It was nearing one oclock now and Will was making his rounds, checking on all the cows preparing for birth. This he couldnt put off; if he did, he could have some dead calves and cows on his hands.
The nightly phone calls, always at seven-thirty Iowa time, five-thirty Arizona time, were the worst. First P.J. would talk, chattering on about how much he liked the farm, the snow and sledding, his new school, until Will would gently coax the phone from his fingers and hand it to Augie, who stood by nervously chewing her fingernails.
Hi, Mom, Augie would say, her throat dense with tears and something else, regret, guilt maybe. Then there would be a series of yeses, noes, okays. No elaboration on her new life in Broken Branch, short, curt responses. Augie would hand the phone back to Will and rush from the farmhouse, inadequately dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and tennis shoes. Will wasnt sure where she ran off to, but figured it was probably the old hayloft in the south barn. Thats always where her mother had hidden when she was upset.
Then it was Wills turn to try and make conversation. How are you? he would ask. Feeling better today?
Fine, yes, Holly would answer thickly, as if her tongue was swollen or she was heavily medicated. Both were likely.
P.J. really has taken to farm life. Who wouldve thought? Hes a big help. Asks a lot of questions.
Oh, well, good.
Augie is a real city girl. Reminds me a lot of you. Will chuckled. No response. They miss you, but Im taking good care of them. No worries, now, you hear?
Okay.
You get better fast, Hol. Love you.
Bye.
He wasnt a particularly demonstrative man. Wasnt the hugging kind. But when his children were under his roof there was not one night that went by where he didnt tell them he loved them. He saw his share of fellow soldiers cut down in Vietnam when he served as a lieutenant. Boys who would have given anything to tell their wives, their kids, their folks, they loved them one more time. Every night Will would go to his childrens bedrooms and tell them one by one that he loved them. When they were little they would throw themselves into his arms, even Holly, pressing their scrubbed faces into his neck, inhaling the complicated, earthy smells of the farm that rose from his pores. When the boys were older they would casually toss back a Love you, too, Dad, and Will was satisfied. Those words said, he could sleep well that night. Holly, his youngest, was another story. When she was twelve something shifted. She no longer looked at him through the eyes of a little girl who adored her father, but would look at him askance, her eyes judgmental slits. Love you, Hol, he would say, coming to the doorway of her bedroom but not stepping over the threshold into her realm of bottles of nail polish and piles of clothes.
Good night, she would say without looking directly at him, snapping the pages of a fashion magazine in irritation.
Love you, Holly, he would repeat a little more loudly.
Uh-huh, she would answer absentmindedly, and a spark of anger would ignite low in his breastbone.
Eventually he didnt even bother opening her bedroom door to say good-night. He would knock twice on her door. Night, Holly. Love you, he would call through the closed door and briskly walk away. He couldnt bear seeing the disdain on her face, of not hearing the sweetness of those three little words in response. Now here he was, eighteen years later, saying I love you to a daughter who still couldnt seem to find one reason to say it back.
After he finished feeding the cattle, he went to the big barn where he and Daniel had moved four expecting heifers earlier in the week. Over one hundred calves were due to be born by mid-May. Despite the shelter from the barn walls, the cold had still seeped in and Will worried that some of the new calves might perish in the bitter weather.
Will patted the sleek rump of the heifer. He would have to stay close and check on her throughout the day. He expected a calf by that evening. He looked up at the sound of a shout. Through the wide doorway, Daniel was waving and jogging toward him. Daniel Tucker was an equable, methodical man of around thirty, unmarried and thoroughly dedicated to the animals and the land. He was a great help to Will, had a calm, gentle way around the cattle, was dependable and a hard worker. In addition to helping Will out on his farm, Daniel was renting farmland from Will in order to raise crops, hoping to one day purchase his own slice of Iowa. As Daniel came closer, his normally placid face was creased in concern; Will realized something wasnt quite right.
The school, Daniel said breathlessly, his cheeks red, his nose running from the biting cold. Something is happening at the school, he said again, swiping his arm across his nose.
What happened? Will felt his heartbeat gathering speed and guiltily he realized that his thoughts went immediately to P.J., Augie a beat later.
Something about a man with a gun, Daniel said, and pulled his stocking cap from his head. My sister just called me, my niece and nephew go to the schoolshes frantic. Said theres a big crowd of parents at the school trying to find out whats going on.
My daughter-in-law teaches fourth grade at the school, Will said, pulling his hat from his head. I need to call my son. You want to go be with your sister? Will asked, biting his lip.
Thought youd want to go check on P.J. and Augie, Daniel answered, reaching into his coat pocket for a handkerchief and blowing wetly into it. And Todds wife, of course.
