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“And that's why we're the only people who will build anything in this weather,” Mark said proudly.
“What?” Jacob screamed over the sound of howling wind as Mark nailed the piece of plywood in place. The moment he did, Jacob let go of the sheet, more than a little relieved. He felt like he'd been holding that sheet for days. They had gone into town and purchased a pair of decent gloves, but he could still barely feel the ends of his fingers as they stood on the outcropping. They were one of the many construction crews that worked out of Hope Crossing. Jacob we technically too young to do a job like this, at least according to state law, but no one seemed to care, and they were a man short today.
When he'd told Thomas what he'd planned to do today, he'd just received a chuckle in return.
“What?” he had demanded of Thomas. “You think I can't handle it?”
Thomas walked into the living room going from slight chuckle to outright laughter. As he worked on the roofing, Jacob realized the reason for Thomas’ laughter. Here in the depths of December, with wind chill factors below five degrees, Mark and Jacob had agreed to climb onto this outcropping and secure wall panels. As they did, the wind slammed against their faces, and chilled their skin like nothing they had ever felt in their lives.
Moments after they had secured the wall paneling, a thin sheet of ice formed, not unlike the surface they were standing on which was ice-skating slick and treacherous. In addition to the low temperatures and wind, Jacob had managed to soak the fingertips of his gloves, causing his own fingers to feel as if they were aflame, or at least severely burned. Each time the wind blew, a sharp burning sensation assaulted the underside of every single finger of Jacob’s hands. At one point, he had gotten the bright idea to take the gloves off, but he quickly found that the thin layer of material over his skin was actually doing more good than harm. When he attempted to work without the aid of gloves, his fingers became stiff and unusable, much to his dismay.
The one thing Jacob was eternally grateful for at this point was that the Amish did not require him to conform to 18th century clothing traditions when it came to cold weather. He was equipped with a black Car-hart jacket and a pair of high-end Sorel Arctic boots that kept his feet planted firmly against the roof surface. He stupidly opted to wear his normal blue jeans so that the only part of him that remained warm was his torso, and he was certain his feet were warm, though we couldn't really feel them through the insulation in his boots.
“Never again!” Jacob screamed. “Never, freaking, again!”
As the words escaped his mouth, the wind died down, allowing the last part of his statement to ring out clear as day. He wasn't sure how many had heard him as the next words spoken was, “Lunch break!”
The supervisor declared a lunch break, and Jacob could not be happier.
“You know what this means?” he asked Mark.
“It means we're going into town for lunch,” Mark said, breathing heavily.
“A hot lunch...maybe they'll take us to that chicken place.” “No, they'll probably take us to the diner,” Mark said. He was probably right. The diner was Amish run and tasted like home – ergo it was the preference of most on the crew. “Okay, let's go...where's the ladder?” Mark asked.
Jacob edged across the roof to look. The ladder was gone. It had been the only way to access the outcropping unless they planned to squeeze between the studs, and as it turned out, they had just covered up the last gap with a sturdy sheet of plywood.
“Hello?” He called out, peeking around the corner of the house. To his horror, he saw the rest of the workers pile into the van and drive off the property. “Hey! HEY! STOP!”
It was too late, but Jacob made a lunge for the van anyway. Mark grabbed his arm and prevented him from slipping right off the edge.
“Just...hold on,” Mark said, looking over the edge. Jumping was out of the question. Though the outcropping would normally have been eight feet off the ground, the foundation had been dug below them, expanding it considerably. In addition, a series of stakes had been pounded into the ground to show the limits of the foundation, and had for some reason been pushed back. Unfortunately, no one had cared or remembered to remove the old stakes, making the area below an actual spike pit. Jumping would be fatal at best.
“Well that's a conundrum,” Mark said as he slowly lowered himself into a sitting position, grabbing the trench at the peak of the roof for support. Jacob did the same.
“What do we do now?” Jacob asked.
“Wait for them to get back, then pay the van to take us home.
I'm not finishing out the day.”
As he spoke, a gust of wind came from the east and rocked them in place. Jacob tightened his grip on the trench and grimaced. He had known that this job was not exactly safe, but he'd taken it anyway. He would think better of it next time.
“When I get back,” Jacob said. “I'm going to have some of that beef stew Sarah made the other day, “carrots, little beef chunks....”
“Stop talking about food,” Mark snapped. “Just...sit here, and let me die in peace.”
“You know we don't have a roof on,” Jacob pointed out. “We could just climb over the wall behind us.”
“Don't even think about it,” Mark warned without making so much as a move to stop him. “Top of that wall is going to be covered in ice, and you'll spend half an hour trying to break it off.”
“That's better than doing nothing, isn't it?”
“Fine, if you want to reach up there and try to break ice you can't even see, you go right ahead, but don't 'spect me to come behind and lend a hand.”
“I wasn't expecting anything of the sort,” Jacob grumbled as he stood up, using the wall for support as he began to pound on the ice with all his might. “I think I felt it crack a little, we're going to be home free in a few minutes.”
“Keep telling yourself that’s the case,” Mark muttered as he lay against the wall, trying to get comfortable.
Jacob pounded the top of the wall some more, shaking it considerably, annoying Mark in the bargain. Finally, he gave it one last slam that not only bruised his fist, but also caused the loose ice to spray into his retina. He found himself slammed against the peak of the roof, his entire backside in unimaginable pain. He screamed, loud.
“Did you just break your butt?” Mark asked, still not moving from his position against the wall. “You need your butt to work.”
Jacob let out another miserable howl as he tried to sit up, but instead fell back onto the roof, causing even greater pain to himself.
“Oh right, we're leaving as soon as they get here,” Mark remembered. “It's a win-win situation; isn’t that what you are always saying?”
