Stories from Lone Moon Creek: Shepherd’s Bay

By Teresa Millias

Cumulatively, with the first six books revolving around the folks from Lone Moon Creek, you’ve discovered what emanates from the lives of its rural inhabitants. Was there something glimmering underneath and through the 125 stories? Even though each saga was as different as night is from day, there were many ‘cobblestones in the creek’s bottom’ that resembled the themes of rural influence: kindness, forgiveness, patience, fortitude, perseverance and humbleness.

In contrast, you undoubtedly uncovered how the rustic virtues were attacked and how the endurance of goodness had to fight in order to prevail.

Now, in book seven, “Shepherd’s Bay,” the stories still ripple and surge forward gathering more and more strength just as does moving water in search of its resting place.

Will it be possible for “The Accountant,” who has the final say in the lives of the negligent, selfish people, to lead them safely to any kind of a peaceful bay?

Does the young rebel trade the values of his mother and teachers’ for the ‘glamour’ of going on the road in “The School of Hard Knocks?” Would there be any peaceful waters there?

Could “Judith’s Twin,” the black sheep of the family be found to be their father’s favorite child?

The sagas twirl and twist and surge over anything in their way, just as does a forceful moving body of water. Agnes and Marjory continue to try and stabilize their environment, but how much can they be of an influence when the stories are on a rampage?

How much longer can Marjory endure the estrangement from her parents? Her entire life has led to barriers across the river of hope. Agnes has tried every angle to puncture the barricades of information with no success in bringing relief to her Marjory.

Will the Lone Moon Creek water which once rippled and reflected, splashed, meandered and glowed mysteriously, flow into the bay to be at peace... before Marjory can find her peace?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brighton Publishing LLC
• Release date: Sep 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9781621834991

Teresa Millias

Teresa Millias was born in Cooperstown, NY and lives in Worcester, NY. She attended the K-12 Central School in Worcester and graduated with eighteen others in her Senior Class.Continuing her education, she received her degree in Elementary Education from SUNY at Oneonta, New York.Teresa taught Kindergarten and First Grade at Worcester CS for twenty-five years developing the love of reading and writing.She has always had a fondness for the arts and has delved into painting, piano education, creativity, garden sculpting, quilting and writing.She says rural life has a kindness and goodness with a touch of mystique which she tries to describe in her stories.

Book preview

Book Seven: Shepherd’s Bay

Teresa Millias

Brighton Publishing LLC

435 N. Harris Drive

Mesa, AZ 85203

www.BrightonPublishing.com

ISBN13: 978-1-62183-499-1

Copyright © 2018

eBook

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Cover Design: Tom Rodriguez

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. The characters in this book are fictitious and the creation of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to other characters or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher or copyright owner.

Prologue

No one in Lone Moon Creek ever thought to calculate the volume of water that had passed through their town. After all, who even knew how long the rural stream had navigated in its travels?

What else goes unnoticed in a town? In its people? In one’s own life?

Be it best that it is that way? Perhaps… after all, trying to calculate, store and regurgitate every detail, is impossible.

Some things take care of themselves as does the frigid water which surges through the banks of the stream in the novice springtime but warmly languishes along in the autumn. The hot summer sends the water away, causing children to wonder why there is only enough to cover their toes and who knows what activity transpires under the frozen lid of winter?

Was it the science students who began their education in the K through 12 central school who revealed to the elders that their creek travels through several states to eventually deposit itself into Shepherd’s Bay? The Bay which was part of the ocean?

Nah, I can’t believe that, old Sinclair Lewton smiled as he stared intently into his great grandson’s face. I don’t know what you been learnin’, but it sounds nonsense to me.

Most in Lone Moon Creek had their notions as to where people departed to when they left this earth however, and actually spent much more time thinking about that as compared to the whereabouts of the creek water.

Open the cover of Shepherd’s Bay and begin to wonder–Where will this journey lead? Will I ever come across these characters again? Did their lives have any effect on myself? What purpose did Agnes and Marjory, who dutifully led us into each chapter, have in the rural life of Lone Moon Creek? Did I come to any conclusions that rural America is worth saving?

