, how can you not see it? Of course he is interested in you. He wouldn’t have told you Grandpa approved. He really likes you. There was no reason for him to come to church with us, except because he likes you. He smiled whenever anyone said we looked like a family. I think he wants us to be a family,” she said.

The discussion ended when Bobby finished his bath, and stood at the top of the stairs holding his Harry Potter book. Rachael and Maria both went up to read to him, and when he finally fell asleep, they too went to bed after a busy day.

Dear Lord

It seems that spring means love is in the air. I hope you agree with me that Helen and Steve, and Mom and Geoff would make wonderful couples. If you do, and you can do anything to push them along I think it will be good. Please look after everyone.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Hope you all enjoy this: Dawn

MONDAY, May 23, 2016 (Victoria Day Holiday in Canada)

Rachael was up well before dawn on Monday and crept through the house, trying to be quiet and not wake her mother or Bobby. In the bathroom, she discovered that her period seemed to be nearly over, and said a quick prayer of thanks for it having been so painless. Then she went downstairs and quietly slipped out the door.

Then she left for her Grandpa’s house. He was already awake, and she made them each a bowl of cereal and some toast for breakfast. After about 15 minutes a van pulled up at his driveway and inside were Mikki, Carly, Larissa, and Larissa’s mom, driving. Mikki had piles of camera equipment stacked up in the back of the van. Rachael helped Grandpa, wearing an old, loose-fitting uniform, into the front passenger seat, and then crawled into the back with the girls.

Grandpa soon realized that Mme. Hafleur preferred speaking French, and they were soon chatting away in the front. Rachael also spoke in French, directing the woman downtown to where the cenotaph was through the dark streets.

As soon as they arrived the girls piled out of the van and Mikki directed them in setting up the equipment. Even for late May there was a chill in the pre-dawn air, so Rachael asked Grandpa and Mme. Hafleur to stay in the van where it was warmer.

Mikki was in charge. Larissa and Rachael helped her set up, while Carly read her lines for the introduction they hoped to shoot today. There was also a section there for the wrap-up, in case they were able to get to it as well. Rachael had written both during the past week, and all four girls had agreed that they were happy with them.

The sun was just peaking over the horizon when Mikki was ready. Carly was on first, wearing a nice, conservative dress that Larissa had picked out for her from her ample clothing collection. Rachael held up a big umbrella thing that reflected the light on Carly’s face and front to Mikki’s satisfaction.

Carly recited: “In the Town of Ingersoll, the cenotaph monument is different from most Ontario towns, where only the names of the fallen are recorded. Here the names of everyone who served are listed: those who died in battle, as well as those who returned,” Carly said. “Staff Sergeant Pierre Verdun is listed on the monument, but it is not his name he is looking for. It is the name of those he served with: those who survived, and those who did not. Almost all of the veterans of World War II are gone now: those who were not taken by battle have been taken by time. But the names on the cenotaph record the names of all, and for Sgt. Verdun, he can find the names of the men who he served with. Including that of Corporal George Stiller who served with Sgt. Verdun from the start of the war until a fateful day in June, 1944.”

“And cut,” Mikki said. “That was good, but I think we can do better.”

It took five more attempts to get the few seconds of video done. Carly kept stumbling over the words, until finally Rachael took the script away from her, and had her say it from memory in her own words. That worked, and although she changed a word here or there, it was now smooth and natural. Mikki made her do it one more time, and that was even better, without the nervous frustration from trying to follow the script perfectly.

“Okay, now the part introducing Larissa,” Mikki said. “If we can get that in two or three takes, the sun will be perfect for doing Grandpa’s role.”

This time Carly was not on camera, and she just had to narrate as Larissa came up to the cenotaph and looked around until she found the name she was looking for, Sgt. Pierre Verdun. She would then touch the name, running her finger along it, and then turn to the camera and smile.

Carly read, and felt less pressure, because Mikki said if the words were not perfect, then they could redo the sound. “In early 2016, more than 70 years after the liberation of France by allied soldiers, a young French family moved to Canada. Back in France their daughter, Larissa, had often seen the graves of the fallen Canadians who died freeing her nation. Like all students there, she had annually gone to the graves of the fallen, to remember them, and to honor them. When she moved to the strange and cold country of Canada, she was surprised to learn that one of these veterans still lived, only a few short blocks from her home, and she was able to meet him in person.” At that point Larissa found Grandpa’s name on the cenotaph, and turned and smiled.

“Cut,” Mikki called out. “That was perfect Larissa. Perfect Carly. But let’s do one more take. The sun is not quite right for Grandpa yet.”

A few minutes later Rachael helped Grandpa out of the van, and Mme. Hafleur also got out, impressed by what her daughter and friends were doing.

Again, this would be a non-synced scene, with Carly reading off camera. When Mikki was ready, Rachael got her umbrella, and held it up as Larissa took Grandpa’s arm and helped him, especially up the rather high step the cenotaph steles stood on. He searched for the names, and then his finger lit on the one of Corporal Stiller. In perfect timing a tear came to Grandpa’s eyes, as he traced around the poppy symbol beside the name that designated a fallen hero.

Carly read: “It is the name of George Stiller that Sgt. Verdun is looking for today. George was 18 when he enlisted, and 21 when he crossed over to France. They were not in the first wave on D-Day, but several days later they were clearing the way for several Canadian divisions, when they came to a concentration of Nazi defenders, determined not to let the Canadians through. George lost his life that day, and since that time has rested in a war cemetery several miles away from where he fell.”

“Cut,” Mikki said. “There is no way I’ll be able to duplicate Grandpa’s face, and that tear. It is perfect. You can get down now, Grandpa.”

“No. I think I will stay here for a bit, if this young lady will oblige me.”

“I will do anything you want, sir,” Larissa said softly. “We owe so much to you, and to all of the others named here.” Grandpa’s hand went from one name to another. A few were men he served with, but as a Van Doo, these were few. But there were many other names that he recognized from men he met at the Legion after the war. His finger went from one to the other, and he sighed. The girls and Mme. Hafleur were able to pack up the van before he finished.

Larissa gently helped him down the step. “Don’t get old, girls,” he said somberly. “It is no fun being the last of your generation.”

“They call it the greatest generation,” Rachael said, “and there is a good reason for that. And perhaps you are here still so that you can pass the story on to us younger ones. Remember:

To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high!
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.”

“Oooh, we need to get that into the video,” Mikki said. “Will you be able to remember it?”

“I will never forget it,” Rachael said. Grandpa looked over to her and smiled.

“Yes, you will always hold that torch high, won’t you?” The somber mood from the cenotaph was gone. “What now?”

“Lunch next,” Rachael said. “Then we will film a bit in your living room, telling the story of that day. It will only take a few minutes for us to whip up some sandwiches for you.”

“I love your sandwiches,” Grandpa said. “But it is my turn to treat. How often does an old soldier get to take five pretty young ladies to lunch? Should we go to that café your Mom worked at?”

“Anywhere but there,” Rachael said. “It looks like that little place down the street there is open. Let’s go in.”

Mme. Hafleur insisted on paying the tip for the meal. Grandpa had forgotten his wallet, but his embarrassment eased when Rachael noted that she had his debit card, and was able to pay for the meal with his money using it.

The group went back to Grandpa’s house, and Mikki set the living room up as a studio. This time all the reflectors and lights were on tripods, which left Rachael without anything to do. Carly’s role was also minimal, since this scene, the longest and most important one in the movie, would just be Larissa asking Grandpa to describe that day. Each pass through took about 15 minutes, and after the second one Mikki decided that they were into a point of diminishing returns. Grandpa was not an actor, and telling the same story over and over to the same person didn’t seem to fit his temperament.

“I think we have some good stuff,” Mikki said. “No sense going at it again. Now I just want to get a shot of the medal. Then we just have to put it together with the file Larissa’s uncle shot in France.”

M. Hafleur had shot a perfect scene. Only 30 seconds long, it started with a wide view shot of the cemetery, with the stones lined up row on row in that triangle kind of effect that a camera creates. He then zoomed in, and also walked closer until there was a full frame of George’s gravestone. It had been a beautiful, sunny day, and the inscription on the stone could be clearly read. The video had bounced slightly as he had walked forward, but only Mikki noticed, and said she could stabilize the image.

Another bonus had come from the National Film Board, who turned up an 18 second newsreel clip of the King presenting Grandpa with his medal.

As Mikki was getting her medal photos shot, including a shot of the newspaper article, Rachael heard giggles from outside. It was Marc, Jerry and Bobby, playing with Miss Lajoie’s dogs.

“Whatcha doin’?” Bobby asked as he rolled between the two dogs, who now considered him a member of their pack and loved playing with him.

“We are just finishing up our video of Grandpa in the war,” Rachael said.

“Can I be in it?” Bobby begged. “I want to shoot at the Nazis. Bang, bang, bang.”

“No, Bobby. You can’t,” she said. “You are a bit too little to pass as a soldier. But you have just given me an idea. And where’s Momma?”

“The baker man, Geoff, came by and they went off for another driving lesson. She said I had to come down here and see if you would look after me. If you won’t I have to go home and read in the house.”

“Yeah, you can stay. You have your friends anyway. Is Miss Lajoie going to let you walk the dogs?”

“Yes, she went to get the leashes.”

“Well, take a good long walk. I want to talk to the girls for a minute.”

Rachael went inside, and saw that Mikki was packing the last of her gear. “All done, except for the editing,” she said. “I think we have a pretty good video.”

“Want to make it a great video?” Rachael asked.

“What? How?” Carly said.

“What if, while Grandpa is telling his story, we have actual live action of what he was describing? We could shoot it in black and white, and have shots of him, or a young man acting as him, throwing the grenades, and shooting his rifle off at the Germans.”

Mikki’s eyes went wide. “That would be perfect. As I was shooting Larissa and him talking I was bothered that it was such a long scene with no real action. We could cut back and forth between them talking and the action shots. It would be great.”

“But where would we get actors? That costs a lot of money, doesn’t it?” Carly said.

“I think that if we ask the Legion, they will find us some soldiers: with authentic uniforms and weapons,” Rachael said. “In fact, I bet there are a lot of high school seniors who had a grandpa over there that would love to honor them that way. And in the credits, we could mention the boy’s name, and then the name of the grandfather.

“I’ll call the Legion,” Rachael continued. “I know a bunch of guys from there who helped drive Grandpa to dinner. We’ll have to shoot it next week, won’t we? To give Mikki time to edit it together?”

“Two weeks would still leave enough time,” Mikki said, “if you guys are going to help with the editing. I can use both Macs at home, and have one or the other of you doing things on the one while I work on the other. It’s going to take a week or so though.”

“I don’t care if it isn’t perfect for the project,” Rachael said. “We can keep working on it into the summer if it will make it better. I think Mr. Churchill will accept it in an unfinished state, if we are close. Heck, I bet he would give us an A just on what we have shot so far.”

With that the girls were driven home, and Rachael stayed and helped Grandpa lay back for his nap. Soon after, including a little cleaning of the living room, she heard the boys come back. The dogs were returned to their kennels, and when Rachael went out, she heard Jerry prodding Bobby, saying “Ask her.”

Rachael wasn’t 100 percent trusting of Jerry. After all, he and Jeb had attacked Bobby only a few weeks ago, so her interest was piqued. “Ask me what?” she said.

Bobby got nervous. “The guys both have bikes, and I don’t. I tried telling them that Mom doesn’t have the money for a bike, but they wanted me to ask you.”

Rachael tousled her brother’s hair, still messy from rolling in the grass with the dogs. “You know, Bobby, you really are a good kid. Not wanting to ask for something and make Momma feel bad. But I think there is a little more money now. We probably can’t afford a new bike for you, but a used one might be possible. And I think I know just the place. Let’s go to church.”

“On a Monday?” Marc was rather astounded at the idea. As they walked closer, Jerry balked. “That isn’t my church,” he said, stopping.

“Mine either,” Marc said. Rachael knew that he was Catholic, from talking with Larissa. She didn’t know what faith Jerry followed.

“It doesn’t matter boys,” she explained. “You can visit other churches without hurting your own church. In fact, it would be a good thing if people could see how others pray. It is the same God, isn’t it?”

That seemed to mollify them, and they resumed walking. Rachael led them around the back, where she saw the shed door was open. She popped inside, hoping to find Gary, either working or relaxing, although she had doubts that he ever relaxed. The shed showed signs of his attention. In only a few days it had turned from an unwieldy junk pile of garbage into a semi-orderly arranged area. There was now a tool bench that had a head of rusty tools at one end, but at the other there was a wall adorned with clean and useful tools. Of the larger items, an attempt at organization was made, with appliances and power tools arranged near each other. There were several refrigerators currently in states of tear down. Then Rachael saw what she was hoping to find. There was an area with perhaps a half dozen bicycles hanging from rafters.

Smiling, she popped out of the shed. “What a mess,” Jerry said.

“You should have seen it before Gary started cleaning it up,” Rachael said. “Let’s see if he is inside the church. Probably in the basement.

Rachael’s guess was right. Gary was down in the kitchen, and he had four refrigerators torn apart, with items strewn across the floor. “Be careful boys, don’t mess up Gary’s work.” She then addressed him: “What are you up to, Gary?”

“Fixing the fridges first,” the caretaker said. “We had four down here, donated by folks that got a new one at home. None of them work correctly, although that one had a working freezer, and that one had the rest working, but not the freezer. Pastor McFarland asked if I could get it so they have one good one, but it looks like I should be able to get them all going with the parts of a couple that were in the shed.”

“I saw those,” Rachael said. “It made me think you might be down here.”

“Do you know if the fridge and stove work in the house Pastor McFarland is moving into? You live there now, don’t you?”

“Yes we do, until Sunday. And both fridge and stove work well, although they are a bit old. No older than these four though.”

“I’ll go over and check after she moves in,” Gary suggested. “Just to make sure and maybe give them a tune up. And then I have to work on the stoves here. Two have a burner or two working, but none of the ovens work. The church ladies apparently had to stop doing dinners a few years back without ovens.”

An idea started forming in Rachael’s head. “Gary, when you were living rough, you used to go to the soup kitchens in town, didn’t you?”

“Sometimes. But there was never one around this part of town.”

“Was there a place to go every night of the week?”

“No. The downtown United Church did Monday and Friday, and the Baptist Church did Tuesday and Thursday. But there was nothing on Wednesday, and of course the churches are too busy on the weekends for the likes of us.”

“You should mention that to Pastor McFarland,” Rachael said. “If you were to get the kitchen up and running, we could do a mission dinner on Wednesday’s for folks that need a good meal. I know of some places that would donate food to help out, and we all could provide labour.”

“I knew you were an Angel,” he said. “Always thinking of others. I know what it is like to have an empty stomach for days on end. I’d be willing to donate some of the money the deacon keeps giving me. I don’t need all of it, and I just put the rest back into the mission box. And he keeps giving it back to me.” He chuckled. “I wrote my name on a twenty from the first money he gave me, real small like, and put it in the collection plate on Sunday. So that night he gives me $60 more, and guess what? That same twenty came back to me. I dropped it into the collection box this morning. I wonder if I will get it again?”

Rachael laughed along with the man. “You really should keep your money. You are certainly earning it. That brings us to the reason we are here. Bobby needs a bike, and I thought I saw some in your shed. Do you want to fix one up and sell it to me?”

“Come with me,” Gary said, leading her and the boys back up out of the basement through a side door Rachael didn’t know existed, and back to the shed. Gary went to the area with the bikes, and pulled three down.

One actually looked pretty good. It was at least 20 years old, but in good shape, with good tires, although totally flat. “Too big for him,” Gary said, and put it to the side. “It isn’t safe for a boy to ride a bike that is too big. This one would work though.”

“But that’s a girl’s bike,” Jerry sneered.

“Yep, and without the crossbar it is safer,” Gary said.

“But it is a girl’s bike. Bobby is a boy,” Jerry insisted.

“Well, some people would think a girl’s bike is better than no bike at all,” Gary said. “But let’s look at this one. It is the perfect size for him. Should last him two years, maybe three depending on how fast he grows.”

“That’s a pile of cra … crud,” Jerry sneered. The bike did look like it was past its best-before date, Rachael thought. The front tire was torn open, and didn’t seem to have a tube, and the back tire had more than a few broken spokes. It looked as though someone had put a foot through it. The saddle covering was gone, with only the raw springs left, and the handlebars were bent to an odd angle.

“Can you really fix it up?” Rachael asked. “And how much will it cost?”

“I think we need about $40 for tires and parts that I can’t get or make. But by the time I finish with it, it will make that big one look like the pile of crud.”

Rachael went into her purse and forked out $40 from the grocery money. She had $40 saved up from the money Maria had given her for clothes, so if Momma wasn’t happy, she would use that money to reimburse the grocery funds. “Here, Gary,” this is a down payment. I want to pay you for your time, though. Keep track of the time you spend on it, and I will pay you for that.”

“No way, my angel,” Gary said. “You have already given me so much. I will start on this tonight, after I clean up the kitchen a bit. Your will have your bike on Wednesday, if you come in after school,” he told Bobby.

“I’m going to have a bike. I’m going to have a bike,” the boy chanted to himself as they walked home. Marc and Jerry turned off to go to Marc’s house, where Jerry had apparently left his bike.

“Well, the next thing we have to do is get you a helmet, and then teach you to ride,” Rachael said.

“Yeah, I need a helmet,” he said. “But I already know how to ride. Marc and Jerry would take their bikes down to the park, and I ran alongside. When we got there, they taught me how to ride. I fell down a couple times, but now I am getting pretty good: on Jerry’s anyway. Gary is right. Marc’s bike is too big for me, and I was always falling from it.”

“Wow. That surprises me. And look, there is another surprise. Geoff is parked out in front of our house. Let’s go say hello, and ask Momma if you can have a bike.”

Inside they found that there was an incredible aroma, with bags and boxes on the dining room table.

“Geoff was so impressed by your dinner yesterday he volunteered to treat us tonight. It is Chinese food,” Maria said. “I haven’t eaten Chinese since before Bobby was born.”

Of course Bobby and Rachael had never had it, although Ron-memories of Chinese food still were there. Bobby turned his nose up at some of the strange-looking food, but tried small bites of everything, and found he really liked more than half the dishes. Chicken balls were his favorites, along with the egg rolls. And rice was familiar to him, but he liked the taste of chicken-fried rice, pronouncing it ‘best rice ever.’

Over the meal, they told about the great bicycle caper with Gary, and Maria said that she would buy Bobby a brand new bike, if he didn’t like the one Gary came up with. “We have some money now,” she insisted, “with all the money from rent savings, plus the bonus money my new boss keeps throwing at me.” She gave Geoff a smile that Rachael thought might be more than just friendly.

“Yes Momma, but we shouldn’t stop being frugal. You need some savings, and there is bound to be something else come up,” Rachael said.

“Yes, but a boy needs a bike,” she said. “If the one you found doesn’t work out, I’ll get him one somehow.”

“He does need a helmet,” Rachael said. “And that isn’t an area I want to scrimp on. Can you get him one tomorrow? Gary is going to have the bike ready on Wednesday after school.”

“We could drive to the store after the bakery closes,” Geoff suggested. “You’ll have your beginner’s license by then, and can practice driving in town. It will be good experience for you, and we can go to the sporting goods store at the mall. They have helmets there, or at Canadian Tire.”

“You should be sleeping at 6:30, not shopping with me,” Maria scolded. Geoff just smiled.

“One short night won’t kill me,” he said. “And driving out there will save you guys more than an hour on the bus.”

“As long as you get your baking done on time. I’ll be the one they complain to if their bread or goodies aren’t ready and waiting for them at 9 a.m.”

Geoff left, Bobby went for his bath, and Rachael and Maria chatted about their respective days. Rachael didn’t bring it up, but it was clear that Geoff and her mom were building more than a work relationship. Rachael discussed how the movie was going, and how grandpa felt about it.

After reading to Bobby, Rachael knelt by the side of her bed.

Dear Lord

Thank you again for this wonderful life. Bless Bobby, who didn’t want to ask for a bike. His eyes got so wide when Gary said he would fix him up with one. I know Bobby will love whatever Gary can do. He always does. And Bless Gary. He is working so hard for the church. He is like a new man. A good man. A man that honors his Lord, and works so hard to atone for his former life. And Bless Grandpa. It was hard for him today, seeing all those names of friends who are gone now. But hopefully when we move in with him next week, we can give him enough love to make up for his long, hard life. And please, please, help me get Momma and Geoff together.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

A long delay in getting this one out. I promise the next one won’t be an entire week away: Dawn

TUESDAY, May 24, 2016

Maria was up ahead of Rachael. While she was working at the café, Rachael and Bobby used the sole bathroom in the house first. Now that her shift at the bakery started earlier, Maria went in first while the kids slept, although she often heard Rachael moving around as she dressed for work. Bobby, on the other hand, practically had to be pulled out of bed. Luckily Rachael looked after that task, as well as making him breakfast and getting him on his bus.

As usual Rachael came downstairs just in time to give her mother a kiss and hug before she walked to work. The front door of the bakery would be locked until 9 a.m., but Maria went to the back door and found Geoff baking. He had been working since 11 p.m., and had a great deal baked already, and the smells coming from the ovens said that more was on the way. Geoff looked up at the clock, and grimaced. It was 7:40.

“How is it that you don’t know when 8 a.m. is?” her boss said with a smile. “I’m putting you down for a 7:30 start today.”

“But that isn’t fair, it is only 20 minutes early,” Maria mock protested.

“Yes, but you came in 15 minutes early on Saturday,” Geoff said.

“Do you want some help out here, or should I get ahead in the front,” Maria asked. She had grown to learn a lot about baking in the few weeks she was here. She now knew the difference between the proofer and the ovens (the proofer is where yeast-based goods rise, or prove). She could roll buns or bread and was able to use the deep fryer, used for doughnuts. Some other machines were beyond her ability. The sheeter/molder was beyond her understanding. It rolled the blocks of bread dough into loaves, and later in the day would be used to roll out thin sheets of dough for Danish pastry or the bakery’s delicious croissants, which were now sold in more than a half dozen local cafés and restaurants. As well, she could not match Geoff in weighing dough. Each loaf was weighed, and he could do about one every other second, often getting the weight perfectly when he cut off a loaf from the dough pile, and if not, knowing exactly how big a piece to add or subtract to make the weight balance. Maria had tried weighing once, and it took her up to 15 seconds to make a loaf, often with eight or nine cuts.

“Bread is ready for the proofer. This is the third batch of Love bread, and there is a second batch of white to come as soon as that is out of the oven,” Geoff said, wheeling the molder over. It was set up for making loves, and a lump of weighed and bench-risen dough would be tossed in one end. The bread would be flattened from its bench rise, and then shaped by the molder first into a long flat oval, and then a mesh chain thing at the end would roll the oval into a loaf, ready to toss into the pan. With Maria there, she could place the molded loaves into the pans, which were actually four loaf pans welded together. If Geoff was doing it alone, he would toss four loaves into the molder, and then go to pan the bread. It was more than twice as fast with two people. A double batch of bread was 48 loaves, the capacity of one oven, or the proofer.

Bread at the bakery was triple raised: once in the mixer, once on the bench after weighing, and finally in the proofer. This resulted in the springy fresh dough that made the bakery’s fresh dough so popular.

“Have you thought about hiring some help back here so you don’t have such ridiculous hours,” Maria asked as she worked. Yesterday evening they discussed it and Rachael had a Ron-memory of a bakery where high school students worked for a few hours before school on Thursday and Friday, and then a full day on Saturday.

“That might work. I went over the books last night, while the first bread was rising, and found that we can afford some more hours. Not enough for a full experienced baker, which is what we really need. But a couple boys, is possible.”

“You should do it,” Maria said. “You need to stop working so much.”

Geoff laughed. “When I started this place the problem was no sales. Now I have the sales, and the problem is no staff. I also considered getting another girl to help you out front. Mom really should retire entirely, or at most just work lunch hours. If I had another clerk, you could help me back here a lot. I could even have you come in earlier, like 6 a.m., and then the other girl could finish up the end of the day.”

After the bread was in the proofer, and Maria had rolled some of the bun dough into small balls that Geoff would later shape into Parkerhouse, cloverleaf, or dinner rolls, all of which used the same dough, she went to the front.

There she spent an hour setting up the shop. Many items just needed to be placed on the shelves, but there was a lot to do in prep. She had to slice the bread, of course, and that was a job she would be doing all day, as Geoff baked off more batches.

But there were a lot of tasks in finishing the product. Icing was a major one, because you can’t ice when customers are in to be waited on, so Maria liked to get all the iced products done before 9. She also had to arrange her cash float and get the cash register warmed up. It was an older machine Geoff had bought second hand, and it took about 10 minutes to power up, which was a major pain when there was a power outage during the day.

Soon everything was ready. Mrs. Barron no longer came in until 11, when Maria would take a quick break and make Geoff and herself sandwiches, and then go back and make sure he ate. As the workload increased, Geoff had stopped eating lunch, and Maria made it her mission to see he got fed, even if she had to follow him around with his sandwich and make sure he got a bite as he was moving from task to task.

There was the usual rush at 9. There were often three or four customers lined up to get the freshest selection, and she was busy until after 10. Then, during a short lull, she was amazed to see Carol Stanislaw enter the shop. She had worked with Carol at the café until a few years ago, when Carol went on maternity leave.

“Carol,” Maria said gleefully. “So happy so see you.” Then she noticed the glum look on her old friend’s face. “What is wrong?”

“Well, I got called in at the café after you left,” Carol said. “The place really went downhill after they fired you. I tried to help, but everyone said they missed you, and a lot of them started going other places. Callie made some stupid rules too. Like telling the coffee klatch that used to come in that they could only stay for a half hour. I mean, the place was empty without them, and they just stopped coming. There were about 20 of them, and they each spent a couple bucks each during the off times. That was $80 a day between morning and afternoon, six days a week.”

Maria nodded as her friend continued. “Then they did some really dumb things, like stopping orders from here. Callie bought doughnuts and cookies from the grocery store, and bragged at how much cheaper they were. Well people won’t pay a dollar for a packaged doughnut when you can buy a dozen for that price. And since they didn’t sell, they got stale. I bet after the long weekend they are as hard as a rock. And she will still keep selling them.”

“So this morning I went in for my shift, and Callie told me they were letting me go. There isn’t enough business to keep two waitresses. Because I just started a week ago, I don’t get any severance or benefits. I put the baby in daycare for this, and she loves it. Now I’m going to have to take her out again. My salary barely covered the costs, since tips at the café dried up with the crappy food and crappy service.”

“Wait right here,” Maria said. “If anyone comes in, tell them I’ll be back in a second.”

When Maria returned, there were two customers waiting, and Maria asked her friend to wait. Once Maria caught up, she called Carol to come behind the counter. “Your uniform matches mine, so welcome to your new job as junior clerk for the Bread Baron Bakery. You start today, if you want. Minimum wage, and no tips to speak of, but a great boss and a fun working environment. Are you in?”

“Are you serious?” Carol asked, a shocked look on her face.

“Yes. I talked to the boss in the back, and recommended you as a hard worker,” Maria said. “That was enough for him. He was looking for someone anyhow. Now this cash register is a bit finicky. Never, ever turn it off until the day is over …”

* * *

When Rachael got to school, the morning was devoted to working on the project. Mikki had brought in the portable Mac, and for two periods the four girls worked on stitching the scenes they had shot yesterday together. Then they were in what was the history class, and were able to show Mr. Churchill what they had so far. He was flabbergasted, to say the least. Then when they described their plans for the rest of the film, he agreed that they should work until they finished, even if it took all summer. He would mark them with an A for the project in the current state.

“We still hope to finish it by the deadline,” Rachael said. “But it is nice to know that we can continue to polish it up after. I want to show it to the Legion members, and others might want to watch it too.”

Talk at lunch continued to be primarily about the project, and it seemed that the other students, with the exception of one group, were progressing nicely, although none seemed to be as far along as the girls. Neal showed them some of the drawings that he was working on for his group’s animated look at cheese-making in Ingersoll. He was drawing the key frames, and the other boys, including Robert, were doing the in-between cells on the computer. Rachael was amazed at how well Robert could draw. He confided to her that he hadn’t known he had the talent, but in working with Neal, he was getting better and better. He couldn’t draw freehand from just an idea, but he was getting quite good at copying Neal’s work, and making the minor changes that was needed to animate the scene.

Their animation was only going to total five minutes of their film in two spots, but this meant over 5000 cells needed to be drawn. Luckily Robert and Neal both had computers at home to work on. The other boys only could work in class. Neal took about 15 minutes to draw a keyframe, and he could do an in-between in five minutes. Robert took 10 minutes to do an inbetween, while the other boys were closer to 15 minutes. Apparently they had already finished the first 1000 cels, and were working well on the second.

Afternoon was French and Science, so boring for Rachael. At the end of the day, she had to check in at the bakery on the way home to see what the plan was for the night. As the girls walked to the bakery, Marc enthusiastically said they were putting the ice in at the nearby arena, in preparation for the hockey school in July. It would be in on June 24, the week before school let out and public skating was available.

“Can we go skating, Rachael?” Bobby said with his puppy dog eyes.

“I don’t think so, Tiger,” she said. “Skates are very expensive, and I don’t think they rent them out. It is like a hundred dollars a pair, or more.”

“Okay,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. Rachael fell in love with the little boy all over again. No grumbles, no complaints: he just accepted that skating was something only rich kids could do.

“Wait a second,” Mikki said. “Kyle has lots of old skates at home. I bet that one of them would fit Bobby. He could borrow them, and perhaps Kyle will sell him a pair cheap if he likes it. I’ll ask him about it. But what about you, Rachael? One of Kyle’s pairs would probably fit you, but I can’t see you wanting to wear boy’s hockey skates.”

“They are hockey skates?” Bobby started to get excited. He knew that the hockey camp was out of the question, but the fact that he might be able to try out hockey skates thrilled him.

“Yes, but you won’t be playing hockey in them,” Rachael explained. “Boys usually wear hockey skates for just skating, and most girls wear figure skates, which are white, with a little pick at the toe for doing twirls and such. But some girls play hockey, and I’d borrow an old pair of Kyle’s if they fit.”

“Cool. I will check with him,” Mikki said as they arrived at the bakery. The others continued home, while Rachael and Bobby pulled in to the bakeshop. Rachael was surprised to see another woman working the counter. Had something happened?

“My mother told us to meet her here,” Rachael told the clerk. Just then Maria popped in from the back. “Hi Mom.”

“Hi kids,” Maria said. “You have met Carol? She is another refugee from Joe’s café and will be working here from now. Bobby, will you go back and ask Geoff if you can sit in your fort on the flour sacks? Rachael, will you mind watching the shop with Carol? There shouldn’t be many customers at this time: we have sold out of a lot of stuff already. Cookies, pies, a few pastries are all that are left. Bread sold out an hour ago, and your Love bread was gone an hour before that. Geoff and I are going out so I can write my beginner’s permit.”

Soon after they were gone Rachael and Carol were alone in the front of the shop. “How do you like it here,” Rachael asked.

“It is wonderful. And a lifesaver. I got fired on the spot this morning when I went in for work, just after getting daycare set up for my new baby. I came in here just to tell Maria about it, because I worked with her before my mat. leave. And they hired me on the spot. Geoff is so nice, compared to Joe. Always smiling. They make a lovely couple.”

“You see it too?” Rachael said. “Everybody in the world can see that they are perfect for each other, except for themselves. I don’t know what it is going to take for Geoff to smarten up and ask her out?”

“You mean they aren’t dating?” Carol said in amazement. “They act like a married couple.”

“Nope. Although Geoff is always looking for ways to see her, but not as official dates. Tonight he is taking us to the mall to look at bicycle helmets for Bobby. And he gives her driving lessons. But no real, honest dates yet. Not that I haven’t been pushing as much as a kid can. Geoff would be a real dad to Bobby and me. Bobby especially needs a man in his life.”

They chatted for a while, and Rachael popped back to check on Bobby occasionally. He was living his imagination out on the piles of flour. Once it was a fort, but another time it was an airplane over the battlefield, and another time it was the deck of a battleship. She even thought she could tell once when it was a space ship. But every time she had popped back to check on him, she was the enemy, and would be shot by her brother defending his fort/plane/ship. She smiled at his imagination.

