Somewhere, My Love

Jonathan Abernathy vigorously massaged his aching knee with one hand as he fished in a pocket for his bottle of laudanum with the other.

“Number 95 to Fort Worth, now arriving on track two.”

Jonathan looked up as the station attendant paced by shouting his message. He heard the train whistle still some distance down the track as he uncorked the small brown bottle with a hand that trembled almost too much to handle the task.

“Only take as directed,” his physician had warned.  Well that was exactly what he was doing -- -- taking as his pain directed. And it directed him to take it often.

“Hi Mister.”  A young boy greeted as he plopped down on the wooden bench.  Jonathan glared at the boy as he raised the quaking bottle to his lips.

The boy’s mother showed up just then.  Thank God for small miracles, Jonathan mused as he replaced the cork.

“Tommy, your father and I have been looking all over for you.”  She pulled him from his perch upon the bench as she eyed Jonathan with a mixture of condemnation and pity.

“Haven’t we told you never to speak to strangers?”

Jonathan raised the small brown bottle in salute to the uppity lady.  Let her think whatever she likes.  She would anyway.  No one ever saw the world past his or her own safely constructed walls.  Few people saw the true ugliness beyond their well-tended gardens, never felt the pain of those around them.

He rubbed his knee and wished the laudanum would work faster. Shouldn’t the pain be less by now?

The train chugged slowly up to the station, the stench of the billowing smoke almost suffocating. He would wait for the activity to settle. The pain was finally easing a bit, but he would prefer not to be jostled about on the crowded walkway and boarding ramp.

He hated this weekly trip home to visit his family. He hated the crowds, he hated the train ride, and he hated seeing his parents’ age, knowing that he too was facing that thing called “old age”.

He could remember a time when he had dreams of traveling the world over in search of ancient treasures, of enlightening the world with some new discovery from a past age. Those dreams were unattainable now.  They were before his accident, and before his parents became old and so in need.

He shifted on the hard bench and thought about taking another drink from his bottle as his hand rose to pat at his pocket. All he could do now was teach. If teach was what you could call it. He snorted in disgust at his own thoughts, his own lost abilities. Rarely did a young person enter his Archeology class with a real interest beyond simple curiosity.

A thick cloud of smoke settle about him and he coughed on the stinking, vile cloud. This must be hell--too many people, black smelly smoke billowing up to sting the eyes and clog the chest. This was what he was condemned to years ago when he was thrown from a horse that then was obliged to tread upon his knee, leaving it crushed, and he a cripple.

Tommy and his mother hurried past. The boy turned and raised his hand to wave enthusiastically as his screeching, little boy voice rose to be heard above the deafening noises of the station.

“Bye, mister. I hope you have a nice trip.”

His mother tugged him irritably as her mouth and features worked to impress upon the child, in the most severe fashion, her disapproval of his actions. Her eyes met Jonathan's only briefly, but the condemnation in them was clear.

Yes, this was hell. Complete with stench, smoke, runny nosed little beggars and uppity self-righteous mothers.

“ALL ABOOOARRD. NOW BOARDING ON TRACK TWO FOR FORT WORTH. ALL ABOOOARRD!”

“This is your train, Mr. Abernathy.”

Jonathan tore his gaze from the retreating backs of the two to look up at this newly arrived tormentor.

“Tha crowd has thinned. Would you allow me to help you board? The train is about to pull out."

Jonathan reached for his cane as he allowed the attendant to offer his support.

“It’s a mighty purdy day, yes suh, a mighty purdy day. I think you will enjoy your ride today, Mr. Abernathy.”

“You say the same thing every week, Ben. I haven’t enjoyed it yet.”

“Well there can always be a first time.”

He glanced over at Ben. He had known Ben for years. He used to like the elderly black man with his big smile and easy helpful way. Now he found him bothersome at best, down right irritating at worst. He patted his breast pocket, taking comfort in the feel of his little brown bottle.

“You know, Mr. Abernathy, I would feel truly blessed if my folks were still alive for me ta visit. Maybe you should just concentrate on the visit at tha end of tha ride. That will make it all worth while.”

“Yes, I’m sure it will.” He started toward the boarding ramp, Ben securely supporting his elbow. “I suppose if nothing else the diversion of the trip will do me some good. Everyone needs a diversion from the hell we dig ourselves into.”

The black man emitted a rich comforting sound in the way of a laugh. “My O’ my, but you do carry on. I would think your life would be very satisfying. Didn’t you tell me once you was a teacher? I think that would be a wonderful job--helping all those young people get prepared for life. You knows, helping others puts meaning in your own life.”

