Road Trip - A Look before the Leap
The author thanks Bellasarius Productions, Universal Studios and any other creative entities responsible for Quantum Leap.
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Day Eight - Going HomeThe sun was bright and the roads mostly cleared off. Sam wanted to get off the campgrounds. He made the rounds and everyone said okay. Half an hour later, Sam, Thelma, Katie and Al were in the car making their way to Elk Ridge to see the farm. It was about an hour drive. Yesterday's snow was gone from the roads, but the white frosting on the winter fields made the scenery postcard perfect.
Sam anxiously asked Thelma, "Mom, when was the last time you saw the house?"
"It's been years, Sam. I don't want you to get your hopes up, son. Last I heard the place was up for sale again."
"I know, Mom. I just want to see it again. Maybe we could visit the high school. I'd love to see my old teachers." Sam turned off the main highway onto another side road. "I can't wait."
Al looked out at the fields, even though covered in snow, to his unpracticed eye appeared neglected. The fences were in bad shape as though no one cared for years. His instincts, which he thought were pretty good, were telling him that the house wasn't going to be in any condition for Sam to find pleasant memories. "The farm looks deserted, Sam. Why don't we just go to the high school? We can play Noble Prize winner and Astronaut."
"We're almost at the house." He made a left turn and in the distance the old farmhouse stood against the bright blue sky. Sam stopped the car out by the road since the drive to the house hadn't been plowed. Made sense that it hadn't. No one lived here now.
Thelma looked at her home, the building where she raised three children, lived with the love of her life, and watched disappear like so many other family farms. The snow was deep and she found her excuse. "I don't want to walk in all that snow, Sam. I'll wait in the car."
No one considered the snow would make things hard. Katie offered to stay behind with her mom, but Thelma wouldn't have it. So, Sam and Katie walked in front of Al, stamping down a path so that the still healing Admiral wouldn't have to work too hard to make the 100 yards to the door.
The closer the brother and sister got to the house, the more melancholy they became. The house was not only deserted, but it was abandoned and falling apart. Most of the windows were either broken out or cracked. The paint was cracked and peeling off, something their father would have never allowed. The abandoned house wasn't scary. It was simply sad.
This trip was supposed to make her feel at home, but it just didn't. "Sam, it's terrible. This just can't be our house."
The surviving son climbed the steps to the front door and pulled the handle. Thankfully, it was locked and the desolation of the interior would remain unseen. He returned to Katie's and Al's sides and pointed to a second story window near the corner of the house. "That was my room until I went to college. Katie was over there," he pointed to the other end, "After Tom left for the Navy."
"I moved back to my old room after Tommy died. I couldn't stay there." She put her hand on the stair railing. "Oh Sam, this may not have been a good idea." The pain of Tom's death, her leaving this blissful place for a life of hell with Chuck, her father's death, all of those were preying on her. She thought it would be fun to see it, but the deserted house was too symbolic of how things in her life had soured. "I'm going back to the car."
Al saw the pain in these kind hearts. Their home was gone. The link to their flawless childhood was desecrated. Houses never really mattered to him except for one and strangers occupied that when he got home from hell. He long ago decided there was too much fuss made over places. As Katie trudged back up the path they made Al asked, "Sam, you want to go?"
"Not yet. I want to see the barn." He looked back at the Admiral. "You want to go back to the car? I'll meet you there in a few minutes."
"I'll go with you. Never saw a barn close-up. We didn't have many in Manhattan."
Sam appreciated the opportunity to smile. "Come on, city boy. Let me show you where real Americans worked."
Again, Sam walked first plowing his way through the snow so that Al had an easy hike. The barn door was opened partially, enough for both men to easily enter. The inside was lit by sunlight coming in through a few holes in the roof and broken shutters all around. "The hours I spent in here, Al, I can't even begin to count them. I used to hate it." His hand found an old rake. "I should have been here. I could have helped Dad with the place."
"Did he want you to be here?"
John Beckett wanted all his children to get a college education and be free to choose a life they wanted. He was well aware that his youngest son was destined for something other than dairy farming. "Dad wanted me to go to school, but this," he pointed to the shell around him, "This is just not how it should be."
Looking at the vestige of the past, Al started thinking out loud. "Maybe it is, Sam. You weren't going to be a dairy farmer. Everyone here knew that."
"There's nothing wrong about being a dairy farmer."
"I didn't say there was. It's a good life, a hard one too. It makes for raising good kids. But when your dad died, what were his wishes about the place?"
The will asked that the farm be sold with all assets going to Thelma. Then Thelma was to give each surviving child $5,000 to use for their education. "That money came in handy. I got to go to Egypt on a dig with that money."
"Your father knew full well you weren't a farmer, Sam. His choice for you was to make history with your science. You're doing that."