Maria and Geoff arrived back about a half hour before closing time, and Maria excitedly showed off her new learner’s driving permit. Rachael suggested that she and Bobby head home to start supper, but Maria said that Geoff had volunteered to take them to the mall, in a trade off for another supper at Maria’s. So Rachael helped with close-up, and they were off to the mall soon after 6.

“Carol, do you need an advance or anything?” Geoff asked, as the new clerk was about to leave. “Maria says you are working out really well, and we need the help. We know that it can mean special expenses when you start a new job. So I’m willing to give an advance of up to $100, if you need it.”

Carol stood stock still, looking stunned. “No, thank you. I can’t believe you offered though. I mean I haven’t even worked enough hours for $100. This is the best place I’ve ever worked. You are so kind, and generous, and it is so nice giving people such wonderful goods. I’m not a single mom like Maria, so money isn’t so tight with us, but … thanks for asking. What time tomorrow?”

“Nine will be fine, since I want to keep you until 6 again the rest of this week,” Maria said. “Eventually I want to have you able to close the store. As you probably noticed, afternoons are slower, and I want to be to start work earlier to help Geoff out,”

After Carol left the other four were in the bakery van, which had a bench front seat to allow Geoff to deliver cakes and such. Rachael sat in the middle, while Bobby sat on Maria’s lap.

“This is illegal,” Maria said as Geoff drove to the mall, showing off the knowledge from her driver’s test.

“Well, we could put Bobby into one of the sacks in the back,” Geoff joked.

“Yes,” the boy shouted. “I want to ride in the sacks.”

“You will stay where you are,” Maria said. “Although on the way home, you might have to wear your new helmet.”

They stopped in the local mall, which had fewer than 100 stores, unlike bigger malls in London or Kitchener. There was a nice Italian family restaurant just off from the food court and Geoff led the group in.

“Such a nice familia,” the proprietor said as he seated them, and Geoff reddened at again being mistaken as the father of the kids. He didn’t correct the man, though.

The meal was wonderful. Rachael had manicotti, while Geoff and Maria both had the lasagna. Bobby stuck to his old stand-by, spaghetti, and said it was good, but Rachael’s was better. Rachael tried a bite of it, and found the sauce a bit spicier than hers. Like most youngsters, he tended to prefer what he was used to. Her bite of Maria’s lasagna was an eye-opener though. It was exquisite, and she decided on the spot to learn how to make lasagna. She wondered if Mrs. Dasilva had any tricks she could share.

As they exited the restaurant, Rachael saw JJ Jackson in the mall, and called out to him and waved. After introducing him to Geoff, the young farmer asked Maria if he could borrow Rachael for the evening. He admitted to needing a woman’s help in choosing a ring for a certain someone. Maria immediately agreed, and he promised to have Rachael home before 10.

Rachael and JJ then went into one of the jewelry stores in the mall, and started looking at the rings.

“You will be wanting a diamond then,” Rachael said, assuming that the ring was for Ruby.

“Yes, but is can’t be a diamond,” JJ said. “She’d throw it in my face. She has this thing about diamonds. Blood diamonds, she calls them: on account of the near slavery that the diamond companies keep their workers in over in Africa.”

“Are you sure?” Rachael said. She had never heard of a woman not dreaming of a diamond from her man. She would have to search blood-diamond the next time she got to a computer.

“Definitely. She likes emeralds and sapphires, or rubies, of course. I really want to stay away from rubies though. I got her one as a friendship ring years ago and I want this to be something special.”

“Can I help you?” a well-dressed woman in a gray suit asked.

“Yes, we are looking for an engagement ring,” JJ said.

“Oh, congratulations,” the woman said, clearly thinking that Rachael would be the bride.

“Oh it isn’t for me,” Rachael clarified. “I’m just 13. I’m dating his younger brother, so he asked me for advice.”

“Oh, I see,” she turned to JJ. “Good idea, seeking a woman’s touch. Now what is your monthly income?”

“My what?” JJ asked.

“Your monthly income,” the woman said with a smile. “It is expected that a groom will pay the equivalent of three months income on a diamond.”

“I am a farmer,” JJ said proudly. “We don’t have incomes. What is three times zero? And besides, I don’t want a diamond. We were thinking sapphire or emerald.”

“No diamond?” the woman sneered. “You do love this woman, don’t you? A diamond is the best way to express your love.”

JJ was just about at his limit with this saleswoman’s condescending attitude. “Come on Rachael, I don’t think this store will have anything we like.”

Out in the mall JJ cooled down. “When she suggested I don’t love Ruby because I won’t buy her an expensive diamond I almost lost it,” JJ said. “Do we try another shop here in the mall?”

“I doubt we’ll do any better,” Rachael said. “These women are all on commission, no doubt, and will do anything to push you into an expensive purchase. I wonder if the little jewelry store downtown would be any better. Probably the salesman there is the owner.”

“Good idea,” JJ said. “We’ll have to let Steve and Peter know. They are in the arcade, I think, and will probably stay there until we get back.”

“Oooh, I wanted to talk to them anyway,” Rachael said.

In the arcade the twins were happy to keep playing while JJ took Rachael downtown.

“I have a favor to ask,” Rachael said. “My mom’s boss is looking for a high school student to come in for a couple hours in the morning, before school, to help with the baking. I wondered if you guys knew of anyone who might be interested.”

“I’d do it,” Steve laughed. “But dad would kill me. But all those free baked goodies …”

“And I’d get all your chores,” Peter said. “No way.”

“I know you guys can’t do it,” Rachael said. “But do you know of anyone who would like to make a few bucks?”

“Doug Northland,” Peter said.

“Yeah, Dougie would do it,” Steve agreed. “Most kids give up their paper routes when they get into high school, but Doug still does a morning route, and a couple weekly ones. And he cuts grass in the summer, and shovels snow in winter.”

“By hand. With a shovel,” Peter said with a shudder. Rachael had seen the big tractor attachment at the farm, and realized that was how the twins cleared snow at the farm.

Rachael got some contact information, and then left the twins to their games as she and JJ headed downtown. Ingersoll is small, so it was less than a five-minute drive from the mall to downtown, and they were able to park right in front of Perlon’s, a jewelry store that had been there for the past 100 years.

As they got to the door they saw the sign reading “Closed” and were about to leave when an elderly man came to the door, clearly going home.

“Sir, can you help us with a ring,” JJ asked.

The man looked startled, until he saw Rachael. Jewel thieves seldom have 13-year-old girls in their gang.

“I’m sorry son,” he apologized. “I’ve locked everything up, and the alarm will go off if we go into the store. Can you come back another day?”

“If we have to. Or if I have to. Rachael won’t be able to come during the day.”

“Perhaps if we buy you a coffee we can pick your brain a bit,” Rachael said. “You make custom jewelry, don’t you?” On the drive downtown she had come up with an idea.

“The best in southern Ontario,” the man said. “I guess I can handle a coffee. There is a nice little café just down the street a bit.”

After they had ordered, Rachael started by pointing out that she was not the bride, so that confusion didn’t recur. And then JJ pointed out Ruby’s dislike for diamonds.

“Well, we could do a Canadian diamond. Polar bear diamonds are especially popular, and we do have a few of them unmounted in the store. These are mined in the North West Territories, and there is a polar bear logo engraved into the diamond itself. You can’t get them anymore, due to some trademark issue, but we have a half dozen of various sizes in stock.”

“No, she is pretty set against diamonds,” JJ said.

“I have an idea,” Rachael said. “JJ here runs a dairy farm, and Ruby, his girlfriend, is in a beef farming family. What about making a ring out of a horn or hoof of a cow?”

“What a great idea.” JJ enthused. “It would be special to us, not to everyone who wants to see a big diamond on her finger.”

“Well, there would be a few problems with a bone ring,” the Jeweller said. “For one thing, rings need to grow. As your beloved ages, her finger size may change. With a metal ring it is easy for me, or another jeweler, to extend the ring. Bone can’t be stretched. And bone isn’t made for ‘forever’ jewelry. You might want to have a granddaughter use grandma’s ring, but bone will only last about 40 years. That is more than enough time for some marriages, but if you expect yours to last longer, bone is not going to cut it. Plus to have sufficient strength, a bone ring would have to be quite thick. Not at all feminine.”

“This marriage will last for a long time,” JJ said with a dreamy look on his face. “I love the idea of having grandchildren with her.”

“But maybe we can make the idea work,” Mr. Perlon said. He started sketching on a napkin with his pen. We could make a shield of bone, and put some acceptable stones on it. The problem of resizing would be gone, since the shield will be on a gold or silver ring base. And if the bone ever did deteriorate, which would be less likely with only an inlay, and not a complete ring, it would be a repair, not a replacement.”

Rachael borrowed the pen and made her own sketch. Instead of a shield, she just drew a rectangle with two circles at either end. Then she drew an infinity symbol around the two gems.

“So this won’t be one bone, but two: one from a dairy cow, and another from a beef cow. They are joined together, the way your marriage will join together the two families. Then the stones: one a sapphire, because you have amazing blue eyes, JJ.”

“I do?” he asked.

“You do. Your brother has the same, and trust me, I’ve looked into them a lot. And Ruby has the most amazing green eyes. So the stones represent the two of you. And finally, the infinity symbol means forever, which is how long this marriage will last.”

“I should hire you to design rings,” the jeweler said. “That is a wonderful, meaningful design. It would work well in either gold or silver.”

“Probably silver,” JJ said. “I am guessing it won’t cost three months salary.”

“Heavens no,” Mr. Perlon laughed. “I’m guessing you were at the mall. You wouldn’t believe how many people I get who have been there, and then are surprised at how nice a diamond they can get here for a reasonable price. It is the love in the relationship that is important, not the size of a chunk of carbon.”

JJ made an appointment to come in and discuss the matter in more detail with the jeweler tomorrow, and then drove Rachael home well before 9 p.m., allowing JJ time to get to the mall and pick up his brothers before it closed.

Rachael got in to find Bobby wearing his new helmet as he darted around the house, pretending he was on a motorcycle. It was a very nice helmet, with a Batman logo on either side, and another on the top.

“That is pretty smooth, Tiger,” Rachael said.

“Geoff bought it for me. Momma was going to buy me a cheaper one, but he picked this one out, and it was just so beautiful,” Bobby chattered. “I was going to say no, because I knew it had to cost too much, and then Geoff said he would buy it for me as an early birthday present. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“It sure is Tiger, but it is past your bedtime, so go and take your bath. Maybe tomorrow Gary will have finished your bike.”

“He will. He said he will,” Bobby said, varooming up the stairs to the bathroom.

Rachael made a phone call, telling Doug Northland about the possible job with the bakery, and then went upstairs to read to her brother. He came out of the bathroom, wearing a dripping helmet.

“Bobby, you didn’t wear your helmet in the bath, did you?” she cried.

“Yes. The man in the store said it was waterproof. It is.”

“That’s for when it rains. Not the bathtub. No more helmet in the bathtub.”

They settled down to read, and when Bobby fell asleep, Rachael went to her room.

Dear Lord

Thank you for another wonderful day. Our film is coming along nicely, and the boys’ cartoon will mean we don’t embarrass the rest of the class. Geoff and momma are getting closer and closer. He didn’t want to disappoint Bobby with a cheap no-brand helmet. That is definite Dad material. And JJ and Ruby are going to get married, it seems. I wish I could be there when he gives her that ring, and explains it to her.

Bless everyone, and let me know if I am doing well.

Amen

As she lay back, she got that familiar tingle that either meant ‘message received’ or ‘good job.’ She still wasn’t sure which.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Remember, I consider kudos and especially comments to be the pay I get for writing these. Please contribute: Dawn

WEDNESDAY, May 25, 2016

Doug Northland rode his sister’s bike in the dark. It was just before 5 a.m., and in an hour or so his sister would have to use his bike, with the big front newspaper carrier, to deliver the papers on his route. It took him over an hour to deliver the newspapers, and would take her at least a half hour more, based on the few times she had done the route for him in the past.

Doug arrived at the bakery, and parked the bike at the rear. He could see a man inside, flitting from one position to another. He went to the back door, and knocked: gingerly at first, and then harder. He realized that equipment was running inside and a small knock would not be heard.

A harried man answered the door. “Yes, can I help you?”

“Rachael … Rachael Cartright said you might be interested in hiring a student to work mornings and Saturdays.”

“Rachael? Come in. I’m a bit busy right now, but we can chat as I work. My name is Geoff.”

“Doug. Doug Northland. What are you doing?”

“Rolling dough for buns,” Geoff said. “Want to try? Take off your jacket and hang it on that hook near the door.”

With that Geoff showed the boy how to roll buns, and soon they moved on to other tasks. As they worked, they chatted, and Geoff felt sorry for the boy, who apparently needed work to help support his mother and sister. His mother took in pre-schoolers in a baby-sitting service, and was limited to how many children she could take before falling under the stricter day-care rules. As a result, money Doug earned helped keep the family solvent.

“When will you decide about the job?” Doug asked after about an hour in which Geoff had shown him many of the tasks involved in baking.

“About a half hour ago,” Geoff said. “You can keep working until 8:30. There is a shower upstairs, so you can clean up before school. I assume you start at 9?”

“On alternate days I start at 9:45. I have a spare first period on those days.”

“Excellent. Those days you can work until 9. Is 5 a.m. too early for you?”

“No sir. I’ll come in earlier, if you need me,” Doug said.

“I probably do, but I think three and a half to four hours is enough for someone going to school. On Saturday I could use you at three a.m., if you are up for it. It will be a full day, at least eight hours.”

“I will be, sir.”

“Rule number one, son,” Geoff said. “My name is Geoff, not sir. Got it?”

“Yes, sir, I mean Geoff.”

“Now, do you need cash? I can pay you an advance for today’s wages. The job pays minimum wage, which is $11.40. It is due to go up by a twenty cents in the fall.”

“I can always use cash,” Doug said.

“I’ll give you an advance of $40. That is a bit more than you have earned today, but you are a good worker, and I think you’ll be back tomorrow, won’t you.”

“Yes sir,” Doug said enthusiastically. He didn’t make much more than $40 all week delivering papers. “I mean Geoff.”

They continued working, and soon Doug saw a pretty blonde lady come into the bakeshop.

“This is Maria,” Geoff said. “Doug has started working mornings for us,” he told Maria.

“Good. You need the help. Perhaps I should start in the front then, if you are training him.”

“Good idea,” Geoff said. Turning to Doug he added: “We also have Carol, who comes in at 9, and my mother, who comes in for a few hours at lunch. And it looks like I might have to add Rachael to the payroll. She is in after school more days than not. Of course you already know her.”

“Only from talking to her on the phone last night,” Doug said. “She doesn’t go to our high school, I think.”

“She will next year,” Maria said. “She is in grade eight right now.”

“Really? She sounded much older on the phone.”

* * * *

Maria spent the morning prepping for opening. Carol showed up at 8:30, causing Geoff to shake his head over his staff always coming in early. Carol got a chance to meet Doug when he came down from his shower. Geoff loaned him an old Rolling Stones t-shirt for school, and told Doug to bring in something clean to wear after his shower in the future. The t-shirt he had been wearing got quite sweaty in the hot and humid bakery.

Carol helped Maria prepare the store, and they opened the door at 8:54, with three customers already waiting. Then it was busy until after lunch again. Maria recognized Bill Strong, one of her former patrons from Joe’s café. He owned a pub downtown and a motel on the outskirts of town, and also was a town councilor. The incubator project that had enabled Geoff and the others to start businesses here had been largely his work.

“Hi Bill, what brings you around here?” Maria said with a smile.

“Tracking you down. Oh, I see Carol is working here too? She will be interested in hearing this too. Apparently Joe’s café is no more. The health inspector was there yesterday morning and closed the place down. Apparently the place was filthy. So today I heard that Joe has left town. The last waitress, his girlfriend apparently, did not go with him. She wants to reopen the place, but really doesn’t have any legal rights to the place.”

“Or the skills to make it work,” Carol commented nastily. “I noticed how dirty it was when I was working there last week. It never used to look like that.”

“That’s because I was always nagging Joe to clean up when he had slow times. I guess Callie had other things for him to do when they weren’t busy.”

“Horizontal things, I’ll bet,” Carol said.

“Anyway, I wonder if I could talk to you for a few minutes?” Bill said. “Is there somewhere close?”

“We could go down to the library. It is fairly quiet down there. I’ll go and let Geoff know that I’m taking 15 minutes.”

It was closer to an hour when she returned. Carol had the store under control, so Maria went straight back to talk to Geoff.

“What was that all about?” Geoff asked.

“Bill Strong was in. He’s thinking about opening a café in the vacant shop next to us.”

“Oh, that would be good. It would fill the strip. For a long time it was just me and the Dasilva’s.

“He offered me a job,” Maria said. “He wants me to manage the place for him.”

“What?” Geoff almost shouted. “I need you.”

“He offered me $1200 a week salary. It’s a lot of money. Even with all the hours I do here I only get about $600. But I love it here,” Maria almost wailed.

“Well at least it will be close. I’ll be able to see you occasionally. I … no, I can’t match that salary, but I can sweeten the pot a bit. “I’ll move your salary to $16 an hour. That is $640 base, and with the overtime you work it should be over $800 a week. Did you accept yet?”

“No. It isn’t something I could decide immediately. I have to talk it over with Rachael, for one thing. She is so sensible on matters like this. I have to think of the kids. If I am manager it will mean more hours, probably. That means less time with the kids. I won’t be using the bus like before, but the hours at the café were terrible, and running a place would be worse. At least now I have time with the kids in the evenings. I need to think about it.”

“Look, I want you to take off early when Rachael comes by. I’ll hang around in case Carol needs help. You will come in tomorrow won’t you?”

“Yes,” Maria giggled. “You can’t open a new restaurant in just a few hours. It would be months before they open the new place. And I will give proper notice.”

“Phew,” Geoff said. “I know that they can’t be open that quick, but Mr. Strong is a mover. If he decides to do something, it will get done. And he will need a manager to help him get the place fitted out and such.”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” Maria said. “And that brings up another point. He wants me to look over some sketches he has drawn up for the café, and a sample menu. He thinks it will take an hour or so.”

“And he thought that your meeting today would take 15 minutes,” Geoff said. “If you decide to work for him, there isn’t much I can do about it. But if you are still thinking of staying, then I will give you the afternoon off. Mom can come in to help.”

“You are a doll,” Maria said, and then impulsively leaned over to kiss Geoff on the cheek. Geoff’s eyes widened, and Maria sprang back, wondering if she had overstepped some bounds. Neither said anything for a moment, and just then they could hear Rachael’s voice in the bakeshop.”

“I should see her,” Maria said clumsily.

“Yes,” Geoff said. “And take the rest of the day off, like I said.”

Rachael and Bobby had left the others when they came into the bakeshop, and after Maria explained about the job offer, the three Cartrights headed home. They could barely see the others several blocks ahead. That was fine, Maria wanted to talk, which they did until they reached Grandpa’s house.

“Next week we will be home by now,” Rachael said as they dropped in to visit the old man. Bobby went next door to see if his four-legged friends were home. Maria sat and told grandpa about the job offer. She admired the old soldier, and respected his opinion. And he was less tactful than Rachael had been on the walk home.

“You like this man?” Grandpa asked.

“Yes. Geoff is the best boss I’ve ever had,” Maria answered.

“I don’t mean like that. You love him, don’t you?”

Maria sputtered. “I … well … he is my boss. I can’t …”

“You can do whatever your heart wants, my girl,” Grandpa said. “If it leads to something else, so be it. But I think you love him. And I know he loves you. He is just too damned afraid to say it. I saw him at dinner with you on Sunday. He adores you.”

“As an employee …” Maria started.

“As a woman,” Grandpa cut her off. “A damned fine woman at that. You are pretty, shapely, and have a good head on your shoulders. Any man who isn’t attractive to that is probably one of those gay fellers.”

Maria looked at Rachael, who shrugged her shoulders. “I was thinking the same thing,” she told her mom. “We just have to get Geoff to ask you out. Once he kisses you, it will be game over for him.”

“I kissed him today,” Maria confessed.

“What?” Rachael almost shouted. “When? Why? Was it good?”

“He was just being his normal sweet self, offering me time off to work things out, thinking of me instead of himself. I just kissed him on the cheek. It kinda surprised us both. He didn’t run away screaming, or yell at me. And I kinda liked it. I wished there could be more.”

“There can,” Rachael said. “There will be. I’m going to call him and have him come to dinner tonight.”

“He has to sleep,” Maria protested.

“No, he will be helping Carol closed with you not there, He will be ready for a quick meal. Do you think we could have it here? Grandpa needs some attention before we all move in on him. A dinner here would help him get used to the chaos.”

“But what about my bike?” Bobby asked having just returned from his romp with Mrs. Lajoie’s dogs.

Rachael slapped her head. “I forgot all about that, Bobby. Look. You and I will go to the old house. You’ll get your helmet and I’ll make up a package of things I need to cook at Grandpa’s. Then you and I will go to the church and see if Gary has finished your bike. If he is, I suppose you will want to ride it over to show Marc, right?” Bobby nodded. “I’ll bring the things back for supper, and you can visit Marc. But I don’t want you riding all over town. You stay on our street, okay? After you get a bit more experience with the bike you and the boys can ride around a bit further.”

“Remind me again, which one of us is his mother?” Maria said in wonderment as Rachael had given Bobby such sound parental advice again.

“You stay and keep Grandpa company,” Rachael told her. “Text Geoff and get him to come here for dinner.

Rachael and Bobby were at the church, and found Gary inside polishing the pews again, even though they were spotless. He smiled when he saw them, and led them out to the shed. Inside, he pulled out a beautifully restored classic 1970s bicycle, looking like it just came from the store.

Bobby’s eyes lit up seeing the bike. “It is beautiful,” he said in a whisper. He pulled on his helmet and let Gary help him up onto the bike. He circled around twice, and on the second pass yelled “I’m going to Marc’s. See you later.”

“Don’t you have something to say to Gary, Bobby?” Rachael called after him. He turned around and made another big circle back, stopping in front of Gary and hopping off. Rachael held the bike as Bobby gave Gary a huge hug, saying: “Thanks so much, Gary. You are the best Fixer ever. I love you.”

He then hopped back on the bike and rode off. Rachael looked at Gary, who had a tear in his eye. “That all makes it so worthwhile,” he said softly to Rachael. “I was nothing a month ago, and now I am important. A little boy loves me. His smile when he saw the bike for the first time just filled me with pleasure. And then when he hugged me …” Gary choked up, and Rachael patted his back.

“That’s alright, Gary,” she said soothingly. “Perhaps one day you will have a son of your own to fix things for.”

“No,” Gary said adamantly, “I had my chance. I had a wife, and a business and a family and I let it all slip away to the bottle. I’ll just be happy helping others. Love has passed me by.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Rachael said. “You might get a second chance. It happens.”

She then left the ecstatically happy caretaker, and headed back to the old house to pick up her groceries to take to Grandpa’s. He had most of the basics, since she had been doing his shopping on weekends for him. She thought about taking one of Keri Peter’s chickens, but knew that she wouldn’t have time to marinade it. Then she put it in the bag anyway, planning to make another meal there on Thursday or Friday. Tonight she would do a ham she had in the fridge that just needed warming up.

Back at the house, she went straight to the kitchen, and started preparing a meal. She knew that Geoff wouldn’t stay late, so she wanted to have the meal ready when he got there. As she worked, she recounted the touching scene at the church for Grandpa and Maria.

“He certainly is a changed man from what he was a few weeks ago,” Maria said. “I remember giving him a roll for sweeping, and he was so grateful, claiming that he was working for his angel. Now he is an important part of the church community.”

“He just needed a mission: something to do with his life: a focus. At first it was just keeping the street swept and litter free. Now it is the church,” Rachael said.

“Do you know he still comes and sweeps the street at sunup? Geoff has seen him out there at 5 a.m. He has us give him the staff discount when he comes into the shop. He never buys sweets, but likes Love bread and the rolls I used to give him,” Maria said.

Bobby came back soon after. He had impressed Jerry and Marc with his new bike. “Jerry said it was better than the new ones,” Bobby enthused. He parked the bike at the back of the house. Soon Geoff appeared at about a quarter after six.

“Have you made up your mind yet?” he asked Maria, but it was Rachael who interrupted.

“That can wait till after we eat,” she said. “Dinner first, then business. We have some ideas.”

That last statement left Geoff looking confused. He fully expected Maria to resign. She had to think of her family, and so much money …

After grace they all ate healthily, and when Maria and Rachael had finished clearing the table the three sat down around it again, with Grandpa and Bobby in a chair, reading.

“We see a third option to consider,” Rachael led off. “This is one option that you probably haven’t considered. What about making Mom a partner in the bakery?”

“What?” Geoff was taken aback. “You mean give her half of the business?”

“I think to make it legal she would have to buy her half for a dollar,” Rachael said. “But the key is that she would no longer be an employee. I know you have a thing against dating your employees. Would you also refuse to date a partner?”

Geoff thought about it, and suddenly he saw it and his eyes lit up. “That’s brilliant. We could date, and … maybe more.”

“We all hope for more,” Rachael continued. “But you know Mom well enough that if things don’t work out the way we all want them to, she would sell her half of the bakery back to you. She wouldn’t cheat you out of your life’s work.”

“That means she isn’t taking the restaurant job?”

“She can’t, if she is part owner of a bakery.” Rachael said.

“What do you think about all this,” Geoff said to Maria.

“I’ll show you what I think,” Maria said, and stepped up to Geoff and kissed him on the lips. For a few seconds he was in shock, but then he relaxed and soon was kissing back just as ardently as she was kissing him.

After a minute or two Rachael made them break it up. “Okay, you two need to think this through. Geoff has to get a few hours sleep before morning, and Mom needs to settle down too.”

With that Geoff walked back to the bakery, while the Cartrights spent another hour with Grandpa. Rachael helped him out of his day clothes and into pajamas, noting that soon she would be doing this every day for him. He was grateful. His gnarled old hands were not very handy with shirt buttons. She had been doing his laundry for a few weeks now, and he loved having a clean, freshly-made bed to climb into at night. “I’ll bet they don’t treat the old men like this in those old folks homes,” he said as she kissed him goodnight.

“No, but they don’t have the love for you that we do,” Rachael told him before turning out the light as she left.

Back at the old house Rachael read to Bobby before going to bed. She then went to sit with her mother, who was in the living room.

“So, was there any spark?” she asked.

“Spark? Between Geoff and I? You would need a power plant to generate what I was feeling. And I think he felt the same. Do you really think it will work?”

“I hope so Momma. You need someone, and I think you have found him. I’m sure there will be some hurdles to overcome. And I know he will be a great dad for me, and especially for Bobby. Take it a day at a time. I mean, you still haven’t had an official date yet.”

Yes, that will have to be on a Saturday night, when he can stay up late. And me too. Now that I’m starting to work earlier mornings, I need my sleep. I think I will turn in now.”

Dear Lord

Please let Geoff and Momma get together. They are so perfect … it is like you made them for each other. Let Bobby be safe with his new bike. It is a huge thing for him to be able to spread his wings and explore the town with his pals. He is growing up, and I’m proud of him. And bless everyone else too.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Thanks for all the kudos and comments on the last chapter. They really do inspire me: Dawn

THURSDAY, May 26, 2016

Love bread makes bakery a success

Doreen Stein, Times Columnist

When it was approved by council almost two years ago, some called it Strong’s Folly. A strip of six small shops had become town property due to back taxes owing. Almost half the council wanted the building sold to a developer, but councilor Bill Strong fought to have the town retain the ownership of the property and use the strip as the base for the new west-end library branch. Critics said that it would be a boondoggle for the community for years.

Guess what? It isn’t. The library opened over a year ago, and has steadily been growing in support. There has been a spike in usage recently, as middle school students have taken to having weekly film nights there on Thursday nights. It provides the kids with a safe place to watch a DVD film from the library catalog. Parents and students both are thrilled by the idea.

And the rest of the strip? The part that they said would be vacant for years? Well, there are already four businesses operating there, and Councilor Strong says that a fifth and final shop is soon to come online. There is a beauty shop that caters to the younger women and schoolgirls. It seems to be booked several days ahead at all times. An art gallery next to it features the work of a local artist, as well as work brought in from Toronto artists. It just opened, but the owners say they are pleased with the sales.

The first property to be leased was an Italian fruit market and deli, with a selection of cold cuts and custom cheeses that isn’t available elsewhere in the city, along with of fruits and vegetables that remind me of Kensington Market in Toronto. It is run by the Dasilva family, recent immigrants to Canada who are already making a mark in the town retail sector.

But today we look at the Bread Baron (cute name), operated by Geoff Barron, who worked in a bakery in London for 12 years before deciding that Ingersoll needed a family bakery. He and his mother ran the shop alone for several months, although recently he has hired staff. He had to. The sales demanded it, as more and more people have discovered this little corner of heaven in our town.

One item that I have become addicted too is Love Bread. Last week one of our advertising sales representatives came in with a small ad for the bakery, containing a poem about one of their breads. Originally called Seven Grain bread, it got the new name when a bakery clerk’s daughter decided it was Love bread, made with Love as the main ingredient. The poem was cute (look for it elsewhere in the paper) so I decided to stop in at the bakery that evening to try it.

Big mistake. There were so many alluring smells that I spent the better part of $20. The bread is just a bit over $3, but there were doughnuts, cookies, brownies, Danish pastries, French pastry, and dinner rolls. Even though I spent a twenty, it would have cost as much in the grocery store.

You see low prices are not part of the Bread Baron marketing plan. Instead they promote fresh baking at a reasonable price. The young lady at the counter actually talked me out of buying two loaves of the bread, suggesting that it tastes best the day it was made. She said that it came out of the oven less than three hours earlier. Compare that to Toronto-made bread that spends hours on a truck, and days on the shelf.

To make a long story short, my family went wild over the goodies. My kids formerly would eat nothing other than white Wonder Bread. I cajoled them into trying Love Bread (by promising the aforesaid Danish pastries for dessert as a bribe). Well, if anyone wants a half loaf of Wonder Bread, let me know. My kids will no longer eat anything but Love Bread.

No wonder (no pun intended, although it does work well). Love bread tastes as close to cake as bread can. It makes an ideal sandwich (guess what, the kids now want to take a Love sandwich to school instead of eating in the cafeteria). But when it is fresh out of the oven the way it was when I tasted it, it is divine. No butter needed, no meat: nothing but pure bread. The only shortcoming I have with the bread is that there are only two end slices. In my family, a loaf of ends would be perfect.

So guess what? I have been at that bakery every day since. (Curse them for not opening on Sunday). When I asked for two loaves the next day, the girl at the bakery again warned me that the bread isn’t quite as tasty on the second day. Your inquiring reporter asked what it tastes like on the third day, and she looked quizzically at me and said: “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of it being around that long.”

She was joking of course, but said there were no preservatives in the bread, so it will only last for a few days before starting to go stale. If that happens, she recommends French toast. I told her I needed two loaves because my family had suddenly become bread eaters, and it was going to be a daily purchase. And I am glad that it is Love bread they are eating, and not a load of preservatives.

Now I know my column has more than a few readers, so this is a warning. They can only make so many loaves of Love bread a day. I recommend shopping in the morning or phoning in an order. If you wait until after 3 p.m. the bakery starts to sell out, and they prefer it that way, so the shelves can be filled with fresh stock in the morning.

(Doreen Stein writes weekly for the Times on things around and about Ingersoll.)

Geoff stood up after reading the article. “You say this was yesterday’s paper?” he asked Doug.

“Yes Geoff. I delivered over 300 of them last night after school, and I know the rest of the town was getting them too,” the boy said. “Mom reads the paper when I am delivering, and she told me about it when I got home. Pretty neat, isn’t it?”

“It sure is, but I’ll bet it means we get swamped with business today. We’ll have to add some more batches of Love bread into the schedule somehow. I think we can hold off on making pies for another day. And maybe we will drop one of the batches of white bread. Is this the day you can work until 9:30?”

“Actually, I could work for you the entire day,” Doug suggested. “I don’t have anything special today. I could skip classes and pick it up from my friends.”

“I dunno. I don’t like the idea of you missing class. But perhaps just once. I’ll have to talk to your Mom about it.”

“She gets up at 7,” Doug said.

