Chapter 3
The government works in interesting ways, and while I did go home to Modesto to finish my sixth grade year, the government decided it did not want me to live life with the Rush family this time around. They wanted better control of me than they could manage with me in Modesto, and so they took their own steps. Part of their decision was my own doing, but in July of 1981, we were packing our house up for a big move.
I had cried myself to sleep for a week when I heard the news. Since returning home I'd been under strict orders to not reach out to anyone from my past life, and to keep as low a profile as possible. Every other week, it seemed, I was being driven down to Castle Air Force Base where people wanted to interview me on an 'urgent' matter. That was what fueled the final decision, and when one of the government analysts came upon a sentence I'd uttered during my first interview, they found a neat solution that met the government's needs while allowing for me to live with my family in a way that would not draw too much unwanted attention.
Last month, my father had gone to a small town called Eureka, Nevada for an interview. He was interviewed by the local Southern Baptist Church to replace their last preacher who'd died of old age the month before. Eureka is a small town of little more than five hundred people in the town itself, and another two or three hundred in the surrounding valleys. The entire county (also called Eureka) was three times the size of my home county and held all of twelve hundred people instead of over three hundred thousand.
Most of the town, and surrounding valleys, were made up of alfalfa farmers and ranchers and the businesses to support those operations. The town itself was located in a large canyon, and Highway 50 split the town in two as a main street. It had been founded during Nevada's Silver Rush, about the same time as California's Gold Rush. The mines were long-since closed, and the area had subsisted largely off of farming and ranching.
The town was currently experiencing a slight boom from a decision in May that had the Air Force building a Stellar Observatory in the unclaimed land to the north and west of town. The site was chosen because it could be built on unclaimed land that wasn't even used for the ranging of cattle, it was nearly seventeen miles from the town, which was hidden by a canyon so there was little light to disturb the sensitive telescope, and the area's elevation was over four thousand feet above sea level. There was almost no pollution to obscure the sky as well. Yet, it still had a nearby town for base personnel to frequent, and the town had a small airstrip that would allow passenger flights for the Air Force's smaller planes.
To the surprise of the local church members, the team for onsite construction the Air Force sent consisted mostly of members of the Southern Baptist denomination and began attending church almost immediately. The land for the new observatory was already federal land, and while no permits were necessary, the Air Force had almost immediately unveiled drawings that reassured the locals that the observatory would not ruin the land, their views, or their crops or cattle. There would be almost no impact on their daily lives, except that there would be forty to one hundred personnel there, putting money into the local economy. Since one hundred people was almost a 20% increase in the local population; that was considered to be a big economic bonus (especially to the town's lone legal brothel and six bars).
Dad was the first preacher the church had interviewed, and while most of the locals liked him, the enthusiastic support of their new members from the Air Force observatory swayed them to decide they didn't need to hear any others. He was hired on the spot with a salary offer of ten thousand dollars per year, and free housing in the parsonage next to the church. My father accepted the offer without bothering to consult with his wife or family back home in California. It had been three years since he'd been the full pastor of a church and wasn't about to turn down the opportunity.
I had thrown a literal temper tantrum when I'd heard the news, and added up all these coincidences without any help. My first phone call to the 'handler' I'd been assigned lasted two minutes until he'd hung up after I'd called him every bad name I could think of in four languages. After that, I skipped him and called the Pentagon directly, dialing up General Maxwell's number.
"What the hell do you think you're doing shipping me off to Eureka, Nevada?" I'd demanded of him in a harsh tone. Mom and Jenny were out shopping and I was alone in our townhouse.
"It really is a nice place, Davey." General Maxwell had retorted with a slight chuckle.
"I KNOW it's a nice place, General." My voice was just below a shout. "I lived there in my first lifetime. We moved there my freshman year in high school after that damn church had searched for a pastor for nearly three years! I actually grew to love it there right up until my sister told us that Dad had been molesting her and my parents got a divorce!"
