Chapter Text
The snow was a crisp white sheet swaddling the earth. Steam rose from the hot water like a desperate breath. She balanced on the fallen log like a dancer, the rising steam clung to her hair and cloak. A long valley of bare skin set aflame his already smoking hat and she beamed at him and her smile stole his heart.
Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. C'mon down, we'll share the pool.
The steam made his bulbous nose twitch and the water seeped into his winter boots soaking his foot pads. He kicked his feet to shake the water from them and shook them again.
The bed springs complained beneath him and the sudden squeak had him bolt upright. Beads of sweat clung to his brow which he wiped on the back of his hand before reaching for his glasses. There was an open book across his chest and he carefully closed it and laid it on the bedstead.
He had left the reading lamp on last night, allowing him to see alarm clock read 4:20. Much too early to get up. What day was it anyway?
After a few moments, he remembered it was Saturday, which meant no school today so he could sleep in . . .wait, no he couldn't. Something else was happening to today, but what was it? He rubbed his face, his fingers slipping beneath his glasses to rub over his black eyes as his brain woke up.
Then he groaned. That's right. Phoney and Penelope's anniversary dinner was tonight and he had promised to help. He took another glance at the clock. He could afford to sleep for a couple more hours, but he had an itch to do some writing before heading out.
He swung his legs over the bed and sauntered from the bedroom and down the hall to his private library and office. It was a small room with a desk and tall shelf with Fone's favorite books including a few dog ear editions of Moby Dick. He went to the third shelf from the bottom and reached behind the line of books and took out a manila envelope. There was a stack of ungraded quizzes next to an old typewriter Smiley gave him for Christmas years ago. He should really be grading them, but instead, he carefully set them aside to make room for the envelope. The chair creaked as he sat down, turned on the desk lamp, opened the envelope and pulled out a thick manuscript.
There was no title page as he could never think of a fitting title nor give a name to the events that happened to him and his cousins years ago. On the first page:
Two weeks after my cousin's, Phoncible P. Bone, disastrous campaign announcement, my cousins and I found ourselves in the uncharted part of the desert with little food or water and no idea where we were. I was studying a map while my cousins were of no help: Phoney was bemoaning his lost riches and Smiley teased him about it. I could barely keep them from fighting. I was pretty certain we were in trouble until Smiley found a small map with distant mountain ridges drawn by a child's hand.
Then the cloud of locusts came and we were separated.
He flipped ahead several pages that documented his finding the Valley, meeting Ted and his brother, his first of many encounters with the two stupid rat creatures and then surviving the winter. Then he finally found the page he was looking for. The page describing his first meeting with Thorn.
The scene was the hardest to write. It brought up so many emotions and memories that he found precious and endearing yet at the same time wished he could forget. He had painstakingly typed each word to describe it in minute detail and it had undergone many, many revisions. It was a powerful meeting in his life and he had to get it down just right.
He loaded a fresh white page into the typewriter and the room was filled with the keys clicking. He spent the next hour rewriting the hot spring scene. Many times before, he had written it and was satisfied, but a new memory, a forgotten detail would be remembered and he would rewrite this part yet again. This wasn't the only bit that caused him grief with memory as there were other precious memories of her. Walking hand in hand with her at the fair, the spring they rebuilt Gran'ma Ben's house after the rat creature attack, that stormy night in the barn, and in the prison cell where they clung to each other.
His alarm clock rung from his bedroom yanking him from his thoughts. He stood up so fast the chair fell backward. He rubbed his eyes again and glanced at the clock. 7:00. He had been working non-stop for almost two hours. Fone Bone put the papers in order and tucked them back into the envelope and reverently put it away and began his morning routine.
He didn't know why he dedicated himself to a manuscript he had no intention of publishing or showing to others. For years after their return to Boneville, he had this urge to write about what had happened in the Valley. No one believed them of course. Dragons? Mystic Dream Warriors? A Lord of Locusts? It was all rubbish according to the Boneville Explorers’ Society. They laughed off their stories as illusions from the heat or tall tales to impress the fellows back home. Soon, Smiley stopped sharing the stories save for the little Bone Scout Troops and Phoney would glare whenever Fone or Smiley ever brought up anything about the Valley. Phoney never liked talking about it; he hated it and blamed it as the cause of all his woes despite the fact that he had three times tried to cheat the Valley inhabitants. Only Smiley and Bartleby was willing to reminisce with him about that year they spent in the Valley.
