LOVE LASTS FOR ETERNITY
Chapter Thirteen

Jack's POV

I looked around the station, noticing how little it had changed in five years. The same pine trees lined the country roads. The same signposts led to the same places. The only thing that had changed was the way I felt about the place.

Throughout my childhood, I had thought of it as a wonderful place, a wild country village miles from any city, with beautiful scenery--a place where humans lived side by side with nature. I had told myself I never wanted to leave.

After my parents died, I had no longer thought of it as a place of peace and happiness, but as a place of painful memories and sadness. I swore then that I would never come back to this place. I'd left the day after the funeral, with less than a sack full of possessions and ten dollars in my pocket. My parents' deaths had taught me that life was too short to waste, so I left, deciding not to rest until I had seen it all. I had left intending never to set eyes on Chippewa Falls again.

And yet, here I was, standing on the platform of the train station in the town that held so much sadness, with my one true love, our canine companion, two full suitcases, and a pocket full of enough money to support us and our unborn child. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought this was how I would return--if I would return at all.

We walked out of the station and down the road to the center of the small town. We were passed by several people on horses and a few more people walking with dogs. I didn't recognize any of them, but they all nodded and said hello; Chippewa Falls had always been a friendly community. Honey seemed scared of these dogs and hid from them, but on the whole, she seemed a lot more relaxed in the quiet countryside. Rose looked delighted to see the country. I guessed she hadn't seen much of the country, what with her high society life and uptight mother. To show her a bit more of the wildlife, I decided to take a detour over a fence and down a forested hill to Lake Wissota.

That, too, was the same as I remembered. The same wooden dock, the same flock of Canada geese, the same small island in the middle of the lake. The lake itself was surrounded by forest. Quite often, people would come down to the lake for the day and photograph the wild animals that used the lake as a drinking ground. Rose looked in awe at the vast crystal blue waters. We were in luck today. There were a couple of deer drinking from the lake.

"Oh, they're so beautiful!" Rose gasped when she saw them. Even though seeing them was no surprise to me, I had to admit that they were beautiful creatures. We watched them for a while, until they finally bounded off into the woods. Honey crept towards the water, dipped a paw in, and jumped back, startled at the coldness of it. The water was never warm until the height of summer. Honey shook her paw wildly, shaking off the wet stuff, and walked away. I made a mental note to add water to her ever-growing list of fears. There weren't many people around today. The whole area was tranquil and peaceful. I stared out at the lake, taking in the beauty of it. I could pinpoint the exact location where I had fallen through the ice all those years ago, though the lake wasn't iced over this April. It mainly froze over in November and melted in April. People would spend all day ice fishing out there and the market stalls were always full of fish, people calling out, "Caught fresh straight from Wissota!" to the potential buyers.

We finally climbed back up the hill and over the fence and continued along the road. Finally, we approached the town's center. I'd forgotten how busy it could get on market day. We were nearly trampled by the stampede of bargain hunters. Poor Honey was scared out of her wits. It took ten minutes to calm her down after nearly being trodden on by a horse. We made our way towards the boarding house, hoping that there would be an available room. When I left, it had been run by Mrs. Ryan, a friendly Irishwoman with a cheery personality.

The house hadn't changed either, except for a new coat of paint and a new door. Inside, I was glad to see that Mrs. Ryan was still there, cheery as ever, chatting with a man I remembered as Mr. Thompson, the owner of a local truck farm. His farm was a major source of the local supply of vegetables, fruit, and some meat. He had always been a bit full of himself and didn't hesitate to make it clear to us all how successful he was. He would claim to have friends in high places, only half of which we believed. He was now boasting away to Mrs. Ryan about a big deal he had struck.

"I tell you, it will make me the most successful man to set foot in Chippewa Fall, Mrs. Ryan. I can see the money this deal will bring me right before me."

Mrs. Ryan nodded and smiled politely, but I could tell she was getting a bit sick of Mr. Thompson. Her eyes brightened when she was us.

"Jack!" she said delightedly. "Well, you're the last person I'd expect to see back here!" She pulled me into a tight hug before I could dodge away and damned near suffocated me. I used to called her the constrictor when I was little. She finally let me go and turned to Rose. "And who's this?" she asked me.

"This is Rose," I replied. "The love of my life," I added proudly. Mrs. Ryan pulled Rose into a hug. Rose looked desperate for air by the time Mrs. Ryan let her go.

Mr. Thompson looked surprised to see me, too. "So, you decided to come back, then?" he asked stiffly. I nodded, equally stiffly. "I see you still haven't made anything of yourself."

