The Rockin’ Chair excerpt
Grabbing the dented copper kettle off the stove, she turned to the sink and let the water flow like one of the fresh mountain springs that ran out in the backyard. She lit all four burners, placed the kettle back on the stove and began humming a childish tune. The last embers in the wood stove made her nostrils flare at the distinct scent of burnt oak. Smells like the remnants of a late night’s chill, she thought, one of my chores to remove. But she couldn’t recall bringing in the wood, or lighting a fire. Shrugging it off, she snugged down on the robe’s cotton belt, folded her arms across her chest and continued to hum.
She wandered toward the kitchen window and, though she could not have fought it off, nor even detected it, her mind was suddenly exposed to a different reality. Like a child discovering a new world through ancient eyes, she peered out the window and her jaw went slack.
A stranger was busy at work and the sight of him made
’s mouth go dry. Her
heart began to race and her breathing became shallow. Yet, though the man’s
presence absolutely terrified her, his every movement was hypnotizing.
Trembling, she stood paralyzed and watched. Alice
He was a large fellow, maybe six feet or better, with shoulders as broad as his smile. In his fists, he held cracked corn, scattering it in a pattern so that every chicken had its fair chance. He was an old-timer, his face wrinkled and weathered like his callused hands. In the middle of that chiseled face sat the biggest nose. Curiously—as if she’d thought it a million times before—she decided that it showed great character. For a cruel second, he turned toward the window, making her squirm with anxiety. She relaxed, though, when she was sure that his liquid blue eyes had not found her. He returned to working slow, his every move filled with purpose and kindness.
But that moment of peace only lasted one single sigh of relief. As if caught in an inescapable nightmare, she watched the man’s three-legged dog limp straight to the window, glance up and tilt his head—cynically. Though she could not manage the words from her constricted throat, her eyes begged for the animal’s silence. Please don’t, she pleaded in her mind. Please…please…please… But it was not to be. The crippled mutt barked out his wailing alarm, calling his master’s attention to her. In an instant, she felt her knees buckle, as the room spun slowly—in a cruel sort of way. She tried desperately to hold on, but the last thing she saw was a red cap and green overcoat rushing for the house.
“Oh God...no!” she screamed, but the stranger kept coming. He’s comin’ to get me, she feared, and though her mind pleaded for her legs to flee, they would not budge. She collapsed to the cold linoleum floor and awaited the worse.
With no more than a stern look, Three Speed lay down on the porch, the storm door slamming in his silver-haired face. John raced through the parlor and could hear the teakettle screaming for help. Breaking the kitchen threshold, his worried eyes caught
lying near the
bottom cupboard. Her frail body was rolled up in the fetal position and her
thumb was stuck in her mouth. As if he were approaching a wounded bird, he
slowly kneeled down beside her and held out his hand. She swayed back and
forth, humming louder with each movement. For what seemed a lifetime, she
avoided his stare. And then finally, courageously, she glanced into his eyes.
For a moment, she looked as if she was going to accept his hand but, in the
last glimmer of such a hope, she pulled back, retreating deeper into her
tortured mind. Alice
“It’s me, darlin’,” John whispered. “It’s John…your husband.”
“You do look some familiar,” she mumbled. But still, her eyes betrayed her lack of trust.
Again, he whispered, “Come on,
I’m not gonna hurt ya. You’re just sick, ol’ girl.” He opened his hand even
wider and watched as her horrified eyes gradually registered his words as
Like an abandoned child who had lost all hope only to find that her parents had not meant to leave her behind,
raised her arms and began to weep
mournfully. “I’m sorry…” she whimpered. Alice
In one easy motion, John scooped his tiny wife into his arms and kissed her frightened face. Turning off all four burners—the majority that did nothing but lick at air—he carried
like an infant to their bedroom. All the way, he could taste the salt of her
tears on his tongue. It was a bitter taste and he hated it, yet he knew
all-too-well that it was only a small taste of what was still to come. Alice
On the way up the stairs,
sobbed, “I’m so stupid now…so dumb.” Alice
“You shoosh now,” John whispered. “That just ain’t true.”
He placed her back into their four-poster bed and, conforming to their daily ritual, gave her the two white pills and a small glass of water to wash them down. He talked slow and gentle to her, trying to remove her fears and keep her mind in the present. “Time to rest,
,” he whispered. “You just need to get
some rest, is all.” Alice
For a moment, she smiled—as if she believed him. But in the next moment, her eyes filled with panic and she pushed herself toward the headboard, scrambling desperately to create a safe distance between them. “Don’t you touch me, mister!” she screamed. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on me!”
She’s getting’ worse, he thought, and began humming a lullaby.
“Mama! Mama…help me!” she screamed out, but as she called out in a panic for her mother the pills began to take effect. He stroked her hair until her mind eventually removed itself from the harsh reality of now and found a more pleasant place to dwell. When John was sure that
would need nothing more, he kissed her
and returned the cap back onto his throbbing head. Alice