Hm, interesting, pondered old Cy Chadwick, as he sat on the edge of his abandoned hay wagon and looked across the field.

"Grandma, let’s go back home on that road."

"I know why you want to go that way!"

"Yeah, tell me again about the town–the one that looks like a ghost town now."

"Well, I’ve heard tell...."

Chapter One

The Ghost Town

Sweet were the breezes that hailed and sailed along the roof tops and tickled the crops in the fields. Pleasant were the words of the people who experienced the breezes. Empathetic was the governing body which provided the rules for the people who inherently spoke pleasantries as they inhaled deeply of their little, rural town–Evenville.

In the center of Evenville was the heart–some say they could hear the pulse, the beat, the quiet pounding of something inside the newspaper office as they walked past, probably the old fashioned printing press, they surmised, as they took the sound as normal. After all it was just another comforting sound that emanated from Evenville. Just as Kernin would be in his bakery early in the morning kneading the soft dough with inaudible punches but contrasting whaps as he lifted the dough to let it slap down upon his floured worktable or the paperboy who quietly rolled through the morning town on his bicycle with no clamor just the newspaper resting with a plunk on someone’s porch. As the sawmill nestling into its monotonous drone or old Whitney Blomb who would still go to town in the black surrey while his horse made its hooves sing out a muted clippity clop, the soft throbbing sound coming from the newspaper office was of no worry.

Stretching outward from the center of town were more businesses which allowed for charitable contributions to all sorts of causes. Everyone knew the need of helping others and gladly complied either monetarily or physically.

And what kept the heart beating in the center of town throughout the decades? Was it Les and Millie? Of course! Without them, the Echo would not be the most coveted and popular reading material beginning every Thursday morning at 10:00.

Les and Millie lived in the print shop. After putting the paper ‘to bed’ they merely had to climb the backstairs to go to their bed. However, with the stairs getting more and more a test of endurance and agility, they slowly adapted the street floor for their convenience. In the back of the building by the windows a hot plate appeared, a small refrigerator, table and chairs and even two recliners which their son had shipped to Evenville to go upstairs into their apartment.

The day a large furniture truck parked in front of the Echo and two burly men unloaded one large recliner and then another, the townspeople knew the commotion out front was going to lead to a story in the paper. Les looked at the size of the superior quality leather chairs and knew they would never fit through the narrow confines of the stairway.

Well, mother, he remarked after assessing the situation, wouldn’t it be nice to have those in our little sanctuary by the windows? Millie agreed. It was nice having the luxury of stretching out for a few minutes in the plushness of the soft leather which warmed itself from the sunlight.

Ah, was the one and only expletive which they both uttered as they settled back. From there they could look out upon Wilson’s Folly. Yes, it was Wes’ father who bought the land which extended clear from the street, across a rocky pasture, to the swamp, across the creek and up the steep hillside to the horizon, becoming known as Wilson’s Folly.

"What did you buy that for? There’s nothing you can do with that chunk of land."

"I think you got ‘taken for a ride.’"

"Can’t even put a flock of sheep out there," were all comments the little boy heard sail at his father, as the elder Wilson only smiled.

Now Wes Wilson II can smile in his newspaper office and peer from his back windows at the totally uninhabited stretch of nature which displays a glorious scene through each season of the year.

There were investors, over the years, claiming they could have roads carved into the hillside and houses built so that new inhabitants would have an ideal vantage point of the little hamlet as they gazed outwards and downwards. But Wes Wilson held tight to his father’s folly knowing it was no folly anymore. Besides, Millie would have thrown him into the creek if he ever disturbed her idyllic view.

The subscribers to the Echo would also be up-in-arms if Millie didn’t include her weekly feature: A Backwards View, which stemmed from the folly. In that column, readers devoured everything they wanted to say about their neck-of-the-woods but didn’t know how to say it. Her words reminded the readers of why they lived in beautiful Evenville. It was her words that made others brave when they had to defend against nay-sayers who tried to convince the inhabitants to relocate; that they didn’t want wider sidewalks or houses with drowning mortgages or buildings so aloft they blocked the sunlight.

