* * * * *
Chris arrived at the Browley farm on time for the first time in the weeks he’d been working for them. Since he’d moved into the sod house the month before, he was on his own to get himself up, around, out the door and to the farm. He’d been showing up anywhere between breakfast and the end of the morning chores.
Mason was upset that Chris would get away with such behavior and took it out on Chris with a demanding attitude even though his mother would sternly shush him.
“Well, good morning!” Mrs. Browley excitedly perked up when Chris walked into the kitchen. “you made it in time to have a cup of coffee, even. Is it getting easier to get up now?”
“A little. I’ve never been used to it. I got myself up for school as a kid but I also had an alarm clock.” Chris stopped himself again to giving too much information. Mrs. Browley wrinkled her brow but didn’t say a word as she handed him a steaming cup of coffee, black.
“Mr. Browley isn’t even down yet, you beat the whole household awake this morning. I’m very proud of you.” Mrs. Browley’s smile always warmed Chris inside. She had been the nicest lady Chris had ever met in his life. He never would have imagined a mom could be this gentle, kind, giving and caring. He wasn’t even her child but she still praised him and seemed to genuinely care for him.
“Well, well, well...” Mr. Browley chanted as he came strolling in. “Look who we have here.”
“Oh, stop George, he’s doing the best he can.” Mrs. Browley scolded.
“Since the fields are planted, the garden is done and the wood is replenished, what do we do now?” Chris asked, hoping the answer would be for him to take a day off.
“You ever been fishing?” Mr. Browley asked.
“Maybe as a kid but I don’t know...” Chris actually thought hard about if he had been fishing, maybe with his grandma. She’s the only person who would have taken him fishing or anywhere for that matter.
“Well, since school is out, Mason was going to go down to the river and see what he can scurry up. Some canned Salmon this time of year always hits the spot. What do you say?”
Sitting on a creek bank, fishing in the warm sun and fresh breeze versus pulling weeds or shoveling out manure... didn’t seem like a hard choice.
“Sure. Is Mason going to want to spend a day with me?”
“Hush now.” Mrs. Browley cut in. “He will be delighted. It gives you two a chance to bond.”
“What?” Mason almost shouted when he came around the corner.
“You’re going to teach Chris how to catch a slew of Salmon today, it’s always what you do when school is out and you’d be helping him by showing him something new.”
“Uhh, Paaa...” Mason whined. It was certain to Chris now, that Mason did not care for him one bit.
“My word is final, be a good chance for you two to clear the air. Understood?”
“Yes sir.” Mason finally answered.
“You two can take off for the river when we’re done with the morning chores. We’d better get on out there if we want to make it to breakfast on time.”
“This is were I like to fish.” Mason announced after they trailed the river for what seemed like hours.
He dropped the equipment he was carrying and started stringing his pole without stopping to show Chris how to do it.
Once they got everything ready and settled down onto the bank, Chris thought this would be a good time to ‘clear the air’ as Mr. Browley put it.
“Mason, why don’t you like me?”
“Who said I didn’t like you?” He said, his voice drenched in sarcasm.
“It’s not personal to you when I’m late, I’m just having a hard time getting up in the morning, I’m working on it. Don’t you ever have days like that? Where you just can’t seem to wake up?”
“Well, yeah... but I always get in trouble for it, you don’t!”
“Believe me, once the newness of my presence wears off, I won’t be getting away with much, I’m sure.”
“I wanted to like you, Chris. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any brothers.”
“I never had any brothers, either... what do you say we start over?”
Masons lips pulled over to the side and his nose wrinkled as he thought intently on the offer. “Alright.” he answered.
Chris meant what he had said to Mason, he had always wanted siblings, but selfishly what clouded his mind was getting on everyone’s good side would help his chances with Hanna. Priscilla and Mrs. Browley loved him, Mason was starting to like him, Mr. Browley may take a bit more time but Chris was confident that he was doing a good job around the farm. That only left Hanna. Even though she had begun talking to him again, it wasn’t with the same warmth. Maybe she was just waiting for him to be more aggressive with her. He wasn’t going to win her heart by standing in the shadows.
Chris remembered the barn dance the month before over at the Edmunds place. Not only had he been exhausted from the day before, raising walls, nailing wooden pegs into hand drilled holes, sawing for hours and hours but he also didn't know or care for any of the dances that seemed to entertain everyone but him. He felt obligated to attend because of the Pastor and the Browley family. They seemed determined to push him into a community he didn't want to be a part of. As he stood on the wall closest to the food table and watched Hanna, a strange boy approached her. Chris stood straighter and narrowed his eyes.
