Shelf Life (2 page)

CHAPTER
TWO

“I
n a hurry to get home to Mommy? Maybe she’s got some knitting for you to do. Wait—I bet it’s your turn to churn the butter,” Jay sneers and makes a motion that could either be churning butter or something more…vulgar.

“Look, man, I got no beef with you.”

“Nice choice of words, considering.”

“It’s the last day of school. We can finish this another time.”

“No, sonny boy, we do this when I say we do this. Got it?” I flinch when Jay knocks me back into the bricks of the school’s exterior. Pain radiates from where my head makes contact and bounces. “And I say we do this now.”

On the last word, Jay reaches back and lands an upward punch into my stomach. He laughs and walks away as I drop my backpack and bend over, trying to catch my breath.

“At least he didn’t knee you in the nuts.” I groan at the sound of my sister’s voice. When I look up, she’s studying her fingernails.

“I realize seeing your brother bent over in pain is an everyday occurrence and unworthy of the slightest sympathy, but you think you could
gimme a hand?”

Sarah rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Be at the car in five minutes or I’m leaving without you. And try not to get beaten up again on the way there.”

I shoot daggers into my sister’s retreating back as she saunters her way across the school parking lot to our dark green Explorer. It used to be Dad’s, but he gifted it to me on my sixteenth birthday. Then when Sarah turned sixteen, her name was added to the title. That was more than a year ago, and not a day has gone by that she hasn’t taken advantage of it.

Hefting my backpack onto my sore shoulder, I think that maybe this is the worst last day of school ever. My hypothesis is confirmed when I open the passenger door and hear a
Nickelback ballad blaring from the speakers.

“Really?”

“You can walk. It’s only ten miles home,” she says.

I shake my head, but slide in and buckle up. Except for the obnoxious music, the ride home is quiet. I stare as our small city recedes and the landscape becomes more rural. We pass the hardware store, the feed mill where Lindsey works, and the farm equipment store. A few more miles and Sarah makes a hard right onto our dirt road.

“You should stay away from him,” she says.

“What?”

She leans over and turns down the volume. “I said, you should stay away from him. Jay’s bad news.”

I blink a few times, partly because I can’t believe she actually seems to care, and partly because her statement is so stupid. “It’s not like I go looking for him.”

Sarah shrugs, her pity obviously short-lived. I consider relaying Jay’s message to her as payback, but I can’t bring myself to sink that low. Plus, the mental picture makes me ill. We ride the last few miles in silence. Once we reach the edge of our family’s property, I sit up straighter and do my daily inspection. I check off my mental list from the passenger seat.

The livestock fence is fine—none of the girls are trapped in it. I can’t see any fallen trees, and the orchard is bursting with blooms. When we get within a hundred yards of the driveway, Bennie appears, barking and leaping after the SUV.

“I swear, I’ll run over that damn dog one of these days.”

“That damn dog may save your life one of these days.”

Sarah snorts and pulls up near the house. Mom is in the side yard, bent over a fire and a large pot. Next to her are empty canning jars she’s sterilizing. She began canning when she was in middle school after reading the
Little House on the Prairie
books. Then she read
Gone with the Wind
where all poor Scarlett O’Hara had to eat after the war was sweet potatoes. Those books became our bedtime stories and I swear I can recite each one by heart.

When Dad came back from Iraq in 2004, that’s when things really got weird. I don’t mind living on a farm—love it, in fact. Love the animals, love the food, don’t mind the hard work, and I’ve always preferred to be outside rather than in. But Dad started talking about the economic collapse that was coming, along with “infidels” who were trying to destroy America, undermine the value of the U.S. dollar, and how factions within our own government were responsible for eroding our civil liberties.

He began investing in gold and silver, used his and mom’s savings to construct an underground bunker and root cellar hidden in the woods near the back of the property, and there’s at least one gun in every room of the house. Add in Dad’s random freak-outs when it thunders or someone shoots off fireworks, and yeah, the past couple years have been bizarre.

“Hey, kiddos,” Mom says. “How was your last day?”

“Fine,” Sarah grunts and disappears into the house. Clearly, someone’s bitter that she has to go back in the fall.

“Good,” I say, knowing Mom can detect my lie with preternatural skill.

“Glad to hear it. Hey, can you get me some more water?”

“Sure.” The giant metal bucket smacks my legs as I wander over to the water pump. “Don’t know why we can’t just have a water hose hooked up to the house like normal people,” I grumble. I continue to curse my bad luck and odd life while priming the pump and filling the bucket with cold water drawn straight from the ground.

“This winter’s supposed to be a really bad one,” Mom says as I pour the water into the kettle. “Not too much now. That’s good. We’ll have to make sure to stock up for the long season as early as possible.” Never mind that it’s the end of May and she’s already thinking of December.

