This is Me Surviving

Update ...

2011-11-14T10:47:00.001-08:00

The following stories are now complete:
A Will To Survive
Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men
Forsaken Harvest (completed as of 11/14/11)
Over the Mountain and Through the Fire
This Is Me Surviving

Stories Currently in Progress:
All Roads Lead Somewhere
Carry On
Gurl
Mom's Journal of the Zombie Years
To All Things There Is A Season
Il Agita Di Amore
And the Geek Will Inherit the Earth

I plan on a very short break and then will begin to try and complete another story. I hope to have at least two more completed before the end of the year.

Chapter 101

2011-03-16T20:42:00.001-07:00

Chapter 101

“Memaw! Memaw! What happened? Who was wearing the boots?!”

Kiri looked over at Joy and then at her husband, still deep in his thoughts. “No need to shout child. I’m sitting right here.”

Joy, still impatient, knew her Memaw meant business so she tried to ask more quiet and ladylike, “But who was it Memaw? Was it Peepaw?”

A deep sigh preceeded Kiri’s answer. “No child. It was Uncle Ram and Ken.”

“Ken? Pastor Ken?! The really old man that sometimes gives the eulogies at the Old Timers’ funerals?”

Rand snorted in suppressed laughter, Kiri was less amused. “Joy … would you like me to set you to peeling potatoes from now until Juvember?”

Joy thought, “Memaw knows I hate peeling dirty ol’ taters.” But all she said was, “Uh, no ma’am.”

“Then think before you speak. Lord willing you’ll get to enjoy aging too and then we’ll see how much you like some pretty young thing calling you an old timer.”

Rand, not quite as deep in thought as Kiri believed muttered, “Seems to me the pot is calling the kettle black.”

This time it was Joy who had to hide a laugh as her Memaw gave her Peepaw the evil eye. Everybody knew that Memaw could go off like a Tallahassee bottle rocket with no warning. It was fun watching Peepaw and Uncle Ram tease her about it. ‘Course they were the only ones brave enough to set her off on purpose. However, still impatient for the rest of the story she asked, “Where was Peepaw?”

“Your Aunt Missy’s first husband Bill and some other men held him back.”

“Why? Didn’t he want to see you?”

Kiri glanced at Rand again who had gone pale. “Hush Joy; what a thing to say. Of course he wanted to rush in and see me, but you’re old enough to realize not every story ends like a fairy tale. Sometimes bad things happen. Those men were trying to protect your Peepaw. They didn’t know if it was me or what kind of shape I’d be in if it was.”

In truth the men had feared the worst when they’d first laid eyes on the still and silent figure huddled around the crying babies and they worried for Rand’s sanity nearly as much they had feared for Kiri’s safety. There was a lot of temporary relief when Ken had found she was still breathing. Ken and Ram did their best to examine Kiri and clean her up before Rand rushed in and got his first look at her, but it still shocked him so bad his knees gave out. Rand tried to gather her into his arms as he started calling her name but Ken pulled him back.

“Easy now. Rand, we need to get her into the wagon and be careful doing it and then get her back to your place as soon as we can. There isn’t much I can do for her out in the middle of nowhere like this. And we need to find some goat milk for those babies.”

“Why isn’t she moving? What’s wrong with her? Those guardsmen said she seemed OK, just tired. What …?”

“She’s wore thin son. We don’t know what the circumstances around the birth was, if she was alone or had help. She looks like she’s been on short rations. We don’t even know how long she’s been on the road but one of the babies still has its umbilical cord barely hanging on so the birth itself couldn’t have been that long ago.”

Rand gulped and whispered as he took in the noisy duo, “So it was twins just like you worried.”

Ken nodded. “Fraternal; boy and a girl. Girl is the one making the most noise. They’re small but seem healthy given the circumstances. It is Kiri we need to focus on, she’s more fragile than the babies are. Her blood pressure is too high for my comfort and her lungs are congested. I want to break out those supplies the ladies packed, get Kiri and the babies settled in the wagon, and travel as far as we can tonight.”

Of course Kiri didn’t find any of this out for nearly two weeks. She’d been unconscious most of that time and it took her several days to convince the men that she wasn’t as frail as she appeared at the time. It was also then that she learned that the guardsmen who had given her a lift through Williston had been instrumental in her rescue. As soon as they had learned that kidnapping and human trafficking was involved they had used that as leverage to get permission to begin grid by grid search efforts with another team despite what was going on in Williston.

The guardsmen had met up with Ram’s men and were on their second day of looking when Rand arrived with the others and it was the morning after that that someone had heard crying and the rest as they say was history.

Joy asked, “But Memaw, you got better right?”

“Good Heavens child, do you think I’d be sitting here if I hadn’t?” Kiri regretted her words when she saw Rand wince out of the corner of her eye. She changed gears and said brightly, “All’s well that ends well and this corn is finally finished. Now go on out and get a couple of the boys to come cart it all to the summer kitchen. It isn’t going to can itself and your mother promised to give me a hand and get it started after I got it shucked.”

Joy, knowing that she’d learned all she was going to be allowed to for a while said, “Yes ma’am” before doing as her Memaw had told her.

After the girl left Kiri got up and walked over to the door to make sure Joy didn’t get side tracked; then she shook her corn silk covered apron off outside before returning and closing the door behind her. Rand looked up at the sound and then let out a surprised laugh after reading the look on his wife’s face.

“Joy’s comment get to you ol’ woman?”

“Who are you calling ol’ woman you old man?” Kiri sassed as she eased onto Rand’s lap, careful of the leg he had broken ten years ago falling from the hay loft. It still occasionally gave him trouble.

Rand smiled and pulled her more firmly against him, not letting her be as careful as she was wont to treat him when he got like this. “Sure puts a crimp in things will all the kids back home and under foot,” Rand said as he wrapped his still lean and muscular arms around his wife. She wasn’t as petite and willowy as she had been when they first married but long days in the garden had kept her trim despite all of the children she’d given him.

“Humph. Didn’t seem to crimp you any last night,” Kiri twinkled wickedly.

Rand grinned back just as wickedly, thankful once again that love and time had taken care of much of her shyness. “Why thank you kindly Mrs. Joyner,” he said tipping an imaginary hat.

“You’re welcome Mr. Joyner.” Kiri smiled, she being thankful that his drift into melancholy seemed to be over. “You doing OK?”

“Mmmm hmmm, good food and a good woman makes for a good day.” At Kiri’s raised eyebrow Rand said a little more seriously, “It was finding your old desk and journal. Caught me off guard. Memories kinda swamped me there for a while.”

“That’s years gone Rand. We survived it and have lived a lot of life since then,” Kiri said as she cupped his grizzled cheek with her work roughened hand.

He sighed and set the rocker moving gently, “I know it Babe. And don’t think I’m not forever grateful for every one of those days.”

“Humph, well there are a few I could have done without. Remember when all of ‘em came down with diphtheria? Or when Beau and Caleb went with Ram and caught polio down in Miami and had to be quarantined outside of town? When Francine …?”

“I said every one of them and I meant every one of them … both good and bad. I’ll take a bad day with you over a good day without you every time.”

They had just tilted their heads for a kiss when two of Austin’s sons banged open the door and barreled through. “Memaw, Joy said you wanted us to … eeewwwww! Daaaddddd, they’re doing it again!”

Austin stuck his head around the door and then started laughing as he caught sight of a very red-faced Kiri who was trying to get out of Rand’s lap. Problem was that Rand wasn’t cooperating and was making it worse by laughing too. Austin prayed silently that he and his bride would still be playing and catching a smooch when they reach his parents’ age.

“Honestly, you’d think I raised a bunch of heathens the way y’all act sometimes,” Kiri grumped after she finally managed to extricate herself and get her clothes and hair straightened enough to pass in polite company. “And stop encouraging them Rand. You even worse than they are.” And of course that only set both Rand and Austin to laughing even more.

After catching his breath but still chuckling Austin said, “Momma, Missy and Belle are coming down the road and they told me to warn you that Beau radioed that he’d be at the train depot by dinner time and would appreciate it if someone could leave a wagon or truck for him and his brood and maybe a snack for everyone since they were only allowed to board with one picnic hamper.”

Kiri went into a tizzy. “Oh Lord Rand, where are we going to put ‘em all? I mean I’m glad that Missy finally agreed to come for a visit but I didn’t expect for her to bring all eight of her grandchildren. How many does that make now?”

Austin snorted then asked, “Need a calculator Momma?”

Austin was a grown man with children of his own but he still stopped when his mother gave him “that” look. Kiri pulled out her note pad, “Let’s see. You and Camille and your six. Beau and Rachel and their four … Austin can you make sure that Beau doesn’t try to talk her into sleeping in the wagon? The last thing we need is for her to go into labor and have that baby under a palmetto like she did the last one. My stars and garters, I nearly swallowed my teeth when I found out about it.”

Austin was thinking the same thing and praying thankfully that the few times he’d gotten an itchy foot to go exploring Camille had been content to stay home with the children. Rachel on the other hand was at least as adventuresome as Beau and they’d dragged their brood all across the country into all kinds of craziness.

Unaware of Austin’s thoughts Kiri continued, “Belle and Freddie and their four will split their time between us and Laurabeth and Ron. I think Freddie is finally going to accept his father deeding him over that land to work. I sure hope he does, it’ll be so nice to have Belle closer to home and if Freddie gets that position at the hospital … Anywho, next comes Caleb and Cynthia and their two. Then Daniel and Yolanda … and if I’m not mistaken their last letter hinted at some special news from them, maybe the adoption finally went through. And Everett and Penny; I expect they’ll want the baby to sleep in their room so Rand we need to bring the cradle down from storage. Add in Francine and Charlie and their two rapscallions … if I catch them swinging in my plum trees again I know who can help shovel the manure into the methane holding tank. Georgie and Caroline will have their three stay in their bedroom because they’re too young to sleep with the older kids. Henry and Joyce will come over during the day but I expect they’ll have to get back to the farm at night so Henry can help that old grump of a father in law he has …”

“Kiri …,” Rand warned pointing his head towards the children.

“Don’t you Kiri me, Rand Joyner. The children know exactly how cantankerous that old coot is. He takes all the fun out of every childrens program the Ladies’ Auxiliary has put on for the last year with his starched up judgementalism. Last one he nearly had poor Joy in tears simply because she got Lamentations and Leviticus mixed up.”

“Man’s had a hard life Momma,” Austin said trying to keep his mother from going off on one of her tangents.

“Man makes his life hard Austin. How such a sweet thing like Joyce could turn out the way she did with a father like she has I’ll never know; honestly, she reminds me of Alicia when we were all younger. And he doesn’t show the least bit of appreciation for the fact that Henry has turned that farm around. He just sits back and enjoys the fruit of Henry’s labor like he is entitled to it. That man is a real Laban through and through.”

“What does that mean Memaw?” Joy asked.

“Oh,” Kiri said, realizing that little pitchers do have big ears. “Well, read your Bible Joy and you’ll find out. And until you do you just keep family talk to yourself. You hear?”

“Aw Memaw,” Joy lamented. “You boys do the same. Family talk is family talk. I’d like to know I can trust you and speak my mind around you without having to treat you like a bunch of toddlers.”

The boys nearly stood at attention in pride that they were getting acknowledged to be old enough to hear and be trusted with family talk.

Kiri returned to her counting almost without missing a beat. “Then Isabell and Archie and their three. That just leaves Janet and Johnnie and Ram said that he’ll go kidnap them from that college if he has to but they’ll come back for Pioneer Day this year and that is all there is to it. I doubt he’ll have to kidnap them though. Janet called to see if we minded if she invited that boy she is so partial to and … Oh Lord, I’ve lost count again.”

