Indivisible Line
Authors: Lorenz Font
Indivisible Line
By
Lorenz Font
First published by The Writer’s Coffee Shop, 2015
Copyright © Lorenz Font, 2015
The right of Lorenz Font to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the
Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All characters and events in this Book – even those sharing the same name as (or based on) real people – are entirely fictional. No person, brand, or corporation mentioned in this Book should be taken to have endorsed this Book nor should the events surrounding them be considered in any way factual.
This Book is a work of fiction and should be read as such.
The Writer’s Coffee Shop
(Australia)
PO Box 447 Cherrybrook NSW 2126
(USA)
PO Box 2116 Waxahachie TX 75168
Paperback ISBN- 978-1-61213-323-2
E-book ISBN- 978-1-61213-324-9
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the US Congress Library.
Cover Images -
© Jose Antonio Sánchez Reyes | Dreamstime.com
Cover Artist -
Claudia Trapp/Phantasy Graphic
Designwww.phantasygraphicdesign.com
www.thewriterscoffeeshop.com/LFont
Dedication
A big hug and kiss to my Bunny. Thanks for stepping in and taking charge, and for giving me all the time I need to chase my dream.
This is for you.
Chapter 1
“I have no idea how you can stand it.”
“What are you talking about?” Sarah Jones shot a glance at her best friend.
“Living here,” Lily Markham muttered with indignation, darting a challenging look in Sarah’s direction.
Sarah remained unimpressed, not putting much stock in the statement. Raising her long legs onto the desk and crossing them at the ankles, she shrugged her shoulders, refusing to be baited into expressing agreement with her friend’s complaints.
“I can’t wait to leave this hellhole,” Lily whined. It had become a regular habit for her.
“Why are you so hell-bent on leaving this place? I’ve been out there before.” Sarah waved her hand toward the window to indicate the vast open space encompassing their home and whatever lay beyond it. “To tell you the truth, you’re not missing much.”
“Because . . .” Lily showed her fingers and began ticking off her reasons. “One, this is a dead-end existence. We’ll live and die here. Two, I can’t be with Trimble here. Three, the laws are suffocating. The whole tribe looks at you like you’re entertainment. You want more?”
Sarah shook her head in response. Lily was a friend who understood Sarah’s misgivings and fears, but she was also blunt, honest, and often afflicted with foot-in-mouth disease. These attributes gave Lily the firepower to sling words and facts at Sarah, making her question both her sanity and her commitment to following the orders given by their tribe.
For years now, Lily had never failed to express her distaste for the laws of their land. She was most vocal in her criticism of the unfair denial of technology she believed they should be enjoying, as well the impending arranged marriage that would take place in the not-so-distant future and would rob her of the chance to be with the man she loved.
For the most part, Sarah didn’t mind it, but there were times when she disagreed with the decisions of Ahila, their Tribal Chief and her father. She often thought their modest town could use some better equipment for the clinic, another computer for their solitary school, and other newer gadgets to help usher their tribe into the modern era. However, Ahila had refused each suggestion, citing the requested items as trivial and unnecessary.
“What we have is enough,” her father often said, and each time, she’d clamp her mouth shut and leave the topic alone. All the other elders, at least those who were not yet senile, tended to agree with him. They still embraced the old ways. Lily called them “old school,” which happened to be an apt description of the deciding members of their community.
“No, I get what you’re saying.” Bitterness now laced Sarah’s tone. “So if you’re so unhappy being here, why don’t you leave? Just like the others.” She couldn’t make herself turn her back on her people and the only home she’d ever known, and she envied those who could. The truth was that she lacked the guts those who had left possessed and had put to use.
Many kids her age ran away at the first chance they could find. They left the suffocating traditions behind not just because they loathed the slow pace but more because of the fear of stagnation. In their eyes, there wasn’t much the town could offer for their futures.
“I can’t leave,” Lily protested with a soft cry, jerking back as if she’d been slapped in the face. The reason behind her refusal to pack her bags and go was no secret—Trimble Meda. The complication still remained. He was betrothed to Sarah.
“I thought so. If I were you, I’d stop acting like you have the ability to pick up and leave anytime you want. People are starting to talk, and we don’t want Father to hear about what you’ve been saying. You know he won’t hesitate to give you the boot.” It wasn’t a threat but a fact. Sarah hated talking to Lily in such a manner, in particular when it came to Trimble. Still, like it or not, there were some things they couldn’t change, no matter how much they may have wanted to.
