Christopher's Journey: Sometimes it takes being lost to find yourself Page 10

  Chapter 7

  Chris woke up the next morning stiff and sore. He had slept so hard that the side of his face hurt and he was certain it was imprinted from the pillow. It was not light out yet but he could hear movement downstairs and could smell coffee. He leaned over and struck a match to light the kerosene lamp. Surprisingly, it wasn't as easy as it seemed. He kept turning the knob the wrong way making the wick go down rather than up, snuffing the flame. It took him a couple of tries to get it right making him feel like a fool. Oh, how he missed electricity and light switches.

  Once he had light and found his clothes, he heard footsteps on the stairs, down the hall and stopping at his door.

  "Chris?"

  "Come in." Chris answered after he quickly pulled on his jeans.

  Mr. Browley cracked open the door. "Coffee is on, if you want a cup before heading out to the barn, you need to be downstairs in five minutes."

  "I'll be down." Chris answered with some curt in his voice, annoyed that he now felt rushed.

  "I brought you something from the missus" he held out a folded pile of clothes with a pair of boots in the other hand. "she took some of my old clothes and hemmed them up for you last night. We're not sure what type of material you're clothes are but they don't seem to move with you well out in the fields. You're going to be doing a lot of bending and squatting today in the garden, so these might suit you better. You're shoes are nothing we've ever seen before either." Mr. Browley cleared his throat. "Wouldn't want you to ruin them in all this mud and dirt, so here are some work boots."

  Chris, trying to be insulted, took the clothes and tossed them onto the bed next to him.

  "I don't mean to tell ya what to do, but Mrs. Browley worked hard fittin' those clothes for you last night, it would be nice to thank her when you come down. See you in a few minutes." Without even waiting for a response, he strolled out the door.

  Chris fumbled through the clothes and was mortified that it was a white, button down shirt, a pair of brown pants with suspenders and a jacket that matched the material of the pants. The boots seemed in decent shape but were a little big for him. What was wrong with his jeans, t-shirt and tennis shoes. What? He didn't fit in with the clothes he was wearing?

  'No, I suppose I don't.' he thought. 'but I'm not here to fit in with anyone, either.'

  He slipped on the embarrassing clothes and started down the stairs really wanting that cup of coffee.

  "You take it black like everyone else?" Mrs. Browley asked, handing him a cup.

  "Sure." he responded taking the steaming cup. He looked over at Mr. Browley who was looking intently at him. "Oh, and... um... thanks for making these clothes for me." he muttered to Mrs. Browley.

  "Oh, you are certainly welcome. I figured with your hard work yesterday, you deserved your own pair of field duds." she said with a smile. She patted him on the shoulder and turned to check on whatever was in the oven.

  Chris plopped into the dining chair and inhaled the steam from his coffee.

  "It's a mite chilly out this morning. I'm glad the missus added a jacket in with your clothes. It didn't frost, though which makes me confident that we can start planting the garden today." Mr. Browley rambled on.

  'What do I care?' was Chris' first thought.

  "We're halfway done with our field seedin' and hopefully by the end of next week, we can start plowing and seedin' the old Horton property."

  He seemed to just be talking out loud, to no one in particular.

  “That’s nice, dear.” Mrs. Browley stated, acknowledging her husbands words.

  “Ruth, here, is going to get started fixing up your new... or temporary home today.”

  “That’s right. Priscilla and I are going to the Moyor Mercantile to pick up a few supplies for you, then we’ll stuff a mattress for you and weave a rug. I'm sure we have some old quilts in the trunk upstairs to use for the window and door. We’ll bring over a few supplies for you to get started with. It should be cozy in no time.” She said with another warm smile.

  “When you thinkin’ you’d like to take up residence there?” Mr. Browley asked.

  “I suppose as soon as it’s ready.” Chris replied. “There still won’t be a door or window?”

  “That will take some more time if you don’t want to move in until it’s ready. I’d have to frame a piece of glass and install it and build a door and a jam for it yet. The blankets over the openings will get you by.”

  “I suppose it’ll do.” Chris said. He felt a surge of independence knowing he’d have his own place even though it was just a hole in a hill. He didn’t know how to feel about returning to a place that almost claimed his life but he figured that could’ve happened anywhere.

  “Well, I suppose we should head out if we want to get most of those animals fed before breakfast.” Mr. Browley announced while sliding his chair back.