Austin laughed and said, “Don’t worry about it Momma. The boys and I put up the canvas tents and if we run out of room the kids can roost in the trees with the chickens.”

At the suddenly intent look on the two younger boys’ faces Kiri just shook her head and looked at Rand and Austin silently telling them to check for wood rot in the old tree house because that is where several of them would wind up if she didn’t miss her guess.

Finally winding down she shooed everyone out of the house and set to putting everything back to rights. She couldn’t remember the mess being quite this bad even when her ducklings were all young and rowdy. Of course they weren’t stair steps like some women had. It took three years after Beau and Belle were born before she caught pregnant again and she’d lost that one; and the one right after that one too. Rand had sectioned off a piece of the farm for a cemetery in an area that never flooded but which wasn’t good for farming and buried both little bodies and commissioned concrete markers never realizing how quickly the plot would grow.

Uncle George had died of a sudden heart attack not two days after they’d buried the second little lost one, and then a few months later Janet had some kind of seizure right after she’d gotten engaged to that boy from Branford and died in her sleep. And not three months after that Bill had accidentally been killed by some boys that had been arguing over a girl at one of the old market days; he’d died before he’d even realize he’d been shot. Missy had been pregnant again and lost her husband and her baby on the same day; buried them in the same plot next to the other graves still so new the grass hadn’t covered them yet. Those had been hard times.

She and Rand had just come to accept and be content with the fact that they’d only have the twins when she started banging them out like she’d never had problems, surprising everyone herself included. Every child was another miracle, especially Janet and Johnnie who came when she had supposedly been in menopause for two years. Hadn’t Rand laughed over that particular practical joke God had played on them; twins on both ends.

Then diphtheria had ripped through the community and Brendan and Alicia had laid one of their babies to rest with the others. Ram and his bride had three little ones in the cemetery and had given up hope having any children together. Then Ram had gotten that contract with that new Shands hospital and one of the doctors there discovered she had a cyst and once it had been removed they were eventually able to have two, a little boy and a little girl.

Missy never really recovered from Bill’s death but she did eventually remarry to a kind man who helped to raise Bill’s children as if they were his own. After Bill’s death Ram and Brendan went into partnership and took over the Trade Shack since Missy couldn’t stand the place because of all of its memories. Missy’s second husband, Robert, had been a business contact of Ram’s who ran an aquaculture farm in Ocala. When they married Missy moved her family to his place and seemed to finally come to terms with things and find peace and contentment. Because of this Rand and Kiri always had a special place in her hearts for Robert.

Their feelings for Ron Harbinger were just as strong though it had taken years to really get to where they were these days. Ron and Rand were like brothers and had reached a point where they could look back on the past and if not laugh about the way things used to be, at least acknowledge that God had a purpose not always easily understood by mere mortals. Beau and Bell had been almost a year old when Ron finally got the courage to acknowledge that he’d fallen in love with LauraBeth. When he’d spoken to Uncle George the man had laughed and said, “About flaming time! I knew you was hard headed boy, but you’s just about as blind as a bat too.”

Ron never seemed to cease to be amazed that LauraBeth returned his feelings. You could still catch him, all these years later, with an arrested expression on his face as he looked at her when he didn’t think anyone was looking. They named one of their daughters Julia and not a few people were surprised by it. LauraBeth had told Kiri once, “Good grief, you’d think people would have more important things to worry about than what Ron and I decide to call our children … and what business it is of theirs I don’t know.” Kiri thought she understood, it was their way of commemorating the young woman whose sacrifice gave them both the chance to live on for Freddie’s sake when it would have been easier to simply have given up.

After Uncle George’s death Ron and LauraBeth moved back to the old Harbinger farm off of River Road. All the family came together and helped to repair and rebuild the place. LauraBeth signed her portion of Uncle George’s farm over to Brendan and Alicia in exchange for enough cattle, feed, and seed to get Ron’s farm back up and running. The old Winston place was farmed by both families but was always understood to be in trust for Freddie when he was ready.

Charlene eventually married and had a family of her own but it was only after she’d gone on a few adventures of her own … surreptitiously guided and watched over by Ram’s young “brother in law.” Charlene and her husband now operate one of the trading hubs outside of Tampa though they travel frequently back to see everyone now that their children are grown.

Mick could have had part of the farm but instead chose to join the military. He did two tours and saw quite a bit of action during the Sino-American war but after being injured in a plane crash and then losing the hearing in one ear from a grenade exploding near his position he returned home to marry a local girl. They still run the postal office though it is their sons rather than Mick that do most of the local courier work and express deliveries.

Momma O and Mrs. Withrow both outlived Uncle George by several years, but even those illustrious ladies eventually had to meet their Maker. Momma O was more than ready, having suffered a long time from the arthritis that crippled her so that she couldn’t even go out and about. Mrs. Withrow passed away in church. Everyone thought the old dear had taken a brief nap as had become her habit but when she didn’t get up to signal that it was time for the ladies to tend to the afternoon meal the Pastor stopped, and then after checking on her called for a moment of silence as everyone shed a few tears.

Kiri thought, “The years have passed so fast. Half my grandchildren think it isn’t much more than a bed time story when I tell them how I walked and then rode a bike all the way from Tampa to Sparkleberry Ranch. They look at the stories of the time right after the pandemic the same way kids of my generation looked at the stories of the wild west and the wagon trains and have as little understanding of what really went on to survive.”

She swept up the last errant corn silk and then twitched the curtains straight before looking around for something else that needed doing. When nothing presented itself quickly enough she glanced at her old journal and decided to read the last page before putting the dog eared old thing away in her cedar chest so that Rand wouldn’t worry at it any more.

--------------------------

I don’t remember the wagon ride home at all. Don’t remember the next week or so to be honest. The first thing I do remember is Rand’s voice in my ear telling me that I couldn’t die because I hadn’t even told him what I’d named the babies. For some reason I was able to grab that thought and hold on and eventually I was able to say “Beans.” It was another few hours of oblivion before I had the energy to wake up enough to say, “Beau and Belle … our little B&B Beans.”

For some reason everyone that heard that over the next couple of days found it hysterically funny. Mostly I guess it was just relief that I’d drawn back from dying. I saw so many tears from people that I never expected to see them from that I’m embarrassed to even write it down, it seems such a private thing. Rand and Ram have been the worst; both are nearly smothering me with their love and over protectiveness.

I finally managed to get Ram to lighten up a bit but Rand is another story. I’m really worried about him; he’s not acting like himself at all. ‘Course I don’t feel much like my old self either. Maybe there are things that happen in life that just change you; this certainly seems like it could be one of them for both of us. For Austin too, he’s lost that little boy look that he’d just gotten back after I was finally able to feed him up. He and Woofer have become like little guards. There was a fly in the twins’ room yesterday and Austin was totally outraged. He and Woofer made more of a mess trying to catch the fly than the fly ever would have done on its own but I didn’t have the heart to get on to them. I guess it is just going to take a while for all of us to get used to feeling safe again.

Ram finally convinced the Navy that he was on the up and up and was able to find out that the other pregnant women had arrived back in port ahead of the storm and that all were doing well and had been reunited with their family. They had thought that both the sailor and I had been lost at sea.

He also found out who “she” was for me … the “she” that the sailor had told me to tell he was sorry. “She” was Delores Carruthers Douglas, sister of Petty Officer Third Class Caleb Carruthers. He was sorry because he wouldn’t be able to make it to her wedding and walk the bride down the aisle. Ram made sure she got her brother’s dog tags and in return brought me back a letter telling me how grateful she was that I taken care of her brother’s last request and let her know what a hero he was.

I cried a bit and told Rand that I was the one that was grateful. Rand said that we could make Caleb Beau’s middle name if I wanted to but it doesn’t seem right somehow. Maybe we’ll name the next little boy we have Caleb but I won’t mention that to Rand yet. Rand is so careful of me we might not have any more kids at this rate. I tried to tell him that it doesn’t seem so bad in hindsight but he just shudders. I guess we’ll just have to see who will have their way this time. It isn’t like I’m looking to get pregnant again too soon really and there are so many things that need doing. I just don’t want to give up on the idea the way he seems to.

The hurricane, I don’t think it has been named yet since the Meteorological Society is kind of defunct, bounced up the west coast making landfall several times before swinging east and sweeping across Florida and ripping itself apart as it traveled into Georgia and basically followed the Appalachian trail northward until it was just a tropical depression up passed the Blue Ridge Parkway. Ram said roadways have been destroyed making it imperative (his word, not mine) that new trade routes be found.

Ram has been trying to get Rand to focus on the future instead of mired in the present that seems to worry him so. This coming January and February we are going to plant a new orchard. We’ll start with Hood pears, persimmons, and figs and if those do well we’ll branch out into other varieties. Ram says he can create a market down south for our deciduous fruit with an even exchange for citrus and other exotics and that what we don’t want we could then trade up north for things that are harder for us to grow like some grains or we could get some more seed potatoes or the like.

I’m running out of energy again and I have to get some sleep. I plan on resting up the next few days and then I’m going to Market Day on Saturday. I am not letting Rand talk me out of it again. I want to get out. I want to show our babies off. I’ve got a list as long as my arm of things I want to trade for including some seeds for this coming garden season and maybe some starts for a new flower bed. I also realized I don’t have near enough diapers and clothes for the babies; about half of what I need to be honest which makes sense because I doubled the number I expected to have.

I still am not sure why Ken and Rand didn’t tell me they expected me to have twins. Their reasons sound OK but on the other hand a little warning would have been nice. I tried to gloss over how scared I had gotten when the pains had come on me the second time but Rand still got so gray I thought he was going to fall over into his oatmeal after I let it slip while answering some of Ken’s questions. I finally just told them from here on out if they have a suspicion that something is going on inside my body I’d appreciate an honest warning.

That’s not the only thing that hasn’t made sense to me. I’m still wondering why God let things happen the way they did and why that sailor had to die so that I and the babies might live. I’m trying to find the sense in the senseless. What was all of this for? Is this the worst we will ever experience? Was this some kind of experience that is supposed to teach me what is really important? Or to prepare me for even harder times ahead?

I’m trying to put my thoughts in order and one of things that seems the most ironic is that Rand and I celebrated one year of marriage yesterday. I remembered right off but I hadn’t known how to ask if he remembered. I guess we both danced around about it for a while and then I had one of those silly crying fits that seem to still come at me out of the blue. Rand wanted to go get Ken but I managed to stop him and then blurted out about our anniversary and how I was upset that I couldn’t even seem to find the strength to make his breakfast like I used to and then fell apart even more as I asked him if it bothered him that I’d gone completely useless on him.

That took him aback and I guess he is starting to see that sitting around doing nothing is helping me a whole lot less than he thought it was. I can’t just sit and do nothing because my thoughts climb into the hamster wheel in my head and wind up going in circles so fast I have a meltdown.

He seems to be accepting that he’s got a problem too but I’m not sure if he realizes how bad it is yet. I have some healing yet to do and I guess he does too. The last few weeks has seen us both taking turns thinking the worst but instead of it being the beginning of the end as we had feared, it has turned out to be the only the end of the beginning for us all.

And there go the Beans again, singing for their supper. I’m glad because I was getting kind of sore. This motherhood thing is turning out to be both easier and harder than I ever expected it to be.

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Kiri laughed in spite of herself realizing that she’d gotten so busy she’d never finished the journal. Shaking her head she said, “You didn’t even have a clue yet that you’d said a mouth full. Good Heavens, it is hard to believe I was ever that young.”

“What?” Rand asked, coming up behind her.

She turned and stepped into his embrace that could still both excite and bring her comfort after all these years. “You married a very silly young thing. She was so clueless.”

“We both were. I think it is supposed to be that way. If we had known what life would hand us over the years …”

Kiri shook her head. “I don’t mean that. Not precisely anyway. The innocence I can understand, even appreciate in hindsight.” She stopped and just shook her head again.

