History Lesson

HISTORY LESSON

A few words from the author:

This one has been close to a year in the making, and it's over twice as long as anything else I've submitted. Getting it to where I'm happy with it has been a struggle. Somebody said that 'Art is never finished, only abandoned.' I've heard it credited to everyone from Leonardo Da Vinci to Paul Valéry to Gore Vidal. Now, I'm not claiming that this is art - at best it's the literary equivalent of finger painting - but I am saying I'm finished poking at it. For now.

There are a fair number of Welsh phrases in the text, so I have included a glossary with translations and pronunciations at the end. Forgive me for not always including translations in the text; I felt that it detracted from the flow of the story.

I owe a big 'thank you' to several people:

First, a debt of gratitude to vcwriter17b for his comments, suggestions, and encouragement through several drafts and re-drafts. He provided more than a few excellent ideas that I am certain elevated the story.

Thanks also to PrestigeOctopus for his patience with my innumerable grammatical issues.

Finally, thank you very much to MattBlackUK for agreeing to beta read the final draft, and for his advice on the Welsh aspects of the story.

><><><><><

Chapter 1

October

It was one of those rare perfect days. Mid-October, but not too cold; crisp and clear, with a slight breeze. Perfect for a walk, and it would be nice to get out of the house for a bit, before I had to get back to grading papers.

I looked at Hank, my four-year-old lab-shepherd-something else mix. Really, I had no idea what breed he was, and didn't actually care. When did cock-a-poodle-doos, and labra-trieva-dociouses become breeds, anyway? I rescued him when he was about six months old and he is the best dog I've ever known. Smarter than I was, for sure. Don't know what made me decide to go to the pound that day. Maybe I was getting tired of my lonely house and my lonely life. But I'm glad I did.

"What do you say, Hank? Time for a walk?" He ran over, picked up his leash from the chair in the hall, and gamboled back to me, head high, tail wagging.

"Hang on, buddy, let me put your coat on." Not sure how I started referring to his harness as a 'coat'. I put mine on as well, then hooked him up. I couldn't bear the thought of yanking a dog around by his neck, so I got him a nice harness that went across his chest in front, then under his ribs just behind his front legs. It looks like a service dog harness, so he sometimes got mistaken for one even though there's no sign and it was just a plain brown color.

Anyway, we went out the front door, locked up, and turned in the direction of downtown. That's perhaps a bit of a misnomer in a 'city' of about 12,000 people. It went up to about 16,000 when the college was in session. I taught American history there, with a focus on the period from 1700 through 1900. It's part of the reason I decided to move here when I did. The town was rife with history from both the Revolutionary and Civil Wars. Perhaps an odd choice for a naturalized citizen, but I enjoyed it.

I figured we both could use the exercise, so I set a fairly brisk pace.

"Peidiwch â phoeni, Hank. We can take our time to sniff mailboxes on the way back." He seemed to be okay with that. It still took about 25 minutes to make it to the centre of town, which was not much more than two parallel streets along the river; tree-lined Main Street running sort of north to south and Randall Street, as you may have surmised, south to north. Both of them were lined with historic buildings and homes stretching back through the town's rich history. Mostly Federal style, with a smattering of Queen Anne and even Greek Revival; it gave the town a character that was hard not to appreciate.

Midway along Randall Street, there were two huge churches that stood side-by-side; St. George's and First Baptist. You'd think that it would be awkward, but somehow it worked. The two congregations got along just fine. Just another indicator of the town's character.

Crain Avenue was an intersecting road running west to east that led to farmland across the river. I was happy to see that they'd finally finished construction on the new bridge, but sad to see the old one go. They'd tried to retain its original character, since it was one of the landmark structures for the town. But to most folks, it was a miss.

Main Street held the majority of shops and restaurants, so that's where we wound up, doing a little window shopping, with periodic stops for snacks and drinks for Hank. The town was very dog-friendly, and many shops left water bowls and treats outside for pets.

I was starting to feel a bit peckish and found myself outside a place whose dubious claim to fame was their enormous southern-style biscuits. People seemed to like them, but in my opinion, they could be used as a chew toy for Hank. Or a weapon. But they did make a good Bloody Mary, and I thought I might be in the mood for one.

