ASCENSION (9 page)

              Mary nodded. “I told you. Bessie makes the best butter on Earth.”

              Sophie smiled. Mary was a sweet girl. Smart too, in a rustic sort of way. She knew much more about food than Sophie already, and she was only eight years old. Looking in her big eyes made Sophie's heart swell with warmth. It was a melancholy sweetness, it ached, but so wonderfully. It nearly made Sophie cry. Why did her mother die? Why did bad things always happen to good people?

              The final task was milling the grains. Which was very difficult. Mary used a rolling pin and a wooden slab to crush the grains into powder. That was how they made flour, she explained. The process took quite some time and produced very little flour for your troubles. Sophie didn't mind, though. It was nice spending time with Mary. The task was repetitive, but soothing. She felt peaceful, her mind clear, crisper than it had been in a long time, maybe ever. No longer was it plagued by the visions, muddled by an unending stream of information. The turbulent waters of her mind went still.

              “Mary, can I ask you something?” Sophie said as they cleaned up after themselves and made their way to the kitchen, ready to prepare their meal with their hard-earned ingredients.

              “Sure.” Mary shrugged. “Anything.”

              “What was your mom like?”

              Mary looked up from the bowl where she was mixing eggs, her face scrunched in concentration. “It's hard to remember. I remember what she looked like, kind of. She was very pretty, and had a nice smile. She took us to church a lot, too. We would go every Wednesday and Sunday, for morning and afternoon service.”

              “Oh,” Sophie said. “Do you still go?”

              Mary shook her head. “No. When Mom died, Dad just kinda stopped doing everything. We used to go to a big pot luck in the town square every month, too, but Dad stopped going to that, too.”

              Sophie frowned. “I'm sorry. Maybe we could go one day.”

              Mary's eyes lit up like the Fourth of July. “You mean it?”

              Sophie felt a twinge of apprehension. An event like that was a lot of commitment, and the potential for a lot of eyes. That's when Sophie remembered who she was, what she was. Her past wasn't a spot, but a stain. There was no removing it. It was as impossible as bringing Mary's mother back. Some scars stay with you forever.

              “How did your mom die?” Sophie asked.

              The hot pan sizzled as Mary dumped the eggs in it. “I didn't see it,” Mary said. “But Zack told me she just kind of fell one day. In the field, while she was bringing lemonade to my dad. The doctor said it was something called an aneurism. He said it's where your brain just stops working right one day. He said it could happen to anyone, at any time, for no reason. When Dad found out how she died, he got really angry. He called Dr. Hoffman a quack. Whatever than means. They haven't talked for a long time actually, not until you guys came along. Dr. Hoffman was the one who looked at your friend. He's a nice man, helped me a lot when I got chicken pox. I think Dad stopped blaming Dr. Hoffman, though.”

              “Well, that's good,” Sophie said, adding water to the flour.

              “Yeah.” Mary nodded. “I think he blames God now.”

              Sophie gasped. “Mary! Don't say that.”

              Mary shrugged. “It's true. He thinks God took Mom from him. To punish him for something. His past, I guess.”

              “That's ridiculous,” Sophie said. “I hope he will realize that your mom's death was no one’s fault. This stuff just happens.”

              Mary shook her head. “No. Everything happens for a reason. That's what Dad says.”

              Soon, the pancakes were ready and the table was set. One plate stacked with a steamy pile of them, another with eggs and some bacon Mary had pulled from the cellar. Besides each plate was a tall glass of milk, fresh from the cow. Sophie knew, because she had milked it herself.

              Sophie sighed in satisfaction as she admired her handiwork. It had taken all morning, but she felt like she truly accomplished something.

              “They should be here any minute now,” Mary said. Only moments later, as if by magic, Sophie heard a jostling at the door knob outside. Sophie looked at Mary in awe.
Just who was the one who could see the future here?
she wondered.