“What?” Rand asked again. Even after all of these years sometimes the only thing that worked was simple patience until she could string her thoughts together enough to share them.

“We could have missed this.”

“Missed what?”

“This. All of it. I remember who I used to be Rand. I had a chip on my shoulder the size of the old Mt. Rushmore carving. You remember what it used to look like, how big it used to be. Same for the chip on my shoulder. I don’t even know where I would have ended up … how I would have ended up … if you hadn’t come into my life.”

Rand gently kissed her forehead, “I feel the same way. Always have, always will. God smiled on me the day I came to in that wheelbarrow. Even upside down I could tell you were something else,” he said with a tickle.

“Oh you,” she smiled. “Lordy, look at us, we’ll be embarrassing the kids again if we aren’t careful.” She decided to put some safe distance between them and then said, “I made blackberry jam cake and forgot to bring it out at lunch. You hungry?”

“Always.”

Kiri just shook her head at his double meaning. “Rand Joyner … honestly,” she laughed.

“What?” Rand asked a little too innocently not to know exactly what she was laughing at. Then he caught her to him again and said, “We survived.”

“Yes we did.”

“Gonna keep on surviving for as long as we’ve got.”

“Yes we are.”

He squeezed her tightly and said, “Together.”

“Is there any other way?” she asked squeezing back just as firmly.

And they did … through the good times and the bad … together … for a good many more years after that …

THE END

Chapter 100

2011-03-16T20:40:00.000-07:00

Chapter 100

I didn’t exactly sleep that night. I was constantly thirsty and when I didn’t wake up thirsty Beau and Belle woke me up wanting to chow. I swear you would think that babies that were smaller than regular babies would have smaller appetites but if I didn’t feel like a heifer at the milking stand I don’t think any woman ever has. And my little Beans were making me a bit sore. I was sure I wasn’t doing something right but how the heck was I supposed to know at that point? It isn’t like I had anyone to ask.

And to pile insult on top of injury I noticed that every time I moved around I kind of … well … gushed. I’d read about post partum bleeding in those books but I didn’t realize it was going to be quite so … er … prolific. I was in a hard way. I needed something to use for my feminine needs. I needed something that could act like diapers and wipes for the twins. I needed something that could cover all three of us. And I knew I would need something to make a sling or something out of so that I could carry my little B&B Beans.

I knew I would have to do some exploring but I felt so lightheaded, but at the same time my head hurt so bad it felt like it was a twelve pound bowling ball sitting on top of a toothpick. The pounding was so bad I was nauseous. Or maybe it was just the fact that I hadn’t eaten.

As I was tearing my pregnancy muumuu up as much as I could and still retain some modesty I found the little packages of food that I’d stuffed into my pockets. It was just a few packages of crush pretzels, peanuts, and some kind of trail mix, like those little packages you were given on airplanes, but not being too sacrilegious about it they seemed like manna from Heaven at the time.

I fixed myself up the best I could and just said to heck with it and left Beau and Belle au natural. We were all so gross that a little more nasty wouldn’t make that much difference. The babies didn’t really smell bad despite it all; their guts were still pretty clean. It was me that smelled disgusting. I tore a strip off the bottom of my dress wide enough so that it made a passable sling like the one that I had sewn and put away in the baby’s room … make that babies’ room. Since it was already sewn together at the seam I didn’t even have to tie it and because my little Beans were small I only needed one sling to carry them both with. I figured they were used to sleeping all smooshed together so I didn’t worry about it.

Walking was … unpleasant. OK, that doesn’t cover it … I was sore, gross, smelled, walking around in tore up clothes in danger of losing my modesty with stuff all but hanging out in the breeze that hadn’t done that since I was little more than the Beans’ age. It was also still damp and raining so I tore the plastic off the bottom of the ancient mattress and used it like a poncho. If anyone had told me what state I would eventually be walking around in on the bike ride up to Sparkleberry Ranch from Tampa I would have probably laughed myself sick or slapped them with something big and heavy. But walk I did … just real slow and ginger and holding onto anything close by that I could reach.

Besides being sore in my more delicate areas it felt like my insides were trying to realign to some alien schematic. I knew it was because the babies were on the outside now and things were trying to move back to where they used to belong but knowing that didn’t change the fact that it felt like my insides were dropping out. It was odd being able to draw a full breath too, almost like I was getting too much oxygen for a change and that added to my lightheadedness.

As I explored I found a few useful odds and ends in the surrounding bungalows: a few old enamelware pots and pans; some curtains (old and thin); a few sheets (old, thin, and rotted and mildewed in some places); more plastic from some of the other mattresses; a bottle of Everclear that I decided to use as disinfectant for the Beans’ umbilical cords; and a few other little odds and ends to eat with that didn’t do a whole lot of good since I didn’t have anything to eat. I had to keep resting … and cleaning myself up … and at those times forced myself to drink and eat a few stale peanuts and raisins for protein and sugar.

I was getting shaky and the feeling was scary. It felt like the times I had passed out because of my blood pressure only worse. Ken and I had talked about that the blood pressure problem would likely resolve itself when the baby … now babies … were born but instead I was feeling worse. It was so bad that when it would have been lunch time I had to lie down or fall down and when I got back up I had a nose bleed and stuffy ears. My head literally felt like it was going to explode. I knew that wasn’t good I just didn’t know what to do about it.

Despite the way I felt, or maybe because of it, I knew I had to persevere. If I stopped I’d give up and then I and the Beans’ lives would be forfeit. Several times I caught myself mumbling a little incoherently and realized I was praying. I sure hope God could figure out what I meant because at the time not even I understood what I was saying. I was just about ready to give up when I came upon a bungalow that was about three times the size of the other ones and I realized it must have been the caretaker’s cottage. The door was locked and it took a lot of my mental energy to figure out a way in.

Going in a window was out of the question in my shape. I wasn’t going to be able to kick anything open. I sure as heck wasn’t going to be able to climb to the roof and go down the skylight as I might have risked before I got pregnant. When I stepped back for a better look and nodded my head and continued. I’ve discovered that people’s front doors might be rock solid but their back or side doors were usually much more vulnerable to breaking in. Why people don’t realize that I’ll never know. Sure enough I was able to use some rocks that had been in the hedge border around the house to pound on the back door knob. Once I had broken the screws and knocked the door knob off I was able to use a stick to pull the latch back out of the strike plate and then push the door in.

I leaned against the door jamb for a moment and then my nose noticed the smell. I stank, it was so bad even I noticed, but the little house smelled … well, I figured there was a body in there but that it had been gone a long time. Sure enough in what was the bed in the lone bedroom there was a corpse. I’m sorry to say I wasn’t shocked. Between what I had seen on the bike ride and what I had seen since and the overall condition I was in I just didn’t have it left in me to be shocked.

I’m not sure if the corpse was male or female but I decided that while I was sure that anything infectious or gross was long gone … really, really long gone from the appearance of it … I would avoid going too near it, especially now that I had my little Beans to worry for. However, that didn’t prevent me from combing the rest of the cottage for anything useful and I got very, very lucky. Or it was providential, I suppose it depends on who you talk to and what they believe.

There were useful things still hanging in the little curtain covered alcove that was used as a clothes closet and linen chest. There were some odds and ends in the closet sized bathroom. And in the kitchen cabinet I found about two dozen cans. A couple of them had gone over … leaked or expanded out of shape and I didn’t touch those … and a few had most of the labels eaten away so that I didn’t know what was in them but I didn’t care. I was shaking so bad that I knew that I needed to get what I could and get back to my own little hidey hole.

I barely made it. I’m not sure what was wrong with me but by the time I got the door shut and bolted against yet another storm all I could do was slide to the floor and start crying. The crying didn’t seem to have any purpose. It wasn’t the least bit constructive. I’ve talked to Ken and Mrs. Withrow since then and they suggested it was either emotional shock … something I’m not particularly prone to I don’t think … or I was having a bad case of something called the baby blues. Scientifically it is called post partum depression but whatever it was as soon as I started crying Beau and Belle started crying too and that only made me cry harder.

I cried off and on for what was left of the evening. I cried the hardest when I realized I hadn’t found a can opener to get into those cans with. Finally the brain fog cleared up enough that I figured out a way to tear into the cans using a butter knife and a hammer. The so-called “knife” was toast afterwards but it I figured that I could pound it straight again … or not as I realized there were several other things that I could use to get into the cans amongst my “finds.”

The can I managed to open was sliced peaches. I gagged on the heavy syrup they were in but the sugar helped me clear my head and gave me just enough energy to clean myself and the B&B Beans up so that we could all at least pretend to have a decent sleep. The next morning I was beyond exhausted and knew that I wasn’t going anywhere. I didn’t even have the energy to do any more exploring or to go get the rest of the canned food. Heck, the only time I even opened the door was to bring in more rain water or to throw nasty water (and latrine stuff) out.

It continued to rain. At the time it was annoying but in reality it was a blessing. There is no way I could have figured out how to get half way decent drinking water any other way. I still hadn’t found a way to make fire but towards the end of that day as I became more and more annoyed that nothing was drying after I washed it I started trying to figure out how to make fire.

I even dreamed about fire, all night. Then as I was feeding the two chow hounds around dawn I realized I’d seen a gas grill at the caretaker’s cottage. There hadn’t been any gas but the grill itself had an electronic ignition. Suddenly my energy level went up and my blue funk started fading. I packed the Beans up and went back to the cottage. Sure enough there was the BBQ. Big problem though was that the battery in the igniter was dead. I nearly went into a funk again and then I gave myself a royal dope slap for giving in to despair. I hadn’t done it in a long, long time and I wasn’t about to start when I had babies depending on me.

Opening the junk drawer in the cottage I found a package of 9V batteries, probably used for the smoke detectors in each bungalow. And then in the few remaining cleaning supplies I found a roach eaten box of SOS scrubbing pads. I hugged these to myself and giggled like a loony. Good thing my little Beans weren’t old enough to realize just how close to crazy their mom really was at that moment.

It felt like it took forever to rinse the soap out of the SOS pad but once I had I was left with a mass of steel wool. I took some old pieces of newspaper I found in several of the bungalows and set up my experiment. Sure enough, dragging the 9V battery through the steel wool created sparks enough that I managed to catch the newspaper on fire. With that tender … and after spending a couple of hours locating some wood that was still relatively dry enough to do anything with … I started a small fire in the little fireplace and I was able to dry out some cloths for diapers for the Beans and some for my own personal needs as well.

That was another day and I knew I couldn’t continue like this indefinitely. I was starting to cough off and on, especially in the mornings and new gunk was trying to build up in my chest from all the damp. But I also knew that there was no way I would get very far the way things stood at that moment. I was so hungry that it was hard to think clearly. I had an idea, I just hoped that Rand would forgive me for taking a day or two longer to prepare.

The next morning I got up and grabbed the minnow net I had found in one of the bungalows as well as the old bamboo fishing pole and bobber that had been leaning in the same corner. Sure enough by the dock there were minnows galore and I scooped up all I wanted with relative ease. Then I hooked those puppies on the fishing line and started fishing. You know, it was a whole lot easier to catch those minnows than it was to catch bigger fish but I had three fish by the end of the day that were pretty decent sized and one big fish that had snagged another small fish before I could release it back into the wild. I have no clue what kind of fish they were; they had scales, fins, and googly eyes but they sure as heck cooked up pretty easy after I had cleaned them and discarded the innards some ways into the bushes. I still remembered the growl I had heard. I hadn’t heard anything like it since but there was no need to take unnecessary chances.

