Brother Mine
2nd in The Forgotten Shelters Series
Published by Dee Phillips at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Dee Phillips
Smashwords Edition, License Notes.
This short story is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This story may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this story with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this story and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Brother Mine
America in the 1950’s was a time of great anxiety. There was the constant threat of the hydrogen bomb exploding and a sense of unease became a real part of everyday life. With the possibility of a nuclear war, as the Cold War between the U.S. and the Soviet Union escalated, many Americans considered their options of survival. Ordinary Americans, often hiding their actions from their neighbors, created bomb shelters in their backyards in order to survive what seemed at the time an inevitable nuclear attack. They also lived in fear that if an attack did occur, they would be invaded by friends and neighbors seeking shelter when the ‘big one’ dropped. So they built their shelters in the dead of night so neighbors wouldn't see, secret places that held the hope of a future in a ravaged world. But, the bombs never fell.
Now, many years later, we can all wonder what really happened to all those backyard bomb shelters that frightened families built? Did they all become wine cellars, or fruit cellars, or have they just quietly filled up with water? Have they really been forgotten?
This is the story of just one of the possibilities…
It was dry and dusty in the small garden where Greta was working. The hot summer sun burned the back of her neck as she bent over the wilted plants. Her back ached and she was thirsty, but she knew if she stopped for a rest there would be hell to pay. She had only been working for about an hour, and that was not long enough to make a difference. The small vegetables needed care and she often didn’t have time to attend to it. And then there was the fuss her brother would make if she stopped.
Greta could just hear Danny now, “You lazy son-of-a-bitch! Can’t even stand a little heat. What a good for nothing piece of shit you are!” She cringed just thinking about it. She hated when he talked to her like that, as if she didn’t feel bad enough about herself already without him shouting at her like that. No, she had to hold out for at least two hours to avoid the tongue-lashing. Maybe then he would be satisfied. Probably not, but maybe.
Greta’s little hoe worked back and forth between the plants, breaking up the clods of dry dirt. It was not a very successful vegetable garden. The soil here was not very good. It was dry and not very fertile despite all her efforts. But she tried, and it was at least one way that she could extend their meager food supply. Of course Danny thought she was wasting her time, but he was always negative about anything she did.
She hated having to live with her brother, but there was nowhere else for her to go. When their father had died two years ago, he had left the property to her brother with no provisions for Greta. Danny let her know every day that she was living on his mercy. It was hard being dependent on someone so hateful. But what else was she to do? There were no jobs left in town ever since the mine closed down. Most folks had moved away to the big cities. She had no other relatives and Danny had seen to it that she had no friends either. He had run them off one by one with his wicked remarks and sharp words. At first, Greta tried to remain friends with some of her old school chums, but most of them had moved away to pursue better opportunities. She did write to Becky once in a while, but that correspondence was sketchy at best. Becky was married now with a baby and it seemed as if she too did not have time for Greta anymore. Greta’s other best chum in high school had been a run-away, or so it had been presumed at the time when she went missing. After Vera’s disappearance, Greta was left with no-one in the area to talk to at all or to share her problems with.
No, for now at least, she was stuck here. She dreamed, though, of one day getting together enough money for a start somewhere else. She had always wanted to move to a bigger city and pursue her interest in art. She knew from what her teachers at school had said that she was quite good. Danny wouldn’t let her buy paper and pencils so she couldn’t really practice her sketching, but it was something she dreamed about. Always something at the back of her mind—her way out.
Greta’s hoe struck a rock and the clang brought her daydreams back to reality. She really must get to watering these pitiful little plantings if they were to survive at all. She would work at her hoeing until the end of this row, she decided, and then she would take a break to get a drink from the well while she filled her buckets.
This hot summer had almost made the well run dry. The water from it tasty gritty, but it was the closest thing they had. There was a small stream about a half a mile away, but that way was a long distance to carry heavy buckets of water. She had never been big or strong like her brother, but she knew she certainly pulled her weight around the homestead. In fact, she felt she did more than her share. Danny always seemed to be fooling around in the shed. Of course, he did do some odd jobs that just kept the place running but Greta felt that he really could do a lot more to improve the place.
She finished her row and stood up with her hands on her hips stretching her back. It felt good to wiggle the tense muscles away as she twisted this way and that. Then she carried her hoe back to the well with her. If she left it in the garden, Danny would be sure to comment on her not finishing the task. But she had done most of the hoeing, and it really was too hot to work long in this heat.
The water from the well was warm but she drank thirstily from it anyways. Then she filled the large wooden bucket that was always kept on a post beside the well. The water looked muddy as it ran into the pail and she worried that soon the well would really be dry if it didn’t rain soon. She looked skywards, but there were no clouds visible at all. The sky was bright blue and shimmering with the heat. Nope, no chance of rain today.