But it takes more than one well-grounded column to make a newspaper. That’s where Millie comes to the forefront again! As soon as the phone starts ringing at 8:59, Wes hollers, You’re up, Mil!

"Good morning, the Echo here. Connie, hello! Oh, that sounds like it was fun. Did you say there were seventeen kids at your daughter’s sixteenth birthday party? Got it. Yes, it’ll be in this week’s edition."

"Echo, here. It’s Millie. Really? That’s wonderful! You’ll go through eight states? Yes, and congratulations on your new grandson. Have fun."

"The Echo, good morning. Twenty-six years? Wow, that must have been some reunion; that was a long time not seeing your sister. I’m so happy for you, Charlotte."

"Ray, you’re joking. No? From our creek right here? Well, I’ll be. A twenty-five inch trout? Okay, I’m putting it in but you know we have seasoned fishermen in this town. If this isn’t accurate they’re going to know it. Be prepared. What’s that? You meant to say fifteen inches? Okay."

"Hi Carrie. You want everyone to know that you had a dinner party for twelve people? Okay, got it."

"Yes, Kathleen. Your husband is having a sale on motor oil and tires? That sounds like an ad–I’ll let Kiara handle that for you.

You’re welcome and I know Wes needs some new tires, I’ll be sure he checks that out."

Kiara pick up line three. You have an ad.

"Good morning, yes it’s Millie. Oh my goodness, Rhonda, you’re back from your vacation! How was it? Yes, I’ll definitely include that; weren’t you at the right place at the right time!"

"Echo Center! The six of you cleaned along the highway? I’ll surely included that in my ‘Community News’ plus …I’ll have Wes do a feature article on that! What time can he interview you?

"Great."

Wes, can you run over to the Lioni’s and interview them for a story? They and four others cleaned along the highway.

"Echo. Oh, I’m sorry to hear that Josey. Yes I’ll put the address of the Nursing Home in the paper so your mother can receive cards. I know, it’s not easy is it? Give her my best.

I’m heading over to the school, Wes announced as he grabbed his notepad. Kiara, get the camera. See you later, he hailed as the two of them rushed out.

"You visited who? Millie asked. Ah, got it. She took you through her entire garden and you had quite a horticultural lesson. I bet you did. Aren’t those gardens of hers beautiful? We did a huge story with pictures on that last year. Oh, I’m glad that’s where you got the idea to go there."

"Thanks for calling the Echo. Our Ads Lady isn’t here right now; can I have her call you? Thanks."

Come in Kernin, Millie motioned to the white aproned, flour dusted man as she held the phone with the other hand. Oooo, what are they today? she asked as she stood up to take the daily parcel from his hands.

Yeast dough, apple cinnamon doughnuts, he beamed proudly.

Ah, you’re the best, thank you. I’ll put your weekly-specials-ad on Kiara’s desk. She’ll be back in a while but I don’t know if I can wait for them to return or not. I might have to have my doughnut right now!

Millie listened to Kernin’s voluptuous laugh sail across the street to his bakery as she slowly opened the lid.

"Oh, hello Ruth. Yes, I can put that in. The Heritage Girls will meet at your house at 3:30 on Wednesday. Thanks Ruth."

"They were guests at your house last week? Nice. Now how are they related? Really? Very interesting."

Sorry Millie, Marcus wanted you to see his cast, Mrs. Callas panted as she tried to collar her son.

Marcus! What happened to you? I fell out of a tree, he laughed.

Did it hurt?

Naa, I’m tough.

Do you think I should put this in the paper?

Oh yes, he replied seriously. This really is BIG news!

Thanks, Marcus shouted as he dashed out of the door.

Marcus, Marcus, you wait for me! The mother too, ran for the door.

Millie chuckled as she ceremoniously lifted her doughnut from the box.

