Circles in Circles

By Bill Lockard

Becky shook out her dark hair. So many things puzzled her, but she flashed a smile at Kyle. She has grown to know him through their adventures these past few years. They are now mentally and physically aware of each other and realize that they have a shared destiny.

Their story is played out against a background, which takes us from the high Californian mountains to the White House, USA. The two teenagers progress through separate high schools, but it is not until graduation that they start to make sense of some of the questions which have baffled them ever since the nearly fatal avalanche. They embark upon a special mission given to them by the Circles, who are mysterious but benign extraterrestrial beings intent upon helping the earth on its journey through space and time.

The road that Becky and Kyle begin to follow is a long one. It is full of surprises, odd characters, like Dillon and Smally, and personal discoveries. They learn a great deal about each other and start to experience the extraordinary life in store for them.

Travel the road with them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781503521407

Bill Lockard

Bill Lockard grew up in Appalachia, at times attending elementary school in bare feet. He graduated from an inner city high school in Washington, DC, in 1960. At that time, his guidance counselor advised he should never go to college. He entered the air force as a mechanic. When he started junior college while in the air force, he failed English three times. He later completed a bachelor of science degree from Sacramento State College and a master of business administration degree from California State University. He retired in 2002 from a career in industry, working for many years in Alaska, including work above the Arctic Circle. After retirement, he went to horseshoeing school and became a certified farrier. When his daughter was young, he would create many bedtime stories to tell her. He lives with his wife in a small town in northern New Hampshire and has a granddaughter with whom he continues to share his stories. Circles in Circles is his first novel.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Permanent Ink

It seemed as though the journey would never end, and Becky’s mind wandered while watching the snow-covered terrain pass in a white blur. The leafless black trees blended with the white snow, forming a grey monotony flowing from her window. Her eyes half closed with the boredom of the landscape. The lone song of the tire treads kept to the single beat rhythm of car wheels crossing the well-spaced cracks in the pavement. That thumping was the only music to listen to for Becky’s mother, Ellen, wasn’t a radio person, particularly a car radio, so musical entertainment couldn’t help the apparently endless time pass more quickly.

Becky and her brother, Ethan, had been instructed not to bring any cell phones on the trip as family conversations were to be the only source of entertainment. That meant no texting, no music, no movies, and, for Ethan, no games. It also meant for Becky and Ethan that the car ride lasted a lot longer. Becky thought that maybe she and Ethan should chat a bit more, although right now she didn’t feel like it. But the trip promised to be good when they finally got to the cabin; the skiing there was always fun, and the snow machine part was fantastic. Becky thought that next year she might get her own snow machine if all went well this year.

The families of the Markhams and the Lawsons had skied together for three days every winter for as long as Becky could remember during her short twelve years. Her mind flashed back to her mother telling everyone that she could ski before she could walk. Really, the skiing and the snow machine trip were fine; it was just the journey to get there that was so boring. She turned and looked at her younger brother, writing on small pieces of paper. She knew that he was an OK sort of brother most of the time. He was trying to alleviate the boredom as best he could. He was using his permanent ink to write secret notes to his pals, but their mother thought it was just ordinary old ink. If she found out it wasn’t, then Becky knew she’d be in trouble.

Looking at the back of her mother’s head, Becky rocked slightly in her seat. She thought about her mom—the person who kept them all on the straight and narrow, the one who demanded that she and Ethan ate properly with a knife and fork, the one who insisted that everything should be in its proper place. She looked at Ethan again and thought how creative he usually was. Her father understood him very well, but then her dad understood her as well. He and she had a special relationship she felt that they had really connected many times.

Becky twisted in her seat to look at the car following them. The Lawsons waved as they saw her looking back. Her mind drifted to the Lawsons’ son, Kyle. He was about her age but smaller than she was. Her dad was always talking computers with Kyle, but then her dad was mad about computers. She thought Kyle was OK, but it was a pity he was so shy. Her parents wanted her and him to do things together, but Kyle hung out with two or more computer nuts. Not my thing, thought Becky.