Fone never thought himself a writer. He enjoyed reading books, but never had the desire nor believed he had the skill to write. But one day, with a mind filled to bursting with memories of the Valley, he began writing, first by hand and then by typewriter. He only meant to write about his time with Thorn, but to remember her was to remember everything; Gran’ma Ben, the strongest woman in the world, Lucius, grizzly and loyal tavern owner, the two Stupid Rat Creatures, the Great Red Dragon, Ted, and the Hooded One. He carefully made notes and even double checked his facts with Smiley and Bartleby, and sometimes Phoney if he was in a good mood and they were alone where no one can hear them speak of the Valley.
Over the years he had written and revised the manuscript. He once offered to let Smiley read it, but his cousin refused, saying that reading too much gave him a headache, but trusted that it was good since Fone was writing it. Fone didn't bother telling Phoney about it as he would surely burn it to keep him from publishing it. Not that Fone ever had any intention of publishing it. It was just too personal, intimate, and deep for him to share with Boneville.
Fone took his morning shower and cooked a small breakfast for himself. A teacher's salary wasn't that much, but he got by with a house on the corner of Bonubus street. A fine neighborhood like any other with the wives of the street sometimes sending their children over with a pie or casserole for their children's fifth-grade teacher so he never went hungry.
As he munched his toast with jam, he mentally went over his errands for the day. First, he needed to pick up his and Smiley's suits from the cleaners and drop off Smiley’s at his home. Penelope, Phoney's wife, requested he picked up the flowers from the florist and take them to the restaurant where the party is being hosted. Then he needed to stop by the library and drop off books before they became overdue as it wouldn't set a good example for the part-time librarian aide to pay late fees. Then maybe he'll get back in time to finish grading quizzes before he needed to change clothes.
He pulled on a clean shirt and adjusted his glasses perched on his nose as he grabbed his satchel. His car was a used model with the rounded top and curved front, not like the newer flat top models that had become so popular in recent years. The kids had called it the Muffin-mobile; Mr. Fone Bone and his Muffin-mobile.
It was a short trip to the dry cleaners and the suits were neatly press and cleaned and waiting for him behind the counter. Fone was impressed with the work they managed to do with Smiley's suit. It had been mended and the mystery stained in the back was gone. The price for Smiley's suit had Fone whistling in disbelief. Phoney was footing the bill, but wouldn't it have been cheaper to buy him a new suit? No, Fone remembered, Smiley wouldn't wear a new suit because this was his favorite one. It was the one he always wore to weddings, funerals, and even to the graduations of his Bone Scouts. Once Smiley loved something he never let it go. Maybe that was something he and Fone had in common.
“Mr. Fone?”
A middle age Bone woman was standing behind him in a modest dress and a brown hat on her graying burgundy curls. It took Fone Bone a moment to remember who she was. “You're Jerry Bone's mother?”
“Yes, Mr. Fone.” The Bone woman smiled with pleasure at the quick connection. “I wanted to speak with you about the grade he received from your class.”
He didn't have time for an impromptu parent-teacher meeting, but he always made time for a student in need of help. He hung the suits over his arm and turned to the parent. “I have some time to talk about Jerry.”
They stepped over to a quiet corner from the counter. Jerry's mother took a quick glance around the lobby and whispered, “I know my boy is a smart boy, but sometimes I don't think he's . . . smart enough . . .”
Fone nodded in sympathy at her concern. “I wouldn't worry. I think the problem is he’s too smart. He's bored by the material so he needs something more challenging. I think he would do better in my advanced literature class. He has time to catch up and I could give him some extra credit work so he can get his grade higher before the end of the year.”
Jerry's mother beamed. “Bless you, Mr. Fone. Of course, Jerry will take your class.”
Fone returned her smile, “I'll have the school send you the forms next week.”
Fone Bone's teaching career started shortly after the return to Boneville. He had taken back his part-time job in the library where he was offered a position as the school librarian. The kids loved him at story time when he read from anything saved Moby Dick. He only read Moby Dick when they were being too wound. It became so effective that he was invited to read Moby Dick to the kindergartners for nap time. When the literature teacher retired early, Fone was asked by the principal to take over his class and had been there ever since.