I sighed. That was typical of him. If he had his way, every five-year-old would be lectured about the economy and business tactics. He looked down on anyone who wasn't a successful businessman. I turned to Mrs. Ryan.

"Mrs. Ryan, have you got any rooms available?"

"Hmm…yes, I do have one available. It's normally five dollars a week, but I'll let you have it for three dollars." I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up her hand. "No arguments. I'm just glad to see you're back," she said. Then she noticed Honey. "I see you've got yourself a dog, too? I'm fine with dogs in the house, so long as she's housetrained, that is."

"Oh, she is. She's very clean," said Rose.

Mrs. Ryan nodded. "That's good. I'll show you upstairs."

She led us up to the second floor, to a room that was perfect for us. It was just the right size and had a lovely view of the market. Mrs. Ryan even said she had one or two old dog beds somewhere for Honey to sleep in.

She finally left us to settle in and went down to start on supper. Rose and I unpacked and put away our things.

"So, what do you think?" I asked Rose.

"I love it!" she said happily. "I love the whole town. Everyone's so friendly here, except that Mr. Thompson downstairs. He seemed quite rude and arrogant to me."

"Yeah. He's always been like that. He owns a large farm. He seems to think that it makes him lord of the town and we should worship at his feet. He and Cal would get on like a house on fire." Rose tensed a little. I cursed myself for bringing up Cal. "Rose, we're safe here. He won't find us. Hardly anybody who doesn't have family or friends here knows me. There's no way he'll track us down."

"I know that," she said quietly, her body tensing noticeably. She turned deathly pale in the face and stared at the floor. She drew in short, shallow breaths, like she was trying not to faint. It looked to me like she was terrified.

I walked over to her and put my arms around her. "Rose, it's all right. You don't have to be scared anymore." She jerked away from me suddenly. I stared at her, shocked. "Rose, please, what's wrong?" I asked.

"I--I think I'm going to--"

She suddenly darted to the bathroom, her hand clamped over her mouth, and slammed the door. I could hear her throwing up violently.

*****

Later that night, we went downstairs for dinner with Mrs. Ryan. We talked about various things as we ate generous helpings of shepherd's pie. I told her about everything I had done and improvised about meeting Rose, just saying we'd met on the Titanic, leaving out details. She stared at us in shock when we mentioned the Titanic.

"Oh, you poor things, going through something as dreadful as that," she said sympathetically. "I myself am going out of my mind with worry over the Titanic. My grandson, Tommy, was meant to be coming over to America on it, and I haven't heard a thing from him."

I nearly choked on my food at the mention of Tommy. I couldn't believe they were related. What were the chances of that? I dreaded the thought that I would have to tell her that her grandson was dead, but it would have to be done. It was only fair that she knew.

I practiced in my head and finally said, "Mrs. Ryan, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Tommy didn't survive. His name was on the list of the dead."

I said it as gently as I could. Her fork fell from her hand and tears welled up in her big brown eyes. Rose put her arm around her shoulders comfortingly.

"We're so sorry," she said gently. "He was a good man. He didn't deserve to die."

"I can't believe it! He was so looking forward to coming to America. He'd never left Ireland before."

"Mrs. Ryan, before he died, he was so good that night. He convinced the steward to open the gates and let a few women get through. His death wasn't meant to happen, but it was quicker than most of the others' deaths," I said.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"He--he was shot by an officer by mistake," I said. Fabrizio had told me how it happened. I just felt glad that the officer, Murdoch, had committed suicide after that.

After dinner, I went back upstairs to give Honey her dinner and take her outside for a bathroom break. She wolfed down her scraps of chicken with gravy without having to worry about it being stolen by her siblings. She licked the gravy off of the inside of the bowl eagerly and licked her mouth clean. Then I clipped her leash on and took her out for a quick walk.

It was getting dark by now, but it was still light enough to see everything clearly. I decided to walk up to a place I had sworn I would never go again--Goose Creek Farm.

I felt a little nervous as I walked with Honey up the dirt road towards the farm. I wondered what it would look like. When I'd left, it had been a burnt down mess, black and filthy. The roof had collapsed and the whole thing had looked like a huge bonfire. I prayed it wouldn't look like that now.

As we got closer, I got a huge shock as we walked past the fields. I was barely paying attention to the animals that occupied them, and was surprised when I was jerked back by my hair. I turned around and saw a huge black head staring right at me. It was Thunder, my horse. He had recognized me instantly, even after so long. I had thought he and the other animals had been sold off after I'd left and was amazed to see him still there. I estimated that he was about nine years old by now.