"But if I were home, maybe he wouldn't have died. Maybe I could have been there and kept him alive until he got to the hospital."
"And if I had taken off fifteen seconds later, that missile wouldn't have hit my plane. The 'what if' game is a bad one to play. Makes you second-guess your life too much."
Sam's tears weren't easy to hide. "He died in here, Al. No one knew he had the heart attack. He lay on the floor here dying and no one was here to help him. He didn't deserve to die alone like that. I should have been here. I could have kept him alive."
Al understood what it was like to lose a beloved parent and, like Sam, he wasn't there when his father died. The adults in his world didn't even think it appropriate for him to attend the wake and funeral. His father was just gone. "You told me he had a massive coronary, right?" Sam nodded. "How far away is the nearest hospital that could help him?"
"In Ft. Wayne, just over an hour away."
"If you were here right at the second he got sick and you put him in the car and got to Ft. Wayne in record time, would he have survived?"
Sam walked farther away looking away from Al. "I've told myself that for years, Al, but if I had been here, he might not have been stressed to the point where he had the attack at all. Maybe I would have seen symptoms and gotten him to the doctor. He might still be alive."
Al moved to stand right behind Sam and spoke softly. "All of that might have been possible, but thinking like that is only a game. There's no way to know what would have happened, but there are a few things you can be sure of. Your father loved you. He understood how special you are and knew you would never be a dairy farmer. And I'm projecting here, but from what I've heard about the guy, he doesn't want you mucking up his memory with all this 'if only' crap. Never met the man, but I think he must have been one terrific guy. I can see that in a lot of ways." He faced Sam, looking up into the sad face. "I met your mom. She's one hell of a woman. She wouldn't have settled for an ordinary guy. Your dad had to be something else. Then there's Katie. That one has a wild streak that wants to know more and more and I think your dad had a big part in that too. Then I look at you." He paused before letting his friend hear, "If I were half the man you are, I'd be a hell of a lot happier. You are your father. You just make a living in a different way." Al walked around the barn. "This place was special at one time, but it's not the walls that made it special. It's the love you felt here that makes it important. Chances are you still feel all that love, right?" The scientist agreed. "Right. Take that with you and you'll always have this home."
Sam's tears ran without a sound coming from him. "I miss him, Al."
"I know, kid. I know." The older man had no idea if he was doing it right, but he put his arms around the Noble Prize winning physicist who at the moment looked like a child of ten. "I know." It seemed to be working.
Sam accepted the embrace, feeling like his father was reaching out one last time, using the Admiral to hold him in this place where he spent so much time. For a flash of a second, his father's arms comforted him and then that image was gone. Here was another older man willing to let him feel child-like and still respect his skills and achievements. John Beckett left his son in good hands. Finally he pulled away from Al. "Sorry."
"For what?" He started toward the door. "It's getting cold. You want a minute to say good-bye?"
Sam surveyed the barn. "I don't think so. There's nothing here to say good-bye to."
The two men walked back to the car. Conversation was minimal, each deep into his own recollections. Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to come. Then again, maybe it was.
The drive home was a bit subdued. No one really wanted to talk about how horrible seeing the old place was, but hearts sagged inside them all including Al. He understood the desolation of dreams that exploded.
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Their dinner conversation revolved around nothing of importance. It was the requisite quiet after days filled with storms and everyone seemed to need to have the paced slowed down a bit. Dave and the boys drove into town for a youth meeting at church leaving Sam and Al at home with the ladies. They made their way into the living room with Sam carrying a tray with mugs and a carafe of coffee. Katie followed behind with a brand new apple pie just out of the oven about half an hour.
The coffee and pie got passed around and no one knew exactly what to talk about. Deb asked about the farm and four sets of shoulders wilted. Thelma spoke up, "Well, I didn't get out of the car. There was so much snow."
Sam slipped some pie into his mouth and mumbled, "It looks terrible. I wish I had the money to buy it and get it up and running again."
Thelma reacted strongly. "Samuel John Beckett, don't you dare think about buying back that farm. Places like ours are outdated now. The conglomerates would just eat you up."
"Your mother is right, Sam." Al had to agree. "Small farms like yours just don't cut it any more. It's a shame. There is something compelling about country life. Even with the snow storms, there's a gentleness out here that is really appealing." He sipped at his coffee and smiled a little. "And I never thought I'd hear words like that coming from my mouth. I am a city boy."
No one looked up. They all found fascination in the coffee mugs and their own thoughts, but the quiet was disquieting. Each wanted to break the silence, but no one could come up with a reason. Al's eyes closed and his face twisted with a short pain. Deb noticed the movement and asked, "Your head hurting?"
Sam sat bolt straight and anxious, almost grateful for something else to think about. "What's wrong, Al?"
They were overreacting. Of course, he hurt. It had only been five days and the jerk did a number on him. "It's nothing. Things still ache a bit. Chuckie's a big guy. Me - not so much."