“Where’s Dad?”

“Went fishing after he got home from work. Should be back any time now. Why don’t you do your chores before he returns? Then we’ll eat. I’m making your favorite in honor of your last day of high school. I still can’t believe my baby’s graduating.” She reaches out and ruffles my hair before I stalk off to the barn, blushing ’til my cheeks hurt.

As I approach the big, red box, I
suck in my breath to fully inhale the smell of sweet hay. Of course, there are a few fouler smells mixed in, but they all combine to create a perfume I can’t imagine going without for a single day. Like clockwork, the cows are already in their stalls, waiting for me to relieve them of their burden. I approach Katie, Scarlett and Ashley—yes, Mom named them—and stroke their heads, noticing, not for the first time, that their big brown eyes seem more kind and human that most of the jerkwads at school—one in particular.

“Just a minute, ladies, and I’ll be right with you.”

I wash my hands, grab a sanitized bucket, a stool, iodine dip, and settle in to milk Scarlett. “Lewis and I played our last round of The Naughty Game today, girl. Gonna miss that. Lots of things I’ll miss, actually, but don’t tell anyone. Not everything has to change, right? I mean, Lewis will still come over every day, and me, him and Lindsey will still hang out.”

Scarlett shifts a little, so I pat her flank.
“Won’t miss seeing Jay every day, though, that’s for damn sure. He pinned me up against a locker one last time then got me in the gut after school. Good thing you can’t tell Mom about that. She’d freak and go to the principal again, or worse, march over to the Leahers’ and go off on his parents. She did that once in middle school before we got you. Made things worse.”

Scarlett gives me about three gallons. I pour it into the milk strainer then move on to Ashley and Katie. Even after ten years of hand-milking cows, I secretly love this chore. Sure, my hands get sore, I have to get
up before dawn, and it sucks when the girls get too excited and drop a steaming cow pie right next to my head, but I love knowing my family trusts me enough to follow their strict guidelines to make sure the milk is clean and uncontaminated.

Once all three are done, I tighten the lid on the milk can and pull the cart to the front of the house.

“Mom! Can you get the door?”

No longer outside, she pokes her head out of the front door, looking like a hobbit in an underground woodland cottage. It’s built into a hill similar to a bunker. The roof is grass, and the front of the house features the only windows.

“Here, let me help you, sweetheart.”

“I got it. Where’s Dad?”

She frowns. “He’s still not back. I’m getting worried.”

“If he’s not back in an hour, I’ll go look for him.”

“I appreciate that, honey. Take Bennie with you,” she says as I slide the can out of the cart.

“My, my, look at those muscles. You really are growing up, aren’t you?”

“Stop it, Mom. Jeez.”

“Oh, don’t jeez me. I can’t help it. You’re my baby.”

“I’ve got paperwork to fill out for the summer class. Call me when dinner’s ready.” I quickly kiss Mom’s cheek before heading to my room.

Instead of completing the paperwork, I sprawl out on my bed and stare at the ceiling. Though I appreciate Mom’s compliments and I know she’s having trouble dealing with me graduating, I still wish I could stay on campus like most students instead of
commuting. There’s too much work to do around here and we just can’t afford for me to move out.

I nearly jump out of my skin when someone shakes my shoulder.

CHAPTER
THREE

“D
inner’s ready,” Mom whispers, then she bends down and kisses my forehead as I blink away the dream I’d been having.

“Dad back?”

“No.”

“Crap.”

“Yep.”

After shoveling down my dinner of venison stew and trading insults with Sarah while Mom referees, I grab a couple small utility knives and my coat. It’s technically spring, nearly summer, but the temperature falls pretty quickly after dark, and the sun is well on its way to setting.

“Take Bennie,” Mom reminds me.

Outside, I whistle and Bennie comes bounding across the yard at full speed.

“Good girl,” I say, patting our border collie on the head. “Let’s go find Dad.”

She
wags her tail and circles me a few times before finally settling into a trot at my heels. Mom said Dad was fishing at the creek on the eastern edge of the property, but he may have finished early and decided to check on the supplies in the bunker. They’re in the same direction, so I’ll make a quick stop before heading over to the creek.

The bunker is set into the ground, accessible by descending five steps that lead to its only entrance and exit. Camouflaged to match the woods around it,
there’s no way anyone could ever find it on their own. I tug on the padlock.

“Everything looks good, little lady.” Bennie stops, perks up her ears, and faces west. Then she turns in a circle and resumes her wagging. Ten minutes later, we approach Dad’s favorite fishing hole. The soft earth of the well-worn path gently gives way under my boots. The spring rains have turned the ground into a lush carpet of greenery and rich mud, home to wild daffodils, dandelions, and clover. New grapevines stretch skyward, desperate to catch the last shafts of sunlight that filter through the growing trees.

