The Beacon: Prologue (2)
Episode 2: "Making Her Move"
The afternoon could not have been lovelier. As she absently washed a plate in the sink, Tabitta Chelson gazed out the kitchen window at the sunny, blue sky, noting only the wispiest of clouds far up in the expanse of heaven. Birds flitted past, flying from the trees to the barns and back again, collecting straw and eating bugs, chirping and peeping. A gentle, cooling breeze blew through the window, fluttering the pale strands of hair that had escaped the girl’s ponytail. Such a grand day!
She placed the plate on the rack to dry, quickly finishing the few remaining dishes and cups. Her father and brothers, as well as the few hired hands that helped with the animals and in the fields, had made short work of the large lunch she, her mother, and her sisters had prepared for them, devouring it like a swarm of locusts through a field of barley. It had been her turn to wash the dishes, and as usual, she had procrastinated until her mother had scolded her to get them done before they had to begin preparing for supper. Knowing her duty, she had demurely said, “Yes, Mama,” and put on her apron, filled the basin, and started washing.
But she had not done her work quickly or enthusiastically. She did not hate washing dishes, cooking meals, and cleaning the house, nor did she love them. They just had to be done, or Mama would be cross. Tabitta much preferred daydreaming and thinking and wishing and wondering. She often had a faraway look in her china-blue eyes as she imagined her greatest dream: visiting the capital city in spring when the pink and white blossoms on the trees filled the air with sweet perfume. Wondering what it would be like to stroll in Palisade’s parks, she had laughed, thinking of children playing hide-and-seek among the trees. Sparked by the thought of dancing at a ball thrown by one of the society ladies, she had twirled around the kitchen, dripping water over the wooden floorboards.
She squeezed out the dishrag, draping it over the water pump, and dried her hands on a towel. Taking off her apron, she threw it over a chair at the table. She could hear her older sisters chattering upstairs, helping their mother sew and mend as they did nearly every afternoon. Tabitta hated sewing, too, because it took too much concentration to keep her stitches even and precise. With no one looking, she slipped quietly from the house. Darting across the yard, she let herself out at the gate to walk down the lane toward the fields.
She was heading to her favorite place on the farm, a large boulder on a slight rise that afforded the best views of the countryside. When sitting atop the rock, she could lose herself to any of a thousand fantasies and flights of imagination. She would lean back on her arms and tilt her neck back to feel the sun on her face, and in a moment, her mind would take her to some exotic place where she could revel in the sights, smells, and tastes of some foreign land. Like any hardworking farmer’s daughter, she never daydreamed about washing dishes, sewing clothes, or picking vegetables from the garden.
Tabitta jumped a small ditch and passed between rows of tall stalks of maize. The ears were still immature, but they promised a fine crop. Moving farther into the field, she could feel the ground rise under her feet. Her rock, as she thought of it, dominated the center of the expansive field, an eminence from which she could survey her domain. In anticipation, she began to jog.
Suddenly coming out of the dimness beneath the maize stalks into bright sunshine, she raised her hand to shield her eyes from the glare. In the moment it took her eyes to adjust, she walked headlong into a young man leaning on a hoe, hat in hand, catching his breath at the end of a row. She bounced off of him like a ball off a wall and found herself sprawled on her backside in the dirt.
“Whoa there, Tabitta!” said the young man, laughing. He dropped his hoe, shoving his hat on his head and extending his now free hands to help her up.
Her face flamed scarlet, and her hands flew to her face to hide her embarrassment. She just wanted to disappear, but then she suddenly wondered if her skirt was still covering her properly. Peeking through her fingers, she breathed in relief when she saw her hem had settled below her knees. Her mother had told her about such things. It just would not be right to let Jasen Renbow see too much!
“Jase!” she spluttered. “I mean, Jasen. You startled me!”
He chuckled again, amused to see her so flustered. “My apologies, Miss! It was not my intention. I was just taking a breather before checking out another row. I had no idea you were out here. May I help you up?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said with a little smile and downcast eyes. When she was back on her feet, she brushed herself off and then stood silent, feeling awkward, not knowing what to do or say. She bit her thumbnail, throwing a quick glance at Jase.
He had an easy smile, being easily amused, so he grinned at her apparent nervousness. “No need to be embarrassed, Miss. Just a coincidence I was even here. I guess you’re going to climb up on your rock.”
