Toby's new home.rtf

7/30/2019 Toby's new home.rtf

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Toby's New Home

by Sue Latham

The tour guide stopped in front of a portrait of a dashing,

dark-haired young man dressed in a crimson uniform lavishly

decorated with gold braid. "Now, this is the fifth earl, direct

ancestor of the present earl. He was a soldier under the

command of the Major-General Ponsonby in Wellington'sarmy and disappeared in 1815, at the Battle of Waterloo."

"Disappeared?" asked a woman in the crowd.

"Yes. According to family legend, he was last seen

fighting valiantly in hand-to-hand combat with one of

Napoleon's soldiers, but his body was never found. Now if

you will kindly follow me..."

Toby Wellesley struggled to open his eyes. The French

soldier was dead. Toby noted without emotion that he

seemed hardly more than a child. Child or not, this soldier of

Napoleon had pierced his ribs and Toby was bleeding. It was

not a deep wound, but Toby was dizzy from loss of blood.

From the sound of it, he thought the battle was moving away

from him. But the slightest movement made his head spin

sickeningly, and hidden as he was in a gully behind a small

stand of trees, he couldnt see to be sure. In spite of the


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scarlet uniform, it was unlikely anyone would spot him lying

here and even if they did, Toby doubted someone would find

him in time to help. His only regret was that he would never

meet his unborn child. His thoughts drifted back to the

joyous news in the lettercould it possibly be only yesterday

that hed received it?

A brilliant light suddenly lit up the small clearing where

Toby lay. So this is what death is like, he thought. Then he

slipped into oblivion.

Toby awoke, rather surprised to find himself alive. His

head was pounding and the the room swam around him

nauseatingly before he managed to focus his eyes.

The bed he was on was comfortable but narrow, and the

walls, ceiling and bedcovers were stark white. Directly in

front of him, a white light seemed to glow from what looked

like an open doorway. Could it be I actually made it to

Heaven? he wondered. Folded neatly on one corner of the

bed he noticed a suit of clothes. At first he thought it was his

lovely scarlet uniform, of which he had been so proud--

perhaps cleaned and mended. But on closer inspection, he

could see that it wasnt his uniform at all, just a costume like

one hed seen once on the stage.

Toby's ribs were sore. A new scar ran along his rib cage.

For a few minutes, he could hear nothing but the sound of

his own breathing. Then the silence was broken by a


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sorrowful cry, "Help me!" Toby climbed to his feet as fast as

the pain in his ribs would allow. He steadied himself and

lurched the few steps toward the door. But when he neared

the door a powerful force hurled him backwards. As he lay on

the floor, a stabbing pain shot through his ribs and he sank

into oblivion again.

When he awoke, he was still on the floor. He had no

sense of how long hed been unconscious. Toby staggered

slowly to his feet and approached the doorway, cautiously

this time. Some kind of light almost seemed to be pulsatingfrom it. He tested itcarefully this time. He got another

nasty shock left his hand throbbing.

He leaned against the cool wall and listened for a few

minutes, but heard only an occasional quiet sob. Slowly, he

crept back to the bed and sat down. Just this little bit of

movement left him out of breath, but at least the white-hot

pain in his midsection was starting to subside. Carefully

curling up on the bed, he fell asleep almost immediately. He

was dreaming about the dead French soldier when voices

woke him.

"I assure you, madame, we offer only the best here,"

said a man's voice soothingly.

"Well," answered a woman's voice "the last one we got

for our Carlyle from here only lasted a week. I think there

was something wrong with him."

"Now dear, let's not be too hasty." A different man's


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voice.

"Well, now. Our warranty does require that certain basic

care be provided..." The first man's voice again.

"Of course Carlyle took care of him. He

seemed...traumatized," said the woman, sounding defensive.

"I think he had some kind of problem before we got him."

The second man cleared his throat and spoke quietly, as

if about to share a secret. "It's the whole combat experience.

You know, maybe it isn't very...healthy for them," he

whispered, sounding almost apologetic."And how old is your fine young man?" asked the first

voice.

