Authors: K Broas
Billy smiled with pride filling his small body and said, “Yeah, my mom and dad will be there and my grandma and grandpa. They’re helping me with my lines every night. I just hope I don’t screw up.”
Hope smiled at the cut
eness of the child’s insecurity knowing how it felt to be on stage. “You have nothing to worry about. You’ll do great,” Hope said as she finished hemming up the sleeves. “There, how does that feel?”
Billy stretched his arms out, checking the length. As the small boy stood with his tiny arms outstretched, Hope felt the urge to pick him up and give him a big hug. She fought back the memory of
her own son and continued to work. “How’s the length feel?” Hope asked enjoying her time with the little boy.
“It feels good, but sometimes it gets caught under my feet,” little Billy explained trying to reproduce the problem by walking back and forth.
“Well I think I can fix that,” Hope replied quickly hemming the bottom. “Is that better?”
Billy walked back and forth testing the costume as the bottom brushed right above his fragile ankles. “Perfect, that feels perfect,” Billy said.
“Can you sit with us during the pageant? My mom and dad would love to meet you,” Billy asked innocently.
Hope
’s heart sunk as she realized he didn’t understand she was leaving in the morning. “Oh, I’m sorry Billy. I need to head out tomorrow. The train is coming in and I need to catch it while it’s here,” Hope said feeling guilty.
Billy’s small eyes opened widely, filled with fright. “You can’t leave, what if my costume
tears?” Billy exclaimed. “Plus, I always look for you in rehearsal when I get nervous. It helps calm me down. Who’s going to help me now? Please don’t go. I need you to be there.”
Hope felt terrible about leaving the child. She knew she couldn’t abandon him when he needed her so much. In that moment, with the pleading child in front of her, Hope decided to stay. She knew she could always catch the next train. At this point in her life, she needed to stay and finish what she had started.
“Don’t worry little one. I wouldn’t miss your performance for anything,” promised Hope.
As Christmas approached
, the town did its best to find the holiday spirit. It had become difficult because the town elders had determined the food supplies would be short again this year. Everyone was put on strict rations since the hunting and fishing had not been fruitful despite their best effort during their previous excursions. All they had were jars and jars of preserved jams and pickled vegetables. Even with the ample supply of shiny transparent jars, it wasn’t enough without the supplements from wild game and fish. The people of Chapel Hill worried not. They had faith in their creator, and that would overcome any possible challenge.
The next several weeks passed by in a blur of happiness, laughter, and hunger. The Christmas pageant was a hit. Everyone was in attendance
, and the children performed like professionals. Billy performed perfectly. With Hope in attendance, he stood proud and nailed every one of his lines with precision. Hope’s costume design was also discussed. It was seen as a great success, adding so much to the impressive production. As time slipped by and Christmas faded to New Years, Hope settled into her natural role as a seamstress.
Even though life had returned to normal, the tiny town’s struggle
s for food did not change. Two more excursions for food were attempted without success. The preserved foods, in tiny glass jars, were taking the hit because they were the only source of nourishment in town. It didn’t take long before these too were almost depleted.
“I heard we’re down to two weeks of food in storage,” Chris said calmly. “We’ve got to schedule another fishing trip.”
Grace looked at her strong, thin man who was showing the signs of hunger. “I don’t know Chris, it takes so much energy. If all we’re getting is a couple small fish here and there, it doesn’t make sense,” Grace said noticing Chris’s hollowed out cheeks. “I think the hunt is where we’ll find what we need.”
Despite the disastrous situation taking form, Chris and Grace were unshaken. They knew their needs would be met somehow, someway. They just had to remain strong and keep their faith. Hope was mo
re skeptical. She was concerned having seen many good situations go very wrong.
“I’m surprised the elders aren’t trying to secure supplies from the surrounding areas. I wonder if other places are also struggling with hunger. Maybe we should
jump on the train next week and see if the next town over has any food to spare,” Hope suggested optimistically. “I know it’s a long shot, but it’s better than waiting for a miracle only to starve later.”