"I know, that's what gave us the idea for the place." General Maxwell's voice was smug and I had to resist the urge to throw the phone down. "Look, David, I know you don't want to give up on the better life you managed last time around. I understand that, but you have to understand that you are in a different place now, that you have a lot more to offer us and the limited access to you in Modesto just is not working out. We're building an observatory there, but there's going to be a dedicated team to work with you there. As time goes by, we'll need you less and less, and you can go about living a normal teenage life there. When the Shevardnadze and Chinese time travelers have been dealt with, the team will be cut back to one or two who also will work on the observatory. We'd planned to build the thing near Fallon, not near Eureka, but there really is a need for it and it will be there long after you've moved on with your life. As for your father, you are more than capable of keeping things from happening like they did before. You've proven that already, haven't you?"
"Yes, General." I had answered him with reluctance. His no-nonsense tone told me all I needed to know, really. This was a final decision and I wasn't going to change it for all the yelling in the world. "What's been decided on my pay?"
"You're a greedy bastard, you know that?" General Maxwell had laughed at that.
"Yes, but I'm also the one who gave up over six million in the bank to save my country." I had retorted. "That's not to mention the relationships and all the rest."
"Which is why the government has approved your request." General Maxwell had stated firmly and I let out a slight sigh. It wasn't the best news, but it was better than none. Knowing my Dad, and the expenses of living in the middle of nowhere that he had no idea of, his meager salary was nowhere near enough. The problem was that the church really couldn't afford more. I remembered a winter where the heating bill alone had taken up his entire paycheck, much less food and gas. "You'll receive a two hundred grand signing bonus, and eighty-four thousand a year for six years. It stops on your eighteenth birthday and the government has no more financial obligations to you unless a new contract is signed. You are being given a civilian pay-grade roughly equivalent to what you enjoyed in the previous timeline."
"Thank you for making that happen, Bob." I had said informally, and he chuckled again. We both knew that he and the Admiral had been my strongest advocates on the Oversight committee. It was my own fault really, because the week I'd gotten back I'd run across Brian by accident, and nearly blurted everything out. Fortunately, I'd stopped myself before I'd crossed half the distance between us, and he'd never noticed me as he continued walking down the street with Brandon and Trevor. The FBI agent tailing me had noticed though, and his observation of that must have contributed with the rapid plan to get me out of this area.
"Davey, get your head out of the clouds and help me with this piano!" Dad barked a little angrily, and his words drew me back to the work at hand. In mid-July, Modesto was hot and humid, making the process of loading the moving truck all the more difficult. The lazy part of me wondered why I hadn't ordered movers to do this for us, since I could afford it, but I knew better. Dad knew I was getting paid for my 'internship' with the government but he didn't know how much. I just gave him five hundred a month in 'rent', which he claimed I should pay since I was earning my own money now. Really, my parents needed it more than I did, and since I was paying him 'rent', I got away with demanding a few more privileges than he would normally have granted me at this age.
Together we moved Mom's piano from the townhouse into the truck. Dad had it going in the middle of the truck, wedged between Mom's gargantuan oak dresser and the pieces of my king-size waterbed. It was the last really heavy item, most of the rest being boxes and a few chairs. With Jenny and Mom moving more stuff out now, the town house we'd lived in for the past year was emptied within an hour.
'Well, we're ready to go." Dad said with a proud smile. It was amazing how much pride he was showing now that he'd gotten a church again. In the last timeline, I'd forgotten this look on him, and it was strangely reassuring to see it now.
"I still don't like you two driving off in the middle of the afternoon." Mom pouted in a soft voice. I was taller than her even at this age, and her brown hair had been freshly permed. "Why don't you stay the night at my mother's and then you two can start out early in the morning?"
"Now, Susan, you know why that won't work." Dad's voice held a note of exasperation and he frowned down at Mom. "We have to return the truck to the dealership in Ely on Friday morning. In order to get to Eureka, unload the truck, and drive it all ninety miles to Ely, we have to be there by tomorrow morning. If we don't it's an extra hundred dollars for the truck."