The scientist turned into a doctor. "Let's get you back into bed."
"Sam, it's only seven thirty. I'm fine. Please relax."
The worried friend sat back in the chair. "Sorry. This was supposed to be a vacation for you. Didn't end up one."
"Not sure you're having the vacation of your dreams either."
Sam stared into Al's eyes. "Are you kidding? My sister is safe from that maniac. I couldn't ask for anything better to happen except maybe that it didn't take you getting hurt to do it."
Thelma started crying and this time, Al put his arm around her shoulders. "Hey, what's this for? Everyone is fine. You should be smiling and happy."
"It's been a very confusing few days. Our world is turning upside down and it just hurts to see it falling apart."
He smiled at her, "But it's not falling apart. It's just changing. To quote an old professor of mine, 'Change is an inevitable constant.' If things didn't change, then there'd be no reason to be alive." Her tears tapered off. "Seems to me that there are going to be some really great changes happening pretty soon."
"I'm not much for change, especially great changes. I'm a creature of habit, Al." Tears still slipped down her face. "I don't know. Maybe seeing the farm wasn't such a good idea. I knew it was going to be deserted, but it looked so broken
The Admiral kept his arm around the tender woman. "You know, I never really got attached to places. Never had one worth getting attached to. Your home with John and your kids is still magnificent." His free hand pointed across the room at two of the three remaining Beckett children. "There's the proof. They're the legacy. The farm isn't."
Deb smiled and had to agree. "And now that legacy includes the Italian branch of the family. Somehow, I know God meant for you to meet Sam and become a member of our family. That kind of a gift is planned well in advance."
Throwing his head back, he had to laugh. "Yeah, that's me - a gift from God." Pulling his arm back, he reached for his apple pie.
Sam got antsy. "Okay, enough with this stuff. We're all wonderful. We're all gifts from God." Grabbing for his pie, he asked Katie, "Got more ice cream?"
Katie took the plate from Sam. "I'll get it for you." Taking the half empty dish, she left the room looking as dejected as her brother and mother.
The mood had to flip soon. They all knew it. The television sat in the corner. Precariously stacked nearby stood half a dozen video tapes. Thelma was the first to suggest, "Let's watch a movie. What do you have there, Deb?"
"Oh, it's mostly films the boys like." She walked to the pile and began reading off titles. "Let's see we have Children of the Corn, but that's scary and I don't like scary movies. Here we have This is Spinal Tap." She pulled one out and held it to her chest with both hands. "This one is mine - An Officer and a Gentleman."
Thelma smiled at Al, "Oh, we have our own right here."
Scoffing at the comment, Al said, "An officer yes, but there are those who would debate the 'gentleman' part." He looked over at Sam hoping his young friend would rise to the bait and start to lose his dark mantle.
Sam wasn't listening. His father's death and Katie's situation with Chuck beat him down. How could he be so smart and so stupid at the same time? It had to be selfishness. He was the center of the universe, at least he'd been told that in a variety of ways from all sorts of people for too many years. His need to be the center of attention was the reason everything went wrong in his family. At least it felt like his existence was the be all and end all of everyone else's existence. The conceit behind that thought shamed him and if he voiced those feelings, no one would think it was so. He let out a sigh. It was too confusing for a man whose education skipped over psychology as if it was the black plague of the university system.
Deb continued to call out titles. When she got to Raiders of the Lost Ark, Al stopped her, "That's it! Raiders! I tried to get Dr. Dr. Dr. Dr. . . ." he counted on his fingers and continued, "Dr. Dr. Beckett over there to go see it, but he wouldn't. It's a great movie, Sam."
Offhandedly he muttered, "Al, the science is incredibly faulty."
"It's a fantasy film. Who cares? I mean, do you think Dorothy Gale really took the afternoon tornado to Oz? It's all make believe and this one is good."
Thelma saw that her son was deeply disturbed. She went to him and took his face in her hands. "You have to know that you are not responsible for the farm being sold, your father's death, or for Chuck."
"I could have done something, Mom. I was too wrapped up in myself to see that everybody needed me." His eyes stared up at the ceiling. "I wasn't there for any of you. Dad didn't raise me to neglect the family."
Al hated seeing his friend in torment, but his best thing wasn't comforting others. He tried though, "Listen, kid, I know there's no way in hell you can neglect anyone, least of all your family. You did what you had to do for yourself and that's what your family wanted."
"Wants are different from needs. They needed me here, but I wanted to be somewhere else. Anyway you look at it, I was selfish."
Al's eyes rolled - they rolled often - "Alright, so you're selfish. I don't think so, but if you want to, then okay. You're selfish. You could be the most selfish man in the history of the universe, you still couldn't stop what happened to the small farm like your father's. And I hate to tell you, even you can't stop death. It's going to happen."
