Story of Ben

STORY OF BEN

  By

  Don R. Hubbard

  * * *

  Story of Ben

  Copyright ? 2013 Don R. Hubbard

  Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes provided this book remains in its complete original form. Thank you for your support.

  Any resemblance of any character in this story to any person living or dead is coincidental. This story is a work of fiction.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to Gloria and April for insightful comments

  And to Eric Swedin for encouragement

  * * *

  "Courage is the first of human qualities, because it is the quality that guaranties all the others."

  - - Winston Churchill - -

  * * *

  Saturday morning. . . .

  Maggie stood in the kitchen and looked across her coffee cup toward the flower garden outside the window. She sipped her favorite coffee, from her favorite cup, in her favorite spot. What a great way to start the day. Beyond the side yard was the real object of her gaze - the unending row of tall eucalyptus trees which lined the east side of the road that ran by her house. Their leaves rustled in the breeze that blew in gently from the sea a mile down the road. Rays of morning sunlight streamed through the trees, proclaiming the beginning of a beautiful new day.

  To the right, down the road a half mile was a small white farm house with clapboard siding and a weathered roof. Beyond that, dozens of rows of young string bean plants, strewn across brown soil in never-ending stripes of green, curved softly over a distant hill and out of sight. As she looked out the window, she could see the small patch of weeds and sand not far down the road that interrupted the beauty of the scene. In its midst, the top of a concrete access duct to an old storm drain protruded a few inches above the ground. The shaft, about two feet across, was covered, but was badly worn. It rose up through the middle of a square area about twelve feet on each side, and was divided from the rest of the field by a sagging chain link fence. The county kept the small area clean and trimmed, but it just seemed out of place.

  As Maggie surveyed the landscape through the rising vapor of her coffee, something caught her eye. Down the road in the distance, was the figure of someone walking. Even that far off, she could tell it was a stranger - the gait was unfamiliar. In another moment she could see it was a man. He was coming up the road from the south - perhaps from a stroll down by the seashore. Maggie was not a nosy person. "Mind your business," her mother had taught her. But strangers walked the road that passed by her brick bungalow from time to time. She recognized most everyone who did. Something about this person made her curious. She stepped through the doorway which led to the garden on the south side of the house. The air was brisk and slightly damp, but it felt good to stand in the warmth of the sun. From the doorstep she watched the man as he continued along the road, slowly, but deliberately. And something else, there was a certain dignity in his walk.

  The figure gradually became larger and larger. As he neared the access duct Maggie instinctively put a hand up to her reddish-brown hair. With the gesture came a tinge of self-consciousness - she realized she was staring. She turned and attempted to look away toward the salmon colored rose bushes at the rear of her garden. But she looked back when she saw from the corner of her eye that the stranger was about to pass the front of the house. Noticing her movement amidst the stillness of the setting the man turned toward her, nodded politely, and kept walking. Maggie smiled, and then he was gone from view. Maggie took a breath as she recovered from her mild embarrassment. Then she turned and went back into the house.

  "Hi mommy," Maggie's daughter Bitty said. Eight year-old Bitty had entered the kitchen during Maggie's momentary absence and was now foraging in the refrigerator. The light inside it illuminated her lightly freckled face.

  'Want some breakfast honey? Maggie asked.

  "Ummm, Okay" was the reply.

  "Go wash your hands. I'll fix you something."

  "Okay," Bitty responded. Maggie smiled affectionately as she watched Bitty scurry out of the kitchen.