My energy was slowly coming back and the headaches weren’t so bad, though they never went away completely, but overall l still felt like I had fallen off a cliff since Beau and Belle had arrived. I was still bleeding too and I wasn’t sure just how normal, or not, that was. Where’s the internet when you need it most? None of this stuff had been in Momma’s notes. She was done having kids so I guess she didn’t think much about it but I sure could have used some of her homegrown commonsense. Heck I would have taken just about anyone at that point because they would have known more than I did.

And that is the night that Beau and Belle decided to get cranky. I don’t know who cried more them or me. It is a good thing that zombies aren’t real or we would have been toast given the amount of noise we all three made. I’m not sure why the babies were crying. I was even less sure why I was crying. Either way we didn’t fall asleep until there was enough light to show it was going to be another overcast day.

Despite the better food quality I started having the shakes again. I was also zoning in and out. I knew that I needed to find people soon and that was a huge admission for me. Without the babies I would have not cared a lick about doing anything but getting back to Rand but with the babies the whole game had changed. My little Beans were more important than my lopsided pride. I needed to let Rand know that I was OK but if I wasn’t the one to deliver the message I could live with that … so long as Beau and Belle were OK.

I needed a plan. I needed enough supplies to get home. I needed transportation. Before I could go any further with those three points I needed to know where I was.

I didn’t have a clue how to read the stars and even if I had the cloudy weather would have ruined that. I took stock of what I did know … or at least what I thought I knew. I was pretty sure the storm had been in the Gulf. No, I didn’t know for certain but the Atlantic just feels different and looks different. Also the rising and setting of the sun put water to the west and land on the east. That told me I was on the west coast of a body of land.

Another assumption I made was that I had washed up in Florida. For one it just felt like Florida. I know that sounds illogical and based on hope more than fact but there were things that made it seem more likely than not. The trees and stuff looked like home. Well, not Live Oak home but like stuff that you would find not too far from there. The trees were definitely the same kind of oaks as I was used to seeing but there were certainly more shore-friendly type plants as well like sea grapes, sea oats, scrub plants and that sort of thing. The birds were different but they were still birds that I was used to seeing when I went to the beach and that sort of thing back in Tampa.

Next I added the architecture of the bungalows and some of the other buildings that I had seen … or the remains of buildings I should say. A lot of them were made of tabby. Tabby is a kind of concrete that is made of sand, shells, and lime ash and it was very popular in Florida for several hundred years … up into the 1900s actually since it is so environmentally friendly and can put up with the Florida weather. And some of the exposed beams in some of the older buildings that I had seen were definitely made of cypress, it is a pretty distinct wood and was all over the place in Florida architecture for a while; even the Ringling mansion in Sarasota has a lot of cypress wood in it. Cypress is supposed to be termite resistant but honestly, I think if a termite wants a nibble of wood it is going to take a nibble of wood and hang whether it is supposed to be termite resistant or not. The floors in the bungalows were terrazzo and that definitely reminded me of Florida.

Mostly what I learned from my detective work was that I needed to make sure before I finalized my plans. I got so tired and I hurt and I had to rest a lot just looking around the little town; if I was wrong and went the wrong direction who knows what kind of trouble I would get in. Having a “good feeling” that I was stranded somewhere along the west coast of Florida didn’t mean a hill of beans if I could be more accurate than that. That meant exploring further from my base camp.

I decided to kill two birds with one stone. I’d go look for burnables and try and scout my location at the same time. I wasn’t sure it made sense to go back to the wharf area but I knew there was wood there and I needed a fire to try and drive out the dampness from clothes and cloths again even though it over heated the bungalow badly.

Most of the buildings facing the water were trashed … partly from fire though I wasn’t sure that was the only thing as there was lots of splintered wood that didn’t look like they had been burnt in any way. And the buildings must have been pretty good size as some of the frames looked like a few of the buildings had three or more stories to them. One street over there was no evidence of fire but something sure as heck tore the buildings up … riots, looters, vandals, or something else entirely. I didn’t know and didn’t particularly care as long as whatever it was left me alone while I was there.

I combed through the area looking for anything that would give me a clue but all of the paper I found was pretty sun bleached or useless. I’d gotten all of the sticks and fallen limbs that I could carry and still manage Beau and Belle safely when I looked over and saw this house that looked really old. I walked over and there was even a historical marker in front of it and bingo: “Second Oldest House on Florida’s Entire Gulf Coast … 4th Street, Cedar Key, FL.”

I knew where I was at. I even knew the quickest route home. But it most definitely wasn’t going to be easy.

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I headed back to the little vacation bungalow. You would have thought I would have been relieved but actually I was depressed. Instead of only wondering how far away from home I was now I knew. It wasn’t near as bad as it could have been but for all that it might as well have been thousands of miles.

I didn’t know how many miles exactly but I knew that it was going to be rough if I couldn’t find some way to trade for some help to get home or to get a message home. No doubt about it I was going to have to rely a lot more on faith than I had been doing in a while. I’d been relying on me, on Rand, on Ken, on the memories of my parents … this was something totally different. I’d experienced some awful stuff in my life but nothing quite like this. The stuff in the past left me with only myself to take care of but now I had my two little Beans that were totally reliant on me and I was beginning to wonder if God had really thought things through when he put them in my care.

Was I up for this? Was I strong enough? Was I clever enough to get us home? I went through another round of tears and feeling sorry for myself only made worse when Beau and Belle decided to make it a trio. I kept imagining Rand’s face and Austin’s. I knew I couldn’t give up but I could feel that things were going downhill fast; headaches to heartaches and everything in between.

Having one baby alone is difficult enough, having two babies and trying to do it alone and in conditions that rivaled what Neanderthal man had to deal with just didn’t seem like a real good option. I needed others and I needed them quickly. That meant getting out of this ghost town and hunting some up.

First I sat down and thought out my route. First I needed to get from Cedar Key to where it intersected with US27. Route 24 was the main road out of Cedar Key and it went straight to US27; I remember that much from my bike ride from Tampa to Live Oak. Once I got to US27 I could take it north all the way into Live Oak just like I had on that epic ride. Simple right? Wrong.

I spent the next two days trying to find some kind of transportation … bike, wagon, anything. There were several bike shops but they were cleaned out of whole bikes and only bits and pieces were left. In fact finding anything useful in the bungalows – especially the food – was nothing short of a miracle. Cedar Key had been cleaned out and picked over. And that meant carrying everything I would need for my trek on my own person.

Food for the journey was also a problem. I was quickly using up canned goods that I had found and the packaged stuff from the boat was completely gone. I looked around for wild foods to supplement the canned stuff and realized that those sea grapes that I had noticed actually had ripe clusters of fruit on them. I gathered those up, eating some of the tart, acidic fruit raw and then setting some to dry for raisins. I also found acorns; many had worm holes but I found enough that I could soak for use. They were easy to soak in all of the rain that kept coming down.

Next I noticed some cattails growing in the drainage ditches on the sides of the road. I pulled some of the roots and added them to my growing pile of food. I also saw some cabbage palm but I wasn’t in any shape to climb trees so no matter how yummy Hearts of Palm salad sounded, it was off the menu. I also saw Poke but it was too far gone for it to be safe to harvest.

My best discovery was a couple of chikasaw plums that had a little bit of fruit left on them in a backyard of one of the older homes in the historic district. The same yard had some herbs that had gotten out of control and I was able to get a few greens to mix with the dandelions that I found here and there and eat as a salad. Everything I found fit on the little kitchenette table but it looked like a banquet to me.

The problem was that I was eating my supplies faster than I could get them together for my road trip. At the end of the next day I had ground all of the acorns – they could have used another soak or two but I didn’t have the time – and then made a nasty tasting flat bread with them. With nothing to sweeten the bread with it wasn’t going to be my first choice but it would fill the void and travel.

It was still raining, sometimes downpours and sometimes just sprinkling. It was like a weather system was parked over the top of me and trying to make up for the drought months and then some. I didn’t dare complain though because otherwise I wouldn’t have had any water to drink unless I had somehow found a way to take the salt out of the nasty water near the wharf and at the small beach area.

To try and keep my supplies dry I cut sections of the plastic off of the mattresses then washed the sections. It wasn’t like having suran wrap or Ziploc bags but the plastic packets kept stuff drier than it would have otherwise been. While at the beach I found one of those state park kind of signs where it tells you interesting information about an area. Apparently Cedar Key was some kind of big clamming area. They had a bunch of clam farms as a form of aquaculture. Unfortunately I didn’t have a clue how to dig clams or how to fix them without making myself sick as a dog; but I did tuck the information away for future reference. I remember going crabbing with my parents but I wasn’t in any condition to do it.

I cut a couple of big sections of plastic to make a “tent” and ground cloth to go with the “poncho” I had already manufactured. I gathered up what pieces of “rope” that hadn’t fallen apart but mostly had to rely on the stuff that was used as plastic covered clothes line since most of the rope I found had been exposed to the elements and had dry rotted into uselessness. In the caretaker’s cottage I found one of those oversized women’s purses, the kind that you could practically sleep in if you had to, and that became my pack. It was heavy but I didn’t see as I had any choice. I also had a separate bag for “diapers,” feminine stuff, and for socks. My feet were constantly wet no matter what I did until I found a pair of men’s rubber waders that were so big that I could leave my boots on and wear the waders at the same time. They made me clumsy and slow but it was better than having my feet eat up with raw sores from being soaking wet all the time.

My biggest concern was fire and water. The fire issue I fixed by bringing along all of the 9V batteries and steel wool I had found; a little could go a long way with the right tinder. I also found under the cabinet in one of the bathrooms, way in the back, that the scavengers missed a half jar of Vaseline; that along with some cattail fluff tested out to be really good for what I needed. And just to be on the safe side I bundled some dry kindling that would get a small fire ready for larger pieces of wood.

The water, now that was the biggie. I didn’t have a canteen, didn’t have anything even approaching what could be a canteen. I couldn’t just assume that it would continue to rain. I couldn’t run away from the fact that the Beans and I would need water for cleaning up with if we were to stay healthy. I had a five gallon bucket but no way to carry it because the handle was broken. I didn’t have any small containers like water bottles; there were either none to be found or merely scraps of what was once a bottle, jug, etc. I was on my last leg as far as ideas went when I saw it.

There was a bicycle rental place on the very edge of the tourist area, right near the beach. No bicycles. No tires. But there were some bike repair pieces including some rims for kiddie bikes. It took me most of a day but I managed to make a “wagon” from four rims, a square of scrap plywood that looked like it had fallen from an old attic access hole, some rods and some other odds and ends off the floor of the bike shop. The rims were a little rusty but some Vaseline helped the axles I created to move fairly well. I made some packing straps out of old fire hose (and wasn’t that so not fun to cut to the size that I needed). I used an old pot lid to keep the water in the bucket but the “wagon” wasn’t exactly a smooth ride but it did work and that was about all I could say for it which is more than I had before.

I decided that I couldn’t afford a day to rest up. My food wasn’t going to last but a few more days and my cough had grown considerably worse. I went to sleep as soon as the twins were fed and decided to get up after their dawn feeding was over with. We all cleaned up … relatively speaking … and I loaded everything the best way I could. It was still raining but I didn’t see as I had any choice but to move on.

It was very slow going. Puddles covered deep potholes that had developed in the blacktop. I started walking straight down the middle of the road because it was the highest point, had the fewest puddles, and the fewest potholes. It also left me feeling the most vulnerable and exposed, but to what I haven’t a clue. There was dead silence except for the rain and the occasional bird or squirrel fussing about the weather.

The twins weren’t fussy; they mostly slept. But I had to stop pretty often to feed them. If felt like a milk truck. And I was constantly thirsty despite all of the rain on my face. I wound up putting a cloth over the bucket and letting the rain just go in to try and keep the bucket filled. I’d walk thirty minutes then have to stop to feed the Beans and drink a cup of water. Then I’d walk thirty more minutes, stop and to drink another cup of water. Another thirty minutes after that the Beans would want another drink, etc., etc. Because of this I didn’t get far that first day at all.