The enterprising owner of this particular place squeezed a couple of small tables on the sidewalk just outside the entrance. The sidewalk really wasn't wide enough, but for just me, it was ok. Hank plopped himself down under the table as I glanced over the menu.

As I arrived, I noticed that at the other table, across the entrance, were two young women who looked like they might be college-age or a little older. One had her back to me and her bulky coat hid her form, but the other was slim, with short brown hair covered by a tan watch cap with an unfamiliar logo on it. She had on a sort of sweatshirt-and-denim jacket, black jeans, and black boots. Attractive, in an androgynous sort of way.

A waitress appeared, looking a little harried. It was getting a bit chilly, so I decided against the Bloody Mary and just asked for coffee and an English muffin. She checked on the young ladies, then started to head back inside.

And that's when it happened.

The other girl, the one with her back to me, suddenly turned in her chair and asked the waitress a question. I didn't even hear what she said, because I felt like all the air had been sucked out of my lungs.

"Ni all hynny fod!" I heard myself gasp aloud.

She had auburn hair, well beyond shoulder-length, and a pretty, heart-shaped face. In quick succession, I saw her hair, then blue-green eyes, and then it all came to a head. I saw her pregnant shape - maybe four to five months along - and, fleetingly, astonishingly, the face of my late wife. Time slowed to nearly a standstill. There was no sound, no world, other than the gentle swell of her belly, as she - in seeming slow motion - brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. I was transfixed, for one brief nanosecond of how, but then everything came rushing back, as the earth resumed its normal rotation, and once again, I felt that crushing despair that I thought I had moved past. Clearly not.

I knew that's how far along she was, because that's exactly what Olivia looked like when she... no, stop it, I didn't want... I felt my chest start to ache, and Hank must have felt it too because he got up, and pressed himself against my leg. I told you he was a smart dog. I heard him whine, and it started to bring me out of whatever deep and dark place I was headed. I stroked his head, as I struggled to control my heart rate. I took a deep breath and let it out. "Thanks, buddy." His tail thumped.

But my little trip down memory lane hadn't gone unnoticed. I must have had a dreadful expression on my face, and the girl in the watch cap chose to take it the wrong way. Later, I'd find out she had reasons, but in that moment, I was taken aback.

"What the hell, dude? Stare much? Can't handle two women being together? Is everyone in this prissy little town too stuck up to have an open mind?"

Her... not friend, as I had previously assumed, but what must be her girlfriend or wife, reached out to her, tried to get her to calm down. "Sheila, please..."

"No Jenny, I won't 'please.' This asshole thinks he can judge us? Well, fuck him! It's people like him that made us leave Illinois! I am so fucking tired of it!" She started to get up.

Suddenly, I was tired of it too.

"Are you through judging me? Sheila, was it? Look, I'm sorry for staring." I sighed. "And I guess I can't blame you for jumping to conclusions. I can't imagine the issues you've had to deal with. But the only reason I was staring is because seeing her..." I nodded toward the other young woman, "reminded me... well, reminded me of something - someone - so strongly, and it was a shock." I took a breath. "It just hit me really hard, and I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Have a nice day."

I threw a couple of bills on the table and headed off. "Awn ni, Hank, let's find a squirrel to chase or something."

He came quietly, still pressed against me.

I heard footsteps hurrying up behind me. "Please, mister, wait a minute. Please!" I stopped, sighed, and turned to see the pregnant girl about ten feet away, looking distraught.

She looked down, her fingers nervously twisting together "I'm sorry too. It's just... well, like you said, we've had some rough times, Sheila and me. I know you don't need to hear our problems, but it's hard." She sniffed, looking off to the side. "Everyone looking at us, making up their minds before we even get a chance. So, it's hard not to judge back, you know?" She brought her eyes back to mine.

I ran my fingers through my hair. In just a few sentences, this young woman had taken every bit of self-righteous indignation out of me. I could feel the corner of my mouth twitch in just the beginning of a smile.

"That's fair," I acknowledged. "Actually, that's more than fair."

I nodded toward their table, holding my hand out, indicating that she should precede me. She did, and we slowly walked over. I held out my hand to Sheila.

"Hi, I'm Ieuan Davies. I'm sorry for snapping at you."