"No, Ann, I’m not particularly busy," she said as she eyed her delicacy waiting for her. What do you have for me? Your chickens got loose and the neighbors spent two hours getting them back home for you? What good neighbors those Berjinsky’s are! Wasn’t it last year that they helped you with the cows? Thanks Ann. Your son is coming home from the army next week? I am so happy for you, Ed. Sure I’ll put that in; everyone has been waiting for that good news.

Oh, good, you waited for us, Wes ventured to say as he and

Kiara came through the front door. I’ll warm up the coffee. I got some great shots in the school today, the young photographer uttered excitedly. "The second graders were in full costume at their dress rehearsal; a high school class was working with the fifth graders on their new tablets; an art class was hanging mobiles in the hallways and the cafeteria ladies were frosting surprise cupcakes for the school nurse’s birthday today!

Great! Wes, did you get your article?

I sure did. The grant came through! So the school administrators are ecstatic about the new equipment they’ll purchase for next year! How about you? You been busy?

About average I’d say, Millie answered almost drooling for her doughnut.

Kiara, will you have time today to pay a visit to the French ladies house?

"I think I can fit that in. This week will be part four in my series."

I know! And our readers are loving it! For so long we knew nothing about those women and now … well, it’s a good thing you can speak French.

I’m getting so attached to them; they are very pleasant and the progress they have made in speaking English is remarkable.

Who’s teaching them? How are they learning? Wes asked as he poured the coffee.

Two of them could speak English when they came to this country and guess what they read every week? "The Echo!" Both owners regaled together.

But they don’t just read it they READ it!

What do you mean? Millie managed to ask as the pure delight of the sweet pastry erased every care of the world.

They told me that every time I interviewed them, but until recently I never quite understood what they meant.

What? The naturally inquisitive newspaper man asked.

They remember what they read and who they are reading about and those are the people they pray for, Kiara explained pensively as she slowly stirred her coffee.

Wes and Millie looked at each other. Interesting, they both uttered simultaneously.

Millie knew that with the last bite, which she refused to swallow until it became nothing but liquid honey the phone would ring... and it did.

"Good morning, the Echo. Jolene, hi. Yes, nice day. Your son is going into the military? Of course, we’ll put that in the paper. Those boys and girls are very special to all of us."

"Echo here. Really? You’ll do just fine Gertie; you and Arnold will give her a fine home until her parents can get through that darn old cancer crisis. No, I won’t print any of that, I’ll just say you will have a houseguest for a few months. You’re welcome."

"You want to run a full page ad on all the old vehicles you have parked across your property? And everything that is stored in your barns and sheds? Well, John, what’s gotten into you? Oh, Louise has ‘put her foot down’, I see. You’ll need to speak with Kiara about the ad. I’ll transfer you over to her and John, good luck!"

"Yes it is. Hi Natasha. Oo, that’s exciting. Imagine getting a chance to go to Europe to play soccer. Times sure are different, aren’t they? Tell him best wishes for me. Oh, in France! Great."

"Thanks, Homer, I’ll send him right down."

"Wes, the train has been blocking the crossing for almost an hour. Better get down there and see what’s going on."

As Wes went out the door, Kiara said, I think I’ll take this time to go to the French house.

Before Kiara turned onto the long upward-climbing driveway, she looked at the big house on the hill. She imagined as people drove by, they would also look up at the impressive structure and wonder what it was and who lived there. They never saw anyone out front only an occasional groundskeeper mowing on an always ‘slanted’ mower. The passer-byers didn’t know of the expansiveness that was in back of the building. Acres and acres of gardens and woods and pathways meant for contemplative thinking and walking and praying.

Little by little Kiara had graciously been introduced to the estate as she went weekly to do her news segment. But it wasn’t until last week’s interview did she learn that the ladies prayed for the people who lived in Evenville. For some reason, that fact captivated the thoroughly modern, young newspaper worker. She was totally intrigued by this disclosure. She had no trouble in understanding their joy even though they were away from their families and homeland, after all she herself had a brother and sister-in-law who now lived in Australia. After the excruciating period of watching her mother weep and wail, it was her brother’s directive of: Why can’t you just be happy for us ….was what made her mother think of them instead of herself.