Once Jerry's mother was assuaged, he hung up the suits in his car and headed to Smiley's home.
When they returned from the Valley, Smiley and Bartleby made their way by doing odd jobs around town from house repair to painting fences. Bartleby had a knack for handy work with his long five finger hands. He and Smiley took up residence in an old junkyard working as mechanics and towing cars for the town. Their house may have started out as a cabin in an empty field, but now towers of junk metal loomed over it and Fone Bone feared that the next time he visited, he would see the house collapsed under tons of broken cars and metal.
He parked his car a safe walking distance away from the jagged metal bits sticking out from the heaps and took Smiley's suit which he held high, careful not to catch it on any sharp metal. He tiptoed over the tattered cables and tall grass, mindful to watch for broken glass or bits of metal.
The door opened before he reached it. Bartleby filled the doorway and Fone Bone barely had time to move the suit aside before he was swept up in a big furry embrace.
“Fone Bone!” Bartleby exclaimed happily in a sibilant voice that did little to hide his friendly nature. “I'm so happy to see you!”
“Bar-le-bee!” Fone whimpered, his white face turning shades of red and then purple as the air was squeezed out of him. “Puu mei d-ooun . . .”
“Oh! Sorry, Fone Bone,” Bartleby set Fone on his feet.
Bartleby had grown to a full-size rat creature, but unlike his Valley brethren, he took to walking on his hind legs instead of crouching on all fours. He even wore a vest like Smiley's. On the back was a patch shaped like the Ace of Spades. Smiley had a similar vest with the Ace of Clubs. There were two more vests they gave to Fone and Phoney the year before: Ace of Diamonds for Phoney and Ace of Hearts for Fone. There was a large picture hanging on Smiley’s living room wall with the four of them standing with their backs to the camera showing off the vest patches last year at one of Penelope’s social parties.
Bartleby led Fone Bone inside to a cramp, but cozy room filled with miscellaneous objects he and his housemate found interesting. A cracked teapot turned into a vase for an overgrown fern, a pair of old boots slung over a wall lamp, and an old fashion radio covered in water stain rings. Smiley was sitting in a comfy patchwork chair with his feet propped on a cooler. Bartleby and Smiley never bought anything save for tools and mechanical parts for their jobs. Most of their personal belongings were things they scavenge from junkyard deposits and repaired themselves. The radio was croaking out an old song Smiley had taken a fancy to and he was singing along at the top of his lungs in his warbling voice and twanging his banjo.
His usual smile was spread across his long face with a smoldering cigar stub between his teeth. “Hiya, Fone! Pull up a chair and grab a root beer.” He indicated the cooler beneath his feet.
Fone noticed a hot water bottle perched on Smiley's right knee for an old injury from when a car Smiley was repairing fell on him. If it hadn't been for Bartleby being there to lift the car off him, the doctors had said that Smiley could have bled out or lost his leg. The injury had never fully healed and made its presence known on cold days or whenever Smiley had been on his feet too long.
Fone checked the clock. He had some time, especially for a cousin. “Yeah, I can stay, where do you want me to put your suit.”
Smiley's tossed ahead towards a couch, “Toss it over there.”
Fone grimaced, “I should hang it up. You don't want it to get wrinkled.”
“It's going to get wrinkled anyway, you know me.” Smiley flicked ashes from his cigar into an overturn combat helmet.
Smiley had a point. Fone could never figure out why, but whenever Smiley wore anything with an inclination towards formality, it wrinkled and became soiled within hours when Smiley had done nothing to make it so. By the time the reception for Phoney's wedding was over, Smiley looked as if he had been repairing greasy cars in a hailstorm. Fone gingerly laid the suit over the back of the couch and had a seat on the edge.
“I can't stay long, I gotta go pick up flowers for Penelope's party.”
“Oh, really?” Smiley's grin deepened into a knowing smile.
“Yeah, really,” Fone's brows narrowed suspiciously.
“So you don't know?”
“Know what?”
“Penelope's new friend works at the florist's.” Smiley's eyebrows waggled.
Fone moaned, “I thought she finally given up on that!”