  “I’ll call you when breakfast is ready.” Mrs. Browley called after them.

  “I thought Mason was going to help us.” Chris complained as if he were a child.

  “Mason’s been in the barn now for nearly a half hour. He came out early to gather the eggs for the girls since they’ll be headin’ into town today.” He glanced back at Chris. “you could learn a lot from that boy.”

  What was that supposed to mean? Chris sneered at Mr. Browley’s back. He felt he was doing the best he could. Even though he’d have to deal with Mr. Browley every day, he couldn’t wait for the soddy to be ready so he could have a little time for himself.

  When the three of them headed in after the breakfast bell chimed, Chris immediately noticed Hanna up and about helping her mother and sister get breakfast on the table. She looked radiant in the early morning light. He wasn't sure what he was feeling for this girl but he knew he wanted to know more about her.

  After breakfast Mr. Browley, Mason and Chris headed back out to the barn to finish milking the cows. Chris was surprised how quickly he picked up the process being only his second day at the task. He was finishing a cow in less than 10 minutes now which was half the time of the day before. Mason and his father finished almost three to his one but nevertheless, he was proud of his accomplishment. When the milking was finished and the women were done with breakfast clean up, they all separated into their groups to begin the planned daily tasks.

  Mrs. Browley and Priscilla gathered the basket of eggs and headed to town. Mason and Mr. Browley began working on the field and finally, Chris was able to be alone with Hanna.

  She brought him out to the freshly plowed garden and kneeled down next to a basket. Inside were individually folded cloths. She explained what seeds were inside each cloth and told Chris how far apart they needed to go from one another.

  "On the mounds of dirt in each row, place the seed on top of the soil and press it down with your thumb." She began. "We will have four rows of each. Beans, squash, peas, corn, potatoes, tomatoes and two rows of sunflowers."

  "Wow." Chris exclaimed feeling a little overwhelmed. "What does your dad plant out in the fields?"

  "Pa?" Hanna responded with a baffled expression. "He is planting wheat, as he always does. He makes sure to save some room for feed corn and grain sorghum for the animals and, of course, the hayfield. We will have room over on the land he just bought from Mr. and Mrs. Horton for the feed crop this year, though. The good Lord always provides and we're thankful for that extra land this year. Shall we begin?"

  She took one packet from the basket and moved to the far north side of the garden. "You see how the rows are plowed? We plant our vegetables from West to East so they get the same amount of sunlight no matter the time of day. If we planted them from North to South and the corn in front of the beans, the beans would be shadowed in the morning light by the corn stalks when they've grown their tallest."

  Just as she explained, she took seed after seed out of the cloth, placed it gently on the mound of dirt and used her thumb to pu
sh it down, being careful to make sure it was completely covered. "Now this is the sweet corn, so the seeds need to be about 12 inches apart. I use my foot to judge the distance. I would go an inch or two past my footprint but you can use just your entire print. It makes it even that way." She seemed to keep a smile on her face even though Chris could tell the day was warming her.

  "Would you like to try?" She asked Chris who couldn't take his eyes off of her. All he managed to shake out was a nod. Hanna grabbed a handful of the seeds and handed Chris the cloth with the remaining seeds. "I will finish this row and the next, you can start on the third." She said as she pointed down the rows.

  By the time Hanna had finished her rows and had moved onto another packet of seeds, Chris was just finishing his first row of the sweet corn. He knew he was trailing behind but doing it correctly, especially in front of Hanna, was more important.

  When he started his last row, she was already on the first row of potatoes, in the row right next to him now. This was his opportunity to talk with her.

  "So... uh, how old are you?" he asked in a stammer, feeling immediately awkward.

  "I just turned 16." she replied, then paused for a moment. "I heard you may have what they call Amnesia. Do you not remember anything? Everybody keeps saying you just appeared from thin air."

  'I did.' Chris thought. He didn't dare say that, though. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was crazy.

  "I.. uh, well..." Chris' brain jumbled.

  "Well, look how well you two are working together. Is he catching on well?"

  Chris whipped around to see Mrs. Browley and Priscilla approaching, arms full of packages. Chris didn't know whether to feel irritated that they had been interrupted or relieved that they saved him from having to answer yet another question about where he came from.

  "He's catching on quite nicely." Hanna said. Her mother gave them both a gentle smile and turned to resume her duties in the house.