I made it as far as this little place called Otter Creek but it was dark when I got there and not a soul in sight. I had been keeping my spirits up by imagining that all I would have to do would be to get to a crossroads and someone would magically appear but … nothing. As a matter of fact it was worse than nothing.

Water was piled up everywhere I looked. The soggy ground made leaving the roadway a nightmare. What few buildings had been at the crossroads at one time were destroyed, some of them looked like it had happened recently. There were big oaks down all over the place. Tree debris was everywhere, so was glass and other bits and pieces. Old rusted out hulks of cars started appearing here and there pushed off to the side reminding me of what I’d found on my original bike ride.

I was too tired to cry or think at that point and it was too dark to do much exploring so I set up camp in the lee of a half destroyed building. It kept all but the hardest rain storms off of us and for the rest I hung the sheet of mattress plastic. It was a miserable night and I began to doubt the wisdom of what I was trying to do but by the time I’d fed the Beans their dawn meal and packed everything up I knew that I hadn’t really been any better off in Cedar Key than I was in Otter Creek.

I told myself, “Stop it. You are that much closer to home and to Rand and Austin and to dry clothes and your own stuff and to the babies’ stuff. Get a grip, put your waders on, and a get a move on.” I wished I had been able to get some kind of reward for that perseverance. The further I went on Route 24 the more problems I had with water and debris on the road. And then I saw my first sign of people … only it wasn’t a good sign.

Hammered into a tree that was across the road was a sign. “ROAD FLOODED FROM HURRICANE BETWEEN HERE AND BRONSON. CHUNKY POND AREA WORSE. CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK.”

Great. I nearly did sit down and have a cry at that point. Instead I sat down, fed the twins and myself and tried to figure out what to do. Really I didn’t have much choice. I back tracked to the last turnoff which turn right and after a couple of miles of back roads, some of which were only lime rock covered, I came to a barely still standing sign that told me I was at CR343. The water was up to my knees and there was no way I was going to be able to go north on the county road. It was still raining and I couldn’t risk getting into deeper water.

I went south on CR343 until I found some high and dry ground under some large oaks that kept most of the rain off and set up camp. There was no fire that night and even if there had been what happened in the middle of the night would have made it a wasted one. I woke up at Belle’s cries to find us lying in a couple of inches of water. I was so tired I hadn’t even noticed as it had crept in. I momentarily panicked until I realized Beau wasn’t crying simply because he wasn’t awake yet. Belle was another story, she wasn’t fond of being wet – something I’d already had trouble dealing with – and it was all I could do to gather our stuff and try and get further down the road in the dark without falling and killing us all.

There were things bumping into my legs as I plowed through the water in the pitch dark and I was glad I couldn’t see what they were because a few of them were bloated and smelled. I don’t know if they were animal or human but neither one appealed to me so I did my best to slog through and pull the wagon without thinking about it too much.

As the sun rose, so did the water. The rain was horrible that day. It had a lot of wind in it and that on top of everything else made pulling the wagon a nightmare. Belle cried off and on all day and so did I. I was so tired and getting hungry. I had hoped to supplement my food with scavenged stuff but this world was a universe away from what it had been a year ago. There just wasn’t anything. I spent that night up on the porch of a long deserted house … along with a couple of rude opossums that didn’t think much of me despite both of us carrying our babies around to keep them out of the water.

The next morning I had a really bad attack of coughing; so bad in fact that I actually gave myself a bloody nose. That if nothing else had told me that I needed to get going because I was not going to die and leave the Beans to be possum food if I didn’t. I had been slogging along, practically catatonic just trying to put one foot in front of the other when suddenly I looked up and there were other people around me, all of ‘em looking just about as bad as I did.

I was losing myself at that stage and I can’t tell then next little bit clearly if my life depended. Basically I had managed through dumb luck or a Guiding Hand to wind up at what had once been the Williston Municipal Airport. The problem was that it was now a refugee camp. No one was allowed in or out of Williston and they weren’t taking refugees in at all … not even a woman with brand new babies who obviously needed some help and badly.

I did manage to get one young group of national guardsmen to feel sorry for me and they hid me in their transport so that I could get through town and to the other side of Williston onto US27/US41. They had a survivor list they said they would put my name on when they were off duty and they all gave me a piece of their rations which could have gotten them in some bad hot water. One young boy, couldn’t have been much older than Austin, was nearly crying because they couldn’t do more for me but I told his Sergeant, who reminded me of Bill for some reason, that if they could just get word to my husband that I was OK and that I was making my way home the same way I’d come the first time that was all that I cared about.

I know in the old days people would have thought that was a cruel thing to have done but this isn’t the old days. Williston was overrun and they told me dysentery was running rampant even in the cleanest households. They did what they could that was within their power and even risked getting in trouble and losing their stripes. Trying to pack me and the twins in with the rest of the refugees could have caused more harm than good under those circumstances. They said violence was bad in the camps surrounding the town so they took me outside of the last checkpoint into the city by about five miles and dropped me off right near Raleigh. They’d have some explaining to do at the fuel depot but the Sergeant told me not to think about it that he’d deal with it one way or the other. I’d rarely seen such a miserable bunch of men … most of them not even men yet but just boys … as that group that watched me walk away that day.

I had to put them out of my head, especially the kid that look like a red headed version of Austin in my imagination, and think of my original route; seven miles from Raleigh to Archer and then another ten to Newberry. I traveled that in a day coming up on the bike but I would be every bit of two this time. I remembered that the last time I had been in Newberry I’d had trouble with rain too and that something about the town had made me scared. But then I decided I would worry about Newberry only after I made it to Archer.

------------------------------------

Wish I could say that everything went smoothly but it didn’t. I was so tired that I got careless and right outside of Archer the wagon tipped over and I lost all the clean water I had in the bucket. I also went down at the same time soaking the three of us and all of my supplies. The acorn bread was history, not that it had been very appetizing but it was a way to fill the void without have to stop and cook. Luckily for me the stuff the guardsmen had given to me came sealed in plastic.

I could have gone further, though not by much, but instead made camp in a building off the road in Archer. All of the buildings had obviously been stripped of anything useful but they hadn’t been able to take the fireplace. I pulled out my pot and started boiling rain water as soon as I was able to get a decent fire built. I hung up all of our wet stuff and then after a dinner of canned fruit cocktail and a little bit of jerky I gave the twins a much needed sponge bath, cleaned their umbilical cords which were trying to fall off by then despite the near constant dampness and let them loll about au natural in the first mosquito free space we’d had since leaving Cedar Key.

I cleaned and refilled my five gallon bucket and cleaned the straps on it and then took my own sponge bath. It was nice feeling clean but it didn’t last long. I was still bleeding and the heat and humidity had me sweating again in no time. I did what I could for my little Beans, fed them, and then made the best nest I could manage so that we could go to sleep.

Actually I went to sleep thinking that maybe I would just hole up in Archer for a few days and hope for the best. That changed real quick in the middle of a hot, muggy, and terrifying night while I listened to a pack of feral dogs try to get into the closet I quickly pulled the twins and our gear into. Every time Beau and Belle cried the dogs would start scratching and banging to get in. It was several hours into the afternoon of the next day before I felt sure enough that they were gone to even crack the door open and see. I didn’t even bother changing any of us … and we all needed it … before getting on down the road through the muck and mud as fast as I could. I didn’t stop for several miles and by that time I was puking what little was left in my guts.

I had also started to bleed more heavily and figured I would have to slow down or stop all together fairly soon or risk something … bad … happening, whatever that bad might be, which is something I didn’t want to contemplate.

A house well off the road provided a temporary haven. Like all other buildings I had seen it had been stripped down to the bare bones but I was at least able to secure it enough for some privacy. I had only meant to rest a few moments but I woke, not sure how long the Beans had been crying and snuffling for food, to the deep dark of night. I would have cried in frustration if I had had the strength. But it was water under the bridge and I didn’t see any way to undo what had been done.

And speaking of water under the bridge, I had to completely bypass Newberry because it was flooded. The rain wasn’t near as heavy as it had been, mostly an uncomfortable drizzle, but whatever had come through before had laid waste to this area, just like it had in others. The drains were either clogged or full. The roadside ditches had filled and overflowed and turned roads and fields into streams and lakes. I couldn’t risk it and wound up detouring to the west and through the residential areas. I didn’t get far.

I have to admit I was tired and weak and coughing so badly it literally felt like I had cracked a rib. Then off in the distance I saw a small church. The sanctuary had seen a fire up near the pulpit but the vestibule of the building was still intact. The building was up off the ground and gave me a sense of protection I knew that didn’t make sense. I ate my last can of food … fruit cocktail again … and drank all the water I wanted. I washed us up as best I could and hid us in the women’s bathroom rather than lay on the moldy carpet out in the vestibule itself.

I was done in. I hurt … in my guts and in my chest. I was out of food though I still had water. My head felt like it was about to explode and when I had a nose bleed on top of it all I just sort of lost it. I told God that I was done. I’d come this far and He was going to have to provide me a golden chariot … or just a plain old wooden one … to get the rest of the way home. There wasn’t any blame, I was just telling Him like I saw it and that I’d given it all I had and that I didn’t have any more to give. I stopped even asking for my own rescue and just wanted Beau and Belle to make it home to Sparkleberry Ranch. I told God that Rand needed that at least. I told Him that He’d always said He wouldn’t put more on us than we could bear and I was telling Him I couldn’t bear any more and that I figured Rand couldn’t bear not knowing and that Austin needed some looking after by Him too.

I must have mumbled and talked off and on all night. I didn’t realize it at the time but I had started to run a fever. This on top of everything else was sapping what little strength I had left. I watched the sun come up but didn’t seem to have any desire to move. I was in a fog. I watched the sun go down as well, only drinking water.

Part of me knew that I needed to move, that I needed to find people but I just couldn’t summon the urgency that I should have been able to.

I really don’t know how long it was before I heard the voices of men. I kind of remember the Beans had been crying but I couldn’t draw them to me for comfort. I only vaguely remember boots on the steps outside the building but nothing beyond that.

Chapter 99

2010-08-19T06:50:00.000-07:00

Chapter 99

The water closed over my head so fast I never had time to inhale. I sank and sank and … You know, that life flashing before your eyes thing is real. It wasn’t like a movie; more like silent pictures played across the inside of my eyelids. Half the pictures were of stupid stuff that I hadn’t even realized had meant something to me but then a picture of Rand and Austin flashed on my personal slide show and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt I couldn’t give up.

I struggled to the surface but then had to accept that I wasn’t going to make it. And that’s when an arm brushed against me and then grabbed me, dragging me the rest of the way up.

A voice shouted in my ear, “We have to move away! She’s going down and she’ll take us with her in the vacuum effect!!”

The problem was that I didn’t know which direction “away” was. The rain was coming down so hard I had yet to see the face of my rescuer. I felt him drag something over my head and then realized it was a life vest. I could feel some vibration in the water and a deep groan issued off to my left. With that my rescuer started pulling me to the right trying to get back to the cutter but it was impossible.

I’m not sure how long we were in the water but it was long enough for me to realize that the water is only warm at the beach. The water out in the middle of the Gulf is cold enough to sap your strength away. We were swept this way and that with the debris that bobbed up from the sunk slave ship.

A particularly large wave suddenly picked us up and as we came down a piece of debris slammed into the side of my rescuer’s head. Now it was my turn to encourage him, to rouse him when he would fade. And then out of the blue a yellow inflatable rammed us. How my rescuer found the strength to grab it while still holding me will probably remain a mystery until Judgment Day. It was a struggle but I finally managed to climb into the life raft and hold on. But no matter how hard he tried my rescuer could never succeed in getting himself into the boat.