For Sarah, following the rules had always come easy. She had grown up with a stern father, who knew very little about how to show affection. Ahila governed his Gwich’in tribe and their little enclave in Beaver, Alaska, with an iron fist. He had lost her mother before Sarah had reached puberty, so he had brought up his only child single-handedly in the best way he knew. Her father was strict and unbending. Their house had felt more like a military base than a home. Within its walls, rules were to be followed and no questions asked.
“You shouldn’t be so accepting, Sarah. You’re engaged to someone you don’t love. I’m sick of all this self-sacrificing crap. Would you really rather be an obedient daughter and a slave to your people than living your life the way you want?” Lily seemed to regret her words as soon as she’d spoken them. She cupped her hands over her eyes. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”
Sarah shrugged. “Maybe I do. I don’t know.”
The two women lapsed into silence and listened to the roaring of a moped’s engine as it whirred by and the chirping of the birds in the nearby forest.
Sarah fixed her gaze on the fishbowl that sat on her desk, watching the goldfish swim around in endless circles. Her reality sucked, and she knew it. Was she doomed to be just like the goldfish, swimming around in circles? There was nothing to look forward to in the future except marrying a man she didn’t love. Sure, everyone considered Trimble an excellent catch—he was the good, solid, hardworking kind of man many women hankered for. However, Sarah knew that a loveless union would be just the beginning of her troubles to come. How far would she and Trimble allow their extreme tradition dictate their fate?
“I have to go.” Lily stood in an abrupt movement. She brushed away her brown hair, which clung to her tear-streaked face, and ran for the door. On her way out, she grabbed the little basket that contained her knitting supplies.
Sarah felt sorry for her friend, but there was nothing she could do. Traditions were important, and she wouldn’t defy her father’s wishes.
Even if it means sacrificing your happiness and freedom?
a little voice in her head asked.
“Yes.”
Now wasn’t that creepy? It was one thing to hear voices in her head, but answering them out loud was downright disturbing.
Somewhat disconcerted, she continued to stare at the fish in its bowl. Its repetitive, stagnant life was not so different from her own. She was up at five every morning to do her chores. Between taking care of her father and herself, there wasn’t’ much time left for anything else. Her father was a simple man, doing little and saying even less. However, his demands were larger than life.
Life with the chief was like living by herself. The most excitement in her twenty-six years came when she had been accepted to UCLA with a free ride to obtain her undergrad. Afterward, the tribe had started forking over the tuition for her to attend med school. That gesture alone made it impossible for Sarah to even consider turning her back on her tribe. She was stuck living with their stifling traditions out of a deep sense of loyalty and obligation. So, she’d curbed her dreams of leaving town and had resigned herself to spending her life serving her people.
My life is as exciting as pounding a nail into a piece of wood.
Sarah snorted at the thought.
Although she was due back in Los Angeles in a month for the start of her final year, she was now home for the summer break to help out as much as she was able. There was little excitement in their sleepy town, so a part of her daily routine was to jog around the neighborhood each day. Running kept her sane and provided her with an excuse to socialize with her neighbors.
Her four-mile circuit pretty much covered the radius of the entire inhabited town. Beaver offered the peace and serenity many people sought. If you were looking, finding yourself in surroundings like these was almost too damn easy. You could hear yourself think, and having Mother Nature in your backyard made it all the more enticing. The town offered picturesque mountains, lush rivers, and abundant wildlife, all ready for one’s enjoyment.
How miniscule and dull Beaver seemed, though, when compared to the life she had experienced in Los Angeles. The city was a fascinating melting pot of every type of people imaginable, and she’d fallen in love with the place as soon as she set foot on campus her freshman year. Sarah adored her second home. Living in a big city had always been her dream as a child growing up, and Los Angeles offered large helpings of fun and excitement. It made her feel like a child in the middle of a candy store.
Adjusting herself on the tattered leather chair, Sarah stretched her tanned legs before slipping them underneath the desk. She picked up the book she had abandoned upon Lily’s arrival and returned to the page she’d been reading. Most days, the suspense-fiction she preferred could take her mind off things, but today her attention continued to wander. Still bothered by Lily’s words, she abandoned her book and stared outside the window.
Passing the time in Beaver could get tricky since there was nothing much to do. Over the past month since her return, she had methodically arranged, rearranged, alphabetized, and indexed all medical inventories, from supplies to medications. Bottles, bins, and containers were labeled, and all instruments had been sterilized in case of an emergency—not that she’d expect any.