“I understand your fear
, Hope,” Grace said. “We’re going to be fine. This is a great opportunity to give thanks and praise for how wonderful things have been so far. Sure we’re hungry now, but think of all the times of plenty.”
Chris caressed the back of his wife’s neck tenderly and added, “
In times like these, we need to relinquish our sad attempts to control life and just trust. We must trust knowing there’s a grand design for everything.”
Hope struggled to reconcile their blind faith, feeling the dange
r swirling around the situation as she ignored the painful spasms deep in her belly.
The following week Hope was working again with Stephanie. The craftsmanship she
demonstrated during the pageant earned her a permanent spot mending the town’s tattered clothing. Stephanie was also a skilled seamstress working primarily from an antique sewing machine. There was never a shortage of clothes to mend. Most of the garments worn around town were second hand and nearly falling apart. The two had worked closely over the past couple months and were becoming close friends.
“Do you know if there’s anot
her hunting trip going out soon?” Hope asked Stephanie.
“They just got back from a trip on Monday. Six rabbits and a couple
of birds are all they got,” Stephanie replied. “What we need to do is start farming again. Can you imagine how good fresh milk and cheese would be?”
Hope thought about the creamy texture of dairy and fantas
ized about a big, hot meal. “Yes that would be good,” Hope said swallowing a large mouthful of drool.
“I can’t believe we’ve got four months before we can start planting again. We’ve struggled like this before but never quite this bad,” Stephanie said with a tinge of worry. “Everything will pan out in the end. Something will come along.”
“Did you hear about the Peterson’s boy? That boy from the play, Billy I think?” Stephanie asked as she powered her old Singer sewing machine with her foot.
Hope drifted a moment when hearing Billy’s name. “Yea
h Billy, the one re-sized right before the Christmas play? What about him?” she said.
“Well, he’s not doing too well. I spoke to his mother yesterday
, and Billy has something. Nobody knows quite what it is. The elders think it’s related to the hunger. With so many mouths to feed in that family, I don’t know what they’re going to do,” Stephanie said matter-of-factly. “The rations are the rations. Each family has tough choices on how to divide up their share.”
Hope was shocked by what she was hearing. “So what are the elders doing about it? Are they giving the Peterson’s a larger share? The boy has to eat,” Hope said frantically.
“A larger ration from where? We all have to eat?” Stephanie said, surprised by Hope’s disgusted expression.
“
Well we can’t look the other way and let a child starve to death. What are they thinking?” Hope yelled, angry at the elders, the town, and the desperate situation.
Stephanie
remained calm and said, “Relax, nobody’s going to starve. You have to have faith. We always get exactly what we need. It’s just not always when we think we need it. Trust me, Billy will be fine.”
“And what if it’s not fine? W
hat if Billy does die? How can the town deal with that on their conscience?” Hope asked nastily. “We should be doing everything we can to find food… right now!”
“But that’s the point. How strong would our faith be
if at the first sign of trouble we abandoned our beliefs?” Stephanie said calmly. “If something does happen to poor Billy, it would be a tragedy for sure, but it would still be part of the larger design. We must wait, wait and see, looking for the miracle that will surely come.”
Hope became angry. She finished up he
r last seam and left the church annoyed and frightened for the helpless boy. As she walked home, she could feel in her gut what was going to happen to the faithful people of Chapel Hill. She couldn’t believe they were going to just let it happen. She was so angry at their blind stupidity and inaction. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that she didn’t have the strength to see more tragedy in her life. She made the decision that when the train came back again, she’d leave this loving town.
When Hope arrived back at the tiny home, Chris and Grace were already there. Hope wasted no time announcing her intention to leave. She explained how dear they had all become to her, but also that she didn’t share their faith that
things would get better. She felt horrible in her inability to believe but just couldn’t sit by and watch the events she was sure were coming. Chris and Grace tried everything possible to get her to change her mind, but Hope could not be swayed. She had decided what her next steps would be, and they all began with heading east.
The day arrived
, and Hope was packing up her things in her small red bag. “I really wish you didn’t have to go,” Grace said with an empty stare in her eyes. “You’ve become family, Hope. It’s like I’m losing a sister.” Hope continued to pack, wanting so much to put down her bag and forget her plans.
