Seth

Jennifer set the last of the potatoes and carrots into the slow cooker and shut the lid. She put it on a low setting seeing as how Tom and his friends wouldn’t be over for some time.

From a distance she could hear the low rumble of the tractor as someone—most likely Tom—went about taking care of the more intensive stages of the fence repair. When the wind carried just right she could even make out bits and pieces of conversation. The soft strains of an old timey country song lent its melody to the air, and coupled with the way the sun was now shining full and golden over the fields and trees, a sort of idyllic peacefulness had fallen over the atmosphere.

The hot water flowing from the tap felt good on her cold hands, and as she wiped them on the blue and white dish towel hanging from the hook on the wall, she found herself wondering for the umpteenth time that morning just what the hell she thought she was doing.

Inviting someone over for dinner was one thing, but to invite Tom Waites over for dinner? Well, that was just asking for trouble, wasn’t it?

There was no shortage of rumors and speculation surrounding him in the town, everything from him being a wealthy widow, a notorious heartbreaker with a string of lovers spanning the country, all of it probably nonsense and just small town gossip. What people had hidden away in their past was their business, and really, what did it matter? Tom Waites was as nice a person as they came, and charming manners and quiet good looks aside, it was the memories that he conjured in her that were the most troubling.

Tom had been there for her when her husband Gerald had not. Tom had been the one to comfort her, and if she was being honest, he was the one who had spared her from the full and awful truth of her son’s death. The coroner’s report was one thing—“death by misadventure”—but to have actually seen it close up with her own eyes? It was too terrible to dwell on for any length of time.

“You don’t need to see; I know you love your son and always will, so it’s best that you remember him the way he was, not as he is now.” A shudder seemed to pass through him and he exhaled sharply. “You leave all that to bastards like me.”

Just what exactly had he meant by that? She had called him a bastard for holding her back and refusing to let her go, but she hadn’t meant it. Now that she thought about it, she was grateful in a way for what he had done, and she was going to make a concerted effort to apologize to him about that at some point tonight.

She exhaled slowly and rested her arms on the edge of the kitchen sink. A flash like diamonds twinkling caught her attention and her eyes flicked to the edge of the windowsill. There, lined up in a neat row, were five geodes—or were they meteorites? She couldn’t tell—that she had picked up from her little expedition this morning. The rocks, which were about the size of a tangerine, were a grayish blue color with a mottling of dark green. Outwardly they didn’t resemble anything she had ever seen before and were of a smooth texture that seemed almost mechanically produced. She had some knowledge as to the natural weathering process, but these specimens were nearly flawless in their smoothness. There were slight irregularities in the overall shape, and if you turned them just right, it almost appeared as if they had a sort of subtle geometric configuration to them.

She shook her head.

Trying to find pattern and reason in these rocks was almost like looking for familiar shapes in the clouds, and while fun in a fanciful sort of way, it was little more than that. What truly set these rocks apart from anything else she had ever seen, were the intricate and undeniably beautiful crystalline inner structures. She didn’t think it was possible to fit so many delicate and near-perfect crystals into a single specimen, yet here they were. When she held them up to the sun they sparkled and twinkled like a king’s ransom of diamonds, and the multitude of blue, violet, and silver hues were truly incredible.

Seth would have loved these, she had thought as she’d bent down and picked them up. She had been so intent on following the undeniable and obvious path of destruction that the meteor had left behind that she didn’t even notice where she was. It was only after she had one in her hand and held it up to inspect it, did she realize that she was standing in the dry river bed very near to where Seth had died.

The trail of broken and splintered trees which she had followed from the edge of Tom Waite’s property had led her directly to this spot. He had been correct in his belief that the meteor had been responsible for the damage to his fence, and based on the trajectory, it had passed directly over her house, made a beeline for his fence, and had then continued on unimpeded to the dry river bed. The damage had been almost ridiculously easy to follow as she’d made her way through the forest of old growth trees, but it seemed that the damage—or at the very least what had caused it—had stopped right at the edge of the ancient riverbed.