Chapter 6

(Sophie)

              A week had passed since Sophie and Jake had set foot in Ben Campbell's humble abode. It didn't seem like it. Out here, in the endless fields of snow, time seemed to stand still. Even her gift seemed to sleep. She hadn't been plagued by a vision or a dream in days. Though, there was often quite a bit of work that needed to be done around the house: cooking, cleaning, and stocking. Sophie had come to expect it, and maybe even to look forward to it.

              What she looked forward to most, though, was breakfast. It was the only time of the day where everyone was at the same table, and though the menu didn't change often, it didn't really need to. Sophie looked at the clock. It was 9:30am. The boys were running late. The food was getting cold. She missed Jake, she realized, startled. She missed his half-cocked smirk and his devil-may-cry attitude. The same traits she had hated about him only days before. She tried to stop the aching in her heart, to smother it, but her mind was too preoccupied with envisioning his smile. The twinkle in his eye. The one you could only see briefly, when his guard went down a bit. Finally, Sophie heard the doorknob jostle.

              Jake and Zack came through it, covered in snow, cheeks flushed red.

              “It was amazing!” Zack said. “Everything you taught me just came rushing back. It was just like you said. The big guys get tired fast. So I danced around him for a while, waited for his form to drop a bit. Then bam! Caught him right in the chin. Lights out,” Zack said, throwing a slow motion hook at his shadow.

              Jake laughed, but the grin fell when he saw Sophie's face. “Where have you two been?” she asked, her eyes pillars of flame.

              “Zack had his first boxing match today,” Jake said defensively.

              “He was fighting?” she asked, horrified.

              “Relax. It was a boxing match, sanctioned. His school has a ring. That's what he's been training for,” Jake explained.

              “Oh,” Sophie said. Zack spent most of his time in the barn, so Sophie scarcely saw him, and he never said more than a few words to her. She had always thought maybe he was shy, but he didn't seem to have any problems telling Jake everything and anything. “Well, did he win?”

              Jake smiled. “Look at that face. Not a scratch on it. What do you think?

              Zack grinned from ear to ear. “Jake helped me. He taught me so much. I couldn't have done it without him.”

              “Tell the truth. Jake fought for you,” Mary said, winking at Sophie. Sophie couldn't help but giggle.

              Zack frowned. “Oh come on, sis, don't be like that. Look, I got something for you.” Zack reached into his pocket and handed Mary a silver locket. “I bought it with the prize money.”

              Mary turned to butter. “Aww, but why? You know you didn't have to.” She hugged him.

              Zack smirked. “Well, I wanted to let you know I appreciate your help. If you hadn't kept doing the chores and letting me train, I never would have won my fight. Besides...” Zack paused. “I didn't spend all my prize money on you,” he said with a foreboding grin. Then Zack removed his shirt and turned around. There was a massive tattoo on his back of a tiger, made to look like it was clawing out of Zack's back. Over the top, it read, “The Eye of the Tiger.”

              “Ooooooh! Dad is going to kill you,” Mary said.

              “How could you let him get a tattoo! He's not even old enough!” Sophie yelled, fuming.

              Jake laughed. “Relax. It's a henna. It will wash off in a couple of weeks.”

              The tension in Sophie's stomach slackened. Finally, she was satisfied. “Where's Ben?” she realized.

              Everyone shrugged. “I haven't seen him all morning. We didn't even cut wood today,” Jake said.

              Now Sophie was worried again. No one was as clockwork as Ben. Something was wrong. But the food was getting cold, and there was no sense in everyone having cold eggs. Sophie would just save Ben a plate.

              It wasn't until breakfast was already over that Ben showed up. He had a deep grimace on his face. He stomped into the kitchen, where Sophie was doing the dishes with Mary. He was breathing heavily, and his lips were tight. “Is something wrong?” Sophie asked.

              “Have you seen Jake?” Ben asked gruffly.

              Sophie nodded. “He's upstairs with Zack. Probably beating each other half to death.”

              Ben just grunted and went upstairs. Sophie looked at Mary, who seemed just as concerned. Only moments later, Jake and Ben were coming back down the stairs.