Jacob lay nearly flush against the roof when he heard the sound of tires moving over the gravel driveway, through the trees.
“They're back,” He moaned. “Tell them to...I don't know, call 911.”
“Call what?” Mark had no idea what calling 911 meant, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. “It isn't them, it's a car. A blue car. I think it is a nice one. This one actually has shiny tires.”
“Hubcaps,” Jacob said, trying to sit up again, and of course failing miserably. “You mean it has hubcaps.”
“The van doesn't have hubcaps,” Mark noted. “Do they cost a lot of money?”
“Uh...no..” Jacob said, wondering why Mark was suddenly so interested in car anatomy. “What's it doing now?”
“I think it's watching us,” Mark said, peering around the corner at it.
“Learning about us and going back to the car overlords?” “What? Sometimes the things you say just make no sense,”
Mark muttered as he continued watching the car. “Okay, someone's getting out. It's a lady!”
“Okay listen,” Jacob said, still staring upward at the greying sky. “I'm going to tell you to do something, and this may be the most important thing I ever ask of you.”
“Yeah?”
“Tell that lady to find a ladder so we can get down from here.” “Excuse me!” Mark began to shout. “Ma'am?”
“Hello?” A female voice shouted back. “Is someone up there?” “Yeah, over here!” Mark confirmed.
“Hello,” The woman said as Jacob strained to see her. “I'm looking for someone, and I was told he might be over here.”
“Well, I'll help you if I can!” Mark said cheerily. A little too cheerily. “Can you tell me whom you're looking for?”
“Well his name is Jacob Marshall,” The woman said. “He would be about fifteen by now.”
“Fourteen,” Jacob muttered from the other side of the outcropping. “I'm fourteen.”
“Are you sure you don't mean fourteen?” Mark asked.
“Hold on,” The woman said, rushing back to her car as quickly as she could in platform heels.
“So hungry....” Jacob said. “Need food.”
“Aren't you curious at what she wants?” Mark wondered.
“I've been in the foster system my whole life,” Jacob said, brushing it off entirely. “People are always coming around asking about me. Social workers, police officers, shop owners, car owners; you name it, and I’ve been hounded by them.”
The woman returned, holding a manila folder, sorting through it.
“Uh...it says fifteen here,” she said. “According to the state.”
“Well,” That's never happened before,” Jacob mumbled softly, He still only had a moderate interest in why she was here, although he had a nagging feeling it might be to cause trouble. Wasn’t that always the way? Since he had returned to the Masts last year, his life had been relatively quiet and stable. Even Deborah’s parents had backed down on tying him to a stake and crucifying him for that barn-burning incident. Of course, Deborah wasn’t the type of girl to let gossip and parental anger stand in the way of her friendships. They were just careful not to be seen, but the three of them had become almost inseparable. He thought them the three Musketeers, and she wasn’t half bad to look at either. In that respect, he was glad to have Mark along and not. Sometimes, he wanted to kiss her, but that didn’t fly in Amish communities.
He was certain that her parents didn’t know that she hung out with them after school, which could cause another big blowup and a possible stoning from on high, but he liked her, and she liked him, so they risked continued friendship. His feelings for her nagged him always, and it was becoming more obvious as time passed that she had feelings, too.
“Well, what do you want with him?” Jacob recognized 'suspicious' face: squinted eyes, furrowed brows and tight lips, although it could also be Mark’s, “I’m freezing to death and trying to hold down a conversation without my teeth chattering.” look. An icy breeze reminded him of their state.
“I just need to speak with him,” she said, “Do you know where he is?”
“Well, it would be easier if I could know what you want,” Mark said apologetically. “We kind of take our privacy pretty seriously around here.”
“Don't you dare tell her where to find me,” Jacob warned. He was becoming more interested in her business with him, and not in a good way.
“Why not? It's not like she can get to you,” Mark whispered over his shoulder then looked back at the woman.
There was a momentary silence, but within seconds, they heard another vehicle pulling into the driveway. This time Jacob was certain it was the work van. Finally, he could get out of here. Suddenly, the cold air assaulting all of his senses simultaneously felt a bit warmer. It was going to be over soon. He once again tried to lift himself up, but each time his backside left the peak of the roof, a horrifically sharp pain shot through his buttocks. Maybe, it would be best if Mark just left him there to die. He shook his head and tried again, and again, and again.
“Listen,” The woman said, “the reason I'm asking...and I've come a really, really long way—”
“You might want to hurry it up,” Mark said as the van began to unload. “We've got work to do here.”
“We're leaving, remember,” Jacob said lazily, blood finally beginning to rush to his head. “Well, you're leaving. I'll just stay here and die.”
“The reason I'm asking,” she said, “is because I'm his mother.I've been trying to find him for the past two years and—”
Jacob let out a howling scream as he sat straight up on the roof trench, and let out another scream as he lost his balance, slid forward and fell off of the outcropping into the hard soil, about thirteen feet below. He let out a scream that caused everyone on the frozen construction site to take pause, even though the snow might have cushioned his fall a bit.
“Oh,” Mark said, after Jacob had finished his tirade. “There he is.”
Jacob felt waves of pain through his body; his eyesight blurred and the ringing in his ears was awful. He would just lay here, go to sleep, freeze to death, and it would be over. The pain reminded him that he was still alive. Dead was preferable; the heavenly hosts would come, and he would ascend to the Pearly Gates. Alternatively, he would descend to the pits of hell. Either way, it would be over. Before he went, he wanted to see the only people he cared about one more time: Dorothy, Thomas and Sarah . . . and, of course, Deborah, hopefully, his future wife and forever Musketeer. He closed his eyes against the pain; he could feel the tears running down his face, freezing during the journey over his cheeks.
My mother?
