Guest: I hear ya! Hope you love the update!
Guest: Hear you to! Here you go!
Happier than Most: I'm glad you love the conversation and image of Johnny at the end. Yes Wendy has the urge to reach out and grasp him. Though...she wouldn't know fully what to do if she had him I think. Yeah, I like to think Johnny had a little more confidence before the jumping, little more life. Tried to show that.
Stay Gold: I'm glad to hear it! hope you keep liking my work!
lulusgardenfli:Than you for your kind praise! I love to make images with my words! and it's better when people appreciate them!
songsingsitself : I'm glad you like Johnny's characterization!
Chapter IX
S*S
After spending so long in the suburban wild of Tulsa, the rush of green topped trees along the road was a very welcomed, and well missed sight to Wendy's eyes. Even though the weather had gotten more brisk lately, with the wind anxious to get somewhere, it was still warm enough for just the light yellow sweater she wore now, comfortably squished between her brothers, their geography textbook on her blue skirted lap, and their homework on their own.
"Alright," Wendy drew out slowly, running a delicate finger down that map of the United States, tracing the familiar lines of their home as the back of their father's car bopped along the road. "Which of you can tell me which state the Ohio River is located?"
Sam's eyes lit up and he bounced in his seat, pf flyers swinging like baseballs. "Oo! Oo!"
"Sam?"
He beamed, all shinning eyes and confidence.
"It's in California!" he announced, bold as Columbus must've been, when he planted his flag in Hispaniola.
Wendy blinked. Then she had to reframe from slamming the text book against her head.
"Um no, Sam," she forced herself to settle for instead. And watched as her brother deflated like a popped balloon. Meanwhile in the front seat, Connie smirked at the pair of them in the rearview mirror. Wendy glowered at her. Not a word, Con.
A plucked eyebrow arched from behind her sunglasses. No?
"NO?" Sam repeated, groaned almost.
"No," Wendy confirmed, trying her hardest to look and sound sympathetic rather than disbelieving. Geography had always been a struggle for the twins, the boys claiming the endless lines on the maps blurred together in their minds. But really -California? The Ohio River in California?
Eric, for his part, had puffed up with his brother's failure.
"Course its not in California," he huffed with authority, chin up, hands on his hips as best he could in the limited space. "It's in Florida, dummy."
This time, Connie had some sort of choughing fit, Wendy couldn't stop her head from falling back against her car seat, eyes closing. "...No Eric."
"No?"
"No."
"Ah, man..." Eric moaned, and from the sound had slumped himself. "Then where is it?"
Sam's tone shifted, and Wendy could just picture his gaze narrowing. "I think you're trying to trick us, Wendy. Is it even in the U.S.?"
"Yes, Sam," she forced herself to drone out, eyes still close. And within the glowing scarlet of her lids, she could see her mother with her hand to her forehead, a continual pink mark there from the hours she spent trying to do homework with her sons.
"From the stupidity of my children, Lord, preserve me!" she'd exclaimed when they answered questions like this, not seeing how it made them flinch in their seats, shoulders hunched, jaws tight. Loving mother she had been, but Mary Allen had been no soft touch when it came to her children's education. Actually...when driven to it, she could put a marine gunny sergeant to shame with her shouting. Wendy knew. Oh she knew. She could remember being on the receiving end of Mama's ire as well...only unlike the boys, she got to grow up, at least enough to realize that it wasn't her Mama had been angry at. And that she hadn't been angry at all.
Just worried.
After all, Mama knew the power of knowing things. All things.
As a child growing up in rural Hungary, Mama fought for the education her parents hadn't believed she needed. After all, Mama was going to get married when she was fourteen, like a good gypsy girl, have children, and take care of them and her husband. What did you need to read and write for, in order to do that? Thankfully, Mama hadn't listen, and snuck away every chance she got, hiding in the tree branches outside a local school; the kind teacher looking the other way to the comical sight. And a few of school boys, flattered by Mama's dark hair and pretty eyes, would let her look at their books.
But Mama's makeshift education had grind to a halt in a hail of bullets, when the Second World War came to her country, her family. And her ability to read and write more than her name had saved her life, making her a valuable worker when the Nazis started shipping Eastern Europeans to their cities' factories as free labor.
"Knoving things vas my ticket to Noah's ark, chey," Mama would say, with Wendy's head in her lap, on the very rare days when she would talk about her past -about Hungary, her childhood with her brothers and one sister - seeing things long lifetimes away, yet present in her eyes, equal with fondness and pain. "My family didn't have that. So vhen the flood came, they drown."