Kiara also could see the camaraderie and respect the French women had for each other. She had that in her college sorority, well maybe not the respect like there was on the hill, but something that was supposed to be there.

And the work! She didn’t know women could do so such work! When she grew up, her dad and brothers went outside and did, well, whatever they did. But here, the animals, the land, the gardens, the produce, the window washing, the painting–almost everything was done by the women. Kiara looked at the lawn mower person leaning almost parallel to the ground keeping the machine from tipping over on the front hill.

Oo, did you get these from Kernin’s bakery? Kiara asked as a plate of pastries was placed on the veranda table. Angelique laughed as she replied in perfect English with a touch of the beautiful French dialect, Oh no, they were made right here!

You women are amazing! Kiara responded sincerely. You can do everything.

We learn from each other, Angelique spoke humbly. What made you come to America? Kiara suddenly asked remembering she was there on business.

We were asked to come here to teach.

To teach? Who were you going to teach? The interviewer asked innocently.

Angelique laughed again. "We were to be at the college over in

Mondale but then our contract was canceled."

What? Why?

They just said it wasn’t going to work out.

Well, that’s no reason. Did you get a lawyer? We have no money for a lawyer, she added sadly but immediately brightened with, Maybe it was us who were to be taught something!

What do you mean? Kiara asked with such intensity she forgot to take notes.

We thought we would be teaching American students but it looks like we are being taught much more from America.

What are you being taught?

That there is still goodness in this world, even with disappointments, people go on, they survive.

But how are you learning that?

Angelique leaned forward and smiled, From your newspaper. Is that why you said you pray for the people you read about?

Exactly, we sense their goodness and we want it to continue in this country.

Kiara leaned back in the wicker chair and exhaled.

Oh! she exclaimed as she suddenly jumped up. I’ve got to get back! I haven’t been watching the time; I’ve been so engrossed with your story! Thank you, you’ve given me a lot to think about. May I come again next week and may I take a picture of your beautiful rose arbor?

Yes and yes, Angelique giggled.

What was wrong with the train? Millie asked as she hung up the phone.

The engineer had a heart attack and the volunteer ambulance squad had a time getting to him. The engine was clear up by Millard’s pond and they had to walk through the swamp with a stretcher. They weren’t sure if they could get him out of the engine. Good thing big Bruce Jonkins and Finn McGanny were there or they never could have gotten him out.

***

Hi, how were the French ladies today?

They were all out back working except for Angelique. She sat and talked with me.

Did you find out anything new? I certainly did, Kiara declared.

Well, are you going to share it? Millie asked after there was no more response from her coworker.

Oh! Sorry, Kiara muttered as her face reflected how deep in thought she was. Did you know they came to America to teach at Mondale College and then suddenly were told they weren’t needed?

No, I didn’t know that. Are they fighting it?

They have very little money but somehow they have turned it around so that now they think perhaps they were sent here to be taught by the experience.

Wow, that is very mature thinking, Wes interjected as he too had been listening to Kiara’s story.

What have they learned? Millie questioned.

Angelique said they are learning about the goodness and compassion of the American people.

And how are they learning that?

In almost a whisper Kiara replied, From our newspaper.

Wes and Millie froze to the floor. If it hadn’t been for the heat in their own bodies, they may have stayed in that position for ever more. But finally they thawed enough to look into each other’s eyes. Wes recovered a little faster than Millie and he was able to speak: Let’s get movin’; we’ve got a newspaper to get out!

I better visit John about that full page ad. I can’t believe he wants to get rid of all that junk, Kiara announced.

"Don’t call it junk in front of John, those things mean something to him," Wes warned.

Yes, sir. I’ll grab lunch at the diner. See you later.

I have to follow up on the train story–can you wait about an hour before we have lunch?

Sure, Millie answered dreamily.

"Good afternoon. The Echo. You want to put it in the paper that your neighbor saved your cat? I guess we can do that. Your welcome."

"Hello, the Echo. Hi Francis, very well thank you. You are offering a ride to anyone who needs one so they can what? Oh, attend the concert in the park. That’s very nice of you."

