The Clay Lion (24 page)

“Is that what you are doing?” he asked.

“I’m just beginning,” I said truthfully.

He thought for a while and eventually said, “Tell
me it will get easier.”

“It will,” I promised, “but only if you let it.”

“My daughter,” he said as he looked carefully at
me, “is a little younger than you. 
Was a little
younger.”
  He paused, unable to continue for some time.  “I
was taking her to piano lessons.  The truck came out of nowhere.”  He
stopped again, collecting his thoughts.  “Alexis loved the piano. 
She was gifted.  She filled our home with music.  I don’t know if I
will ever be able to hear the sound of the piano again.”

“Do you think she would want you to enjoy music
again?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered finally.

“Then you will find a way,” I said.

There was a voice at the far end of the
courtyard, calling my name.  My mother had arrived for her daily
visit.  I stood once again from the bench and held out my hand, cast and
all, to my new companion in an attempt to say goodbye.  He took my hand
gently and pulled me into his chest, hugging me with great longing.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said.

“Thanks,” he replied.

I made my way back down the trail towards my
room, feeling grateful for having met him, the grieving father.  I prayed
that I had helped him in some small way.  There was a good chance that I
would never know.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
O
NE

I was released from the hospital around two o’clock
in the afternoon, exactly one week from the date of my accident.  My body
was healing slowly, but my spirit was remarkably cured.  The whole family
arrived to escort me home and my mother prepared homemade lasagna for dinner in
my honor.  It was homecoming weekend, and as I was clearly in no condition
to attend the dance, my friends decided to bring the party to me.

Everyone wore their dresses and suits, except for
me as I was unable fit my casts into anything other than oversized
sweatshirts.  We listened to music and ate a lot of food that had
absolutely no nutritional value.  We played video games and card games and
board games.  And when it was over, everyone went home.  Branson and
I found ourselves alone together, sitting on the couch, surrounded by the mess
that signifies a successful party.

“Thanks for convincing everyone to bail on the
actual dance,” I said.

“It wasn’t a hard sell.  Everyone wanted to
be with you.  That and the dance
is
always pretty
lame anyway,” he teased.

“I would punch you if I could, but I can’t reach
you,” I said, straining to use my arms.

“I knew I liked those things,” Branson
laughed.  Then suddenly, he was serious.  “I’m glad to have you home
Sis.  For a while, I thought you were going to die.”

“I wasn’t going to die Branson,” I scoffed. 
“I was there the whole time.”

“It didn’t feel like it.  It felt like you
were gone.  It sucked.”

“I’m sorry,” I replied, immediately remorseful
for the pain I caused him.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, “it was just an
accident.  I’m just glad everything is going to be okay.”

I thought for a moment, carefully choosing what I
wanted to say to him.  “Branson, you know, everything might not always be
okay.”

 
“What do
you mean?”

“I mean, you never know.  The car accident
thing came out of nowhere and it just happened.  And I’ll recover. 
But stuff happens every day to millions of people. 
Stuff
that is awful and unexpected.
  But even if things don’t always turn
out the way we think they will, we have to keep being strong, you know?”

“Are you on drugs, Sis?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes at him.  “
Nevermind
,” I said.

Branson jabbed me, gently, in the ribs. 
“No, I get it.  The crash was scary.  I was scared.  You were
scared.  Mom and Dad were scared.  I’m just kind of ready to not
think about it anymore, you know?”

“I know, but some of us have these little
reminders,” I said holding up my arms, laughing at myself.

He laughed along.  It was nice hanging out
together, just the two of us.  Finally, I felt comfortable enough to
broach the subject I had been avoiding since coming out of the coma.

“Did you get to go camping last weekend?” I asked
quietly.

“No.  But
it’s
okay
Sis,” he added quickly.  “There will be other camping trips.  We can
try again in the spring.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I found that I actually
meant it.  As much as I was hoping and praying that by not going camping
Branson had avoided the exposure that would cause his disease, for the first
time, I felt like I would be okay if it did not.

“I’m about to turn into a pumpkin,” I said, hoisting
myself from the sofa to head up the stairs to bed.  “Thanks again for
hanging out tonight.”

“I got your back, Sis,” he replied.

He always had.  I prayed he always would.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
T
WO

Over the course of the next several weeks, life
remained much as it had in all three previous timelines.  There were
school assignments, trips to the mall, and Branson’s soccer games. 

In mid-November I found myself seated, once
again, in the bleachers with Sarah and my mother watching the fateful game
against our cross town rivals.  Once again, Sarah discussed her college
applications.  Once again, Doug Simms broke three toes.  Once again,
we lost, five to seven.  But for the first time, Branson did not remove
his shin guard.  He did not pull himself out of the game.  He did not
develop the rash.

My heart soared with newfound hope.  I
cautioned myself that I had been optimistic in the past, only to be dismayed
when his cough returned.  And yet, I was unable to stop myself.  As
the game ended, mine was the lone smile in a sea of gloomy faces.

“What has you so cheerful?” my mother asked as
she assisted me down the bleacher steps.  “We got pummeled. 
Branson’s going to be heart broken.”