“Okay, I’ll call her. And I want to warn you, there is going to be a little ceremony in here at about 8:30. I want you to keep an eye on the ovens while it is happening. Okay?”

Maria arrived at work at 7, earlier than ever, and when Geoff tried to tease her, she pointed out that as a partner she got to choose her own hours. She read Doug’s paper and immediately realized that the bakery was going to be slammed with customers.

“Oh, my. Do you think we can handle it?” she asked. The Cartright’s had gotten their paper at the old house, and grandpa tended to read his on Thursday mornings, so she hadn’t seen the article yet.

“I’m about to go call Doug’s mom. He suggested that he could skip today to help out. But I need her permission,” Geoff said.

“Of course,” Maria said, wondering if there was some way she could get ahold of Rachael to come in. Since her ‘incident’ last month, she had been doing well in school and could handle a missed day. She would be able to help Carol in the front, and that would save Mrs. Barron, who didn’t handle the stress of a busy store well at all, from having to come in.

Carol came in at 8:30, and then, to Maria’s surprise, Bobby and Rachael were there a few minutes later. Apparently Geoff had told them to walk in for some reason.

The reason soon became apparent, Geoff went up to Maria in the center of the bakeshop holding a doughnut. He got down on one knee and said: “Maria Cartright, I fell in love with you the first time I met you. My love for you has grown since then, and continues to grow as I find out what an incredible woman you are. Would you do the honor of marrying me?” He held out the doughnut. “I haven’t had a chance to buy a ring, so this will have to do for now. I promise we will pick out something nicer later. Especially as I expect Bobby to eat this on the way to school.”

“I accept,” Maria said. “It is so sudden, but I feel I have known you for years. It feels right. Yes, I will marry you: although not today. We are going to be too darned busy.”

With that he put the doughnut on her finger, and then stood to kiss her. The kiss lasted a long time, and both parties seemed to be enjoying it. It was only broken when Doug announced: “Bread’s ready.”

Geoff swung into action, and started unloading the bread as Doug slipped on gloves to rack the hot bread as it came out of the pans. Bobby then came up to his mom. “Do I really get to eat the doughnut?”

“Yes love, you do. That way I will always have it near me: in your tummy. Carol will put some icing on it, and then you need to get to school. Do you think you can walk in alone today?”

“Sure, I know the way really good now,” he said.

“What? I can take him.” Rachael said.

“Would you stay here and help out?” Maria said. “Just this once. Carol is going to need help up front, and I will be needed here in the back.”

“Sure,” Rachael said. “Let me text Mikki and let her know. I already told her I would miss the bus, but would meet her at school. Oh, and tonight is movie night. I think I will tell them I will pass on it. I’ll be pretty tired after a day working. And Robert couldn’t come anyway, although I think he just wasn’t interested in seeing West Side Story. Maybe I can text Carly to take over and be in charge. She will like that. I collected the money for the treats yesterday, and gave it to Tony.”

“Great. Let’s let Bobby out the front door, and see if any people are … Oh my.” Maria saw a line of at least 10 people out front, and it was still 20 minutes before 9.

She let Bobby out the door, and the boy smacked his lips on his doughnut as though it was scripted. “Come in, come in,” Maria said to the waiting crowd. “We normally open at 9 sharp, but I think we are in for a busy day. We don’t have everything out yet, but if you wait it will come. I recognize some familiar faces, but there are a lot of new ones too. Welcome to Bread Baron, the best bakery in town. I hope you will enjoy our goods as much as our regular customers do.”

Carol and Rachael immediately were swamped at the counter, and were filling orders as fast as the old cash register could handle it. Maria finished stocking the shelves with goods, and slicing the bread. Carol was still afraid of the bread slicer and its 24 sharp knives.

Later in the day, when new bread came out, Rachael ran the slicer. Geoff had a new batch of Love bread coming out every hour until 2 p.m. and at times as soon as Rachael sliced and bagged a loaf, Carol took it and sold it to a customer.

Maria was busy on the phone for much of the day. People would call in with orders, and she took the orders and packaged them up. All were billed to credit cards, so there was no problem worrying about no-shows.

At 1 p.m. Bill Strong came in to meet with Maria, and she had to beg off, rescheduling for a Sunday meeting. As a businessman, Bill understood the need to cater to customers, so was happy to delay the meeting.

It was two p.m. when Geoff came out and found the bakery still packed with people. “That was the last 96 loaves,” he announced. “It looks like there will be enough for everybody else here, although I’m not sure about any latecomers.” He looked around his shop, and saw that all the other goodies were gone. Even the pies he had hoped to stretch for another day were gone.

It was just after 3 when the last of the Love Bread was gone, and Carole and Rachael were able to take a breath. Bobby came in soon after, and set up camp on his flour sack fort.

For the last three hours of the day, it was just serving the people who had made phone orders. Jeff was making pies, and at a quarter to 5 Maria brought the last order out to the woman who had called for it, and made a sign on the computer that said “SOLD OUT. Come Again tomorrow.”

She put it on the door, along with the closed sign. But they didn’t lock the door, and took orders for tomorrow from the few people who still came in, thinking the sign couldn’t possible mean them.

The door was locked at 6, and the girls had most of the cleaning up done. It was much easier when there was no items on the shelves to be taken to the back. Rachael showed Carol how to run the end-of-day summary on the cash register, and handed it to Geoff. His eyes went wide as he read the total. He then went to the cash register and opened it, pulling out the huge stack of 20s.

“Each and every one of you went above and beyond,” he announced. “We are all exhausted, and to make you all feel a little better, here is a bonus.” He peeled off $60 and handed it to each of them. When he came to Rachael he noted: “We will put you on payroll now, so you will get a paycheck on Tuesday just like everyone else. If you want, we can give you some regular hours after school, helping Carol close up.”

He then went to Maria, and peeled off another five 20s. “I couldn’t do this without you,” he said lovingly.

“Damned right you couldn’t” Maria said jokingly. “And put that money back in the till. I’m a partner now, and I don’t get a bonus like the staff. Besides, I’ve emptied the cash register three times already today, so I have way more money than that back in the lunch nook.”

“Lunch?” Rachael said. “Did any of us get lunch? We have cold cuts in the fridge. Do we have any bread?”

“I put a loaf away for the family, but we can sacrifice it for the good of the team.” She and Rachael made sandwiches for everyone, with Geoff, Bobby and Doug each eating two. Doug was thrilled. He had only worked two days, and he will be able to give his mother another $60 tonight … a total of $100 over the two days. That was his monthly goal from delivering newspapers and cutting lawns. Plus they were feeding him today.

“So thanks again, everyone,” Geoff said as Carol and Doug were ready to leave. “I guess I have an hour or two or work reconciling credit cards and doing the cash. See you all tomorrow at your regular times. You will only be going ‘til 8:30 Doug. Get some sleep.”

“And you are wrong again, mister,” Maria said when they had left. “You are going to spend the next half hour teaching me how to do the credit cards and cash. And you are going straight to bed. You need to do all this again tomorrow, without as much help.”

“Well, I do have Kyle coming in for a couple hours tomorrow, and Doug will be able to help train him. I hope he is half the man Doug is. Saturday I will have them both for the full day. Can Rachael work Saturday?”

“I wish I could,” Rachael said. “But we are filming out at the gravel pit for our project early, and I have an appointment with the pastor at 10 a.m.”

“Well, that is okay. Mom was saved from this today, so maybe she can help a bit on Saturday,” Geoff said.

Rachael and Bobby walked to Grandpa’s, where Rachael had a chicken marinating. Maria followed more than an hour later, and she just slumped in her chair. “That was more tiring than a full day at the café,” she noted. “I can’t believe the money we took in today. But it will kill Geoff if we can’t get him more help.”

“Something has to turn up. Can he advertise for an experienced baker?” Rachael asked.

“We will have to, but that will still take a couple weeks. Tomorrow is going to be hardest, without you and Doug for the whole day. You guys made it bearable today. And Saturday will be okay, with both Doug and Kyle coming in for the whole day. With them in the back I will be able to work with Carol in the front.”

“I wish I could help,” Rachael said. “Maybe I should stop scheduling things on Saturday’s. Although Robert did tell me that they would like all of us out at the farm on Friday night.”

“Tomorrow?” Maria said in alarm.

“No, the following Friday,” Rachael said. “Will you guys still be super busy?”

“I hope not,” Maria said. “I suspect that as people forget the article in the paper, it won’t be so busy. We should get a lot of new customers though. But hopefully they won’t want to all come in on the same day.”

“Good. I have an idea that JJ is giving Ruby a ring on Friday, and he wants us there. Somehow we have already become family to them. Is there any idea on when Geoff is going to get you a ring? I mean other than a doughnut one?”

Maria burst out with a short laugh. “When will he ever get out of the bakery long enough to shop?” she said. “I suspect he will be skipping out on church this Sunday too. He can’t make bread on Sunday. It would be too stale on Monday. But there are a lot of other things that we are running out of that he will need to catch up on. People are coming in for the bread, but then they see all the other goodies, and buy them as well. We will be completely wiped out by Saturday, I’m sure.”

“Momma, I know you promised to come to church with me on Sundays, but if you want to work on Sunday with Geoff, I’m okay with that. It is a special situation, and you have come with me every other Sunday.”

“Are you sure honey? I know how important church is to you. And to tell you the truth it has become important to me too. But if I’m there with Geoff, it is more like we really are partners. And it might mean he can get a full night’s sleep on Saturday instead of the four hours he’s been getting lately. Oh dear, I have to meet with Bill Strong then too. I’ll text him to come to the bakery. We can meet in the lunch nook.”

Grandpa had a good supper. The other three didn’t eat as much, due to the sandwiches they had at the bakery. Bobby did manage to eat the two chicken legs, which he loved, as well as the other small portions that Rachael put on his plate.

Once the dishes were cleared, the family sat around Grandpa’s living room, although it was only a few minutes later that Maria started snoring on the sofa. This made Grandpa ready for bed early, and Rachael took him up to his room and helped him get into bed.

“Bobby, will you stay here with Momma?” she said when she got back downstairs. “I’m going back to the old house to get some clothes for Momma to wear to work tomorrow. She might as well sleep here tonight. There already is a bed made up for her in what will be her room after we move. And it is a shorter walk to the bakery in the morning from here. I suspect she will go in pretty early. I told Grandpa not to worry if he heard her in the morning.”

Rachael headed to the old house and picked up clothes and Maria’s coffee mug and brought them back to Grandpa’s house. She then roused her mother and led her upstairs to her room, where she helped the still-groggy woman into her nightclothes and into bed. Doing so, Rachael was again amazed at how beautiful her mother was. Geoff has no idea of what a treat he is going to get, she thought.

As she walked out of the bedroom, she heard her mother say: “Thank you Momma. I love you?”

“I love you too,” Rachael said, then realized that her sleepy mother must be in a dream and thought it was her mother who had put her to bed.

Downstairs Bobby was ready to head back to the old house. In late spring the days were getting long, but it was full dark as they headed home. Bobby was thrilled to be walking home in the dark, with the streetlights creating patterns as they walked. He noted that his shadow would grow longer and longer as they walked away from one light, and then there would be a second shadow behind that grew shorter and shorter as they neared the next light. Finally they were home.

It was still a bit before Bobby’s bedtime, so they read a bit of Harry Potter in the living room, and then Bobby had his bath. After a short read in Bobby’s bed he was asleep, and Rachael felt a need to have an evening bath as well, after all the running she had done all day. Then she also was ready to crawl into bed.

Dear Lord

Thank you for making the bakery so popular. It is a lot right now, but I trust Momma and Geoff will make it work. And especially thank you for making Geoff decide to propose. I’m gonna have a Daddy. Bobby is going to have a Daddy for the first time. And we already love Geoff, so it is perfect. We have a real family. Five of us, counting Grandpa. You are so special, Lord. I thank you for everything you do for me. For us.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Another chapter, setting up for the busy Saturday that is coming: Dawn

FRIDAY, May 27, 2016

Somehow the old house just felt odd, knowing that Maria was not there when the kids woke in the morning. There were several text messages from Maria, who said she went into the bakery at four a.m. and was already helping Geoff stock up the shelves for the anticipated rush of customers. Rachael texted back that they were both up and getting ready for school.

On the bus, Rachael updated Mikki and the other girls about her busy ‘day off.’ The news that Geoff proposed to Maria drew the expected squeals from the other girls. It was Larissa who asked if that meant that Rachael would be changing her last name from Cartright to Barron.

“I really hadn’t thought about it,” she said. “I guess I will. I don’t feel anything special for the other man, after he ran out on us. And I bet Geoff would be honored to know that we want to take his name. I will have to talk it over with Bobby. Both of us should do the same thing. I know Momma will want to become a Barron. She is crazy in love with the guy.”

The morning was for project work, and Rachael tried to work extra hard to make up for missing yesterday afternoon’s session. Part of the morning was working on the video files. There was a surprising amount of things that needed to be done, and Mikki was a firm taskmaster on quality. A few times when she decided that what the others were doing was not up to par, she redid bits, and the girls learned from their mistakes. It didn’t stop them from making new ones, but all three of them were slowly becoming experts with the software.

The second part of the class had the four of them planning the shoot on Saturday. Mikki was in charge of this, and she called for a 5 a.m. start to take advantage of the morning light. Carly and Larissa groaned at this, but Rachael was secretly pleased. That meant that most of the shooting might be done by 10 a.m., when she had her appointment with the pastor. He was planning to apologize to Paul and John for what he had said in church two weeks earlier. She reminded the others that she would have to leave then, and apologized for not pulling her weight.

“Don’t be silly,” Mikki said. “You wrote the entire script yourself. And you arranged for all the volunteers for my actors. This part is my baby, and Carla and Larissa have done most of the on camera work. Nobody has been shirking.”

“It wasn’t hard getting the actors,” Rachael said. “I just mentioned it to one of the guys at the Legion, and they put out the word. I guess there were dozens who wanted to participate, and it largely went down to those who would fit into the old uniforms that were donated. The actors are mostly descendants of veteran’s.”

“You know what would be cool,” Carly said. “What if at the end, instead of just a long list of names for the actor credits, we could have each boy at the cenotaph? First we show him, and then we show him putting his finger on the name of his grandfather or other relative.”

“That would be great,” Mikki said. “The local people would love it. We might have to patch in a more conventional cast list if we want to enter any competitions. But I bet the local people will watch all the credits if we do them that way. And it gives the actors more glory for their part.”

“We could do all the credits that way,” Rachael suggested. “Instead of just saying ‘Supported by Legion Branch 119, we could show a picture of the Legion building, with all the members outside who helped us. And the guy who is lending us the use of the gravel pit tomorrow. Even Mr. Churchill as our advisor.”

“I can get a picture of my Uncle in France, for the shots he took, along with anyone else there who helped,” Larissa said.

At lunch, Rachael finally caught up to Robert. She had texted him yesterday explaining that she was going to be away: they were kinda boyfriend/girlfriend and she felt the need to keep in touch. But now she could explain what she had been doing. She also wanted to find out about next Friday. Robert wasn’t aware of anything happening, but was glad that Rachael was coming to dinner. He hadn’t met Geoff yet, and since he was going to be Rachael’s father, that caused all kinds of anxiety in the boy.

Halfway through lunch Rachael went to the staff room, and asked for her French and Science teachers. Science was going to be a review of the past month’s work in preparation for exams next month, and her teacher told her what part of the text was covered, and agreed to let her have the afternoon off.

Her French teacher also agreed to let her off for the afternoon. It didn’t hurt that Rachael made the request in her flawless French, which was slightly better than the teacher’s. Then she headed over to the public school, and found Bobby playing ball with the boys. He was waiting for a turn to bat when she came by, and agreed to walk to the bakery himself, or with Mikki and Larissa, when they came to get Marc.

Then Rachael headed to the bakery. She still felt bad that she wouldn’t be helping on Saturday. As she approached, she could see that there was a lineup to get into the bakery, so she stopped in at the library, to see how the film night had gone without her. The girls on the bus had said it was a good night, but she wanted to touch base with the librarians.

Both Heather and Agnes were in the library, which was busier than other times in the past. Heather, who had worked the night before, said that the film night was fine, although the washrooms had not been cleaned. Rachael groaned. The first few nights she had cleaned them. The boys, especially, often had poor aim.

“Don’t worry about it,” Rachael, Heather said in response to her apologies. “We didn’t have anyone using the rooms today, and the cleaner will get it tonight. But it could have been embarrassing if we had had a meeting scheduled up there.”

Heather then had to turn aside to check out patrons, but her boss Agnes stepped in. “We have been so busy yesterday and today. The entire strip has been. Something is going on down at the bakery, and everyplace is busier. We have gotten some nice spill off from it.”

Tony had told Rachael during lunch that the deli had enjoyed its best day since opening on Thursday, and Saturday’s are normally the best days.

“Yes, I guess everyone is benefitting from that story in the paper last week,” Rachael said.

“I did need to talk to you about how long the movie series would go on,” Agnes asked. “I’m making up the annual budget for the library, and need to be able to forecast usage.”

“Well, we would like to do two more in June, I think. The June 23 is pretty close to the last day of school on the 24th, so I think we will pass on that. But I do want to start up again in September, when we are in high school. Do you have a calendar?”

Looking at the calendar, Rachael suggested that September 15 might be a good date to get the series started again.

“What about the Grade 8 classes?” Agnes asked. “Would they like to do a film night too?”

“Yes. Some have already been asking about a Grade Seven night. They will definitely be interested in it by September. Why? Do you want us to take turns?”

“No, no. You get the first call. It was your idea. But I could put another three evening hours into the budget proposal and have another opening for the films. We could let the next year Grade Eights have the other night,” Agnes said. “We have had a lot of good comments from parents, who like the idea of their kids getting into dating in a safe, low-cost environment.”

“Well, if you were to add a Friday night, then the Grade Nines would prefer it. It is more of a dating thing if it is a weekend. Then maybe you could add another night the next year, when we are in Grade 10. That would be cool for a Saturday night,” Rachael said. “I don’t think we would need it for older grades though. By Grade 11 the kids have cars and licenses and many have jobs and can afford the real theatre.”

“That is really useful information,” Agnes said. “I’m pretty sure we can get Friday nights for you in September. I will also make a pitch for Saturday nights, but that will mean not opening on Monday mornings, or something.”

“One more thing,” Rachael asked. “Can I go out through your back door? I need to go to the bakery, but I don’t want to butt in front of the people standing there waiting to get in.”

“Certainly, dear, let me show you through,” Agnes said, leading to the back door.

“Rachael,” Geoff said when she popped in the back door of the bakery. “What are you doing here?”

“School was boring,” she said. “I figured you guys would just be sitting around playing cards or something, so I thought I would join in.”

“I said you weren’t to miss school,” Geoff said, putting on a great ‘Dad’ face.

“I checked with my afternoon teachers, and they both said it was okay. I just have to study up a bit on Sunday for Science. And I know you need the help.”

“How long for more Love bread?” Maria said, popping out of the store. “Rachael, what are you doing here?”

“Helping?” she suggested.

“Then get up front and help Carol,” Maria said. “Mrs. Barron needs to take a break … or better yet, go home. She’s been a big help, but it is a bit much on her.”

The elderly woman (Rachael suddenly realized that she would soon be her grandmother) looked relieved when Rachael took the next customer and told her to head home. Rachael then started working with Carol, and slowly they were able to get customers moving through the store. The store never emptied, but eventually there were no longer people lined up outside.

Rachael had come in at 1, and after 3 Bobby came in, hoping for a cookie but finding the cookie shelf completely empty. Rachael handed him a dollar and told him to head to Dasilva’s for an apple. Ten minutes later he was back, happily munching an apple, and handed Rachael the dollar before heading to the back.

“Mrs. Dasilva said it was free, on account of all the customers they have been getting from people waiting for the bakery,” he said as he walked through to go to his flour sack fort.

That gave Rachael an idea, although it was another hour before she could work on it. When the store slowed down enough, she went to the computer in the lunch nook, and started typing as Carol started the cleaning duties.

Soon the printer had spit out several pages. The first read:

To make your Love bread into a real meal, stop by at Dasilva’s just down the block. They feature specialty cheeses, cold cuts, and fruits and vegetables: everything you need to make your own special Ingersoll Sandwiches

The second said:

This is Queenie. She lives on the Jackson farm on RR 2. She and her daughters are among the top Holstein herds in Canada. And their milk is used to make the butter that is in so many of our fine baked goods. Thank Queenie when you savor your baking.

The page had a picture of Queenie’s head that Rachael had taken on her second visit to the farm.

A third page read:

All eggs used in our baking (and it is dozens and dozens every day) come from the Peter’s poultry farm on RR 2. Their chickens live in humane conditions rather than the battery cages where chickens producing grocery store eggs are raised. This also had a picture of several hens from Keri Peter’s barn.

Rachael took them back to Geoff and Maria, who where holding hands while waiting for a batch of cookies to come out. “Look Geoff,” she said. “Can I put these up around the store? It will give people something to read while they are waiting to get to the counter?” She spread the three pages out in front of them.

“These are great Rachael,” Geoff said. “We need to do one for our flour too. It comes from Arva Flour Mills just outside of London. I bet if we call them, they can give us the name of some farmers in the area who supply them with wheat. There are people who like the thought of eating local, and these fit right into that.”

“Bobby is getting a little antsy,” Maria said. “If you are caught up in the store, then you can take him home, or at least to Grandpa’s.

At Grandpa’s, or the new house as Rachael had to start thinking of it, Bobby immediately went over to visit the dogs next door. Rachael peeked in, and saw Grandpa was taking a nap, so she went over to see the music teacher. She needed to get her grocery list, as Rachael hoped to make her weekly grocery trip today, instead of on the busy weekend.

“I’m sorry dear, I don’t think I can get anything today. A few students have stopped coming in, and things have been tight. Perhaps you could get a small bag of dog food for me. I can’t let Goldie and Rudolph suffer. I think I can find $10.”

“Nonsense,” Rachael said. “Bobby plays with those dogs as much as you do. We will buy the dog food this week. And what’s more, I think your lessons with Bobby have really been doing him well. We will start to pay. Lessons are $40 an hour, right?”

“Yes, but Bobby has only been doing a half hour,” Miss Lajoie said. “That would only be $20.”

“Yes, but we are going to be living right next door here, so he could come over for lessons twice a week,” Rachael handed over $40 from her bakery bonus.

“Bless you Rachael,” the lady said as she started to scribble down a grocery list. “When are you moving in?”

“Sunday, hopefully. Just the three of us at first, but eventually Geoff will join us. At least that is what I assume. We can’t all live in his rooms above the bakery.”

Miss Lajoie dropped her pencil. “A man. Living next door? Oh my.” She looked visibly shaken by the news. “I … I don’t get along well with men. Even that boy you got me to cut my grass. He is nearly a man. If he were any bigger I don’t think I could teach him. Boys and old men like M. Verdun are fine. It is just adult men that bother me.”

“Leon,” Rachael said. “Did he do something?”

“No dear, it is not him. It is me. Things happened when I was younger, and now I am not comfortable around men. That is why it is such a blessing that you go to the grocery for me. I had to fight very hard not to have one of my anxiety attacks while I was shopping. That is also why I have two big dogs. I love them dearly now, but originally I got them for protection. A man next door?”

“Well, Geoff is a sweet, peaceful man,” Rachael said. “He would never hurt a fly. Perhaps I could bring him over one day, perhaps with Momma. You could see how nice he is.”

“Yes. If both of you came, and he doesn’t get too close. I suppose I should try to have contact with good men. I am sure that there are some good men.” She picked up the pencil and started finishing the list, and then handed Rachael back the $40 she had just got.

Rachael headed to the grocery, and then took a taxi back. She didn’t bother taking anything to the old house. The family seemed to be doing well eating at the new house, and Maria was in effect living there already.

When she arrived back with the groceries, she unloaded first at the new house, where Grandpa was now awake, and after giving him a kiss on the forehead, she took the groceries over to Miss Lajoie’s. She could hear Bobby plinking away on the piano as she put the groceries in the kitchen, leaving most of them on the counter, but putting the frozen and refrigerated good in the fridge and its freezer.

The biggest part of the groceries was two 50-pound bags of premium dog food. That would last the dogs for a few weeks. She had put that on her bill, not Mrs. Lajoie’s.

Later Bobby came in as she was making dinner, excited. “Miss Lajoie saw the dog food you bought, and started crying. I think it was a happy crying though. She said that the dogs were half mine now, and showed me how to feed them. That is going to be my job now, once we get moved in. When do we move, Rachael?”

“On Sunday, right after lunch, so no riding off on your bike. There are a lot of boxes to move, and your bed.”

Soon she heard Geoff and Maria coming up the lane, having just finished at the bakery. She had a dinner ready and after a prayer they ate a meal featuring breaded chicken fingers that Rachael had made from the remains of the chicken last night. Bobby especially enjoyed the finger food, dipping his chicken into the sauce that Rachael had made.

Dessert was cookies, and it was the first time that Geoff had tasted Rachael’s cookies. “You trying to put me out of business?” he asked jokingly. “These are great. What’s in them?”

Rachael gave him the recipe, and he grunted when she finished. “It’s the butter,” he pronounced. I use shortening in the bakery cookies. Butter is so much more expensive. But I wonder if we could make a line of Gourmet cookies using butter instead of margarine.”

“Right. Put that on the list of things to do when we get some spare time,” Maria snapped, with a smile to show she didn’t mean it. “Did you put an ad in the paper looking for a baker?”

“Yes. It will get in the Saturday paper,” Geoff said. “I hope we get someone good. Although I don’t know when I’ll have time to talk to anyone.”

Soon after, he left for the bakery, and Rachael made her mother go right to bed. Maria had started at 4 a.m. and probably would do the same on Saturday morning. Bobby and Rachael walked to the old house in the dark again, to Bobby’s delight.

As they got close to the old house, Rachael saw a car pull into its drive. She froze immediately, and put an arm out to stop her unobservant brother. A second later the car door opened and Rachael could see a short, female form get out, easing her fears.

“It’s just me,” Pastor Helen called from her car. “I’m glad I caught you.”

The relieved girl started walking again. “What can we do for you?” Rachael asked as they got close. She took out her key to open the door. “Are you wanting another look at your new house? We plan to be moved out after church on Sunday. You can move in after that.”

“No it is not that, and don’t rush getting out early on Sunday. I only have a few boxes and bags at the motel to move in. Gary will probably be able to get it all in one load of his new truck.”

“Gary has a truck?” Rachael said. “How did he work that?”

“It was in the shed. A 1963 Dodge, I think. He spent a few days getting it running along with all the other things he has been doing. It doesn’t look pretty, but it runs well, he says. And the way he got my old clunker working, I trust him.”

Rachael sent Bobby to read his library books, and then made tea for the pastor.

“We had a meeting last night,” she said. “I tried to get ahold of you and your Mom, but one of the ladies told us about how busy the bakery has been. To make a long story short, we have reestablished the women’s group at the church. Apparently it died out in the 90s due to a feud between a couple of members. Both of them have passed on and I really want to utilize the power of church ladies.”

“You see, Gary told me that there is no soup kitchen in town on Wednesday nights, and suggested that we have one. Of course, that will cost money, and the deacon has made it clear that the church has none. I mentioned it to one of the ladies last week, and she took it and ran with it. Heather Spooner set up the whole meeting last night and the ladies decided to have a bake sale on Saturday. Not tomorrow, but next week.”

“Anyway,” Pastor Helen said, “I’d like you and your Mother to join the group. And to make baking for Saturday. And if possible, to teach me how to bake.”

“Well, I am the baker in the family right now,” Rachael said, “although I think Mom will be interested in trying a few things out, now that she is engaged to Geoff. I certainly could show you what I know. It will be interesting though, if we do it here, since the old stove will not be mine anymore.”

“Oh, we can do it at the church kitchen,” Helen said. “Gary has all four ranges working perfectly, and three of the fridges. He put an upright freezer that he found in the shed into the place of the fourth fridge. The man is a genius in fixing things. He says he wants to have an auction sale of things from the shed on the day of the bake sale.”

“He certainly did a wonderful job on a bike for Bobby,” Rachael said.

“Yes, and I think he has fixed up a couple more.

“Gary has been sorting things in the she out and making room as he fixes things up. He’s taken a few loads to the recycle center to sell as scrap, now that he had a truck, but he is hesitant about taking out anything that might have a part for something he is fixing.”

“Well, Mom and I will be glad to help with the bake sale. Or at least I will. She has been super busy this week. If she has some time she will help. Why don’t we plan for Wednesday, at the church kitchen, if that is the day the suppers will occur? You might need two or three bake sales to get enough money to get them going though.”

Helen drove the kids over to the Stoner house for a sleepover. Rachael was going to start out with Mikki in the early morning to do the filming, and Mrs. Stoner had asked that she bring Bobby too. Danni was ecstatic to have her protector/hero spending the night, but didn’t understand why Bobby was going to spend the night in the guest room, instead of in her room. Mikki and Rachael were sharing her bed, and she thought she and Bobby could too.

That night Mikki watched as Rachael kneeled down and prayed.

Dear Lord

Thank you for such a wonderful life, with friends like Mikki and everyone else at school. Please look after Miss Lajoie, and help her with whatever her problem with men is. And please make the weather nice tomorrow, so we can finish the video.

Amen

“Do you do that every night?” Mikki asked as Rachael crawled into the bed.

“I try to. Sometimes he answers, but mostly he just does wonderful things that make me happy.”

Mikki was silent for a moment, then slid off the bed and kneeled.

Dear Lord

Thank you for bringing Rachael into my life. When I first met her, we were the nerds without friends, and she said that one day we would be popular. Now we are. Not the snotty kind of popular, but we have great friends, and I even have a boyfriend, even if he has been super busy working at his parents’ store. And I double Rachael’s prayer for nice sunny weather tomorrow.

Amen

“That felt good,” Mikki said. “I need to start doing it more often. Maybe even every night.”

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Sorry for the big gap since the last chapter. Apparently there was a major event early this week. It was the start of the World Junior Hockey Championship, which is more important to Canadians over the age of 14 than Christmas: Dawn

SATURDAY, May 28, 2016

Rachael was up first. Luckily the girls had not done the traditional sleepover thing of talking all night, and managed to get a good six hours sleep before waking at 4 a.m. Mikki woke up when Rachael got back from the shower, and followed her in, and then Rachael went downstairs to make toast. She knew Mikki liked coffee, and she got orange juice for herself. When Mikki came downstairs toast was ready and Rachael and Mr. Stoner were chatting.

Mikki’s dad was driving, and of course also brought his camera along to document his daughter and friends making the video. A few minutes later they loaded into the van, which Rachael noted now had a cute Stoner Photography logo on it.

After picking up Larissa and a tired-looking Carly, Mikki directed her father to the part of the gravel pit where she wanted to set up. The gang got out and went to their respective positions. Mikki, her dad, and Rachael carried camera equipment to the first shooting area, while Larissa went back to direct others to the parking area. There would be a large contingent of people coming to help out today. They expected at least 25.

Carly took a position closer to the shooting site, where she was able to direct people to where they needed to be. As they got to the first site, they saw Mr. VanEyke, the owner of the quarry, standing next to his backhoe. He had been first in, to unlock the gates, and was ready in case Mikki needed additional earth moved. She had come in on Tuesday after school, and outlined what she needed done, and Mr. VanEyke had moved earth around, building the foxholes and bunkers that were being set up. Luckily a rainfall Wednesday overnight had erased all the backhoe tracks. Mikki made sure to take a picture of the quarry owner next to his backhoe for the credits page of the movie.

Earlier in the week Mikki and Rachael had gone through the part of the film with Grandpa explaining what had happened in the battle to Larissa, and timed every portion of what he was saying. For instance, when he said the company moved into the danger zone, it took 12 seconds. This meant that Mikki needed at least 12 seconds of video of the town boys in uniform marching down the path on the first site. There was no sense getting much more video than was needed. The second scene, only 6 seconds, came when Grandpa had said that the German’s started firing, killing the Captain and lieutenants, and he led the rest into a depression. Then there were another 40 or so short scenes making up the 9 minutes of the film that they already had of Larissa and Grandpa talking.