She looked at her partner for a moment, then back at me. "Sheila. Sorry for being so judgy." We shook. She had a good, firm grip.

I turned and held my hand out to the pregnant girl.

"Oh!" she jumped a bit. "I'm Jenny." She smiled shyly.

I glanced at my watch. "Listen, I really would like the opportunity to show you that there ARE good people in this town. And if you'd like, maybe we could meet again and share our stories?" I'm not sure why I even offered that. Did I want to talk about my past? But my mouth just kept motoring along without me.

Sheila and Jenny looked at each other. Still trying to figure out why this seemed important, I blundered on before they could come up with a reason to cut things short.

"Can I invite you for dinner this evening? My treat. I have to get Hank home, and grade a few papers, but I'd like the chance to completely clear the air."

I was pretty sure Sheila would shoot it down, but she surprised me. It probably didn't hurt that Jenny was giving her puppy dog eyes, but she almost graciously said, "Sure, that would be nice. How's 6:00? It'll take me at least until then to get my foot out of my mouth." She grinned a little ruefully, and Jenny grabbed her hand.

"Works for me," I replied. I named a place down the street, mentioning that it had a decent menu and a great craft beer selection. Jenny rolled her eyes at that. "Nice, take the pregnant girl to a bar! Gee, thanks!"

"We can go wherever you want," I offered.

"No, that's fine; I'm just teasing."

"Okay, great. See you then."

They headed off, and I called to Hank. "Come on bud, let's go home." As promised, we took our time, giving Hank plenty of opportunities to sniff out the canine version of social media and leave a few messages of his own.

Eventually, I looked at him. "So, what did you think of those two, Hank?"

He chuffed at me.

"Hmmm. Still undecided, aye? Probably wise."

Hank stopped to sniff at a particularly interesting shrub.

"We certainly got off on the wrong foot, didn't we?"

"Woof."

"Eitha reit. Well, at least I have the opportunity to make it up to them," I offered.

Hanks whined.

"No, sorry, you can't come to dinner. But I'll see if I can't make it up to you, all right?"

Hank woofed again, mollified.

As we continued our rambling way homeward, I tried to figure out why it was suddenly so important to me that I be on good terms with them. Eventually, I gave up that train of thought as fruitless and just let my mind wander. We got back to the house, where I relieved Hank of his harness, refilled his water, and gave him a well-earned snack.

Then I sat at my desk, where I forced myself to trudge through my History 101 students' latest offerings on the causes of World War I. I knew most of them would expound on the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, but in reality, there were a multitude of events leading up to the Great War. I used this as a way to sort out those kids who were just trying to pass my class versus those who could actually do some critical thinking. Those students, if I ever saw them in a higher-level course, I would take some time to get to know them, and if appropriate, encourage them toward graduate work. Unfortunately, there were no hidden gems in this batch.

When I clicked off my desk lamp, I noticed how dark it was getting. Damn it, I was going to be late. I changed my shirt, threw on some deodorant and a sport coat, fed Hank, and rushed out the door.

I made it to the restaurant just before six and was lucky to find a parking place out front. I went inside, suddenly realizing that we hadn't exchanged phone numbers, and I didn't know either of their last names. Fortunately, I saw Jenny's head pop up from the high-backed booth they were sitting in, and she waved. I nodded to the hostess and pointed at them.

"Umm, looks like my party is already here."

She smiled brightly. "Of course, sir, go right on back."

I walked over and slid across from them. Jenny smiled and seemed happy to be there. Sheila was more reserved, and she gave me a tight-lipped smile.

"Hello ladies; sorry I'm late," I began.

"No worries, we were early," said Jenny, brightly. "Starving pregnant girl, you know," as she waved her hand at the half-demolished appetizer already in front of her.

The waitress came over and asked if I'd like a drink. I noticed that Jenny had a glass of water, and Sheila was drinking a Coors Light from the bottle. So much for the craft beer selection! But I was still going to take advantage.

"Do you have Old Bust Head Vixen?"

She nodded in the affirmative.

"Great, I'll have one of those."

She nodded again and headed off.

Sheila looked at me a little quizzically.

"It's a local brewery, not too far from here. But they're quite good, at least in my opinion."

She gave me a "whatever you say, dude" head bob.

