Saturday Morning...

Posted on Wed Sep 9th, 2026 @ 8:08am by Wanderer Brielle Anders

2,239 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Wandering About
Location: Milltown – Southern Wisconsin
Timeline: August 9, 2010

By eight o'clock, Main Street was already alive. Brielle considered taking the Subaru, which had barely moved from its spot beside the machinery shed since they'd arrived, but one glance at her shopping list settled the matter. Feed, fencing staples and whatever else she inevitably came home with would be easier in the pickup. Pickup trucks lined both sides of the road, some clean enough to suggest their owners had made an effort before coming into town, others still carrying a week's worth of dust and dried mud. Farmers stood outside the feed store with takeaway coffee in hand, comparing rainfall totals, crop conditions and machinery problems as though each were matters of national importance. Children raced bicycles along the footpath while parents called half-hearted warnings after them. Somewhere farther down the street, somebody was playing old country music loudly enough that half the town could hear it. Nobody seemed particularly bothered. rielle slowed the pickup as they entered town. She was beginning to recognise people now. Not necessarily their names. Not yet.
But faces. The man who always seemed to be outside the feed store. The woman with the flower boxes beneath every window. The elderly couple who sat at the same table outside the diner whenever the weather was good. It wasn't much of a town. One main street. A diner. A hardware store. Feed and grain. The sheriff's office. tiny library. Church. Post office. A petrol station farther along the road. Everything a farming community needed. Nothing it didn't. And Brielle was discovering that she liked that. After Utah, anonymity had initially felt like safety.
Now, slowly, she was beginning to discover there was another kind of safety in being known for ordinary things. The woman with the goats. The new neighbour. Sebastian and Miranda's mother. Brielle. Nothing more complicated than that.

She pulled into a parking space beside the hardware store and switched off the engine. Sebastian had his seatbelt undone before she'd even opened her own door. He scrambled out.
"Slow down!" Brielle called, laughing.

"I'm only going to the tractors!" A collection of small garden tractors and second-hand farm equipment stood beside the hardware store. Sebastian was already moving towards them. "You still need permission."

He stopped immediately. Turned. "Can I go look at the tractors?"

Brielle raised an eyebrow. "Where I can see you."

His face brightened "Okay!"

She smiled. "Now you can."

He was gone. Miranda, meanwhile, had already appeared beside Brielle and slipped her small hand into hers. "Can we go to the library?"

"After we've finished shopping."

"And the ice cream?"

Brielle looked down at her. "If you're good."

Miranda nodded with extraordinary seriousness. "I'll be the best."

"That's a pretty big promise."

"I can do it."

Brielle laughed. "Come on, then." The bell above the hardware store door jingled as they stepped inside. The smell hit Brielle immediately. Timber. Machine oil. Fresh paint. Metal. Somewhere beneath all of it lingered the dusty, slightly earthy smell of feed sacks and work boots. Shelves stretched along the walls carrying everything from nails and fencing staples to hand tools, plumbing fittings, rope, work gloves and things Brielle couldn't immediately identify. Sebastian abandoned the tractors outside the moment he saw the tool section.

Behind the counter stood a broad-shouldered man in his sixties arranging small boxes of nails. He looked up. "Morning!"

"Morning."

His gaze settled on Brielle. "You must be Brielle."

She stopped. "I am."

The man smiled and wiped his hands on a rag before offering one across the counter. "I'm Tom Alvarez."

Brielle shook it. "Nice to meet you."

"Welcome to the valley." There it was again. That easy acceptance. She glanced around.

"Seems everyone already knows who I am."

Tom laughed. "Small town."

"Apparently."

"Don't worry. Give it another month and you'll know everybody else's business too."

Brielle smiled despite herself. "I'm not sure I want to."

"Nobody does. Doesn't stop it happening." Tom nodded towards Sebastian, who was already examining a display of hand tools with intense concentration. "Walter told us about your young helper."

Sebastian heard his name. He straightened proudly. "I split firewood now."

Tom raised his eyebrows. "Do you?"

Sebastian nodded. "By myself."

"With supervision," Brielle added.

Sebastian considered that distinction unnecessary.

