Circles

By Afri'na Annie Coffman

It’s no surprise to her.
Not the first one anyway. But then another? And fresh on the heels of those two, yet one more?
For Rory it’s all rather overwhelming. And what of the way she takes it all in stride? That perplexes him. Not one, not two, but three! But those three bring a continuous buzz of excited, cheery activity. It threatens to burst the walls of their little blue house. It’s infectious! And so, Rory often can be seen laughing, laughing aloud at the mayhem. And at times, he chuckles quietly to himself at his good fortune, his raw luck at having stumbled into this wonderful chaos. And so, soothed, Rory settles in to become who he has always been meant to be.
Then, almost without warning, two of them are gone.
Although saddened, Afri’na again is stoic. As she had with their astonishing arrival, so too does she accept their sudden departure as nothing less than preordained. But Rory, he loves his ‘them kids’ with every ounce of himself.
When they arrived from somewhere out of the blue Afri’na lit the way for him. But now, now they’re gone. Will he be able to follow her lead this time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Afri'na Annie Coffman
• Release date: Nov 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310869815

Book preview

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Copyright © Del Springer, 2015

All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without written permission.

This is a work of fiction. Its characters are solely products of the author’s imagination. Likewise, the small prairie town and its environs where much of the story takes place are pure fantasy. Excepting brief references to actual, well-known historical events, names, places and happenings in the story are imaginary or are used fictitiously.

ISBN 978-0-9947916-2-7

Cover images licensed from istockphoto.com, © LeitnerR and © whiterabbit83

Title page image licensed from CanStockPhoto.com, Seamartini

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This book is the third episode in A Series of White Lies, a family saga consisting of four novella-length stories:

Elders, Children, Flying Saucers and fences

A Day in the Life

Circles

Expecting To Fly

The author may be contacted by email at [e-mail]

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Hold on to what is good,

Even if it's a handful of earth.

Hold on to what you believe,

Even if it's a tree that stands by itself.

Hold on to what you must do,

Even if it's a long way from here.

Hold on to your life,

Even if it's easier to let go.

Hold on to my hand,

Even if someday I'll be gone away from you.

… A Pueblo Indian Prayer

PART ONE: HOLD ON TO WHAT IS GOOD

Afri’na was exhausted.

She had always been enormously energetic. Compact and powerfully built, she possessed extraordinary physical stamina. Her mental sharpness, having been highly honed in a life-long affable sparring match with her grandfather, was every bit a match for her bodily prowess. She was a most good natured and good hearted person, having been lovingly raised by a grandmother known as the beautiful one – this not only for her long black hair and dramatic dark eyes but too for her grace and kindness. Afri’na was full to overflowing with spunk and determination, ready to throw everything she could muster at whatever challenge that presented itself. But today, oh mercy, on this day…

Afri’na was exhausted.

Eating Crow

About ten years earlier …

"That’s him."

No way, how can you know that?

Blearily he eyeballed two crows sitting on a park bench jabbering at each other in the dim light.

Because I just know, that’s how.

Caw-kaak-kaak, You old coot.

I told you.

That’s just a lost, good for nothing, aimless hobo, just a worthless gypsy drifter.

Not!

You crazy jailbird, look how dirty his clothes are.

Ha! Who cares – clothes, shmothes. Glunk-kunk.

You’re magingnation is running away with you.

I knew he’d find his way back here.

Caw-aw-caw-aw-caw-aw. He looks hungry.

That’s my smart boy. I knew he could do it!!!

Kaak kaak kaak kaak kaak kaak. Terribly scrawny! Skinny! A starving beady eyed beanpole of a creature. How will he ever provide for her?

My smart boy! Well ruffle my feathers!! HOT DAMN!!!

Caaawk. Caaawk. Can’t even feed his own scrawny self.

He stretched.

Look! He’s waking up!

Oh mercy.

He looks really alert, and smart – for one of them.

He looks hungry to me. Are we safe on this bench?

He looks handsome – for one of them – and talented too.

Caw-kaak-kaak. You silly old pecker.

Yours is a lucky girl!

I won’t be surprised if he wants to eat us!

He’s kind; and intelligent too – at least for one of them.

Can’t see how he can ever amount to anything but a saggy bag of bones.

Glunk.

Not good enough for my girl. Glunk!

Kaak-kaak. When was your lobotomy you bird brain?

Caw-aw-caw-aw. Looks hungry. DON`T TRUST HIM!!!

You can see in his eyes how very, very intelligent he is!

He slipped out of the sleeping bag.