"I'm just worried about you driving all night." Mom complained and I had to smile.
"Don't worry, Mom, if he gets tired I'll drive." I said and that got a laugh from everyone.
"Over my dead body." Dad retorted with a broad smile. Little did he know I'd driven seventeen thousand ton ships, much less trucks larger than this one. Mom gave us both a hug, as did Jenny before we got into the truck, with me in the passenger seat, and drove out of the complex parking lot. Mom's car, an RX-7 was loaded mostly with clothes for the two of them and was what she'd drive out to Nevada. Dad popped in a Beach Boys tape, and we left Modesto to the tune of Good Vibrations.
Thirty minutes later, as we passed through Stockton on our way north, Dad turned the tape deck down and looked over at me before speaking. "You're taking this whole moving to Nevada thing a lot better than I expected, Davey."
"It sounds like a nice place from what you described, Dad." I answered him, pulling my gaze away from the passing cityscape and looking him in the eyes before he turned to look back at the road. "Besides, the government said I'd be able to continue my internship with them there."
"How stupid do you think I am?" Dad asked with more than a little anger in his voice and I had to look at him hard with surprise.
"What do you mean?" I stammered, totally caught off guard.
"Son, I don't care what you've done." Dad answered me in a much softer tone. "I don't care what you are doing. You're my son and I will always love you. Just don't expect me to believe that all the trouble in April was over some stupid diagram, and most certainly don't expect me to believe that I got a job in a rural town, where a new air force facility is going in at the last minute, and where you can continue this 'work' for the government all by pure happenstance. Something is going on here, you're involved in it, and I'm being lied to about everything."
"You're not being lied to about everything." I countered with an edge in my voice that Dad's look told me was not acceptable in a twelve-year old. "Look, Dad, I can't really discuss what is going on with the military. Let's just say I stumbled on to something big, and the government needs me to continue working with them on this."
"I know they're paying you, but how much are they really paying you and not what you told me?" Dad countered, going for the money angle as could be expected.
"With all due respect, that's my business, dad." I countered firmly. "If you want to really push things, the government will just take over, declare me a national asset, and you'll never see me again. Make too many waves, and they'll make you regret it completely. This way, I get to stay with my family and live a relatively normal life. The other way would be a lot cheaper on the government and they'll go with that in a heartbeat."
"What is it?" Dad pushed.
"Dad, I really can't tell you." I said with a heavy sigh. "Don't ask them either, because they'll start getting edgy. Just pretend you have a blind eye on this and let things develop. You're going to like the place and your new church a lot, Dad. You'll be the only full-time preacher in the area and so you'll get to do a lot of things like work as the Sheriff's Chaplain and really get to know some really good people. The town doctor is a pilot and has a private plane at the airport. If you become friends with him, he might take you up a few times and let you fly the plane. I know you've always wanted to be a pilot so that'll be fun."
"Who are you and what has the government done with my son?" Dad's voice was sharp, and he gave me a look that told me he was not joking. I thought about what to say for a moment before taking a deep breath and answering.
"I'm your son, David Ray Jones, Jr." I answered him honestly. "I've just done a lot of growing up in the last few months, and I know a lot of things now. It's nothing the government did, exactly, it's something that just happened. I'm not mentally twelve anymore, but I am your son - period. That's all I can say."
"I don't like this, David." Dad said with such a serious tone that I almost laughed.
"I don't like it at times, either, Dad." I agreed with him, and his look softened as he glanced back at me. "I'm your son as much now as I was before anything happened."
"Somehow I believe you." Dad said and then reached over to turn up the Beach Boys music. That was his signal that he needed to think things over and I looked back out the window. We were through Stockton now and passing the farm fields between the valley town and Sacramento, the capitol of California.
Dad's question seemed to strike a resonance inside of me. Who was I? What was my purpose in life, or at least in this life? Part of me wanted to yell at Dad to turn the truck around, go back to Modesto and rush into Brian's arms to claim him as mine. But he was twelve again, not the adult lover I knew. Only a fool would believe the Chinese time traveler problem or the Shevardnadze problem would be solved without some direct involvement by me, and things in Modesto were too strained for me to dedicate the time necessary to the task while leading anything close to a normal life. It would be far easier to do that in the rural Nevada town.