Tom came around the counter and crouched beside him. "Well, then. Every good woodsman needs one of these." He reached beneath the counter and produced a sturdy tape measure.
Sebastian stared at it. "It's got a lock on it," Tom explained, demonstrating the little switch. The metal tape remained extended. Sebastian's eyes widened.

He reached towards it— Then stopped. He looked at Brielle. "Can I?" That small gesture caught at her. He could have simply taken it. Most children probably would have. But Sebastian waited. Not because he looked frightened. Because he knew it was polite to ask. There was a difference.

Brielle nodded. "Say thank you."

Sebastian accepted it carefully. "Thank you!"

Tom grinned. "You're welcome. Just don't measure your sister."

"I won't."

Miranda, who had been listening from beside Brielle, folded her arms. "He probably will."

"I will not."

"You will."

"Won't."

Brielle sighed theatrically. "Please don't make me regret bringing both of you into town."

Tom laughed. "I like them."

"You haven't known them long enough."

An hour later they crossed Main Street towards the library. It occupied what had once been an old brick schoolhouse. Tall windows allowed sunlight to pour into the building, illuminating rows of shelves and catching tiny particles of dust drifting lazily through the air. The moment they stepped inside, Miranda became silent. Not because she'd been told to. Because she was looking at the books. Rows and rows of them. Picture books. Stories. Reference books. Entire shelves waiting to be explored. The librarian looked up from behind her desk. "Well, hello there."

Miranda was already drifting towards the children's section. The woman smiled. "You must be our newest readers."

"We like books," Brielle said.

The librarian laughed softly. "I can see that."

Sebastian had already pulled one from a shelf and was examining the cover. The librarian reached beneath the desk and handed him a library card application. "Here you are."

Sebastian looked at it. Then at Brielle. "Can I have one?"

"If you're responsible with the books."

"I will be."

The librarian smiled. "No charge."

Sebastian frowned. "I thought library cards cost money."

"They do." She leaned slightly closer.

"But every child deserves one."

Brielle looked at her. Another tiny act of kindness. Perhaps nobody else would even have noticed it. Brielle did. She noticed all of them. Because she'd lived too long in a world where kindness had been rationed. "Thank you," she said quietly.

The librarian seemed almost surprised by the seriousness of it. "You're very welcome."

Miranda appeared moments later carrying a stack of books nearly high enough to obscure her face.
Brielle stared. "You're not taking all of those."

A pair of eyes appeared over the top. "Why?"

"Because I don't want to carry all of those."

"I can carry them."

"You're already struggling."

"I'm not."

One of the books slid sideways. Brielle caught it. Miranda frowned. "That one jumped."

The librarian turned away, suspiciously quickly. Brielle was fairly certain she was laughing. By midday they were sitting outside the diner beneath the broad shade of an old maple tree.
The morning heat had settled over Milltown, but beneath the tree it was comfortable. Miranda had three new library books stacked beside her chair. Sebastian's tape measure had already been used to determine the width of the table, the length of the bench and, despite his promise, approximately half the length of Miranda's arm before she'd objected. The diner door opened and closed constantly. The waitress seemed to know nearly everyone by name. Farmers wandered in and out carrying coffee mugs instead of menus. People stopped at neighbouring tables to talk. Nobody appeared to be in much of a hurry. Brielle was beginning to understand that Saturday mornings in Milltown weren't really about shopping. They were about checking on people. Who needed help. Who had a tractor down. Whose cow had calved. Whose roof was leaking. Who hadn't been seen in a few days. A community maintaining itself through a hundred tiny conversations. Across the street, Walter Miller stood beside a sheriff's patrol truck talking to a man in uniform. Walter noticed Brielle first and lifted a hand.

The sheriff followed his gaze. He said something to Walter before crossing the road. Brielle watched him approach. Thirty-four, she guessed. Maybe a little weathered around the edges from years of rural policing, but not old. He carried himself with the easy confidence of someone accustomed to being recognised without needing to make a show of his authority.
"Afternoon."

