“Ashes to ashes, rust to rust,” Terry grinned as he emerged from the house with a couple of beers.
Pole smiled as he took one of the drinks. “You always say that.”
“Yeah, well, when we get to sitting out here, you always fixate on that old car.”
“Guess I’m just thinking back to when we were kids. Remember how we used to play in it?”
“Sure do,” Terry chuckled. “You’d be in the driver’s seat, making ‘vroom, vroom’ noises, and Aurora would be under the hood with a toy tool kit, thinking she could fix the engine if only she had better tools.”
[spoiler]“Ashes to ashes, rust to rust,” Terry grinned as he emerged from the house with a couple of beers.
Pole smiled as he took one of the drinks. “You always say that.”
“Yeah, well, when we get to sitting out here, you always fixate on that old car.”
“Guess I’m just thinking back to when we were kids. Remember how we used to play in it?”
“Sure do,” Terry chuckled. “You’d be in the driver’s seat, making ‘vroom, vroom’ noises, and Aurora would be under the hood with a toy tool kit, thinking she could fix the engine if only she had better tools.”
“Yeah, and you’d be trying to tell us it was a spaceship, not a car, and how we would never get to Mars if we insisted it was a car,” Pole laughed.
“I refuse to stifle my imagination,” Terry replied.
The car in question was Terry’s grandfather’s old 1956 Hudson Hornet. For some reason, the old man had never got rid of it, even after it was replaced by a brand-new 1962 Mercury; which, in turn, had been replaced by a 1969 Chevy. The Mercury and the Chevy were long gone, but the Hudson remained, quietly rusting away near the tractor shed.
“What’s Aurora up to now?” Terry asked. “Did you ever find out?”
“Nope,” Pole replied. “Never did. That detective wasn’t very good, I guess.”
Pole winced slightly at the lie, but in the fading light of the day, Terry didn’t notice. In fact, the detective had found Aurora, and had given her information to Pole, but Pole hadn’t yet used it. On the one hand, it would be great to re-establish contact with his sister, especially now that their father was dead; but on the other, would she really want to reconnect with home, where she was hurt so badly?
Later that night, after he had left Terry’s, Pole sat alone with a mug of coffee at his kitchen table and thought about Aurora. Officially named Aurora Borealis McCandless, she was his only sibling; his older sister, older by two years. She had an unusual name, but one that their parents had liked so much that family lore said that had Pole been a girl, he would have been named Aurora too, only with the middle name of “Australis.” As it was, Pole arrived in this world a boy and had received his own unique name: Polaris Ursus McCandless. But to most people, he was simply “Pole.”
Nobody knew why the McCandless kids received such unusual names. Their parents never said. But their names were just about the only unusual things about Aurora and Pole. For the most part, their childhoods were pretty normal for kids growing up in a small town. School, playing with friends, riding their bikes the short distance out of town to Terry’s family’s farm, where they could swim in the creek or help take care of the animals or play in the old Hudson. Their mother was a housewife; their father worked at the mill. A very normal, very happy, childhood.
Problems arose as time passed, though. Their father, who normally came home after work, started joining his workmates for a beer after work. Then it was two beers, then three, and on up to six or ten. He would habitually come home late and drunk and angry, and proceed to take out his anger on his wife and son. But never Aurora.
No, never Aurora, Pole reflected from his seat at the kitchen table. For Aurora, who had grown into a beautiful teenage girl, their father had a special treat. And she would get it, later that night in her bedroom, after the family was supposedly asleep. But Pole was awake and heard it, and so did their mother. And nobody said a word.
Their mother had died when Aurora was 16. Things got a little better after that, but soon soured again: Pole was now the recipient of all his father’s drunken anger, and Aurora was the recipient of all her father’s drunken lust. Pole still heard it, late at night; and though he hadn’t been to church in years, he prayed for his sister. He had tried to speak with Aurora about it, but she either refused to talk, or she would tell Pole that there was nothing that could be done. If she ran away to a friend’s, their father would come after her; if she told a teacher or somebody at school, they couldn’t do much; and if she told the police in their small town, well, they were among their father’s drinking buddies anyway, so they wouldn’t believe her.
Thus it was no surprise to Pole when, the morning of her 18th birthday, Aurora wasn’t there. Pole instinctively knew that she hadn’t gone out on some errand or something that would have her back soon; she was gone for good.
And indeed, Aurora hadn’t been heard from since. Their father had initially called friends and relatives, to see if Aurora had gone to stay with them; and when those inquiries turned up nothing, had called the police. They sympathized, but informed him that as a legal adult of 18, Aurora had the right to do as she pleased.
And Pole had suffered his father’s habitual drunken wrath alone, until he could go away to school, which he did; and then he moved to the big city to work. Contact between Pole and his father had been sporadic after that, and was usually limited to phone calls involving birthday and holiday greetings. When he got a call saying that his father had died, Pole returned to clean up his father’s affairs and ended up staying. He re-established links with his old friends, like Terry; and got a job that didn’t pay quite as well as his big city one did; but then, the cost of living was lower too, so it all evened out.
