INDIANA

Odysseus and the Ghosts

(Part 3)

Something had changed for Ben in Indiana. Maybe talking to Adam about Elizabeth, even that little, had helped. He couldn't be sure, but whatever it was, his grief was somehow a little less acute. It frightened him at first and he had stubbornly clung to his sorrow, afraid that this shift was somehow disloyal - the beginning of forgetting her - but despite himself, he was beginning to heal anyway. He wondered now if even Inger, as persistent and patient as she was, would have been able to get through to him if he hadn't already started to change.

They had stayed for over a month in the end, carefully putting aside money. Adam worked hard for Mrs. Kittwell and while Ben still wasn't completely comfortable with it, he had to admit that the money off their board did help. By the time they were getting ready to leave, Ben had made a decision and carefully counted out a share of their savings. He took Adam over to the livery one morning after their tearful separation from Mrs. Kittwell and led him around the back to where the animals were kept.

"What do you think?" he asked him, watching his face.

Adam frowned at the roofed wagon in front of him. "Is it ours?"

"That's right. Oh, I know it's not really a home, but it's a place to keep our things and it has a roof for when the weather is bad. We can even sleep in back sometimes."

Adam ran around back and tried to peek over the gate. "I want to see!" Ben followed and boosted him up so he could clamber inside. "It's big!" Adam crowed.

Ben couldn't help smiling at his pleasure though he secretly thought it would probably get small pretty fast if they had to spend much time in there together. Adam scrambled to the front and disappeared through the opening to the driver's seat.

"Adam - " Ben called warningly as he hurried around to the front just in time to see Adam slide to the ground. "Adam!" he said sharply, then sighed at Adam's look of mild surprise at his tone. Sometimes he wished his boy were just a little less independent.

Adam lost all interest in the wagon at the sight of the horse. He trotted around to its head and lifted his hand up to touch the animal's nose. Ben made a snatch at his other hand and held on firmly, shooting an apprehensive glance at the horse's large feet. Oblivious to his father's agitation, Adam giggled as the horse sniffed curiously at the tiny fingers. "She likes me!"

"He." Ben shook his head ruefully. Oh, well. It would probably take a thunderclap to stir the tired old nag anyway.

"He," Adam corrected himself. "Does he have a name?"

"Why don't you give him one?"

Adam considered, patting gently at the velvety snout. "I think I'll call him 'Grandfather'."

Ben huffed out a laugh before he could stop himself. "I think that's an excellent name. Very dignified." He could hardly wait to write Abel. "Now, let's get started. Up you go."

He lifted Adam onto the wagon seat and Adam squinted up at the sky. "It's high," he observed.

"Yes, it is," agreed Ben dryly. "And it's near the wheels. Which is why I'd like you to wait for me to lift you up and down."

Adam scowled. "I can get up and down by myself."

"Adam."

Adam knew that tone and kicked his heels against the wooden seat restlessly. "Okay," he said at last.

"Good boy." Ben climbed up next to him and gathered up the reins. "Yaw!"

The horse gave a long-suffering snort and started forward.

This horse will never win any races, observed Ben a few hours later as the fresh green countryside rolled by about them. But it was patient and steady and calm around children, and that was more important. And it was certainly a more comfortable mode of travel than they were used to. He sneaked a glance at Adam. He had been quiet so long that he expected to find him asleep, but no, he had his head tilted back, studying the great blue arc of sky overhead. Ben's face softened. What had caught his interest now? Pictures in the clouds, maybe? He felt the familiar twinge. Liz had always been finding pictures in the clouds - had laughed with him about one that looked like an elephant shortly before Adam was born. He lightened his hold on the reins.

"What are you looking at, son?" he asked softly.

Adam kept his eyes fixed overhead. "Mrs. Kittwell said heaven is up in the sky. I thought maybe I could see my mother." He dropped his gaze resignedly to where his boots dangled over the floor, his shoulders drooping a little. "I guess it's too far, though."

Ben's breath caught in his throat, his vision blurring suddenly. Oh, Adam. What can I say?

When he could trust himself to speak he said slowly, "Adam - do you remember what I taught you about perspective? About how sometimes even when things look close they're really far away?" Adam cocked his head at him and nodded thoughtfully. Ben took another deep breath. "Well, sometimes it works the other way, too - sometimes, even though things look far away, they're really much closer than they seem." Adam frowned, concentrating hard on what he was saying. "Because if there is one thing I am absolutely sure of, son, it's that your mother is never far from you - even if you can't see her."

Adam looked back at the sky as though he might catch a glimpse of something he had missed before. He sighed a little. "Do you ever see her, Pa?"

Ben drank in the achingly familiar profile and then turned quickly forward to hide the moisture stinging at his eyes. "Oh, son," he murmured, half to himself. "Oh, son - you have no idea."

Ben awoke with a start and a bump as the boat scraped over a sandbar. He was stiff and chilly and the sky was lightening with the first hint of dawn. He'd slept out here all night. He had to clean up for breakfast. He rubbed a hand over his eyes to clear them and it came away wet - he sat studying the moisture on his fingers for a moment, reflecting on his dream memories, rubbing absently at a strange tightness in the left side of his chest.

Oh, Adam - what was I thinking? It was all very well for me to promise to stay for a long, long time…why didn't I think to make you promise, too?

TBC