Some of the kids from the high school drama class had come in, after Mr. Churchill had alerted their teacher, and they had some special effects. The best were squibs, little explosives that mimicked bullets hitting the dirt. Mr. Churchill had gotten about 10 dozen of them somewhere, and they were set up by the drama students. Mikki was not worried about running out. She intended to PhotoShop copies of them into different parts of the film to sync with the sound and action. The only tricky ones were those that went on the young Legion member dressed as the captain, and the two younger lieutenants. These had to go off on their chests, with them crumpling to the ground immediately after. These three wore Kevlar vests that Constable Winslow had borrowed from the police department under the uniforms, and the squibs would destroy their shirts, especially since blood capsules were going to run down from the ‘wounds’. That was one of several scenes that Mikki wanted to get perfectly in one take. Rachael was going to operate one of Mr. Stoner’s other cameras for these, at a different angle to improve chances of getting a good shot.

When the sun was about to rise, and the pre-dawn light made it easy enough to see, Rachael was amazed at how many people were here. There were the 25 soldiers wearing the vintage uniforms donated by townspeople, and another nine in German uniforms that Mr. Churchill had somehow acquired. There were six men in each of the German positions, so three boys were in both scenes, and were told not to allow their faces to show in both places. One had a wispy little fake moustache that he wore in one, and not the other, and another boy actually had grown a moustache, and was willing to shave it between the two scenes.

But there were a lot more people there than just the actors. It seemed that the entire Legion were there, a few in uniforms, and others just wearing their berets. Parents and girlfriends of the soldiers had come, as well as friends. Luckily there was no need for silence on the shoot: the noise from chatter was loud. (Mikki had been sent audio files of rifle and machine gun fire from the National Film Board guy, and would place that in the final track, although most of the sound was Grandpa and Larissa talking.) In all, there must have been 150 people in the quarry.

Shooting started at 6:45, and Rachael was amazed at how much work went into getting 10 seconds of video shot. They budgeted 15 minutes for each scene, and there were 40 scenes, for a ten-hour day. Some scenes were shot twice, and a couple needed a third shot before Mikki was satisfied. Most took less than the 15 minutes, with only the two scenes where ‘Grandpa’ took out the two German positions running long.

Unfortunately Rachael didn’t get to see those being filmed. Pastor McNaughton appeared far too soon, and after watching the action for a few minutes, he approached Rachael in between takes. Rachael turned her camera over to Carly, who would replace her as second camera, and then headed to the Pastor’s car. Gary was driving, as the pastor had not yet been cleared to drive after his heart attack.

“That is quite an amazing thing you are doing there,” the Pastor said as they walked back to the car. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay and postpone this?”

“No,” Rachael said. “This is important. I want the guys to have a chance to come to church tomorrow. And I think it is important to you too. You need to clear your conscience.”

“I guess so,” the pastor said reluctantly. In the car she was amazed to find that it was nearly 11 a.m. The pastor clearly didn’t want to do this, and had procrastinated. As they drove up to the shops, Rachael saw that there were customers outside of the bakery, although not as many as on Thursday. They arrived at the art gallery at 11, and John greeted them, noting that Paul had a customer, and they could talk to him when he was free.

The pastor told John of his revelation at the gates, and as the more religious of the two, John was very taken by the story. He forgave the pastor for his evil words, but could not promise to attend the church again. Apparently Paul was quite outraged at the homophobic rant, and John had barely been able to convince him to let the pastor come talk to them. After about 10 minutes, the customer left, and Paul came forward cautiously. The pastor repeated his description of his revelation, which caused Paul to scoff slightly.

“In conclusion, I am the sinner, not you, and I freely admit it,” the pastor said. “I was wrong … have been wrong all my life … and I would dearly love to have you return to the church and show our new, inclusive philosophy.”

“Okay,” Paul said. “I will come to service tomorrow, if John wants to,” John nodded his agreement, “but only if you will come here and hug me.” Paul was quite sure that the minister was not sincere, and would refuse such close contact with a gay man.”

The pastor surprised him, stepping forward and putting his arms around Paul and hugging him tightly. “Forgive me my son, for I have sinned and I desire your forgiveness.”

Rachael perked up. The voice she was hearing changed significantly after the first two words. The hug seemed to last for a long time as well. Finally, they broke apart, and Paul looked shaken, and John rushed to his side. The pastor also had a confused look on his face, and Rachael took that opportunity to take him to the back of the gallery, where the huge painting of Jesus hung on the wall.

The pastor approached it silently, and then dropped to his knees when he saw it in all its glory, and began to pray. Rachael left him alone, and went back to the men, and found them in an animated conversation.

Paul explained that as soon as the pastor had hugged him, he felt strange. When the voice change occurred, Paul recognized the new voice immediately. It was the voice of his father, who had kicked him out of the house and the family nearly 20 years ago when he had ‘come out’ as a gay. The man had died five years ago, and said that he was using the pastor’s body to ask forgiveness. On arriving in heaven, he learned the truth about God’s views on same-sex relationships, and found that he would not rest in the afterlife until he was forgiven. At the end of the hug, Paul had forgiven both his father, and the pastor.

“I should go see if he needs help getting up,” Rachael said. “He is quite taken by your masterpiece, John.” She left them chatting and went back to the pastor, who continued to pray for several minutes. When he came out of his trance, he smiled up at Rachael, and as she helped him to his feet, said: “He forgives me. I just have to live a loving and open life, for as long as it lasts. I feel so much better. So clean. So good.”

“So you like my work?” John said as they approached. “Although Rachael says I didn’t paint it. She says God used my hands to paint it.”

“It is … magnificent,” Pastor McNaughton said breathlessly. “It is inspired, and I think that it can actually talk to us. I saw your price tag on it. I wish that I had that kind of money.”

“Well,” Paul said. “John and I have just talked about that. Not only do we forgive you for your words the other week, we want to give you this painting. We feel it is the right thing to do.”

“Oh my,” the pastor said, actually starting to cry. “It is too much. I don’t know where … yes, I do know where it should be placed. Rachael, could you run out and get Gary to come in from the car?” Rachael hurried out, listening to the sobbing pastor mumble his thanks over and over again.

Gary came in, and the pastor showed him the painting. Gary also dropped to his knees before it, and prayed, although not for as long as the pastor had.

“I can see it at the end of the entrance hall to the church,” the pastor exclaimed. “Everyone entering the church will see it. Hopefully some of them will pray to it.”

“I could do that,” Gary said. “Is it in pieces?”

“Yes, there are four six by four canvases. If they are fit together closely, the seams should be invisible,” John said.

“I’ll bring my truck back as soon as we get to the church,” Gary said.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the pastor asked John.

“Yes, and you will keep the other part of the bargain?” John said.

“What bargain is that?” Rachael asked, confused.

“These two gentlemen have never been married,” the pastor said. “While the national Presbyterian church accepts same-sex marriages, no pastor was forced to officiate at these, so of course there has never been one in our little church. This will change. As soon as they are ready, I will be happy to officiate at the ceremony.”

“That is wonderful,” Rachael said. “I would love to come to your wedding. In fact, if you need music, my mother and I can sing a pretty nice duet. Just let us know of the songs you want, and we will sing them. Oh, she might still be busy with the store. If she can’t make it, I will sing solo.”

“That would be wonderful,” Paul said. “You are the first person we met in Ingersoll after opening the store. And I think you had something to do with this meeting taking place. And it was you who stood up for us after we were kicked out, and that means a lot to us. You definitely need to be there.”

Rachael begged off to take a quick visit to the bakery, going through the back doors to avoid the crowds in the store.

“Racheal,” her mother called as she saw her. “Can you help out? Carol is swamped in the front, and I’m working both front and back.”

“Sure, as long as you let me get some treats for the boys. They drove me here, and were planning to take me back to the filming.”

“Of course. Oh, the filming. I forgot you were doing that. You go on, we will handle things somehow.”

“Don’t be silly,” Rachael said. “They will get along without me. You really seem to need help here. I’ll be back in two minutes.” She picked out a pair of Danish for John and Paul: lemon and cherry. Gary got two rolls. They were the kind her mother had given him when he was doing the sweeping, and he loved them. Finally he got a pair of Angel Food cupcakes for the pastor, with the second one for Helen. She took them back to the art gallery, to thanks all around, and then ran back to the bakery, grabbing an apron from the rack as she hurried to the front.

Carol, had looked hopeful at first seeing her come out for the pastries, and then looked sad as she left, now was thrilled to see her in an apron, taking a position at the counter. It took two hours, but gradually the lineup in the store tapered off around 2. Word had gotten around that telephone orders were the best way to avoid the crowds, and the time from then to the end of the day was steady with people coming in to pick up orders.

More than a few people came in late, and were dismayed to find the shelves completely bare. Carol and then Rachael started promoting telephone orders for these people, and more than a few made orders: some for Monday, and others for next Saturday.

During a lull, Carol told Rachael that her posters in the store were a hit, with most customers reading them while waiting in line. “Some of them commented on them when I was serving them,” she said.

At ten to six, Mrs. DaSilva came into the store carrying a bag. In it were three jars of her famous tomato sauce, and a collection of cold cuts along with four nice apples “for the bambino”. She stopped in front of the sign directing people to visit DaSilva’s for more healthy goodies, and read it carefully.

“New customers have come to the store all day,” she said in her heavily accented English. “They say, a sign in the bakery told them to come. We have never been so busy. We are nearly cleaned out.” She looked at the empty shelves in the bakery. “Not as empty as in here though. This is a present for you thinking of us,” she said, setting the bag on the counter and leaving to close up her own store.

After she left, Rachael opened the bag, letting out a squeal of delight at the sight of the tomato sauce. She handed one of the jars to Carol. “You have to try this,” she said. “It is the best spaghetti sauce you will ever taste, and it makes a great pizza too. Oh, look. There is pepperoni, sausage and mozzarella in there too. Those are mine. I’m going to make a pizza.”

“Shouldn’t it all be yours,” Carol said, pushing the jar back towards Rachael. “I mean, she gave them for the store.”

“She gave them for us promoting her shop,” Rachael said, pushing the jar back. “You have been telling customers all day what a great place they have. I heard you several times this afternoon. You have earned this.”

“That’s right,” Geoff said. The exhausted-looking man had come up to the front, and was reading the summary from the cash register that Carol had just run. “And now it is bonus time. We outsold even Thursday, so there is another round of bonuses. He handed out twenties to all the staff, including Kyle who was not expecting this. Doug gladly took his. It was to be his own money, since his Mother said that what he had brought in as bonuses earlier was enough for her to make her payments. He planned to order in a pizza, which was something the family had never been able to afford. When it came time for Geoff to give Rachael hers, she argued, but was told she also had to take the money.

“Okay, but this is the real bonus,” she said as she put her arms around the goodies from DaSilvas, excepting Carol’s jar.

Maria’s bonus was a big hug and kiss from her man. “We are working tomorrow morning, trying to get the shelves stocked up,” Geoff said, once he got his tongue back. “Either of you boys want to work with Maria and I?”

“I do,” Doug said immediately. Kyle thought about it. “I’m exhausted right now, but yes, I will come in tomorrow. What time?”

“How does four sound for Doug and six for you? We will be done at noon.” Geoff asked. Doug immediately nodded, and Kyle agreed.

“And judging by these figures, I think we need another clerk. Rachael saved us today, but if people have to wait too long for service, they might not come back. Carol, do you know of anyone who needs a job and is willing to work?” Geoff asked.

Carol thought for a minute, and then spoke: “I do know of a girl who needs a job. She is a high school dropout and she was in prenatal classes with me for her second child. I think she might be nearly 20 now. One baby is three, and then there is the newborn. Her boyfriend split after she got pregnant the second time. I have taken my baby over to see her several times for play dates, and occasionally I leave her there as babysitting, so I can give her some cash. She lives with her parents, and her Mom would probably look after the babies if Jennifer was working.”

“She’s hired,” Maria said. “How can she not be? She is in exactly the same situation as I was, although the gap between kids is closer. Is that all right, Geoff?”

“Hey, you are the boss of the front,” Geoff said. “I just authorized another staff person. You do the hiring and training.”

“Can you ask her if she can come in on Monday at 8?” Maria said. “We will pay her for the day, and if things don’t work out she will have a day’s pay at least. Minimum wage of course, and it will be five days a week, with either Monday or Tuesday off. She will have to work every Saturday. Carol, can you take Tuesday as your day off next week, so you are here when your friend comes in?”

“And that means Maria will be taking Wednesdays off,” Geoff said.

“Fat chance,” Maria retorted. “I will start working a five-day week when you do. Partner.”

After locking up the shop, the family walked the few blocks to Grandpa’s. Rachael was able to whip up a spaghetti dinner quickly. Maria continued on to the Stoner house, and picked up Bobby, who had spent the morning with Danni and the afternoon riding his bike around town with his gang.

“That smells wonderful,” Maria said as she ushered her son into the new house. “Put your helmet up into your room, Bobby. You won’t have a chance to use it tomorrow until after the move.” The boy looked confused. To him his room was in the other house. “Your room here, upstairs,” Maria clarified. “This is our new house, although I think Rachael and you will sleep there one last time.”

“We will have to,” Rachael said as she got the garlic bread out of the oven. “Bobby and I have our church clothes there. But after that we will all be together here with Grandpa. And soon Geoff, when he stops being so lazy and actually marries Momma.”

The thought that Geoff had been lazy led to chuckles all around, and Rachael then said her prayer. Grandpa again honored one of the men who he had served with, mentioning the captain who had died early in the Victoria Cross battle. “He was a good man. Fair and sensible, and not many officers showed both of those traits. He led from the front, and that cost him his life. But it saved the life of one of his men, perhaps me, and for that we honor his memory.”

“Well said, sir,” Geoff said. “I’m glad you and yours did what you did in that war, because since then Canada has largely been at peace. We owe you a lot.”

“You only say that because you want to marry my new daughter,” Grandpa answered with a smile. “You are lucky that I know you are a good man, and will do her well. Otherwise I would have shown you the door long ago.”

That led to more giggles as Rachael dished out the salad. She also brought the warm garlic bread to the table, while checking on her pasta. She had considered Love bread too valuable to make garlic bread, so she had taken three sub rolls from the bakery and cut them lengthwise into four breadsticks each. They made excellent garlic bread, and even Bobby liked them, eating three. Rachael knew that young palates often rebelled to sharp tastes, but the boy loved garlic.

The spaghetti was a hit as well. How could it not, with Mrs. DaSilva’s sauce? Geoff and Grandpa had not tried it before, and raved. Bobby showed his enthusiasm in asking for seconds. An afternoon of riding through town had apparently made him hungry.

Rachael did the dishes, waving Geoff and Maria away, since they had been up since early morning and needed to relax, according to her. When everything was put away, she joined what was soon to be her family in the living room. Maria was snuggled up next to Geoff, and Rachael sat on his other side, and snuggled in next to him as well.

“I want to get some love from Daddy,” she said as she hugged him.

Bobby was sitting on the carpet, and perked up. “Do we get to call him Daddy now?” he sang out. “Daddy, daddy. I have a daddy now. First a Grandpa, and now a daddy. What could be better?”

“Well, you also have a new Grandma,” Rachael said. “Mrs. Barron is Geoff’s momma. If he is your Daddy, then she is your Grandma.”

It was almost overload for the little boy, who started dancing around the room. “Daddy, Momma, Rachael, Grandpa, Grandma,” he sang repeatedly. “I have a family. A real family. I love you all.” With that he collapsed to the floor.

“And that is the way you work off a big spaghetti dinner,” Maria said with a laugh. “I think Geoff and I will walk to the old house with you kids and pick up a few boxes.”

“But I have to get Grandpa ready for bed,” Rachael said. “And it is too early. But you two need to get some sleep for tomorrow.”

In the end Rachael just got Grandpa’s pajama tops and helped him into them, since it was the buttons on them, and his day shirt, that caused him problems. She turned down his bed so he could get into it easily, and then gave him a kiss before the four others walked down to the old house for one last time.

Rachael and Bobby read for a good long time after their parents left with their boxes, and Bobby had his bath. Rachael noticed, when he had come to get her in only his underpants, that her little brother was no longer as chubby as he had been. He was active on his bike and his friends, and she no longer had any doubts that he would be ‘one of the cool kids’ when he got into middle school next year.

After he fell asleep, Rachael recounted her day in prayer.

Dear Lord

Thank you for the wonderful weather today. I missed the last half of the filming, but Mikki texted me at 5 saying that they had wrapped everything up, and she was pleased with what she had gotten. Thank you for forgiving Pastor McNaughton. He really is a good man who just had some bad ideas about things. And thank you for whatever happened to Paul after that hug. I have never seen him glow so much. He had always seemed dour. But his face just lit up when he and John gave the pastor the painting. And bless my little family. I just know we are all going to be so happy.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Might as well get this new year kicked off right: Dawn

SUNDAY, May 29, 2016

Rachael woke up for the last time in the house that she had lived in her entire life (counting both old Rachael and new Rachael). She had her last morning shower, and then woke Bobby before slipping downstairs. Breakfast had been well planned out. There was enough eggs and bread for one last breakfast of French toast, Bobby’s Sunday favorite. She poured the remaining milk into a glass for Bobby, and the end of the orange juice for herself. Both containers went into the recycle bin.

“Eat up, Bobby,” she told her brother when he came down in his pajamas. “We won’t get lunch until after we move at 1, so if it takes a couple of hours, then we will really be hungry.

“Is there more syrup?” Bobby asked.

“No, that is the last of it. I’m not using any. You got it all. The new bottle is at the new house, for next week’s French toast.”

Bobby finished and Rachael washed and dried the dishes they used, then went up to make sure Bobby was syrup free before giving him his Sunday clothes. She went back down and put the dishes into a box marked ‘kitchen’.

“Bring down your Harry Potter, Bobby,” she shouted up the stairs. She heard Bobby go back into his bedroom and get the book, which went into a box in the living room.

“The house looks all sad,” Bobby noted, as they looked around at the boxes stacked in the living room and the kitchen.

“Yes, but it will all be happy when we have moved it all to the new house, where our family will live from now on,” Rachael said. “Let’s go to church. We are a bit early, but this place makes me sad too. I hope Pastor McFarland will be happy here. We had some happy times, didn’t we?”

“We did, but now we move to the family house,” Bobby chanted as they walked towards the church. “I have a family, family, family. I have a Momma, and a Daddy, and a sister, and a Grandpa, and now a Grandma. I am so glad, glad, glad.”

When they got to the church, there were already a few people there. Gary wasn’t helping the elderly up the steps, but the deacon was there. When Rachael asked where the caretaker was, the deacon said he had been up all night preparing a ‘surprise,’ and was still at it.

As soon as Rachael entered the church, she saw the surprise. At the end of the entrance hall stood the painting John had made. It was magnificent. In the store the bottom panel had not been mounted, as the store could barely fit a 12-foot painting, let alone the 16-foot version that was here. The bottom panel was just the robes of the Christ, but now that she saw them, Rachael saw that they made the painting even more impressive. The church had a balcony above the back 24 rows of pews, although it was open only when the church was full. The entry hall was the height of the church plus the balcony, leaving lots of room for the full height of the painting.

Rachael stared at the painting, and realized that the third panel up was tilted out a few degrees, and the top panel, with Christ’s benevolent face was tilted out more, about 15 degrees. The effect was that it appeared as though the giant figure was smiling down on you.

Gary was still working. He had made four prayer rails, about 30 inches of doubled two-by-fours, wrapped in old carpet from the shed. This gave people a place to kneel in comfort, with room for two, or perhaps three people at each rail. As well, there was a small box with a slot in the top, which had the word ‘Donations’ written in Gary’s ornate sign-painter’s script.

There were already people standing around the painting, and some kneeling on the three prayer rails that were already installed. Some people prayed for only a minute or two, and then rose and dropped a loonie or toonie into the donations box. But many people spent longer praying, and these folks rose with looks of genuine relief in their faces, and most of them dropped bills into the donations box.

Eventually Helen had to come out to shepherd the congregation into the church, telling them that the area would be open for prayers all afternoon, and into the evening. People who hadn’t yet prayed seemed reluctant to leave, often looking backwards as they entered the church.

Rachael saw Constable Steve going in, and sent Bobby with him. She wanted to go with Helen, who was headed outside, where there was some sort of commotion going on.

Outside the two saw a group of protesters marching up and down the street. Their signs identified them as a LGBTQ group, but not where they were from. None of the faces looked familiar, and having worked in the bakery Rachael had met a lot of the townsfolk.

Helen walked up to the group, and asked what their purpose was. A rather large woman of about 40 stopped and approached them.

“This church discriminates against gays,” she shouted at them. “You shouldn’t worship here. God would not approve.”

“I agree,” Helen said quietly. “But you are mistaken. All are welcome here, equally in every way. We did have a problem a few weeks ago, but that has been remedied, and the pastor involved has apologized for his errant speech.”

“You lie,” the woman shouted, as a crowd of protestors gathered around. “We know that a gay couple were forced from the church several weeks ago. This kind of injustice cannot continue.”

“Yes,” Helen said softly, in contrast to the strident protestor. “That did happen, and it resulted in revelations by the pastor, who has since embraced the inclusivity of the Lord and welcomes all to this church. In fact, we would like to invite you all in to our services, so that you can see for yourselves how we treat people.”

That confused the protestors. Normally protests were confined to the sidewalks, off private property. To be invited inside …

“Can we take our signs?” the woman demanded, now speaking loudly, but no longer shouting.

“Well, they might be a distraction to other worshippers,” Helen said. “But you are welcome to leave them in our entranceway, and pick them up when you leave.”

“Look,” Rachael said, waving at John and Paul who were approaching the church. “These are the men who were ejected from the church two weeks ago. Please ask them about the pastor. I was with him when he apologized to them in person yesterday, and I understand he intends to make a public apology this morning to the congregation, welcoming them back to the church. I hope he can extend his welcome to all of you as well.”

For several minutes John and Paul were grilled by the protestors, who soon realized that there was no great injustice to be remedied here. A few went to their cars to leave, but most decided to enter the church behind John and Paul. As a result, the lower level of the church was much more crowded than normal, about half full. Several of the protestors paused when they saw the painting at the end of the hall, but service was starting, and Helen had to rush to the front of the church to join Pastor McNaughton. She whispered to him, and then took the seat behind his lecturn in the chancel.

After the opening hymns were sung Pastor McNaughton stood forth and spoke: “Today I have to confess to my congregation, and to all the new faces that I see in church today, that I am a sinner. Two weeks ago, I verbally chased two new members from the church, claiming that they were sinners. A young lady corrected me, and then the Lord took me to the very gates of heaven, where I was told that it was I who was sinning, in my objections to their holy love for each other. I am now chastised, and will work very hard to correct my sins. The two men I chased from the church are back here, and they have blessed the church with their love by donating the large picture of our Lord that you may have noticed when you walked in. There are prayer rails in front of the painting, and I beg all of you go there and pray at some point. I have found great comfort in praying to that image, and hope that you will too.”

“I also want to recognize some visitors to the church, who came to ensure that we are as inclusive as we claim to be. I hope to meet with each and every one of you after service, and I welcome any suggestions that you might have to show us how to better serve you, and to make the church ever more inclusive.”

“Finally, I want to announce that there is a major change in policy of this congregation. Until now, same-sex marriages have not been allowed in this church. I take full blame as the sinner responsible for such a shameful exclusion. I want to announce here and now that the church will be available for any marriages without consideration of orientation of the participants. Either Pastor McFarland or myself will officiate at the services. I only ask that any same-sex marriages occur after that of Paul Lenin and John Macarthur, which I am led to believe will occur in the next month or so. I feel that they have earned the right of being the first couple to celebrate their love in marriage here.”

“If there are others that require a quicker wedding, please speak to me or Pastor McFarland and we will work something out. However I am led to understand that the normal reasons for a rushed marriage don’t apply when both members are of the same sex.”

That took a few seconds before people worked out that he was talking about rushed marriages with a pregnant bride, and then a general laughter filled the church. After this the children left for Sunday school, and the sermon was given, with both pastors speaking about their understanding of inclusiveness, and how it related to the ministry of God.

As the final hymns were being sung, the pastors made their way to the exit. Gary had placed a chair for Pastor McNaughton, but the elder pastor insisted on standing as he greeted the parishioners. He was clearly feeling more fit.

And even though the church was more than normally filled, due to the protestors, the exit from the church was slower than usual, with many stopping to pray at the painting. A significant number of the protestors were moved to go towards the painting, and most dropped to their knees. The prayer rails were constantly in use, but younger and fitter members of the congregation just dropped to their knees on the bare floor.

Many of the protesters prayed long and arose confidently and smiling. At the door several told the pastors that their prayers had ended months and years of mental turmoil in their minds, and promised to come back to the church, even though they lived in London, Kitchener or even Toronto. The strident woman who had spoken to Helen outside the church apologized to her, and told her that her prayer had led her to see that not all people outside of her personal circle were evil. She had a small, younger woman with her, clearly her partner, and that woman also thanked the pastors, saying that her prayer had led her to understand why her parents were opposed to her relationship.

“Perhaps you can invite your parents here,” Helen suggested. “If they pray to the painting, they might understand your lifestyle.”

The young woman’s eyes lit up, and she said: “I will do that.”

Her partner grasped Helen in a hug and said: “You were right. This is the most inclusive traditional church I have ever been in. I feel I belong here. You truly are doing the work of the Lord here. Thank you.”

That was all Rachael saw. She left with the hallway still full of people, waiting to get closer to the painting. She had to get home at 1 p.m., as she had told several people that she would be there then to start moving.

As they walked to the house, Rachael’s mind was on the painting, and the miracles it seemed to be creating when Bobby spoke. “Why are there so many people at our house?”

Rachael looked up, and saw that the sidewalk in front of the house was crowded with people. There were dozens wearing Legion caps, and dozens more from the school. She recognized faces from the bakery, customers as well as Kyle, Doug and Carol. And it was only 12:50! The boys must have come as soon as they finished work in the morning.

She unlocked the door and invited people in. She gave Mikki one of the smaller box, and a little bag for Danni to carry. “You go first, Mikki, you know where the new house is. Bobby, take a small box, and walk with them.”

After that it was a matter of handing out boxes to the various people who came in. Many had brought trucks, but with so many hands, it made more sense to just walk down the street between the houses. By half past one, the last box had been taken, and Rachael locked the door and followed the long chain of people who were walking down the street, carrying her life in their hands. Four men even walked Bobby’s single bed down the street, wanting to be a part of the parade, rather than putting it on one of the trucks.

Helen and Steve arrived just as she left, and she handed over the keys. Gary was there with his truck, filled with boxes from Helen’s motel room, and Rachael told those people who hadn’t gotten a box from her to carry to the new house that they could help Helen unload the truck. She then hurried after the chain of people moving down the street.

Earlier in the day, while Rachael and Bobby were still at church, Geoff and Maria were working in the bakery with Kyle and Doug, slowly filling the shelves. At 10 a.m. there was a tapping at the back door. It was Bill Strong, the councilor, here for his meeting with Maria. She really didn’t want to talk to him, but had already postponed twice. And she could not see a time in the near future when she would be less busy. And the four of them had produced a great deal of goods in the course of the morning. She could make time.

“Come into the coffee nook,” Maria said. “We can talk there.” As they went through the shop, Bill noted the large number of strange and confusing looking machines.

“I never dreamed that a little bakery like this would have so much equipment,” Joe said as the walked to the nook.

“Geoff got most of it used, and some is going to have to be replaced soon, as the business grows,” Maria said. “We just need bigger capacity in the mixer, the proofer and perhaps a second oven. Geoff never thought that bread would be one of his biggest sellers. If you move in next door, you’ll have to do the same kind of forecasting.”

“Well, next door is not going to happen,” Bill said. “I was talking to some of my friends on council, and they brought up how huge the conflict of interest would be. I mean, I push for the subsidized buildings, and then rent one. I really hadn’t thought about it. My enemies on council would have a heyday with it.”

“Then you aren’t starting a café?” Maria asked, unsure why the man was even here.

“Actually, I am. I’ve caught the bug, and can’t shake it. I want to start a café or restaurant out on the highway, where my motel is. There is lots of land there, and I can easily swing the mortgage on a building, especially if it is attached to the motel.”

“Ah, I see. What do you see as your target market? Just motel guests? Or people from town? How many rooms do you book a night?”

Bill thought a second. “An average of 68 rooms are rented over the entire year. We are filled some times, and as few as 6 one day last year. That didn’t even meet salaries.”

“Well, I’ve heard that you can expect 70 percent of the rooms booked will visit the restaurant, with just under half of those visiting both for supper when they come in, and breakfast the next morning,” Maria said. “I’m assuming with the motel, you will want a full restaurant, and not just a café.”

“Yeah, I think so,” Bill said.

“It is important to decide on your market. Do you want to hire a top chef and become a destination dining experience? That will draw people from town and the surrounding area, but it will not suit your motel travellers looking for a quick, good meal at a reasonable price. At the other end is the greasy spoon, or a strip club, neither of which I would recommend.”

“The greasy spoon is out of the question,” Bill said. “But I was thinking of bringing girls in if the place didn’t take off.”

“It won’t take off,” Maria said. “Expect to lose money all through the first year, and then if you are lucky you will start to turn a profit the second year. But if you bring in strippers, you immediately lock yourself in as a place with a reputation. A lot of folk from town wouldn’t dream of coming to such a place, and some of your travellers won’t want to stay in a motel with exotic dancers. And once you go that way, you can’t come back. Besides, there already is a place out there that is doing pretty well. But if you try to split that market in half, you will just create two loosing businesses.”

“You have talked me out of that idea,” Bill said. “So a family restaurant is probably the answer, with breakfast in the morning, lunch, and then dinner. Do you recommend a club for the evening?”

“That is better than the idea of dancers,” Maria said. “If you are still having losses after the second year, you might think of bringing in a DJ or a lounge singer, or even teen bands. Probably just on the weekend. That means you will want to keep the dance area well away from any rooms in the motel where people will want to sleep. You definitely need a liquor license. A lot of people want a beer or a drink with their meal, and booze is your biggest profit center.”

“Oh, I guess these sketches are out then,” Bill said, unrolling a piece of drafting paper.

Maria studied them for a few minutes. “Yes, you want the kitchen here, with the bar here, not the other way around. That puts the dining and dancing area further away from the motel. And you don’t need such a large kitchen. Any chef would love a place that large, but you don’t need so much space. Move this wall 6 feet in and you have room for another eight tables. With two sittings a night, two people per table average, and an average evening tab of $40, you can add almost a quarter million a year to your gross.”

“Wow, this is why I want you as manager,” Bill said. “I’m upping my offer to $2000 a week. Interested?”

“Sorry, not even at double that. I am a partner in this place, and am marrying Geoff soon.”

“Damn. That is a price I can’t match. I don’t think my wife would agree to me marrying someone else,” Bill said with a laugh.

“No, and if you pay $100,000 a year for a manager, you are going to be out of business before you know it. Big salaries attract the wrong kind of people. It is fairly easy to steal a restaurant blind. You need someone honest, who is working for you, not stealing from you. I’d start at $40,000 to $50,000 and offer a profit sharing from the start, with a potential of $75,000 if the place is making money. That way, your manager is working with you, not against you. And you will need to make the same kind of deal with your chef.”

“Oh, I thought getting a chef out of one of the culinary schools would be much cheaper,” Bill said.

“It would be,” Maria noted. “But only one of any two would be able to run a place that young, and those that are good would be gone in a year or two and you are left looking for someone new. And that would mean a new menu, and a new style of cooking, just as people were getting used to the way the place was. Spending more on a good chef is a good decision.”

Bill pulled out a checkbook, and started writing. Maria thought she saw him write $100 as the amount. “I want your advice on this, if you will agree to be my consultant since I can’t hire you. I’d like you to take my sketches, and come up with a better layout, especially for the kitchen. I also need a list of equipment we would need, and where to buy it. And I’d also like you to come in for the interviews for the chef and manager positions.”

“I guess I could do that, if you don’t need it right away. We are understaffed here, and have to hire ourselves. I could do it in a month.”

“Two weeks?”

“No, but let’s aim for three. I should be able to find enough time to do it by then. My daughter had turned into a great little helper at home. Which I have to go to now, we are moving today at noon.”

Bill left, and Maria went out into the bakery, where she could see the boys cleaning up. She waved the check in front of Geoff’s face. “I just made a hundred dollars,” she crowed.