“It’s just a game Mom,” I replied.

“Don’t let your brother hear you say that,” she
cautioned, smiling herself.

School held renewed interest for me.  With
the promise of college looming in the not so distant future, I spent time
mastering as many skills as I was able during class time and finished each of
my college applications.  As I had in the original timeline, I planned to
attend State and enroll in their pre-med program in veterinary medicine. 
Having a future felt real for the first time in years.  I promised myself
I would not be derailed again.

I did make a conscious decision about college
that I hoped would carry into the future with me.  I realized that when I
eventually returned to the present timeline, it would be 15 months in the
future.  I would return to the exact date I left Jasper Industries in June
of the following year.  If I chose to attend college in the fall,
regardless of what happened with Branson, I would have no memories of my entire
freshman year, as it would be completed by the time I returned from my trip. 
Having no memories of classes attended or knowledge learned would put me at a
huge disadvantage when I returned to the present, as I would immediately have
to enter my sophomore year. 

I hoped that by acknowledging this truth that I
would find a way to postpone entering college until I returned to the present
after my trip.  Perhaps I could intern at the vet for a year, giving
myself an opportunity to network.  Or, in the event that Branson should
die once again, I could stay at home for a year to assist my grieving
parents.  Either way, I planned to defer my college acceptance for a
year.  I sent letters stating my intentions to each of the colleges to
which I had applied.

Branson and I continued to live our lives as we
always had, with respect and love for one another.  Although our daily
life was as it always had been, I constantly reminded myself that our days were
very possibly numbered and that each moment together was a gift.  I tried
not to get angry when he did not empty the dishwasher when it was his
turn.  I did not yell when he played his music loudly as I attempted to
study for a calculus exam.  I watched him shovel his dinner into his mouth
each night without making fun of his poor etiquette.  If these were to be
our final months together, I would make every effort to soak up as much of him
as I could.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY
T
HREE

November rolled peacefully into December. 
The casts were removed from both of my arms and I began regaining my
strength.  Branson resumed working at the hardware store to assist the
Cooper’s with the seasonal rush, and for the first time during any of my trips,
I was positive that the events that were about to unfold would have life
altering consequences.  I resolved to make sure that the Coopers were
aware of their damaged roofing, one way or another.

On the day of the “ball on the roof” incident, I
was pleased to find that for the third time straight, the day was unusually
warm.  I decided that I would spend the afternoon tucked away in the attic
of the hardware store as I had been during my first trip so that I could bear
witness to the discovery of the damaged roofing.  I reasoned that if for
some reason the ball was never kicked onto the roof, I would find a way to
alert the Coopers to the damage myself.

It was far more challenging scaling the fire
escape than it had been on my first trip, as my weak arms prevented me from
climbing as easily as I had in the past.  It was with great difficulty
that I hoisted myself to the small door on the third floor that led to the
attic space.  Luckily, my fingers still functioned well and I was able to
jimmy the lock with little effort.

Once inside the musty attic, the same comfort I
felt there in the past immediately washed over me.  Mixtures of shadow and
light danced magically around the expansive corridor, drawing me into its
secrets.  Immediately, I began searching for the small wooden ammunition
box.  I found it behind an antique dresser, exactly where it had been when
I discovered it the first time. 

I seated myself comfortably on the floor,
cushioned by an old quilt and opened the box.  Letter after letter, penned
in the most beautiful handwriting, declared the author’s undying love for the
bride he had left behind.  I wondered what their fate had been.  In
my own mind, I pictured him returning from the war, wounded but alive, eager to
resume their loving union.  Sadly, I acknowledged, he had probably never
seen her again.

Laughter from below led me to the window. 
Melody and her friends had arrived.  It was with great longing that I
observed them from the sanctuary of the attic high above the vacant lot. 
Within moments, the boy with the ball appeared and a spirited game of kickball
ensued.  I held my breath, waiting for the ball to land upon the
roof.  I attempted reading the letters once again, but I found that my
anxiety was too great.  Minutes ticked by and I began pacing in front of
the window. 

At long last, I heard the loud thud of the ball
on the roof overhead.  With great joy, I watched as the children
encouraged Mr. Cooper to come see what had happened.  The chain of events
that I had witnessed before was set into motion yet again.  The ladder
came out.  A man was sent to the roof.  The ball was removed. 
The roof damage was discovered. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing that the
roof would be repaired before any catastrophe would befall Mrs. Cooper. 
She would survive.  All was as it should be.

And yet, there was an aching in my soul that I
could not ignore.  I was acutely aware of what was to transpire within the
next several minutes in the lot below.  I was powerless to stop it, but
just the same, I knew that I held my future firmly in the palm of my
hand.  In that moment, I controlled my own destiny.  I remembered
that I had given my word, and yet, I reasoned with myself, the future in which
that promise had been made would never come to be.  The promise had yet to
be made and so, was I bound to it at all?  My heart urged my feet to leave
the attic at once. 
To sprint down the fire escape so I
could be waiting with Melody when Charlie arrived.
  We could begin
again.  And I would do better.  Be better.