Id appreciate that, Dan, Will answered gratefully. Numbers 87 and 134 will give birth sometime today. Can you stay near? Will asked, pointing toward a wide-shouldered black-baldie whose swollen flank and udders looked ready to burst.
You betcha, Daniel said, patting his boss on the shoulder. If you hear anything, let me know.
The two moved quickly but in silence back toward the house. The only sounds were the wind whistling between the outbuildings and the mild lowing of the cattle, now satiated and huddled together trying to keep warm.
Who would do such a thing? Daniel finally asked, stretching his stocking cap back over his ears.
Will shook his head in bewilderment. He knew just about every single person in Broken Branch, and though there were a few mean, crazy sons of bitches, he couldnt imagine anyone walking into a school with a gun. Dont know, Daniel. Ill go see what I can find out, he assured him, and went into the house. Will didnt bother to change out of his coveralls or his dirty work boots but paused to grab the cell phone he seldom used. Then, unaware of the streaks of muck and manure he was trailing across Marlyss carpet, he made his way into his tiny office. He spun the lock on his Browning gun safe, pulled it open and retrieved his Mossberg 500 pump action shotgun and tucked a box of shells into his pocket. Just in case.
Augie
Mr. Ellery steps out of the room and Noah and Justin follow him to the doorway. Go sit down. Now, he orders, his voice so serious that even Noah knows better than to disobey him.
Whats going on? Beth Cragg asks nervously, chewing on her fingers. Beth is the closest thing to a friend that I have in Broken Branch. Our grandmothers are friends and had unsuccessfully tried to make our mothers into best friends when they were our age. I guess they thought this was their second chance, because ten minutes after P.J. and I arrived at the farmhouse Beth and her grandma showed up with a plate of lemon squares. But I was the one who looked like she had sucked on a lemon when I first met Beth. We seemed so different from each other. Beth is all farm girl. She wears Levis and John Deere sweatshirts or McGee Feed Store T-shirts every single day. Beth is one of those girls who is naturally beautiful and doesnt even know it. She has freckled skin and pulls her shiny brown hair back into a ponytail or twists it into a braid that lies across her shoulder like a thick rope. Whenever I try to wear my hair in a braid it looks like an anorexic rattail. The boys in eighth grade love her because she is still interested in chasing toads and skipping stones across the creek and because she belongs to 4-H and raises calves that she shows at the county fair each summer. She can talk about crops and guns and goes pheasant and deer hunting with her father. All except this year, because of her parents divorce. In the past two months, though, we have become friends. Beth is nice and is a good listener. Plus, she was the one person, including my grandpa and P.J., who didnt make fun of the way I dyed my hair red. Now thats a true friend. And we do have something in common. Our parents. Mine are divorced and Beths mom and dad are getting a divorce. She listens to me while I bitch about having to leave Arizona to live with my grandfather and she complains about how sad her mom is and how her dad tries to make her feel guilty for taking her mothers side.
Whats going on? Beth asks again, her voice shaking. I feel my stomach flip with worry and I think of P.J. Then I think of my mother back in Revelation and I want to talk to her more than anything. My cell phone is in my book bag, which is in my locker out in the hallway, and I wonder if Mr. Ellery will let me go and get it.
Were in lockdown, Mr. Ellery says seriously when he comes back into the room. Not a drill. He runs a hand through his black hair and pulls at his goatee. He shuts the classroom door and pushes the round button, locking us in. So much for going to get my phone.
Hey, what are you doing? Noah asks in surprise.
Shhh, Im thinking. Mr. Ellery bites his lip and looks out the small window set into the door and then turns back toward us. Lets all move back to that corner. He points to the space behind his desk away from the door and windows.
Is it someone with a gun? Felicia asks, her eyes wide.
Oh, my God, someone behind me whispers.
We dont know that, Mr. Ellery says quickly.
We cant stay in here and wait for someone to come in and blow us away, Noah says angrily, and I realize how much of a jerk he is all over again.
No, we stay, Mr. Ellery says firmly. Until we get the all clear, we stay.
Noah looks like he is going to argue, but as one by one everyone stands and goes to the back corner of the room and begins to squeeze themselves into the space between the teachers desk and the wall, he decides to follow.
The boys should sit on the outside, Savannah says.
Fuck that. Noah glares at her. Im not going to be anyones shield. I want to be as close to the window as I can. Im going to get the hell out of here first chance I get.
Hey, Noah, just cool it, Mr. Ellery says in a way that makes me think he wouldnt mind climbing out a window, too. No ones going to be anyones shield. Does anyone mind sitting on the edges? Five hands go up, including Beths and Drews. Slowly I raise mine. Okay, guys, thanks. Mr. Ellery nods at us. Everyone take a seat. No talking. He flips the light switch and the room turns gray, matching the sky outside.