“I don’t know how you can say that, Ben. Look at what you do. All these people that you help everyday. How does that enrich your existence?”

Ben led him to a compartment. “Here you go Mr. Abernathy. A nice seat by the window so you can look out.”

Jonathan lowered himself and then tapped again at his left breast.

“In answer to your question, Mr. Abernathy. Yes. I feel very rich indeed. Why, I helped you to your seat. I gave you a few moments of conversation, and you brought back to my memory a very nice recollection of my father. You know, I had a very nice father, and someday I want my son and grandbaby to have the same recollection ‘bout me. You helped me to remember what is important -- what truly makes a man rich and I thank you for that Mr. Abernathy. Yes, suh, I truly do. Now you just rest back right here and enjoy your little ride today. I’ll be back by if you need anything.”

Jonathan shifted in his seat, trying in vain to get comfortable. Soon the train jerked and lurched into a slow rocking motion. He watched as the countryside slowly moved past his window changing from the wooden station to a field filled with grazing cattle.

A throb settled in his knee and he reached into his pocket for his ever-handy laudanum. He took a swallow and settled back to stare unseeing out the window.

                   *  *  *

As the train slowed Jonathan noticed a sign slowly inch into view from his window.

The bright white sign had the words neatly and boldly printed in black, “Welcome to Cottonwood Springs”. 

“Mr. Abernathy.”

He turned and addressed Ben as the man entered the small compartment. “Why are we stopping here?”

“Oh, just a short delay. We have a problem with the engine. Wont take long to remedy, but there’s time if’n you’d like to get off here and stretch your legs. Several of tha other passengers have decided to go into Cottonwood Springs and have a bite of lunch. I know your knee pains you. Maybe a little walk about will help.”

“Is it lunch time already?”

“Yes, suh.”

“Very well, I am a bit hungry.” He patted his pocket before raising an arm for Ben’s support.

Ben helped him to the nearest exit. “You just wait right there for just a moment while I jump down and place tha steps for you.”

Jonathan watched as Ben placed the steps. “Don’t you have others that require your help, Ben? It seems to me that every time I turn around you’re right there.”

“Oh, yes suh. I help a lot of good folks, but I especially like helping you.”

Jonathan frowned, as he reached out to accept the man’s support. “I can’t see how that could be, Ben. I don’t recall saying anything nice to you in a very long time.”

Ben patted his arm, “Oh, that’s okay, suh. See, we’s friends. Have been for a long time. I knows your leg pains you, and your mind is all troubled. But ya know, friends are always there for each other. Good times as well as bad. You understand ‘bout bein’ there for tha people you care ‘bout. Just like you’re there for your parents.”

“A man would think you enjoy helping others.”

Ben laughed that rich warm laugh of his. “Yes, suh. I truly do.”

Jonathan turned at the sound of laughter. The pristine little town that sat before him amazed him. A few steps down the small rise from the tracks lay a wide red brick road. Across the road was an array of small shops, the windows of each displaying a sample of what could be found inside. Each storefront was clean and neat beyond description. Pedestrians walked slowly, stopping occasionally to peer through a sparkling glass display. The smells from the bakery floated on the breeze and his stomach growled. How long had it been sense he had felt true hunger? He patted his belly instead of his pocket and chuckled happily. It was a wonderful feeling.

“Hello.”

He glanced over at a young woman standing at his side. She’s lovely, he thought. She wasn’t what one would call beautiful, not in the classical sense, but she possessed a warmth that reached right out to you. She tilted her head and her warm, honey colored eyes twinkled.

“Hello.” He answered, feeling a little awkward.

“There are several nice cafes in town,” she raised a basket she held on her arm. “But I just happen to have a picnic lunch all packed, and I always pack extra.” Wavy light-brown hair caressed her cheeks and rested upon her small shoulders.  “Would you like to join me?”

Jonathan glanced at the basket and then back to the beautifully warm eyes. “I thank you for the invitation.” Say more. It hasn’t been that long sense you’ve spoken to a beautiful woman.  A pesky fly landed on his nose and he swatted at it. Oh, God. She’s smiling. Smile back you fool! He felt his lips twitch nervously in the execution of such an unpracticed skill. On God! Oh God! She must think me an idiot.

“My name is Rebecca. What’s yours?”

“Jon--Jonathan.” Oh,God! He nearly groaned.

“Well, Jonathan. Lets walk right over there and spread out this food beneath those cottonwood trees. I'm famished.”