Mama never said how, so the shades of their ghost relatives never really solidified in Wendy's mind, lingering in her mother's childhood stories of Princess Firefly and the Boy Who Wouldn't Tell His Secret.
"Wendy?"
She opened her eyes again, the brilliant ruby flames gradually conforming into Sam's face, so like her own. So like Mama's. And just maybe like a few of those ghosts that wandered, grave-less, beneath branches in the ancient forest of the Old World.
"Yes?"
"Is the Ohio in Cap Code?"
"...No Sam."
S*S
Windrixville was a tried, settled old town; as gentle and slow moving as the cows and sheep that grazed it hills. It's rolled and tumbled hills were occasionally topped with neat white houses half the size of the Allens'. And somehow the cozier for it. Wendy adored rural places like this, with their steady, timeless isolation from the rest of the world, the same families growing up side by side for over a hundred years. And but for the American flag that hung from many of the front porches, and the modern, Western style of clothing on the people, Wendy like to think places like this were similar to what Mama had once called home. In spirit if not looks.
And in family.
Aunt Jeanie was gardening by her picket fence, planting tulip bulbs when they arrived at a ranch house half built into the hill. Just a walk away from the elementary school were her husband, Jerry, worked at as the principle.
"Not that the walk does anything to help his waistline," Connie had noted under her breath, when the Allens' had first met their new Uncle back in Washington. At the time, Wendy had very nearly stepped on her sister foot to silence such pettiness. But Mama had still been around, and knew how to beat her firstborn at her own game.
"You may vant to keep that in mine vhen you eye up the man's sons, chey. Vhat the Vather is, the sons vill be," she'd remarked drily; the one person who could make Connie go beet red from mortification -all the darker since it was true. Con had spent the entire wedding steadily eyeing up Jerry Wood's grown sons from his first marriage; like they were poorly wrapped Christmas gifts. Admittedly, Wendy had some understanding on that note: dark haired as Elvis, and dashing in their military blues, Peter and Joseph Wood were dreamboats. More than that, they were kind, dancing with both sisters at the reception. While jokingly excusing how Wendy stepped on both their feet.
"Don't worry about it hon, you're a great dancer," Joey had assured her, cutting off her stuttering apology. "You just need to find the right partner."
"One that don't make ya look like half shoe-elf," Pete had added, reaching over from his dance with Connie to ruffle Wendy's hair. "But when ya find him, have him talk to us. Joe and I will have a few things we'll want to make clear, okay?"
She still wrote letters to them, ever since they left for Nam; proud to have the Woods as her cousins.
"Hey, howdy hey big brother," Aunt Jeanie called softly in greeting, before launching her coverall clothed self at Dad, with a momentum that made it ease to picture a little, pigtail haired girl doing the same deed when she was a child. Then also as a teenager, when Dad had returned from the Europe...the only one of Jeanie's three big brothers to returned from Europe. And she buried her face into Dad's shoulder the way Sam and Eric did with Wendy after a bad dream.
"How you've been Frank? With everything?"
"Just fine Jean."
Wendy shuffled, suddenly finding the dirt beneath her feet fascinating. So she didn't so much see as sense the air of disbelief that laced Aunt Jeanie's movement.
"That's good to hear, Frank," Jeanie said, in the calm, pacifying way Wendy would. The way that said the matter was dropped for now, but not forgotten.
Dad huffed, and rolled his eyes just a little sadly, pulling back to lift his sister's chin. "Enough about me, Jean. How have you been? That husband of yours treating you right, or do I need to talk to him?"
Jeanie actually giggled, a happy glow of pink blooming on white cheeks that never seemed to tan. "I'm wonderful Frank. Absolutely wonderful. Life here...it was exactly what I needed."
Then she paused, and carefully ventured a hand across the gasp between them, and took hold of her sibling, grasping him by the arm.
"Maybe...maybe its what you need."
Dad cleared his throat, and suddenly spread his arm to usher his children forward -while at least his daughters, since the twins had run for the tire swing as soon as the door was open, shameless abusing their privilege of being only ten.
"Con, Wen, come here and greet your Aunt."
Connie released a long suffering sigh that Wendy pointedly ignored, a task made easier as a grin of delight spread across Aunt Jeanie's impish face.
"No, really?" she gasped, coming forward to cradle her younger niece's face in her hands. "Oh Wendy, just look at you."
Wendy blushed, and offered a shy grin. "Hi."