Ever since Penelope married Phoney, she got it into her head that his cousins should marry too. Since Smiley wasn't quite a catch, working in a junkyard and being pals with a big hairy monster and seemed happy with being an eternal bachelor, she focused her efforts on Fone, playing matchmaker with her single friends. More than once she had suggested an interested friend go to the library to 'accidentally' bump into him or ask for his aid in finding a particular book. Or, like now, send him on errands to places where her prospective paramours worked. He had a firm talk with Phoney about it and Phoney claimed that he told his wife to stop, but everyone knew who truly ruled the roost in that house.
However, despite her insistent matchmaking, Fone and Smiley both really liked her. She was the mayor's daughter with a domineering personality and used to getting her way, but was a good and generous person who still liked having money and knew how to use it wisely. And she was able to do the one thing that had eluded Fone for so many years and that was the ability to put a pin in any of Phoney's schemes as soon as they appear. Phoney meeting and marrying Penelope had been the best thing that could have happened to him as Fone believed she made him happy and kept him out of trouble.
“Lindsey Bone is a sweet girl,” Smiley scratched his grizzled chin which had become persistent over the years. “And she's had her eye on you for a while.”
Fone moaned again shaking his head, “I'm—there's nothing wrong with her and I'm sure she'll make some guy happy one day, but that's not me.”
“Because you already have your heart set on someone else.”
Fone's heart skipped a beat and pain ebbed through it as it was prone to do whenever Thorn was mentioned. He swallowed the lump in his throat before he spoke, “She's not here, now is she? And—well, she's just not here.”
He startled when Bartleby held out an ice cold bottle of root beer for him. Fone accepted with a small thank you and held it between his hands not opening it. The rat creature turned to Smiley and said, “I'm going out to fix Robbie Bone's brake lines. I'll be done before we leave for the party.”
Bartleby slammed through the screen door. Smiley sighed and tilted his cap back from his forehead, “Yeah, Bartleby doesn't like to talk about the Valley. He said as far as he is concerned his life didn't start until he came to Boneville.”
Fone grimaced in memory of how hard he had tried to convince Smiley that the rat creature cub they had found needed to be back with his own kind, not knowing of the abuse the cub had endured under the rule of Kingdok, the rat creatures’ king, who had used cruel methods to weed out the weak in his rat creature army. Fone didn't know the specifics of what was done to Bartleby, but Smiley once said that the thick fur covered the scars.
Smiley stubbed his cigar out in a combat helmet ashtray which was in bad need of being emptied and lit up a fresh one with a matchstick he always kept on his person. “Don't worry about it. Bartleby is happy, I'm happy, and even Phoney found his happiness . . .”
Fone noticed the pregnant drift at the end of his sentence. He furrowed his brows, “I'm happy too, Smiley.”
Smiley puffed on the cigar, the end flaring up in an orange hue and then exhaled a long stream of smoke. “Are ya?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but falter as he considered Smiley's question. Was he happy? He wasn't unhappy or sad. He was pretty satisfied with life as it was. He had a job he liked and the other Bones respected him. Smiley was doing well on his own and Phoney wasn't getting into trouble anymore. He was in good health save for his eyesight which had become myopic from too much reading. So why couldn't he tell Smiley that he was happy?
Smiley crooked his cigar around to the corner of his mouth and leaned back. “How long has it been since we came back from the Valley?”
Fone scratched the back of his head, “I don't know. 16, maybe 17 years? It's been a long time . . .”
“The Valley was something else, wasn't it? Remember all the stuff we did there?”
“How could I forget, Smiley?” Fone remembered the dragons, the war between Atheia and the alliance of Pawa and rat creatures, fighting for their lives as the City of Atheia was under siege and Thorn the Princess Veni-Yan-Cari.
“Yeah, sorry, dumb question. You most of all wouldn't forget anything that happened there.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Smiley took another drag on his cigar and flicked loose any ash from the end. “That place changed each of us. I think somehow, after all the failed schemes in the Valley, Phoney got it into his head that the best way to make money is to do it honestly. And no matter how much he hates the place, it was what made him the richest Bone in Boneville again in an honest way.”
When they returned to Boneville, they still had a chest full of stuffed bread thingies of which Phoney abhorred. Yet, an idea clicked in his head. He took to the kitchen of the tiny studio apartment the three of them shared after their return and began attempting to make his own stuff bread thingies. After days of failed baking experiments, ruined cooking pans, and dough and batter being sprayed all over the floor, Phoney came out with his own version of the stuffed bread thingies. And they were delicious. There were stuff bread thingies filled with meat, cheese, peanut butter, jam and, as a dessert, chocolate, cream, and candied nuts. They were called Phoney Bites.