              “I told you I can't do that. It's for their own good,” Jake said.

              “Tell that to them!” Ben howled. “They won't stop talking about it. Pestering me for it. They aren't going to give up, Jake. So if you won't do it, you have to tell them that yourself.”

              “Tell who what?” Sophie asked. Ben only shook his head and marched out the back door. “What's going on?”

              Jake sighed. “I knew this would happen. It was only a matter of time.”

              Icy tendrils of dread ceased Sophie's stomach. “What is it?”

              “It's the townspeople,” Jake said. “The doctor told them what he saw. Just like I knew he would. Now one of their sons is sick, real sick, and they want me to fix him.”

              “Well, can you?” Sophie asked.

              Jake shook his head. “No, I can't. I don't know how to control it, and even if I did, that would be a mistake.”

              “Why? Can't the doctor do something? That's his job, isn't it?”

              Jake shook his head. “Whatever the boy has, the doctor can't fix it. Ben said the boy will die if I don't do something. That's why the doctor told the man about me. They think I'm their only hope.”

              “Well, why don't you try then, Jake? I've seen it, too. You can save him, you can heal that boy,” Sophie said.

              “No! I can't!” Jake yelled. “Don't you get it? Even if I could, even if I did, they would come, and then everyone would die. Instead of one little boy, this whole town will burn!”

              “So you're just going to let him die, then?” Sophie asked, disgusted.

              “What choice do I have? It's the lesser of two evils, Sophie. Trust me.”

              “You're just afraid. Aren't you tired of living your life in fear? Sometimes you just have to make a stand for the right thing,” Sophie insisted.

              Jake scoffed. “I know what the right thing is. It's to let that boy die, like fate intended him to!”

              “Or did fate intend for you to save him?” Sophie rebutted.

              Jake laughed harshly. “I don't know, you tell me. You're the oracle. Or are you?”

              The comment stabbed at Sophie's stomach. She had begun to doubt herself too. It had been so long since she had a vision. Had her gift left her entirely? The fact that Jake began to wonder the same thing only solidified her doubt.

              Suddenly, a man burst through the door, Ben chasing after him. The man was too fast though, and he fell on his knees at Jake's feet, fists clenched in prayer.

              “Please. You're the angel aren't you? The one Dr. Hoffman's been telling me about?” the man asked. He was thin, with a beaky nose and a bald spot. In his eyes was desperation and a glimmer of hope.

              Jake shook his head. “I'm not an angel.”

              The man looked confused. “But you can heal my boy, right? Just like you did to yourself. You can save him!” the man said, climbing to his feet.

              “Yeah, Jake, can you save him?” Sophie asked coldly.

              Jake looked at Sophie, then the man, then Ben.

              Ben shrugged. “The fool won't take no for an answer. It's his boy, though. I'd do the same.”

              “Please,” the man begged. “I'll give you anything. Money. I don't have a lot, but I'll give you as much as I can. I'll work until I can pay you off, I swear. Just please, please help my boy.” Tears began to well in the man's eyes. He wiped at them, but they only continued, running down his cheeks in rivers.

              Jake was stunned, froze  in place. The whole room was silent, hanging on his response. Jake sighed. “You have idea what you're about to get yourselves into,” he warned. “But I will try.”

              The man jumped for joy. “Oh, God bless you, sir!”

              “I can't make any promises,” Jake continued. “And there's a condition.”              “What is it? I'll do anything you want. Name it and it's yours,” the man said.

              “It has to be done privately, at night. None of the townsfolk are to know, and you can't tell a soul, not a single soul. Do you understand? I cannot emphasize enough how important it is that you say nothing.”

              The man nodded furiously, without hesitation. “Never a soul, I swear it,” the man said.

              “Good. Then give me your address, and have your boy ready at midnight tonight. That is when I will come, by cover of night,” Jake said.

              “Thank you so much,” the man said. “Ben knows where I live, dontcha Ben?”

              Ben nodded solemnly.

              “Bring no one and tell no one. Or all shall face the consequences,” Jake added darkly.