The waves were growing worse and his hands were bloody where the rope sawed into his skin. And he was weakening. He no longer had the strength to even pretend that he was trying to climb in the raft.

Whenever the waves would permit I’d lean over the boat and try to help him but then he said, “It’s no use. I’m done.” I railed at him not to give up. He took something from around his neck and somehow tossed it over mine. “Tell her I’m sorry!” I looked down to see what it was and saw he’d given me his dog tags. I looked up and asked, “Tell who …” But he was gone.

I fell back into the raft emotionally hysterical but too physically spent to express it. The lightning crashed, the thunder rolled, and if the waves hadn’t been tossing the raft so much it would have filled with rain water and taken me down with it. I was left with nothing but to scream and cry out to God, asking … no demanding … to know why he was letting this happen. After all I had been through in my life I thought I deserved a little more consideration. Did God think it was funny that after losing my family, surviving the pandemic, and those first brutal months afterwards he offered me what appeared to be a shot at sublime happiness only to jerk the rug out from under me again? And what of my baby? Was it fair to let that little life come so far only to snuff the spark out before he’d even drawn his first breath?

And then I thought of Austin and of Rand and I stopped mattering. I begged and pleaded, “Just let me get home to them. Just let me get home. They need me. Austin can’t handle losing a mother again so soon and Rand needs to have someone to look after to make it through the day. We need time to fix the mess we left things in or he’ll let it eat at him the rest of his life; the guilt would kill him.”

Focusing on my prayers was the only way I didn’t slide into the madness of fear. And then, though it didn’t seem possible, the storm got even worse. I lay in the raft and I seemed to be rising and rising and rising and then I was in free fall and I hit the water so hard I was knocked unconscious.

I have absolutely no recollection of what happened in the hours after that. Had I been awake I probably would have died of fright. I was never a big fan of open water and storms to begin with and to have to deal with both of those things on top of what I had experienced during the preceding days would have just been too much. In hindsight it has given me a much greater appreciation for the story of Jonah.

How long I was unconscious is also a mystery. By rights I never should have lived to see the sun come up. The hurricane should have handed me over to the keepers of Davy Jones’ locker several times over. At the very least it should have left me adrift in the middle of nowhere to die of dehydration and exposure.

Instead I shuddered awake at the feel of something disgusting hitting me in the head; like a water gun filled with slime. I brushed my hand across my forehead only to have it come away with bird poop. A seagull was resting on the edge of the raft and soon opened its beak to laugh at me.

“Why you …!” I tried to sit up only to feel like something sharp and hot and alive had been stabbed into my abdomen. I shrieked even louder than the gull had.

“No. No, no, no, no! This can’t be happening!! God, did you save me for this?!” I cried.

I finally caught my breath and was able to sit up only I wish I hadn’t. The bottom of the raft had a couple of inches of water in it that was tinged pink. I started crying but stopped abruptly when what I saw in front of me finally penetrated.

The raft kept bumping against some barnacle encrusted wooden posts. I looked left and right but the water line kept me well below the wooden planks above my head. I could see that they were attached lengthwise to some kind of concrete wall but that was it. But this had to mean I’d washed ashore in a town of some kind.

I screamed myself horse trying to get someone’s attention. It was no use, no one was coming. I was going to have to rescue myself.

I pushed and pulled and finally maneuvered the raft to a rickety looking ladder that went from the water line up to the top of the boardwalk above my head. I had just grabbed the first rung when another pain ripped through me. I was getting slightly dopey by that point. “Hang on Junior, Momma just needs to get out of this raft, up this ladder, and find a nice soft place so that you can come into this world. Though why you are in such an all fired rush all of a sudden is beyond me. You aren’t due for a few more weeks.”

Huffing and puffing I finally managed to pull my salt sticky body onto the boardwalk and when I looked around I was nearly sick.

The little town on the water was nothing but a skeleton. I was pretty sure it wasn’t the hurricane that had done it given the fact that it actually looked like a fire had done most of the damage. I was on my hands and knees trying to convince myself that walking was better than crawling to find some shelter. Then I heard something. It was a rhythmic beat of some kind. It reminded me a little of the sound that was made when Rand was chopping wood.

From somewhere I got the energy to head towards that sound, like it was calling me onward, hoping against hope that I’d find people. But the closer I got the less it sounded like I thought it had and when I finally turned the corner I saw a storm shutter banging against the wall of its building in the tidal breeze.

I was fast approaching the point of giving up again but something continued to pull my feet forward one at a time. Just as I reached the door and pushed it open to step inside big, fat drops of rain began to fall as if cutting off any possibility of retreat.

I looked around and realized I was in a little summer cottage, the kind that had been popular in the 40s and 50s. There was hardly anything to it. I’d seen sheds that were bigger than this one room efficiency that measured barely ten by ten. There was a small three-legged table in the corner of a barely there kitchenette, a small brazier that was supposed to be a fireplace, a door, two tiny windows both missing their glass, and a bed … a blessed bed ... pused against the opposite wall from the eating area.

I wasn’t thinking very well, I admit it. I sat on that sheet-less mattress with no thoughts to mold, mildew, or bed bugs. And then lay back and drew my knees up and rocked myself as another pain stabbed me in the gut.

I didn’t pay much attention to how long I lay there I just remember it lasted through several pains. Then from outside I heard a growl that had me sitting bolt upright. I struggled off the bed, made my way over to the door and slammed it shut, threw the distinctly out of place modern bolt, and just managed to push that pathetic little table against it on the pretence that it somehow would keep me safer.

The scare had gotten my brain working again. I knew I didn’t have much more time to prepare. I looked frantically around to see what I had to work with and nearly laughed at the ludicrousness of my position. Nothing, certainly nothing that I could start a fire with, but at least I could get out of my clothes and try and save them against what was going to happen.

As I struggled to remove my one remaining shoe I saw pushed under the pedestal kitchen sink a speckleware dish pan. I finished getting out of all my clothes except my cotton muumuu like undershirt and then, after breathing through another pain, reached under the sink and pulled the pan out. It was a lot cleaner than I had any reason to expect.

Sticking the pan out of the frameless hole that had once held a window I used the rain to wash away what little dust there was and then I filled it and drew it in and sat it on the miniscule night stand next to the bed. That’s it, that’s all the time I had. From that point forward all I remember was feeling like one giant corkscrew of pain was ripping me apart.

After another time warp I lost control of my body and just let nature run its course. I pushed and pushed whenever the urge struck and eventually this baby just sort of gooshed out of me. I had absolutely no real idea what to do after that but I was fascinated with the slime covered package I’d just delivered. I knew I had to disconnect the baby from the placenta that came shortly afterwards. I pulled a string from the hem of my dress and tied it off tightly and then rubbed the edge of one of the metal dog tags on the rough limestone wall above my head, rinsed it in the pan, and then used the newly sharpened “knife” to cut the umbilical cord awau.

It was only after I’d finished that and brought the yowling baby up to nurse like I had seen LauraBeth do that I finally realized I had a son. “Your Daddy will be so proud of us. And just wait until he get a load of you. You may be small but you sure are feisty.”

I was exhausted but strangely unable to settle. All the women that I had listened to had said as soon as they had given birth and made sure the baby had all its fingers and toes they were so exhausted they fell into a dreamless sleep. Not me.

I tried to put it down to the mess. I hate sleeping in a messy bed and a blood soaked mattress certainly qualified as messy but it was more than that. I didn’t know what was wrong but I was beginning to freak out … and beginning to hurt again. I couldn’t tell if my fear was causing the pain or if the pain was causing the fear.

I know I’ve written several times of being afraid since I had been kidnapped, even petrified and ready to die but this fear, there is no describing it. I didn’t know what was going on. My baby was here, I couldn’t get sick, I couldn’t die. There was no one to take care of … to take care of … and out of nowhere I knew exactly what my baby’s name was. There was no one around to take care of Beau. I had to be OK. I had to be the one to put Beau into Rand’s arms.

I felt like I was splitting wide open all over again and then I realized something in a very disconnected way. My stomach had never gotten flaccid, there was something still in there. I pushed and pushed and pushed to get it out thinking I'd somehow missed a descriptive step in one of the books or that there was more than placenta left in me. I even thought, "Tumor." Whatever it was it was so much harder get out than Beau who lay there crying pathetically while I was unable to comfort him. And then finally with one last herculean effort I finally succeeded in gettingit out of me … and it started crying too.

“Two of them?” I thought, thunderstruck at the very notion. “What the heck am I supposed to do with two of them?!”

But I repeated the process of detaching the baby from the umbilical cord and placenta and brought the two babies up to my bare chest trying to warm them since the night air had a weird chill to it despite it being the middle of summer.

A boy … and a girl. Beau … and Belle. As I juggled the tandem nursing the babies demanded I thought, “Rand is so going to freak out. Someone needs to have a movie camera going when I show up with not one but two babies in tow.”

But it wasn’t to be that easy. Sometime during the night I started feeling sick.

Chapter Ninety-Eight

2010-08-19T06:49:00.000-07:00

Chapter 98

No matter how hard I try to focus on details that first day and week is still kind of hazy. I don’t know if it is shock or what but it feels like there are chunks of time missing, or maybe I was just “gone away” trying to deal with my terror.

I remember sitting in the orchard, trying to escape some of the heat. I remember feeling full as a tick from eating the first of the ripe plums. I can even remember how juicy and delicious they were in contrast to my expectations; I was surprised that the drought hadn’t done more damage to them. Rand and Austin had come and gone again and then I heard a noise like they’d come back for some reason and that’s when I was attacked.

A large man back handed me hard enough to set my ear to ringing, cause a gash inside my mouth and bloody my nose all in just a single swat. I tried to grab my gun but it was kicked away from me by another man and in the process it felt like a couple of my fingers had been broken although it turned out they were just badly bruised and sprained.

I remember Fraidy squalling as she leapt from the limb she’d been laying on above where I had been sitting. She raked the face of the man that had hit me and he shouted and threw her off and then shot at her. I was too disoriented at the time to know whether she had been hit but I later found out that she’d collapsed on the spot, bleeding profusely for an animal her size. That and shock is what killed her, I just didn’t know it then.

Before I even had time to register the questions of who and why in my mind a sledge hammer sized fist caught me on the side of the head and that’s all I remember clearly for what seems a long time.

I must have been in and out of consciousness several times because hazy pictures, like phantasms drifting in front of me, give me the feeling that I was lifted up onto a horse and held there in a vice like grip. Then there is a sense of being transferred to small boat, maybe a canoe or bassboat and covered by something that crinkled and smelled bad. But that was the last thing until I came to completely and found myself in the dark. I could tell it was night after I sat up and peered through the small, mesh covered windows used to ventilate the box that I and several other women and girls were being held in. I could also tell we were being transported on some type of wagon by the sound of wheels, hooves, and the creaking the wood made as it swayed.

“Where are we? What’s going on?” I asked the woman I knew was beside me though I could not see her face clearly.

“Shhhh,” several of them shushed. “Don’t make noise.”

I didn’t have time to wonder why because something loud was banged on the box we were in and an oily voice said, “Last warning. One more cluck out of you hens and I’ll pull to the side of the road and let my men use you until you grasp the concept of obedience.”

I felt a hand, a calloused but definitely female hand, cover my mouth. Not hard enough to hurt my busted lip but firm enough for me to get the point that this wasn’t the first warning that had been given and that the group didn’t want to pay the consequences for one captive’s actions.

The motion of the wagon was nausea inducing and I fell into a stupor just to escape feeling ill and frightened at the same time. As a few days passed, and we continued being transported like livestock, I learned that I wasn’t the only pregnant female in the group. In fact almost three-quarters of the dozen women were obviously pregnant but I was the one furthest along. It made no sense but no answers were forthcoming. We were forbidden to speak or make any sort of noise or communicate with each other in any way.