“We need you here
, Hope. The town is devastated that you’re leaving,” Chris added, trying to persuade her to stay.
“I know guys. This is hard for me too
, but it’s what I have to do,” Hope replied. “I just don’t believe things will turn around like you guys do. Believe me, I wish I did.”
Chris’s eyes welled up with tears as he held his wife’s hand firmly. “You’ve had such an impact on us Hope. How can we repay you? You can’t just walk out of our lives,” Chris pleaded. “Wait, I want to give you something. I’ll be
right back.” Chris disappeared back into the bedroom only to return with one of his many acoustic guitars. “Here take it. This way every time you play you’ll remember us. And this isn’t a gift. I’m simply letting you use it. Make sure you come back and return it someday. Okay,” Chris explained with a single tear rolling down his gaunt face.
Hope looked at the kind man
standing next to his strong wife and said, “Deal. Thanks for letting me borrow this.”
Grace then came to Hope’s side and put several small silver coins in her hand. She said, “It isn’t much, but it should be enough to get you settled.”
Hope looked at the small gesture of friendship and said, “Thank you. I’ll never forget you guys.” Then, from somewhere deep in the shadows of Hope’s injured soul, she found the strength to turn and walk away.
Chapter 15
Coming Home
Bright white explosions filled the enormous hall chasing away the darkest of shadows that clung and hid in the corners of the hot sweaty room. Mr. Howard walked triumphantly from the stage as Sariel Dranias remained behind at his podium fumbling with his small perfect note cards. The crowd was electric filled with vision at the optimistic message that was skillfully laid out by the talented public servant. The silvery haired man shook the hands of his many supporters as he left the room like royalty.
“That was perfect,” said the busy campaign manager as he rushed Mr. Howard down the hall. “Your delivery was
spot on. You kept it high level yet nailed the points we talked about earlier.”
Mr. Howard loosened his pale blue necktie and stopped to shake hands and sign autographs as
they reached the stairs. “I don’t want to be disrespectful, sir, but we need to keep moving. You have a meeting with the reporter from the Dover Times in thirty minutes,” the campaign manager continued.
Mr. Howard finished autographing th
e few remaining sheets of paper and quickly made his way up the steps. “Hey Matt, I wasn’t too hard on Sariel was I? That must have stung when I asked him about the new move for global consolidation. He was speechless,” Mr. Howard commented. “I really think he’s a good man, just a little misguided.”
Matt put his hand betwe
en Mr. Howard’s shoulder blades guiding him into his room. “No, I think it all went very well. We couldn’t have asked for more,” Matt replied.
Waiting for Mr. Howard in the lavish hotel room was his dear wife, Lori, who had already made her way back from the debate. “Amazing! That was fantastic. The people are really starting to hear your message. Looks like the country may be ready for wh
at you’ve been saying for years,” Lori said with love for the old man.
“I think you’re right. Just when we think we’re out, they pull us back in,” Mr. Howard said with a mischievous smile on his thin face. “How’re
ya hanging in there?”
“Don’t worry about me.
I’ll be fine,” Lori said warmly. “You’ve got ten minutes to get to that interview,” Lori said straightening her husband tie. “You go knock ‘em dead.”
Mr. Howard and his aides walked through the ha
lls of the hotel making their way to conference room to meet the reporter. Just before arriving at his destination, Mr. Howard bumped into Sariel Dranias in the lobby of the hotel.
“Paul, great work out there tonight. You really had me on the comment about the International Monetary Fund,”
Sariel said confidently. “You and I both know that you can’t fight the inevitable. Wealthy interests are at play, and one way or another, we’re going to succumb to these outside forces.”
Mr. Howard graciously leaned in and patted
Sariel’s back like a dear colleague with much more seniority and whispered, “There’s nothing inevitable about this world, Sariel. That’s the one lesson you still have to learn. I don’t care what’s in the best interest of your donors. It’s about what’s best for my country.”
Sariel
looked ashamed for a moment before anger flashed across his perfectly chiseled face. “Nothing’s changed old man. We’ve only just begun, and there’s plenty of time before election night. We’ll have to see what the people really want,” Sariel responded sternly.