I settle onto the hard linoleum floor and rest my back against the side of Mr. Ellerys desk. Beth sits down on one side of me, Drew on the other. Mr. Ellery first goes to the window and lowers the blinds and then goes to the phone sitting on his desk, picks it up, puts the receiver to his ear and then eventually hangs up. He pulls himself up onto the desk, his long legs not quite touching the floor. Phone isnt working, he says. After a minute he reaches into his pocket for his cell phone and punches in three numbers.
After several tries he finally says, This is Jason Ellery from the school. Something seems to be going on here. He listens for a moment. Yes, everyone in my class is safe and accounted for. He listens again and then reaches for his grade book that he keeps on his desk. One by one he reads off our names in alphabetical order. My name comes last, I suppose because I joined the class midyear. Augustine Baker, he says, and I hear Noah snort back a laugh. Will Thwaites granddaughter. Again there is silence as he listens. The classroom phones arent working, my cell is about halfway charged. He pulls the phone from his mouth and says in a loud whisper, Anyone have their cell phone with them? No one says anything. Were supposed to keep our phones in our lockers and not bring them into the classroom with us. Supposedly, some kids were using their phones to look up test answers on the internet and texting during class and the principal banned phones in the classroom. Come on, he says more loudly. We dont have time for this. Does anyone have their cell phone with them right now? Three hands slowly go up, including Noah Plums. No surprise there. Make sure theyre turned off and bring them here.
No way, Noah snorts. Its my phone.
Noah, Im not kidding around here, Mr. Ellery says sharply. We dont know how long were going to be stuck in here. The school phones dont work and we need to conserve the batteries on the phones we do have.
I want to call my mom, Beth calls out in a soft voice. Can I call my mom?
Me, too, someone says, and there is a chorus of me, toos and I find my voice joining in. I want nothing more than to talk to my mother right now. I wouldnt freeze her out the way I have for the past two months, answering her questions in three words or less. Okay, I guess. I dont know. Yeah.
I cant stop you, but we could be here for a long time. The 9-1-1 dispatcher knows everyone is okay and will let your folks know. Someone is going to call us back when they have more info. Mr. Ellery shrugs his shoulders and waits.
Noah immediately starts punching numbers into his phone and before I can stop myself I whisper loudly, What an idiot.
Shut up, Augustine, he snarls, but snaps the phone shut and sets it next to where Mr. Ellery is sitting. The others with phones do the same.
Thanks, guys, Mr. Ellery says. You can have them back at any time. For now we just wait. He pulls himself up onto his desk. He holds a long slim, wooden pointer that he uses to show us capitals of countries none of us will probably ever visit and I wonder if he really thinks that a simple stick can protect us from whatever is out there. But Im still glad hes here. Mr. Ellery wont let anything bad happen to us.
Meg
As I move back toward the parking lot I see Dorothy Jones, the owner of Knitting and Notions, a local craft shop, and the president of the school board, walking toward me.
Hi, Dorothy, I dont have any info. Youll have to move back behind the tape.
Please, Meg, she begs. Ill just take a few minutes of your time. Its important. I invite her to join me in the cruiser. She walks around to the other side of the car, opens the door and climbs in.
Dorothy is fiftyish with midnight-black hair that is cut into a severe, chin-length bob and is attractive in an eclectic, trendy way. She normally wears bright red lipstick and artfully ripped jeans and Chuck Taylor tennis shoes, but now her face is bare of any makeup and she has on sweatpants and a thin spring coat. She has resided in Broken Branch for just over two years, but has accomplished much in the short time she has lived here. A single mother of two teens who attend the school, Dorothy opened Knitting and Notions, renovated an old farmhouse south of town and managed to be elected to the local school board, ousting Clement Heitzman, who had been president for the past twelve years. Dorothy has also been instrumental in the coordination of the consolidation of several area schools, which will now lead to the closing of Broken Branchs school, sending all the high school kids to the nearby town of Conway, the middle school students to Bohr and the elementary students to Dalsing or Broken Branch, depending on where they live. The construction of Broken Branchs new elementary school is scheduled to be completed this July, ready to open at the end of August. Many folks around town are miffed with Dorothy for closing their beloved school, as most townspeople spent the entirety of their education within the walls of that building. As somewhat of an outsider, I can understand the reasoning for closing the school. Its a monstrosity, impossible to heat in the winter and sweltering in the warm months. Its water heater and furnace are ancient and Im certain the ceilings are full of asbestos. Dorothy, along with the superintendent of schools, somehow convinced the rest of the board that by consolidating four area towns schools, the children would be well-educated and safe.