Sam's head sagged, his chin to his chest. "I know what you're telling me is true, but it's going to take awhile for me to believe it."
Katie came back in with Sam's pie. "Double scoops this time, bro. You're going to get fat."
He took the plate and decided it was time to shake the blues. His tongue poked out and his face skewed like a four-year-old ratting on his big sister. Then he smiled, "Good thing we don't live near each other any more. I'd eat pie every day," his finger poked the air toward his sister, "and it would all be your fault."
Nothing was settled, but the mood lightened a little, artificially, like the flicking of fluorescent light in a cheap office building, but, as long as hot popcorn was promised, it was enough to make Sam willing to sit through the bad science in Raiders of the Lost Ark.
So, while huge boulders rolled down long caves toward Harrison Ford, Sam became lost in his own thoughts of what might have been. His heart was about to shatter when he looked over at some kind of disturbance going on around Al. Deb and Katie started whiffing popcorn at the admiral and the military strategist started the counter attack. The only thing Sam could do was laugh. Al could always make him laugh. The situation demanded action so the brooding scientist joined the assault. He flipped a few kernels at his buddy and the war was in full swing.
With the movie over and shell casings of popcorn covering the floor, it was decided that time came to get some rest. Al tapped his stomach with both hands. "I am eating like I won't have a chance to chow down for another month. You are really great cooks."
Sam took the opportunity to heave one last bit of popcorn at the admiral. "You're a pretty good cook yourself." An Indiana twang got exaggerated to the extreme when he said, "Seems to me that you orter do some of that fancy eye-talien cookin' yer so fonda. Show these women folks how a real man makes that macaroni stuff yer eatin' all the tahme."
Al looked at Katie, "You know, your brother has no class. Last month, he called me up because they were building a new Wendy's near his apartment. Now he can get real baked potatoes any time he wants one."
Thelma's eyes widened. "A baked potato? Did I ignore your education to the point where you can't bake a potato? You're a grown man and you can't bake a potato?"
Sam turned nine-years-old. "Mom, I can bake a potato, but if I don't have to then why bother?"
The matriarch of the Beckett clan put the back of her hand to her forehead. "I'm a terrible mother. My poor baby boy doesn't know how to bake a potato."
The conversation needed to move in a different direction. There were only so many colors of red Sam could turn into. "Okay, okay, but Mom, can you make fresh pasta with meatballs and Bolognese sauce? Al is a wizard in the kitchen."
The admiral grinned. "Now, the man finally speaks the truth about me. I may not have a huge repertoire, but I do make a mean Bolognese. In fact, I bet you have everything I need to make dinner for everyone tomorrow. It's my turn. I'll make some fresh fettuccine with meatballs a nice Caesar salad and zabaglione for dessert."
Deb stared at him. "You really do know how to cook."
"What self-respecting man can't handle himself in a kitchen?" All the women looked at Sam. "I said self-respecting."
"Ha ha. You can spend tomorrow teaching the ladies to cook Italian and I'll spend the day with the boys teaching them manly things."
"Like Broadway show tunes." Al took Deb's hand. "Come on, show me what we have to work with here and tomorrow we will have a Calavicci Italian dinner."
Al, Deb and Katie exited the living room. Sam sat next to his mom on the couch. "You okay?"
"Of course, I am. It's been a hard week, though."
"Very. Al and I weren't even supposed to be here. Actually, if I think about it, and trust me, I do, I don't even know how we became friends. We're nothing alike."
"Only on the surface. God knew what he was doing. He saw these two souls bouncing around and He put them in the palm of his hand and said, 'Okay, now say hello.' From that moment, the two of you became brothers."
Sam had to laugh, "You know, the first time I met Al he was punching out a vending machine. I had to drag him to the infirmary in order to stitch up his hand."
She looked into her son's beautiful eyes. "Honey, I'm going to tell you something here. You may think you did Al a great favor that day by stitching him up, but he did you the favor."
More psychology and Sam just didn't want to deal with it. "Okay, whatever you say, Mom."
"It's true. That man doesn't let people help him, but he let you. He was saying you were special and it had nothing to do with your brain. Your IQ didn't matter a whit."
He wasn't buying it yet. "So that was God's way of nudging us to say hello to each other, right?"
She knew he had to think about it for awhile, so she just said, "Yep and I'm so glad He threw the two of you together. You needed the admiral. I think until you met him, you were homeless and I think he was the same."
An odd feeling pulsed through him. He'd spent the day looking for his home and finding it boarded up and empty of all warmth. Now he was starting to realize that home was not a place. Al was right. His sense of home suddenly internalized. He would always have home.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: All rights to this story are reserved. Neither the whole nor parts (with exception of short excerpts for review purposes) may be published elsewhere without written permission from the author. Thank you.