Geoff looked at the check. “Look again, Maria. That is written for $1000.”

Maria did look, and her eyes went wide.

“That is too much. I mean, just for talking for a couple hours?”

“Is that all you will be doing?” Geoff asked.

“No, he wants a floor plan sketch, and equipment list, and to have me sit in on interviews for the manager and chef.”

“That sounds like you are a consultant,” Geoff said. “This is the right kind of money for it. When I was starting out, the provincial government had a mentorship program, where I was hooked up with a retired baker. I paid $200 to him, and that was only a quarter of what he got: the government paid the rest. It was the best money I spent. His advice saved me thousands.”

“Come on,” he said. “Time to go. I’ve already paid bonuses to the boys and sent them to the old house to help. We got a ton of stuff made for the store, and hopefully it will last the week. All we have to do tomorrow is bake bread, rolls, and fresh pastries.”

They walked home. The check was in Geoff’s wallet: Maria was afraid to even touch it. As they walked home, they could see people coming down the street carrying boxes. They reached Grandpa’s just minutes before the first people, and the next hour had Maria busy directing people where to drop each box, based on the clear labels that Rachael had written on each.

The Legion men all insisted on meeting with Grandpa, and he swelled with pride with their handshakes. Most of those who had served saluted, ignoring Grandpa’s claim that he was non-com, and didn’t get saluted. As one older man said, “Heroes get saluted, sir.”

It was well past two when the last helper left, with sincere thanks from Rachael, Maria, and Geoff. Rachael made everyone a sandwich, and they were eating at Grandpa’s table … their table, now, Rachael thought. Rachael heard voices and giggling from upstairs. She raised an eye to her mother.

“Your friends are up there. They insisted that I not let you go up there until they are done. It is some kind of surprise.”

She went into the kitchen and made another three sandwiches. Four, actually, since Bobby asked for another with those big puppy dog eyes that Rachael was unable to resist.

She then went up to her new room and tapped on the door. Mikki opened it just a crack, and said: “You can’t come in yet. We are almost done.”

“I made you guys lunch,” Rachael said, unable to see anything through the crack.

“We’ll be down in ten,” Mikki said, and the door closed.

It was closer to 20 minutes later that the girls came down, giggling and laughing. They dug in on their sandwiches, and had a fresh brownie that Geoff had brought back from the bakery for dessert. Then they were ready for the big reveal.

The four went up the stairs, and Maria tagged along, wanting to see. Carly got to open the door, saying: “I hope you love it. Do you love it? I hope you do.”

Rachael stepped into the room. The walls were a light yellow, a color she had always liked, and it was one of the reasons she had picked this room rather than the blue that was now the guest room. The walls had been scrubbed, and there were posters of Justin Bieber and Gord Downey on the walls. There was also a great deal of Mikki’s work there as well. Several were landscapes that Rachael had admired when Mikki had first shown her her portfolio. There was the group montage of Jessica Rabbits as well as the picture of Rachael in the 19th century dress and corset both from the sleepover. There was also a large copy of the photo of Rachael and Mikki that Mr. Stoner had taken, set to one side of the bed, so that Rachael would see it first think when she woke, if she was facing the window.

She turned around, and then let out a loud “Eeep.” On the other wall was a large photo of Rachael and Robert, with his arms around her, looking down lovingly at her. “Oh yes, I do love it,” she told Carly.

“Carly was the chief designer,” Mikki said. “I supplied the photos. I hope you like my landscapes.”

“Oh, I do,” Rachael said, going from one girl to the other, hugging, and then somehow winding up in a group hug.

“Larissa just got new bedding at home,” Carly said. “I hope you don’t mind getting her old ones.”

Rachael looked at the bedding setup, with a duvet, blanket and rose-patterned sheets, all better quality than anything she could have afforded in the past. “It is wonderful. Thank you Larissa.”

“All your clothes are in the closet, or the dresser,” Larissa said.

“I put a few of my older things in there,” Carly said. “Since you have been losing weight, I’ll bet some of them fit, either now or they will in September. I promise I won’t tease you for being a ‘second-hand gal’ like I used to.”

“You guys are the best,” Rachael said, hugging them again. She looked up and saw her beaming mother. “Look what they did for me, Momma.”

After the girls left, the new family was sitting in the living room, albeit with Rachael popping up and down to check on the roast chicken that would be Sunday dinner.

“Guess what I got today, from councilor Bill?” Maria said.

“Oh, you met about the new café?” Rachael said.

“Yes, but it is going to be at his motel, not our plaza,” Maria said. “We still need to find a business for that.”

“Oh, I know, I know,” Rachael said, clapping her hands. “I didn’t say anything, because it seemed that the café was going in there. But it would be perfect for Ruby and her brother. She said they would like to get a butcher shop in town for their beef business. She said they would do the messy butchering out at the farm, but have a retail location in town. They could be our neighbors!”

“I’ll text Bill a message, and I’m sure he will want to talk to them. He had been telling people that he had a new business to fill the plaza, and with the café falling through, he could have egg on his face if he doesn’t get something in there. But here is the best part. He hired me as a consultant for his restaurant, and paid me $1000. Girl, we are going shopping. No more hand-me-downs for back to school.”

“Really?” Rachael said. “I don’t mind hand-me-downs, and I think I know of a better idea for the money. Don’t plan anything for it until I check some things out.”

That night, Rachael crawled into Bobby’s old bed, in his new room, and they read more of the second Harry Potter book. A few more weeks, and they would need to get the third. When the little guy was asleep, looking like an angel to Rachael, who had seen the real thing, she went to her new room, kneeling down beside her bed, and fingering the lush duvet cover.

Dear Lord

Thank you for another wonderful day. I know what a treasure my friends are, and not only the three girls. So many people came out to help us move, it was almost like a block party. It looked like an old African movie, with porters carrying boxes in a line. Except they were all my friends: from church, from school, from the Legion, and from the bakery. And I don’t know what you are doing with that painting in the church, but I trust that it will be good. Bless everyone.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Since it has been so long since the last chapter was posted (my back is better, but still a bit sore) I will recap. Yesterday we had three main events. The first church service after the installation of the painting, including a visit from some LGBT protestors; Rachael and her family moved to Grandpa’s house, and Pastor Helen moves into their old house; and Maria met with motel owner Bill Strong, who paid her $1000 for consulting on the restaurant he wants to build. I hope that saves a lot of you from having to reread the last chapter. Dawn.

MONDAY, May 30, 2016

When the girls got on the bus on Monday morning, Rachael asked Larissa to sit with her. “This hockey camp your brother is doing?” Rachael asked the taller girl. “Do you have any information about it? Who to call?”

“I don’t,” Larissa said. “But my mom would have all that information. You could give her a call anytime. She hasn’t got a work permit yet, so she will be at home most of the day.”

“Great. Don’t tell Marc, but there might be a chance for Bobby to go.” She told her friend about Maria getting money for consulting, and she wanted to check if the hockey camp was something they could afford. Bobby had talked a lot about how much fun he had with Marc, usually as a goalie for the bigger boy to take shots at. She had a feeling that when the NHL started in the fall, he would be wanting to watch the games on Grandpa’s big color TV.

The morning classes today were French and Phys. Ed., and Rachael finished her French work early, and then stepped out into the hall, calling Mrs. Hafleur first, and then calling Sam Weaver, a local man who had played about 25 games for Chicago in the NHL five years earlier, and who began running a hockey camp in town during the summers. He still played pro hockey in Europe for a German team in the winter.

“Mr. Weaver?” Rachael started.

“Speaking.”

“I’m calling about your hockey camp at the Ingersoll arena in July. Are there any vacancies? Not for me: for my brother.”

“How old is he? Does he play now? What position?”

“He is turning 10 in a few weeks. He only plays ball hockey right now. Goalie, I guess.”

“That would be Atom age group, then. That is filled, except for goalie. We have trouble getting boys that age that want to play goal, and it really doesn’t work as well having older boys play goal with the little ones. In fact, this year we offered a $200 discount for goalies. Right now we are desperate, and would be willing to up that to 50% discount.”

“That is $500 then?” Rachael asked. “Could you let us know what the equipment costs would be? I don’t even know what he would need.”

“Yes, $500 per session,” the hockey player said. “And you don’t need to have much equipment for a goalie. We supply all the pads, to encourage kids to try goal. He would only need to have a pair of long johns, and his skates. We would supply the rest: pads, uniform, and even a stick.”

“Wow, that sounds doable. I will have to check with my Mom, but I think you can pencil him in. Bobby Cartright … No, it is Bobby Barron, two Rs. We are changing our last name when Mom remarries.”

“I’ll wait for your call, Rachael,” Sam said. “And congratulations to your mom on her wedding.”

Rachael hung up, and hustled to the gym, where she was a bit late for Phys. Ed. She liked the sound of Sam’s voice, and hoped she could swing hockey camp for her brother. Even if Maria couldn’t justify spending the money, Rachael tried to mentally tally up things to see if she could swing the cost herself. She had saved most of what she had earned at the bakery lately. If Maria or Geoff would lend her some, she could work it off in the bakery during the summer, and Bobby could go to camp with Marc. For at least one session. Marc was going to attend both of the two-week sessions.

Arriving a few seconds late, Rachael got a dirty look from Phys. Ed. teacher Ms. Smith, but a second later a smile followed. Of late Rachael had become a second teacher in the class, and would work with the six or seven girls who were having the most trouble in the class. All of her friends had improved beyond the hopeless point, so it was a new group of girls, who had started the year with no interest in Phys. Ed. that she was working with. Rachael’s infectious enthusiasm had started to make the practice fun, and girls who hated basketball three weeks ago were now starting to have fun, especially with the attention and encouragement that Rachael gave them.

In the game at the end of the class, her new team was playing Larissa’s team, the one that Rachael had started out with. They had become one of the best teams in the class, and normally won their games by double digits. Rachael’s new team was ahead by a single point at the half, and only fell short by four points at the end of the game, thanks to some unstoppable layups by Larissa in the last minutes, while Rachael was on the bench to give the others some crunch playing time.

At the end of the session, Rachael again declared the game a moral victory for the team, and congratulated all the girls on their improving play, noting that soon they would actually win a game, if they were so close to beating the best team in the class. All the girls went to the change room with smiles on their faces, and a new enthusiasm for sports.

Lunch followed, and Rachael noticed that both Mikki and Janice were off running about the room with sheets of paper. “What are they doing?” she asked Carly.

“Oh, nominations just opened for the grad awards,” Carly said. “They have both nominated you for Top Girl and are racing to see who can get the 12 nominators signed up first. My mom was Top Girl when she came to the school, and keeps pushing me to run. She’s going to be disappointed though.”

“Why? You would be a great Top Girl,” Rachael said.

Carly snorted derisively. “Fat chance of that. You are sure to win. You have all the girls in the class from Phys. Ed., and all the kids from the movie nights. I’ve heard that a lot of the boys even think you are hot, and that will get you a lot of votes.”

“Hot? Me? I’m fat,” Rachael protested.

“Not any more,” Carly said. “You were chubby in your Goth days, but now that you are thinner you’re really cute.”

“Me cute?” She looked at Robert, who smiled.

“I’ve always thought you were cute,” he said. “But yeah, I hear the other guys talking, and you are now getting to be one of the hot girls.”

“Wow, I never knew,” Rachael said. She thought about it for a few minutes. “They can’t nominate me if I don’t sign the papers, can they?

“No, of course not. But why wouldn’t you sign?” Carly asked. Rachael didn’t answer, but left the cafeteria and went to get a nomination paper from the office. When she got back to the table, both Janice and Mikki were there with their papers.

“I won,” Mikki said. “I filled my sheet first, but you weren’t here to sign it. Sign right here.”

“I’m not running,” Rachael said. “I mean I’ve gotten popular lately, but for most of the year I was a nobody. It is only fair that we vote for somebody who has been popular all year long. I’m going to nominate Carly, and I want both of you two to sign as nominators for her.”

The girls argued for a while, until it was clear that Rachael was adamant about not running. They then signed Carly’s form. Rachael got a few more nominators at her table, and then went around to the other tables, getting nominators from the A-list table, from the Goth table, and even from a couple of the grade seven tables. Grade sevens got to vote, but weren’t allowed to run. They seemed excited to be included by Rachael.

Near the end of recess Rachael brought the filled sheet back to the table, where a sobbing Carly signed it. While Rachael was away, Carly had phoned her mom, and tearfully told her that she was being nominated for Top Girl.

“Thank you do much, Rachael,” she sobbed. “This shows why you should be the Top Girl: and why you will always be Top Girl to me. I wouldn’t mind not winning, but it would drive my Mom insane. She has plans for me all the way through college. Top Girl here, cheerleader next year, head cheerleader in Grade 12, and then cheerleader at Western University. It is all planned out.”

“Well then, we will just have to make sure you win,” Rachael said with a smile as they moved to their history class, the first of the next three periods working on their video. Mikki took charge. They had two Mac portables to work on and they went into pairs, with Carly working with Mikki, and Larissa and Rachael on the other machine. They would take turns with one on the computer, and the other giving a second set of eyes to make sure all the work was done correctly.

Rachael and Larissa were given the task of editing the battle scene, which Rachael had missed seeing on Saturday due to her visit with the Pastor to John and Paul’s gallery. She was amazed at how realistic the work was. The first step was desaturating the file, to make it look black and white. That only took a few minutes. But then they had to delete a yellow rope from the picture by cloning other material over the rope.

One of the boys playing soldier had a harness, and at the point he was ‘shot’ the theater boys all yanked on the rope, causing him to fly backwards as if he had been hit by a bullet. It ended up looking realistic, except for the rope that had to be erased from the entire scene. After a few minutes, the girls realized that it would be easier to delete from the color version, and not black and white, and Mikki allowed them to work from a backup of the original footage. She had chosen yellow rope instead of wire mainly because it would be easier to clone over.

Rachael and Larissa took turns at the tedious job of deleting the rope, with the one not working the computer watching the other to make sure that nothing was missed. One scene took just over an hour to retouch, and then it had to be desaturated again. A second video, from a different angle then had to be cleaned up, and this took until the end of the day.

The girls walked over to the elementary school to pick up Bobby and Marc, and the group then walked down to the strip plaza. Rachael got the boys each an apple at Dasilva’s and then went to the bakery, sending the boys home with Larissa so they could bike for an hour or so until supper. Rachael went into the bakery, which didn’t seem as busy as last week.

There was a new girl working the front with Carol, who introduced Jennifer Hope to Rachael when she popped in.

“How are you liking it,” Rachael asked.

“A lot,” Jennifer said, “It was really busy this morning, but it has slowed down now. I have learned so much, and everyone has been so nice. Well, except for one lady who was mad because there was no Love bread left at 3:30.”

“Yeah, that happens,” Rachael said. “I’m glad you like it here. So you will be coming back tomorrow?”

“Oh definitely. I would be even if it wasn’t such a fun place to work. I have a little baby and I have to stop relying on my parents to support us.”

“Well, keep in mind that your employee discount works for babysitting too. Just let me know if you need someone. You look young. You’ll have no problem getting asked for dates. The only trick is to find a good guy, like my Mom did.” She recounted the story of Maria’s date with Steve, the policeman. “He seemed the perfect guy, good job, handsome, really sweet, but they just didn’t click. Mom could have settled but there was no spark. She said no to more dates, and a few weeks later she meets Geoff, and there were sparks all over the place, even though they couldn’t see them at first.”

Just then Maria walked into the shop with a pan of cookies to load into the display. “Rachael!” she snapped. “Are you telling stories to the staff?”

“Yep,” Rachael said with a smile, snagging a cookie. “A good lesson for Jennifer and a warning for Carol. Look, are you super busy? I need to talk.”

“In the lunch room?” Maria asked.

“No, in the back is cool,” Rachael said, “Geoff should hear this too. It’s family stuff.”

In the back Rachael explained to the pair about Bobby’s dream of going to hockey camp, and the information she had gotten today.

“I thought that maybe with the money you got for consulting … “ Rachael told Maria.

“He’s going,” Geoff said abruptly. “You don’t need to use your money, love. He’s my son, or will be soon, and if he wants to go to hockey camp he goes.”

“He is ‘our’ son,” Maria corrected, “and he will go using ‘our’ money. My consulting fee will go into a family account, and whatever the bakery can spare from its account can be added into that. I agree that he should go. My old brain keeps telling me, ‘no, it’s too expensive’ but we do have the money now, and it will be a special time for him.” She turned to Rachael: “But that doesn’t mean that you and I aren’t going to do some serious clothes shopping. Before school in September, if not before. My daughter will not start high school as a Goodwill Girl.”

“Thanks guys,” Rachael said, hugging them both. “You are the best parents ever, to use a Bobbyism. We could even make this his birthday present. He turns 10 in a couple weeks. Can we afford a party for him, too?”

In the past neither Rachael nor Bobby had birthday parties, only small family gatherings with a mix cake. But with things changing, Rachael wondered if it was time to start.

“That is a wonderful idea,” Maria said. “We could have a small party for him, and a little bigger one for you in the fall. How many boys would he have, do you think?”

“Well, there would be Marc and Jerry, his bike buddies. And Danni would probably love to come. There might be a few others. I could ask him tonight. We could even do it at the arena, since public skating is on that weekend. Bobby and I have both borrowed old skates from the Stoners. We could go for pizza after.”

“That sounds wonderful, honey. Let’s talk about it at dinner tonight. Are you cooking?”

“Yeah, it looks like you don’t need any more help here. I’ll head off to give Grandpa some love, and make something special. Are you joining us tonight ‘Daddy?’”

Geoff got the widest grin at that. “Sure thing honey. I may be a good baker, but you are the best cook in the family. Whatever you make will be perfect, I’m sure.”

Rachael went out the door, and Geoff looked at Maria. “That girl is incredible. How does she do it? It is like sunshine follows her around. I was getting tired and sluggish before she came in, and now I feel as fresh as a daisy. You must be a great mother to have raised her like that.”

“Well, it wasn’t always like this,” Maria said, starting to tell Geoff the story of Rachael’s turnaround six weeks ago. They continued to work as she spoke.

Soon it was six, and Carol locked the door, and Geoff came to the front. Doug was there as well, since this was payday. Carol had introduced him to Jennifer, noting that he was ‘another of the good guys she should be looking for, but about five years too young.’

Maria got the task of handing out the pays to Doug and Carol, who both had big smiles as they opened the packages. There were also envelopes for Kyle and Rachael, and Maria pocketed those to hand out later.

“Jennifer?” Geoff asked.” We usually give advances to new staff, if they need it. Could you use a few dollars to hold you over until payday next week?”

“Yes sir,” Jennifer said, with tears in her eyes. “The baby needs diapers, and a few other things. Anything you can give me would help.” Geoff handed her two twenties.

Maria then snatched two more twenties from the stack Geoff was holding and handed them to her, causing Jennifer to start full out bawling. “I know what diapers cost,” she said, enveloping the young girl in a hug.

“But that is more than I have earned yet,” she sobbed. “You guys are so good. I love you all. Carol for getting me the job, and you guys for … for … just for being you. I’m never, ever going to work anywhere else. This is going to help so much.”

“So let’s get going, girl,” Carol said. “I’m betting you want to make a quick run in at Wal-Mart on the way home.”

At home, Rachael had made dinner, chatting with Grandpa as she prepared things. The salad was just cut and placed in tubs so that Bobby could ‘make’ it when he got home (after three attempts at cleaning his hands).

Dinner was a pork roast, since the Sunday dinner had been smaller than normal due to moving the household. Butter carrots and turnips (Bobby and Grandpa’s favorites respectively) were the veg, along with baked potatoes, another Bobby favorite.

Maria and Geoff arrived, hand in hand, at about 6:30, and Rachael had dinner on the table soon after. Grandpa led the prayer, remembering another veteran for them.

Before a simple dessert of ice cream was served, Maria brought up the idea of a birthday party to Bobby.

“A party? For me? Why?”

“Because you are my special little guy, and you and your sister have been so good these past weeks,” Maria said.

“Rachael is a good sister … now. I’ve never had a party before. What do we do?”

“Well, Rachael suggested that we could take everyone to the arena for skating, and then go out for pizza. I know a certain baker that would really like to make you a birthday cake.”

“Skating? Pizza? Cake?” Bobby’s eyes got wide. “That would be the best party ever. Who gets to come?”

“It is your party,” Rachael said. “You get to decide. Not your whole class though. But you could pick a few of your special friends. I was thinking of Danni, but that would only be if you want it.”

“Of course Danni,” Bobby said. “Marc, and Jerry. And you and Mikki and Larissa, and Mom and … Dad. And Gary from the church … he gave me a bike. He has to come. Oh, can Grandpa come too?”

“I don’t think skating is a good idea for me,” Grandpa said with a friendly smile. I would like a piece of your cake, if you can spare it. I’ll just take a nap while you guys have fun. But you have to come back and tell me all about it.”

“I sure will,” Bobby said with a smile. “You may be my Grandpa now, but you are still my hero, General.”

The old man’s eyes glistened as he puffed out his chest a bit, and then started to stir his ice cream when he noticed everyone looking at him.

“We’ll make a list later, and decide exactly who comes. You know everyone who comes will bring you a present?” Rachael said.

“No way,” Bobby said in surprise. “I don’t need presents. I just want all the people who love me to come and be with me.”

“You are a special little boy,” Maria said with tears in her eyes. “Now give your new daddy a kiss. He has to go home and get some sleep.” Rachael also gave her new dad a peck on the cheek and a deep hug. Maria then gave Geoff a kiss that should have curled his toes, before pushing him out the door. Soon after she also went up to her new bed, knowing that Rachael would look after the others.

When she had first Grandpa, and then Bobby, in bed Rachael kneeled at her bed.

Dear Lord

Thank you for such a perfect life. Carly was so happy that she gets a chance to be Top Girl. Please let her win it. And I think Bobby will burst when he finds out what his birthday present from Mom and … Dad … will be. Can you please find someone to help at the bakery? Jennifer is helping in the front, but there is too much to do at the back. And please let me help more people. I really like making people smile.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Not such a long wait between chapters: Dawn.

TUESDAY, May 31, 2016

On the bus ride in, which was now longer due to the circle route the bus took from the new house, Carly and Mikki tried as hard as possible to get Rachael to change her mind and run for Top Girl. Well, maybe not so much Carly, who said her Mom offered her a new wardrobe if she won. But Rachael was adamant, and would not be swayed.

When they finally got to school, Rachael realized that it would have taken less time to walk from Grandpa’s house to school than the bus took. Bobby’s bus went a more direct route, but if Rachael left right after Bobby’s bus did, she would be able to walk to the bakery, spend a few minutes there, and still get to school before the bus did. She decided to ask Maria to allow the school to let her walk, except when it was rainy. And with April and May over, there were less rainy days ahead.

In school on a B day the girls started with their project, which was starting to come together with only three more weeks to go. “At least we have all the filming done,” Carly commented, only to have Mikki reply. “Not if we want people at the cenotaph and stuff for the credits.

That meant that Carly’s task for the day was to create a schedule of everyone who had been in the film, and text or email them with an appointment to come to the cenotaph for their credit photo. The Legion helpers would all gather outside the Legion building for their photo. Mr. Churchill would be photographed outside the school, along with the other two teachers who had participated, even though the math teacher really only let them reschedule his classes. All the drama guys from the high school and their teacher would be shot outside the high school, which was on the same block as the middle school and the primary school.

The four girls decided that they would get Mikki’s dad to photograph them together, all saying “Thank You” before the other credits appeared. And everyone in the credits would be audio recorded saying ‘Thank You’. Mikki would dub those all together, and at the end of the film it would be inserted over a photo of Grandpa, so that the girls’ Thank You would have a double meaning, thanking those who helped with the film, and again as a thank you to all the veterans who had fought that war.

The final scene was a shot of the medal, and the words “This November, Wear a Poppy to Remember Them.”

While Carly was making the contacts for Saturday, Mikki was splicing the scenes together into a rough cut while Larissa and Rachael worked on the other computer cleaning up scenes. They were all busy through the three periods.

At lunch they all sat at the normal table, and as Rachael ate she quizzed Neal, asking if he had any sketches of Carly that they could use for Top Girl campaign posters. The artistic boy dove into the portfolio he always carried around and looked through it. “I’ve got one of you, Rachael,” he said forking over a paper, “but none of Carly. I could draw one tonight, or even in Science class if he just drones on and on again.

“This is me?” Rachael said, and she had to agree that the caricature did look like her. It was labeled Pepe, and clearly showed her black hair with blonde roots. Two months ago, the nickname Pepe really bothered her. After all, it was the name of a cartoon skunk. But since the change, she had laughed off the name and now few people were using it, since it no longer seemed to bother her.

“Sorry about the title,” Neal said, “but that was what everyone was saying back then.”

“You are really good,” Rachael said. “I bet you are looking forward to art in high school next year. “

“I’m not sure I will be going to high school with you guys,” Neal revealed. “Back in the fall I applied for a special art high school in Toronto. My grandma lives near it, or near a bus and subway ride to it, so I could live with her. I will hear sometime in the summer if I got accepted.”

“Wow. I will miss you,” Rachael said. “But you are good enough that you should do something. I guess that school is better, eh?”

“Well, when I applied it was because it was different, not better,” Neal admitted. “I was a loner here … all of us at the table were … until that day you and Mikki showed up. Now I have a girlfriend, and real friends, and I think I would miss you all if I go to Toronto. That can wait for college.”

“Wow, I thought you guys were friends before,” Rachael said.

“Not like we are now. I mean we mostly all sat together because of Robert.”

“Robert? What do you mean?”

“Well, back in our first year here, in Grade 5 there were some bullies. I got dumped in a trashcan three times in the first two weeks, and others were bullied too. Then one day Robert came by, and stood up to them, even though they were in Grade 7 and way bigger than him.”

“I’m used to fighting guys older than me. My twin brothers used to bully me at home, until JJ taught me some tricks. They could still beat me up, but I got in enough shots that they were hurt. They stopped beating me up once I started to fight back,” Robert said.

“So did you fight the bullies?” Rachael asked.

“Three times,” Neal said. “He was going to get kicked out of school for fighting. He really hurt those guys bad that last time. So me and a bunch of the other kids that were being bullied went to the principal, and told her what was really happening. They didn’t kick Robert out, but put him on probation for a few months. That’s when we all started to eat at the same table. Robert was our protection from bullies, and there really hasn’t been any bullying in school since then.”

“And I still eat with them because they stood up for me when the principal wanted to kick me out,” Robert said.

“I remember when Sean Hunt came over to the table when we first started sitting here, to tell us about Lucy filming my little story about gerunds. You stood up to protect me, didn’t you?” Rachael said.

“Yeah, I guess so. I didn’t know what he was planning on doing. I knew I wouldn’t let him hurt you.”

“My hero,” Rachael said, and leaned over and kissed Robert on the lips. His eyes widened and Rachael realized again that he was something special. A boy who stood up against bullies and for girls he really didn’t know.

After lunch it was a boring afternoon of Science and French, and then the last bell of May finally rang.

The girls went to pick up Bobby and Marc and then went to the bakery, where Rachael stopped, as the others went on, including Bobby, who would pick up his bike and helmet at Grandpa’s and then walk it until Marc could get his.

Rachael popped into the back, where she saw two very tired bakers kissing in front of the oven. Both Geoff and Maria brightened up when she teased them about making out on the job.

Rachael told her mother about her wish to walk to school, and Maria promised to phone the school. Then Rachael asked if it was all right if she went to Xcuts for a trim. “A trim, or to get rid of all that black?” Maria asked.

“To get rid of the black,” Rachael said. “A guy today reminded me how I used to get teased as Pepe Lepew, and I think it is long enough … the blonde part … for a nice short cut.”

“How much do you need?” Maria asked, going to her purse.

“None. I can cover it, I think,” Rachael said. “I’ll probably only be able to get an appointment today. Ariel is always booked solid.”

“You are only 13,” Maria said. “I still pay for haircuts.” She handed Rachael two twenties. “Enough?”

“Thanks Momma,” Rachael gave her a big hug. She then went to Geoff and said. “Do I get $40 for hugging Daddy too?”

“Get out of here, you scamp,” Geoff said, although he did enjoy the hug. As Rachael left the shop she heard him tell Maria: “It really makes all the hard work worthwhile, when they are such great kids.”

Next door at the salon, Rachael was surprised to see Ariel sprawled out in her chair, a little upset. “Fifteen minutes notice is not cancelling an appointment, it is just rude, she muttered, just loud enough for Rachael to hear.”

“Does that mean you are free? Could you give me a cut?” Rachael asked.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Ariel said, standing. “I’ve been wanting to get you into a chair since I first saw you when I opened. What did you do to your hair?”

“I was depressed. I decided to go with a Goth look last summer. I used a cheap drugstore dye job thing. There was enough left over that I was able to redo the roots once, but haven’t gotten anymore. I’d like to go back to blonde, if I can.”

“You did the roots about four months ago, didn’t you?” Ariel said. Rachael’s eyes widened. “How did you know that?”

“Most people’s hair grows about a half inch a month. You have a good two inches of blonde roots showing, so it makes sense that it has been four months. Luckily, that leaves enough blonde that we can just cut away the black. It would be a lot more work if you wanted to keep it long. Especially with an amateur dye job.”

“Short is fine with me,” Rachael said.

Ariel sat her in the chair and robed her. Then she started lifting her hair from one side to another, finally smiling. “You have a long, thin neck,” she said. “Short hair looks good if you are not too chunky.”

“I’m fat,” Rachael said.

“No you aren’t,” Ariel retorted. “And I think you have even lost weight since I first opened, haven’t you?”

“Yes, a little.”

“It shows.”

“Does it?”

“Yes, and your neck is the important thing anyway, and you have a skinny girl neck. I can give you a short and sassy look, that will make all the boys fight over you.”

“There is only one boy I care about,” Rachael said, “and he already will fight for me.”

Ariel and Rachael chatted for the next half hour, as snips of black-dyed hair fell onto the robe. Finally Ariel spun the chair around, and showed Rachael what she had done in the mirror.

“Wow, that is fantastic,” Rachael said as she looked at herself and the bright blonde hair that was now cropped close to her head, covering most of her ears, and barely an inch long in the back.

Rachael went back to the bakery, where she impressed Carol and Jennifer in the front, and then her parents in the back. She then speed-walked home and put her ham casserole into the oven. It should be ready at 6:30 when everyone got home.

Grandpa got a kiss, and she was told she looked like the pretty Dutch girls he had seen in the war, but was unable to kiss like his fellow soldiers, because he had his young wife Marie waiting for him in Canada.

Then it was off to the Stoner house, where Mikki answered the door, and didn’t know who it was until she spoke. Mikki squealed, and that brought Danni out as Rachael came in.

“It’s Rachael, Danni,” Mikki said. The little girl stopped for a second, squealed even louder than Mikki had, and then ran headlong into Rachael.

“You have hair like mine,” she gasped. “We are twins. It is beautiful.”

“So is yours,” Rachael said. “I decided I wanted really pretty hair like Danni.”

“I wish we could be sisters,” Danni gushed. “I mean, Mikki is a great sister, but we should be sisters.”

“We are sisters,” Rachael said. “Mikki is my BFF. Best Friend Forever. And that is like a sister. And if you are her sister, that makes me your sister too.”

“Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow,” the petite girl stammered. Rachael sat down, and Danni immediately climbed onto her lap.

“How is home school going,” Rachael asked. The little girl immediately lost her excited look.

“Not so good. It is nice not to be bullied, but I miss the other kids. And Mom is a hard teacher. I have to finish this French paper before she comes home.”

“Je t’aime,” Rachael said. “French is a beautiful language. Do you want me to help?’

“Yes, please. What did those words mean?”

“I love you. Je t’aime. Je is I, aime is love, and the t sound is from te, which means you. But in French it goes before aime, and the words get kinda rolled together like t’aime. Je t’aime.”

“Je t’aime,” Danni said to Rachael, and then turned to Mikki. “Je t’aime.”

“Remember that, and tell your Mom. See if she says merci beaucoup to you.”

“Mercy bough-coo,” Danni said. “What is that?”

“Merci beaucoup. Merci means thanks, and beaucoup means ‘a lot’,” Rachael said. “What do you need to learn for your Mom?”

“I need to be able to do the numbers to 20, and the days of the week. I can do up to 10 but I get mixed up on the others.”