It hit off with such popularity that Phoney could barely keep up with demand and had employed Fone and Smiley to help out until he was able to hire his own crew. He worked in his own food stand at the market and then moved the business to several vendors around Boneville and finally into a restaurant which became a chain. Then with the money he earned, he invested it and bought several small businesses and turned them into profitable enterprises. Before the end of two years, Phoney was back to being the richest Bone in Boneville and found his soul mate in Penelope Bone.
The courtship between Penelope and Phoney had been a whirlwind romance. Phoney had been trying to acquire water rights to a farming development but was blocked at each turn by Penelope who worked for the city with her father. At first, Phoney blustered and cursed about the raven hair Bonette that kept trying to strangle him with red tape. And just as Fone began to fear that Phoney was going to resort to murder, he bursts into the apartment with hearts floating around his head and lipstick stains all over his face and announced he was engaged to Penelope Bone. The whole run around with legalities was just their way of courtship it seemed.
It was surprising as, before the Valley, Phoney seemed happy to be known as the richest and eligible bachelor of Boneville. It was strange to Fone that he would be in such a hurry to marry, even though it did work out great in the end. They were both happily married with a son, Benjamin 'Ben' Bone. Phoney had been desperate to establish roots in Boneville through business, marriage, and parenthood as if there was a deep fear of being run out of Boneville again. Before he had just been an orphan who made it big with no known roots save for his cousins, now he was a citizen with his past sins almost forgotten, though there are some who whisper about his failed money-making schemes from his youth.
“Phoney has done very well for himself,” Fone said thoughtfully.
“Me, I found my something in the Valley and I was able to bring it home with me.” Smiley indicated the door where Bartleby had departed.
Things hadn't been easy for Bartleby when he first came to Boneville, even with the Bone Cousins in his corner. The other Bones were terrified of the rat creature believing him to be a monster. The zoo even sent a representative to negotiate a price for what he called an exotic beast. Smiley would have clobbered the Bone if Bartleby hadn't have held him back. After that, Smiley was determined to prove that Bartleby could be a respectable citizen of Boneville and went through great pains to prove it. He sought out jobs that would accept a Bartleby. Many doors were shut in their faces and only those in great need for yard work or washed cars would hire them and paid them in wages that were barely worth the job. But Smiley's determination paid off as the Bones became accustomed to Bartleby's presence and drew fewer stares and curiosity where he went. Soon the grocers let him shop in their stores and the cops stopped chasing him out public parks anymore.
Before the Valley, Smiley was content to go through life with a smile and a joke, but Bartleby gave him a purpose, someone to protect and be responsible for. Smiley, who was had been satisfied to live like a bum while occasionally getting financial help from Phoney, now not only runs his own garage but has a home he maintains on his own.
“But you,” Smiley pointed, his dark eyes focus intently on Fone, “You left your something back in the Valley and you've been hollow without her ever since.”
Fone blinked, then narrow his eyes, “That's in the past.”
“It is?” Smiley scratched beneath his cap as if trying to work out a puzzle. “Because it sure seems to be affecting you now. You don't date nor give any Bonettes so much as a second glance and you've been writing an awful lot about what happened in the Valley.” Then he fixed his knowing gaze that was out of place on Smiley's face. “Face it, Fone, you were happiest when you were in the Valley with Thorn. If it wasn't for Phoney and me, you'd still be back there with her.”
Fone's hands shook so hard he pressed them against his knees. “No, I wouldn't be with her, Smiley. She's . . .”
“She loved you, Fone.”
“Not in the way I loved her.” Fone hanged his head. “Don't you get it? No, you wouldn't get it. You have never been in love and Phoney was able to marry the love of his life. The one person I will only love in this life and the next will never love me back. Sure, I could have stayed in the Valley and be near her, but I would never be with her. I’d watch her marry some prince or king and have kids and just be there in her life, but never be a part of it. When I left the Valley, I wasn't doing it for you guys, I was doing it for me, because I could use family and distance as a reason for us not being together rather than the face the truth that she would never love me back.”