Greta carried the filled bucket back to the garden, the water sloshing about her feet. It was heavy and her back was sore from bending over her hoe. She glanced at the shed her brother was working in. At least he said he was working, What he actually did in there was a mystery to her. She was not allowed to go in there, not really allowed to go near it actually. From the severe tough lashings she had received in the past, she always kept her distance. But she couldn’t help wondering. That shed certainly kept her brother busy. Every once in a blue moon he arrived with some new metal contraption that he had ‘invented’, so he said. He submitted his small inventions to the local stores for sale and they brought in a small amount of cash to supplement their income, but nothing of real significance. Those inventions, she felt, couldn’t possibly take up all the time he spent in the shed. But Danny did little else on the farm. It was up to her to tend the garden, look after the few farm animals they had and keep up with the housework and cooking. She felt she was little more than a slave and she resented it terribly. It did her little good to be resentful, however. She was stuck here with her spiteful brother, at least for now.
After several trips with her heavy water bucket Greta had had enough. She just couldn’t tote anymore of the heavy pails. She had done all she could for one day. The sun was barely out of its zenith as she wearily walked back to the house. She would spend the rest of her day in the cooler sanctuary of the house. Although they didn’t have air conditioning, the covered windows shut out the sun’s light and heat. She could spend her time dusting, a chore she didn’t particularly like, but one that required little energy. Then it would be time to get Danny’s supper ready. Lately, he had taken to having his supper earlier and earlier. Then he went back out to his shed to ‘work’, he said, under the dim glow of the light bulb installed for his own purposes. It had cost more money than she would have paid to have the electricity run out to the shed, but who was she to say how Danny spent his money? Besides, it was worth it to her to have Danny spend all of his time out there. Then she didn’t have to deal with him and his hurtful comments.
Supper that night was easy to prepare, cold fried chicken and a potato salad she had made yesterday. It was leftovers to be sure, and Danny would complain, but it was just too hot to cook. Greta sighed. Nothing she ever did was right anyways. She didn’t know why she tried so hard.
Promptly at five o’clock Danny came in. His shoulders drooped with the heat, but his eyes were bright. He looked excited about something. Greta guessed he had gotten another one of his inventions to work.
Danny washed his hands at the kitchen sink and sat down at the small table in the corner of the room, almost hidden in shadow. The kitchen was a usually a bright room, painted a sunny yellow with bright white cabinets, but with the curtains drawn shut against the heat it was a slightly dim. The cold supper was already laid out on the table. Greta took the other chair opposite him. They were silent for several minutes while Danny stacked his plate with food. For once he didn’t comment on the leftover supper. He barely appeared to notice what was on the table. It was a relief to Greta. She was expecting harsh words as was typical when he confronted her about her daily tasks. Today he said nothing.
Greta didn’t want to rock the boat but she felt she should at least try to make conversation. After all, her brother was the only person she talked to all day, even if the comments were usually negative. Greta was typically a sociable person and liked company. She liked to talk to people and had been happy at school with her friends. Of course, where Danny was concerned he usually did most of the talking and it was usually berating her. But he seemed in a good mood today so she thought a little light conversation would be O.K.
“Hot today, isn’t it?” she started. Weather was usually a safe topic.
Danny glanced up at her from his plate as if he just realized she was there.
“Too damn hot. I suppose that’s why you didn’t cook. Why we constantly have to have leftovers is beyond me. Can’t you make anything else?”
Greta bit her lip. She should have known better. She couldn’t say anything to Danny that would be right. No matter what she did or said, he would always find some fault. Greta knew that her self-image suffered a lot because of him. How could you look at yourself in a good light when someone was always finding fault with you? Naturally you became self-conscious about everything you did.
Greta tried a different subject.
“Was there anything interesting in the mail today?”
Danny looked at her again, scowling. He obviously didn’t want to talk to her. He obviously didn’t want her there at all. Why he kept her with him Greta never could understand. He appeared to loathe her. Why didn’t he just let her go her own way? She eventually would, she thought, if she ever got up enough self-confidence and gumption. But truth be told, she was afraid of her brother. He had a mean streak in him that she knew from childhood. He had often beaten her up when she young for no apparent reason (and her parents had turned a blind eye to it). If she ever went up against him now, there would be hell to pay.
“As a matter of fact, you got a letter.” He said. He drew a crumpled letter from his shirt pocket and handed it to her.
Greta was shocked. She hardly ever got mail. Even then, it was a surprise that Danny would be good enough to give it to her. She suspected that he screened everything she ever got. And she wasn’t mistaken this time. The letter had clearly been opened, read and stuffed back into the envelope. She didn’t care too much though. She really didn’t have any secrets. Danny controlled everything in her life.