She had walked up and down nearly the full length of the riverbed, her tracks crisscrossing back and over themselves again and again searching for some trace of the meteor, but she had been unable to locate it. It was as if it had burnt up right before reaching this spot and had never technically crash landed anywhere. All she had been able to find were these strange and beautiful rocks that looked completely out of place. The pockets of her jacket bulged with the ones she had collected, some nine specimens in all, yet they were curiously light.

“What on Earth?” She carelessly wiped her hands on her jeans and then stood, hands on hips, surveying the surrounding area. This was all just a little bit odd and vaguely surreal. There should have been some evidence of where the meteor had come to rest, some indentation in the ground, scorch marks, something. The extensive damage to the trees was testament to that alone, yet there was nothing. Nothing that is, except the strange rocks practically within arm’s reach of where Seth’s body had come to rest after he had fallen from the embankment above.

“Death by misadventure….”

“You don’t need to see…it’s best that you remember him the way he was, not as he is now….You leave all that to bastards like me.”

“He’s in a better place now, and he needs you to be strong for yourself and your family.”

She could feel herself trembling as the memories and emotions swelled and threatened to overtake her. Her hands closed convulsively around the rocks in her pockets, and she felt a nearly irrepressible desire to take them out one by one and fling them as far away from her as possible. She had done that with the piece of meteorite that had been found in Seth’s pocket after he’d died, and while it had ultimately been an impulsive and irrational thing to do, it seemed like she should do that with these as well.

Coming out here had been a mistake.

Inviting Tom Waites over for dinner, even as a courtesy for him offering to repair her fence, had been a mistake too.

She withdrew the first one her fingers closed around, and cocking her arm back, prepared to heave it into the underbrush on the other side of the dry river bed.

The rock went sailing off into the distance, winking once as the sun caught it in mid-flight before disappearing completely from sight. She couldn’t seem to stop herself and before she knew it, she had dispatched three more in a similar fashion. She was crying silently as she launched each one in turn, and as she prepared to send the fifth one off into obscurity, a loud crashing and snapping of twigs sounded off to the left.

She immediately stood stock still, her eyes surveying the shadows and amorphous tans and greens of the surrounding foliage for any sign as to what had made that noise. Mountain lions, coyotes, and certainly black bears lived out here, and it was conceivable that she had unintentionally frightened one from its den while throwing those rocks across the lake bed. If that was the case, then she had to proceed with caution. Turning and running pell-mell back through the woods was foolish and dangerous, so instead she slowly released her breath, and keeping her gaze fixed on the area in front of her, began to walk backwards.

Another snapping of twigs caused her pulse to jump sharply, and this time she caught a glimpse of what had made the noise. A small dark gray form that remained close to the ground flashed quickly in and out of view, though it had moved much too fast for her to get a good look at it. It vanished back into the brush, and aside from her own steady breathing, the area was curiously devoid of noise. No birds sang in the trees, no insects chirred in the tall dry grass bordering the dry river bed, nothing. Nothing that is, except whatever animal she had disturbed with her impulsive antics.

She lowered her arm and felt the weight of the remaining five rocks in her pocket. That had been a shame tossing the other four away like that, but no matter. Perhaps she would return on another day to search for them on the opposite side of the river bed, perhaps not. For now it was best to get back home and start prepping the dinner she had promised Tom and his friends.

A quick glance at her watch revealed that it was nearly eleven. If she turned back now she could be home within an hour. That would give her at least five or six more hours to tidy up the house so that it looked more presentable—by this point the dust and cobwebs were evenly matched—and then she could shower and change while dinner made itself in the slow cooker.

She continued to back out of the riverbed slowly and in reverse, and when she reached the opposite bank she turned around and made her way steadily and calmly back the way she had come.

Photo credit: Phil Perkins--Fine Art America