The Fifth Season
by Atonia
It was neither fish nor fowl, summer or winter, spring or fall, I don’t even know what day of the week it was. It was time stolen out of the universe uncharted that’s the only way I can explain it. Sometimes now it brushes against me and I close my eyes a fleeting moment and it’s gone. A whisper on the wind his scent sometimes so close but I am alone even when his warm breath is on my skin. You might think it was only a dream a fantasy…how then would you explain this child that I hold to my breast.
Part 1
Having nowhere else to go I’d gone down to live with my brother his wife and two children. He’s older than me by ten years and like our parents their first child was about to go to college and the other not yet ten years old. I’d offered to keep Mattie while they went to Europe but they insisted on taking her with them, a month of traveling about before Linc went off to college. An educational trip they declared for both of their children. That was fine with me…the time alone I had a lot to think about.
The old farmhouse settled around me and I walked through the downstairs rooms after they’d gone, touching familiar things from my childhood, things our mother cherished and things our father had made, like the hutch in the kitchen. I poured myself a glass of iced tea and wandered out on the back porch finding a seat on the glider. The wind was getting up and the wind chimes made a pleasant sound hanging from the roof line of the porch. The fat black and white cat, Juicy, was asleep in a wicker chair and the dog of unknown parentage stretched out in the last rays of the sun at the bottom of the porch steps.
It felt good to be home, even though it wasn’t my home anymore; it belonged to Matison and Karen now. Still I’d spent my childhood here traces of me still remained in the attics and carved on the old apple trees in the orchard beyond the barn. I finished my tea and left the porch and walked down to the orchard, the apples were not yet ripe but soon would be, coming out on the other side I looked back at the old rambling farmhouse, clouds seemed to be gathering in the distance it looked like we might have a storm. I stopped by the clothes line pulling the sheets and pillowcases into my arms and went back inside. Later I watched my favorite DVD with my favorite actor and fell asleep on the long comfy sofa in the den.
It was quite a storm that hit that night, I remember waking and sitting up listening to the wind batter the old house, the power flickered and went out. I had no idea of the time and found a flashlight in the hall chest and went around fastening windows and doors, the cat came in but the dog was nowhere to be found. The house secured I went upstairs to my room and went to bed.
The sun was shining the next morning and I dressed and went downstairs, the power was back on thankfully so I made coffee and opened the back door and walked out on the porch. I noticed the air felt different somehow fresher, cleaner but then that happens after a storm so I thought nothing of it. Looking out over the fields I smiled thinking how green everything was, almost like the color of everything had been heightened, even the barn looked redder and the sky bluer. The air was cool and I pulled my cotton cardigan around my shoulders. I sat down on the glider to finish my coffee and looked up the dirt road that divided the orchard from the cornfields, that’s when I saw the rider.
I wasn’t alarmed, it was a dark figure some distance from the house and alongside the horse ran the dog, Kibbles. It wasn’t a stranger then or the dog would have been in the yard barking. I stepped off the porch and watched, the closer it came I saw it was a man on a black horse. He stopped just before the road dipped down and ran up beside the barn. I thought he’d seen me and I waved. He didn’t respond but urged his horse on toward the barn. I waited at the foot of the steps thinking I could make a mad dash for the back door if I felt uneasy with the man, who now appeared with Kibbles walking toward the house.
There was something familiar about his walk the way he held himself and moved. The closer he came the more familiar he was. I backed against the bottom step lost my balance and sat down hard on the step.
“Good mornin’ Susan, I think you’re ready for me,” that’s what I know I heard before I fainted.
I came to on the glider my head resting on two firm thighs, a cool cloth was on my forehead and I felt the slight movement of the glider beneath me, slowly I opened my eyes, I looked into two blue green eyes that were filled with concern.
I stammered, “How…how can you be here?”
“Here…where is here…are you all right now?” the soft southern drawl was unmistakable.
“I’m…yes I’m all right,” I answered but was I? “I don’t understand…you can’t be real.” I began feeling for a knot on my head surely I was seeing something that wasn’t there.
“Kibble’s knows I am,” he said scratching behind the dogs ears. I looked at Kibbles who gave him lick on his hand and then stuck his nose on my cheek.
I sat up next to him and shook my head he was grinning now and removed his hat running his hands through his hair; I noticed the black gloves on the glider beside him. Tentatively I reached out and touched his arm feeling the soft suede leather and the warmth of his hand.
“You are real,” I said blinking my eyes.
His eyes were light and teasing, “Did you think I was a dream, I’m about as real as it gets.”
“Why are you here…how did you get here?” I asked him
He dipped his head a moment and looked out toward the fields and horizon, “Tell you the truth Susan, I have no idea where here is or how I got here but the why…” he looked back at me.
His gaze settled on me like a warm blanket I couldn’t move caught up in his eyes as I was. I felt his hand cover mine and looked down I remember how neatly trimmed his nails were and how clean. Shaking my head I looked up and smiled. He smiled back and asked if I had any more of that coffee I’d spilt.
“Yes,” I said, “would you like it out here or would you like to come inside?”
“I think I’d like to come in if you don’t mind.” He answered and followed me into the kitchen. He placed his hat on the table and looked around. “Nice house.” He stated and pulled a chair from the table and sat down.
I managed to find a mug and poured out coffee and brought it to him along with a small jug of milk, the sugar bowl was on the table. “It’s an old house,” I looked up realizing for him it might not be, “I mean it was built in the late 1800’s”
“I can see that but it’s weathered well, it’s been taken care of…is it yours?”
“It’s actually my family home it belongs to my brother now. I’m just staying here until I get my bearings.”
“I understand that thinkin’, where is home for you?” he asked mixing milk with his coffee.
That was a question I couldn’t answer, the one I had was gone. “I guess I’m in limbo now…I uh left my husband and…well I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet...Matison, that’s my brother asked me to come here until I got myself sorted out.”
“Sounds like a brotherly thing for him to do,” that gaze again over his mug rattled me. “Aren’t you havin’ any?”
“Oh, yes…actually breakfast would you like some?” I know I sounded scattered but believe me that’s the way I felt.
“Yes ma’am I’d love breakfast. I don’t remember the last time I ate.” He seemed to puzzle over this a moment and took another sip of his coffee. I got up and found a frying pan and pulled out bacon and eggs and butter from the fridge.
Soon the kitchen smelled of bacon and I had the toaster going and eggs frying. He sat back, contented to watch me cook. Placing the filled plates on the table I asked if he’d like some juice and he asked what kind I had, looking in the fridge it was orange and apple.
“Orange is fine,” he said accepting a glass.
I asked him if they had orange juice back in his day and he looked up at me with a wide smile.
“How old do you think I am?” he asked me.
I said I didn’t know, I was just thinking about the time period he was from.
He laughed, “Yes Susan we had orange juice in the 1960’s”
I dropped my fork, “You are Ben Wade?” I asked looking him in the eye.
He paused his knife and fork, “Yes I am…flesh and blood…Ben Wade.”