Eternal (Eternal series) (2 page)

“MOVE!”

The voice came suddenly, with enormous force and urgency, snapping Emma out of her daze.  She looked up just in time to see that she was on a collision course with a twelve ton snow plow on its return trip from the icy roads of the surrounding ski resorts. 

Her short, uneventful life flashed before her eyes as she cranked the steering wheel back toward her own lane.  The car swerved sharply, mowing down some sagebrush just off the shoulder then skidded to a stop just inches away from a rusty barbed wire fence. 

The snow plow let out a long, blaring honk as it flew past.  Emma tried to regain her stomach which was now lodged in her throat.  She drew in a deep breath and then let it out slowly in a long sigh and laid her head back against the seat.

Her life had just been saved.  If it weren’t for that voice jolting her out of her daydreams, she'd be road kill right now.

“
Well that was exciting,” she mumbled to herself.  “Thanks for not letting me get smeared across the road, whoever you are.”  She said out loud to her invisible protector.  She reached up and absently rubbed her shoulder blade.  It was actually sore, like someone had physically shoved her from behind.  That was weird, no one could have shoved her; she was alone in the car.  She must have hurt it when she’d slid off the road.

She opened the car door and stepped out noticing a Jell-O-like feeling in her legs. She knew she would need to walk that off before she got home.  She didn’t want any evidence of her little “almost accident.”  Her mom would freak out and probably ground her from driving for a month.

Suddenly she got the weird feeling that someone was watching her.  She turned and met a pair of dark eyes.

“
What are you looking at?” Emma scolded loudly.

Less than ten feet away stood a large Black Angus steer.  In a childish gesture, she stuck her tongue out at him.  He seemed to roll his cow eyes at her before going back to chomping the yellowed tuft of grass at his feet. 

She went back to inspecting the car for any damage.  Everything looked good as far as she could tell.  If there was a new scratch, it blended flawlessly with the rest of them.  She'd only missed the fence by mere inches, which was good (busting down a farmer's fence was practically a capital offense around here).  It appeared that all involved had escaped unscathed.

Emma arrived home and took one more deep breath before she shut off the engine.  Grabbing the stack of books from the passenger seat she pushed the car door open.  It complained with a rusty moan and she slammed it shut with a little more force than she should have.  She knew she was being over-dramatic. There was no reason to blame the car. Her car might not be the greatest but it was all she had.  Riding the bus would be a total nightmare.

Emma strolled around the side of the house and into the backyard where some sort of construction was taking place.

Her freckle-faced little brother, Cody, was building something out of scrap wood in the middle of the thin cement sidewalk that connected the house to the barn.  Bent nails were strewn out everywhere.

Her mom would have a hissy fit when she saw that.  They couldn’t afford to be replacing car tires.  She didn’t have the energy to play substitute parent at the moment—she had just stared death in the face after all, and was still a bit winded from it—so she let it slide this time.  Her mom would deal with it later.

"What in the heck is that thing?"  Emma said from behind Cody, startling him.  He jumped and dropped the hammer, cursing under his breath.

"Duh!  It's a bike ramp stupid," he said indignantly, pushing hair out of his eyes and scowling.  He picked the hammer back up and gave Emma an evil glare. 

Now that he mentioned it, she could tell it was a bike ramp. 

"Pretty good for a little kid," she said, not wanting to sound too impressed.  Cody was ten and did not like being referred to as a little kid.

"Hmmph" Cody replied indignantly.

"What do you want for dinner tonight you little monster?"  Emma was the designated cook at her house.  Her mom, Catherine, worked two jobs, so she wasn't home much. 

Emma absolutely hated coming up with meal plans.  There are only so many ways you can serve the same five dishes.  Nobody was fooled, she was a horrible cook. 

"I'm not eating!"  Cody said with youthful cockiness, "I have to finish this tonight!"

“
Whatever, you little worm.”

Emma walked into the house and dropped her books on the kitchen counter.  They made a loud thud reminding her just how much homework lay ahead of her this weekend. 