Bennie gives a soft yip and sprints ahead, leaving me alone with my thoughts—two sets warring for attention. In the back of my mind, I know I can’t put off asking Dad for permission to stop by tonight’s party at Helen’s. Only juniors and graduating seniors are invited. I shake my head.
This’ll be my first and last high school party.
Foremost in my mind is the scene before me. The solace and beauty found only in the woods of my home brings peace I can’t find anywhere else. I look up to see a wren jump from one branch to another then close my eyes and inhale deeply, infusing my breath with the scents of rich, dark earth and clean air.
I’m in the Garden of Eden
. I open my eyes and sprint the last hundred yards to the creek.

Bennie meets me on the path, turning in circles and barking crazily.

“Again?” Bennie nudges my hand. “I know, girl. Show me where he is.”

Dad’s crouched behind a cluster of trees near the edge of the water. I never would have seen him if
Bennie hadn’t practically turned herself inside out trying to get me to follow.

“Dad, it’s me. Pete. Bennie’s here.
C’mere girl.”

She stops prancing and slowly approaches, just as she’s been taught. Carefully, she lowers her head and licks Dad’s hand.

“Pete.”

“Yeah, Dad.”

I watch my soldier father curl into a ball on the forest floor and begin to rock back and forth with his hands on his head. Unfortunately, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him do this.

“Dad, it’s okay. Look at me. Look at my eyes.”

Bennie continues to nuzzle Dad as I try to lift his chin from where he’s tucked it into his chest. Great, heaving sobs wrack his body.

“Time to go back to the house, Dad.
Mom made a big dinner and we don’t want it to get cold. Lord knows she’s as scary as whatever you’re remembering.”

After a few moments, he manages a small smile. “Okay, kiddo. Okay. I’m okay.
Just gimme a minute?”

“Sure, Dad.”

He stops rocking, but remains on the ground. His clothes are caked with mud. Mom will be upset, but not about the clothes. Those she can soak and make good as new again. My dad, however, is a tougher case.

“Okay, girl, I get it. I’m fine now,” he says, and pats Bennie on the head. “That was a bad one. Don’t tell your mother?”

I sigh. “You know I can’t keep anything from her, and you’re a terrible liar. She’ll know. Besides, you’ve been gone a long time and she’s already worried. She’s
not stupid.”

“Yeah, I know. We could tell her I fell in the creek. I’ll go jump in.”

I can’t stop the eye roll that follows. “Dad, stop. Let’s just get back to the house, okay?”

“Okay.” I hold out my hand, he grasps it, and I pull him to his feet. “I don’t even have any fish to bring back as a peace offering.
Caught some bluegill, but threw ’em back. Used soda can tabs to make hooks, and they worked, but the creek’s still too cold to catch much.”

“Let me see.”

Dad searches his coat pocket and produces a soda tab with part of the bottom loop cut away. I turn it over in my hand to see how he made it. “Cool. We could make tons of these and keep a supply of them.”

“Exactly.
Cheap, too,” he says.

I hand it back and flick on the flashlight Mom made me bring. In the time since I found Dad, the sun has mostly disappeared, sending the temperature down, too. We make our way through the woods without incident, though I can’t help glancing back to make sure Dad’s still behind me. Bennie runs circles around us both, nose to the ground. She treats us like her puppies, or maybe sheep, since that’s what she was bred to do. Thank goodness she’s also trained to keep an eye on Dad and knows how to handle him when humans sometimes can’t.

By the time we make it to the corn field, it’s completely dark.

Dad clears his throat. “You check the bunker today?”

“Yep, on my way to find you.”

“Ah, good.
Been thinking about making a new bow. I read a blog about making them out of PVC and nylon string. Wanna help?”

“Sure, Dad.
Hey, what triggered this one?” I didn’t mean to blurt it out, but the question’s been running through my head the entire walk.

Dad stops and glances up at the stars. “Don’t know, son. One minute I was sitting on a rock, fishing, and man was it a glorious afternoon. We’ve been lucky this spring. Anyway, next thing I know I’m sweating and I thought I saw a body floating in the creek. Don’t remember much after that.”

I nod and begin walking again. When we enter the pasture, I smell wood smoke coming from the house. My stomach rumbles its reply. Even though I’ve already had one helping of stew, the trek out here made me hungry again. Mom promised to make a special dinner for the last day of school, and she’d come through for me. Time for a second helping. I’m hoping if I compliment her cooking enough, she’ll let me go to the party, but with Dad being on edge, it’s doubtful.