I. All that you can't leave behind...
She assumed it would be difficult coming home, and going back to a day she had started more than twelve weeks ago. But from the moment she stepped foot out that door, meeting the dirt path leading from her front door to that whitewashed little fence surrounding her property, balmy January air hitting her face, it was like she had never left. The smell of rain still lingered, and clouds were moving in from across the lake. She remembered precisely what she had been doing.
She was able to make it to the schoolhouse before the children, and as they piled inside in their coats and hats, smiling and laughing, Katherine couldn't restrain the broad grin on her face. Each bowed or curtsied, respectfully addressing her with a "Good morning, Miss Katherine," and Katherine responded to each in kind.
She was home. This is where she was meant to be.
She was slow at her lessons. Little things would make her pause: the touch of chalk on her skin when she moved to write on the blackboard; the voice of a student she had missed so sorely, asking a question; the gleam of the lake outside the schoolhouse windows; the creak in the floorboards as she slowly moved between desks, checking papers.
"Miss Katherine?"
"Yes, Linda?"
"Have you forgotten our poetry assignments from yesterday?"
"Oh. No, sweetheart. Please, go on and collect the papers from the class," Katherine blinked. "Class? Please, pull out your poems and get them ready for Linda. We'll have a few read, once I've looked them over."
"You'll like mine," Linda giggled, as she rose from her seat. "I wrote it like that Chinese poem Mr. Scurlock showed us."
***
There was plenty of time to sit and think after class was dismissed and her children left her to her late afternoon chores. Evening courses wouldn't commence for another few hours yet, but the sun was already hanging low, setting the lake on fire. She didn't see Sam's boat docked anywhere in plain view. She wondered if he was off in his onion fields today.
'I wrote it like that Chinese poem Mr. Scurlock showed us.'
She had marveled at the girl’s memory, and the dedication with which she fostered that crush of hers. It was amusing, when it wasn’t absolutely heart-rending.
‘I don't know...I just...I wasn't ready to talk about it.’
‘I want to make this work.’
‘I just didn't know what to say to you.’
She focused out the window at that glistering lake, but her mind was a million, a billion-heck, maybe a trillion-miles away, in a barn at the end of the universe.
Sighing softly, she rubbed at her forehead.
‘I do trust you. I do. It was never that I didn't trust you, Kate.’
But she had seen the look on his face when she told him she was going home. He half-expected she would never come back.
Was he so far off?
Three months her door had been gone, and the landlord had kept her captive inside the walls of Milliways.
‘From what I've heard, Landlord keeps y'here until you're ready, or somethin' happens that's supposed to.’
‘Reckon I should set that one free, come dawn.’
Distantly, she heard the quiet, slow click of boots against hardwood. They weren’t a child’s footfalls. They weren’t a woman’s, either. She could feel her heart in her throat, a rush and a thrill racing from her belly to her head, and looked to the front doors with a smile in her eyes.
“Afternoon, Miss Katherine.”
Her face fell.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Walker.”
Without knowing why, she rose from her seat and turned her back to him. The blackboard had already been cleared, but she found herself trimming the edges, taking another pass at what chalk remained, to give her hands something to do.
Behind her, Charles ‘Trout’ Walker let his face fall to the ground as he took his hat in his hands, fingering the brim absently. “Now, Katherine... I know things have been a touch tense ‘tween us, lately.”
He paused, leaning one hip on the edge of her desk as he watched her work. When she turned back toward him, he made an effort to catch her eye. “Reckon that’s mostly my fault. Now, I just wanted to come ‘round ‘fore classes tonight to... well, to apologize to you, Katherine.”
She was surprised by this, but didn’t let it show much in her expression.
(She couldn’t help the way her eyes flickered to the front door briefly, though, looking for a friendly aid in case things turned sour.)
‘If y'ever get hassled by someone y'let me know, and I mean that. Ain't matter if he's got fire or wings or furry horns or somethin', ain't nobody who hassles a fine young miss as yourself an gits away with it, y'hear me?’
No one was there, of course.
“Apology accepted, Mr. Walker,” Katherine murmured, her voice cool, but soft. Trout grinned, that crooked, gold-plated grin of his.
“All right, then. How’s about you an’ I start over?” he said. “You can come on by for that picnic we was talkin’ ‘bout. Tomorrow, maybe?”
‘You run into any trouble, you find one of us.’
‘You got a door, I got a gun. And I don't miss.’
Another flick of her eye to those front doors.
“I’m afraid I’d rather decline.”
There hangs a pause between them.
“Now, c’mon, girl,” he murmured behind a brief laugh. “I said I was sorry.”
Katherine bristled, oh-so-subtly.
“Yes, and I accepted your apology. I believe that concludes our dealings for this afternoon.”
She listened to the pull of her own breath in the silence of the room. It was shaky, uneven. Everything was quiet.
She could just see the threshold to the schoolhouse in her periphery.
‘I don't care what the hell's goin' on in my life, if someone, anyone is botherin' you, I ain't gonna stand for it.’