"Hello, Mr. Scholt." sounded a familiar voice.
Chris looked beside him to see Louis Kinsley meandering up toward him. He slapped Chris on the shoulder as he smiled largely revealing his deteriorating teeth.
“How’s life treatin’ ya? I hear you been livin’ in the soddy and workin’ for the Browleys. Glad to hear yer stayin’!” Mr. Kinsley stated excitedly.
Chris nodded but couldn’t tear his eyes away from Hanna and her company.
“Who’s that?” He asked Mr. Kinsley in a whisper.
“That there with Hanna? That’s Cale, Cale Edmund. It’s his family, here, that needed the new barn. They’ve been livin' here for some time but had a terrible fire earlier in the spring. Burned down the entire barn. They don’t suspect foul play or nothin’, they just think that it was embers from their chimney.”
“He looks kind of old for her, doesn’t he?” Chris stated, trying to find a fault in this strapping young man.
“Oh, let’s see here... Cale is 17 years old now. Hanna aint much younger than that.”
Chris’ eyes widened. This boy was only 17 years old? He was inches taller than Chris with broad shoulders and muscular build. His chiseled facial features and blonde hair set Chris back in the shadows. How could he possibly compete with that?
Chris’ entire body tightened as he felt jealousy overpower. As he watched them smile, talk and laugh with one another, he had the urge to stomp over, push him aside and grab her hand to lead her out, maybe even get a punch or two, in.
What kept his feet nailed to the floor was the worry that Hanna would hate him forever if he’d done such a thing.
When Cale extended his hand and Hanna accepted it and they began moving around the dance floor together, that was all Chris could take. He marched out of the barn and returned to his soddy to weep and wallow.
He’d stood back and had done nothing. He couldn’t believe it. Maybe Hanna wouldn’t have gotten upset with his forwardness, maybe she wanted someone to take charge. Chris had seen movies to where it was attractive to the women to be told what to do by the man. The bad boy image. This was back in the ‘olden days’, too. Wasn’t the man supposed to be in charge? All he knew was that he wanted Hanna and he would do anything he could to win her affection.
Chris took one hand off of his fishing pole and studied it. The countless blisters he’d accumulated over the last month or so had hardened into calluses which he was grateful for. The Browley’s had furnished him with some heavy duty gloves to protect his hands
but they could only protect so much.
The pole jolted making Chris have to use both hands. “You got one.” Mason stated excitedly. He grabbed Chris’ fishing pole while Chris still clung to it. With both of their efforts, a large fish was finally flung from the water.
Chris stared at it. “That is the first fish I’ve ever caught.” he stated with some pride.
“That didn’t take too long. We sit here for a couple more hours and we should have plenty for a feast tonight and for canning, too. That’s just what Pa wanted.”
Chris, still excited about the catch and wanting more, was unsure if he could handle a couple more hours with the thoughts running through his head.
Then the thought came, unexpectedly, that made his body drop. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d thought of anything from 1998. All of his thoughts, his concerns, his worries and his joys have been from here, 1868. The thought startled him.
‘This is not my home!’ Chris thought, trying to convince himself.
“You boys... I mean men did an excellent job today.” Mrs. Browley beamed as she accepted the two lines full of fish from Chris and Mason. Mason puffed out his chest and sported a big, prideful grin.
“Chris actually caught some of those.” Mason stated not vindictively but to perhaps put more credit upon himself.
“You two have a nice chat while you were out?” Mrs. Browley asked with hesitation in her voice.
“Yeah, we’re fine.” Chris decided to answer first, short and sweet.
“Well, good. My boys!” She stated with another smile and a gleam in her eye. “I will begin preparing these beauties as soon as I get the pie I’m going to make into the oven. Oh, fiddle sticks.” Mrs. Browley stated suddenly as she stomped one of her heavy shoes. “I forgot to get the milk. Hanna?”
Chris’ heart sank at even the mention of her name. A lump rose in his throat as he heard her footsteps above him, then descend the stairs.
“Yes, Ma?” she said, slightly breathless.
“Would you kindly go get me some milk out of the spring house? Chris, have you ever been in the spring house? I don’t think I’ve had you fetch anything from there, yet. Hanna, why don’t you show Chris the spring house and where we keep the extra milk. One jug should be plenty for supper.”