We did the usual awkward small talk... were you able to find the place ok... hope traffic wasn't too bad... how about this weather... that kind of thing, until the waitress came back and rescued us, setting down my beer. Jenny was still working on her appetizer, so the waitress said she'd be back in a minute. I poured my beer into the mug and took a sip. I nodded appreciatively.

Sheila cocked her head to the side and looked at it, then at me. She raised an eyebrow.

"It's an Irish Red Ale," I said in explanation. "That's just the style; it doesn't have to be brewed in Ireland. Although I'm sure that any Irishman would disagree. Want to try?" I offered the bottle to her, which still had a little bit left in it.

She held up a hand. "Nah, I'll stick with what I know, thanks." She grinned slightly, so it didn't seem like an outright rejection.

Jenny watched our interchange as she pushed the remains of her appetizer around her plate. It looked to be some sort of stuffed mushroom dish. I noticed that Sheila hadn't touched that either.

"So," I said, grasping for something to fill the silence, "when I got here, I realized that I didn't know how to reach you in case either of us couldn't make it for whatever reason. So, I'm glad you were able to come."

At about that time, the waitress returned and took our dinner orders.

Sheila ordered a burger and another beer. Jenny wanted the prime rib, rare. I gave her a look, and she blushed. "Eating for two; shut up!" I was pleased that she felt comfortable enough to tease me like that. I grinned and ordered the broiled haddock.

As she left to submit our orders, I tried to start again. King of small talk, that's me.

"So... I'm Ieuan Davies. I think I told you earlier."

Jenny jumped right in before I could continue. "I don't think I've ever heard that name before," she said, repeating my name slowly to herself. "Ieuan... Ieuan... hmmm. So, where are you from, Ieuan? You sound English."

"You wound me, madam!" I clutched my chest. Jenny gawped at me, and I chuckled.

"I'm just teasing. It's an easy mistake. But no, I was born in Wales. And NO, before you ask, they're not the same. Wales is part of the UK, like Northern Ireland and Scotland. I came to the States when I was fourteen, so I've probably lost some of my accent. That was nearly twenty years ago."

"Do you still have family there?"

"Yes, my sister Beca, she's about six years older, so she was about 20 when my parents and I came here. She was in uni, so she decided to stay behind. She's married now and I have an 11-year-old niece, Linnet."

"Oh, that's a lovely name!" She looked at Sheila as she unconsciously stroked her belly.

"Anyway," I continued, looking down, "Dad is a professor like me, and he got quite a good offer from the University of Washington. So, he, Mam, and I packed up and moved to Seattle. Of course, I wanted to stay with Beca, but she was still in school, and it wouldn't have been at all fair to her. But at fourteen, I selfishly didn't think about that, and I was pretty upset with my parents, especially my father, for the first year or so we were here."

I chuckled. "I was a little shit, to be honest. It seemed like nothing was going right for me. I was teased a bit because of my accent, but the worst was when I found out the school didn't have a rugby team. My best mate, Dylan, and I had played rugby for what seemed like our whole lives, and now... gone. I complained to my dad and he just told me to join the football - err, soccer - team. I almost tried out for the American-style football team, just to spite him, but I never would have been able to face anyone back home if I did that!" I laughed, imagining Dylan's face seeing me all suited up in pads and helmet. He would have laughed himself silly.

"So... I did play soccer in high school. Eventually, I made a few friends, and it was hard, but I adjusted. Thank God when I got to University, I found a club team and I could play rugby again. Anyway, I went through high school and college out there, then, came east, after... well..." I trailed off, not wanting to continue.

Thankfully, the waitress appeared with our meals. Bless her for excellent timing.

We continued to chit-chat while we ate. Jenny wanted to try some of my fish, and when she did, she gushed, "Ooh Sheila, this is wonderful! I'm getting this next time!" She gulped and looked at me, blushing. "I didn't mean to imply..."

I held up my hand. "Dm trafferth! Err, no trouble! Sorry, even after living here so long, the Welsh still sneaks out! Honestly, I'm happy to meet with you two whenever you like. I do need to get out of the house more. Besides," I continued, looking at Sheila, "It is our sworn duty to keep pregnant women happy. For the sake of the child, you understand. It's purely for health and safety reasons," I said, wisely.