From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 9, A Gift From Gordon

 This is episode nine of the novel, From Here To 1137. 

  If you would like to purchase "From  Here to 1137," it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or 

paperback.

A Gift From Gordon

Early the next day, Tome drove a lumbering combine down the farm’s lane toward the soybean field. A large oak stood at the intersection of two lanes. Tom grinned as he approached the oak. He thought it was incredible how such a nondescript tree held so many good memories. He had sat there many times with his dad. He would be working in the fields, and Tom would bring a lunch or a cool drink on a hot summer day. And his mother did the same thing when Tom worked the fields on a hot summer day. They would lean against the tree and talk. They talked about life. 

As Tom drove the combine closer, a man dressed in clean farmer’s clothing came out from behind the tree. Tom stopped the combine and climbed down the ladder to the cab.

It was an unusual occurrence; nobody waits in a field like that for someone. 

Tom walked toward the man. He was very ordinary, having no distinguishing features. He wore clean jeans, a red flannel shirt, and a canvas jacket. 

“Can I help you, sir?” Tom asked.

“Yes, you can really help me.”

Tom held out his hand, and they shook hands.

“My name is Tom Bales.”

“My name is Gordon.”

“Well, Gordon, it’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise,” Gordon said.

“So, how can I help?” Tom asked again.

“Well,” Gordon said, “I have something for you. You could say it’s a gift, but with the gift comes some responsibility.”

“Did Gene Francis send you?” Tom asked.

“No,” Gordon said. “For a while, you will think I’m crazy, and I escaped from an insane asylum.”

“So you didn’t escape,” Tom joked, “you were released?” 

Gordon chuckled. “Let me start by saying, I’m from a long way off.”

“As long as you don’t say from another galaxy, we’re okay.”

“Actually, I am from another galaxy.”

“Okay,” Tom said, “I have a thermos of coffee in the cab. Tell me which pocket your pills are in, and we’ll wash them down with the coffee.”

Gordon held a cordial smile.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Tom said.

“I am,” Gordon said.

“You are smiling,” Tom said cocking his head to the side. “I’m not sure if that’s reality or fantasy.”

Gordon continued to smile and laugh.

“Nah,” Tom joked, “I’ve seen a few sci-fi  movies and aliens don’t have a sense of humor.”

“We do,” Gordon said.

“So is this where I’m supposed to ask for some sort of proof?” Tom asked.

“This is the place,” Gordon said.

“You’re not going to paralyze me or abduct me to your spaceship?” Tom asked.

“Only if you want me to,” Gordon said.

“So what are you going to do?” Tom said.

Gordon stepped beside Tom. “Tom, turn around.”

“No funny stuff,” Tom said, and he turned.”

“Tell me what you see?” Gordon asked, nodding toward the corn field.

“What would you like me to see?” Ton glanced suspiciously at Gordon. 

“Just look and tell me,” Gordon said.

“A harvested field of corn,” Tom said. “And what is left of the cornstalks. They’re brown. A quarter mile away is a fence row, and a road, and beside it runs a creek. Gray sky. What else?”

“Keep looking,” Gordon said. 

Then Gordon said as if speaking to the empty field. “Pod, appear.”

Tom squinted, and before him, gradually appearing, was a wavy transparent strip. It first appeared like the heat off the road on a hot summer day. It was mid-fall and chilly. Then a dull black object came into focus. He felt no fear, only wonderment. He glanced at Gordon. Words caught in his throat.

Gordon placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder after only a moment. Then a fully formed cylindrical object appeared, slightly longer than a diesel locomotive. What appeared to be a windshield wrapped around the front. The object hovered about three feet off the ground.

“That’s yours,” Gordon said. 

“What is it?” Tom said. “Will it pick soybeans?”

Gordon smiled. “I’m not sure about the soybeans, but for lack of better words,” Gordon winced, “you can call it a spaceship.”

“It’s mine?” Tom questioned. “Can I take her for a spin around the solar system? I don’t have a license, but I can drive that there combine.”

Gordon tossed his head toward the vessel. “Let’s go inside.”

They walked toward it. “Pod open,” Gordon said.

A door opened on the side, steps extended, and Tom and Gordon climbed them into the spaceship.

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 8, A Big Decison

 This is episode eight of the novel, From Here To 1137. 

  If you would like to purchase "From  Here to 1137," it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or 

paperback.

A Big Decision

Tom completed harvesting all the corn. He stored it in the farm’s granary. He scooped two buckets full of corn and spread it in the trough for the cattle. He then worked a whole day preparing the combine to harvest soybeans. 

Next, he planted winter wheat. That took a couple of days.

The next day, he drove into Gene Francis’s office. He explained over the phone that he had a few important matters to discuss.

Gene invited Tom into his office and offered a chair in front of his desk. Gene leaned forward and crossed his arms on his desk.

Tom could not ignore the serious look on Gene’s face. Tom sensed bad news was about to be delivered.

”How are you doing, Tom?” Gene asked with a painful smile.