Chris allowed Hanna to go down the porch steps first like a true gentlemen but then remembered his plan. He’s tried the polite, say nothing strategy, that wasn’t working. Then after seeing her with Cale, he needed a more abrasive approach. He needed to be the unforgettable one.
They strolled across the yard, toward the creek that fed off of the same river he’d sat near all day. Chris purposely brushed up against Hanna so their arms and pinkies slightly touched. At first, Chris thought that she was accepting his gesture, but then noticed she took some steps to the side to avoid the contact.
They approached a small building that Chris had seen several times but never thought to ask what it was for. It was built right over the small creek that ran behind the yard. The windowless, stone building was short with a wooden door that Chris had to bend over to get through. Inside was dark, so Hanna left the door open.
Chris could hear the babbling of the water running through and as his eyes adjusted, noticed a rickety bridge that set over the creek. Off of each end of the bridge was rope leading down into the water.
Hanna carefully and gracefully crossed the bridge and kneeled to pull up one of the ropes. Up, out of the water came a large, ceramic jug.
“This is where we store our extra milk to keep it cold.” she offered, noticing his puzzled expression.
“Oh, like a fridge.”
Another puzzled expression, only this time it came from Hanna.
“Refrigeration.” Chris stated, worried of how to recover. “It’s something I heard of once.”
“Refrigeration. I heard Pa talking about something like that once. He read somewhere in a newspaper that a Refrigerator car was patented by someone named... umm.. Davis, earlier this year. Is that where you heard of it?”
“Yeah.” Chris answered instantly, relieved of how well that played out.
Hanna glanced at him as she rose to her feet and crossed the bridge. She strolled up to him and stopped only inches from his face.
Chris’ heart was thumping so hard, he felt that she would be able to hear it. He could feel her breath on him and wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms.
Hanna’s eyes narrowed. “You remember more than you’re letting on, don’t you? I’m not buying it, Mr. Scholt. I don’t think you ever had Amnesia. You can quit the game, now.”
Chris’ stomach dropped. That was why Hanna had stopped speaking with him. The very first day he’d slipped and began talking about his childhood, she’d caught that and hung onto it. His worst fear was confirmed that she thought of him not as an eligible suitor but as a lying imposter.
Chris lowered his head. “Ok, I do remember some things, things that I would be too ashamed to admit especially to an upstanding family like yours, but I truly do not know how I got here.”
Hanna’s eyes softened as she backed away from Chris. “I’m sorry I’ve behaved so harshly. I apologize.”
She hung her head in shame as a tear trickled down her cheek.
“What’s wrong?” Chris asked taking another step toward her.
“I’m ashamed of my behavior. I have judged you, a person who is in need of our help and support and guidance. It is our duty as children of God to take care of one another and not to judge. That is in the hands of our Father. I have not acted as a Christian and I beg for your forgiveness. It’s just that my family, they are so important to me.”
Chris took another step toward her so that he was now inches from her face. “I understand.” He simply said as he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.
He could tell that she wanted to back away from him but didn’t. Chris took advantage of the opportunity of the moment. He swept the strands of hair from her face, moved his stroking hand down to her neck and leaned in. His lips met hers. In that split second, Chris felt a rush run through his body, from his lips down to his toes. He’d been waiting over a month for this moment, since the first time he’d laid eyes on her.
At the end of that split second, Chris felt another sensation as Hanna jumped back and slapped his face as hard as her tiny hand would allow.
“How dare you, Mr. Scholt. I was leaning on you for support from my outrageous behavior and your response is to behave even more dreadfully. That was the most improper gesture I have ever witnessed let alone been involved in."
Hanna picked up the jug of milk she had accidentally dropped and stormed out of the spring house. Chris bent over to get through the spring house door and closed it behind him.
‘What was it going to take to get through to this girl?’ Chris wondered as he saw his options melting away. Hiding in the shadows, being the strong, silent type didn’t seem to attract any attention from her and being blunt and aggressive got plenty of attention from her but not in the way he’d hoped. The only time she seemed to lean toward him was when he was genuinely being himself.
How simple that seemed but how dreadful in Chris‘ mind. A mindless, heartless thug from a broken home and a former, violent, thieving gang member. That should certainly melt the heart of the one he felt he was falling in love with.