What a rip-off.  As far as Emma could tell, teachers had too much time on their hands.
Didn't they realize there was such a thing as life outside of school—well, for most teenagers anyway?  Emma had never been much of a socialite herself, but she was willing to put up a stink about it anyway on pure principle.

Emma pulled some fresh hamburger from the refrigerator and put it in a bowl.  Seeing it like this, all red and mushy with the disgusting smell of the raw meat made her wonder why people ate such things.  Seriously, who was the first person to cut open a cow and think: mmmm… that looks yummy?  She dumped some spices, an egg, some oats and ketchup into the mix and stirred it together with her hands.  Yuck!  It felt even more disgusting than it looked.  She loved a good meatloaf though—she was such a hypocrite.  She finished it up and threw it in the oven to bake for an hour.

Emma pulled a stool up to the counter and plopped herself onto it.  She flipped open her math book and as the meaningless numbers of Calculus floated through her inattentive brain she thought about the voice from earlier.

It had been a perfectly smooth, yet clearly urgent voice.  She recalled it with vivid clarity as if it had been burned into her mind.  Definitely a male voice—she was sure of that—it had made her insides rumble with its deep, pure tone.  It was a voice she wouldn't mind hearing again, even if it was yelling at her.

Her guardian angel possibly?  If so, he had never spoken to her quite so forcefully before.  Okay, so he’d never spoken to her at all that she could remember.  His voice had sounded so real, so close.  Something had physically moved her, shoving her back into reality, and none too gently either, her shoulder still ached. 

Emma was still lost in the memory when the oven timer beeped.  She jumped up to grab the meatloaf before it charred around the edges.  Had it been an hour already?

The blank sheet of paper on the counter was staring back at her.  She hadn’t even scratched a dent in her homework and her mom would be home from work any minute.

Emma moved swiftly to the freezer and grabbed a bag of frozen corn and threw it in the microwave.  She set some plates on the table and yanked a handful of forks from the drawer setting them next to the plates.  They all shared one butter knife that was stuck in the butter tub for the next person.

This was her idea of a formal table setting.  It was a little red-necked she had to admit, but it saved on dishes later.  They didn't own a dishwasher.  Her mom saw no need for one.  She thought they wasted too much hot water and ran up the bill.  "Besides, I have two dishwashers already," she would always say—meaning Cody and Emma.

That way of thinking had come from her mother, Grandma Lettie.  Gram had grown up during the depression, and she didn't believe in wasting anything.  She even washed out Ziploc bags and sheets of tinfoil and used them again and again.  And heaven forbid you'd throw away plastic forks or spoons, she washed and reused them too, just like they were fine silver.

Emma heard her mom’s car coming up the drive.  Their gravel driveway made it almost impossible for anyone to sneak up unannounced but it was a big muddy pain-in-the-neck the rest of the time.  The gravel was always sinking into the mud and it needed constant refilling just to stay afloat. 

Emma didn't feel too deprived—nobody in this town had a paved driveway.  What good would it do when most of the surrounding roads were dirt?  There was only a half-mile stretch of blacktop in Eden.  It ran right down the little main street where the General Store and the tuff-shed post office were located.

“Cody, get those nails picked up off the ground before I swat your behind!”  Catherine yelled from the backyard.  “We don’t need to be getting any flat tires!”  The back door swung open and Emma's mom appeared in the kitchen carrying five grocery bags and three gallons of milk.

“
Let me help you with that Mom…” Emma scrambled to relieve her of some of her burden.  “You know you didn’t have to carry all that in.  I would have gone out and gotten it.”

“
Yeah, I know, but I got it all,” Catherine said breathlessly.

Emma’s mom had become very independent since the divorce.  She refused to let anyone think she needed help with anything.  She was stubborn that way.  Emma was a lot the same.  She didn’t want to depend on anyone either, just in case they didn’t stick around.  The divorce had affected her too—trust wasn’t one of her big virtues anymore.