It was a strange existence. We were let out of the box three times a day under heavy guard. While we were out of the box we took care of our bodily functions and were fed surprisingly well. I don’t know about the other women but I was so numbed that I really wasn’t living in this dimension of time and space. I thought of Rand and Austin and everyone else but it was like I existed in a fog that protected me. It was a lot like the fugue state I had survived in after the accident … I was insulated and protected and was able to function to a primitive degree that helped me to survive without drawing unwanted attention. But even in my state however I could tell some of the other women weren’t fairing as well.

On my fourth fully wakeful day one of the women finally collapsed completely. She was one of the pregnant ones. She started cramping and bleeding. The other women tried to hush her cries of pain and fear but I’d gone beyond the level of simple acceptance.

Despite the other women practically begging me to stop I tried to get the Oily Man’s attention. “Excuse me …. Hey Mister … excuse me … we have an emergency and …”

The wagon stopped, “What did I say was going to happen if you hens gave me any trouble?” he snarled.

Forcing myself to behave in an ingratiating way I said, “Yes sir, I know sir but one of the women … she’s bleeding pretty badly.”

There was a great deal of cursing that was followed by, “You better not be yanking my chain you little @#$%& or I’ll guarantee you won’t be fit to serve a man for the rest of your life. Cardo, see if we have a sick hen in the box.”

The guy the Oily Man had called Cardo opened the larger window on the back door of the box letting enough light in that we all had to shield our eyes. One look was enough to convince him there was a problem and he let out a string of foul words that would have peeled paint if there had been any on the box.

It was over in less than two hours and they hid the body of the woman and her stillborn daughter in a shallow grave that wouldn’t have kept out the laziest scavengers. We were all sniveling and crying if we weren’t in shock and that’s when the Oily Man gave another one of his terror inducing ultimatums.

“Listen up you buncha broody hens. I won’t accept the loss of any more profit. You feel the baby coming you cross your legs and you hold it. We’ll be where we’re going in less than a day. Anyone of you do what that one did and before you expire you’ll wish you’d never been born. I’ll gut you and take the baby out of your body myself before I let another one of you spoil this haul for me.”

We were all forced to eat even though none of us had an easy time of choking the contents of the MRE down. But either we all ate or we would all reap the consequences. Peer pressure was how they’d started out controlling us and they still haven’t deviated from that tactic. After that we were made to drink some kind of electrolyte drink and the remaining eleven of us were forced back into the box while my back and tail bone ached in protest.

It still didn’t make a bit of sense to me, none of it did. I’d never heard of slavers that actually sought out heavily pregnant women. It would seem to be a contradiction. We couldn’t do the kind of work that would make our purchase worth it. Certainly we weren’t fit to be a part of some male fantasy racket. And the way they were feeding us and taking care of our needs … relatively speaking anyway … made even less sense. We had nothing in common with the Sabine women of Roman folklore. All I could think of was the stories like the women of Jabesh-gilead, the Midianites, the victims of the Canaanites … all the stories that my Aunt had used to criticize in painful detail the treatment of women in the Bible. I had to stop after that because I couldn’t handle my own thoughts anymore.

It was some hours before dawn of the following day when I started to hear water … big water as in moving water and the kind of wind you only get along a shore line. I hadn’t known whether it was fresh or salt water until I smelled the tendrils of air that penetrated our prison.

The briney smell got stronger and then we could hear and feel the wagon switch from the rutted dirt and paved roads that we’d gotten used to to some type of wooden planks. And then the wagon stopped.

We were left to wonder what was going on because no one bothered to tell us. In fact it was eerily quiet except for the creek and groan of what I was to learn were the ropes that tied a ship to a dock at the abandoned and derelict yacht club where we waited.

After nearly half an hour the back door of our box flew open and we were ordered to climb out and line up. Our only connection to our past soon drove away as the Oily Man and his minions left without a backward glance and were replaced by men that were even harsher. A man whose voice and grammar belied his rough nautical appearance said, “Well ladies, times a wasting. Follow Mr. Hempley to the holding area so you can receive your promised ticket for a free cruise.” When none of us moved the formerly benign smile turned into a shark’s grin. “Move. Now. Some of you aren’t so far gone that the men on this dock wouldn’t be happy to spend some quality time with you.”

We moved.

We were driven into two chain linked cages that reminded me of large dog runs. The first one held all of the non-pregnant women, all young and relatively pretty under the dirt and grime of their captivity. Those of us who were pregnant were ushered to a cage on the other side of a warehouse where we found even more of our kind. Here it didn’t matter what your age or looks were, just so long as you were healthy and obviously well into or passed your second trimester.

Rough looking men walked around with the kind of automatic weapons I hadn’t seen since my run in with the Russians. But these weren’t foreigners. The few times I heard the men speak they had American accents … most of them were kind of mid-west but a few stood out … Kennedy sound-alikes from Massachusetts, Minnesota with their long drawn out O’s, a beach blonde “Dude” from the west coast. The deep south had their fair share of representatives too that sounded too much like home to me not to bring a tear to my eyes.

Every so often two men would come in, separate one or two women out of the group and push or drag them down a hallway where they disappeared never to be seen or heard again. I tried to catch the eye of some of the women but they were all too frightened and cowed to do anything but avoid me. Finally I was too tired and too sore to try anymore. The fingers on my right hand were still swollen and discolored and hard to bend. I found a relatively clean piece of floor, sat down, leaned against the fence and re-entered my protective fog.

I don’t know how long I was like that but at some point I started noticing that I could hear snatches of male conversation coming out of a broken window one floor up from where I sat.

“This will be quite a manifest Mr. Hempley. I do believe that I’ll be able to refill the coffers of my retirement plan as planned.”

A bored snort was his only response.

“And yourself Mr. Hempley? Do you still wish to buy me out as soon as the season ends?”

“Ayuh. You wouldn’t be thinking of backing out of the deal now would you?” A man with a Maine accent asked with a dangerous edge to his voice.

“Oh perish the thought. Why would I do such a thing? I have other plans for my life that do not include this two-bit dog and pony show.”

There was some quiet and then the Educated Man asked, “Any trouble makers in this group? If there are the sooner I know the sooner they can be culled from the inventory.”

“Nah.”

“No there aren’t any or no you think there aren’t any?” the Educated Man asked in a slightly irritated voice.

“Nah, theyah all numb from the shouldahs up.”

I could almost see the satisfied look on the Educated Man’s face. “Good, good. The fewer culls the higher the profit we’ll turn. As it is I have more orders for brats than I could fill in a year.”

I felt my stupor draining from me. Brats? Were they talking about us … or about our babies?

“Got sahm that are close tah poppin.” I was beginning to get extremely annoyed at the casual disregard for humanity in that New England voice.

“Too close to transport intact?”

“Ayuh. Mebbe.”

Again I could hear the irritation in the Educated Man’s voice. “Well, which is it, yes or no?”

“Where I in chahge I’d put ‘em on the next ship out.”

“Hmmmm.” A brief silence and then, “Done. It will mean running heavy on an already overloaded packet but needs must when the devil drives.”

“Barometah’s droppin.”

With the business over with the Educated Man’s attention was on something else. “And?”

“Weathah’s turnin.”

“Oh Lord, not more of your heathen weatherlore.”

“Ayuh, but I’m not the bahsmahn.”

“And don’t you forget it. You show me the money and you can buy me out, maybe even sooner than you think. But until then go get the next packet ready for loading and shipping out.”

A grunt and the sound of a chair dragging across a floor and the conversation was over with. Trying to appear nonchalant I looked around to see if anyone else had heard and not one of them appeared to have done so until I looked into the eyes of a dark skinned woman who was also leaning against that part of the fence. Our eyes looked questions at each other, hers wiser than mine. I looked at her belly and she was even bigger than I was.

It took fifteen minutes but she slowly maneuvered until we were near each other. It was another few minutes while she repositioned herself and pretended to sleep while the guards passed by our position. I nearly jumped when she finally whispered from nearly unmoving lips, “We’ll be next.”

Looking around I saw she was right, we were the only two that looked big enough to fit the description of being ‘ready to pop.’

I nodded as I scratched my nose. I hid my lips behind the same hand, “Do you know what they mean?”

It took forever but I finally pieced together her disjointed phrases and my own questions uttered like code so that no one else would be able to tell we were having a conversation. “These slavers, they kidnap pregnant women and sell them to these places called brood farms. One of the pandemic vaccines given in Europe during the second wave seems to have affected the fertility of a significant number of people that got that particular shot. So many children were lost and there are still plenty of people in the world with money to buy a baby to raise as their own and inherit their wealth.”

“If it was a vaccine given in Europe what’s the problem here?”

“A lot of rich people went overseas to get the shot that the FDA refused to approve and import for US distribution." As soon as she said it I vaguel remember the scandal of it when the cat was let out of the bag. "It did protect people from the second wave but when the third wave rolled around some mutation in the virus got mixed up with the vaccine antibodies and it attacked the reproductive organs of the vaccine recipients.”

“How do you know this?”

“My brother is a radio tech in the Army in the Keys and I worked at the Base medical center. I got taken during a pirate raid to take out the Station on Key Largo. I’ve been here longer than most of the others you see in this pen. My husband was a Norwegian ex-pat and I made the mistake of thinking that it would be harder to place a bi-racial child and I hoped to hold on long enough to be rescued. Only it turns out the reverse is true. My baby is considered an ‘exotic’ and the bidding really gets jacked up when they have one that is guaranteed.”

I was … well I don’t think there is a single word in the English language that described what I was at that moment, mostly though my mad was coming back and erasing the protective fog I’d been drifting along in. I still had enough sense though to hide it when I was ordered, at gun point, to take my own walk down the long hallway.

Something must have shown though because at the end of the hallway the body that belonged to the voice of the Educated Man stopped me and my escort. “Hmmm. Looking a little … militant. Are we going to have trouble with you?”

I did the first thing that popped into my head. I started breathing faster, closed my eyes shut tight and muttered, “I’m not going to be sick. I’m not going to be sick. I’m not going to be sick," like I'd never heard his question.

A rather contemptuous look followed by a jerk of his head telling us to move along told me that I’d managed to pull off my subterfuge. But my anger was warring with my fear as I was taken onto what looked like a pleasure craft that used to take cruises out into the Gulf. It wasn’t big as far as cruise ships went … one of those dinner, dancing, and gambling boats they used to scam the tourists and retirees with … but it was bigger than anything I’d ever been on.

I was taken to and then locked in a room with several other pregnant women. A few moments later the woman I’d been whispering with was also ushered into the room. The only positive to mention was that the room had a bathroom attached to it and it was used well and frequently by all of us. A few hours later we were given food but my new friend – her name was Taylora – shook her head and only played at eating while putting some of the fruit and sealed packages into her pocket. I pulled the same ploy while the other women acted starved to death and fell on the food like hyenas.

“What gives? Is it drugged?” I whispered.

I could see her nostrils flare while she looked at the other women, “No. You don’t have much experience of being on the water do you?”

“No,” I whispered back.

“Trust me, until you know how your stomach is going to act the last thing you want to do is fill it up with unfamiliar food.”

Made sense at the time. Made a lot more sense after we had headed out into open water. Taylora and I were the only two not puking our guts up as the waves got rougher and rougher but it was close for both of us. The smell and the sound of retching was almost more than I could stand.

Then it started to rain and thunder. Taylora appeared frightened for the first time. She crossed herself and said, “Someone has lost their marbles. We need to find a safe harbor and fast. This is some bad ju-ju. Can’t you feel it?”

