Back To Our Beginning by C. L. Scholey Page A

rolled his brandy glass between his hands, he remembered when he and his father had put the brandy down here with glasses. His father had jokingly told him he might want a quiet getaway from his wife in a few years, after they had been married a while longer. But the bottle had remained untouched; he loved his wife more than life itself. She and Ricky were his whole life; he loved spending time with them.
    With sad eyes, Ethan looked up at Aidan. Aidan knew that look, it was the despair to end all despair look. Aidan sighed and nodded his head in understanding. Death was death even if you were still living through it. Whether it came on swift wings or on the back of a turtle it would come. With heavy hearts, both men finished their drinks and ambled off to their sleeping places, hoping to find solace in dreams. Even their nightmares couldn’t be worse than what they were living.
    The next morning Aidan awoke to the smell of beans cooking, he was sure he was still dreaming; he must be back at Ray’s home. He knew he had better get up, he had work to do. Perhaps he and Ray could find some time to go fishing, maybe take the boat out on the lake.
    Aidan felt his eyes being gently pried open. As things came into focus, he saw the mischievous face of Ricky no more than two inches from his own. Ricky seemed to take careful examination, until finally satisfied he yelled over his shoulder loud enough to wake the dead.
    “He’s awake, Mom, maybe.”
    “Well if he wasn’t, he is now,” Ethan muttered, rubbing his hands over his face.
    Ethan sauntered over to the small kitchen which was also a living room, dining room and now Aidan’s bedroom. Aidan rolled into a sitting position, feet now planted on the floor. He had definitely slept in worse places. On reflection his mind wandered to that small metal piping after the elephant incident. He gave his head a shake, best not to remember that just yet. Aidan rose and made his way to the table. Sarah was scooping tablespoons of beans from their original can onto tin plates. She was cooking on a tiny tabletop indoor-outdoor barbeque that was made originally for charcoal but now they were using woodchips. Only embers smoldered, it was apparent Sarah used their resources sparingly, while maintaining a healthy knowledge of limited ventilation.
    When Sarah placed his share in front of Aidan, he nearly wept with gratitude. He had found enough to eat; he was skilled at living off the land in any season or under any circumstances. But here was this small family sharing what meager rations they had, and they were meager. Even if they had canned food, it wouldn’t last forever. They treated him in a way others hadn’t over the last few years, with kindness, decency and respect. Like he was important, like he was worth something.
    “Don’t you like beans?” Ricky asked Aidan, full of concern. The boy had made short work of his own.
    “I love beans,” Aidan said in a choked voice. The look he sent Sarah was so thankful she reached over to squeeze his shoulder. “Maybe your mother would like a break tonight and let me cook dinner.”
    “Sure, I’d love that,” Sarah said. “I have lots of canned food you can choose from, meats, fruits, vegetables. I usually decide on two at dinner. The grill, as you can see, is small. Or if you’re game, I have some jars of spaghetti sauce left and pasta or noodles. Usually I cook that, Ethan is better at cleaning up afterwards than cooking.” She sent a fond gaze her husband’s way while he chuckled agreeing with her.
    “Well, no ma’am,” Aidan began; he shoved the last of the brown beans into his mouth and stood up to stretch. “I mean, not only will I cook it, but I’ll find it.”
    “Find it?” Ricky asked with excitement.
    “Yes find it, clean it, cook it, and you can help eat it.”
    “Can I help catch it, please?” Ricky begged; his hopeful gaze went from his mother to his father.
    After a brief hesitation Ethan was prepared to