Dry Season: a short story

Dry Season

Miriam stood up from her work and stretched her back.  She shook the dirt from her hands and scrunched her hair back into a ponytail.  A sheet of bright water churned around among the carrots in the pail.  She peered into the distance for the dust trail that signalled an approaching truck.  The clouds over the hills carried promises of rain. Promises are broken all the time.

Jake hadn’t arrived yet.  The road had needed fixing all year but he never seemed to have the time.  He worked fixing the locomotives in the railway yard in town.  When it was dry, his truck stirred up the clouds so much you thought it was a dust storm.  Haboob, her father called it. 

Cathy and Sam were outside when their father drove into the yard.  He parked and went into the house.  The screen door banged.  Dust and loud voices flew among the flies.  Sam was spinning his top.  Cathy carried on weeding the beds. Ten minutes later, the patio door banged again.  Only flies this time.  Their father got into the pick-up and drove off.  They stared after him; the truck grated on the track and vanished behind a dust cloud. 

Miriam came out into the yard and called the children in.  They had to wash up and get ready for supper.   Cathy fetched a pail of water.

‘Where’s Daddy gone?‘ asked Sam.  ‘Did he eat yet’?

Cathy looked hard at her brother.  He poked his tongue out at her.

‘That’s enough!’ said their mother. 

‘When’ll he be back?’ Sam persisted.

‘He’s working. He’s taken his supper with him.  He’s on the night shift.’

‘But he just did the day shift.’

After supper, Cathy did her homework and then read her brother a story.   Miriam put them to bed and then pulled down the mending basket from the shelf.   She sat patching their work clothes as the clouds reformed themselves in the distance.  A patchwork. 

Later, she went in and bolted the screen door.  Jake used the back door at night. 

2 am the phone rang. Eleanor from the exchange was on the line. 

Before Eleanor even spoke, Miriam knew.  

‘It’s the hospital,’ Eleanor said and connected the call.  

Miriam listened and nodded.  ‘Yes’, she said, ‘I’ll come.’

Eleanor came back on the line.  ‘They’re sending Nelson over with the car to pick you up’, said Eleanor.  ‘He’ll pick up Rosie on his way, so the kids don’t have to be on their own’. 

The approaching headlights lit up her face and projected her long shadow against the family home.  They drove away in the railway company’s car. Miriam watched through raindrops.  They drew lines on the car and punctuated the dust.