The last time around, I'd chosen the love of my life over my family, and had paid a price for that. Mom and Jenny had died before I turned eighteen. I'd fought in a World War, and given the order to use nuclear weapons. I'd fought in a second war with the Chinese, and then led a Special Forces team into a time travel facility they'd built from stolen secret plans. Was I doomed to forever repeat the time between 1981 and 2004? Did the fact that I'd been so selfish in the last time line mean I was doomed to repeat it again?
The concept of the rest of my life without Brian was unacceptable though. I knew from my original life that without me around, he'd not fallen in love until he was sixteen. That meant I had four years to get back to Modesto and claim his heart. This trip would only delay that, not prevent it from happening. A teenager wouldn't have gone with that thought because four years seems like forever when you're this young. Yet, I wasn't this young in memory, and I knew four years would pass by in the blink of an eye.
I knew there was no reason I couldn't have my cake and eat it too, if I worked hard enough for that privilege.
When we stopped in Sacramento, Dad barely said a word as he got out to fill the truck with gas. The next phase of our trip would be to head East on Interstate 80 up to Reno. It was already three in the afternoon, and since we wouldn't be stopping again until Reno, I got several bottles of juices, water, and some snack food to tide us over. We got back into the truck and he took off again.
"Did you get Dr. Pepper?" Dad asked and I had to smile as I dug out a bottle for him. I loved the soda too, but was doing a good job limiting my intake like I had in the last lifetime. "We'll stop in Reno for dinner, even though it'll be late."
"That's what I figured." I said. "We left just after one, so it'll be about eight by the time we get there. If we leave around nine that means we'll make Fallon around one-thirty in the morning. If you're still able to drive, we should make Eureka around six in the morning."
"You've been looking at a map, haven't you?" Dad asked with a wide smile and I just nodded. Actually I was speaking from knowledge of our first drive out there, but he didn't need to know that. It had been two lifetimes ago, though, and everything about that time was a little fuzzy. I couldn't quite remember the full names of people I'd known, and then we'd moved during my freshman year, not my seventh grade year.
The city of Sacramento and its suburbs faded into foothill scrub as we headed north and east on Interstate 80. The Sierra Nevada mountain range was beautifully green at this time of year, but I preferred the snowy whiteness of winter. That was one good point about making this trip in July instead of September - no chance of snow blocking our way. Dad turned up the tape player again and this time we were listening to one his Christian music tapes.
We reached Reno almost exactly at eight p.m. Dad managed to find a parking space for the large truck and we walked to the El Dorado casino, where he led the way up to the restaurant for a good dinner. We'd been here a few times. Even though Dad was a preacher, Mom loved to play the slot machines and he let her indulge in that once in a while. Dad did enjoy the trips up here, though it was usually to see a band or other group play at a casino that he had grown up with as well as to enjoy a good meal. Over dinner, Dad talked mostly about the road ahead and what he expected when we reached our new house. I just nodded in agreement with him, eager to not upset him at all.
We pulled out of Reno just after nine at night, with the sun having just set over the western horizon. Dad had changed the tape to the Oakridge Boys and I found myself nodding off before we'd even passed through Sparks. I slept for what must have been close to four hours because we were past Fallon when I felt the truck swerve slightly and then pull to a stop.
"What's wrong?" I asked sleepily as Dad brought the truck to a stop near the side of the road.
"I'm tired." Dad replied with a heavy sigh. "I stopped for gas in Fallon and coffee, but I keep nodding off."
"I can drive." I offered sleepily, looking at the dash clock and seeing it was just past one in the morning.
"Don't be silly." Dad said around a wide yawn. Outside it was dark and quiet, the way it can only be when you are miles and miles from the nearest habitation. Highway 50, the highway we were on, was deserted as well, with no vehicles in sight.
