…

I don’t know, at first, what it was that brought back a raft of memories that had been long forgotten, I had woken up in an ambulance on its way to a hospital, and by the way, in which it was moving at breakneck speed, siren wailing, it had on be for a very good reason.

“He’s awake,” a nearby voice yelled near me, and then a face hovered before my eyes, “How do you feel.”

It was an odd question because I felt fine.  “OK.  I guess.  What happened?”

For a minute or so, he checked my vitals and asked, “Do you know who you are?”  I gave him my name, which matched my ID, and then my address, which was also correct.  He asked me where I was, and got it right too.  “You can slow down; I’ll tell them it’s not urgent.”

He made a phone call to the hospital, then turned back to me.

“You had a fall, hit your head on the concrete sidewalk, and started having a fit.  When we arrived, you were unconscious, and the signs indicated you had gone into a coma.  It was a situation that could have gone anyway, which is why we were trying to get you to the hospital as soon as possible.  You need to get an MRI as soon as possible.”

“But I feel fine.”

“That may well be the case, but what happened to you can have ramifications later.  You have suffered a heavy knock to your head.”

It was not as if I could feel anything, so I reached up to feel for any indication of the accident and touched a bandage, covering what felt like a big lump.  I could not feel any pain when I touched it.  “Should I feel something?”

“You should, yes.  We have not administered any pain medication, so it should be very sore.  It’s a fairly large gash.  You say there is no pain?”

“No.”

Not right then, but about five minutes later, I started having blurred vision.  The paramedic went back to checking my vitals, and as he was taking blood pressure I started shaking, and moments after that, I passed out.

When I woke up, I was home, in my room, overlooking the stables, and beyond that the hills.  Montana.  How did I get there?

Everything was exactly as I remembered it, the rodeo curtains, the breeze coming through the open window, the aroma of newly mown grass after the rain wafting in, accompanied by the rustle of the curtains.  Summer, my favourite part of the year.

And yet, I could not be here, because after my parents died, the farm was sold to pay of the mountain of debt they’d accumulated, and sadly the reason why they were no longer alive.

I slipped off the covers and went over to the window.  Exactly as it was when I returned after graduating from university, just before my father and I was going to make repairs to the roof.  I remember that exact time in my life.  I had just broken up with the girl I had planned to spend the rest of my life with, and, heartbroken, I’d come home to be miserable.

There was a pounding on the door.  “Get up now, lazy bones, there are chores to be done.”  Suzie, my older sister, never took crap from me, had no aspirations of getting a university degree, ‘What use would it be in running a farm?’, was always at me since I was six, and had more than once thrown cold water over me, in the morning.

“I’m up,” I yelled back, a reflex action.  This must all be in my imagination.  The last time I’d seen Suzie, it was when I took her to the airport, off to find peace and tranquillity in Tuscany, and was still there with a friend.

But it was my room, and those were my clothes in the dresser, and …  Oh.  My.  God!

My imagination was in overdrive.  I looked exactly like my 23-year-old self.  That reflection in the mirror was startling.  I touched my face, and it seemed real.

Another bang on the door made me jump.  The door opened and Suzie put her head in.  “Good, you’re up.  You just saved yourself a lot of grief.”

She looked so young, so happy, a far cry from the woman she was now, broken by a man we all thought the world of, but turned out to be a monster.  I’d often wished I could go back and change things as we all did.

I crossed the room and gave her a huge hug.  It felt real.

“What was that for?”  She was taken aback by an action that, back then, I would not have contemplated.  Our relationship, then, had been rocky at best.

“You know I love you to pieces, sis, and I don’t think I’ve taken the time or made the effort to tell you.”

“I know that.  You don’t have to say anything.”

“Too many things are left unsaid.”

“You’re going batty, I can see that now.  That fall off the roof of the barn has affected you, though I have to say this version of you is an improvement.  Oh, and by the way, I asked Samantha to come over today, so be nice.  She’s had a hard time of it while you’re away and you were good friends once.”

Samantha.  The girl I dated all through middle school, the one I was supposed to end up with, everyone had said so, except she had other ideas and chose the local football hero instead.  It was around about the time I came back that he was killed in a car accident, though rumours had it, it was not an accident.  It would be interesting to see her again.  The last time I saw her, it was when she ditched me rather unceremoniously.  

“You know me, friends with everyone.”

“She dumped you, and you hate her.  I get it, but there’s enough water under that bridge.  Later.”