Jeanie laughed out right and pulled her closer, swinging left and right like a child with her teddy bear, before dropping a kiss to Wendy's head. "Frank! You didn't tell me how much she's grown! Two years, and you have a young lady on your hands!"
Dad laughed a little awkwardly, running a hand along the back of his neck. "Wendy been my hands, sis. I don't know how I'd of got along without her these past few months."
Jeanie blinked at that, though she was careful to smile. "I see."
Releasing Wendy, the older Allen girl turned to her other niece, who'd smacked her chewing gum, as if daring her Aunt to try and give her the same affection. So she could toss it back like salt over her shoulder. Jeanie didn't take the bait.
"Connie," she greeted, hand on her hip and looking the younger woman over. "My, you've gotten trim."
Con shrugged, and tugged at a curl. She still had her sunglasses on, and after a moment, Jeanie gave up trying to see pass them. Instead, she opened her picket fence and gestured the family to come inside.
"Jerry will be back in an hour or so. When he gets here, we'll take to the best spot in Windrixville for a picnic."
S*S
The best spot in Windrixville ended up being a giant hill crowned with an abandon church, lonesome and sad looking against a the gold lighted sky. The Allen-Wood family clustered in a grove of breech trees, on a table that bent and strained under their weight. Admittedly, it hadn't looked like much when Uncle Jerry had driven them there, piled in his old pick up truck, but in the changing light, there was something eternal about the spot, and the wide tumble of the sky above.
Plus at the moment, Uncle Jerry was Wendy's favorite person in the world, by reason of him being willing to help the twins with their history homework, so Wendy wasn't going to be questioning anything he said for the time being.
"Okay boys, hear we go," the hefty man announced as mozied over to a sizable rock under the shade of a tree, reminding Wendy of her icon of a round belly Asian figure Joey had sent her from some shop in Saigon. The resemblance was uncanny, right down to the mild, enlighten look of an educator that came over Jerry's face as the boys sat crisscross before him, history books ready.
"Which work is ol' Tom Jefferson remembered for?"
Both boys thought about it for a moment, then Eric lifted his hand. "The Emancipation Pro-co-mation?"
Jerry blinked. Wendy winced. Connie snorted. Dad and Aunt Jeanie were busy talking among themselves and didn't hear.
"Well...no," Jerry said slowly after a moment. "It's the Declaration of Independence boys."
"Oh..." both twins echoed, before dropping their heads and scribbling their answer. Meanwhile Jerry collected himself.
"Alright...can either of you tell me what helped lead up to the War Between the States?"
Sam brightened, and sat up. "Sure! It was when Indians didn't want to drink tea anymore-"
"Cause President Lincoln taxed it too much," Eric added. "And the Indians got mad-"
"And throw whole crates filled with the stuff into the Boston harbor!" Sam said excitedly. "That made people in the North really made at them-"
"So the Indians had to head South and the army chased after 'em!" Eric finished proudly.
There was a brief silence over the rest of the family once the boys were done, with identical blank looks claiming the grown-up's faces, like they weren't sure if they should laugh or not. Wendy brought her knees to her chest and tried to be as small as possible.
"The only thing headed South is our intelligence levels," Connie stated, bored.
Jeanie arched a brow at her.
"Really, cause I remember a certain little girl who was convinced FDR was the first president," she remarked. Connie was quiet after that.
Meanwhile, Jerry had cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "Okay, let's take this from the top..."
S*S
'Bout a hour and a Civil War lesson later, Wendy's family was back at the Woods' residence; Jerry, Dad, and Connie lounging on the porch, while the boys were back on the tire swing in the fading light, trying to hang off it at the same time.
"Sam, Eric, come on, be careful-" Wendy started to call out to them, as she and Jeanie came out of the house with plates of sandwiches for the kitchen. But Uncle Jerry waved her off with a chuckle from his rocking chair.
"Ah their fine, honey," he started to say. "A little fall wouldn't do nothing but teach 'em to get right back up."
Wendy still squirmed with disfavor, but held her peace with a "ohh". But it was Jerry's house, and his son's tire swing -so she had to admit he probably a little bit more about raising boys than her. Thankfully, not long had pass before a thoughtful look came over Jerry's face, and he gave a sharp whistle to the twins.
"If the Stars and Bars come up in front, I'll tell 'em a story," he tempted. Those were magic words, and immediately the boys were conjured before them like Indian spirits.
"What kind of story, Uncle Jerry?" Sam asked, flopping down on the step besides Eric, hand on his chin while his brother lay on his stomach.