Brielle stood automatically. She didn't even think about it. One moment she was sitting. The next she was on her feet. Old habits. Authority meant standing. Waiting. Showing respect before someone demanded it. The sheriff noticed. His expression changed slightly. Not suspicion. Something gentler. "Relax," he said with an easy smile. "I just wanted to introduce myself." He removed his hat. "Ben Mercer."

Brielle glanced at the patrol vehicle. "The sheriff?"

"The very one." There was a trace of humour in his voice. Brielle found herself relaxing slightly.

"I'm Brielle Anders."

"I know."

She gave him a look. Ben laughed. "Small town."

"So everyone keeps telling me."

"It'll stop being strange eventually."

"I'm not convinced."

"Give it time."

His gaze moved briefly towards Sebastian and Miranda. "And these must be the kids Walter won't stop talking about."

Sebastian looked up. "He let me drive his tractor."

"Did he now?"

"Only with Walter sitting beside him," Brielle added.

Ben nodded solemnly. "Important distinction."

Sebastian apparently approved of the sheriff. Ben looked back at Brielle. "Everything treating you alright?" The question was casual. But it didn't feel meaningless.

"So far."

"Good."

He replaced his hat. "If you ever need anything..." He shrugged slightly. "...that's what I'm here for."

Brielle studied him. There wasn't an ounce of suspicion in his voice. No demand to know where she'd come from. No questions about her husband. No attempt to discover why a twenty-five-year-old woman had arrived in southern Wisconsin with two children and bought herself a farm. Only genuine concern. She still wasn't used to that. "Thank you."

Ben nodded. "Enjoy your lunch." He started back towards Walter. Then paused. "And don't let Tom give Sebastian anything with a motor."

Brielle glanced at her son. "That sounds like experience talking."

"It absolutely is."

Sebastian looked disappointed. Ben grinned and continued across the street. They had almost finished lunch when the television mounted above the diner's counter changed.
The baseball game disappeared. A news presenter replaced it. Nobody paid much attention at first. "...health officials continue investigating isolated incidents in several major cities..."
Brielle glanced towards the screen. There were images of emergency vehicles. A hospital entrance. People standing behind police barriers. The footage changed too quickly for her to make much sense of it. "...officials stress there is currently no evidence of widespread public risk..." The waitress carrying a coffee pot sighed dramatically. "They interrupt everything these days." One of the farmers at the counter barely looked up. "Probably another flu." Someone else muttered something about election-year panic.

Then the baseball returned. Conversation resumed. Coffee was poured. Someone laughed near the counter. Outside, a tractor rumbled slowly along Main Street. Nobody gave the interruption another thought. Not Walter. Not Ben Mercer. Not Tom Alvarez. Not the waitress. Not even Brielle. Why would they? Whatever was happening belonged to cities hundreds of miles away. Milltown had crops to tend. Animals to feed. Fences to repair. Children who wanted ice cream. Real things. Immediate things. So Brielle gathered Miranda's books, reminded Sebastian that the tape measure did not need to be clipped permanently to his belt, and eventually shepherded both children back towards the pickup.

The drive home was filled with chatter. Miranda proudly carried her three library books on her lap, occasionally opening one before deciding the road was too bumpy to read properly.
Sebastian refused to let go of his tape measure. Toby slept beneath the back seat, exhausted from the tremendous responsibility of having accompanied the family into town. The late-afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the fields as Brielle turned onto the gravel road leading home. She glanced once in the rear-view mirror. Milltown was already disappearing behind them. A little town in southern Wisconsin. One main street. A diner. A hardware store. A library. A sheriff named Ben Mercer who seemed more interested in making sure she was settling in than asking where she'd come from. People who knew one another. People who helped one another. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't wealthy. It wasn't remarkable. But somehow...
It already felt like the sort of place that would always be there. Brielle smiled to herself. Some places, she thought, never really change. Behind them, too far away now for anyone in the pickup to hear it, the diner's television interrupted the baseball again.

OOC Game Master Note: The posts by Brielle are to give players an idea on what was happening elsewhere. There will be no interaction between Brielle's group and the main group as they are in different areas of the state. HOWEVER. There are somethings in these posts that may give hints to where the Wisconsin group's storyline is going.

 

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