The vehicle slowed and then stopped. Mr. Markham got out to check the straps on the snow machine trailer. Becky knew that her dad was a compulsive checker. If he checked the straps once, he checked them every hour on the hour. Andrew Lawson was also a great checker, so the two of them checked the straps twice every hour. For Becky, it just added to the interminable boredom of the journey. Her mother leaned out of the car window and complained loudly, Everything will be worn out from all the checking! We’ll be at Dillon’s soon. Let’s go before we all freeze.

The cars gathered speed again, and they rolled back onto the concrete roadbed. The tire rhythm began again to the thumping from the road. Ethan focused his attention on the print on the inkbottle. He then looked at Becky and put his fingers to his lips to remind her of her promise of secrecy about the ink. He was going to write more secret notes. Becky turned away, feigning disinterest in what he was doing. Her glance fell on the gallons of maple syrup they were carrying in the back. She marveled at the amount they always transported to Dillon each year. Between themselves and the Lawsons, they had over ten gallons with them.

Dillon lived at the base of several trailheads, and they always stayed with him for an evening before they headed up the mountain on the snow machines. Becky remembered what a character he was. Andrew Lawson called him Marshall Dillon for Dillon was full of stories about the mountain and kept a close eye on those people who wanted access to the summit trail. Apparently, Dillon had inherited the land around his cabin from his relatives, and it had been in his family for many years. Becky knew that it was a beautiful location for a mountain cabin—right in the middle of a park with no other privately owned land for miles. Her father had told her that lots of people had tried to buy his property. Evidently it was surrounded by federal land, and the government had some sort of possible highway project planned; they’d tried to buy it in the last couple of years, but it still belonged to Dillon.

The tire sounds changed again as the cars turned off the main highway and headed the last few miles to Dillon’s cabin. Ethan had his ink bottle open, writing his notes to his friends again. As the wheels hit the bumpy road, the bottle lurched, and half the ink spilled out on Ethan’s new sweatshirt. He groaned, then with his eyes wide open looked helplessly at his mother as she turned around to see what had happened. She took a deep breath, reached under her seat, and passed back a towel. Ellen looked at Ethan just as she’d looked at Becky before, then she put her hand on her husband’s knee to keep him calm before saying coolly. Ethan, that is exactly why I asked you to keep the bottle closed while the vehicle is moving. Then Becky heard her mother mutter under her breath: Thank goodness it’s washable ink.

Becky knew only too well that the ink was permanent and that she was probably in deep trouble with her mom. She was supposed to take care of her small brother. But Becky hoped that everyone was in such a good mood looking forward to the trip up the mountain that maybe the reaction to the fact that it was permanent ink and not washable would pass without too much trouble. The weather for the upcoming trip was perfect, and Becky’s father, Steve, thought so too. This is as good as life gets when the mountain trip is under these sort of skies, he announced. Becky reached over and patted him on the shoulder. I know you like this part of the trip, Dad. It’s going to be huge fun, she told him. Steve smiled at his daughter in the rearview mirror, and Becky felt that they’d connected again. Ethan, hoping to divert attention from the ink situation, commented from the backseat, I hope my new coveralls are warmer than last year.

Chapter 2

Curiosities of the Cabin

The vehicles climbed for several more miles, and then in the distance, at the end of the valley, was the outline of a cabin. As they got closer, they made out smoke curling from Dillon’s chimney. Steve and Ellen began to discuss Dillon. Steve pointed to the cabin. Dillon doesn’t seem to mind the cold, and he keeps that cabin colder than any human being can stand it. Ellen followed up with I’m surprised he’s not sick all the time. It’s been like this for the past two or three years. Steve shook his head. He only starts the fire in that potbelly stove when he sees vehicles coming up the valley, he said. Ethan listened and then wanted to know if they’d have to walk the last mile to the cabin like they did last year. Steve replied that the walk would do everyone good after being so long in the car, but maybe the state had cleared the snow off the road all the way to the cabin this year.

With that, the road smoothed out and the tires made less noise than on the gravel. The trailer quit bouncing, and everyone drew an appreciative breath. Steve commented on the great job the state had done leveling out the road. Then Ellen started talking about Dillon again. I hope we don’t hear about that crazy circle business he spoke about last time, she said. Steve emitted a long sigh. I believe Dillon has mentioned circles for the last two or three years. I just hope his fantasy isn’t worse this time. But I always look forward to this annual visit with such a unique man, he said. Ellen muttered how last year he hadn’t even worn a sweater in his chilly cabin.