I just remembered that fall off the roof, too, showing off, and paying for it.  I didn’t break anything, but I had landed rather hard, and shaken a few things up.  The bump on the head hadn’t helped either.  I shrugged and pulled out work clothes.  It was going to be an interesting day.

At the breakfast table, Mom in her usual manner had everything out and just finished up the last of the cooking.  I missed her breakfasts, in fact, I missed that first thing in the morning with family, the food, and, well, just the moments I realised much later I’d taken for granted.

Dad was there, his usual gruff, and jovial, self, complaining about everything that was going wrong, from the tractor to the crops in the south paddock, the lack of rain, and having to pump water from the dam.

When I left for college, we needed help and that’s how Walter Fisk came into our lives, particularly into Suzie’s.  He called in one day, in his battered Ford truck asking if there was any employment available in the area, and because I was not there, Dad hired him.  He was, at first, a hard worker, and then, once he had charmed Suzie, changed.  The first time I met him I took an instant dislike to him, and he knew it.  It was why he then spent the time I was away to break the relationship I had with my sister.

I was sitting at the table when he came in.  I hadn’t realised he was welcome at the breakfast table, and it marked a turning point in his acceptance, almost into the family.  I’d forgotten quite a lot about his time at the farm.  It was only several years later when the damage was done, that we learned who he really was, a thoroughly bad man by the name of Walter Reinhart who had murdered his wife and disappeared, only to turn up on our doorstep.  It wasn’t until he nearly murdered Suzie that we realised his true nature.

“Morning all.”  His eyes stopped at me, and his expression changed for just a second.  “David.”

“Walter.”  It was a pity all of this was running in my imagination, or I’d go into town and see the sheriff and tell him about Fisk.  Just seeing him brought all the old memories back, and it made me angry, so much so that I lost my appetite, and couldn’t sit at the same table with him.

I went past him as he sat down, and muttered, “Don’t get too comfortable, Reinhart.”

He grabbed my arm, stopping me from leaving, the expression on his face now one of fear.  “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

“I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“If you say so.  Now, I would like my arm back, Walter.”

Suzie had noticed that something was happening between us, and said, “I hope you two are not going to be tiresome, again.  I thought we got past all that nonsense.”

“There’s nothing going on here, is there Walter?”

He let go of my arm.  “No, nothing.”

In my imaginary world, I had just scored a small victory.

I went outside into the fresh morning air, something else that I missed greatly after leaving home.  The mornings were never the same in the city, with no open spaces to speak of and everyone living on top of each other.

And in a city with millions of people, it was ironic that I never felt more alone than I did back home.

Perhaps my mind had had enough of being where I was and had decided to put me back to a time when I had a chance to make a difference in my life.  This moment in time was when I made several regrettable decisions, each of which eventually set me on a path to where I was now.

It was not what I had envisaged my life would turn out like, then or now.

Perhaps I was taking stock, going over the choices and seeing what life might have been like.

I walked slowly towards the barn.  I could see materials and tools scattered around in my father’s usual haphazard manner, mine too for that matter. We were in the middle of patching the roof, a job long overdue, and it must be just after I fell off the roof.  Luckily, I’d landed on a haystack next to it, but though it softened the fall it still hurt.

I could feel the aches and pains from it still.

Inside the barn, I knew what I was looking for.  Grandfather’s Indian motorcycle was the only thing he left in his will to me.  I loved that bike and used to go out on it whenever I could.  I also remembered that Walter stole it when he finally left, and I never saw it again.

I had to do something about that.

I pulled the tarpaulin cover off it and checked it had fuel, then wheeled it out.  A minute later I was off, deciding to go into town.  I was still undecided about telling the sheriff about Walter.

About five miles up the road I saw Samantha and her truck on the side of the road, hood up.  She heard the bike and turned to see who it was, then waved.

I stopped.

I hadn’t seen her for a long time, much less the in those years following my return.  I remember when I came back I was bitter and said some regrettable things.  I had a chance to change that.

“David.”

“Samantha.”  I switched off the bike and it was suddenly eerily quiet.

“You know I get worried when you ride that thing.  I never think it’s safe.”

“One ride and you hated it, Sam.  You should embrace the freedom.”  It had been a constant basis for conflict between us, neither willing to back down.  I realised then that I was still annoyed, and it showed in my tone.  Had I learned nothing?

“I’m sorry.  I should have listened to your concerns, and I was a little selfish when I didn’t.”

