Abby

Mrs. Perkins sat up a little bit straighter in the truck's passenger seat as they turned onto the bumpy dirt road. Still dirt, she mused to herself, and after all these years.

It was late afternoon, warm - but not too hot - just about the same time of year it had been the last time she had been down this road. The road sloped gently uphill and Mrs. Perkins, lost in thought, realized that Christopher had been speaking to her.

"I'm so sorry," she said, clearing her throat, "You must think I'm just a crazy old deaf lady. I'm a million miles away." She smiled at the real estate agent. "You were saying...?"

Christopher was exceptionally polite, especially with Mrs. Perkins, who reminded him a little bit of his great-grandma. He smiled back.

"I was just saying," he said, "that this property has belonged to the same family for years, since before I was even born."

Mrs. Perkins had returned to gazing out her window. "I know," she murmured.

"What's that?" Christopher asked.

"Goodness, nothing...nothing. Carry on, dear." She spoke more loudly but her gaze remained trained on the horizon.

Christopher carried on. "Well, from what I understand it was a dairy farm. Beautiful piece of land - just over a hundred acres with a creek running through the southeast corner. I heard there was once a real pretty house that the Svoboda family lived in but that's been burned down years ago, now. All that's left of any buildings is the barn, and I've got to admit to you that it's in pretty sorry shape. In fact," he pointed out his window, "there it is. Would you like to see it?"

At the mention of the barn, Mrs. Perkins felt a strange sensation, a tightening of the skin at the back of her skull. A wave of prickles moved up and over her head, settling in her cheeks, burning.

She wondered if her face was red.

"I would," she said.

It was funny, she had expected the barn to be on her side of the old road. She had only been here once but she thought she remembered that day so clearly. At ninety-one, however, she knew better than most that time played games with memory, making it porous and plastic. She stared intently at the barn as they approached, testing her memory against reality. She had not been wrong about the size; the barn was enormous.

Christopher pulled into the dirt lot and parked his hulking Chevy Silverado in the shadow of the barn. "Stay right there, Mizz Perkins," he said, "I'm going to come around and help you out. The ground is awful uneven."

Mrs. Perkins started to object and swallowed, instead, resenting the truth of living in a body that was almost a century old. When Christopher opened her door and offered his arm, she took it.

They moved across the small yard and just before they reached it, Mrs. Perkins paused. She looked up at Christopher and said, "If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to go in alone for a few minutes."

Christopher looked confused and a little bit worried. "Are you sure, Mizz Perkins? I can't have nothing bad happening to you on my watch!"

She smiled at him. "I'm old, honey, not crippled." When he didn't look reassured, she added, "I'll be fine, I promise. If I don't come out in five minutes, well, come on in after me."

The barn door stood open and Mrs. Perkins walked through it. Sunlight came through the slats on the far wall and drew golden lines on the dirt floor. Her eyes took a few moments to adjust to the gloom but her nose knew right away. The barn's perfume - warm, humid air hung with dust, the scent of old rubber, something animal - was the same as it had been in 1945. How is it even possible? she thought, tears beginning to form in her eyes.

*****

Charlie Perkins had been cousin to the Svobodas: His mother's sister had married Josef Svoboda and raised five boys. Charlie was an only child - a lonely, only child. His mother and her sister were not close and despite living in the same small Texas town, the two families rarely saw one another. The Svobodas were considerably more affluent than the Perkinses and as Charlie grew, so did his resentment about being the only child of a working-class father while his bunch of cousins seemed to enjoy the best of what life had to offer.

In 1945, Mrs. Perkins had gone by Abby. Her father had owned a bar and Abby used to help out after school and on weekends, washing glasses and sweeping up peanut shells from the plank floor. Charlie Perkins started coming in for a beer after work and once he got to know Abby a little bit, he started coming in more often. Charlie was friendly and chatty and incredibly handsome, upon that almost everyone could agree. He was also a solid ten years older than Abby was, and he looked at her in a way that would not be considered appropriate in the twenty-first century.

Outside, the chiming sound of Christopher's cell phone brought her back. Mrs. Perkins shook her head slightly, remembering Charlie's hand casually coming to rest on her young thigh, if she happened to be sitting at the bar doing homework when he came in. Oh, my, she thought, how times have changed.

One September evening Abby's father was called away from the bar and he left her to finish closing. It wasn't so unusual, really - they lived less than a mile away and it was a small town, everyone knew everyone. It was a quiet night and once the last customer left the bar, Abby began to close up. She was dropping the blinds and about to bolt the front door when Charlie walked in, startling her.

