[IN PROGRESS]
Martha and James are soulmates trapped together in a never-ending reincarnation loop. Not a bad way to spend eternity, but they wanted more. They wanted a child. Serafina is born and Martha and James are elated to love and raise her a...
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The combine plowed through the rows of corn, toppling the helpless stalks as the pickup truck passed along the county road.
"You ever been to the John Deere Pavilion over in Moline?" Gerald asked as he drove.
"No, Mr Johanson. I haven't," Ursula answered as she stared out of the passenger window. Hank Williams Sr's plaintive and powerful twang soared on the radio as the Iowa farmland transitioned to sparse commercial real estate: a feed store, a car dealership, a church...
"Gerald, Madison," he corrected with a chuckle. "I keep telling you, it's okay for you to call me Gerald."
"Sorry, Mr Johanson- I mean... Sorry, Gerald." Ursula could tell by the smile on the septuagenarian's cracked and weather-beaten face that her routine of excessive respect was having the desired effect. "What's the John Deere Pavilion over in Moline like?"
"Oh, it's a blast. They've got tractors and combines bigger than the one back there. And they'll let you climb right up in them so you can make believe you're a real farmer."
"Holy cow, that does sound like fun," she said, slathering her words with innocence. "Do you think we could ever go there?"
"Why, sure. Not today, seeing as we have these errands to run. But maybe we can make a trip tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? Gee-whiz, that's great!"
"Well, I tell you what, Madison," Gerald said as he steered into a Walmart parking lot. "You sure are a welcome change from our last ward. The sass mouth on that girl, I tell you what."
Gerald parked and the two of them stepped out of the truck. The sun was out, but the rain from two days before had sucked the heat from the air and ground leaving the autumn wind bitter. As they navigated the parking lot, Ursula held Gerald's hand, the swollen knuckles from his osteoarthritis serving as a rung for her tiny fingers to grip. They ignored a teenager selling candy bars for a college fund outside the entrance, then inside, Gerald tipped his cap to the elderly greeter. "Bette."
"Afternoon, Gerald," she replied with a smile.
They continued on through the superstore's aisles, passing plastic home decor and slave labor clothing. When they reached the toy aisle, Gerald stopped. "I got a list of things to look for over in automotive. You want to come with me or'd you rather take a gander at the dollies?"
"The dollies, please," Ursula answered, eyebrows raised and smile stretched wide.
"Okay then Madison, but don't get any ideas. You're just looking. I'm not fixin' to spoil you."
"Yes, Gerald. I understand. Thank you!" Ursula skipped away eagerly. Once he was out of sight, she relaxed, rolling her neck and allowing herself to slouch. In truth, she couldn't care less about 'the dollies,' but took any chance she could to be alone and drop character.