That’s a dirty look he’s giving us. Caaawk! He’s glaring at us! Caawk! He’s scaring me. Caaawk! Shit, he’s up! Look how big the bastard is! Caaawk! He’s coming after us! Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw!! I’m getting out of here.

There ensued a feverish beating of black wings and a lot of yelling as the one chased after the other up to a high branch in the tall tree. Once there the two recommenced the bristly diatribe that the ugly featherless human had so rudely interrupted.

He ambled into some underbrush to relieve himself.

"Look at that!!! Caw-aw caw-aw. CAW-AW!

Gllllunk! You’re right this time.

That thing is a GUN. It’s a cannon. Gululp!

Yeeee Yaaaa!

There’s gonna be lots of them kind of little ones around here!!!

He stood at the end of the driveway looking in at the little blue house.

He’s GOIN’ IN!!!!!!

Bwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaakkk!!!

This is it. Caw-aw-caw-aw-caw-aw.

Caw-aw-caw-aw-caw-aw. I’m starting to get into this.

"Have a seat." The man pointed unnecessarily to the only spot available, an old wooden two-seater porch swing.

He’s gonna ask the old man. Wheeee heee Caw-aw-caw.

Caw-aw-caw-aw I do like a good romance story.

Caw-aw. I told you. Caw-aw-caw-aw. See? Didn’t I tell you? Caw-aw-caw-aw-caw-aw. Caw-aw-caw-aw-caw-aw.

Aw shut your fowl beak. Caw-aw-caw-aw-caw-aw.

Why don’t you flock off? Bwaaaaakkk.

CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWW.

And stay flocked off. BWWWWAAAAAAAAAK.

"Kaaak-kaak-kaak. You’re bitter ‘cause you got your wings clipped ‘cause I told you it was him. Kaak-kaaak-kaak.

Glunk.

Kaak-kaak-kaak. I told you. I knew he’d find his way back here. Kaak-kaak-kaak. Forty-three years ago I told you. Kaak-kaak-kaak-kaak-kaak-kaak. I’m the smart one. Kaak-kaak-kaak-kaak-kaak-kaak."

The older man glanced up into the high branches of the big tree. Don’t mind those two. In no time at all you will see them perched side by side leaning exhaustedly on each other for support, old friends having a morning siesta.

Glunk.

You getting sleepy yet pal? Glunk. Caw.

Elders, Children, Flying Turtles & Stones

On a fine morning in early summer, right around a year after his arrival, she told him it was time.

Time for what?

Oh, uh, stones. Yeah. I need some stones. …

They found him on a bluff above the river, near a lofty rock formation known to the locals as tall bear.

The man was the first to spot him. (He wasn’t really, but Afri’na graciously let him think that he was.) His sharp eyes picked up on the erratic movement of tiny fingers and a flash of red.

All was well and good.

Little Tucker was a fine boy. He was the cutest little guy with his ultra-curly dirty blond hair and his mischievous sparkling sky blue eyes. He was peppy and bubbly and brimmed over with curiosity. He was just what you would want, a bright lively child – challenging and rewarding.

By the time he was two years old little Tucker could walk and run and dance and to some extent he could talk. And he could climb, he could really climb. Up was his specialty, down his weakness. His grandparents were required to perform many a rescue off of a lofty chair or sofa or bed or table or counter. Occasionally they had to console the little daredevil following a spectacular thumping, bumping tumble. Soon enough though, the wailing ceased and the fearless human mountain goat would be grinning and off in search of his next vertical conquest. The boy loved to snuggle down for a nap with old Lonesome, loved to chase the chickens and loved to holler at the two old crows who often sat on the park bench across the street gripped in a pitch battle, squawking raucously at each other.

Above all Tucker was just plain fun to have around.

Afri’na and Rory were delighted to be grandparents.

~

On a fine morning in early summer, right around a year after Tucker’s arrival, she told him it was time.

Yep, it’s true.

WHAT?

I said it’s time.

Stones again?

Her eyes were large and dark and ever irresistible to the poor man.

We already had ‘time’.

Well, I guess we’re going to get to do double time.

Can’t we opt out? We aren’t’ exactly as young as all that.

I don’t think opting in, out or sideways is on the table.

Good grief.

You know how it is. When the itch strikes you have to scratch it.

Good grief.

Ready?

No. I’m not ready. What can I say?

You might just as well say ‘ready’. Am I right?

Good grief.

I AM right.

What can I say? C’mon Tucker. C’mon Lonesome. Grandmother wants to go collect more stones …

They found her on a bluff above the river, near a lofty rock formation known to the locals as tall bear.

The little boy was the first to spot her. (He wasn’t really, but Gampa let him think that he was.) His curious blue eyes picked up