He reached out and took the basket. She didn’t stop him, didn’t look uncomfortably at his cane and then offer to carry it herself. She graciously handed him the basket and thanked him, slipped her arm about his and led him toward a lovely little grove where several tables and chairs sat beneath the trees.

As they reached a table she stopped and looked up at him. “I love this spot. Don’t you?”

“Yes.”

She laughed as she took the basket and sat it on the table. “Everyone knows they can find me among the Cottonwood. I love to watch the soft seeds float upon the breeze. They remind me of dreams.” She watched the seeds, he watched her. “They float this way and that. You wonder why the whole earth is not covered with Cottonwood trees, but they don’t all take root.” She looked up at the branches above her. “Oh, but the ones that do.”

She turned back to the task at hand and opened her basket. “I hope you like fried chicken.”

“It’s my favorite.” Oh, God! Did my voice just crack?

“Mine too.” She indicated a chair, “Please, the chair is very comfortable, even though it doesn’t appear to be.” She waited as he carefully lowered himself.

“Tell me about yourself, Jonathan.” She sat out a plate of fried chicken, a bowl of potato salad, a jar of melon wedges, a small loaf of fresh baked bread, a wedge of cheese and two small jars of milk.

Jonathan watched the endless supply of food being withdrawn from the basket and wondered that he had just carried that for several feet and had not noticed its weight. Milk. Imagine that. He was the only person he knew that liked milk with his meals. That is before he started taking the laudanum. Laudanum and milk didn’t mix very well. He patted at his pocket. Still there.

Rebecca handed him a plate. “You were going to tell me about yourself.” She coaxed.

He took the offered plate and sat it down in front of him. The aroma of the chicken and the bread filled him with such a hunger, as he had not experienced in a long time. His stomach growled and he spoke quickly trying to cover the embarrassing sound, “Yes, I was. I’m a teacher.”

“A teacher,” she placed her own plate before the chair opposite him and sat down. “How wonderful. What do you teach?”

He noticed she placed her hands in her lap and so he did the same. “I teach archeology. I once had dreams of being an archeologist, but I had an accident that prevents me from traveling.”

“I am sorry to hear about your accident, but I know your students are thrilled to benefit from all the wonderful knowledge you have to pass on to them. You had a dream, now you can help others find that same dream for themselves. I would say you are a very blessed man, Jonathan.”  She glanced out at the white fluffy seeds floating all about them and then back to Jonathan. “I always give thanks before my meals. Would you give thanks with me?”

“Of course.” Jonathan bowed his head but felt a moment of panic as he wondered if she would expect him to say something.

He listened as she prayed. Her prayer was simple and somehow comforting. She actually gave thanks for her new friend and for his great blessing of being an instrument of learning for young minds. Imagine that. She thinks of me as a blessing and that I can be a blessing to others.

She ended the prayer and glance up, “Please,” she indicated his plate. “Enjoy, and you must tell me how you like my chicken.”

He watched as she picked up a leg and took a dainty nibble. Wondering if he could do the same without looking like a pig, he followed her example. “UMMM!” He sounded in approval and chewed. Swallowing he proclaimed, “This is the best fried chicken I have ever put in my mouth.”

Rebecca glowed at his compliment, and he was glad he could say it in complete honesty.

The next several minutes were filled with appreciative moans of approval as he scarified down the lunch. As he sat back and patted at the corner of his mouth it accrued to him that he should be mortified by his manners. He had eaten like a starving man, but then he’s felt exactly that way -- like a starving man.

He glanced up feeling like a child expecting to see a look of horror on his hostess’s face. What he saw was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen smiling at him.

“Do you enjoy teaching?” she queried as she laid aside her own napkin. “Tell me a story about your favorite pupil.”

To his surprise several stories popped into his mind. He remembered Michael, a very gifted but painfully shy student. Though Michael excelled in his class, he fumbled something terrible in front of the female students. He talked for what seemed hours about Michael’s quick mind and Debra’s numerous comical escapades.

Timothy, he admitted, was the student closest to his heart. He was a young man with tremendous potential, but being a young man with the responsibility of elderly parents and several younger siblings, he had dropped out of school to help support his family. He was ashamed he had not thought about Timothy or even checked to see if there was anything he could do to help the young man.

Rebecca reached across the table and took his hand. “The fact that you are concerned about Timothy tells me the type of person you are on the inside.”

Had he spoken his shame out loud?

“I feel curtain that when you return home you will look up the young Thomas.” She patted his hand with two quick pats and then sprang up from her set. “We need to move around and work off that lunch.” She ran to the large tree then darted around to hide behind its wide trunk.