"Dad, I'm serious, I can do it no problem." I reasserted even though I was fully awake. I didn't cherish the idea of being parked alongside the road.
"Yeah, right, you're only twelve." Dad reminded me acerbically and I let out a small chuckle.
"Dad, the road is fairly straight from here to Austin, which is like two hours away." I argued quietly. "I can drive in a straight line. There's no ice on the road, there's no big turns until we get to Austin and we climb Austin Peak. You can sleep until we get there and either stay the night in that town, or if you're awake enough, you can drive over the Peak."
"Son, I know I've let you drive the car in the parking lot, but this is a huge truck, and we're towing my pickup." Dad reminded me and I smiled.
"Trust me, Dad." I said calmly. "Watch me for the first few miles and if you see any problems, we'll pull over."
"Okay." Dad said with a heavy sigh after he yawned again. We switched places and I kept my mouth shut as he gave me 'directions' on how to start the truck and to make sure the mirrors were adjusted properly. Ten minutes later we were on the road and I was picking up speed. Dad almost freaked when a car came up behind us and then passed us, but calmed down. He kept insisting I keep to fifty-five, and I did until he nodded off. Then I accelerated to sixty-five and kept it there.
At twelve years old, I was five-foot six and weighed one hundred and twenty pounds. Many adults were near that size, so I had no problem driving the truck. To be honest, my little nap didn't help all that much in staying awake, but I was a lot better off than Dad, who snored the entire way.
The small town of Austin was set at the western base of Mt. Austin, the highest mountain along this stretch of Highway. The highway was hard-driving up and down, because of the large amount of switchbacks and curves. I had promised Dad to wake him, but I was wide-awake by this point, and he was still snoring, so I took the truck over the mountain. It was slow going for most of the way, with me rarely getting out of second gear, but I found it to be a very enjoyable challenge.
Two and half hours later, the sun was coming over the eastern horizon and Dad chose that moment to wake up. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed him sit up and look around with sleep-blurred eyes. I knew he was seeing the relatively straight highway going downhill from a low mountain and large valley in front of us. On the horizon, another mountain range rose up, blocking the sun's arrival but not hiding the deep purple of impending dawn in the sky above.
"That looks like Diamond Peak." Dad muttered with a warning glare at me.
"I was wide awake, you were snoring." I said with a shrug and a smile.
"Well, we made it okay." Dad finally said with a shrug and I let out a sigh of relief. He wasn't going to chastise me for not stopping in Austin. "You better pull over so I can finish the drive."
"Sure thing." I agreed with him and began to slow down until I pulled over on to the gravel shoulder of the road. When we got out to switch places, I really had to empty the bladder, so I peed into the high desert. It was a cool morning and felt real nice after having driven for the last few hours. When I got back in the truck, Dad had already started it and pulled out onto the highway quickly. Twenty minutes later we turned onto Highway 278 and headed north.
"This is Diamond Valley we're in now." Dad said softly as we passed Third Street. "The church is on Seventh Street. Eureka's actually further up US-50. Each of the streets out here are a mile apart."
"I've seen the map." I stated softly as I looked out over the flat landscape. To the east was ten thousand feet high Diamond Peak; to the west was nothing but sagebrush. Between 278 and Diamond Peak were acres and acres of alfalfa farms. Unlike similar farms in California, these were large, circular plots of land. Each had a metal framework of sprinklers that stretched from a central well to the outer end of the field. They'd slowly rotate around the field until they had watered each inch over a twenty-four hour period.
"The church is on land donated by one of the farmers, David Barnes. His family owns most of the land around the church area, and they pretty much founded it in the first place." Dad explained as we continued down the highway. It was pretty much all stuff I knew from before, but would be new to me now. "His sons Matthew and Lloyd own the two farms between the highway and the church on Seventh. They're on the South side. The Meyers are on the north side and they go to the church as well. Then there's the Listers. They live about a half-mile north of the church. The Deacons live a half-mile east right across from the Browns. The Browns aren't church members and Mr. Deacon is actually the church deacon as well as the janitor at the high school. Then the Davenports live about a mile past them on the south side while Mr. Davenport's parents live on the north side of the road. Then it's Highway 46 and nothing but sagebrush up until you hit the foothills of the mountains."