Rachael spent a half hour with Danni, practicing her numbers, and the little girl seemed to be picking it up. That isn’t to say she would remember it after dinner, when her Mom tested her, but she did seem more confident.

“Can’t you stay for dinner?” Danni begged, and Mikki agreed.

“No, I have to run home right now and take our dinner out of the oven,” Rachael said and seconds later she was on the way home. She saw Bobby and Marc riding past her and she said “Time to go home for dinner, Bobby,” as they sped past. The boy nearly fell off his bike at the sound of his sister coming from a strange blonde girl.

“Rachael?” he asked tentatively.

“Yep. Do you like it?” she asked.

“Yeah, I do. It looks kinda like Danni’s but on a bigger girl. I like it more,” he said as he walked his bike along towards the house.

“Well don’t tell her that,” Rachael admonished. “Danni is still sensitive about her hair, and you have to tell her how much you like it.” Bobby nodded.

As they walked down the sidewalk from one direction, they could see their parents walking home hand-in-hand the other direction. They all arrived at the new house at the same time.

After supper was over, Geoff made plans to head back to the bakery to get some sleep before it was time to make the first bread. He realized that he could save time by just going upstairs after the bakery closed, but these dinners with his new family were important to him: more important than an extra hour of sleep.

“Momma, you should go with Geoff,” Rachael said. “You will be getting up in the middle of the night to go to work with him anyway. We three can look after ourselves.”

Maria hesitated, and then headed off with Geoff. “Just to sleep, and maybe cuddle a little. We will be too tired to do anything more,” she said.

“It would be nice just to spend more time with you,” Geoff suggested. He was in love, and was ignoring the fact that he spent the entire day working with Maria. But quiet time together was something lacking lately, and he was glad when she finally agreed, and went off with him. Rachael watched them walking back to work, still hand-in-hand, and smiled.

Grandpa, on the other hand, was upset. “They aren’t married yet,” he said. “That is a sin.”

“But times have changed, Grandpa,” Rachael said. Then she pulled her trump card. “I mean, I’ll bet when you were courting Marie her parents probably thought you were wild and crazy kids.”

“Oh yes,” the old man said, starting to smile. “Her mother wanted to chaperone us all the time when we were courting. Then there was the time I borrowed a friend’s old Model-T and took her down to the river to … cuddle. Her father wanted to come after me with a shotgun over that.”

The ploy had worked. Rachael knew that getting her grandpa thinking of his youth would make him less upset. But she was even surprised when he said “It is silly that they have to walk all the way to the bakery after supper. They can sleep here.”

“Together?” Rachael asked in surprise.

“Yes. They are getting married soon. It isn’t considered sinful any more for a young couple to sleep together, is it?”

“No it isn’t,” she said, hugging the beloved old man and giving him a kiss. “Have I told you lately how special you are to all of us? You are the best Grandpa ever.”

“Best Grandpa ever,” Bobby repeated from the floor, where he was reading his library books.

“Thanks kids. You all have brought a lot of joy back into my life over the past few months. You are pretty special yourselves.”

“Can you and Bobby look after each other, Grandpa? Perhaps he can read to you. He is getting to be a really good reader now.” Bobby looked up, beaming with pride. “I need to drop over to the church for about a half hour. I am teaching Pastor Helen how to make cookies tomorrow, and I need to see what they have there, and what I will have to bring along.”

She left them with Bobby on a contented Grandpa’s lap reading, and hustled the few blocks to the church, no longer as close as it was to the old house. As she walked past the old place, she saw that it was dark, although Pastor Helen’s old clunker was in the drive. Either she was in bed, or she was at the church, which was a close walk.

Rachael went into the front hall, which was still open. She had expected to have to get Gary to let her in. But the caretaker was in the hall, near the door. No less than six people were praying to the portrait John had made.

“You’re still open,” Rachael said softly to Gary, so as to not disturb those praying.

“Yes, we have kept the place open until midnight since Sunday. There has been a steady pace of people coming in. Sunday was busiest, from after services until we finally closed. I opened up at 8 a.m. on Monday, and there were already four people waiting outside. This morning there were 11, and people have been coming in all day. Monday there were a few spells when it was empty, but I don’t think it has been empty all day today. Word has gotten around.”

“I wonder why so many are coming,” Rachael said. “It is a beautiful painting, but …”

“It is special,” Gary said. “I see people coming in, worried, stressed out, even limping along in real pain. They pray, usually for a long time, and then they come out smiling or crying, but those crying show tears of joy. The ones that limped in tend to come out walking proudly and with no pain in their face. Something special happens when people pray here. I think it is like when you first met me. That kind of special. But the painting is doing it for everyone.”

“That sounds kinda unusual,” Rachael said.

“I only know what I see, and I’ve seen a lot these past three days. One man put $100 into the contributions box, and there are a lot of twenties. There are others who can’t afford to contribute, and many of them have come up to me and told me why. I tell them that Jesus will wait, and they can contribute when their lives are better. They leave happy, and it makes me happy. I loved this job before, but now it is just wonderful, watching people’s lives turn around.”

“There was a couple who came in this morning, barely talking to each other. When they kneeled down to pray, they took spots as far as possible from each other. After about five minutes, he got up and moved next to her, and she took his hand. They prayed for another half hour, and when they got up he put $40 in the box, and she told him to put in another $40. They came up to me, hand-in-hand, and told me that their prayers told them that they needed to work out their problems. She said: ‘I think our problems are gone. They were little things that we blew out of proportion, and it was challenging our marriage.’ They left arm-in-arm, looking like young lovers, not adults in their mid thirties,” Gary said. “Rachael, that painting is magic.”

“Not magic,” Rachael said, “but it sounds like God is working through it, somehow.”

Rachael then headed down to the kitchen as one of the praying men finally got up and approached Gary, with a massive smile on his face.

Rachael was nearly done checking the supplies, and had a small list of things to bring from home when she heard the booming voice of the deacon in the basement dinning hall. She didn’t want to eavesdrop, but she was holding a pantry door open that had a lot of pots and pans on it. She knew she couldn’t close the door without making a racket, so she overheard this: “You knew when you started here that it was only a temporary job, until the regular pastor was well again. He is now to the point where he can handle the job. The synod in Toronto gave us three months salary for you, as we couldn’t make do on our local contributions.”

“I knew all that,” Rachael recognized the voice of Pastor Helen, and immediately worried that she was listening to the young pastor getting fired. “I really love this congregation though, and we were moving things along so well. There is a bake sale this Saturday, and a special dinner on Wednesday.”

“For the homeless?” the deacon said.

“No. We changed it to a pay-what-you-can church dinner,” Helen said. “Gary is getting the word out to the homeless, so we expect a lot of them, but many of our parishioners have expressed interest in coming as well, just to get a mid-week chance to socialize.”

“Do you expect to make it pay?” the deacon said.

“We have a lot of donations for the first one, and we hope that the bake sale, along with a used equipment sale Gary is putting on will cover the costs. I really hope that we are starting something here that will last long after I am gone.”

“Well, don’t count on being gone so soon. Gary has spoken with many of the people who have been praying to the painting, and many of them say they are coming to the services Sunday. More than the church will hold, in his calculations. So I have decided that we will have two services each Sunday. You will give the early service, which we hope will be mainly our existing congregation, and then Pastor McNaughton will give the late service, for our new members. Thus we want to extend your contract for a full year. Are you interested?”

“Yes. Yes I am,” Helen said. “I have met so many people here. I was dreading leaving. Now … a year … that’s wonderful.”

“Think of it longer than a year,” the deacon said. “Pastor McNaughton is several years past retirement age. And I know he thinks highly of you. I’m pretty sure he would retire rather than send you away, if the effects of the painting ever taper off to the point we cannot afford a Youth Pastor. Welcome aboard. Your service on Sunday will be at 7:30 a.m.”

“Thank you sir,” Helen could be heard as footsteps could be heard walking away.

Helen then opened the slightly ajar door into the kitchen, and saw a guilty-looking Rachael standing there.

“Oh, it is you Rachael. I didn’t recognize you with that new hairdo. It looks gorgeous. I wish I could do something with my limp blahness.”

“I am so sorry,” Rachael said. “I didn’t mean to overhear anything, but I was in, checking on what we needed for tomorrow.

“You heard? Isn’t it wonderful? I thought he was going to cancel my contract at first, but instead he extended it. And it sounds like it will be permanent. I’m so happy I could dance,” Helen said, and to prove it she grabbed Rachael’s hands and swung her around.

“And your hair looks fine,” Rachael told the giggling Pastor. “I know a certain police officer who thinks it looks wonderful.”

“Steve,” Helen gushed. “We have talked about … things. But with me on a short-term contract … Do you know that he was willing to wait until I got a permanent posting somewhere else, and then apply to the local police force there? And now I practically have a permanent posting here. Isn’t it wonderful.”

“I didn’t know that you and Steve were so far along,” Rachael said. “He is a great guy. I’m so happy for you.”

“He hasn’t bought a ring yet, or at least I don’t think he has. And he hasn’t asked yet, but I think it will be soon. Especially now.”

“I wish I could stay and celebrate with you,” Rachael said. “But I’ve been here longer than I expected, and I have to get home to put Bobby to bed.” And Grandpa, she thought.

“And I will have to get on the Church Ladies calling lists tomorrow and let them know about the early service. Should we call it a Sunrise Service? You and your family are notified, right? We won’t call you.”

Rachael left with her list, as Helen danced back towards her office.

Rachael got home over an hour after she had left, and found a worn-out Grandpa telling Bobby war stories. Bobby was changing. When he first met Grandpa he had loved the stories of battles and fighting. But now, after the many remembrances Grandpa had shared at their suppers, he was more interested in the stories of times where the soldiers helped the French and later the Dutch citizens try to get their lives together after the war.

There was relief on his face when Rachael ordered Bobby up to his bath, and Grandpa was ready for bed himself. Rachael helped him to his room, and unbuttoned his shirt, replacing it with his blue pyjama tops. Once he was in bed, she kissed him, apologizing for being away so long.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said. “I love the boy, and he is so good. It is like his youth is making me young again. Both of you listen to my stories of the old days, and that makes me feel that age again, even if it is just while I am talking.”

Bobby, in spite of all the stories and reading he had done with Grandpa still insisted on a half hour with Rachael and Harry Potter. He soon nodded off, and left Rachael to get ready for bed herself.

Dear Lord

Thank you for having Pastor Helen get a regular posting. She has done so much for the church in only a few weeks, and there is so much more she is working on. Please kick Steve in the butt to get him to propose. And thank you for finding me such a great guy myself. I didn’t know that he had fought to stop bullying in the school. What a special boy. I hope we can be in love forever. I’ll have to get him to come to see the painting. Is it really that special? A tool for you to make people’s lives better? If it is, then thanks for letting it happen here, at our little church.

I hope you get this message. I am a blonde now. I’ll try not to bounce too much of the sunlight back at you.

I love you. Amen.

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Another long wait between Chapters. Maybe I should ask Rachael to pray for me to get another one out soon: Dawn.

WEDNESDAY, June 1, 2016

June. Finally: lovely June. School will be out in just over three weeks, with the last day of classes on June 28, and with a PD day on June 8 next Wednesday. The other important day this month is June 17, when the video needs to be handed in. Rachael’s team has practically finished theirs, except for the credits, which they would record on Saturday morning. After that there will be a day or two putting it all together, and then it would be done. Of course Mikki will continue to fiddle with it right to the deadline: she is really OCD about it. Rachael decided she was really into filmmaking, and might even be looking to go to film school after high school. And this was the shy, lonely kid who sat down next to her on the bus a couple months ago.

Rachael didn’t ride on the bus today. She walked to school after making sure Bobby got on his bus. Rachael even wondered if the bus was necessary for Bobby anymore. He really seemed to have matured over the past weeks. He had a bike now, and good friends that he rides all over town with. Last night when Rachael was reading to him, he said ‘Merci, Rachael’. Apparently Marc was teaching him a bit of French, beyond what he learns in the one day a week of French they get in Grade Four.

Rachael stopped in to the bakery to say hi to Mom and Dad (she loved calling him that, almost as much as he loved hearing it). Geoff has probably been working since 11, and Mom since 6, so they were well into their day, and Rachael liked seeing the smile they got on their faces when they saw her. This was way better than riding a bus for an hour.

It turned out that Tony Dasilva walked in at about the same time, so Rachael walked in with him. She knew she would have to tell Mikki, so that she would know Racheal was not after her boyfriend. Tony is nice, but a whole world apart from Robert, in Rachael’s eyes.

In English class, during the first period, Mrs. Cathcart announced that she expected a written script from each group, to give her something to mark for the project. That brought groans from all the students. Rachael volunteered to do that for their group, since the script was kind of her thing. But Mikki did look up the way that movie scripts were presented in Hollywood, and said that Rachael only had to do the left side, with the dialog, and she would then do the right side, with the action description. The other two girls would proofread the results in hopes of getting an A mark.

The morning classes today were for the video, and Rachael’s group didn’t have anything more to do on that, so in the class before lunch Mr. Churchill said they could put up campaign posters for Carly as Top Girl. Apparently in the past people got carried away with postering, so now each candidate was only allowed 10 posters. That is really all that was needed … it isn’t that big a school. A couple in the library, three in the cafeteria, and five in the halls would do it. Several of the girl candidates already had posters up, and one of the boys.

Neal, their artist, had drawn four really cute caricatures of her, and the girls decided to write a different caption on each one. Rachael suggested one say “Vote for me or my Mom will beat you up” as a joke, but Carly loved that, and insisted it go on two of the posters. Another four got “Carly Cares” and Rachael wrote “Carly: Cute and Clever” on another without asking. The other three just said “Vote Carly,” which what was what most of the other candidates posters said.

“Nine other girls,” Carly moaned when they found out how many candidates were running for Top Girl. “That will make it hard to win.”

“Not really,” Rachael pointed out. “There are what, 120 students in Grades Seven and Eight. That means only 12 people per candidate on average. You could win with as few as 25 votes, if everyone gets a few votes. There are only three running for Top Boy, so they will need to get maybe 50 votes to win.”

“I guess I will have to trust you,” Carly said with a smile. “After all, you are the math whiz.”

“Posters are a small thing,” Rachael said. “We have to go out into the Grade Seven tables at lunch and talk to them. Talk up the movie nights. Carly organized that one I couldn’t get to. Tell the sevens that they should start their own, and maybe suggest that three or four (no more) go to the library and ask about arrangements.”

The lunch bell rang, and the girls headed to the cafeteria. Rachael stopped at the door for a second, noticing a lot of faces staring at her, and more all the time. It was the new hairstyle. Everyone thought that she was a new student, and a cute one at that. Then she noticed someone at the old Goth table. It was Angela Smith, a girl the old Rachael had occasionally sat with. There seemed to be a small cloud over her head, and as she recognized Rachael, the cloud seemed to grow larger and darker.

“Come on Rachael,” Mikki said, tugging her arm.

“No. I have something to do. You guys go on, and don’t forget to visit the grade sevens.” She headed towards Angela, who seemed to become more and more hidden by the black cloud that no one else seemed to see.

“Hi Ang,” Rachael said. “Can I sit here?”

“It’s a free world,” the Goth girl said tartly. “I’ll move somewhere else.” She stood.

“I wanted to sit with you,” Rachael said putting her lunch sack down. She moved closer to Angela, and taking a chance, enveloped her arms around her. “You look like you need a hug.”

“No,” a resisting Angela said. “I hate you. Stop.” She was tense for a second, and just as Rachael was about to obey and let go, she sagged into the blonde girl and sobbed. “But I do need a hug.”

After nearly a minute, Angela slumped back into her seat, and Rachael sat down next to her. “I don’t hate you, Rachael. I’m just pissed at you a bit. First you dump all the Goth kids and then you get all new friends, and they get all popular. Now you walk in looking like a fashion model. I mean, your hair looks wonderful, and really makes you look cute. You’ve lost weight too, haven’t you?”

“A few pounds,” Rachael said. The cloud seemed a bit smaller, and less black. “You can’t be mad at me for that. You always were skinny and cute.”

“Cute? Not me. Under all this Goth makeup is a face covered in freckles.”

“Freckles and gorgeous red hair,” Rachael said, drawing on old memories of earlier years. “But then you went Goth in Grade Seven. That was why I went Goth at the start of Grade Eight. You looked good either way.”

“But now Goth is almost dead,” Angela said. “Most of the other girls have left since you switched over, and some of the guys have gotten girl friends and are less into it. I think I am the last one, other than the druggies.”

“So maybe it is time for you to change,” Rachael said. “They have stopped calling me Pepe now. You go back to red, and they might stop teasing you with Devila.”

Angela smiled a bit, and the black cloud shrank again. “I hate that nickname. Middle school students aren’t nearly as clever as they think they are.”

“Did you dye your hair yourself, or at a salon?” Rachael asked.

“At Miss Vikki’s downtown. And I think I’ve had it touched up about seven times.

Rachael took out her phone, and dialed Ariel’s personal number. “Hi Ariel. Do you have a time today to take another rehab client?” Angela couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation. “A close friend of mine. Black on Red. Waist length. Seven updates. At Miss Vikkis. Great.”

“She has a light schedule today, and will take you in. It’s going to take a couple hours, although a lot of that time will be you sitting there letting the chemicals do their work. Let’s eat lunch as we walk there,” Rachael said.

As they walked out of the cafeteria, Angela asked. “Am I really a close friend of yours, or were you just saying that to get me in?”

Rachael again hugged her, and said: “Yes. I am blessed with a lot of friends, but you are one of my oldest ones. I am sorry for ignoring you lately. I want you to join our table tomorrow. And don’t make plans for Thursday night. I’m going to find you a date for movie night.”

“A date? Who would go out with me? Are you serious?”

“Yep. This is Xcuts, and this is Ariel. I’m heading back to the school. I’ll tell the teacher why you skipped.” As Angela sat in Ariel’s chair, Rachael noticed that the tiny grey cloud above her head popped out of existence, and Rachael hurried back to school.

With only five or so minutes left in lunch, Rachael quickly found the student she was looking for. Byron O’Shea sat with a group of Grade Sevens, all of which were into computers and programming. Byron was a sort of guru for the younger boys, which partially made up for him being largely shunned by his own grade.

“Byron,” Rachael said. “Got a minute?”

“Sure. Are you campaigning for Carla? They were over just a few minutes ago.”

“No, something else. Two things actually. One is to make a web page for my parent’s bakery. Right now there are a lot of phone orders. It would be cool if there could be a web page that lets people order online, and then pickup in the store later.”

“That sounds cool,” Byron said. “I’m 90 percent sure I could build that. There are modules available that should do it: e-commerce stores. But I’d prefer to try and code it myself.”

“Great. We’ll have to get together next week with my parents. Next thing? Do you have $2?”

Byron pulled out a toonie, and slid it across the table to Rachael. “What’s that for?”

“You want to go on a date Thursday? With a real pretty girl?”

“Who?”

“Angela Smith.”

“The Goth girl? I guess I could. This is that movie night thing I’ve heard about, isn’t it?”

“Yep. And Angela won’t be a Goth much longer. Just come to the library branch a bit before 7 and have a ride home at 9. The movie is The General, and there will also be a bunch of Charlie Chaplin shorts before it.”

“Buster Keaton, I like him,” Byron said, impressing Rachael as the first student all week that had heard of the comic from the last century.

Rachael then headed to the Science lab; only to find that there was going to be a pop quiz. She approached the teacher and told him that Angela would miss the test. He was quite upset about it at first, until Rachael noted that it was a mental health absence and that Angela had been close to a suicide point. At the word suicide (which Rachael only guessed was the cause of the black cloud) the teacher did a complete 180. Since Rachael’s attempt a few months earlier, the teachers were on watch for problems, and he agreed to prepare another version of the test for Angela.

After French class, the girls headed home, with Rachael only popping into the bakery for a second. Larissa had to stop in to pick up an order her Mom had made earlier in the day so the entire group was able to leave together after Rachael got back after delivering her hugs to the back.

At Grandpa’s Bobby got his bike, and after giving Grandpa a quick hug he raced out to catch up to the others then walking his bike the rest of the way to Marc’s house, where the two rode off to find Jerry.

Rachael gave Grandpa a longer hug, and as she gathered up supplies for the church she told Grandpa: “I think Geoff is getting dinner tonight. Swiss Chalet chicken. I’ll make myself a bite at the church. I won’t be back until late. Here, let me unbutton your shirt so it will be ready when you go to bed. You don’t need to button the PJs up.

Minutes later Rachael was at the church, and saw that there were even more people in the lobby for prayers in front of the painting. Rachael nodded to Gary and headed down to the kitchen where Helen was waiting.

For the next five hours the two women baked, turning out multiple batches of cookies. They did peanut butter, chocolate chip, chocolate cake cookies, brownies, Nanaimo Bars, oatmeal cookies, and sugar cookies, which Helen decided to make in the shape of a cross. At about nine, Steve had come down, and Helen was so proud to give her man cookies that she had baked herself. Earlier Gary had dropped down, noting that the aromas were making all the praying people hungry. He too enjoyed sampling the wares before heading back upstairs.

“It is so rewarding,” Helen said as they were cleaning up and packaging the cookies on paper plates for the sale, “when people react like that to something you made. It just makes me feel so good inside.”

“I like it too,” Rachael started to say, when there was a loud noise from the lobby, sounding like wood splintering. The women both rushed to see what was happening.

When they got there, they found both Steve and Gary on the floor struggling with a third man. The donations box for the prayers had been torn off the wall, and the back had shattered. Money was strewn across the floor with the third man vainly trying to hold onto some twenties.

Steve finally subdued the man enough to get some of those nylon ties around his wrists. There was a massive welt on the side of the officer’s face, and it looked as though a black eye was forming.

The third man was now exhausted from the struggles. Gary was gathering up the money from the donation box, and Rachael noted that several others helped, but all handed the money to Gary. Four people were so deeply in prayer that they hadn’t even turned around during the commotion.

“What did you do that for?” an irate Steve asked, as he gently probed the spot where the man’s elbow had crashed into his face as he had wrestled with Gary, who was first on the scene.

“I … I … I need … a dose … of oxy. No money. I heard … lotsa money here.”

“Mike Campbell,” Steve said, looking through the man’s wallet. “Are you still living at 39 Whey Street?”

The man shook his head slowly. “No. Kicked out. Three months ago. I need a dose. Bad.”

“You’re going to be spending the night in the Woodstock lockup,” Steve said. “You’re lucky I am out of uniform, or you’d also be charged with assaulting a policeman. I’ll call the station to have a car sent out for you.”

“NO! Wait.” It was Helen, speaking more forcefully than Rachael had ever heard. The pastor turned to Gary. “Did he pray first?”

“No, he just came in, saw the donations box and ripped it off the wall with that crowbar. He dropped the bar to pick up money, luckily. He could have cause some serious damage to us with that.”

“I want to pray with him before you call the station,” Helen said in her forceful tone.

“WHAT?” Now it was Steve shouting. “You will not. He nearly knocked me out. He’s not going near you. That’s final.”

“You are not my husband yet,” Helen said, steel in her voice. “And even if you were, you would not order me about like that. I feel this man needs help, and the help is on the wall over there.” With that, she took the man’s left arm gently, while Steve held the right arm in a much less gentle manner, but still allowing her to lead the man to the nearest prayer spot.

“Can I have a dose first,” Mike asked. “I really need a dose.”

“No,” Helen’s voice was soft and caring again. “I want to give you something much better. Kneel on this carpet, and then look up at the painting.”

Mike did as requested, and then slumped into a prayer position. He would have smashed into the floor if Steve had not had his arm so firmly.

“Please cut the restraints,” Helen said.

“But …” Steve stopped his argument at the glare she gave him, and nodded to Gary who had already pulled out his pocket knife.

When released Mike moved his hands to support himself, and then Helen grabbed his left hand and prayed with them. After several minutes, she turned and looked at Steve and nodded for him to step back. Steve still had a hand on Mike’s arm, but reluctantly let go, to allow his girlfriend to pray alone with the man who had just smashed his face in a drug-induced frenzy.

Rachael had gone to the kitchen and made up an ice bag, and she handed it to Steve to use on his face and eye. They stood and waited and Gary tried to make the donations box usable again. There were still people coming and going as Mike and Helen prayed. Finally Helen stood, and then Mike. They turned and came up to Rachael, Steve, and Gary. Mike flung himself to the floor in front of them.

“Please. I am so sorry for hurting you. Call the police. I don’t deserve to live with good people like you.” Mike glanced at the painting. “He told me I am cured from my addiction, but I owe so much to so many.”

Mike then gave his story. He was 31, and had been on drugs for five years, almost four years ago it had gotten so bad that he had been fired from the bakery he worked at in London, and had returned to his hometown of Ingersoll where the addiction got worse and worse. He had broken into homes to steal goods to pawn, and even had broken into a pharmacy before they stopped storing Oxycodone in their shops. He had been 12 days without a dose, and it had been trying to break the habit, but his cold turkey had led him to this rage to get money, and then a dose.

“He told me that this drug was insidious,” Helen said, referring to the painting. “It makes a little spot in the brain that only it can fill, and from that point on the person just can’t do anything but work to get another dose to fill the hole. The Lord has filled the hole with love, and Mike is no longer addicted.”

“That sounds like what they’ve told us about Oxy at the station,” Steve said. “Now we have to decide what to do. The cop in me wants to lock him up, but what is that going to do? The soon-to-be Pastor’s husband says he won’t be helping society, and it is 50-50 that he’ll wind up addicted to something else. But where will he stay? What will he do?”

“He can stay in my shed,” Gary said. “I can give him work to do. No pay, but having work is an important step to recovery. I know.”

“What did you do in that bakery?” Rachael said, asking the question that she had since she learned Mike had worked in a bakery.

“I was a baker. I took the diploma program at George Brown College in Toronto after high school, and then worked over five years in Angelo’s in London. In the back. As a baker. I had papers, but who knows what happened to them over the past few years.

“I want him,” Rachael said. “My Dad needs help in his bakery. Constable Steve, can you take him down there? It must be past 11. Dad will be working by now. I’ll come along, and help explain to Dad.”

She turned to Mike. “This is your Second Chance. It isn’t a job. Not yet. You will have to prove yourself to my Dad, Geoff. If you work hard, and can show you know your stuff, he’ll probably keep you on. I know he was going to pay good money, but at first you will be on probation. It is up to you as to whether or not you succeed.”

“Okay,” Steve said, although he didn’t sound 100 percent convinced. He looked at Helen: “You are a special lady, and I want you to be my wife. I’m not asking now, just letting you know that I will be asking soon. You won’t object to being asked by a man with a black eye, will you?”

“No silly. Ask when you feel right. You do know what the answer will be, don’t you?”

Steve drove Rachael and Mike to the bakery, where Geoff was just getting started. Steve and Rachael explained the situation, with Steve making sure that Mike was brought here instead of a jail cell. Rachael stressed Mike’s background, and that he could ease the workload for Geoff and Maria.

Steve then drove Rachael home to a dark house. And Rachael went up to bed.

Dear Lord

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m sure you have answered my prayer for a baker to help Mom and Dad. I just wish we could have found him in a less painful way for Steve. And thank you for helping me find Angela before it was too late. The black cloud does mean what I think it does, doesn’t it. She will have a new look tomorrow, and maybe even a boyfriend. And Steve and Helen. How perfect for them.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

In this episode we go shopping. But don’t get excited. It is man shopping. In the store and out as soon as possible. One good retail experience and one not so good Not such a long wait between chapters: Dawn.

THURSDAY, June 2, 2016

The sky was just starting to lighten as Maria walked to the bakery. She couldn’t imagine how much darker 4 a.m. would seem in the winter. She came to the back door of the bakery and slipped inside, where she saw Geoff at the mixer. She waited until he finished dumping in the flour: you don’t disturb someone emptying a 40 kg bag, even to give him a morning kiss.

He stood, and turned, and Maria made a quick “Eeeep.” It was not Geoff, but another man. She looked about in panic, and then saw Geoff standing at the other side of the bakery, chuckling.

“Were you planning on giving Mike a welcome to the bakery?” Geoff said, realizing what Maria had been thinking. She always greeted him with a kiss at work: it was one of the things that made the long hours worthwhile.

“I’m sorry,” Maria told the new man, who was Geoff’s height, but much thinner. His face was also covered in small, dark red spots. “I didn’t know that Geoff had hired someone.” She turned to Geoff: “When exactly were you planning to tell your partner about the new baker,” she said sharply.”

“Just about now,” Geoff said with a smile, walking over to his fiancé. “It happened all of a sudden last night. Rachael found Mike, and brought him in. He’s been doing a bang up job for the past five hours. He really knows his stuff.”

“Your daughter said it was my second chance,” Mike said. “If it wasn’t for her, and that nice lady pastor, I’d be sleeping in a jail cell right now. I like this much better. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed baking. I hope I can make this work.”

Geoff accepted his belated kiss, and then explained what had happened at the church the night before as the three worked. The spots on Mike’s face were from trying to shave with an old blade upstairs. Geoff had taken all his shaving gear to the new house. Mike still had scraggly long hair, but this was contained in a hairnet similar to the ones that Maria and the other girls wore when working in the back. Mike was also wearing some of Geoff’s old clothes, having taken a shower upstairs while the first bread was rising. None of Geoff’s belts would fit the skinny man, so a piece of cord held the too-large trousers up.

Maria realized that the two were hours ahead of normal in production for the day, and after only an hour she moved over to do prep work for the store: work that Carol had been doing lately. Perhaps they were going to finally catch up and have the store still containing some stock at the end of the day.

Rachael was four-and-a-half hours behind her mother in walking to the bakery. She was a bit unsure what she would find when she walked in, and was pleasantly surprised when she slipped in the door, and saw Mike and Geoff working together to take a fourth batch of Love Bread out of the oven.

“Hi sweetie,” Geoff said.

“Hello, Miss,” Mike said, continuing to work as he spoke. “I want to thank you again for making all this possible. I love working here with your parents. You don’t know how much this means to me. I would have gone to jail, and then back into the hell I was in before. I thank the Lord that he sent you to me.”

“Well, you are thanking the right person,” Rachael said. “The Lord has been working through that painting, and it is Him you need to pray to.”

“I will, Miss,” Mike said. “And I will pray for you as well.”

“You will need to, if you keep calling me ‘Miss.’ It is Rachael, please.”

“Thank you … Rachael,” Mike said. “With parents like yours it is clear how you turned out to be such a nice girl.”

Rachael headed off to school after a few more minutes. She was eager to see how Angela’s session had turned out at Xcuts yesterday.

As she waited for Angela’s bus to come in, she saw Byron also waiting, and went over to talk to him. They were chatting about the Bakery web page when she saw the boy freeze up, looking over her shoulder.

Rachael turned, and shouted out a joyful “Yeep,” as she saw Angela coming down the bus steps. She was Goth no more, and wore a blue floral top and a while skirt. Her hair was a glorious mass of crimson. Ariel was known for her shorter, designer cuts, but Angela’s style was almost as long as before, with all the black dye removed. She had bangs swept over her eyes, and longer bangs along her jawline. But the bulk of her red hair still went to her lower back. She also had much less makeup on, and her freckles shone through. They were less intense than Rachael’s old memories remembered. In fact they were quite cute.

Rachael ran up to her old friend, hugging her tightly, then stepping back while holding both her hands.

“Do you like it?” Angela asked.

“I love it. I’m surprised you have so many nice things. That outfit is perfect. When I stopped being Goth, I had trouble finding colors to wear,” Rachael babbled.

“Oh, my Mom kept buying me stuff with color, hoping I will give up Goth. She almost fell over when I came down the stairs looking like this at breakfast,” Angela said, gaining confidence as she talked to Rachael.

“Come on,” Rachael said. “I want to introduce you to someone.” She turned around and saw Byron standing with his mouth wide open. As the two girls started to approach, the boy hesitated for a minute, then bolted into the school.

“Oh, I guess he isn’t ready to meet you yet,” Rachael said.

“He hates me,” Angela said. “I must look ugly. It’s the freckles, isn’t it? I knew I should have put more makeup on.”

“Don’t be crazy,” Rachael answered. “Those freckles look perfect. If Byron doesn’t like them, there will be 20 … no 40 other boys in the class who will want to date you.”

