AN: This is based on both the book and the movie. Thanks so much to my
beta, Fiona!
Disclaimer: I own neither the movie nor the book, only the plot of this fic.
" Homeward Bound in Time"
As Mae and Angus Tuck were pulling out of Treegap for their final time, Mae extracted from her breast pocket a bundle of news clippings tied together with a fragment of worn yarn. Thumbing through, there were articles on witchcraft at the old farm, an obituary for Miles' wife, Agnes, and an article about the sudden influenza attack with Anna's name mentioned briefly in the column of fatalities. There was a missing ad for Beau, just after his eighth birthday. Even deeper in the stack was a small notice over half a century old about a man that wore a mustard colored jacket, a jail escape, the disappearance of a young girl, and her return.
"There, there, Mae. No need to blubber so," Tuck consoled as his own eyes watered.
Mae looked up, "Course, I'm fine." She patted her husband's hand. He smiled in return, turned his attention back to his driving, and cracked the whip in hopes to speed the old horse up for a faster retreat from the dreadful town.
There was a creaking sound from the bottom of the carriage, and a moment later, the back right wagon wheel cracked.
Tuck groaned, hopping over the side to inspect it. "Aw, shit!"
"-Tuck!"
"Bothersome, that is. We'll have to pause a while." Mae showed no sign of moving. "Well, hop on out of there, woman," he joked. "Hand me the spare wagon wheel in back, will ya?"
Mae set her hands to the task and was straining to lift the wheel from an awkward position when a small voice from the fence asked, "Need help?"
The child looked, from first glance, about seven or eight, but after a minute or so, he began to look weary, almost as if he had suffered hardships and endured long years that did not belong to him. His hair was a light brown with eyes to match them, but the thing that caught the eyes of Mae Tuck was how much he reminded her of someone. She could not exactly place her finger on whom, yet that face was too familiar and uncanny. She had seen it before; Mae was sure of it.
When both Tucks just stared at him, the boy added in a hurt tone, "I'm good at carpentry. My pa teached me."
Finally Tuck found his voice. "Do we know you?"
"I reckon maybe. I knows many people." His eyes had gained a slight sparkle at receiving a reply. He climbed nimbly over the fence, using the posts for support. As he came forward, he revealed a great amount of tools from his weighted down pockets, bent down, and mended the wheel in the blink of an eye.
"Supper time!" A young woman called to the child from a house somewhere within the vicinity. "Hurry up or your meal will chill!"
The young adolescent's head shot up. "I gotta go. You wanna come? Auntie always makes extra." He licked his lips innocently to add to the effect.
Mae and Tuck glanced at each other, and reached a mutual agreement. "We'd be honored," Tuck told the boy, who positively glowed with delight.
"I live across the lake. It's mighty pretty over there," he recited to his guests as he rowed them across the lake. Then as the canoe bumped against the opposite bank and stuck, he hollered at the top of his lungs, "I brung visitors!"
"Brought!" came the automatic reply from the cabin. "How many times have I told you that, Beau? We need to correct that grammar your pa taught you; it's all wrong." A young woman stepped out of the house to greet the arrivals, wiping her hands on her apron, but found herself frozen on the doorway, in front of motionless guests.
The boy said, "These are my new friends, Auntie Winnie."
* * *
Winnie had been walking through the woods to the spring, for today was to be the day she would drink. But there was already a young boy there. He was kneeling by the water, scooping it into his small hands, slurping noisily.
"Stop it!" she had cried, rushing forward and seizing the scruff of the boy's shirt. "You can't drink that."
"I already have," was the boy's smart-ass retort, as he squinted at her.
She stared at the child, dumbstruck. Her mouth hung open slightly.
There was an awkward pause, and in that silence, the child said, "My pa gave some to me years ago. He told me to find him again after I drunk it." When Winnie seemed unaffected by the statement, he added, "My grandpa carved that 'T' on that there tree."
Slowly, a reply forced itself from Winnie's mouth. "You're a Tuck?!" she asked incredulously, finding her tongue.
"Uh-huh."
She made forward to the tree again to drink herself, but the youngster stuck his foot in her path. "I can't let you do that." He began to trace his foot back and forth in the dust as Winnie gazed.
To his horrified eyes, she bent down to sip the clear, frigid liquid. Squaring her shoulders, she stood back up and dried her wet hands on her dress. "Why?"
And with wide eyes he answered, "Because you don't its secret."
That had been their first meeting, and after that, Winifred Foster was never seen in Treegap again. Years later, a man had arrived, requesting a tombstone be placed in her hometown's graveyard, claiming to have been her husband and father of their four children. But it was a lie. Winnie had paid him to do this, while she lived on with Beau on the outskirts of a neighboring town, until it was safe to return, until the Tucks returned.
Now, as she finished her story, Winnie hugged her beloved Tucks once more.
Mae smoothed Winnie's face. "I would send for the boys right away, but I gots a feeling they's climbing the Eiffel Tower again."