  Chris helped complete the four rows of potatoes, he rose to his feet and stretched his back. He raised his face to the afternoon sun and allowed it to soak into his skin. He opened his eyes and set them upon Hanna who had already moved onto the third set of seeds. Her sun bonnet had slipped off of her head and several strands of hair stuck to her sweat moistened face. The heat didn't seem to phase her as she diligently worked non stop.

  "I'm done with that row." he told her after his approach.

  "I saw Ma bring out a tray for us, shall we take a small break?" she said with her limited breath.

  They made their way over to the back covered porch as Chris plopped down into one of the rocking chairs. Knowing she must be more tired than he was, he watched as she elegantly took her seat making sure her back didn't touch the back of the chair. They each took a glass of lemonade and a sugar cookie from the tray.

  Hanna was the first to break the silence. "So, do you know what you want to do with your life?" she asked.

  "Oh, um, I've never really thought about it."

  "You're nineteen years old." she sounded amazed. "You should already be in the first stages of what you want to do. Have you any interest to go to school, be a farmer, move to the city?"

  'I'm from a city.' Chris thought. "Farming had never been on my list. The only jobs in the city I'm from was in automotive and that was a good place to be. It beats working in fast food, anyway. I just never seemed to be able to qualify for anything since I didn't finish school. I..." Chris caught himself and stopped before she thought of him as a complete loser. You don't tell a girl you're interested in about all of your failures. He took a quick glance over to Hanna who had a brow raised expression on her face.

  "You seem to remember quite a bit for somebody who is supposed to have Amnesia." Her eyes narrowed as she rose from her chair. “Back to work.” she announced.

  “Well Ruth, I’m stacked to a fill.” Mr. Browley leaned back into his chair after supper, rubbing his middle. “How did everyone do today?”

  “Ma and I finished the rug and the mattress for the sod house and found the blankets we’ll be using for the doorway and window.” Priscilla announced.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Browley chimed in. “we should have it right and comfy for you tomorrow evening.”

  “What about you two.” Mr. Browley turned to Hanna and Chris.

  “Well, I think I learned more than Mr. Scholt did today. Something about food that is fast and automot... auto.. what was that word?” She looked at Chris with narrowed eyes.

  Chris just shrugged. He didn’t realize his slip up would upset her so. “Hanna was right yesterday. Gardening is not as easy as it sounds.”

  “You’ll find plenty what some folk, from the city for example, think sounds easy but is back breaking work.” Mr. Browley said, saving Chris.

  “Yes, and what city are you from?” Hanna began again, staring down Chris.

  “Now, dear. Don’t be rude. You know Chris is having trouble remembering the past at this moment. You shouldn’t be so harsh with him.” Mrs. Browley said, scolding her oldest daughter.

  “Yes, ma’am.” she replied.

  Hanna and Chris locked eyes. He was going to have to figure out how to talk his way out of this one and fast.

  The morning light crested through the window, waking Chris who was still sore from his work the day before but less than after working the fields. He stared around the room that he would be leaving today. Relief was the emotion that followed that thought. He was digging himself a hole with this family already. He would need to watch what he said or be forced to try to explain the truth. Nobody would believe his story, he was sure of that.

  A soft knock rattled the door. “Chris, time to get up.” Mrs. Browley quietly announced, cracking open the door. “The animals need tending before breakfast, then it’s off to church.”

  Church? Chris couldn’t remember the last time he’d attended a service but he did recall the last time he’d been in a church, it was the last night he spent in 1998. The evening he prayed to God to help him and look what happened. He was certain that if he stepped foot into church, he’d be struck down.

  “Do I have to go?” Chris whined like a child.

  “It’s Sunday morning. It’s proper to attend church and necessary in order to build and strengthen your relationship with God. Besides, you are a new member of our community, you must make your appearance for the town to welcome you. I’ll expect to see you downstairs in five minutes?”

  She said it as a question, but Chris knew it was a demand. He dressed in his work clothes and headed down the stairs.

  Hanna was up helping prepare breakfast when Chris entered the kitchen. She looked at him but did not say a word, not even her usual warm smile. She was truly upset with him.

  He sat down and accepted his cup of coffee from Mrs. Browley. "I'm finding that some memories keep wafting in and out of my head." he began, making an effort to save himself from his stumble the day before. "I've been having flashbacks of a city where I think I may be from and brief flashbacks of my childhood. They seem to float out of my head as fast as they enter. That's why I stopped short while we talked yesterday, Hanna... it was gone as quickly as it came."