“It looks like the teachers are still piling on the homework.”  Catherine laughed as she nodded toward the stack of books piled on the counter.

“
Apparently they enjoy torture,” Emma sighed.

Emma pulled the corn out of the microwave and dumped it in a bowl.  She shoved a large spoon in it and a glob of butter then grabbed for the oven mitts.  She placed the meatloaf pan on the table then grabbed a bag of salad and Ranch dressing out of the fridge, placing them on the table next to the rest of it. 

“Dinner’s ready,” she called out to make it official.

Her mom peered out the back door and called for Cody to come and wash up for dinner.

“I told you I ain’t eatin’!” He smarted off from the backyard.

“
Oh
yes
you are young man!  Now you get in here this instant.  I don’t need any more guff from your grandma about you being too skinny,” Catherine huffed. 

Gram was always giving her a hard time, saying if she didn't make Cody eat, he was going to blow away in the next windstorm.  Catherine didn’t particularly like being told her business by her out-of-date mother, but she knew better than to argue with Gram. 

Everyone in the whole town knew that Grandma Lettie could be mean when she wanted to be.  It was best to stay on her good side or stay out of her way all together.  More than one of Gram’s laying hens had gotten their necks wrung just for irritating her.  She just wasn’t having it. 

Cody came into the house, stomping his feet for dramatic effect, and slammed himself down into the chair.  He didn’t want anyone to doubt that he was put-out by being made to eat dinner when he had more important things to attend to. 

Catherine shot him a scowl then ignored his sour attitude setting her focus on Emma.

“
So how was school today Emma?” Catherine asked as she dished up her plate.

“
Same as always, I guess,” Emma said in between chewing.  Her mom had only asked about school, no need to bring up the little “brush-with-death” that had clearly taken place after school was over.

“
Nothing exciting?” she probed.  “It's spring.  There's less than three months of school left.  There should be lots of fun stuff coming up.” 

Emma wasn’t sure what she was getting at, so she just nodded and kept chewing. 

“Aren't there any parties planned for graduation, or any dances maybe?” Catherine continued.

“
No Mom,” Emma huffed.  “As far as I know, I haven’t been invited to any parties or dances.”  Emma stabbed her meatloaf dramatically with her fork.

“
That's cuz you're a dork,” Cody interjected under his breath.  Catherine gave him a disapproving glare then turned back to Emma.

“
Don’t you have any plans with your friends?”

“
Nope,” Emma said plainly.  Her mom knew she didn't have any friends that she ever did anything with.  Why was she rubbing it in?

“
I just want you to have some fun Emma,” her mom sighed, “you spend too much time alone.  I know you have a lot of responsibilities put on you around the house, but high school's almost over.   I don’t want you to look back and wish you'd been more involved…or had more fun.”  Emma rolled her eyes.  “I’m serious Emma, have fun while you can.  Don’t grow up too fast—you'll regret it later.”

“
Okay Mom, I’ll try harder to have fun just for you,” Emma said sarcastically.  Now it was Catherine's turn to roll her eyes.

Dinner continued in silence.  When it was finished Emma washed the dishes and set them out to dry.  There were still chores to be done so she headed out the back door.

The chickens were pecking around in the barnyard, excited by every little seed or bit of green they came upon.  Life seemed pretty simple for a chicken.  Their only job in life was laying an egg when the mood struck them right. 

Emma opened the wide, wooden door of the barn and stepped inside.  Sunlight filtered in through the tiny cracks and knot holes in the graying, weathered wood lighting up each tiny fragment of dust that passed in front of them.

“Alone once again,” she sighed.

The dried alfalfa hay which had been stacked to the rafters just 5 months ago had been diminished by the long winter.  Emma walked over and laid back in a pile of the scratchy hay.  It had been a long day.  She closed her eyes and listened to the creaking of the ancient wood around her and breathed in deeply letting her body relax.  The smell was no bottle of perfume, it actually smelled like manure, but it was familiar and homey.