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Dottie Bossman is a writer living in Bellevue, Nebraska. In the past, she has written about education and disability studies, topics she still cares about, but her current work is in memoir and short fiction. She is also working on an MFA in creative nonfiction at Augsburg University in Minneapolis.

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The Wood Burning Stove

Hamish never felt like he belonged in a corn field. His parents did not ask him to work on the farm after high school, so he joined the navy. But he did not feel at home on the sea either. For two years he was stationed on a weather-monitoring boat in the Pacific, but he got sick every time it was stormy. After he left the ship, Hamish took a job driving a semi back and forth across the country, delivering goods to each end. It was enjoyable seeing so much of the US, but he did not want to settle anywhere. Hamish felt content living as a nomadic bachelor, until he met Judith.

She was beautiful, smart, and she had grown up on a a farm too. After their first date, Hamish took a job at a repair shop and rented an apartment, suddenly feeling good about being in one place. From there he was surprised how quickly things moved with Judith. They were a couple, then they were engaged, and in another blink, married. For their honeymoon, he took her on a tour through Vermont. He knew his ancestors settled there after leaving Scotland, and he had never visited the area.

One afternoon when they were driving around the countryside, the surroundings seemed familiar to Hamish. Although he kept this thought a secret, he found himself steering toward a dairy farm, where he knew there would be a house they had to see. Judith was humming along with the radio and daydreaming when he stopped the car in front of a small brick structure. “Hamish? Where are we?” she asked as he turned off the motor. But he walked ahead and knocked on the door.

No one answered, but it was unlocked. Inside the house, which had been unoccupied for a while, Hamish felt a keen sense of belonging. Then, he began to remember things. He was drawing a plan for construction, carting supplies from a market, laying bricks for a season. These images surprised him as he scanned the tiny house, but they were so vivid. What was happening? In a flash he knew he had been “James.” This had been his house. This was where he rebuilt his life after leaving the Scottish hills and enduring months on the ocean.

Although Hamish did not reveal this epiphany to Judith, he gave his wife a detailed tour. He explained the choices of brick and mortar in different parts of the structure and boasted of its sturdiness. She did not say he was insane, but her eyes widened a few times as he spoke. When they were in the back of the house, they found an ancient wood burning stove. Hamish suddenly felt nauseous. He closed his eyes to fight it, but dizziness forced him to sit on the ground.

His mind filled with visions: a bride in a plain white dress, he and his love chasing an escaping calf, his hands touching her stomach and making solemn promises, the quiet doctor with a satchel, his wife and son crying and fading away, a gravestone with two names, and a crib he would never finish building. Last, he remembered staring into a cold, empty stove he would never bother to light again. As Hamish absorbed the despair that remained in this space, tears flooded his cheeks.

When he finally had the strength to look at his wife, she was staring at him quizzically. “’Hamish?” she said, caressing the side of his face. “What’s happening to you?” It took a long time, but eventually her husband was able to whisper. “I…  built. . .. this . . . house.  . . for her,” crying harder when he said the pronoun. Her husband was obviously distraught, and perhaps crazy, but at the mention of a “her” Judith’s worry for Hamish was colored with envy. As they left the house, she held his hand but wondered whose hand he longed to touch again. Reincarnation was impossible, she was certain, but her negative emotions were real.

They left the farm country after that day and began driving through the mountains, taking rolls of pictures. Hamish never elaborated on what occurred at the house, and his wife did not ask. The rest of the vacation–every vista and photo– was tainted with Judith’s unspoken concerns. Her husband was clearly unwell, but perhaps she was too. Instead of wondering how to help him, she was obsessing over a mysterious (and likely imaginary) woman whose memory had destroyed her husband.

Settling into married life was not easy for Judith or Hamish after returning from Vermont. Although she took a job as a receptionist at his shop, they never seemed to connect at work. When they were together, he often looked out of a window or did not speak. Hamish enjoyed repairing cars but felt less content every day. He began to wonder what would happen if he drove away and never returned.

Judith thought her pregnancy would help them feel closer, but his response was a disappointment. “A baby?” Hamish asked as he turned away from her. “A baby?” he repeated, as if the concept was hard to understand. After pacing around their house, Hamish returned and whispered, “That’s wonderful news,” before he kissed her. Judith tried to believe him. The next morning, she was not surprised by the silent apartment or missing car. She knew Hamish would go back to Vermont. Judith was certain her husband intended to return to a home he believed he had with another woman. And neither she nor their baby would be able to convince Hamish to build a fire again.

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