“I’m doing good,” Tom said, trying to match the seriousness he saw on Gene’s face.

“Have you heard from Edgar lately?” Gene asked.

Tom leaned forward. “This isn’t about him, is it?” And added wryly, “Is he okay?”

Gene gave a relaxed grin. “I’m curious. That’s all. But actually, I have some things to share with you. After that, I want you to think. Take your time, get some advice, and go talk to people; get their advice.”

“Sure,” Tom swallowed. His heart beat heavily. He could not imagine what Gene had in mind. He was only certain of one thing: it could not be worse than the death of his mother.

Gene handed a folder to Tom. “In this folder is the complete breakdown of the farm’s finances.”

“And it doesn’t look good?” Tom said.

“No,” Gene said, “it doesn’t. I’ve talked to some farmers, bankers, and accountants. I wanted sound advice. I’ll let you do the same.”

“Gene,” Tom smiled, “I know this is hard for you, so just save yourself some grief and get me to the bottom line; is it best we sell the farm?”

“That’s an option,” Gene said. “There is a huge debt. Your mom’s treatments weren’t covered by her health insurance, and the cost is, in my opinion, astronomical. Some of the money to finance Edgar’s education was a collateralized loan. That’s the money he owes.”

“And the only collateral is the farm, right?” Tom said.

“Exactly,” Gene said. “Katy did a masterful job of juggling money to pay incoming bills. It looks as if she and your dad had some stocks that could have helped greatly, but the company went bankrupt a little more than a year ago.”

“Is there a way out besides selling?” Tom asked. 

“As trustee, I can consolidate all debts and get a loan,” Gene said. “But I might have to put up some of my own collateral. Which I am willing to do with nothing more than a handshake and a look in the eye.”

“Nah, Gene, I can’t do that. I appreciate it, and I know it’s not an empty offer. In fact, I know you well enough that you’d like to do it, but I can’t let ya.”

“It’s not charity,” Gene said. “It’s friendship.”

“I know that,” Tom said, “but I just can’t.”

“The farm, as it is, can sustain itself,” Gene said, “and meet all financial obligations. But it’s like this, a guy has to pay a thousand dollars a month for rent and utilities, and he only makes a thousand a month.”

Tom interrupted, “In other words, I’d have to eat with the cattle.”

“No,” Gene said, “there’s not enough to feed you from that either.”

“To keep the farm, I would have to take on a job,” Tom said.

“Yes,” Gene said. 

“Well,” Tom said, “I went to school and worked the farm. I guess I could find a job and work the farm.”

“What about your education, college?” Gene asked.

Tom grinned and let out a quiet laugh. “That wasn’t my dream. That was Mom’s and Dad’s. I’m a farmer. That’s as good as a lawyer.”

“Better,” Gene smiled broadly and leaned back in his chair. “You don’t know how many days I leave this office and wished I were climbing down off a tractor.”

“So what did your advisors think?” Tom asked.

“I presented the idea of you working,” Gene said. “However, you're a bad crop away from bankruptcy anyway you look at it. It’s not good. I want you so badly to keep the farm. As a friend, a good friend, as a friend of your mom and dad, and as a trustee, we should consider selling the farm.”

“Should we consider keeping it?” Tom said.

“As a friend, a good friend, as a friend of your mom and dad, as a trustee, no, that is not a good consideration,” Gene said. 

Tom smiled. “But it still is a consideration, though not good.”

Gene laughed heartily. “You are just like your dad and mom.”

“You couldn’t have said more encouraging words or tossed a better compliment my way,” Tom said. He stood. “I got some work to do. How long do I have until a decision has to be made?”

“Have a nice winter,” Gene stood. He walked around his desk and shook Tom’s hand.

“March 1st,” Tom said. “I’ll let you know then. And do I have to get a job right away?”

“Nah,” Gene said and stood, “there’s enough for you to have a good winter. Just run the farm like you normally would.”

On the way home from Gene’s office, Tom wore a wry smile on his face. “Welcome to life he said. Sometimes life kicks you in the teeth, punches you in the gut, or kicks ya square in the butt. Life, what else do you have to offer?”

From Here To 1137 AD; Episode 7, The Speech

 This is episode seven of the novel, From Here To 1137. 

  If you would like to purchase "From  Here to 1137," it is available on Amazon in Kindle format or 

paperback.

The Speech

Tom drove back to the grange. Debbie waited for him at the door.

“Hi, Debbie,” Tom said. “I saw you at the funeral, but I didn’t get a chance to greet you. I really wanted to talk to you. I wanted to thank you again for the other night.”

“You had your hands full,” Debbie said. “I knew you would eventually get to me.”

She held onto his hand. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” Tom smiled. “Don’t I look good. I mean, I'm a little worse for wear, but it’s been a tough ten days. I’m not like I was a week ago. I was a mess.”

“I’m talking about you and Edgar,” Debbie said.

“Edgar,” Tom said, “he’s fine. He really had to get back.”