She looked at me as if to say, ‘Who the hell are you, and what have you done with David?’

“You were right though.  I should.  Perhaps you might consider giving me another opportunity.  I know I haven’t been as understanding as I could have been.”

I shrugged.  We were both making an effort.  “It was what it was.  We were young, first love is like that, I guess.  What’s up?”

“It just stopped.  And you know me, I’m hopeless at everything.”

I got off the bike and had a look.  I was not much of a mechanic, but living on a farm you got a rudimentary knowledge of everything, so basic problems I could solve.  This one was a loose cable that had come away.  I put it back and then asked her to start the car, which it did.

“Are you coming back to the farm,” she asked.

“Yeah, just getting some air before I get back to work.  Falling off the roof sort of changes your perspective, especially when you consider what the consequences could have been. It just feels like the world is closing in on me lately.”

She got out of the truck, came over and have me a hug.  At that moment a whole raft of memories returned.  I kissed her and she kissed me back, and suddenly it felt like we had never been apart.

“I never stopped loving you Sam.”  It seemed the right time and the right thing to say.

“I know.  I always knew you were the one, but I was young and stupid.  I learned my lesson, and it won’t happen again.  If you still want me.”

I smiled. Was it that easy to fix?

“I do, very much.”  I kissed her again.  “Let’s start again. Hello.  My name is David Westbrook.  What’s yours?”

She smiled back.  “Samantha Bailey.”

“Well, Samantha, I like you a lot.  Would you be interested in going on a date?”

“Just tell me where and when.”

“Do you like motorbikes?”

“I do now.”

“Good.  I’ll see you back at the farm and when my father had finished flogging me to death, I’ll take you to a place I know that has the best burgers in the county.”

After another hug, a tear, perhaps two, she left.  I watched until she disappeared out of sight.

…

It was going to be a good day.

I went to the sheriff’s office; Mike was a good friend of my father’s as he was to all the residents of our little town.

I told him about Walter Fisk and his other name, and that I suspected he was a murderer sought by the Sacramento police.  Mike had an assistant who was clever enough to access police records from all over the country and found the information on Walter, and the wanted poster photograph was almost an exact copy of the man we had working for us.

He asked me how I knew, and I said a friend of mine was working on an assignment for his forensic science degree and had pulled up a number of cases by wanted posters and seen Walters among them.  That and the fact I always thought he was not who he said he was.

Job done; I went home.

Back on the roof, I was careful.  Working with my father again was special and I savoured the time together.  I hadn’t really wanted to get stuck on the farm, seeing what it had done to him, and his father before him.  Farming was a rough business given everything that could go wrong, and I didn’t want that responsibility.

But maybe with Suzie, who had always said she would never leave, between us, we could make it work.  Especially if we adopted an idea I had read about back in the city.  Time would tell.

Suzie, and Samantha, a farm girl herself, came back from the northern paddocks where we had cattle; and she had been taking feed for them because the grass was getting a little thin after a prolonged dry period.

Then they brought lunch to us, sitting at the table where we’d often have a BBQ Saturday night and inviting the neighbours over.  Sam sat next to me and it didn’t go unnoticed.  Suzie was pleased but didn’t state the obvious.

I thought that was the moment to tell them my plan for the future.  I also knew that from this point on things were only going to get worse, my father getting ill, the drought, Walter, and my departure all compounding onto the terrible end to everything I knew and cared about.

“I have an idea which as some of you know can be a bad thing, but thus might be another string in the bow for the farm.  I read a while back that one of the schools back east was considering introducing a farm stay for their students, say for a week or fortnight to get a feel for what happened, other than believing all food came from a supermarket.

“I thought about a dozen bunkhouses down by the river with a mess hall, classrooms, and stables would make that a reality.  You know how many schools there are, and we have everything right here.  Just think about it.  It could become a very good income stream.”

Suzie looked surprised.  “You thought of that all by yourself?”

“I am capable of thinking, you know.”

“It’s a good idea.  Dad, what do you think?”

“It will cost money we don’t have.”  The man was ever practical, quite often the devil’s advocate.

“Then what if I get a journalist to come down and go through the plan, show him everything, and get him to sell it for you.  At least it will gauge reaction, and if it’s positive…”

“One of your cronies?” Suzie asked.

“He’s a good journalist and he owes me a favour.  I’ll call him later.”