She poked her head out from the side and giggled. “Find me, if you can.” And then she was gone.

“Rebecca, Rebecca, where did you go?” He laughed as he sprang from his seat and hurried after her. He leaned against the tree and peeked around it expecting to see her on the other side. “Rebecca, where did you go?” He called out franticly as he looked about.

Her voice seemed to float on the gentle breeze, “Somewhere, my love. You must find me. Look among the cottonwood.” Her voice seemed so far away. How could she have gone so far in so short a time?

He reached up to pat his chest but caught himself. She would disapprove. He knew she would. His knee, which had not pained him while she was near, started to throb. He fought the impulse to satisfy himself that his laudanum was still safe and sound in his pocket.

“Mr. Aberrantly, we’re here. It’s time to go, Mr. Aberrantly.”

“Go? No. Not now. Not now.”

He felt a gentle push to his shoulder. “Yes, Mr. Abernathy. This is your stop.”

Jonathan rolled his head back and forth and slowly came to the realization that he was sitting in his seat aboard the train.

“No!” He jerked forward and glared at Ben. “Ben, I don’t understand. Weren’t we just at Cottonwood Springs?”

“You sure enough was, Mr. Abernathy.” Ben chuckled. I haven’t heard taking a nap called goin’ ta cottonwood springs sense I was a boy.” He helped Jonathan to his feet.

“A nap? I don’t understand. Oh!” Jonathan reached down to rub his knee. “Was I dreaming? It was so real.”

“I’m sure it was. You was deep into that dream. When me and my brother was younguns and just so full of energy we never wanted to go to bed, our mamma would tell us a story about Cottonwood Springs.”

Ben’s deep, even voice washed over Jonathan to sooth his jangles nerves and enveloped him with the feeling of a warm blanket and a cup of warm milk--kind of like coming home after a long journey. 

“What did she tell you?” He asked as they made their way steadily toward the exit.

“She told good stories, my mama did. Her story about Cottonwood Springs was very nice. She said that was where you went to dream the most wonderful dreams. No dream was too big or too fine for a place like Cottonwood Springs. She said the weather was always spring time, and the ponds was always filled with big old fishes.”

He chuckled then and Jonathan thought what a wonderful sound.

“Mama told us we should dream up all the dreams we could while we was young, and then when we became all grown up we could remember back and recall those dreams of our youth and work to make them come true .”

“And have you done that? Made your dreams come true , I mean.”

Ben helped him from the train. The platform was nearly deserted now, all except for the lamp lighter.

“Yes, suh.” Ben continued, “I have made a bunch of my dreams come true . But I was a big dreamer, and so I still have a passel and a half I be workin’ on. I reckon it will take me a lifetime. On your way back home you will just have to tell me what your big dream was, Mr. Abernathy.”

“I’ll do that, Ben. And Ben,”

“Yes, Mr. Abernathy.”

“I just wanted to say thank you for being my friend.”

Ben reached out and took Jonathan’s hand and shook it firmly. “And I thank you too, Mr. Abernathy.”

Jonathan turned as a familiar shrill voice reached his ears.

“Hi mister!”

“Hello, Tommy. Now you stay close to your mother and don’t give her any trouble.”

“Okay!” The child waved enthusiastically as his mother pulled him along the lamp lighted platform. He would never understand why that child took such an interest in him. Maybe he would be in class some day. Jonathan grinned. He would like that.

He leaned heavily on his cane and thought about Timothy. He was going to look Timothy up. And there was another very bright student in his class right now. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he could instill in him a burning desire to find that one great discovery that would change man’s perception of all that was past?

His knee hurt. He mentally calculated when his last dose of laudanum was taken. It had been a long time. No wonder his knee hurt so badly. For the first time he wondered how much of the pain was from the injury and how much from his own refusal to take responsibility for himself.

Oh, Rebecca. I wish you were real. I know I could make it with you at my side. If only I knew where to find you.

He tapped absently at his pocket and immediately realized the bottle was gone. Suddenly the pain was much worse and his hand shook with need as he reached into the empty pocket, unable to believe his bottle was gone. His fingertips touched something soft and he captured the fluff between his fingers to draw it out. There, captured between his fingers was a small fluff of cottonwood seed. A breeze blew gently about him and the seed floated up into the light of a lamp, and then beyond to be lost in the gathering darkness of night.

He heard a sigh and looked around and then back to where he’d last seen the tiny seed.

There, he heard it again. “Somewhere, my love. You must find me.”