"Hi Smitty. You want volunteers to help paint the fence at the little league field on Saturday. Okay, got it."

With every phone call, Millie couldn’t help but think what Kiara disclosed about the people of her town.

"Okay, Mil, put the answering machine on, you need a quiet lunch back here in fantasy land," Wes kidded with his wife as he opened a can of soup.

I guess it is sort of our fantasy land, she chuckled.

Hop in your recliner and get your feet raised; I’ll serve you today.

Oh my, such luxury, she exclaimed. Wes, look!

Lunch was spent in ‘the luxury’ of watching a mother doe and her fawn walk cautiously to the creek for a drink; espying a family of grouse marching along the hedgerow; laughing to see the blue heron lifting his legs to walk through the swamp and trading the magnifying glasses back and forth with directions as to where to point the lenses.

"Do you think you have enough information for your Backwards View column?"

Not unless I see that mother bear poke its head out from beyond those blackberry bushes one more time, she squealed as she quickly handed the glasses to Wes.

What’s all the excitement back there? Kiara asked as she returned.

Just watching our animals. How was your session with John?

Poor guy, he was in a real quandary. I thought he and his wife were going to have a ‘knockdown, drag out fight’ when we started. He’d change his mind on selling something and she’d go right at him with threats. I was really getting scared.

What did you do? How did it end?

Well, Kiara responded with a faraway look, "I don’t know what came over me, but in my desperation I …And this was like out of the blue ….I spoke up and asked John how the orphanage was doing."

What orphanage? Millie asked like a true reporter.

I don’t know! I don’t even know why I said that.

What did he say?

"His wife, whose eyes had been livid with fire, went right to him to put her arm around his shoulder and the two of them sort of melted."

You better explain, Wes said as he came closer.

Well, the bottom line is, they are going to sell everything out in the yard and in the barns and donate the proceeds to the orphanage that John grew up in.

I’ll be jiggered, Wes responded as the two women looked at each other wondering the same thing about the French women.

There it was, the weekly Echo, stretched across kitchen tables, opened on couches, laying across counters, pressed flat on top of hay bales, propped against the dashboard of those eating lunch in a vehicle, upright by those sitting on benches in the park, strewn across a car’s hood in the local garage, propped open with a stone on a back porch and sailing through the skies going to relatives and friends all over the world–their taste of home.

For a short hour, people could read and escape; laugh and become nostalgic; reminisce and empathize; remember and wonder.

People lingered over Millie’s Backward View column, pondering over phrases such as: a blue prince walked pompously amongst the reeds, the reeds which were his subjects… her big brown eyes kept the spots in sight every minute as she dared to venture out of their refuge… the marching orders were short and sweet never giving the little feathered ones any notion of not following them to a T… the woods were juicy, full of watery sap and ambition… had they decided not to be debutants and expose their dark purple, dripping, delicious bulbous selves this year?

Kiara’s photographs were exquisite. Both Wes and Millie were taken by her eye for the creative and were just as anxious as she was to have a telescopic lens soon which her father had promised her for her birthday. Kiara was looking forward to standing at an open back window to zoom in on all that Millie detected.

Wes had all the facts with: Engineer has Coronary, Crossing

Blocked; School Receives Grant; Student to Play Soccer in

France; Town Board to Discuss Signs; Little League Fence Needs Advertisers; Locals Clean Along Highway; Vacancy on School Board; Firemen Save House.

Kiara had the paper full of ads with the most spectacular being the full page ad for John’s sale. With the proceeds going to an orphanage, the buzz through town was that people, who never would have participated, were going!

One by one, readers navigated through Millie’s Social Announcements. What was there about reading through other people’s business? Some said it was interesting, some said informative, others–fun! Whatever need it satisfied, it was popular.

Then there was Kiara’s column on the French Ladies. Wes didn’t know what the reaction would be this week when they read how the women’s teaching jobs were suddenly dismissed at the college. Or how his subscribers would react to them being so poor, but managing by doing as much as they could for