Tuck Everlasting

Epilogue:

Despite the sign that said 'Welcome to Treegap' the town ahead look nothing as it had before, those many years ago. A small wagon being pulled by a fat old horse made it's way merrily along the now paved road with a white line down the middle. Mae and Angus sat on the seat of the clattering wooden wagon, with the boys in the back. They bounced as they made their way into the town. They were accustom to change, as they saw it constantly, but here it seemed shocking and sad.

"Look," Jesse exclaimed, "look Ma, Pa. Ain't that where the wood used to be? It's gone. Not a thing left of it! And her cottage, that's gone too."

When they looked, it was very difficult to recognize anything at all, but from the little hill, which had once lain outside the village and was now very much a part of it, they thought they could figure things out.

"Yes," said Mae, "that's where it was, I do believe. 'Course it's been so long since we was here, I can't tell for certain."

There was a gas station now. A young man, washing and polishing the windshield to a wide and rusty Hudson automobile gave a chuckle and said to the driver who was lounging at the wheel, "Looky there, in from the country for a big time."

The small family in the wagon clattered into the village, past a mixture of houses which soon have welcome to shops and other places of business: a hot dog stand; a dry cleaner; a pharmacy; another gas station; a tall, white frame building with a verandah; a motel. A post office, and just beyond that, a jail house, but a much bigger jail than what they had known before, with walls painted brown and an office for the county clerk. A black and white police car stood in front, waiting, with red glass search-light and a radio antenna fastened to the roof.

Mae gazed at the jail house, but turned quickly. "See over there," she said, pointing, "that diner?" Let's stop there and get a cup of coffee. All right?"

"All right," Angus agreed, "maybe they'll know somethin'"

Inside the diner gleamed and the florescent lighting glimmered off the smooth tiles and smelled of cleaner and ketchup. Mae, Angus and the boys took seats on the swivelling chairs that stood along the long counter. A waitress emerged from the kitchen at the rear. They looked alright. A little odd maybe- their clothes, especially- but modest. She slapped a pair of cardboard menus down in front of them and leaned on the foaming sofa cooler.

"You folks from off?" She asked.

"Yep," Angus said, "just passin' through."

"Sure," she said.

"Say," said Miles cautiously, fingering his menu, "didn't there use to be a forest once, down the other side of town?"

"Yeah," she said, "had a big storm, though, 'bout three years ago now, or there abouts. Big tree got hit by lightning, split right down the middle. Caught fire an' everything. Tore up the ground, too. Had to bulldoze it all out."

"Oh," said Angus. He and Mae exchanged glances.

"Oh, coffee, please," Mae said, quickly. "black. For the both of us."

"And two sodas for us," said Miles.

"Sure," said the waitress. She turned and placed white, porcelain mugs in front of Mae and Tuck, then poured the thick, steaming liquid into the mugs. Then, placed two clear glasses in front of the boys and poured a bubbling soda into each and placed straws in the both of them.

"Used to be a fresh-water spring in that woods," said Angus, boldly, sipping his coffee.

"Don't know nothing about that," said the waitress, "had to bulldoze it all out, like I said."
~
Afterwards, while Mae was shopping for supplies with Angus and Miles, Jesse went back through town, on foot- back the way they had come- out to the small hill. There were now rows of houses, and a feed and grain store, hit on the farther side of the hill, inside a sturdy iron fence, was a cemetery.

Jesse's heart raced. He'd seen the cemetery on the way into town. The others had seen it too. They hadn't spoke of it. However, they all knew it may hold the other's answer. Jesse straightened out his old white shirt. He passed through an old iron archway, which gave a cold greeting, and he paused, looking at the rows of gravestones. Just then, he saw a tall monument, tipping slightly into the ground. On it was carved a single name: Foster.

Slowly, Jesse turned and began walking closer to the monument, and saw as he approached it, smaller markers all around it. A family plot. His throat closed, for it was there, as much as he wanted it to be, but now as he looked at it more, he was overcome with sadness. Jesse knelt and read the inscription:

In Loving Memory
Winifred Foster-Jackson
Dear Wife
Loving Mother
Caring Grandmother
1870-1948

"So," said Jesse to himself, "three years, she's been gone three years." Suddenly, a dark shadow crept over his shoulder. He expected Mae, Miles or Tuck to say something, however when he stood up and turned none were there. Instead, there stood a woman, perhaps no older than himself. He became overcome with shock, but shook it off soon after. For the girl who stood behind him had a strikingly close resemblance to an aged Winnie Foster, with the same foxlike appearance; same slim willowy figure, long auburn hair that was held back in a loose bun, and warm, brown eyes with a face dotted with few freckles. She wore a simple black button-up dress coat and neat modest pencil skirt with brown boots. She carried a bouquet of Queen Anne's Lace flowers, which she rested against Winnie's tombstone.

"Hello," she said softly, "was she a friend of yours?"

"Yes," he paused, choosing his words carefully, " I knew her a ways back. You?"

"She's my grandmother. I visit her constantly. And my mum, and dad," she added, pointing to a set of gravestones, not far from Winnie's, "Dad died in the war. Alcohol drove mum to the grave not far after. I went to live with my grandmother after that. You know, She used to tell me all these crazy stories, about a spring out in the woods that granted immortality. I used to think she as crazy. But I loved her anyways." The girl chuckled

"That spring's destroyed now, ain't it?" Jesse asked curiously.

"Yeah. So it don't matter now if people know about it. In her stories she also mentioned a family of people who drank the stuff. The Tucks, she called 'em. She told me how she was gonna drink he stuff too, but she didn't, for her family's sake."

"What's your name?" Jesse asked.

"Anna," she said, "Anna Winifred Jackson."

"And how old are you?"

"Seventeen. And," Anna paused, studying him carefully for a moment, "I've been seventeen for the last four years. Like I said, I used to think she was crazy."

Jesse paused too, for he did not know what to say. He turned and faced the road. Mae, Tuck and Miles waited for him in the wagon. After a moments silence, however, he knew what to do. Before he walked to them, he turned his head back towards Anna.

"Why don't you come with me and meet my family?" He said, eagerly, reaching out his hand, "and let me introduce myself. I'm Jesse, Jesse Tuck."