Pole looked at his now-empty coffee mug. Did Aurora know their father had died? He had wondered that often in the ten years since his father’s death. Not that there was any other reason to contact her—their father had left precious little to his children, having drank most of what would become his estate. But, Pole realized, he simply wanted to get in touch with his sister again. Pole had genuinely cherished his sister’s company years ago, and he missed her; and if she didn’t know about their father, well, maybe she should.
Pole put his coffee mug in the sink, and got the information that he had paid the detective to find from its place in his desk drawer.
The coffee shop was busy on a weekday morning, but not overly so. Pole had been able to get some coffee, and find a table among the newspaper readers and the laptop browsers. He had no such distractions, but he kind of wished he did. He was a little nervous, and having something to do with his hands might have made him feel better. As it was, he toyed with his paper cup and watched the door.
He knew her immediately when she walked in. Years had passed, and they were both older, but there was no mistaking Aurora. She headed for the counter, but she noticed Pole as he stood up, and headed over.
“Pole?” she asked hesitantly. “Is that you?”
“Aurora. Yes. Umm … hello.” Unsure of what one did in such a situation, Pole extended his right hand.
Aurora took it and they shook. “Hello,” she said. “Ah … how are you?”
“Fine … good … you know,” Pole stammered. “And you?”
“Yes … good also,” Aurora replied nervously. “Listen, let me get some coffee, and we’ll talk.”
“Sure, yes,” Pole replied, glad of the chance to sit down again.
Aurora returned with some coffee. “I didn’t think we’d ever see each other again.”
Pole sidestepped the implied question. “Do you know about Dad?”
“Yes, I heard,” Aurora replied. “A friend who has a co-worker who has family back home showed me the death notice from the local paper.”
“Oh.” Pole said sadly. “That was kind of the purpose of my trip.”
“But Pole, Dad died years ago. Why did you wait so long to find me and tell me?”
“I didn’t think you wanted to be found,” Pole said. “I thought you just wanted all contact broken.”
“I did. But I also missed you, Pole.”
“So why did you never contact me?” Pole asked. “You knew where I was.”
“Because Dad was there too,” Aurora said, looking away. “Then after Dad died, I was too busy with a husband and work and such, and never got around to it.”
“A husband? You got married?”
“Yes,” Aurora said wryly, “to the sweetest, most wonderful man imaginable, whom I cherished. And who, as it turned out, would have a midlife crisis involving a blonde in her early twenties. So … no more husband.”
Pole smiled. “No slouch you,” he commented. “Any kids?”
“No,” Aurora said a little regretfully. “Just me. And my cat. What about you?”
It is not an easy thing to catch up on a period of years in only a few days, especially when one of the parties has to go to work, but the two siblings managed. First in the coffee shop, then over dinners, and even on Aurora’s lunch breaks, Pole and Aurora reconnected. Aurora related what she had done after leaving, and while the cheap rooms and lousy jobs didn’t sound very appealing to Pole, he was glad to hear that it all turned out okay—Aurora ended up getting a good education, and was now quite respected in her field. For his part, Pole talked about what he had done, and how he had moved back after their father died, and how he still hung out with Terry, who now owned his family farm, complete with Hudson.
At that, Aurora laughed. “That old car! It’s still there?”
“Sure is,” Pole smiled. “Just the other day, we were talking about how we all used to play in it as kids.”
“’Vroom, vroom’,” Aurora teased.
“’I’d get this thing working if only I had better tools’,” Pole retorted playfully.
“’You guys, it’s a spaceship!’” Both siblings laughed.
When they had stopped laughing, Pole said, “Aurora, do you think you could ever find your way back home?”
“Pole, I can’t. I’ve got a good life here, and too many bad memories there.”
“Just for a visit. I know Terry would love to see you. And I’d like more time to catch up with you.”
“I’ve got to work, Pole. I’m not well-off; I didn’t get as much as you might think from my divorce settlement.”
“Aurora—“
“No,” Aurora said quietly. “I’m glad to be back in touch with you, Pole, and I hope we can stay in touch. But even a visit back home … no.”
“Think about it, Aurora. Promise me you’ll at least consider it.”
Aurora was silent.
“Ashes to ashes, rust to rust.” It was a few weeks later, and Terry grinned as he sipped his beer and spoke his favourite line.
Pole smiled. “You need new material.”
“Well, you’re looking at the Hudson again. Look at something else and I’ll come up with a new line.”
Pole laughed. “Okay, how about I look at that car coming up the driveway?”
“Huh? I’m not expecting anybody.”
“Well, there it is,” Pole pointed. A car was indeed coming up Terry’s driveway.
“Nope, never seen it before.”
The two men watched the car as it pulled up near the old Hudson. The driver’s door opened and a woman emerged. She pointed to the Hudson and called out, “You know, I could get this old thing working again if only I had better tools.”
“Aurora!” Pole shouted happily, and ran out to greet his sister.
[/spoiler]
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