  Chris left it at that hoping that she'd buy it and give him another chance. The last thing he wanted her to see in him was a lying imposter. He glanced at her as she quickly looked away. Had she believed him?

  "Give it time, Chris, it'll come." Mrs. Browley stated still facing the stove. "You'd better get on out to the barn, breakfast will be ready soon."

  Chris stepped off the back porch as his steps seemed to match the coo's of the early morning doves. The light fog that hung over the fields offered some mystery to the dawn. Chris saw the distant shadows of several deer bounding close to the tree line. The new, dew moistened grass squeaked beneath his feet. Chris couldn't help but to acknowledge the splendor of the morning. He could never imagine himself a morni
ng person but, come to think of it, he'd been up before the sun the last two mornings.

  He entered the barn, grabbed the stool and bucket sitting up against the wall and headed straight for his usual cow to milk her. He didn't even search for Mr. Browley for instructions, he knew what he was doing by now. The monotony of the same stuff day after day would soon wear him down, he thought but it was nice, now in the newness of the situation to know exactly what to do and when.

  This newfound independence and self worth made Chris feel a sense of accomplishment, something he'd strived his entire life to feel. Why couldn't he find this back in his world? Why did he have to somehow travel 130 years just to catch a glimpse of it?

  "Welcome all." Pastor Walling began as everyone took their seats. "Let us first take the stress of our week off of our bodies and have a moment of silence to prepare our hearts to praise and worship our Lord."

  Chris looked around as everyone closed their eyes and bowed their heads. The woman at the piano began to softly play a melody, then came to a close.

  "Our first order of business this morning is to announce that the Edmunds will be having their barn raising next Saturday. There will be a picnic and a dance at the Edmunds place Sunday afternoon to commemorate the occasion. Prayers to everyone that the barn goes up safely and sound. Prayers for Margaret Johanson while she recovers from her fall last week. Your continued prayers for Margaret have helped her heal nicely from her injuries and she wanted me to thank each and every one of you. Also, I'd like to introduce the congregation to the newest member of our community. Chris Scholt happened upon us by accident, or did he? I believe the good Lord sent you to us." He winked at Chris then turned back to the congregation. "Chris has been helping the Browley family on their farm and has plans to continue doing so while he resides in the old Horton place. A hearty welcome."

  The congregation lightly applauded while staring at Chris. Although they all smiled kindly at him, he'd never felt so exposed and uncomfortable.

  "Now, lets go into our morning prayers." The pastor stated.

  As he continued on with his sermon, Chris' mind wondered. His attention span was never long, he was tired and he watched people as they intently listened to everything the pastor had to say, some nodding every so often.

  The pastor's voice faded even more as Chris checked out the small building. The roof beams were exposed showing the underside of the roof boards, the walls were bare except a cross that hung behind the small podium the pastor stood behind and a large iron stove stood in the middle of the room with five rows of pews on either side.

  Chris could feel his eyelids growing heavy but would not give in. He had been made the center of attention by the pastor. How would it look if he fell asleep and started snoring? He sat up straighter and tried to listen intently to what Pastor Walling was saying.

  Chris got that he was talking of a journey. That of Moses and his people. Chris was slightly aware of this story from what he heard from his grandma, she had told him many stories from the Bible. None that he could remember enough to recite but certainly remembered if he heard it. How fitting that he spoke today about a journey to another land. It was as though the sermon was based around him and his situation, but the pastor didn’t know anything about Chris’ situation.

  “We will now open our Bibles to Numbers 14:7 and read about how the people rebelled. Let’s read together - ’The land we passed through and explored is exceedingly good. If the Lord is pleased with us, he will lead us into that land, a land flowing with milk and honey, and will give it to us. Only do not rebel against the Lord. And do not be afraid of the people of the land, because we will swallow them up. Their protection is gone, but the Lord is with us. Do not be afraid of them.’ ... Let us pray.”

  Again the congregation closed their eyes and bowed their heads. Chris’ eyes seemed to be stuck open in a wide expression. Was this sermon for him? The pastor seemed to cover what he was going through and his feelings about the situation. He had come here against his will, he had been terrified of these people, he felt stuck with no way out feeling like this was a curse being set upon him, he was rebelling. The tornado wasn’t enough to set him straight... was God trying to reach him again?