Page 1 of Resilience on Canvas

Chapter One

Robert

WhenRobertDavispulledopen the front door to his farmhouse, he heaved an irritated sigh the moment he saw the state of the main room. Weary from exhaustion, he had left one of the windows open a smidge when he’d gone to water the only surviving crops earlier—a whopping four berry bushes and a few rows of carrots and potatoes—and so, in the span of the one and a half hours he’d been out, one of them strong windstorms had forced a whole bunch of useless powdery topsoil into their home. Now every surface was coated with a thin layer of the stuff. Again. Not only that, but plenty of centipedes had crawled in through the cracks and crevices, too. Robert would have to either shoo them back outside or squish them before his three siblings came home from school. Otherwise, he’d have to hear his sister May whining that they were scary while his brothers Thomas and Peter tried to catch the critters, either to play with or to save for later to then put in May’s hair.

Resigned to the reality of how he’d have to spend the next half hour or so, Robert ripped the makeshift mask off of his face and set to work on making the farmhouse a tiny bit neater for suppertime. He fetched a broom that had been left to rest near the entrywayand began sweeping. Hopefully he’d finish before his pop came back from wherever he was. The son of a bitch had probably meandered into town to buy beer. Somehow, even though their family had such little money, Raymond Davis never seemed to have trouble finding enough to muddle his mind with the bitter brew. Robert had tried the stuff a few times himself, but it hadn’t never made him feel no different. Maybe his pop had been having something else instead, then, like moonshine or whiskey. Some other folks in Guymon were making batches of those on the sly. Robert kind of wanted to try some himself. He wouldn’t, though. Not anytime soon. Because May and Thomas and Peter and Clara needed him. Well, Clara wouldn’t need him for much longer since she was set to marry Henry Sherwood, but for now, she was still Robert’s responsibility. While Clara marrying Henry would mean that there’d be one less mouth for Robert to feed, it would also mean less help with the younger ones. After Clara left, it would be up to Robert to see that their younger siblings finished school. It’d be up to him to cook every evening. And it’d be up to him to try to bring their farm back from the sorry state it was currently in.

Well, that last thing wouldn’tonlybe up to him.

In order to save the farm, they’d have to be blessed with some Goddamn rain too.

Muttering a soft prayer for some rain showers, Robert continued sweeping the floor, and with each swipe of the broom, he sent more of them creepy crawly centipedes outside. When he was through, he let the broom fall with a clatter before finding a “clean” rag—one that wasn’t really even that clean thanks to the brown powder that had settled on the fabric while he’d been out—and then started on wiping the table.

Midway through, Clara strolled in, her brow furrowed and mouth set to a frown.

“I only managed to buy three cans of peas,” she said, putting the basket on the table next to where Robert was cleaning. “Mr. Sherwood upped the price.”

Straightening his posture, Robert placed a hand on his hip. “Mr. Sherwood?BobSherwood? Why’d you buy from him? Where was Henry? He’d have let you have ’em for last month’s price. Either that or sneak you some.”

“I, uhm, I haven’t seen him. Not since I brought up the weddin’ last time.”

Clara averted her eyes. Robert waited for her to say more, but she stayed quiet and began making little patterns on the tabletop by smearing her fingertip through the last remnants of dirt on the surface. Clearly she wasn’t keen on saying nothing else on the subject.

Robert swept his hand over top of her etching, erasing it entirely.

“I can tell when you’re lyin’, Clara,” he said, his voice stern. “What happened with Henry?”

“Nothin’. I mean, I said ‘hi’ to him, but he ignored me.”

“Ignored you?” Robert scoffed, his blood starting to boil. “Why the hell would he ignore you? Ain’t you two supposed to marry in less than a month?”

Clara took a step back from the table, hunching forward and hanging her head low like she was trying to curl in on herself.

“Well, maybe he... maybe he changed his mind,” she said, fiddling with her light-brown hair and combing through it with her fingers. “Ain’t like it was his idea, anyway.”

“Who cares if it was his idea or not? He’d be Goddamn lucky to have you!”

One corner of Clara’s mouth twitched, curling up ever so slightly.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “It wouldn’t be no problem if Henry backed out, though. I like livin’ here. Henry’s handsome and everything, but—”

“Nuh-uh, Clara, stop that. Henry wouldn’t change his mind. Ain’t no way he’sthatbig a fool. Our families had an understandin’. You were to marry him so that you could have a better life than this.”

Shaking her head, she replied, “What, the wife of a shop clerk?”

“Hey, he’ll own that store eventually. Mr. Bob Sherwood said so himself. Told me he’d be leavin’ it to his nephew Henry when he passed. If you marry Henry, you’ll be set for life.”

“I bet they ain’t even doin’ that good money-wise. Nobody has money for nothin’.”

“Yeah, but everybody needs to eat. I know they must sell abunchof cans of vegetables every month. Sacks of beans and flour and such, too. And Henry’s mother is still teachin’, so it ain’t like he’ll have to support his folks.”

Clara only shrugged. Maybe she was trying to make herself feel better in case Henry reallywasrejecting her. But why would he? Clara was the prettiest woman for miles. Henry’s parents had liked Robert’s proposition of the two of them marrying. They’d promised Robert that Henry would like it, too. What kind of man over twenty-three wasn’t married? Other than Robert. And Robert...

Well, Robert had his reasons.

Resuming his cleaning, Robert said, “What if I head over to the shop tomorrow and talk to Henry for you?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

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