Trout laughed again, quiet and subdued, rising to his full height and replacing the hat atop his head. He didn’t say a word at first, jaw tight and head shaking in utter bemusement. He glanced to Katherine, and she glanced back.
“Have a fine afternoon, Miss Katherine,” he said evenly, touching the brim of his hat.
My heart is beating so, I can’t possibly find the breath to answer.
She nodded her head. “You as well, Mr. Walker.”
***
He returned later that evening, for night class. For the most part she tried to ignore him, focusing instead on the reading lesson she was conducting, but the smell of brandy was strong.
“Th-the duck. Swims. On the. Lake.”
Katherine beamed as she lowered her pointer from the blackboard, where simple sentences in her sprawling chalked cursive lined the board.
“Very good, Mr. Penn!”
“Thank you, ma’am,” beamed the portly gentleman, as he took his seat again.
“The d-d-duck, may s-swim on the lake, but my daddy owns the lake!” gibed Trout from across the isle, and his group of friends and bootlickers erupted into laughter.
Katherine simply stared, frustrated to the point of speechlessness. Trout took that as invitation to lean forward at his desk, grinning that toothy grin of his as he gnawed on a piece of chewing gum, and winked at her. She could almost feel phantom hackles going up along her spine.
Glancing down, she took a moment to compose herself.
“That will be all for tonight. Thank you, class, you’re dismissed.”
The rabble was curious as folk stood from their seats and began to shuffle out. There were the overly subdued, voices tinted like beige on white canvas, as they moved past. And then there were the abrasive, acetone jeers of Trout’s posse.
She kept her eyes on her papers as he stood from his seat, but her attention was utterly focused on every move he made.
Her mind flashed to that day, not so many months past.
Will he come, this time?
She glanced, briefly, to the open front doors-to the gentlemen shuffling out into the ink be-smudged night.
She was looking for them.
(Even though she knew she wouldn’t find them.)
They don’t exist in this world.
They won’t help you.
They can’t.
Maybe it was all a dream...
He moved, and her hands tightened around a stack of papers she didn’t even remember picking up. If he came near her again, she would kill him. Even if Sam didn’t -
She felt a pang in her gut.
“...Sam.”
Slowly, she watched as Trout's frame turned from her, revolver glinting off his right hip as he moved to the front of the building, trailing just behind his pack of friends.
It took a good long while before she released her grip on those papers, or looked up from her desk, or moved to sit back in her seat. Her heart was pounding, and behind it there was a dull ache.
Milliways doesn’t exist out here.
You’re home, now.
This is home.
(Time to take care of yourself.)
***
That night, the dark clouds overhead finally broke, and brought down on Green Lake the last rain the town would see for the next one hundred and ten years.
.
She was able to make it to the schoolhouse before the children, and as they piled inside in their coats and hats, smiling and laughing, Katherine couldn't restrain the broad grin on her face. Each bowed or curtsied, respectfully addressing her with a "Good morning, Miss Katherine," and Katherine responded to each in kind.
She was home. This is where she was meant to be.
She was slow at her lessons. Little things would make her pause: the touch of chalk on her skin when she moved to write on the blackboard; the voice of a student she had missed so sorely, asking a question; the gleam of the lake outside the schoolhouse windows; the creak in the floorboards as she slowly moved between desks, checking papers.
"Miss Katherine?"
"Yes, Linda?"
"Have you forgotten our poetry assignments from yesterday?"
"Oh. No, sweetheart. Please, go on and collect the papers from the class," Katherine blinked. "Class? Please, pull out your poems and get them ready for Linda. We'll have a few read, once I've looked them over."
"You'll like mine," Linda giggled, as she rose from her seat. "I wrote it like that Chinese poem Mr. Scurlock showed us."
***
There was plenty of time to sit and think after class was dismissed and her children left her to her late afternoon chores. Evening courses wouldn't commence for another few hours yet, but the sun was already hanging low, setting the lake on fire. She didn't see Sam's boat docked anywhere in plain view. She wondered if he was off in his onion fields today.
'I wrote it like that Chinese poem Mr. Scurlock showed us.'
She had marveled at the girl’s memory, and the dedication with which she fostered that crush of hers. It was amusing, when it wasn’t absolutely heart-rending.
‘I don't know...I just...I wasn't ready to talk about it.’
‘I want to make this work.’
‘I just didn't know what to say to you.’
She focused out the window at that glistering lake, but her mind was a million, a billion-heck, maybe a trillion-miles away, in a barn at the end of the universe.
Sighing softly, she rubbed at her forehead.
‘I do trust you. I do. It was never that I didn't trust you, Kate.’
But she had seen the look on his face when she told him she was going home. He half-expected she would never come back.
Was he so far off?
Three months her door had been gone, and the landlord had kept her captive inside the walls of Milliways.
‘From what I've heard, Landlord keeps y'here until you're ready, or somethin' happens that's supposed to.’
‘Reckon I should set that one free, come dawn.’