“There are only about 40 boys in our grade,” Angela pointed out.

“Exactly. And just you remember that Robert is mine.”

Just then Rachael’s former bus arrived, and the girls got off and came up to the other girls, squealing just as much as Rachael had at her first sight of Angela. Soon their compliments and congratulations made Angela more and more confident in her new look.

Rachael caught up to Byron before first period. “What is wrong with you?” she said, lightly slapping him across the head. “Angela thought you didn’t like her new look.”

“I can’t date someone like that,” Byron confessed. “Even if it is just a $2 movie night. She is too beautiful. Someone on the cool kids table will pick her up. I’m just a nerd. Dating a Goth girl sounded okay, but when she comes in looking like that … ”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Rachael said. “She is gorgeous, I agree. But you already have a date lined up. Don’t blow it. Even if she does move on to another boy, you will have had a date with her. Other girls will see you as more dateable. And she just might like you. You are smart and good looking, for a shorter guy. And you are still taller than her. You better show up at our table at lunch, and be ready to make plans.”

“I guess,” Byron said as they sat down to class.

At lunch Byron did sit with the group, as did Angela, who reveled in being with a group that accepted her as a friend. She wondered a bit about the quiet computer-geek that she was dating tonight, who seemed to only be able to stare at her.

“Why are you staring at me?” she finally asked. “Don’t you like what you see?”

“No. I mean yes,” Byron stuttered. “It is just that you are so beautiful. You are the most beautiful girl in the school. Maybe the world.”

Angela blushed, and then said: “Okay, good answer. I guess you can stare then. Do you still want to go to movie night with me?”

“Yes please,” Byron said. The ice was broken and the two then started making plans to meet at the library.

---------

While Rachael was eating lunch, two of Gary’s old drinking buddies found him at the church shed. One was a stout fellow named Chipper, and he was with a taller man who went by Skid. Both were suffering from DTs, and begged Gary for some money to buy booze. It was three days until the welfare checks came in, and Gary remembered how bad those times were.

“I can lend you something,” Gary said, “but only if you come into the church and pray with me for a few minutes.”

“Okay,” Skid said. “Is it true that this church is going to do meals on Wednesdays?”

“Starting next Wednesday,” Gary said. He could hardly understand the slur of the men. Had he been this bad? Both men had long beards, and long scraggly hair. Chipper was wearing shoes that were duct-taped together. Skid wore better work boots, but both men were dressed in what were essentially rags. And that was giving ‘rags’ a broad definition.

The two-minute prayers turned into 15 minutes, and while the men knelt before the painting, Gary went to the kitchen, returning with a pitcher of cold water and three glasses.

When the men finally stood up, they gratefully took a glass of water from Gary, and drank deeply. They each had three or four glasses to the one Gary sipped at.

“What just happened?” Chipper said. “I feel good, and I haven’t felt good for nine years.”

“Me too,” Skid said. “I feel great.” Both men were speaking clearly now, and no longer had the shakes. Just then Pastor Helen came into the lobby to give Gary a break to go to lunch. Gary introduced her to the men, and she shook their hands sincerely, not worrying about the dirt or the way they dressed. The church motto was “All are welcome” and she lived up to those words.

“Can you take over for a little longer, today?” Gary asked. Usually he only took 15 minutes to eat lunch. “A couple hours, at least? I need to feed these guys, and get them cleaned up.”

“No problem Gary,” she said. “Take what time you need. I was going to bake this afternoon, but I will start when you get back.”

Gary led the two men back into the shed, and showed them the shower. Each of them took a turn washing and shampooing their filthy hair using Gary’s supplies. As they came out, he gave each of them a navy t-shirt from the ones he had recently bought for himself at the Goodwill store. The painting had told him to stop donating all his pay back to the church, and to build up a reserve.

The shirt was embarrassingly tight on Chipper, but much better than what he had been wearing for the past five months. Skid’s shirt fit better. Both men had to wear their old pants, but Gary found an old pair of sneakers for Chipper that were a size too big, but workable.

The men followed their lengthy showers with a spell at the sink, where Gary loaned each a razor blade to let them shave their matted beards away. Meanwhile, Gary was cooking up a meal. It was only a pair of cans of tinned stew, but the aromas had the men salivating.

Skid finished shaving first, and was setting the small table as Gary manned the hotplate. Chipper finished shaving, and sighed in relief at having a smooth face. His eyes caught sight of two boxes of barber clippers. These were from Xcuts. Gary had taken the broken clippers Ariel had given him and cobbled together three good sets, leaving only spare parts in the one box. When he presented the fixed tools to Ariel, she had squealed with joy, and then gave him the ones she had been using, asking that he sharpen and tune them. It was this box that Chipper had noticed.

“This takes me back,” the chubby man said. “I was a barber for 10 years. I had to give it up when I got the shakes. Look.” He picked up a set of clippers, and held it out. His eyes went wide.

“You don’t seem to be shaking at all,” Gary noted, stirring the stew.

“I don’t,” Chipper gasped. “I mean, I bet I could cut hair again.” He looked at Skid. “Are you up for a trim.”

“God yes, it would be great to get rid of this mop. It isn’t as bad now that it is clean, but I’d love to have you cut it.”

“And maybe I can teach one of you guys how to cut mine,” Chipper said.

“After lunch,” Gary said. “I’ll bet you guys are hungry.”

They were. With no soup kitchen in town on Wednesdays the men hadn’t eaten for nearly two days, and the Tuesday meal had been at the Catholic Church hall, and they tended to have smaller portions. Far less than a man Chipper’s size desired.

The shed was quiet as the three men ate their meal of stew and Love Bread.

“Good bread,” Chipper said as he took a break from filling his face.

“Good food,” Skid agreed, as he shoveled in another spoon of stew.

Gary ate lightly, with a small bowl of stew and several slices of bread, leaving most of the food to the men. When the stewpot was scrapped clean, Chipper took it and a slice of bread. “This is probably pretty rude, but I’m doing it anyway,” he said, as he wiped the edges and bottom of the pot with the bread, getting the last possible bits of gravy out. The pot looked nearly clean when he was done.

“That was great,” he said when he finished the last bit of gravy and bread. “Now to work. Pull your chair up to the door, so I have good light,” he told Skid.

“Wait,” Gary said. “Come with me.” He led the men back to the unorganized part of the shed. He moved a few things, and suddenly uncovered an old 1950s barber chair. “Will this help?”

“That is perfect,” Chipper said. “It looks in great shape.” The three men hauled the heavy chair out near the door, and found that while the pump to raise the seat didn’t work, it was otherwise in good, if not great, condition.

Skid sat in it, and Chipper took the scissors and tools that were waiting to be sharpened. He started clipping and snipping, all the while explaining what he was doing to Gary, in hopes that the caretaker could cut his hair after.

It took a half hour, but at the end Skid looked nothing like the hobo who had come into the shed several hours earlier. Chipper sat down and, watching carefully in the mirror Skid held, led Gary through the process of cutting the barber’s hair.

“Not bad for a first attempt,” Chipper said, as he looked at his hair in the mirror. “I feel like a new man. I could give cuts to all the guys … if I could borrow the chair and the tools. In fact, I think at least one more clipper could be built out of those spare parts.”

Gary suddenly had an idea. He had several things ready for the bake sale on Saturday, which was going to include a sale of refurbished items from the shed. But looking after the lobby had taken a lot of his time, and he hadn’t nearly enough work done.

“Guys, I have a deal for you. If you want, you can stay here tonight, and until Sunday at least. I’ll feed you, and get you some better fitting clothes. Then one of you can look after the lobby while the other helps me in here fixing up things for our sale on Saturday.”

“I’m pretty good at tinkering and fixing stuff,” Chipper said.

“Great. What about you, Skid? What did you do before … ?”

“I was a carpenter. A pretty good one, too. I mostly did decks and additions, the odd bathroom or kitchen, but I did do a few complete houses.”

“Roofs? Shingling?” Gary asked.

“Piece of cake,” Skid said.

“Well we have a few projects around here you could work on. The church needs a new roof badly, and also there is a balcony that we can’t use. The fire marshal closed it down years ago because there is only the one exit. If we could get a fire escape built at the other end, we could get another 150 seats to the services. And that side of the church is hidden from the road, so it doesn’t have to look pretty.”

“If I build anything on His church, then it will look pretty,” Skid vowed. “I’ll take a look and maybe I can draw something up while I am looking after the lobby.”

Just then the van from the Bread Baron pulled into the lane to the shed. Mike hopped out and approached the men. “Hi Gary,” he said. “I’m just off work, and Geoff gave me the van and a few dollars advance. I was going to Goodwill or somewhere to buy clothes and shaving stuff. Get a haircut too. I was wondering if you needed anything.”

“Well we can handle the haircut right here,” Chipper said cheerfully. “Step into my barber shop.” He led Mike in, and half an hour later the baker had a cut shorter than Geoff’s.

“I will take you up on your offer to head out,” Gary said. “While you were getting beautiful, I checked in the Pastor Helen, and she is happy looking after the lobby. We can take an hour or two to get you guys all accommodated.”

They drove first to Goodwill, and were astounded to find a rack of beige trousers in all sizes for only $5 each. It turned out that there was a defect in the sewing, with a darker shade of material on one panel. The manager came out to make sure the men knew the pants were seconds, and explained.

“They were made in China,” she said. “Lately they have been turning out pretty good product, but they work a pretty tight operation there, and I guess someone decided to ship defective product to Canada rather than miss deadlines. I managed to get them from the importer for fifty cents a pair. I thought it would be a no-brainer to move them, but no one wants defective trousers, I guess. The 16 pairs you fellows have are the first ones we have sold. And I have about 100 more in the back.”

“Really,” Gary said. “What would you sell the lot for?”

“If you guys pay $5 each for the pairs you have, I’d sell the rest at cost. That would be 16 pairs at $5 each, and the other 132 for $66 total.”

“Sold,” Gary said. “Now we need t-shirts, socks and men’s underwear. I got some nice navy t-shirts for $4 each a week or so ago.”

“Yes, I thought I recognized my shirts on three of you. We still have a lot of them left.”

“How much by the dozen: like two dozen?” Gary asked.

“I can do $3 each. No, $2.50.”

“Socks?”

“I have these packages of 10 pairs for $5 a package.”

“I’ll take five. Underpants?”

“I have three brands. The Stanfield’s are cheapest with packs of five for $8.”

“10 packs,” Gary said.

“$60 then,” the manager said.

“Finally, sneakers. What size are you, Chipper?”

“Nine wide,” the barber said.

“I have some used ones,” she said. “Pick anything from the middle shelf and I’ll throw it in free. You are buying a lot.”

It was a lot, about $220 for the entire bill, although it was split up with Mike paying $40 for his share. The back of the van was loaded with clothes, with Gary promising to return the hangers the next week.

From there Mike drove them to a Shopper’s Drug Mart, where all the men wanted to buy toiletries. They entered the store and headed straight for the shaving section. Each man picked up a packet of blades, and all but Gary also got a can of shaving cream. He got a large package of soap bars, and some cleaning supplies. That was when he noticed one of the pharmacists had approached.

The druggist had seen the men the minute they walked in. The shaven faces and new haircuts had cleaned them up a bit, but they still had their old pants on, and ill-fitting (Chipper) tops. The druggist immediately decided that they were street people, and liable to steal anything they could from the stores.

“Can I help you gentlemen with anything?” the man asked, sneering slightly on the word ‘gentlemen.’

“Yes, in fact you can,” Mike said. “I need to buy a gift for a girl of about 13 or 14. What would you suggest?”

“Well, we do have a jewelry selection, but it can be quite expensive.” Another sneer.

“I can spend $25, I think,” Mike said.

“If that is for Rachael, then I will double it,” Gary said. “What do you have for around $50?”

Just then a police cruiser pulled up at the store, and the pharmacist breathed a sign of relief. When the officer walked in, he waved him over to the group.

“Hi Gary. And Mike, isn’t it?” Constable Steve said cheerily.

Mike winced at seeing the purple and black welts on the side of Steve’s head. “I’m going to have to buy you a gift too,” he said sorrowfully.

“No need,” Steve said. He turned to the pharmacist: “What can I do for you?”

“You know these men?”

“I do. Two of them at least. I don’t think you need to fear what you were afraid of.”

“Oh. Good. It’s just that we got a shipment of Oxy in this morning, and I was worried.”

Steve looked at Mike, and saw a flicker of desire in his eyes, replaced immediately be a stoic look, and a smile. At that instant the former drug addict knew that he was really cured.

“That isn’t something you should mention in public,” Steve warned the pharmacist. “Especially in front of men who you had thought so poorly of. Don’t worry, I will stay with these guys until they leave.”

The pharmacist paled at the realization of what he had said. He called over a girl from the jewelry counter and then fled back to the prescriptions area.

The men explained to the girl what they wanted and their budget, and she made several suggestions.

“I know young girls sometimes like charm bracelets. We have a nice silver one for $45.95 and a silver-plate one at $25.95 if you wanted to buy a few charms for it.”

She pulled up a large assortment of charms, with nearly 200 on the tray. “Unfortunately we only have charms in pure silver or gold.”

The men looked over the charms for a moment, and then Gary saw what he was looking for. There were small charms shaped like men, women, and children of each sex. “How much are those?” he asked.

“Those are quite small,” she said. “The silver ones are $5 each.”

“I need five,” Gary said. He turned to Mike. “If you buy the silver-plate bracelet, I’ll get the charms. They will represent the men that she had saved. The pastor and the four of us.”

“No,” Const. Steve said. “Get the pure silver bracelet. I’ll pay half. And I need a woman charm as well. It will represent Helen. Rachael is the reason my fiancé came to town. I owe her as much as you guys do.”

“Not nearly as much,” Mike said softly, and Gary nodded. “But we’ll gladly go in with you. When will we give it to her?”

“I was thinking of after school,” Mike said. “I’m heading back to the bakery after we finish here. I can call you when she gets in.”

The girl at the counter had attached the charms and the men took the small box, along with all their other purchases, over to the checkout to pay, to the surprise of the pharmacist still watching them from the back.

Outside, Mike asked Const. Steve if he wanted a call to come to the bakery when they presented the gift. He declined, just asking that they tell her that he shared in the sentiment.

Mike drove the men back to the shed, where he and Gary unloaded their purchases. Gary had to find a spot to hold the other 130 pairs of pants, while the other two put on their pairs, watching their old ones practically disintegrate as they did. Before Mike drove home, Gary made an announcement.

“These pants are pretty distinctive. Almost like a uniform. I want to suggest that we form a new group, dedicated to helping those in need. We’ll call it the Hobo Army, since we were all on the streets. Chipper can give haircuts. Skid can help people who need carpentry work, or new roofs. Don’t worry. I think we will have a lot of help for you soon. That’s why I bought all the pants and more shirts than just the few of us need. Are you in?”

They all agreed, although Mike said he could only be an associate member, or an auxiliary because his first duty would be to the bakery. He would join in on his days off. Gary agreed, and Mike left.

Gary took Skid up to the lobby and after relieving Pastor Helen, explained what his duties would be as greeter.

Gary then went back to the shed with Chipper to start working on products for Saturday’s sale.

---------

After school Rachael rushed home. She was going to meet Robert at Movie Night, and wanted to get a dinner made for the family. As usual, she stopped into the bakery to say ‘Hi’ to everyone.

When she got to the back, she found her Mom sitting on the workbench, massaging Geoff’s shoulders. Mike was doing something over the stove, but moved it off the heat and darted into the office, coming back less than a minute later.

“Wow, what a bunch of lazybones,” Rachael quipped at her relaxed parents.

“I’ll have you know that we made more product today than we have on most Saturdays. And sold it too. Not only that, but I’ve got dinner ready for the family tonight. You get the night off. Look in the proofer,” Maria said. Rachael did so, and found two large flat pieces of dough.

“We’re having pizza made with Love Bread dough,” Maria explained. Mrs. Dasilva sold me a jar of her sauce, and we also got pepperoni, salami, baby tomatoes, olives, and mushrooms for toppings at her store.”

“Along with a lot of mozzarella cheese. We’ll take it home at six, and you will be able to eat at least one slice before you come back for Movie Night,” Geoff said.

“Or you could keep two slices here, and eat it in the bakery, and then go to movie night,” Maria suggested.

“The last sounds best,” Rachael said. “I like to get to the library first to get things set up.”

“Is your farmer friend coming?” Geoff asked.

“Robert? Yes. He does extra chores during the week to be able to get Thursday’s off.”

“Tell him that I’m going to be able to join the rest of the family on Friday night,” Geoff said.

“You know that we won’t finish up till around 10,” Rachael warned. “Don’t you have to start baking at 11?”

“Not anymore. Mike can handle opening. I’ll start at 11 with him tonight, but on Saturday he can prep the early doughs, and I’ll come in at 4 with your Mom. We are finally going to get to a decent work schedule around here. I’ll work next Monday, but after that Mike will work alone. He will get Sunday and Tuesday off. The girls in the front will get Wednesday and Thursdays off, and your Mom will be off on Monday with me.”

“What is Mike doing working?” Rachael asked. “I mean he started at 11. That’s 17 hours ago.”

“I sent him home at noon. He got a haircut, some new clothes and shaving stuff for the room upstairs. But the man is a maniac, and he came back a couple hours later with a bag of lemons from Dasilvas. He even tried to pay for them with his advance money.”

“Whatcha making, Mike?” Rachael asked.

“Lemon pie filling,” Mike replied. “It’s done now, and should be cool enough for a taste, if you blow on the spoon first.”

Rachael, then Geoff, and finally Maria each had a spoonful of the filling and all three of them had the same reaction with eyes going wide at the taste of the warm sauce.

“That’s great, Mike,” Geoff said. “But isn’t it a lot of work? I mean; my supplier sells me a 10 kilogram box of lemon filling for only $50.”

“Take a taste of that,” Mike suggested, and all three of them did. This time the reaction was more of ‘yuck’.

“Throw that box away,” Geoff ordered. “I’m not going to give that stuff to my customers a minute longer. We’ll make fresh pies in the morning and use your stuff.”

“Great, boss,” Mike said. “But we can do a lot more with that filling. Tarts for one. And the Nanaimo bars you sell would be tasty with just a small bead of the lemon piped along the tops. And I know a dynamite recipe for a lemon squares from my old bakery. Recipes have been coming back to me all day long. I’ll write a few out tonight.”

“What about powdered donuts with lemon filling,” Rachael said. “The better donut places have them, but with only that normal filling. We could do other flavors too. Raspberry, strawberry, blueberry, vanilla, butterscotch, banana.”

“I’m seeing another Love Bread thing coming on,” Maria said. “Donuts with homemade fillings. You’ll have to come up with a name for them, Rachael.”

Just then, Gary’s pickup pulled up in front of the shop, and the church caretaker came into the back. He walked over to Mike, who nodded his head, and then they walked over to Rachael.

“Miss Baron,” Gary said. “My Angel. On behalf of Mike and Constable Steve, who couldn’t be here, we would like to present your with this small token of our love and thanks to you, for all you have done.” He handed Rachael a jewelry box, as Maria gasped.

Rachael opened the box, and found the charm bracelet. She looked at the collection of tiny men and the woman. Mike took over. “These characters all represent people you have saved, or done good for. The first man is Pastor McNaughton, who you saved with your CPR skills. At the other end in Pastor Helen, who Constable Steve claims wouldn’t have come to town if not for you. This one is me, and this one is Gary. We wouldn’t have gotten a second chance, if not for you. And these last two are for men you haven’t met yet, but have been saved as sure as anything. They prayed at the painting this morning, and are now working for Gary at the church.”

Gary then explained the concept of the Hobo Army. The main idea was that as the painting cures street-people in town, they will need something to do. The Hobo Army will go through the neighborhood and help those in need. Cutting lawns, weeding gardens, doing carpentry repairs. The Army will provide those services on a volunteer basis.

Rachael had tears in her eyes at the sweet gift the men gave her. She rewarded each of them with a kiss on the cheek after putting the bracelet on. It was so nice to be recognized for what was happening, but it really wasn’t her. It was the Lord’s work.

Gary left soon after, but the others all chatted until six, with Rachael and Maria making the pizzas, which went into the still-hot oven and came out just as the store was closed. Carol came in from the front, and told them that the last few customers had smelled the pizza, and wanted to make orders.”

“No, no, no,” Maria said, taking the pizza from the oven with the thick Love Bread crust risen nearly an inch thick on the edges. “We are not opening this place for longer hours.” Carol and Jennifer came to the back and got a small slice each, while Mike and Rachael got two full slices each. Maria then put another slice on Mike’s plate. “You need to put some weight on those bones. Eat. Enjoy. And then get some sleep. I’ll be putting Geoff to bed shortly.”

“Remember to undo Grandpa’s buttons before you go to bed,” Rachael reminded her Mom as she and Geoff left out of the back door with the rest of the pizza. Rachael and Mike then sat down and ate their slices.

It was 6:30 when Rachael walked the few steps to the library, and Byron was already there, waiting for Angela. Heather was librarian this evening, and Rachael went in to see her. “No need to clean up quite so well tonight,” Heather said. “The Grade Sevens from your school came in yesterday and asked for permission to have movie nights for these last two weeks. Agnes said we have a few hours available this month, so we will open tomorrow for them.”

Just then Carly, Mikki, and Larissa came in. “Carly,” Rachael said. “The Grade Sevens are having a movie night tomorrow. Do you have plans?”

“Nothing special, Leon is taking me out for a drive on Saturday, but Friday I was just going to watch TV.”

“You should come down and help the Grade Sevens. After all, it was you talking to them that got them to set up the night. If you help, it will cinch your position as Top Girl.”

“Yeah, it could. I should talk to them at lunch tomorrow again. Do you think Tony will be able to supply them pop and popcorn at the normal prices?”

“There he is. Go ask. But I think he was saying there was going to be popcorn left over that would go stale over the summer,” Carly headed after the young boy carrying two cases of soda. Mikki, naturally, followed to join her boyfriend.

“Mme. Heather,” Larissa said. “I wonder what the process is to make a new program at the library. My mother, she is new to town, and doesn’t speak English well. I think she is lonely. My father has his job, and Marc and I have made friends, but she has nothing but her house, and the television, which only carries two French channels. I was thinking that she could volunteer and run a “French for Tots and Toddlers” program. Reading them books from the library and maybe teaching them their numbers in French. It would put them a bit ahead when they get to school.”

“You said the magic word … ‘volunteer,’ Heather giggled. “Tell her to come down sometime next week during the afternoon. Agnes speaks a bit of French. More than me, at any rate, and they can work something out. We have some French children’s books in the library, but can get more on transfer from the other branches.”

With Carly upstairs, Larissa and Rachael went out to the street. They wanted the other students to see Carly as organizer of the popular event. They got out just as Angela got out of a car. The man driving remained there, and Angela went up to Byron, saying: “Dad wants to talk to you.” The young boy gulped, and then went and got into the front of the car, which drove up a half block so that other cars could drop off students.

“This is so embarrassing,” Angela said. “Making Byron go through all that, when this is barely a date.” The girls chatted, complimenting Angela again on the cute and colorful outfit she had chosen.

“Mom is in love with Byron, even before meeting him. She thinks I stopped being Goth because of him, “ Angela said. “She actually told Dad that he was not to do that, and look what happens. She will go ballistic at him when we get home.”

“Don’t be upset,” Rachael said. “He is doing it because he loves you, and he wants to make sure that the boys that date you are good guys. Byron is, so there should be no problem.”

A few minutes later Byron got out of the car, which drove off. He walked back to the girls and seemed to be relieved that it was not just the two of them.”

“Come on,” Rachael said. “Let’s go upstairs. It is nearly 7. And Byron: take Angela’s hand. It is a date, you know.”

This resulted in both of them going red, but obeying, and the four got up just a few minutes before show time. Byron showed Angela to one of the pairs of seats, and then went to get sodas and popcorn for them. He sat down just as the movie started, but Rachael didn’t see that, because her attentions were on Robert.

There was less kissy-kissy at this show, although Larissa and Mark certainly kept their end up. The first half hour of the show had several Charlie Chaplin silent shorts from YouTube, most with musical accompaniment. These had the students laughing in their chairs at the antics of the Little Tramp. The film of The General also had sound, but just music, as it was also a silent film as well. It was only 75 minutes long, just long enough for the attention spans of 21st century kids.

The result was that the movie night was over before 9 instead of 10 like when longer shows were presented. Before Carly led the clean up, she announced that next week would be the last of the series (groans) until September when they would all be high school students (cheers). She said that Heather in the library had contacted a library in Toronto to get a special show in for the finale in the series, Rocky Horror Picture Show (huge cheers).

Then it was cleanup and students out on the streets, which were still light in the evening dusk. Angela and Byron were both waiting for rides. Rachael stood next to Bryon and whispered. “Did you kiss her yet?” And heard “No. Should I? What if she doesn’t want to kiss?” whispered back.

“You can always ask,” Rachael said. “But you will want to do it before her Dad shows up, won’t you?” She was amused by the shocked and scared look on the boy’s face. He quickly moved over to Angela, and while she couldn’t hear it, she imagined that he was asking her if she wanted to kiss. She nodded her head, and the two had a fairly short, but tender kiss on the lips. And to make the timing perfect, Angela’s mother appeared just then, and beeped her horn. Angela hugged Byron, and said bye before running off to tattle on her father.

Byron’s ride, a brother, was also waiting in line to pickup his brother, and was astonished to see his nerdy little brother kiss such a hot redhead.

Most of the kids were gone, but Robert was still there. “I messed up,” he admitted. “I told the guys that it was over at 10, not 9, so I’ll just have to wait.”

“You certainly will not,” Rachael said. “Text them and tell them to pick us up at the new house. We can wait there.”

He did, and they did, finding the house quiet when they got there. After she checked on Bobby and Grandpa, both well asleep, she opened the fridge to find two slices of pizza left. She microwaved them, and shared them with Robert, who was astounded at the flavor in the reheated slices.

Right at 10 sharp Peter pulled into the drive, and Robert got one last pizza-flavored kiss before running out to the car.

“Who is the hot blonde?” Peter said. “I thought you were dating Rachael.”

“That was Rachael,” Robert said. “She got all the black hair cut off earlier in the week.”

“Damn. Now my little brother has a hotter girlfriend that I do,” Peter said.

“Oh, should I tell that to Maddy?” Robert said with a smile.

“Don’t you dare, or you’ll be walking everywhere,” Peter said. “Damn. A blonde.”

Inside, Rachael was ready for bed, and knelt down.

Dear Lord

Thank you for a wonderful day. I got a beautiful charm bracelet from the guys. They think it is me that has done all these wonderful things, and we both know it has all been you. I hope that Larissa’s mom can get something going at the library to make her feel needed. I should have gotten out to visit her more often, since so few other people in town speak French. I think I will invite them over for Sunday dinner. She will love talking with Grandpa. I know Larissa did. And finally, thanks for making the Hobo Army. I see them doing wonderful things for you. For us.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

Three episodes in a week! I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I like writing them (and reading your comments): Dawn.

FRIDAY, June 3, 2016

School on Friday was a dull blur. At lunch Carly and Rachael sat at the table of the Grade Seven students who were organizing their movie night. The girls were thrilled that Carly would give up her Friday night to help, and they also took advice on rules.

Carly told them that Tony would bring pop and popcorn to the library if they wanted (they did) for the normal $2 fee. Rachael suggested that there be a rule that boys would kiss the girls on the cheek only at the end of the movie, with no lip kissing at other times. The girls look relieved at that. Grade Seven was a bit young for full kissing, and a rule specifying what would happen eliminated a lot of stress on both boys and girls. Handholding was allowed. They knew that some couples would probably ignore the rules, but it allowed those new to dating to have a guideline.

The girls had not arranged a film yet, and Carly suggested that they use the same film that the Grade Eights had the night before. She would send the links to the Charlie Chaplin YouTubes. The girls liked this. They had heard the Grade Eights laughing about their movie today. Rachel said they would have to get a different movie next week. Rocky Horror was not really appropriate to 12-year-olds. They decided on Sound of Music, and would check that the video was available when they got to the library.

Carly stressed that she was not cleanup crew: the girls would have to assign tasks, and Rachael made a list of duties for the girls to assign.

Rachael did say that Carly would introduce the show, and outline the kissing rules, which relieved the girls, none of whom liked speaking in public. Carly winked at Rachael, realizing that this would earn her more votes for Top Girl.

After school, Rachael rode the bus home with Robert. The bus driver started to object until Rachael offered her a bribe: a paper sack containing three of her home baked cookies. She was waved to the middle of the bus, and sat next to Robert.

“You can get almost anything in the world, if you offer a few home-baked cookies,” Rachael said with a smile. Robert pouted: “Where are mine?” Rachael dug into her backpack and lifted out another bag of cookies, this one containing two. Robert greedily took one, and offered Rachael the other, but she turned it down, and Robert was chomping on it before the bus left the school.

Rachael noticed that the driver had eaten half of one cookie before the bus was loaded, then set it down as she pulled out from the school. She would pick up the cookie and take a bite at each stop, but didn’t eat while driving, which impressed the girl.

It took over a half hour before they reached the Jackson farm, at the end of the bus route. Apparently Archie’s farm next door was in the rural school district, but the Jackson’s were in the town district.

“These are really good, Miss,” the driver said, taking a bite out of her last cookie as they left the bus. “You can ride this bus anytime.”

“If I bring cookies,” Rachael suggested.

“No, anytime. But I wouldn’t object to cookies if you have them.”

Rachael and Robert walked up the long laneway to the house, after Robert had picked up the mail. It was about a quarter mile lane, but Rachael enjoyed being out in the country air in the spring. Robert noted that it was not so enjoyable in the winter with a blizzard blowing in your face, making the walk take three times as long and much more annoying.

Finally they got into Donna’s kitchen, and Robert’s mother gave a little shriek when she saw Rachael. “Oh, so cute,” she squealed. “Robert said you changed your hair, but I didn’t think it would look so nice. It looks so glamorous.”

“Thanks. I made cookies. For before dinner,” Rachael said. “I got a text from Mom that she wanted to bring rolls. Is that okay?”

“I got a text from her, and that saves us from having to make biscuits. There will be 18 of us tonight, so we will be in the big dining room.”

“Wow, that’s a crowd,” Rachael said.

“We have had more. Remember, we usually have seven just with the Jacksons. There are the four Barrons, and five from the Watsons, Ruby’s family. Then there is Archie and Maddy, Peter’s girlfriend.”

“Can I help?” Rachael asked.

“Thanks for asking, honey,” Donna said. “But Ruby will be here shortly and Teri, Mrs. Watson, always chips in too. I know Robert brought you out early to see the animals, and to ride. Are you still planning on entering the Farmers’ Races on the 25th?”

“Three weeks away?” Rachael said. “I’d like to run Blackie, but I haven’t been on him for over a week. I’ll have to see how I do.”

“Robbie has set up a course out back. He’s been practicing every night for the past few weeks. It is a 5-mile cross country track at the races, and he says he is hoping to break 10 minutes with Blackie.”

“I will break 10,” Robert bragged as he came into the kitchen. “I usually get done in 10:20 or so, but Wednesday I made it in 10:02,”

“Well let’s go race,” Rachael said, dashing out the door. “I call Blackie. You can ride Chocky.”

In the stables Blackie snorted the moment she walked in. He recognized the smell of his favorite human, even after nearly two weeks. She grabbed a pair of apples from the barrel near the door, putting one in her pocket and carrying the other to the horse that was now dancing in excitement in his stall. Rachael opened the stall, and the huge horse nuzzled into her chest, and Rachael felt her energy flowing into him. She gave him an apple and he chomped on it as Rachael ran her hands over his legs, and all over his body.

She examined him closely, looking into his body, and found only one small flaw. It was a tiny tear in a tendon of the right rear leg, probably caused by too much running. She fed energy into the leg, and felt the tendon heal until it was good as new. The weakness must have been there before, but made worse by all the running Robert had done on him.

She looked up and saw that Chocky was all saddled and ready to go. “Are you planning to run bareback again?’ Robert asked.

“No. I was just was waiting for some big strong man to take down that saddle that weighs almost as much as I do.”

Robert walked over and pulled down the big saddle, and thrust it up onto the black’s back, a major accomplishment for him, and he puffed out his chest as he buckled it on, proud that Rachael hadn’t seemed to notice how he struggled with the weight.