Dad shrugged.  To him, it was about the money.  Not the idea, which was sound and would work, if there was a market.  Secretly I think he was pleased with me, trying to find ways to keep the farm.

The day ended on a date and perhaps for the first time in a long time, I felt content.  I had, in my imagination, corrected everything that had gone wrong in my life, and just before I fell asleep, I wished that it could go on forever.

…

I felt a hand roughly shaking me by the shoulder, and a voice in the background saying rather loudly, “David, David, wake up, wake up.”

I put my hand out to grasp the hand that was shaking me while trying to open my eyes and wake from, well, I had no idea what it was.

It felt like I was drowning.

Then, eyes open I was staring directly at Samantha’s face.  Only she was 30 years older than the last time I saw her.

“Sam?’

“David.  Oh God, I thought I’d lost you.  She leaned down and kissed me then hugged me which was difficult.

I was in a hospital bed with cables and tubes everywhere.

“What…”

“You’ve been in a coma.  You hit your head on the sidewalk and one minute you were fine, the next, we didn’t know if you were going to live or die.”

My other hand was being held and I looked over to see Suzie equally as concerned.

“Suzie?  Why are you here?  You live in Tuscany?”

She looked blankly at me as if I was mad.  “Where did that come from?  I came up from the farm the moment Sam told me what happened.  Some second honeymoon you two are having.”

“What?  This is all wrong.  None of this is real.”

I was back in another nightmare where I was being tormented by the same two protagonists as in the last.  But why were they here and what was this second honeymoon business.

Samantha looked concerned, perhaps a little scared.  I was too because it seemed I was not back in the ambulance on my to the hospital for other reasons.  And that life didn’t have either Suzie or Samantha in it.

Suzie came into view.  “You should not be overly worried if none of this is familiar to you.  We were told by the doctor that you might have difficulty remembering anything, but that wouldn’t last forever.  So, a quick recap may or may not help.  You’ve been married to Sam for thirty years, and you have three children, not here of course, I’m now running the farm, that was a great idea of yours and it’s all we do these days, Mom and Dad retired to Florida like they always intended, and you and Sam work with me.”

“Walter?”

“He was arrested and charged with murder.  God, that was a bullet dodged.  That was your diligence too, David, and I cannot thank you enough.”

“How long have I been out of it then?”

“About a month.  We’ve been rather frantic I can tell you.”

A coma?  It had seemed very real to me.

The problem was my life had been nothing like this one, but coincidentally it was the one I had always wanted and had dreamed of often.  It wasn’t possible I could have gone back in time, so what really happened?

Suddenly around me, alarms were going off and there was a sudden movement of people coming into the room.  One minute I was conscious, the next I found myself in a white room, sitting at a table with a bearded man.

St Peter at the pearly gates?  Was I dying?

“David, David, David.”  His tone had just the right amount of disapproval and, what was it, disappointment.  “You are given a second chance and you’re not grasping it with both hands.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s been your problem all your life, looking for meaning in something that just is.  Are you going to stop procrastinating, and just go back and live your life, the life you have been given?  You do not want to miss out on being a grandfather, do you?  To go back, a simple yes or no will suffice.”

I didn’t want to think what a no might do, so it had to be a yes.  I had no idea what was happening to me, but it was the life I always wanted, to be with Samantha, and have my sister back to her old self again.  Whether or not I had intervened, and made it so, was moot.  I had hit my head, and basically, everything in it was scrambled anyway.

“Yes.”

“Good.  Now don’t come back, not until it’s your time.”

…

There was relief written all over the faces in that room, of the doctors, the nurses, a dozen other spectators, and the two who mattered the most to me.  Samantha was holding my hand and I squeezed it, and moments later, opened my eyes.  Perhaps I was still dazzled by the white room, but I could have easily confused her with an angel.

“You’re back.”

“Did I go somewhere?”  Did she know what had been happening to me?

“I think it might have been that place just before you leave this mortal earth.  You weren’t dead, but I think it was touch and go.  I’m glad you came back.  Our life together is not over yet, and there are so many experiences we have to look forward to.”

“Like being grandparents?”

“How do you know that?  I only just got a text message not five minutes ago.”

“I have connections.  Don’t worry.  I’m back now, and I’m not going anywhere.  I think what happened to me was the universe telling me not to be an ass.  I’m sure I did something wrong.”

“Well, you’re right about being an ass, but we all have our quirks.  We’re together now, as it should be.”

…

©  Charles Heath  2023