"Sounds nice." I said when he'd paused. I also remembered that Mr. Barnes lived a mile to the south of us on Barnes Road (most of the North/South roads were named for the families that lived on them). His sons were in their late twenties with small kids just entering grade school. The Meyers had two sons, both of whom would be in the second grade, as was the son of the Browns. The Deacons didn't have any kids still living in the area, they'd already graduated and moved off. The younger Davenports had two sons, one who was a year younger than me, and another who was two years younger.
When we reached Seventh Street, Dad turned right and headed towards the church. I was surprised to notice the beginning of a new road heading off to the west. That must be the road for the new air force facility. We passed a house about a half-mile from the highway, on the south side. In the field beyond it, a man on a tractor waved at us and I instinctively waved back.
"That'd be Matthew Barnes." Dad noted. A mile later we passed another house, which like the first one was really a doublewide trailer elevated slightly so that it sat on a partial basement. We waved to the man on a tractor who was Lloyd Barnes and continued on to the church and parsonage. The church was a dual-level building that ran east-west. The parsonage was also a dual-level building but it ran northwest to southeast and was surrounded by green grass instead of a gravel parking lot. Between the two was a small, single-level tool shed. All three were dark brown in color and had several wide windows.
"Not too bad at all." I said as Dad pulled up in front of the house. The first fifteen feet was gravel for parking.
"There's a big porch on the back side that you'll like." Dad stated as he opened the door to the truck. I followed him as he led the way to the house. I had to stop and stretch a bit. To say that I was tired would have been basically honest, but I was nowhere near ready to sleep. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and the crisp morning air held a freshness to it that sang of work to be done. The entrance to the house actually came out a little bit from the rest of the house.
When Dad unlocked the door, I was amazed at how much newer the place smelled then I remembered from my very first lifetime. Of course, the house had just been finished, along with the new church building, the previous winter. From the entryway, a stairway led forward and down to the basement. I knew without looking that it would be bare, with an iron wood-fired heater, a water heater, and just basic insulation. The church ran out of money to fix it up and even when we'd originally moved there three years from now, it still had not been completed. The church basement was more complete, but still not totally done. A short landing off to the left led to the stairs that connected to the upper level. Here, the work was almost all done.
The first room was the living room. It was a long, wide room that looked bare at the moment. Electric heaters ran along the floorboards for winter. This was the high desert, and could get as cold as forty below zero in the winter. Off to the right and towards the other side of the house was the smallish dining area and kitchen that ran the length of the interior parallel to the living room. On the other side of the dining area was the sliding glass door that led to the wooden porch that was big enough for ten people to sit comfortably and barbecue.
"The bedrooms are to the right." Dad said as we moved into the living room. He led me down the hallway. The first room on the left was about as big as my old room and was for Jenny. The room on the right was mine, and had the added nicety of a cubbyhole in the closet. I knew I'd be storing a bunch of junk in there, and it would leave more room for living once I got my king-size waterbed in here. That would come in handy as well on those cold winter nights. Just beyond the bedrooms were the bathroom on the left and then the master bedroom on the right. It had its own bathroom, so only Jenny and I would share the one in the hallway. All the windows were double-paned and after showing me where everything was, Dad turned to me and spoke with a tired smile. "You ready to get the truck unloaded? If we do it quick enough we can get to sleep early and then return it in the morning."
"Sounds good to me." I answered him easily and he clapped me on the back as we headed back downstairs and outside. The first order of business would be to unhitch Dad's blue Mazda pick-up truck. Before we could do that though, an old beat-up pick-up pulled up from the east, and three people got out. The driver was lean and balding, of medium height and in his mid-fifties. With him were two tall teenagers. The first was fairly well-built and had dark, unruly hair. The second was tall as well, and also had dark hair, but he was painfully thin and had thick glasses.