"Hey, old friend," I said quietly, looking into his warm eyes as I stroked his head. "Didn't expect to see you again. Guess you didn't expect to see me, either. I can't believe you're still here."

He gazed at me and gave a soft snort. I felt his familiar warm breath on my face. He seemed to understand every word I said. I'd hated leaving him behind when I left. I knew there was no way I could take him with me. Another farmer who lived on Woodbridge Farm assured me when I left that he would be well looked after. I assumed that he would be sold off with the two cows and thirty or so sheep. I was glad to see Thunder was still here.

Without thinking, I climbed over the fence between us, avoiding the barbed wire, and into the field. I lifted Honey over the fence after me. She sniffed Thunder's hoof and backed away when he lowered his huge head to sniff her. I ran my hand down his smooth black neck and along his back. Without thinking, I swung my leg over his back and climbed on. He didn't jump or seemed startled. He obviously remembered me and was comfortable with me. I bent over and lifted Honey up onto him, holding her steady between my legs. I wrapped her leash tightly around my wrist and pressed my heels into Thunder's sides.

It felt good to gallop on horseback again. I loved the rhythm of his swift movements. It felt wonderful. Honey seemed startled and confused at first, but soon got used to it and relaxed, though she clutched my leg with her paws in a death grip. She even began to enjoy it after a few minutes.

"Oy! What're you doin' on my land? Get off that horse now!"

The angry voice startled me. I turned Thunder around to see an old farmer running towards us, pointing a rifle. He looked furious. I smiled as I recognized him as the same farmer who'd promised me my horse would be taken care of. So, he’d meant that he would look after Thunder, I realized. As he got nearer, his facial expression turned from angry to surprised as he realized it was me.

"Jack!" he shouted delightedly. "'Bout time you came back! I see you've found Thunder quick enough. I said he'd be looked after."

I rode over and dismounted, setting Honey back onto the ground. She seemed all too happy to be back on solid ground again.

"So, what brings you back?" asked the farmer, whose name was Jim.

"Long story," I said. "I can't really tell you all of it, but I'm here with my girlfriend, Honey--" I indicated Honey, who was sniffing the grass inquisitively. "--and our unborn child." Jim raised his eyebrows.

"And you and this girl are unmarried?" he asked. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Well, yes, for now," I said awkwardly. "But I'm planning to propose soon. When that'll be, I don't know yet."

"Ah…I see. What's her name, then?"

"Rose."

"No last name?"

I thought quickly. Giving away Rose's last name could prove disastrous. "Um…Rose Smith," I said quickly, saying the first name that came to me.

"Nice name, that. So, you planning to stay on here?"

"We don't know yet. Depends what happens, really. Sorry. It's complicated."

"Well, if you do, your parents' place was rebuilt after you left."

I felt a little bit of happiness inside me. At least when I went up there, I wouldn't see the burnt remains.

"Thanks. I'll bear that in mind," I said. "I was actually going up there now. Guess I'll see you around, then."

"See you later, then."

We shook hands and Jim walked back across the field. I said good-bye to Thunder, climbed back over the fence, and carried on towards the farm.

After about ten minutes, I finally saw the house in the distance and the farmland surrounding it. The barn had also been rebuilt, almost exactly the way it had been before the fire. The blaze had originated in the barn and the strong winds that night had blown the flames towards the house. The three paddocks we had owned were the same as they used to be. They hadn't been affected by the blaze, and the only thing missing from them were the animals that had occupied them. They had been sold off, as nobody had been there to look after them. Nobody had bought the rebuilt farm and it had remained untouched since the building had been completed.

The house itself was almost exactly the same as the original one. The same red brick, the same light brown slate roof, the same open wooden porch. Around the side of the house was the chicken pen, which had also been replaced. The coop was unnaturally lacking chickens pecking at the ground. In fact, the whole thing was unnaturally quiet. There was no indication that this land had ever been occupied. It was still, empty, and lifeless.

I turned away from the house and began walking back down the road. I had seen all there was to see--an empty, lifeless house with no signs of people whatsoever. Even the fields were empty. If we did decide to stay here, we would probably move into the house, and at least then it wouldn't be empty. It would look and feel a whole lot better once it was occupied.

By the time Honey and I got back to the boarding house, the sun had set and the sky was a rich, dark navy blue, punctured by millions of bright stars. It was beautiful. It was one of the things I had missed about this place--dark, starlit skies. You just didn't get them in cities. There were too many buildings and too much smoke in the way to see the skies, which always seemed permanently smog gray. This was much more beautiful. The whole area made me realize that no matter what memories it held, Chippewa Falls was the perfect place to raise a family.

Chapter Fourteen
Stories