"Oh, goodness!" she said, and seeing it was Charlie, said, "Hey, Mr. Perkins - I'm just about to close up. Dad had to go early and it's pretty quiet so I'm just going to shut her down, sorry."

Charlie Perkins smiled at her, handsome as ever. "Hey, now, Miss Abby - can't a guy get a beer? I'll sit and drink it right quick, keep you company while you close up. What do you say, pretty girl?"

Abby blushed a little bit at this good-looking, older man calling her "pretty girl" and said, "Oh, all right - but only one. I've got to get going home. School tomorrow, you know."

Charlie Perkins beamed as he accepted his pint glass. "Interfere with your studies? I wouldn't dream of it!" He raised his drink in a mock toast.

Abby giggled, feeling herself blushing again.

But Mr. Perkins was so nice and when she'd been ready to go, she hadn't thought much of it when he suggested that he give her a lift home. She hadn't even been alarmed when he went west on the farm-to-market road instead of east, the direction of her house. She'd only been a little bit puzzled and when she'd asked, he told her that there was something that he wanted to show her. Then he started to tell her a funny story about something that he had seen once on a childhood trip to Oklahoma. Charlie Perkins told a good story. Abby laughed.

They hadn't driven too far when he turned onto a bumpy dirt road. The headlights bounced over the bushes at the edges of the road and Abby felt the first chill, deep in her belly. "Where are we?" she asked him. Charlie was quick to respond.

"We're at my cousins' place. You know the Svobodas? Yeah, those old boys are all my cousins. They've got this beautiful old barn that sits high up on this bluff - should be coming up here pretty soon on our left. Anyhow, it's just such a nice night and not too late, right? The moon's nearly full and I thought we could sit by the barn and enjoy the view and maybe talk a little while..." He trailed off as he turned to look at her; Abby kept her gaze focused on the road.

Charlie pulled up in the dirt lot and walked around the car in the moonlight to let Abby out. She got out.

*****

He hadn't exactly raped her. Losing her virginity in the hay in the rich cousins' barn hadn't been the stuff of dreams, but even at fifteen she had heard worse stories. She'd been flattered by his attentions, after all, and he hadn't hurt her. It hadn't lasted long and most of the time she'd stared intently at the moonlight shining on the huge, intricate web of an orb-weaver spider. The elegant spider sat motionless in the center of the web just as Abby lay motionless underneath Mr. Perkins.

Getting pregnant was a worse surprise, by far. Having to explain to her parents had been painful and Abby had been mortified the evening that Charlie Perkins walked into the bar, not knowing she was pregnant, not knowing that her father knew. Abby had thought her father was going to kill him.

Instead, he had handed her to Charlie at the tiny courthouse wedding that was arranged for the week before Thanksgiving, before she was starting to show. Soon thereafter, they had left Texas and gone north, far enough that no one who knew anyone would know anything about the Perkinses.

Charlie hadn't been a bad husband. A cheater, but not mean. An incorrigible liar, though. My god, how he had lied to her, but he had been beautiful while those lies floated from between his sweet lips. Something about the beauty of him had made the lies easier to bear.

Mrs. Perkins hadn't expected to ever return to Texas. She was surprised when her son Michael had sent her an email with the listing for the Svoboda ranch. After his father had died, Mrs. Perkins had told Michael her story but lord, that had been years back. She hadn't expected him to remember all the names.

As soon as she opened the email and saw the photos - the photo of the barn - she knew she had to go back. And here she was, standing in this same barn where, seventy-six years ago, her life had taken an abrupt turn in a direction she hadn't planned and had been unable to alter. She moved over to the tall support beam that held up the loft above - the spider's beam - and leaned into it, sighing heavily.

Behind her, Christopher cleared his throat. "Mizz Perkins? You doin' all right in here?"

"Oh, yes, I'm quite all right," she said.

"Well, I know you've traveled quite a long way just to see this property. If it's not rude of me, can I ask if you were thinking of it as an investment for your kids? your grandkids? There sure is a lot of development going on in this area," he said. "I could drive you down to the site of the old homestead, maybe take you over to look at the creek. It runs, even in summer - got some real pretty places you might build a house near to it."

Mrs. Perkins smiled. Christopher looked so hopeful. She shook her head, "No, thank you, Christopher. That won't be necessary." She started to walk back towards his truck, fanning herself as she went. Christopher followed her, opening the passenger door of his truck and helping her climb in.

"May I ask why?" he said, looking confused.

"Oh, honey," said Mrs. Perkins, still holding on to Christopher's hand, "I just came to say goodbye."