As they pulled up to the cabin, Becky noticed that the area in front of the cabin was as smooth as glass. In fact, it was so level it almost appeared to have been sprayed with a water hose. Dillon stood in front of his cabin with a smile from ear to ear, and Ellen immediately commented on the fact that he was wearing only a long-sleeved cotton shirt, light pants, loafers, and no socks. Dillon was very pleased to see everyone and even got down on one knee to say hello to Ethan. Then he immediately wanted to know if they’d brought any maple syrup for him, so Steve and Andrew glad-handed him and took him off to look in the back windows of the trucks. On seeing several gallon containers of syrup, Dillon snapped his fingers with delight and announced loudly, I like all of you!

Kyle’s mother, Theresa, led the way inside the cabin. Dillon showed everyone to their rooms and joked about the linen service. Even with the woodstoves burning, the whole cabin was very chilly. Steve and Andrew put their hands in front of the stove in the center of the living room to test the heat; it had obviously only been lit in the past few moments. Dillon said that the stoves in each room were also stoked, so it would be as warm as toast soon. He also announced that he had full hot water now, so everyone would be able to take a shower. Ellen was delighted with that news, and she hugged Dillon to show how pleased she was at the thought of a hot shower.

Then she walked over to Ethan. Lightly yanking at the stain on his sweatshirt, she said, Ethan, dear, get this off and take it into the kitchen to soak in cold water overnight. Becky thought that now her mom would walk over to upbraid her with her part in the ink business. She braced herself for the trouble she thought lay ahead.

But Steve and Andrew just continued to examine the woodstove. Puzzled by something, they walked back to the center of the room. Dillon drank three glasses of maple syrup straight off and then smacked his lips. Ellen looked at Dillon in amazement. She walked over to look at three thermometers that were dangling from some of the families’ equipment. She deliberately compared the readings on each one. It was evident that she didn’t believe what she read, and she stared at the third thermometer for a long time. Then she walked slowly away from the bag, letting the thermometer slip back into its place as she moved backward.

She went over to Dillon and, putting both hands purposefully onto his arm, began a conversation about how well the cabin had lasted. After a minute, she let go of his hands and crossed over to the thermometer again, but it still read fifteen degrees. She sank down to one of the broken-down, overstuffed chairs. The look on her face was that of a person sitting on a beach, wondering whether the world was round or flat. Becky decided that the look on her mom’s face was the same one she had sometimes when trying to understand her husband, but she really didn’t know what the thermometer thing was all about with her mother. She did know that it was still cold inside the cabin, but the woodstove was roaring away now, and it would soon be warm.

The cabin and its contents were very rundown; evidently, Dillon was not someone to create a comfortable home. But no one could deny that it was Dillon’s home. Outside there was a stack of empty maple syrup containers bigger than the woodpile. Becky knew they must have brought in most of them over the years because Dillon rarely, if ever, left the mountain. The cabin was so ancient that Columbus must have delivered the house furniture on his ship, the Santa Maria, and then the local natives must have used it for a few more hundred years before Dillon found it. The cabin had more personality than any house Becky had been in before. She always liked staying there. Each wall held memorabilia or pictures from some past event that Dillon liked. From near and far he gathered things, hubcaps, bottles, clothing, even some old radios, which he took to the cabin and then hung or pasted onto the walls. He cut out pictures from old magazines and pasted them onto the walls and ceilings too. Even his old shoes and some items of clothing had been hanging on some nails for years. Becky relaxed, sat down, and admired her favorite wall of over a hundred hubcaps, which stretched from the floor to almost the middle of the flat ceiling.

The conversation between the families turned to the bedrooms down the hall. Everyone was tired, and the prospect of some sleep was inviting. They talked about helping Dillon with some cabin work tomorrow before they took the snow machines up the mountain.