The two men
parted – Mr. Howard going to spread his gospel with the reporter, and Sariel back to his room in defeat.
As Mr. Howard sat down across from the finely dressed reporter, the questions began. “Hello Mr. Howard, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” the newspaper reporter
began. “Thanks for taking the time to sit down with me. I know my readers will enjoy hearing more about your views.”
Mr. Howard smiled graciously and said, “Oh, most definitely. I'm alway
s excited to speak about my beliefs.”
The reporter ope
ned an expensive, leather bound notepad and began his questions. “Most people don’t understand the Libertarian Party, so let’s just jump right in,” the man from the paper said. “So how does the Libertarian Party differ from the existing parties out there?”
Mr. Howard paused for a moment
trying to formulate his explanation. “I know there's confusion, and often Libertarians get bundled with the Independent voters. Even though that’s the thinking, it isn’t very accurate,” Mr. Howard answered. “Our system has many different views across the political spectrum. On one end of the spectrum, we have the Conservative Party with very traditional views on society. They tend to feel the federal government should govern behavior to promote social morality. They also have been fiscally conservative historically although this has been changing over the last several years. These parties have been proposing increased government spending and growth of the federal system.”
The reporter, who was taking very detailed notes, asked, “What about the other side of the aisle, the Liberals?”
Mr. Howard leaned forward in his chair and answered, “Yes the Liberals. I was just about to address them. On the other end of the spectrum you have the Liberal Party, who tend to be a bit more socially and fiscally liberal, creating many new entitlement programs. It’s funny how the Liberal Party has been proposing legislation directly attacking our civil liberties over the past twenty years. They too seem to be in the business of legislating behavior.” Mr. Howard took a moment to let his words sink in. He took a large sip from his glass of ice water as the reporter wrote down his words.
“So are you saying that although both parties are polar opposites from one another, they’ve been acting very similarly for many years?”
Mr. Howard’s face lit with excitement as he said, “Exactly!”
The man with the official looking press pass then asked, “So what about the Independents? Where do they stand?”
“They stand right smack in the middle,” Mr. Howard said in a slowly drawn out voice to add impact to his statement. “They seem to be moderate, standing in the center of the spectrum. They are fiscally liberal believing that we need to have programs for the less fortunate and socially conservative focusing on morality in the country.”
The reporter scratched his head for a second and then asked, “Now I’ve heard the Libertarians described as ‘moderate’, but then also in the same article as ‘Radical’. How can that be?”
Mr. Howard nodded his head quietly as the reporter asked his question and then replied, “This is where the Libertarian party differs. We believe that it’s not the responsibility of the government to tell the people how to live their lives. We are very socially liberal believing in liberty and a strict interpretation of the Constitution.”
The reporter interrupted Mr. Howard asking, “But isn’t that just what the Liberal
s believe?”
“It is, but we disagree with their ideals regarding
the strength and scope of the federal government,” Mr. Howard quickly responded. “We believe in strong state rights with a small federal government that’s charged with protecting the country and not much else.”
The reporter, struggling to understand, asked, “But what about issues lik
e civil rights and abortion? These seem to be important issues for most people and should be addressed on a federal level.”
Mr. Howard respectfully shook his head, and said, “Well, we believe that everyone has the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. That’s
why it’s so important for the states to regulate those things. By fostering an environment where states compete, we all win. If legislation was passed and people didn’t agree with it, they can vote with their feet and move to another part of the country. On the other hand, if the federal system was to legislate something that was unconstitutional, we’d have nowhere to run. We’d be left with just our system of checks and balances. The balance of powers between the executive, legislative and judicial branches would be our only mechanism. If this was to ever become corrupt, the people would lose their voice forever.” Mr. Howard continued, “We've seen that happen even recently as global structures influenced our federal system aligning us so closely to the United Nations.”
The mild reporter looked up from his notes, and asked, “Should we try to be part of the global community? Isn’t that in our best interest?”