Distantly, she heard the quiet, slow click of boots against hardwood. They weren’t a child’s footfalls. They weren’t a woman’s, either. She could feel her heart in her throat, a rush and a thrill racing from her belly to her head, and looked to the front doors with a smile in her eyes.
“Afternoon, Miss Katherine.”
Her face fell.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Walker.”
Without knowing why, she rose from her seat and turned her back to him. The blackboard had already been cleared, but she found herself trimming the edges, taking another pass at what chalk remained, to give her hands something to do.
Behind her, Charles ‘Trout’ Walker let his face fall to the ground as he took his hat in his hands, fingering the brim absently. “Now, Katherine... I know things have been a touch tense ‘tween us, lately.”
He paused, leaning one hip on the edge of her desk as he watched her work. When she turned back toward him, he made an effort to catch her eye. “Reckon that’s mostly my fault. Now, I just wanted to come ‘round ‘fore classes tonight to... well, to apologize to you, Katherine.”
She was surprised by this, but didn’t let it show much in her expression.
(She couldn’t help the way her eyes flickered to the front door briefly, though, looking for a friendly aid in case things turned sour.)
‘If y'ever get hassled by someone y'let me know, and I mean that. Ain't matter if he's got fire or wings or furry horns or somethin', ain't nobody who hassles a fine young miss as yourself an gits away with it, y'hear me?’
No one was there, of course.
“Apology accepted, Mr. Walker,” Katherine murmured, her voice cool, but soft. Trout grinned, that crooked, gold-plated grin of his.
“All right, then. How’s about you an’ I start over?” he said. “You can come on by for that picnic we was talkin’ ‘bout. Tomorrow, maybe?”
‘You run into any trouble, you find one of us.’
‘You got a door, I got a gun. And I don't miss.’
Another flick of her eye to those front doors.
“I’m afraid I’d rather decline.”
There hangs a pause between them.
“Now, c’mon, girl,” he murmured behind a brief laugh. “I said I was sorry.”
Katherine bristled, oh-so-subtly.
“Yes, and I accepted your apology. I believe that concludes our dealings for this afternoon.”
She listened to the pull of her own breath in the silence of the room. It was shaky, uneven. Everything was quiet.
She could just see the threshold to the schoolhouse in her periphery.
‘I don't care what the hell's goin' on in my life, if someone, anyone is botherin' you, I ain't gonna stand for it.’
Trout laughed again, quiet and subdued, rising to his full height and replacing the hat atop his head. He didn’t say a word at first, jaw tight and head shaking in utter bemusement. He glanced to Katherine, and she glanced back.
“Have a fine afternoon, Miss Katherine,” he said evenly, touching the brim of his hat.
My heart is beating so, I can’t possibly find the breath to answer.
She nodded her head. “You as well, Mr. Walker.”
***
He returned later that evening, for night class. For the most part she tried to ignore him, focusing instead on the reading lesson she was conducting, but the smell of brandy was strong.
“Th-the duck. Swims. On the. Lake.”
Katherine beamed as she lowered her pointer from the blackboard, where simple sentences in her sprawling chalked cursive lined the board.
“Very good, Mr. Penn!”
“Thank you, ma’am,” beamed the portly gentleman, as he took his seat again.
“The d-d-duck, may s-swim on the lake, but my daddy owns the lake!” gibed Trout from across the isle, and his group of friends and bootlickers erupted into laughter.
Katherine simply stared, frustrated to the point of speechlessness. Trout took that as invitation to lean forward at his desk, grinning that toothy grin of his as he gnawed on a piece of chewing gum, and winked at her. She could almost feel phantom hackles going up along her spine.
Glancing down, she took a moment to compose herself.
“That will be all for tonight. Thank you, class, you’re dismissed.”
The rabble was curious as folk stood from their seats and began to shuffle out. There were the overly subdued, voices tinted like beige on white canvas, as they moved past. And then there were the abrasive, acetone jeers of Trout’s posse.
She kept her eyes on her papers as he stood from his seat, but her attention was utterly focused on every move he made.
Her mind flashed to that day, not so many months past.
Will he come, this time?
She glanced, briefly, to the open front doors-to the gentlemen shuffling out into the ink be-smudged night.
She was looking for them.
(Even though she knew she wouldn’t find them.)
They don’t exist in this world.
They won’t help you.
They can’t.
Maybe it was all a dream...
He moved, and her hands tightened around a stack of papers she didn’t even remember picking up. If he came near her again, she would kill him. Even if Sam didn’t -
She felt a pang in her gut.
“...Sam.”
Slowly, she watched as Trout's frame turned from her, revolver glinting off his right hip as he moved to the front of the building, trailing just behind his pack of friends.
It took a good long while before she released her grip on those papers, or looked up from her desk, or moved to sit back in her seat. Her heart was pounding, and behind it there was a dull ache.
Milliways doesn’t exist out here.
You’re home, now.
This is home.
(Time to take care of yourself.)
***
That night, the dark clouds overhead finally broke, and brought down on Green Lake the last rain the town would see for the next one hundred and ten years.
.