"Oh, he'll be nine in just a few days. This is his birthday

present." said the woman with maternal pride.

"Ah well, then. Perhaps the last one would have been

more suitable for an older child," said the first man cheerily.

"Let me show you one more appropriate."

Toby could hear footsteps coming toward him. He was

beginning to suspect that he wasn't in heaven after all.

"Here we have one that hasn't seem quite so much...

um, 'action'," said the first man with a small chuckle. An

orchestra leader. World War II. We got him just as his plane

was about to go down in bad weather over the English

Channel.

"Dad!" A child's voice this time.

"What is it, Carlyle?" said the second man. "Don't


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interrupt people when they're talking."

"Dad, I want a real soldier," whined Carlyle.

"Hush, son!"

"Oh, that's perfectly alright," said the first man,

chuckling. "Gotta admire a kid who knows just what he

wants, eh Carlyle? Now here's one that might be just what

you're looking for. He's only just come in. Definitely a real

soldier. An officer! Obviously from a good home, well fed. I

can guarantee he's been well taken care of. This one won't

last long.""Oh yes! Dad, can I see him, please?"

"Well, it can't hurt to look. Lead the way," said Carlyle's

dad.

"If you'll just step right this way."

The light in the doorway abruptly vanished. The

footsteps stopped just outside.

"Well, yes," said the father's voice. "He seems to be in

fine condition."

"There was a small injury to the ribs, nothing serious. But

that's all been taken care of."

Cautiously, Toby walked to the door. He tried to look out

the doorway, but saw only darkness. He placed his hand in

the doorway--the force that had thrown him backward earlier

was gone. He could feel only intense cold.

The woman's voice spoke again. "He seems to be a fine

specimen. What do you think, dear?"


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"Oh yes," said Carlyle. "I like him. Can I have him, please

Mom? Dad?"

Cold fear enveloped Toby, then panic. Furiously, he

dashed toward the doorway but suddenly found himself

completely paralyzed. Totally without control of his body, he

toppled over and landed with a thud on the floor.

"He's a real live one, isn't he?" chuckled the first man.

"Why, yes. Yes, he is," agreed Carlyle's father. "Son, you

think you can handle this one?"

"Oh yes, Dad. He's just what I wanted. Can we take himtoday? Please!"

Had he been able to, Toby would have screamed in

terror, behavior totally unbefitting his rank as an officer. But

no sound escaped his throat. Numb with fear, he sat on the

edge of the bed and waited.

Toby paced his small room nervously. The new clothes

hung loosely on him now. As a soldier, he was used to having

to go sometimes days without food, but a man could only

live without water for so long. The thirst was driving him

mad. At first, Carlyle had brought him food and water every

day. But after a few weeks, Carlyle started to miss a day

occasionally. Toby soon learned to ration his food and water,

but Carlyle hadnt been herehow long had it been? A week,

perhaps?

He peered through the bars in the door. Relief swept over


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himCarlyle coming toward him with a bowl. Water sloshed

from it onto Carlyle's shoes. Thank God, he thought. But then

he heard the sounds of running feet from another direction.

A kid shouted Hey Carlyle! Come see what we found. It's

really cool!"

"What is it?" Carlyle stopped, forgetting all about Toby. "I

gotta get my bike!" He set the dish down in front of the door

without so much as a glance at Toby.

"Carlyle, Carlyle--wait!" yelled Toby, but Carlyle had

already jumped on his bicycle and was off. Help! he yelled.Please, somebody help me! But he realized he was just

wasting the last of his strength. He might not see Carlyle

again for days and the boys parents seldom ventured out of

the house.

Not ready to give up hope, Toby stretched out on the

floor and stuck his arm through the bars. The water was just

beyond his reach. Once, tantalizingly, he imagined his

fingertips brushed against the bowl. But finally, exhausted

and weak from hunger and thirst, he lay on the floor and

sobbed. As darkness descended, Toby could see lights go on

in the house, and shadows behind the curtain as Carlyles

family sat down to dinner. He curled into a fetal position and

finally fell asleep, dreaming about food, water and freedom.

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Toby's new home.rtf