Thanks for reading! ---Aerial
Disclaimer: I own neither the movie nor the book, only the plot of this fic.
" Homeward Bound in Time"
As Mae and Angus Tuck were pulling out of Treegap for their final time, Mae extracted from her breast pocket a bundle of news clippings tied together with a fragment of worn yarn. Thumbing through, there were articles on witchcraft at the old farm, an obituary for Miles' wife, Agnes, and an article about the sudden influenza attack with Anna's name mentioned briefly in the column of fatalities. There was a missing ad for Beau, just after his eighth birthday. Even deeper in the stack was a small notice over half a century old about a man that wore a mustard colored jacket, a jail escape, the disappearance of a young girl, and her return.
"There, there, Mae. No need to blubber so," Tuck consoled as his own eyes watered.
Mae looked up, "Course, I'm fine." She patted her husband's hand. He smiled in return, turned his attention back to his driving, and cracked the whip in hopes to speed the old horse up for a faster retreat from the dreadful town.
There was a creaking sound from the bottom of the carriage, and a moment later, the back right wagon wheel cracked.
Tuck groaned, hopping over the side to inspect it. "Aw, shit!"
"-Tuck!"
"Bothersome, that is. We'll have to pause a while." Mae showed no sign of moving. "Well, hop on out of there, woman," he joked. "Hand me the spare wagon wheel in back, will ya?"
Mae set her hands to the task and was straining to lift the wheel from an awkward position when a small voice from the fence asked, "Need help?"
The child looked, from first glance, about seven or eight, but after a minute or so, he began to look weary, almost as if he had suffered hardships and endured long years that did not belong to him. His hair was a light brown with eyes to match them, but the thing that caught the eyes of Mae Tuck was how much he reminded her of someone. She could not exactly place her finger on whom, yet that face was too familiar and uncanny. She had seen it before; Mae was sure of it.
When both Tucks just stared at him, the boy added in a hurt tone, "I'm good at carpentry. My pa teached me."
Finally Tuck found his voice. "Do we know you?"
"I reckon maybe. I knows many people." His eyes had gained a slight sparkle at receiving a reply. He climbed nimbly over the fence, using the posts for support. As he came forward, he revealed a great amount of tools from his weighted down pockets, bent down, and mended the wheel in the blink of an eye.
"Supper time!" A young woman called to the child from a house somewhere within the vicinity. "Hurry up or your meal will chill!"
The young adolescent's head shot up. "I gotta go. You wanna come? Auntie always makes extra." He licked his lips innocently to add to the effect.
Mae and Tuck glanced at each other, and reached a mutual agreement. "We'd be honored," Tuck told the boy, who positively glowed with delight.
"I live across the lake. It's mighty pretty over there," he recited to his guests as he rowed them across the lake. Then as the canoe bumped against the opposite bank and stuck, he hollered at the top of his lungs, "I brung visitors!"
"Brought!" came the automatic reply from the cabin. "How many times have I told you that, Beau? We need to correct that grammar your pa taught you; it's all wrong." A young woman stepped out of the house to greet the arrivals, wiping her hands on her apron, but found herself frozen on the doorway, in front of motionless guests.
The boy said, "These are my new friends, Auntie Winnie."
* * *
Winnie had been walking through the woods to the spring, for today was to be the day she would drink. But there was already a young boy there. He was kneeling by the water, scooping it into his small hands, slurping noisily.
"Stop it!" she had cried, rushing forward and seizing the scruff of the boy's shirt. "You can't drink that."
"I already have," was the boy's smart-ass retort, as he squinted at her.
She stared at the child, dumbstruck. Her mouth hung open slightly.
There was an awkward pause, and in that silence, the child said, "My pa gave some to me years ago. He told me to find him again after I drunk it." When Winnie seemed unaffected by the statement, he added, "My grandpa carved that 'T' on that there tree."
Slowly, a reply forced itself from Winnie's mouth. "You're a Tuck?!" she asked incredulously, finding her tongue.
"Uh-huh."
She made forward to the tree again to drink herself, but the youngster stuck his foot in her path. "I can't let you do that." He began to trace his foot back and forth in the dust as Winnie gazed.
To his horrified eyes, she bent down to sip the clear, frigid liquid. Squaring her shoulders, she stood back up and dried her wet hands on her dress. "Why?"
And with wide eyes he answered, "Because you don't its secret."
That had been their first meeting, and after that, Winifred Foster was never seen in Treegap again. Years later, a man had arrived, requesting a tombstone be placed in her hometown's graveyard, claiming to have been her husband and father of their four children. But it was a lie. Winnie had paid him to do this, while she lived on with Beau on the outskirts of a neighboring town, until it was safe to return, until the Tucks returned.
Now, as she finished her story, Winnie hugged her beloved Tucks once more.
Mae smoothed Winnie's face. "I would send for the boys right away, but I gots a feeling they's climbing the Eiffel Tower again."
Thanks for reading! ---Aerial