Tabitta nodded. “Yes, it’s where I think best. And it’s a beautiful day, so I thought I’d enjoy it for a few minutes. Mama will call me to help with supper soon enough.”
“No harm in a little rest, I expect.” He picked up his hoe. “That’s just what I was doing myself. Guess I’d best get along here. Your father wants this section finished by the end of the day. Enjoy your rock, Miss!” He tipped his hat to her and stepped among the maize stalks, eyes on the soil.
“See you!” she said with a small wave and a smile he did not see. She groaned a little at her humiliation as she turned toward the rock. It loomed above her, light brown and sheer-sided like a small cliff. She hurried along it and around to the far side, where a ledge angled upward all the way to the top, allowing an easy climb to the flat-topped eastern end. In a minute, she was seated at its highest point, legs folded under her, taking in the broad sweep of her father’s farm and their neighbors’ farmlands beyond.
The country around Shipton, fertile and beautiful, gleamed like an emerald in the late spring sun. The town itself, the largest in that part of the country, lay a little more than a mile to the west, sitting on a rise of rocky ground the early settlers had refused to till. Everywhere Tabitta looked, she saw green: fields of green grains or vegetables and stands of green trees. Only the dusty road and the occasional house or barn provided a splash of brown or red or yellow. A breeze sent waves rippling through millions of leaves before her.
The thought of waves sent her imagination to the tossing sea many miles to the south. She had never been there, of course. In her brief life, she had never been more than a handful of leagues from Shipton. But she had read stories about sailing to exotic ports in faraway kingdoms, and her brothers had told her rollicking tales about pirates doing mischief and castaways on sandy isles and dockside taverns in the rowdy port of Wesfair. She imagined the surf pounding on a sandy beach while an ocean breeze reduced the heat of the glaring sun. Multicolored birds squawked under the palm trees.
A shout of rage brought her instantly out of her daydream. At first, she could not place its source, but as her eyes darted about, she caught sight of another wave, one not caused by the wind or made of water. From the height of her boulder, she could see a rolling line of shimmering light slowly coming toward her across the fields from the east road. It undulated relentlessly about halfway to her rock.
Determining it would soon be upon her, she realized where the shout had come from. Not far from the road, behind the rolling shimmer, several yards of maize had been flattened in a large circle, and Jasen stood at its perimeter, laying about with his hoe as if it were a quarterstaff, mowing down dozens of stalks with each swing. At that moment, he screamed another curse as he reversed direction and felled several more stalks.
She shot to her feet, calling his name, but he did not seem to hear her. What is he doing? Father will fire him for destroying so much of the crop! She liked Jasen more than she liked the other hands because he was always kind and often made her laugh. He came from a town family, and they needed the money he earned working on the farm. What has come over him?
The shimmery wave forgotten, Tabitta turned and scrambled down from the rock as fast as she could. She picked up her skirt and ran between the tall rows of maize, hoping that she would come out somewhere near where Jasen was, but she need not have worried, since she could hear him shouting and striking the stalks. In her haste, she vaguely noticed the shimmering wave passing through her. She felt nothing unusual.
As she neared Jasen, she slowed, wondering what she should do. How can I get him to stop destroying the maize? Will he even listen to me? What if he is mad at Father? Will he strike me? Has he gone insane? What is the best way to approach him?
Her mother had taught her a few things about men, and Jasen was definitely a man, a good-looking man. She had seen him cleaned up and dressed well in town at his cousin’s recent wedding. Her sisters had remarked how handsome he was. He was tall and well-muscled, and his work out in the fields had bronzed his skin. His dazzling smile, she remembered with a blush, flashed often, exposing straight, white teeth.
What had her mother said? “Most men will do anything for a sweet, pretty girl,” a thought that gave her an idea. Maybe if he saw me as sweet and pretty, he would stop thrashing the maize. She took the ribbon from her ponytail and shook out her long, blonde hair. The ponytail was for work, but loose hair was for parties and dances. What else can I do? Her shirt was buttoned up almost to her throat, and that was just a bit too prim. She undid one, then two. Two would be more grown-up. Looking down, she saw her dusty, worn, everyday shoes. No man would think them attractive. She slipped them off and, on second thought, quickly pulled her cotton socks off, too.
That’s better, she thought. He will notice me now.
Tabitta passed through the last row of standing maize and stepped carefully over the felled stalks on the ground. The last thing she wanted was for Jasen to see her trip. That would ruin my plan! She knew she had not looked sweet and pretty when she had run into him earlier and fallen in the dirt. She had been a silly farm girl then, but now she was something altogether better. I’m older, prettier, smarter. A woman out to distract a man with her feminine assets.
