The work Mr. Bartley had ready for the two girls the next day was some easy weed picking and lawn mowing around his house. He had said he had business in Seattle, which was only two hours away from the small town they lived in. Tamsin had sent Tera to work on his garden in behind his old, pink house, pulling out dandelions and watering the peas and zucchinis. It was another cloudless day, the sun's scorching rays had started to burn her shoulders as Tamsin sat on the ride on lawn mower and cut the grass.
Mr. Bartley's property was two and a half acres large, with trees along three sides of it, creating a shelter belt from the harsh winds from the East. Tamsin estimated it would take her a good part of two hours to complete the chore if she did a good job.
It was such a mindless activity, going back and forth across the property, she had time to think about how Mr. Bartley's appearance at the house for supper the night before had left her with more questions than she had before. The dagger she'd noticed on him was never removed from his belt all night, although he did seem like he had something important to tell them, something that was bothering him. Tamsin had been unsettled by this because in all the years she'd known him, he had always held himself in a confident and joking manner, and to see his guard down like it was last night made her stomach twist into knots. Tera had been right; he talked as though he knew something crucial to what was happening and Tamsin had noticed it more than ever that night.
He had left after the girls had gone to bed, but not before Tamsin had got up to go to the bathroom. She remembered, as she rode the lawn mower, the hushed voices of Mr. Barley and her mother in the kitchen, similar to when her father had lived and had conversations late at night with her mother. Tamsin had stood in the bathroom, the door slightly open, listening to her mother speak about her father.
"He would have wanted me to be stronger and protect the girls. Instead I've been in my room, not facing reality. The girls have all they need, though, Tamsin knows what Jonathan was, and I believe she'll know what to do when the time comes." There had been a sadness in Shelly's voice, even more despaired than it had been the day before. "It's inevitable and I hope she'll understand."
"You feel it then?" Mr. Bartley had questioned intently, his earlier self replaced with a serious and urgent new one.
"I feel it here." Tamsin had moved to peak around the door jam to see her mother gesture to her head, and then to her stomach. "A pit of something stronger than worry or anxiety."
"That's what most people say before it happens." He then paused, folding his hands around each other and setting them on the table, then continued, "To be honest, Shelly, I'm surprised you've lasted this long." His face had shown grim when he looked back at her.
Shelly's eyes glanced to the table as she sighed. "How does it happen, Frank?"
"It's different for everyone. For me, I suppose it would have been like being taken as a hostage, only knowing there is no hope." At her expression, he added, "It's different for everyone, so don't think that's what it will be for you." He reached to her and took her hand, as Tamsin watched.
"Please, Frank, take care of the girls when I'm not there."
He squeezed her hand. "You know I will."
"Oh, and can you give Tamsin this after everything is done?" She took her hand out of her grasp and reached behind her neck. Under her blue shirt was a gold chain, an amber pendant about the size of a quarter hung on it.
"Of course."
After this Tamsin had gone back to her room as quietly and quickly as possible, as they still hadn't known she had been listening. Back in bed, Tera snoring softly across the room, she hadn't been able to sleep. None of what she had learned about her family has sunk in, and it was as thought she was watching everything around her move through a thick syrup, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn't make anything move faster. She had to suffer and watch it all slowly pass.