Mr. Howard again shook his head, trying to remain calm, and responded, “When that happened, we lost our way and forgot our own national interests. We started legislating based on what was good for global interests. This is a dangerous situation.”
The reporter scoffed
and asked, “Now you can't be proposing that somehow there's a conspiracy to control the American people?”
With his fiery blue eyes locked on the reporter, Mr. Howard answered, “No, I'm certainly not saying that. I'm simply stating that if you look back through history, mankind has a long and detailed past where government structures gained too much control and end
ed up grabbing power over the economy and eventually the people. We believe, as our forefathers did, in personal freedom and personal responsibility.”
The reporter calmly put d
own his fine writing instrument not wanting to further challenge the brilliant politician. “Well that certainly helps me differentiate the Libertarian Party from the others. I know that I feel more aware of the differences,” the reporter admitted. “So what are your views on the economy?”
“Well, s
ix years ago everything changed. Without our mighty grid, supply chains failed, food became scarce, and we ended up relying on our local communities. Things are slowly getting better. We’re even importing automobiles from Europe again. Sure they’re expensive and only a handful of people have them, but that’s a big step. I guess my question is this, how can we, as a country, re-establish ourselves in the global community? How can we grow the economy when our currency is so weak? I think that's the point. With unchecked government spending, we’ve created the situation that drove the dollar to the unprecedented lows. This situation makes it very difficult for us to import the goods we need in order to grow the economy,” Mr. Howard said with certainty. “I believe the answer isn’t to fight the current trends only to return to the days of out-of-control spending. We need to embrace the life we’ve found after the collapse. We need to improve our local communities and return governance to the people. We need to realize that the people in their local areas understand what their community needs. They understand best what needs to be produced and at what price to sell their goods. The federal system, thousands of miles away, could never have the insight as local leadership.”
“But what about the global markets? There are many out there
who feel our future is directly correlated to the success of our global partners,” the reporter said.
Mr. Howard started to chuckle in disbelief as he responded, “I fully understand that there's a push to return us to the global system. There's even talk of moving to a global currency. Something like that
would create real problems in America. I don’t know why we would ever go back to a system that generated the conditions for our collapse. Maybe we’re doomed to repeat history after all.”
Down the coast
, less than seventy miles away, Hope exited the train station stepping onto concrete she had left many years before. She took a deep, long breath, pulling the salty air into her body. “Home…” she thought to herself as she stood and watched an albatross glide on the ocean breeze. It was mid-April and the Atlantic was filled with whitecaps - foamy white, filled with spray, covering the sea. The sound of the surf blanketed everything. It reminded Hope of her joy as a child. She began to walk, unsure where she was going, until she found a small café along the boulevard. She sat down, ordered a large cup of coffee, and drank the bitter brew while watching the surf crash into the sand.
As the cool sea breeze warmed, summer arrived in Ocean City. Hope had settled in and started working at the
café she found the day she arrived in town. Working as a waitress, she’d spend her days talking to people and enjoying her simple existence. She’d come in early in the morning, start the morning coffee, bake off some muffins and cookies, and then spend her day serving the people of Ocean City. Of all the duties Hope performed at the café, her favorite one was the opportunity to perform on Friday nights. When the owner of the café found out Hope played guitar, he asked her to play one night. The instant she began to play, he knew she’d be a permanent attraction.
Late one afternoon, while Hope was busy serving
the customers, she happened to look up and see something amazing right outside the window. Walking down the boulevard, she saw the familiar face. The woman turned and entered the small café. Hope couldn't believe her eyes. She was dazzled by what fate had sent her way. She shook her head, rubbing her eyes, not believing who was standing before her. It was Joy. Her old friend looked up and noticed Hope instantly. Both women stood silently, frozen in time, unable to process what was occurring.
Joy dropped her purse in shock, and said, “Is that you Hope?” Joy stuttered. “I can't believe what I'm seeing.”
“Oh my God, Joy! It's been so long… how are you girl? I missed you so much!” Hope exclaimed. “What brings you to Ocean City?”
Joy, feeling as if she was speaking to a ghost, carefully
answered, “I’ve been living here for a couple years now. How ‘bout you? When did you get here?”