"Howdy there, preacher." The older man said in a friendly manner, coming up to shake Dad's hand.
"Hello, Vernon." Dad greeted the man warmly.
"We saw your truck pull up and thought we'd come by and invite you to breakfast." Vernon Deacon said warmly. "This here must be your son."
"Yep, Davey, this is Vernon Deacon, the church's deacon." Dad introduced us and I moved forward to shake the man's hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." I said firmly, almost as firmly as the handshake between us.
"It's good to meet you, son." Vernon Deacon said kindly, grinning widely and then turned to introduce the younger guys with him - although I already knew them from my first lifetime. "This here's my nephew Mike and his brother Scott."
"Davey." I introduced myself first to Mike, the older, more well-built teenager, shaking his hand firmly and then moving on to Scott. Scott's grip was definitely weaker and he was relatively shy.
"So, you're in the seventh grade?" Mike asked and I nodded in affirmation. "That's cool, Scotty here is in the eighth. I'm a sophomore, but we all go to the same school. It's seventh through twelfth grade and there's ninety-three students, well ninety-four including you."
"That's kind of cool." I stated neutrally and got a smile for my efforts.
"Davey, let's get the truck unhitched and we'll drive down to the Deacons' place." Dad said firmly and I nodded.
"It's no problem, Mr. Jones, we'll get it." Mike said as he bumped me with his shoulder to indicate that I should join him. Dad just smiled and threw me the keys. It took us just a few minutes before we had the truck unhitched and ready to go. Dad spent those minutes chatting with Mr. Deacon and when we came back over he nodded in approval.
"After we eat, the boys and I will help you get your moving truck unloaded." Vernon Deacon said in a friendly manner. "My sister sends them out to help when we get near harvest time, but Scott usually stays and helps out with the store."
"Mom and Dad own the town's General Store." Mike said to me in an effort to start up some conversation.
"That's pretty cool." I said in an effort to be polite. I'd forgotten how good-looking Mike was, and he was a pretty good guy, if a little messed up in the head at times. He had a temper, if I remembered correctly and a tendency towards light fingers around other people's possessions, but still he was a good guy.
"Okay, let's get going." Mr. Deacon's voice caused us to jump a little as I had found myself staring into his hazel eyes a bit longer than maybe I should have. I didn't blush though as I got into the truck with Dad and we followed them to breakfast.
Mrs. Deacon seemed happy that we'd made the trip safely and fed us a big breakfast. After we'd all eaten our fill, we drove back to the church and began unloading the truck. Scott wasn't much help beyond lifting a few boxes, but Mike and I managed to get everything unloaded ourselves. Mike liked to work out on the weight set in his Uncle's work shed. We even got into a small competition to see who could get stuff unloaded faster, and by lunch time the moving truck was empty. By that time, the Barnes families had shown up, and we had an impromptu lunch in the dining room. Most of the boxes were still packed, but the furniture was all in place. After lunch, Mike stayed to help us set up the water beds while most of the other people left to see to their fields or own homes. The Barnes women were excitedly looking forward to Mom and Jenny getting here in a few days and chatted about little else.
"Man, I've never seen a water bed before." Mike commented as we started to assemble mine. "This thing is huge."
"Yeah, my grandma bought it for me four years ago." I informed him.
"What's it like to sleep on?" He asked.
"It's pretty cool." I answered. "You'll have to stay over once it's warmed up."
"That's a deal." Mike responded with a friendly smile and I almost found myself blushing.
For dinner, we joined the Deacons' again at their home. It was fried chicken with all the fixings, and quite good. After dinner, Dad and I returned to the house and settled in for the night. The waterbed was filled, but it still was awful cold so I slept on the top of the covers. As usual though, my last thoughts before slipping into sleep were about Brian and how much I missed him.
As with all my stories, E provides immeasurable input, grammar checking, and all those other lovely editing thingies that make the story so much better!
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