Back To Our Beginning by C. L. Scholey Read Free Book Online

out she was smoking. Her mind raced. Where was the memory? It would be her last. But the memory wouldn’t come. She knew she’d been difficult of late. Shanie’s realization made her head bow into her hands feeling overwhelming devastation. There’d be no more memories.
    A hand on Shanie’s shoulder made her look up. She expected it to be her mother but it was Chris. He sat down beside her. With deep sincerity and red saddened eyes bright with his tears he said, “Your father was a good man.”
    Moist eyes mirrored moist eyes. Amidst the suffering, below the superficial animosity, one aching heart reached for another. Their pain intertwined and a tentative bond formed.
    “Yours too,” Shanie whispered. “Yours too.”
    * * * *
    “We need to move while we still can,” Tansy said.
    Tansy had gone outside, no more than a few blocks alone into the city, much to the fear of the others. She realized what Shane had tried to explain. Tansy set out the next morning, soon after she, Marge, Shanie and Chris retrieved Sam’s body with a wheelbarrow. They dug shallow graves in her backyard for the men, lined with plastic bags. Tansy couldn’t stand the thought of her beloved husband resting in a puddle of mud. They took great pains to rid the holes of moisture, battling the relentless elements.
    In Tansy’s fury she couldn’t help but feel the rain was one of Mother Nature’s taunts, spitting on their efforts. Their bodies were wrapped in thick quilts, pillows for their heads. Each of the children placed a favorite memento beside their fathers. Tansy added a family picture she tucked into Shane’s embrace next to his heart. Their eulogy was brief, but filled with heart wrenching sorrow.
    Tansy decided to set out and see what Shane and Sam wanted to protect them from. She wandered at first in a grief struck stupor, but all too soon her eyes cleared. The horrors around her couldn’t be denied. Each step brought her closer to town and the unmistakable realization the city was flooding, the waters were rising before her eyes, her feet sloshing about. Their destruction, if they didn’t move fast, was imminent. That they’d survived this long was nothing short of a miracle.
    “We should stay,” Marge said.
    Marge was following Tansy as she darted back and forth packing what they could carry, what she deemed most important.
    “It’s too dangerous out there,” Marge continued. She wrung her hands and bobbed and danced from one foot to the other. Looking at her, Tansy thought she resembled some type of walking bird—bob in weave out, in-out-back-and-forth, turn and look, begin again. Tansy reached out and grasped at Marge’s hand to still her.
    “Yes, it’s very dangerous out there.”
    Marge whimpered. Since the death of Sam, Marge seemed the essence of indecision. She was a shell of a woman, looking to everyone, anyone for guidance. Decisions were too far from her grasp. Marge was completely helpless without the authority of her husband. Sam hadn’t done her any favors by taking care of everything.
    “Mom,” Chris said. He came over and led his mother away so Tansy and Emmy could continue packing.
    “Sit here for a while.” Chris sat her down on cushions they’d taken from the couch and piled up in a corner close to the fire.
    “Why don’t you tell Michaela about the story of the birds that came to watch in the window while you learned to bake pies? I love that story of you and your mom, Mrs. Market,” Shanie said.
    “The birds,” Marge began, looking lost and alone. “My mother used to tell me my voice was so sweet the birds stopped singing to listen to me. It’s not really, of course, not now, but Sam used to say it’s what made him notice me.”
    Chris smiled at her with encouragement. Before long she stroked his cheek and smiled back.
    “Thank you,” she whispered. “Tansy needs our help.”
    * * * *
    The decision to leave the relative safety of the basement was a hard one. Their plan was to head