Rachael was putting the reins on the horse at the same time, and Robert looked on in awe. The horse was actually helping her put the painful bit in, when he usually fought being reined.

Soon they were both out on the track Robert had laid out. “I don’t know if this is how the course will run, but it should be something like it. After the races all the young boys like to run the course for the next day or two, until they take it up, so I’ve been running them unofficially for years. This will be the first time I have raced the under 16 group. I won pony class when I was 10. Of course, after winning, my pony was no longer eligible in later years.”

They got to the start of the track. “Do you want to walk the track first?” Robert suggested.

“You’ve run Blackie on this track for over a week, right? He will know the way. Time me.” With that Rachael and Blackie darted off down the track, with the Rachael using her powers to sense what the horse was expecting. They made good time around the track, without pushing, and after several minutes she saw Robert at the start point.

Robert was fairly impressed with a time that was going to be under 11, remembering that his first time over the course had been in the low 13s. But Rachael didn’t slow down as she approached, but instead seemed to speed up. She had a maniacal grin on her face as she streamed past, and Robert barely remembered to click the timer. He looked down and saw it was 10:55. He then looked up, and saw that they were nearly out of sight.

Rachael was feeding a need for speed into Blackie, and he was replying by giving his all. The girl was lighter than the boy, and that helped buy a few seconds. But mostly he just trusted her more, and worked harder. Soon they were approaching the boy again.

Robert thought that they were going for a third lap as they ran past him at a blazing speed, and he clicked the lap timer, and saw that they had made the long circuit in 9:12, a minute faster than his normal times. He looked up, and saw that Rachael was pulling Blackie up, letting him cool down a bit as they trotted back to him.

“How did we do?” Rachael asked sliding down from the horse. “It felt really fast. Especially the second lap.”

“10:55 and 9:12. Amazing. I can’t break 10,” Robert said.

“You will,” Rachael said. “I weigh less than you do, for one thing.”

“You were glued to him going around corners. I think the way you leaned into the corners is something I need to try. What are you doing?” Rachael was running her hands up and down the horses legs and flanks.

“Running builds up toxins in the muscles, and a gentle massage releases them,” Rachael said, not mentioning that she was also looking closely at the formerly torn ligament, which now seemed fine after nearly 20 minutes of hard work. She was sure it would be fine for Robert to ride in his practices.

“Don’t you be trying to beat my time,” Rachael warned as she climbed back onto the horse. “I’m lighter than you.”

“And Blackie loves you, and just tolerates me. He still won’t let the twins come close to him. JJ and Dad can handle him well. Dad’s even been riding him over the course. He can’t break 11 minutes, but that still should be enough to win the seniors. It won’t win the open though.”

“The twins still haven’t made friends with him?” Rachael said as they trotted back to the farmhouse. “I was hoping one of them would be able to race the under-20 class.”

“You want him to run in all the races?” Robert asked. “That is five races and nearly an hour of hard running over two days. That’s a lot to ask of a horse.”

“Blackie is a lot of horse,” Rachael said. “You could run the under-20, couldn’t you? Or does running the under-16 disqualify you?”

“No, I can run both. Under-20 starts about an hour after the under-16 ends. The Powder Puff runs first, at 1 a.m. theoretically. Usually they take off at 1:15 and it will take 20 minutes for the last horse to come in. Although apparently you will be at the finish line more than 10 minutes before that.”

“And what happens Sunday?”

“First up is the pony race. Lisa wants to run Duchess in that. It will be her first time. It is on a smaller half-mile course. Then come the seniors, and finally the open.”

“Blackie can do it. Three races the first day, and then two on Sunday.”

“Who will run the open? Me?” Robert asked.

“You could if you want to,” Rachael said. “If not, I will run it.”

Robert whistled. “You run it. It would piss all those farmers off if a 13-year-old boy beat them, but imagine if a 13-year-old girl does. Plus you are faster than me.”

They were back at the stables, and they unsaddled and brushed out their mounts. Chocky didn’t get much of a ride, but she was pretty lazy and didn’t mind. Blackie enjoyed his run with his girl, and nuzzled her before she left. An apple appeared out of her pocket, and he graciously accepted it, sad when she left the stable with the boy.

Back in the farmhouse first Rachael, and then Robert showered and changed. Rachael had brought a second set of clothes to school in her backpack for this express purpose.

Downstairs Rachael joined the women, including Maria, in getting the meal ready. When Robert came down he was nearly tackled by Bobby, begging to go out to the barns.

“How long till dinner, Mom?” Robert asked.

“At least an hour,” Donna said, and Robert allowed Bobby to drag him out into the yard.

The women worked together, and soon had a feast prepared. There was a roast beef from Ruby and her brother’s meat shop, and two deep-fried chickens from Keri’s farm next door. With five cooks there was a number of sides. Five minutes before the meal Maria dumped two plastic bags of dinner rolls of a sort Rachael had never seen into a paper bag, and popped it into the oven, which was cooling after the roast had been taken out.

Rachael set the table, noticing the other young girl in the living room with Peter. “Want to help, Maddy?” Rachael asked.

The teenager got up reluctantly, and came to help, with Rachael introducing herself and then the other women. After a few minutes Maddy seemed to loosen up, and by the time Donna rang the dinner bell, she seemed to be enjoying herself with the women.

The men came in from the barns, and lined up for the washroom. Rachael inspected Bobby’s hands, and he had to go back for a second wash, with his sister scrubbing them clean. They got back to find everyone else seated, except Donna, and Teri, Ruby’s mom. Rachael sat next to Robert while Bobby sat next to Lisa. On Rachael’s other side sat Darrel, Ruby’s younger brother. He was Robert’s age but he looked two or three years younger and attended the country school. He was nothing at all like Chuck, Ruby’s older brother and partner in the butchering business. Chuck was bigger than JJ. Three inches taller, and at least 50 pounds heavier. Rachael had no doubt that Chuck could heft a half beef carcass.

The Moms carried out the roast and the baskets of chicken: one spicy and one regular. The twins immediately reached out for food, and were stopped when Donna snapped. “Grace first. Rachael, I know you enjoy doing this.”

“Lord, thank you for the bounty with which you let us fill this table. But mostly we thank you for the comradeship of dining together as a group, with old friends and new, but to always be friends. Amen.”

Now the battle began, with the forks and knives soon breaking through the defenses of the platters.

“Oh my, I forgot,” Donna said, jumping up and darting into the kitchen. She came out a minute later with a wicker basket containing the strange rolls.

The basket was passed along, and everyone took one. Rachael looked at hers. It seemed lighter than any of the buns from the bakery. She took a dab of butter, which instantly melted on the warm bun. She took a small bite, and her eyes opened wide. She wasn’t the only one.

“These are incredible,” Frank said from the head of the table. Those who hadn’t already tried theirs all took a bite, with the same reaction.

“They are new at the bakery,” Maria said. “We have a new baker on probation. But I think his probation has just ended.” She looked at Geoff, who nodded. “This is his recipe and it is wonderful. We tried them right out of the oven, but they are still just as good. He says they should be good for several days, so people can buy them on Saturday’s for dinners on Sunday or a holiday Monday. We just need to come up with a name for them.”

“Clouds,” Rachael said. “They are light and fluffy, and so wonderful. They even look like little clouds.”

“What a perfect name,” Geoff said. “Can you write something up? I think we need another quarter page in the newspaper next week.”

“At least we now have the staff to handle a rush,” Maria said. “Love Bread nearly killed us.”

“Is that you?” Teri Waters said. “I love that bread. And everything else in there. I’m going to have to add Clouds to my purchases.”

“Phone in your order, and you can pick it up at the end of the day,” Maria said. “And if you do, I’ll put it through as a family discount.”

“Why thank you,” Maria.

“I know that there is supposed to be other announcements today,” Ruby said, glancing at JJ. “But Chuck and I would like to make an announcement first.”

Chuck took over. “As of 2 p.m. today, Ruby and I are tenants in the vacant store at the strip mall the bakery is in. We are opening a location in town. We will still do the butchering and cold storage at the farm, but Ruby will run the store in town. We got a great deal from a Mr. Bill Strong, with graduated rents for the first year. Hopefully when the new year rolls along we will be established enough for the full rent, which is still lower than downtown.”

Rachael pushed her chair aside, and ran to Ruby. “We are going to be neighbors.” She hugged the older girl fiercely, then looked a bit embarrassed as she went to sit back down.

Donna looked at JJ. “Did you want to make your announcement now, JJ? Or wait until after dessert?”

“I would be crazy to get in between my brothers and Mom’s pies,” the young man said. “After.”

The pies then came out from the kitchen. There were apple, lemon meringue, pumpkin and a chocolate crème pie. Each person selected a flavor, and Ruby cut a slice to be passed along.

When it came Bobby’s turn he couldn’t make up his mind. Suddenly Ruby started cutting. When she was done, Bobby had a plate with four small slices together molded into one normal piece. His eyes widened. “Thank you Ruby. I love you. You are the best … lady ever,” he said.

“Why thank you sir. What about you,” she asked Lisa.

“Can I have one like Bobby,” she said, “but no pumpkin.”

Geoff laughed looking at the combination pies that the kids were eagerly digging into. “Mike and I are going to have to come up with a way to make pies like that.”

With the dessert plates empty around the room, JJ stood and silence fell over the room. He walked over to Ruby and stood in front of her. She turned her chair to face him.

“Ruth Ann Watson,” he said, kneeling. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? My Ruby to light my path for the rest of time.” He opened a box from Perlon Jewelry and presented her with a silver ring.

“Not a diamond? Good,” Ruby muttered as she picked up the ring and immediately put it on. It seemed to fit perfectly. She looked up at JJ, smiled and said: “Yes, yes, a million times yes. You make me the happiest woman in the world.”

“What an interesting ring, JJ,” Teri Watson said. “What is it? I know Ruby wouldn’t wear a diamond. But I have never seen that design before.”

“Can you explain it Rachael,” JJ said. “Rachael pretty much designed it, and then Mr. Perlon built it to order.”

“The rectangle in the middle is actually two pieces of bone,” Rachael said. “One from a dairy cow, representing the Jacksons, and the other is from a beef cow, representing the Watsons. Chuck supplied the bones. The loop that surrounds the two stones is the infinity symbol, for a love that will last forever. And the stones are a sapphire representing JJ and an emerald representing Ruby, based on the colors of their eyes.” All the women around the table let out a sigh.

“How unique. I will be the only woman in the world with this ring. I love it,” Ruby said.

Rachel noticed after the dinner that Darrel helped the women clear the table while the men went to watch the end of the Blue Jays game on TV. He said he was not into sports. She had also watched him eating during dinner, and he had only picked at his meal, eating far less than any of the other men around the table, including Bobby. Rachael started to get a hunch.

After the dishes were done and packed away, she went into the rec room and gathered up Robert, taking him out onto the porch, where the setting sun was beautiful. “Darrel is a girl, isn’t she?” Rachael said as she lay in Robert’s arms.

“What? Are you crazy? She … I mean he isn’t. He’s a boy. Can’t you tell?”

“Robert, a dear friend of mine is transsexual. She is only seven, but I learned how to tell. And I had a cousin who was trans. You would never lie to me, would you? You know, don’t you?” Rachael said softly.

Robert couldn’t speak. He wouldn’t betray his friend, nor would he lie to his girlfriend. So he said nothing. And that said everything. He was about to get up and go when Ruby came out.

“She knows Ruby. I didn’t want to tell her, but she figured it out. I’m sorry,” Robert was nearly sobbing.

“It is all right, Robbie,” Ruby said, stroking the boy. “How did you know?” she asked Rachael.

“Well, first of all she looks almost exactly like you, and not at all like your brother. She is small and pretty, even dressed up as a boy. What is her name?” Rachael asked.

“Darla,” Ruby said. She turned to Robert and asked him to go get her.

“Only the two of us know. Three now, I guess,” Ruby said. “Darla told me first, about three years ago. Then she was getting beat up by bullies at school, so we told Robert and he got into a few fights, but the bullying ended. I think Mom knows about it, and won’t mind. But Dad will go ballistic, and that’s why it’s been a secret.”

Darla came out, with a scared look on her face. Rachael ran over and took her hands. “Darla, will you be my friend? We will all be in high school together next year. I bet you look pretty in a dress.”

The girl stood for a second, and then fell into Rachael’s arms, sobbing. “You don’t know how hard it is,” she cried.

“No I don’t. But I had a cousin who was like you. And I have a young friend. Bobby calls her his girlfriend, and protects her the way Robert has protected you. But you know, you are almost 14, right?” Darla nodded. “And pretty soon your body is going to start to change in ways you don’t want.” Darla sobbed louder.

“What happened to your cousin,” Darla asked.

“She couldn’t deal with it,” Rachael said. “She committed suicide.”

She felt the girl tense up in her arms, saying nothing.

“You have been thinking of that, too, haven’t you?” Rachael guessed.

“It is so hard,” Darla said. “Yes I have.”

Ruby gasped, and then rushed to join in the hug. “No, no, no, you must never do that. You are my little sister. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

“But what can I do?”

“We will get you medicine so you don’t change,” Ruby said, full out crying now. “I’ve read about it on the Internet. I don’t know how, but we will do it.”

“What about Dad?”

“He … He … I don’t know, but we will make it work. It has to work,” Ruby sobbed. “This was the happiest day of me life, and now this.”

“It is still a happy day,” Rachael said. “It is the day we figure out how to save Darla. I have a plan.”

That night, Rachael kneeled down to a much-needed prayer.

Dear Lord

What a day. The highs of seeing Ruby and JJ get engaged. Then the lows of learning about Darla. Please help me in my plan. It depends on you. But then I guess everything depends on you, doesn’t it. Help save her, Lord.

Amen

A Second Chance

By Dawn Natelle

SATURDAY, June 4, 2016

Rachael was up very early. Her parents were already at work, and Bobby was going to have to get up when he woke later and help Grandpa whenever he could. He would make himself breakfast: cereal for him, and toast for Grandpa. This was the most responsibility the little boy had to this point, and he was told to call Maria at the bakeshop if there were problems.

Rachael had to go to the early morning photo shoot at the cenotaph, and ate a quick breakfast first, leaving the cereal and bread on the table where Bobby would find them.

At the cenotaph Mikki set up her camera, and the first actors appeared at about 7 a.m. They were scheduled at five-minute intervals, but some came late, and some were early, so the girls pretty much shot the pictures as the actors were available. Carly had a clipboard where she kept track of who had been shot, and who was due. They were done at the cenotaph by 9:30 and headed to the high school to shoot the theatre guys (and girls), along with their teacher. Mr. Churchill and Mrs. Cathcart had been shot earlier in the week, at the school. Then it was over to the Legion where the last shot was taken, a group shot of all the members who had helped in any way, outside their building.

“Guys, I’m going to donate my share of any of the money that we make from the film,” Rachael said as they were setting up the Legion shoot. Larissa immediately agreed. Mikki thought for a few seconds, and then she said she would do the same, since it was the credit for producing and directing the film that she would need to get into film school. Carly seemed a bit reluctant, but agreed.

After the shoot the Legion president came forward: a woman, to the surprise of the girls. Her father had served on D-Day, and she had supported the Legion all her life, initially in the auxiliary, and later in the main branch, when women were finally allowed to be members.

“Girls, I can’t tell you how much we are waiting to see your film,” she said. “Is there any chance that we can have a showing here at the Legion? So many members are interested.”

“We can do the world premiere here,” Mikki said. “We will be showing it in class at school on June 17, but anytime after that we can do a showing or two for you here.”

“What would you like us to charge for tickets?” the lady said.

“Why, that would be up to you,” Rachael said. “We have all agreed that any earnings from the film would go to the Legion. I think Mr. Churchill spent some money on the special effects and the German costumes, and it would be nice to pay him back, but after that it will all go to the Legion.”

“You girls are wonderful,” the president said, darting from one to the other to give them hugs. “With our members tending to be older, it is harder to find the funds to keep this place running. There are good points to it, I guess. I’m 67 and a lot of the older fellows call me ‘that young girl’ which is great for the ego. But knowing that real young girls like you four care means so very much.”

The girls were treated to a lunch in the Legion. It was just sandwiches and they weren’t made with Love Bread. Rachael found the taste of Wonder Bread so spongy and flat compared to the seven-grain bread she had gotten used to, and only ate one half sandwich. The other girls also ate light, giving each other looks.

Rachael decided to ask Geoff if he could supply the Legion with a flat of Love Bread next week. They might not become a customer, but the $80 retail cost of 20 loaves would help the Legion out financially.

Rachael got Mr. Stover to drop her off at the church, where the bake sale was almost over. She was surprised to see her mother there.

“It is only 1 p.m.,” Rachael said in amazement. “Why aren’t you at the bakery?”

“We made a few too many Cloud rolls,” Maria said. “Mike said they wouldn’t be salable on Monday, so I brought 24 dozen out here to sell. It’s my first time driving the van. I split open one dozen, and cut the rolls into quarters. Pretty much everyone who sampled one bought a dozen, so the church earned almost $75 from just our stuff.”

“Good,” Rachael replied. “I was feeling bad about not baking much, other than some cookies on Wednesday with Pastor Helen. But with film night on Thursday and the trip to the farm on Friday, there just wasn’t time.”

“How are they doing at the store?” Rachael asked.

“It is great. Mike is wonderful. I think he knows more than Geoff about baking. He said our bread molder is a bit loose, and we should get a mechanic in to tighten it up. Geoff will call someone next week.”

“Have him talk to Gary first,” Rachael said. “He can fix anything.” Just then Pastor Helen came over to hug Rachael.

“Your idea was splendid, Rachael,” she said. “We will make something over $500 from the sale. That will be enough to fund at least two dinners. I don’t know about the other two weeks though. The ladies feel we can only do one of these a month.”

“Don’t you worry about the other two weeks, Pastor Helen.” It was Gary, who had joined the group. “We have finished the equipment sale, and took in $9500. Half of that goes to the deacon, but I get to decide what to do with the other half. So no scrimping on the dinner please. I will make up the costs.”

“That money belongs to you, Gary,” Pastor Helen said. “You earned it.”

“It belongs to the Lord,” the caretaker said. “I only get to decide how to use it in His name.”

“How did you get so much?” Rachael asked.

“Well, as Chipper and I finished something, we took a picture and posted it on Kijiji. That was Skid’s idea. Just a picture and a little description, telling that it would be for sale on Saturday morning.”

“Well, one of the things we found in the shed was an old-time bathtub, with brass claw feet. Chipper worked four hours to clean it up, and it looked like new by the end. This morning, I found three people had asked me to save it for them. One was from Toronto, one from Hamilton, and one all the way from Oshawa. In the end we had a little auction, and the Toronto guy won. He paid $1300 for it. His new house will cost a million dollars, I guess, so that isn’t much to him for an original piece.”

“Most of the other things were sold based on a price tag. I think there were three or four other items where several wanted it, and we had little auctions for them too, and usually got double our asking price. But most importantly, there is now a lot of space in the shed, and I want to put up some bunk beds for the Hobo Army. We are up to seven members now, and I want space for Wednesday. I bet we get a lot more members then after the dinner.”

“That is fabulous, Gary,” Rachael said. “It must have been a lot of work getting things ready.”

“Yeah, Chipper is exhausted. He claims he has lost 20 pounds. He’s sleeping in the shed right now. We worked through most of the night to get as much done as possible. Skid has been working long hours too. I’m going to have to relieve him from lobby duty. He and another new member of the Hobo Army have been keeping it open around the clock.”

“24/7?” Rachael said, turning around to see that the church sign read ‘We never close. God never sleeps.’ “I thought you closed from midnight to eight.”

“Not since we got the last two members of the Army. We had people waiting each morning at 8, and people still wanting to pray late. Our closing time sort of came a little later each night, due to people coming in and wanting to pray. When it was 2:30 last night we just stayed open. I changed the sign early this morning so that people coming to the sales would see it.”

“I hope the deacon won’t mind,” Pastor Ruth said cautiously.

“He won’t,” Gary said with a chuckle. “Not when I show him the pile of bills that I cleared out of the contributions bin this morning. People who come in at night tend to have serious problems: some are at the end of their ropes. They tend to donate heavily when the Lord eases their problems. Deacon Jefferson will be quite happy with the new hours. And it gives the Army something to do to earn their keep. I’ve been using the kitchen in the morning to feed them and they get a meal at night, but we usually do that in our shed.”

“With everything you have sold, do you want more donations coming in?” Pastor Ruth asked.

“Yes, the more the better, especially if there is going to be a sale every month. The shed still has enough junk in it to make for two or three sales, but I want to keep my guys busy. And the men who came to the sale were happy to have something to do while their wives were inside buying baked goodies. More than a few women came out. They finished their shopping before the men. And a couple of women bought things.”

“Well I will make an announcement at the early service, and see that Pastor McNaughton does the same. Can I direct them to you?”

“You may, and I appreciate the advertising.”

“Do you want to check out the sale, Rachael?” Maria said. “There isn’t much left. If you hurry, I can give you a lift back to the bakery.”

Rachael did go to the tables, which had only a few things left. There was a lopsided Angel Food cake, and Bobby and Grandpa really liked those. She picked it up and a woman of about 30 hustled up to her. “You want that?” she said eagerly. “I thought I was going to have to take it home with me. “I’m not really good at baking, and I was surprised that my cookies sold well. But that sad-looking thing just sat there, taunting my inept baking skills.”

“Well baking takes practice. Is it a mix cake, or homemade?”

“Homemade from scratch,” the woman said.

“Well then it is a perfectly fine first attempt. The first Angel Food I made was just as bad. It will probably be tasty though. Mine was,” Rachael said. “You know, we should have a beginner’s baking class here in the kitchens once a month. I gave Pastor Helen a lesson on Wednesday for making cookies. They are kind of my specialty. But there are so many older ladies in the new auxiliary that I bet could teach the rest of us a lot.”

“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” the woman said. “I would come to that.”

“Well, talk to Pastor Helen about it. She is getting married soon, and wants to learn more herself.”

With that, Rachael gave the woman $5 for the cake (marked down from $10 several hours earlier, the woman said) and got into the van.

At the bakery, it was nearly 2 and the shelves were still largely full. Mike was gone to take a nap. He had started the doughs at 11 last night, and when Geoff and Maria got in at 4 he had things well underway. From then until noon the two men worked, and Maria went between her normal three stations, helping in the front, taking phone orders and packing them, and helping in the back, although there seemed to be less and less to do back there.

“I suspect Mike will be back here in an hour or two,” Geoff said. “He will come up with something new and delicious for our customers, without a doubt.”

“I wonder how long we will be able to keep him,” Maria said. “He seems like he could run his own shop before too long.”

“I told him this morning that his probation was over before it even started, and set his hourly rate at $25. It almost floored him, especially when I told him that I was setting his hours for this week at 40 hours, since he had been down here so much. Next week I’m going to try to set him to a limit of eight hours a day.”

“I have an idea,” Rachael said, and they both turned to her. Rachael ideas were usually worth listening to.

“You know he is going to work more than 40 hours, and you can’t really pay overtime at that rate. Why don’t you do what Archie is doing with JJ? Offer him 5% ownership in the business at the end of each year. After six years, the rate will drop to 3.3%, and then he will be an equal partner in the business with you and Mom. As a partner of course he won’t expect overtime. He won’t think of leaving, especially if you keep letting him being creative with new products.”

“That is a great idea,” Geoff said, and Maria nodded. “I was going to put him on from 11 p.m. to 8 a.m. but we are super busy at 8 and I couldn’t see him leaving. I think if he goes up for his nap at 10 and then does whatever he wants after 2 I will be happy.”

“I’ll keep coming in at 4, but I think Maria should start coming in at 8 again. The early hours were to help out, and we really don’t need it. From 8 to 6 is a good shift for her.”

“And you will leave no later than 4, mister,” Maria ordered. “No need for you to stay later, since we don’t bake anything that late.”

“Unless we are short on pies or cookies,” Geoff said.

“Agreed,” Maria said. “Although with two wonder bakers in here, that won’t happen often.”

“Well, maybe on Thursday, if Rachael comes up with a good ad for us for Clouds,” he said.

“Oh yes,” I forgot about that. “Can I use the bakery computer?”

“To write an ad that will make us lots of money? I think we will allow it,” Maria said with a smile as Rachel headed to the lunchroom/office. She returned an hour later. Mike was at the scales, weighing out ingredients for something when she handed the sheet to her parents, who were doing their massages at the bench.

“Clouds”

“You see them in the sky most sunny days. Little puffy, white things skittering across the horizon. Clouds.

“Bread Baron’s newest baker, Mike, has discovered how to capture those little clouds and make them into dinner rolls. They are 25% lighter than our regular rolls and 100% tastier. You will make your dinner guests jealous if you serve them, and your family will love you if you make them a regular part of your meals.”

“Clouds are largely hand-made. The dough is too delicate to run through our machines. But we sell them at almost the same price as our regular rolls. $4 for a dozen.”

“That’s wonderful honey, but we have been selling them for $3.50 a dozen,” Maria said.

“Consider that an introductory special,” Rachael said. “Clouds taste way better than most of the other types of rolls, so they should cost more. And people appreciate things that cost a bit more, if the quality is there. That is how Cadillac sells their cars.”

Geoff chuckled. “Maybe we should be making Rachael a partner over time, giving her one percent a year. That is great thinking, honey.”

“No Dad, I want to be a vet, not a baker. But I also want to see you and Mom succeed, so you will get all my ideas and writings. So if you guys are okay with that, I’ll go print out a couple of them as signs for the store. I’ll put one right on the door, so everyone will see it as they come in. You can keep that copy for the lady from the newspaper.”

When the day ended at 6, Mike served up the Red Velvet cake he had been working on, and Maria and Geoff added it to the cakes that were being served. He promised to try a Black Forest cake on Monday.

“Oh my God,” Rachael said as she bit into her slice of the light, chocolaty cake. “This is really good.” She Googled Red Velvet Cake and read the Wikipedia entry. “It says here that people thought that the Red Velvet Cakes sold in Eaton’s restaurants were the invention of Lady Eaton, the wife of the department store founder. Do you think we could call them Lady Eaton’s Red Velvet Cakes? Or would there be copyright issues?”

“Eaton’s has been out of business for 15 years. I doubt anyone will care. Let’s go with that, and if some lawyer objects to a tiny Ontario bakery using the name, we will rename it,” Geoff said.

Everyone enjoyed the cake, and Maria noted that there would be no one working on Sunday. Mike objected, saying that he had arranged for Gary and Chipper to come in after services to work on the funky molder.

“All right,” Geoff said reluctantly, “but then the bakery will make all the bread and rolls for the church supper on Wednesday. Cloud rolls. And we can do a dessert for everyone too. Brownies perhaps.”

“You know, for the homeless people who come, we could do a little baggie with a sandwich or two for them for the next day, and a couple cookies,” Rachael suggested.

“Good idea,” Maria said. “I remember how Gary’s face used to light up when I offered him a bun or two for sweeping the sidewalk. We can order cold cuts, lettuce, and tomatoes from Dasilva’s for fixings.”

Soon after everyone headed to their respective homes. Mike turned down an offer to join the family at the new house, but agreed to come to the Sunday dinner. Rachael also asked Geoff to invite his mother on Sunday. “She is part of the family: Grandma,” Rachael said.

At home Rachael and Maria made a simple dinner using a frozen lasagna. Geoff was about to go out and find Bobby when he saw the boy riding madly from the direction of Marc’s home. The boy seemed to have an internal clock that went off at dinner time.

He managed to get his hands washed in time to toss the salad. There were also Clouds for rolls, and Grandpa, who had not tasted them pronounced them excellent, comparing the taste to the field rations that he had eaten on the march to Holland, when the men had to go nearly a week without hot food. He was thrilled with the Angel Food cake, which didn’t look so bad when it was sliced. Rachael deliberately made the slices small, knowing that Bobby would beg for seconds.

After dinner they sat around like a real family. There was a hockey playoff game on Grandpa’s large screen television, and Bobby sat on Geoff’s lap watching the pros in the Stanley Cup finals. Bobby was cheering for the Penguins, paying particular attention to goalie Marc-Andre Fleury and scoring sensation Sidney Crosby.

Maria and Rachael started by doing laundry, which had piled up over the past few weeks. Rachael had been trying to keep up, but with Maria at the bakery or sleeping almost all week, things had fallen behind. But with the two working at it, they soon had cleared up the backlog, and sat on the sofa together, folding clothes for the baskets that would be taken up to the bedrooms as the guys watched hockey.

Eventually Grandpa started nodding off, and Rachael took him to his bedroom, kissing him after helping him into his pajamas. She then headed out to the living room and told Bobby that she expected him to have a bath during the second intermission, and even started the bathwater for her brother so he could watch the last minute of the period, which took several minutes to play.

Then Bobby shot off the couch to run for the tub, stripping off his clothes as he ran to the tub, eager to get done before the intermission ended.

Maria stood up and called: “Mister, we don’t throw clothes like that in this house.” Bobby stopped in his tracks, but Rachael said: “Hurry up and get into the tub, Tiger. I will get your clothes.” Bobby continued his run to the bathroom as Rachael followed picking up the boy’s clothes and dropping them in the hamper in his room.

“You spoil that boy,” Maria scolded as Rachael returned to the family. She noticed that Maria had taken Bobby’s place on Geoff’s lap.

“I know, but I love him so much. He is a great kid,” Rachael said.

“Both of my kids are great,” Maria said. “Both of our kids.”

“Sitting there holding him: being a Dad. It was just great,” Geoff said. “It made all the work the last few weeks great. The bakery is doing great. We beat our sales record today, and even with all the new staff we are making good money.

On Hockey Night in Canada, who air the Stanley Cup in Canada, intermission ends with an interview of a player. When this came on Rachael called up to warn Bobby that the game was back on soon. They heard frantic splashing, and then three minutes later he came down with wet hair and wearing a big fluffy towel. He glared at his mother until she stood up, and then he nestled in to his former seat on Geoff’s lap.

He watched the start of the period, but was snoring softly after five minutes of play. “I’ll take him to bed,” Rachael said.

“No, let me,” Geoff said, getting up and carrying the sleeping boy to his room. Rachael assented. She would have had to wake Bobby, and that would have resulted in an argument about him wanting to watch the rest of the game.

“He really is a great Dad, isn’t he?” Maria said as they watched the baker carry his burden up the stairs.

“He sure is, Mom,” Rachael said. “Good job in picking a great guy. We haven’t had much experience with a father, but he sure has won his way into our hearts.”

“He is so cute up there,” Geoff said when he came back and gave Rachael a big hug before he again sat into his chair. “I always thought that a father’s love for his children was something that grew as they did. But I love you guys as much as I can. You are great kids, and you have a great mom.”

The great mom moved back to her former position on Geoff’s lap and then said ‘yuck’ when she found that his pants were damp from moisture that had run through Bobbie’s towel. She didn’t move though.

The game ended and Pittsburg won, taking a 3-1 lead in the best of seven series. Not long after the three remaining members of the family were yawning.

“It’s not fair,” Maria said. “We finally get a night when we don’t have to go to bed early and we are all too tired to enjoy it.”

“Well, we do have to get up earlier tomorrow,” Rachael noted. “Pastor Helen wants us at the sunrise service at the church. We should all go to bed. Are you coming with us, Dad?”

That last word brought a smile to Geoff’s face, as it almost always did. “I wouldn’t miss getting to show off my new family, just to sleep in,” he said. “Wake us when breakfast is ready.”

“So I’m back to my position as galley slave, am I?” Rachael said with a chuckle. “It will have to be Love Bread French Toast. That is Bobbie’s favorite for Sunday mornings.”

Minutes later Rachael was ready to pray:

Dear Lord

Thank you for a wonderful day. We got all of the shooting done for our video. I hope it works to make people remember the veterans. Grandpa’s speech, remembering those who couldn’t come home, is so touching it makes me cry just thinking about it. No actor could provide that kind of feeling. I missed most of the bake sale today and all of Gary’s sale, but thank you for making them a success. We will use all the money raised to help others, and make you proud. And thanks for such a wonderful evening with my family. I love them all so much, and I know it is you who is responsible. I hope what I am doing merits all that I am gaining from my Second Chance.

Amen