Ethan shot out of the kitchen with a smile so huge that his nose was pushed upward and he strutted like a proud peacock. He pulled at the tail of his sweatshirt, demonstrating that it was now quite free of ink marks. His mother didn’t seem that interested after the business of the cabin temperature and didn’t give it a second glance, but Becky moved over for another look. She examined both sides of the shirt fabric, and then Becky put her hand into his pocket and retrieved the bottle of ink. She read the label carefully and reconfirmed that it was permanent but non-toxic ink. Surreptitiously, she tested a little of the ink on a corner of her own handkerchief and ended up with a small round spot on the material. You’ll have to tell me how you pulled that one off, she whispered to Ethan. Dillon did it in a flash. He just poured water over it! Ethan hissed back at her.

They all headed for their bedrooms. Becky was very pleased to get a room to herself this time, and her bedroom followed the haphazard decorating theme Dillon had used in the rest of the cabin. The woodstove in her room must have been installed recently, she thought, because the pictures around the stove hadn’t yellowed and the corners hadn’t yet curled. She noticed that Dillon amassed pieces of furniture and scenery but not of people. She guessed that was because he spent a lot of time alone. There was just an occasional picture of the Lawsons and the Markhams taken with snow machines.

Her bed was as ancient as the cabin, Becky thought, as every movement of her body forced yet another squeak from the old wooden bed frame. She was warm from the heat of the stove now, and she hoped that Dillon’s promise of a hot shower in the morning would hold true. Sleepily, she considered the odd circumstance of Ethan’s shirt and how the ink had washed completely away. She reached over the edge of the bed to where her jeans were and, with the aid of a flashlight, retrieved her handkerchief from her pocket. The ink stain was still there, and although she rubbed at it vigorously with her fingers, the stain didn’t budge. There weren’t even any smear marks, so she knew it was permanent ink. Very curious, she thought as she was overcome with fatigue and fell asleep.

Chapter 3

The Ride up the Mountain

As the sun cracked through the small bare window, it melted the frost in the window’s center and smacked directly into Becky’s face. She could hear no sound other than the sun smacking on her face. She knew it was time to head for the shower before anyone else stood at the bathroom door clearing their throat, giving the signal that they needed the bathroom too. As she left the room, she put a couple more logs into the stove to make sure that the room would be warm on her return.

The short warm shower was great, and she zipped back to her room unnoticed. She felt the cold, so she started to layer on even more clothes than her dad had told her to put on. She appreciated the warmth of the room as she started to dress. She heard a lot of commotion from the corridor; evidently others were now up and wanted the bathroom as well.

Becky had hung her clothes over the back of the chair the night before, and with the stove sending out great heat, she hopped into warm clothes. Pulling up a chair close to the stove and sitting down, she wondered again why the pictures near the stove weren’t scorched or dried out. Ethan’s sweatshirt popped into her mind. How had he removed the permanent ink and dried the shirt? Her mom hadn’t said a thing about the dry shirt, but she’d made too much of the thermometers to have noticed the shirt.

Becky heard the noises from outside of her room. The shower was running, and someone was clearing their throat. It was time for breakfast. Becky had a couple of pieces of leftover fruit in her pocket. Her dad and Andrew Lawson liked to stick with backpacking stoves and dried fruit, but she was always happy with fresh fruit anytime. She headed for the living room, but even after getting up first, she was the last to arrive there. Ethan commented on how slow his sister was, but her mom said, We heard you up early this morning, Becky. It was nice of you to be finished with the bathroom first. Ethan was on his way to the kitchen, but he changed direction and went over to Becky. Were you really up before everyone else? he asked her. Becky nodded that she was, and Ethan headed back to the kitchen.

Then there was a lot of discussion about the day’s plans for the trip up the mountain. Dillon talked about the enormous snowfall on the ground; he thought the trip should be a good one. Steve and Andrew put on their snow machine suits so that they could go outside and load up the machines ready for the trip. As they went outside, Ellen leaned out of the door and asked them to check the thermometer in the truck. Steve called back to her, It’s a perfect weather—eighteen degrees below zero and no wind. Ellen’s lips tightened as she closed the door. Her head tilted a little as she resigned herself to the inevitable, but Becky could see that she was concerned. Becky tried to comfort her. "We’ve got