Jerry clicked his cheek, and folded his large hands over his lap as the music of crickets started up from the lawn and the forest behind them. "Well lets see now...you ever hear how the town of Windrixville was founded?"
The boys shook their head. "No sir."
Jerry hummed, nodded, and his eyes gleamed in the lamp light. "Well, I'll tell you it started way back before the Civil War. There was a family called the Winds up in Bleeding Kansas, headed by a preacher named Jedidiah. He came to the territory young and strong, mighty as a twister. But as the years rolled on, his strength waned, and he put away his dreams of conqueror the world for the Lord, and took a bride name Annie, golden and pretty as a lone sunflower on the prairie. Annie gave Jedidiah four strong boys -two sets of twins-"
"Like us!"
"One boy for each direction of the Wind. Their names were Samuel and Matthew. Then Luke and John. When they were young, there were no closer brothers anywhere. But nothing stays young forever, and when they were grown, the world around them was changin'. The trouble between the States was brewing, and the older boys favored the North, while the younger favored the South. And Lord, it nearly tore that family apart, each wind blowing away from his brothers. Wasn't the first time this happen in a house, though nothing like that had been since for a while."
As he talked, Jerry's hands seem to take a life of their own, the shadows of his fingers dancing on the white rails of his porch and blending past and present with their shapes.
"When war was declared, the older brothers joined the Union, while the younger linked up with the Confederates. And they stayed in it, from beginning to end. And paid the price for it, when their divisions clashed here in Indian territory. Bloody brutal fighting, and even when it was over, the survivors didn't know if they were among the live or the dead. Old Jedidiah Wind came down from Kansas to look for his boys among the battlefield, walking this way and that. He found Matthew and Luke already gone from this life, but didn't give up hope for Samuel and John -his firstborn and his youngest. He keep looking, looking, looking..."
"Did...did he find them?"
"He did...as it turned out, they had found each other after smoke cleared, and limped themselves up to a church on the tallest hill around...you may know it..."
Wendy cocked her head. "That church we were at?"
"The very one. Jedidiah found his remaining boys, and declared that he would stay in this spot to praise God for leaving him two behind, when he had the right to take all four. Samuel and John felt likewise graced, and helped their father start up a town."
Jerry slapped his hands to his lap in a finishing gesture. "And here we are today."
S*S
Eric cocked his head. "Is all that really true?"
Uncle Jerry smile. "Well if it isn't, it ought to be. Don't you think so Sam?"
But Sam didn't answer. From her place next to Aunt Jeanie, Wendy frowned.
"Sam, he asked you a question."
But Sam didn't answer her either, his gaze captured by a car coming at the house from the blacken road. He pointed.
"Whose that?"
For a moment, none of them could response, only watch as the headlights grew brighter and brighter like twin souls, until it was parked right outside the picket fence and the lights went out. And they could clearly see the military insignia on the door.
Somewhere behind her, Wendy heard a glass shatter. Whipping her head around, she took in the sight of Aunt Jeanie staring, white as a sheet, as the door to the car open, and a uniformed man stepped out. And the local priest along with him.
"Jerry-" Jeanie choked out, like some of the broken glass was lodge inside her throat, ripping up her lungs. Her husband didn't seem to hear her; to lost in the shock as he stared at the men walking up to his house, pass his sons' now empty tire swing like it wasn't there. But he got up all the same, moving slowing down the steps and across the yard to meet them, Dad at his side.
Wendy felt a small hand tug at her skirt.
"What's happening?" Eric whispered, unsure, but frightened enough to reach for her instead of Sam.
"I don't know," she responded instinctively, reach down to run her fingers through his hair. Together, they watched as the four men meet in the middle. Minus the guns, it could've been a John Wayne film, the way they all stood facing each other.
"Hello, Jerry," the priest greeted, in a soft tone, and nod of his head. One Jerry returned.
"Hank."
Nothing more was said out loud in the next few moments, but something unspoken was defiantly said. Cause even from the back, those on porch bore witness as Jerry Wood crumpled like a burning building.
"Which one?" he asked, his voice drowned in accepted reality, accepted despair.
Father Hank swallowed hard, and wetted his lips. Then he reached out, and clasped the other man by the shoulder.
"...it's both of them. I'm so sorry, Jer."
Reviews make me happy, so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner.
Okay I hope you all enjoyed this -as well as Sam and Eric's mad lib history and geo homework. As well as the deeper backstories on Wendy's other family members. Plus, if you haven't just, Uncle Jerry is the man at the church who was to fat to get inside and help Pony and Johnny.