This made her smile brightly. She stood tall and threw her shoulders back. “Jase!” she called, not too loudly but just loud enough to be heard over his thrashing and cursing. He stopped immediately and turned quickly to face her. His face was flushed, and his dark hair, no longer covered by his hat, was matted with the sweat of his exertions. He breathed fast and deep as if he had just run a long distance.
“What do you want, Tabitta?” he said roughly. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“But, Jase,” she said, eyes wide and innocent, “you shouldn’t be doing that. Wouldn’t you rather spend some time with me?” She gingerly stepped toward him until she stood only a few feet away. She looked down as if embarrassed. “I know I’d rather you did.”
“I’m not sure I have the time, girl,” he replied with a shake of his head. “See these stalks? They are pure evil, and I’ve got to clear them out! I’ve seen them looking at me with their little, beady eyes and waving their long fingers at me. I can’t stand them looking at me. I’ve got to destroy them!”
“Oh, Jase,” she cooed, stepping up to him and looking into his eyes. “Take a minute to rest and forget them!” She took his free hand in her own. “I bet I could make you forget them.”
The stalks of maize instantly forgotten, he tossed his hoe aside and leaned closer to her. He brushed his thumb against her cheek, moving her hair back from her face. “I never realized how beautiful you are, Tabitta,” he said. “You’re not a little girl anymore.”
She tilted her head back, and he obliged her with a long and passionate kiss. His strong arms crushed her to his chest, but she felt no discomfort. All she thought about was his lips on hers and how she wished this moment would never end.
Their eyes flew open at the same instant, and they almost jumped apart. Tabitta’s hands touched her lips, her loose hair, and her scandalously unbuttoned blouse while Jasen stared open-mouthed, first at her, then at the wide swath of downed maize. He found his voice first. “I’m sorry, Tabitta! I don’t know what came over me! I should never have acted like that toward you.”
“No,” she said, deeply embarrassed. She fumbled at the buttons of her shirt. “It was my fault. I came to you.”
“That doesn’t matter,” he said. “I should have controlled myself.” He looked around at the maize, shaking his head. “But it looks like I wasn’t in control at all. How could I do this?”
“How could I act like a painted lady? I’m so ashamed. I’m sorry.” She began to walk away, head down, then stopped and turned to look at him. “Did you see the shimmering wave before . . . before all this happened?”
He looked puzzled. “Shimmering wave?” He shook his head. “All I’ve seen for days and days are rows and rows of this hated maize. I can’t see anything else when I’m in the field.”
Her face took on a look of certainty. “Somehow, I think the wave, whatever it was, made us crazy. We weren’t acting like ourselves. You tend crops, not destroy them, and I have never behaved like that before!” She blushed again.
He grinned. “I didn’t mind so much. And I wasn’t lying when I said you are beautiful.” He reddened this time.
“Thank you, Jase,” she said softly. “But my father will surely fire you and make you pay for what you destroyed! You don’t deserve that! You couldn’t help yourself like I couldn’t help myself.”
He was quiet for a minute as he thought the situation through. Then he picked up his hoe, found his hat, and placed it on his head. Coming over to Tabitta, he stood before her, his shoulders square and his jaw set. “It doesn’t matter that I couldn’t help myself. You saw me; I did it. A man takes responsibility for his actions. I’m going to find your father right now and admit what I’ve done.”
For a moment, she just stared up at him, seeing the determination in his eyes. Then she reached out, laying her hand on his arm. “Let me get my shoes.”
A note:
A bloody and inconsolable Pietro the Singing Tinker stumbled into the front yard of the Chelson farm about an hour later, babbling about falling into temporary madness and slaying his poor Booto. Immediately, Tabitta’s father sent his sons and Jasen with a team to retrieve Pietro’s wagon and bury the little mule beside the road. Eventually, Tabitta’s mother got the Satelen tinker to calm down—the wine did not hurt—and tell the story as plainly as he could. Like Tabitta, Pietro mentioned the wave overtaking him and how he had begun to act crazily until the second wave passed through, and he came to his senses. Realizing Jase and their daughter had not been spinning a tall tale, Tabitta’s parents took no action against the young man—except for giving him a handful of extra chores around the farm over the next few weeks.
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I'm quite sad about the little mule.