She smiled. “Don’t mess with me, Thomas Randolph Bales.”

“What?” Tom said, feigning innocence. “I would never do that.”

“I heard the conversations with Gene Francis and the one you had in the car with Edgar.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom asked. 

“No,” Debbie said, “of course not. I was in the women’s bathroom at the funeral home. It’s next to the room you, Edgar, and Gene Francis were in. It just took me longer to tinkle than normal. I heard it all. Then I went out to get in the car. My car was next to yours and a little behind it. I was afraid of starting the motor and letting you know I was there.”

“Well,” Tom said, “honestly, I’m not feeling so good. Edgar is right, we never did have a connection. He was like a distant god to me. I didn’t know him, but I worshipped his image and what I thought he was. He was like this guy who was away in some distant land. He was smart and good-looking and talented. He was going to make a name for himself. Everybody used to ask about him. Teachers in school wouldn’t ask me how I was doing; they asked me if I had heard from Edgar lately, and how is he doing? Tell him I said, hi.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Debbie said. “I know you as well as anyone does. You’re smart. And that family picture of you on the buffet.”

“When I was eleven,” Tom said.

“Edgar was a young man in that photo,” Debbie said. “You were a boy. You are now a young man. You’ve grown into those teeth and ears, quite handsomely, I must say.”

They gazed momentarily at each other.

“Let’s get inside,” Tom said. 

“Yeah,” Debbie said, “there are folks who have yet to express their sympathies.”

A few more people were at the grange hall than at the funeral home. A table was set up that displayed photos of Katy Bales. Many of them were taken at various grange events.

Hank Somers stood in front of the display of photos. He blew into a standing microphone. “Can I have your attention?” He paused and waited for everyone’s attention. “I said about all that could have been said at the funeral home. I thought Edgar might be around to speak for the family, but Tom told me he was working on some very important cases back in New York. So we’ll just leave it at that. I know you all wanted to hear from him. There’s plenty to eat. It just started to rain, so there’s nothing to do. Stick around and enjoy each other’s company.”

“Let’s hear from Tom,” a voice said from the back of the room. Everyone turned around. It was Gene Francis.

Everyone was quiet. 

Hank lifted his head, looking for Tom. On seeing him, he said, “You wouldn’t want to say something, would you?”

Mr. Trusdale, Debbie's father, yelled out, “I sure would like him to say something.”

Others chimed in. Hank motioned for Tom to come forward.

Tom begrudgingly walked to the microphone.

“It ain’t gonna bite you, son,” Hank said and stepped away.

Tom cleared his throat. He looked at Debbie. She smiled.

“The only times I’ve talked in front of people were book reports,” Tom said nervously. “I just finished The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway.” He chuckled. “I don’t ‘spose you want me to report on it. It was pretty boring.”

Laughter waved over the room.

Tom smiled embarrassingly. 

“I guess there were two sides to Mom. At home, she shone, but here, among you folks, she sparkled. Or maybe that’s the other way around. Either way, I think you get it. When Dad died, Mom picked up the flag and charged forward. She kept the farm going. Edgar went off to college. It was just her and me. Funny, the last ten days, I thought about all our times together. It was as if every little thing she did and said was thought out well beforehand. Her words were like works of art. They painted beautiful pictures full of meaning. Each stroke blended with the last and prepared for the next.”

Tom heaved a deep breath and smiled. “Thanks for being here.”

Everyone applauded. 

The reception continued.

  Tom received many handshakes and hugs.

Gene approached Tom after a couple of ladies had talked with him.

“Nicely done,” Gene said. 

“I wish you hadn’t have done that,” Tom said. “I thought I was going to wet myself. It would have been better if Edgar were doing it.”

“Balderdash,” Gene said, “Edgar would still be talking—about himself. You were the man to do it. Edgar hardly knows your Mom, and you do. And that’s nobody’s fault but his. Believe me, your mom and I had many conversations about Edgar. By the way, what happened to Edgar?”

“I drove Edgar to a car rental,” Tom said. “He rented a car and headed to the airport.”

“I thought that wasn’t supposed to be until later on,” Gene said.

“He was really upset,” Tom said. “I’m glad he wasn’t here. He probably would have said or done something he’d regret later.”

“I doubt that,” Gene said. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I know a different side to your brother and not from your mother. She never talked badly about him, only heartbroken and perplexed.”

  Gene handed Tom an envelope. “Inside are two copies of your mom’s will. Send one to Edgar. Also, there’s some cash in there. The cash is for one purpose and one purpose only.”

“And that would be,” Tom looked side-eyed at Gene.

“The purpose is after this shindig his over, take Debbie Truesdale to a movie, and after the movie take her to the best place in town.” 

Tom hesitated and grinned.

“Tom,” Gene said, “it’s raining. You can’t pick corn in the rain.”

Tom winked. “Thanks, Gene.”

Indeed, Tom and Debbie took in a movie, went bowling, and enjoyed a meal at the best restaurant in town.