“Yeah but maybe they’ve figured it out. We seem to be going a lot faster than we were before and … ACK! … Lordy, what is the deal with trying to operate this thing as a wave runner? We’re too big for wave … oomph … hopping!”

Taylora and I both would have been knocked to the ground if she hadn’t told me to make sure I always had something close at hand to grab in case a freak wave rocked the vessel. The other women weren’t quite as lucky though and now instead of being able to puke into the toilet or sink they were heaving onto the floor where they’d fallen.

Then there was the sound of an explosion. Taylora shook her head. “This isn’t right, the engine is the other direction. I hope those fools haven’t let any explosives just roll around in this storm.”

And then one of the starboard windows gave a huge crack as something slammed into at high velocity. Taylora shouted a fairly imaginative curse regarding the origins of the male species and told us all, “Get down and stay down! We’ve got some fools shooting at us!”

Now you could hear the sounds of large caliber, automatic weapons going off and frantic running up and down the hallway outside of our locked door.

“Taylora, let’s try and get the door unlocked!” I shouted above the chaos.

“And go where?!” she asked like I’d lost my mind.

“No where for now but at least it would give us other options! What do we have to lose?”

The only problem was there wasn’t anything left in the room that would make a good weapon. I took off my boot and tried whacking at the knob but because of my hand and the rocking of the boat I couldn’t hit it hard enough to do any good. And then suddenly there was a huge noise and it felt like we’d hit a sand bar or reef or something.

I only got it partially right … we hadn't hit, we'd been hit by something but that something was another boat ramming us. All of the women screamed and cried and prayed to whatever they believed in. Only Taylora and I seemed to still be capable of constructive thinking. A battle raged over our heads and then it got closer. Occasionally a bullet would penetrate the thin walls, once even coming close enough to me to crease the calf of my leg. I was down on the floor with Taylora trying to tie a makeshift bandage from strips off both of our dresses when there was sudden silence.

Then the boat did some kind of strange twist followed by a sudden list to the port. That got the other women screaming again. Taylora and I helped each other to our feet and I had just drawn back my arm to go at the door knob again when the door was actually wrenched open from the other side.

An apparition stood in the door frame and said, “Ladies, we need to go … now!”

Several men in sailors’ uniforms rushed in and started hauling the gapping women out and up the stairs to the main deck. Taylora and I struggled up the stairs both of us gasping for air and holding our stomachs by the time we’d reached the last one. That’s when Taylora bent over and groaned.

“Taylora?” I asked, worried for my new friend.

“Oh why didn’t I listen to my mother?! She said if I married Jarl all of our sons would be born on the water. I am so going to kill that man!”

A pink faced boy that didn’t look as old as I was got a panicky look on his face and asked, “Ma’am? Are you say …?”

Taylora squinted at him and asked, “What do you think I’m saying boy?! I’m in labor!!!” before nearly falling over.

“Medic! Medic!!!!” the boy yelled, his voice cracking.

“What’s the problem Murphy?” asked the man who had busted down the door after running over.

“She’s having a baby!”

“No kidding … oh … Oh @#$%!! Here, get her over to the railing. We need to get these women off. The storm is growing worse and she’s starting to list badly.” Even as the words left his mouth the boat shuddered and shifted under our feet and the rain was now coming down directly onto the deck making it slippery.

The calm removal of the woman from the damaged vessel suddenly became chaotic and the screams and cries of the women competed with the wind and rain that had definitely grown worse.

Taylora was across as were half the other women when one of the lines linking the cutter and slaver vessel snapped injuring two of the sailors on our side. They were sent over and then the rest of the women went across, each accompanied by a sailor to try and speed up the evacuation process. Then it was down to me and the last sailor.

The waves were fierce and the salt spray stung my eyes so bad I could barely see. Both ships were rocking and even over the roar of the storm I could hear how tortured the ropes sounded. And then the slaver ship seemed to completely give up the fight and started listing to the port and showing its underside. I held my breath so long my chest hurt as the cutter was pulled over. As fast as they tried to bring us on board it wasn’t fast enough. The tension finally broke, the remaining ropes snapped and the sailor and I dropped into the waves below us.

Chapter Ninety-Seven

2010-08-19T06:48:00.001-07:00

Chapter 97

A young girl nudged Rand, waking him from an accidental doze.

“Peepaw, you promised after you finished your glass of tea you would tell us the rest of the story of your first true love.”

“Oh I did did I?” he playfully teased as he hugged his sweet little granddaughter. He looked over at his daughter in law and saw that she was about to “rescue him” from the rest of the story telling but he shook his head. Everyone in the family knew that he’d been sensitive about what had happened for years, still was if he was honest with himself. After they’d stolen his bride away and her big and pregnant he’d gone through a bad time that took a long while to get over. He’d turn hard against anyone that he thought was a threat and he wasn’t near as generous or forgiving when he thought someone was trying to take advantage of him and his.

Uncle George, Ram, Ken, Bill, Mitch … and their families … they all stood by him during the worst of it and eventually, slowly he healed and could once again interact with people without immediately assuming the worst. But here he was, an old man … probably older than he had any right to expect he'd get to be considering the world he’d lived through … and still he’d wake up in the night in a cold sweat searching for his lost bride in the dark of the house.

Austin, despite being just a boy and a young one at that, was a lifesaver during those early weeks and months. He remembered being so tore up there were days he’d have a hard time getting all the farm work done and would have let it go and hang the consequences if he hadn’t needed to be a provider. Even his health was affected and in the fall of that year he got a bad case of pneumonia that almost took him off. But he survived and despite everything Sparkleberry Ranch had grown and prospered.

Austin never did leave home except for a brief spell when he’d worked with Ram. He’d gotten a chance to see a bit of the world but in the end chose to come back and eventually marry a local girl. During that time the rule of land was that if you could fence it in and maintain it then it was yours whether you had a piece of legal paper to prove it or not. When Austin married they’d finally finished fencing in one of the eighty acre plots next to Sparkleberry Ranch’s original forty and they built a little house so that Austin and his wife could have some privacy. These days it was Austin’s sons that did a lot of the heavier work around the home place leaving him to rest on his laurels a bit. Seems people age faster than they use to and when he looked in the mirror in the mornings he didn’t see a man in the prime of his life, not yet sixty, but a grizzled and white haired old geezer that he nearly didn’t recognize.

Last week a rare inland hurricane had taken most of the roof off of Austin’s house and now this house was filled to the rafters with kids and household goods like it hadn’t been in years. As much as he loved having everyone around every so often the children sometimes rattled his nerves. Yesterday had been one such day and he’d sought peace and quiet up in the hidden room, a space that rarely saw use except in times like these. Mostly it had become a repository of everything that no one used but didn’t want to throw out just in case it might one day come in handy again.

He’d been cleaning out and organizing some piles of such debris when he saw her old portable desk. The rain that day had ruined it. He’d tried at various times to repair it but the water damage had mangled the joints, swelled the lid so badly the hinges didn’t work, and thrown the whole box out of square. He’d finally given up on it and he still remembered when Austin carried it upstairs because his inability to repair it and make it like new upset him.

He’d picked it up and when he’d tried to open it the whole thing fell apart in his hands. It shook him up pretty good and as he was picking up the pieces he noticed her journal. When she’d first gone missing he carried it everywhere with him and then after a while he’d practically enshrined the thing like a religious artifact. He flipped through the pages and even found some leaves and flowers that she'd pressed and used as bookmarks. He remembered he’d even written in it once but never had again feeling it was somehow sacrilegious. But there it was again, and in pretty good shape too considering its age and lack of special care to preserve it.

He didn’t have a clue what made him do it but he sat down and read it, once again reliving that first year and remembering all the bad things but finally found he had survived long enough to accept the comfort of the good of those times as well.

This morning the little girls had been pestering him for a story and nothing seemed to suit his mood except for him to tell them about how things used to be. Oh he’d glossed over some of the horrors, they were just little girls and he didn’t want to give them nightmares, but now he’d come to the worst part of the story and he’d been struggling to find a way to finish it. He wanted them to know the truth so they could really appreciate what life had been like but …

“I swear Rand Joiner, nearly forty years and I still can’t get you to leave your muddy boots out on the porch. Look at my kitchen floor. Now I’m going to have to mop it before I can start cleaning this corn so I can get it canned up. And get that innocent look off your face Austin, your boots are just as bad as his.”

Austin grinned, “Yes Momma.” Turning to Rand he said, “I’m going to go check the triticale, see if that back corner of the plot is salvageable or not.”

Rand grumped, “You going to leave me to be the only one tortured for dragging in mud?”

Austin laughed outright at that, “You love and you know it. Momma, if the kids get to fretting you, send ‘em out to the field and I’ll work off some of their energy for you.”

Austin kissed the gray-haired woman on the cheek and left the house. She turned and noticed the book in Rand’s hands. “My word, where on earth did you find that old thing? I haven’t seen it in years. I thought it must have gotten put in the compost pile.”

The little girl was now getting very impatient with the adults. She’d been promised a story and a story was what she wanted. “Memaw, Peepaw was telling us the story of his first true love.”

The old woman cocked an eyebrow at the old man, “Oh he was was he?”

“Yes ma’am. It was so exciting; full of adventure and love and bad guys and good guys and all sorts of stuff. They don’t tell us these kinds of story in school, they make everything sooooo boring. But now he won’t finish, he just wants to take a nap.” The little girl was a little spoiled, she was the youngest of the Austin’s children and they’d gotten lax with her.

“And with that attitude you may never hear the rest of the story. You want me to send you out to the field like your father said?”

The little girl knew when her Memaw used that tone of voice you’d better rethink how you were behaving. “No ma’am. I’m sorry but … but he was just getting to the good part, the part I never get to hear about because everyone thinks I’m too little.”

“Oh,” the old woman said in understanding. She looked over at her husband of so many years and saw he’d been reliving those awful weeks all over again. She turned to the little girl and said, “That was a bad time for everyone Joy. It was when your father was still a little boy. And it was the summer right before Peepaw got so sick we didn’t know whether we’d lose him.”

“But I know that part of it, Mr. Lester has assigned the highschool class to do a recitation of the community history for the county fair tomorrow. I just want to hear about the rest of it … how you escaped and survived and eventually came back to Peepaw and lived happily ever after. I’m a big girl now, it won’t give me bad dreams like Paulie says, I know it won’t.”

Kiri looked at Rand and then reached over and ran her calloused fingers through his thinning hair. “I tell you what Joy, you help me skin this corn out of their husks and help me get all of the silk off and I’ll tell you the rest of the story. We’ll let Peepaw sit and rock a spell and just listen. That sound good?”

And the little girl jumped up and grabbed a large woven basket made from palmetto fronds and put it on the floor at her feet and picked up the first cob and began to husk it with a will. “Yes ma’am. I’ll help do all of it just please, please, please tell the story.”

Kiri just laughed and shook her head and pulled up a chair to do her share of the corn while Rand rocked and listened with half an ear while he remembered what was written on the last few pages of the journal.

July 31st – Rand is finally asleep. He watches me like a hawk and it makes me nervous how intense he is. I move just a little bit and he jumps a mile. Ken was by this morning; the off and on bleeding has finally stopped all together and the fever hasn’t come back for over a week now. He agreed with me that it wasn’t going to hurt for me to get out of this bed and get a little exercise and I thought Rand was going to come unglued.

I finally managed to get him to go check on Pretty Boy for me to see if he was healed up from where that stranger cat had come around looking for an easy dinner. The cat lost in a very permanent way once Woofer got to it but it was costly battle for my bantum. It seems like a lot of varmints have made it their business to know Fraidy isn't around anymore. I still miss her even though I know she was just a cat. I need to domesticate one of her kittens but they are all so feral I haven’t got the strength or patience to tame one of them yet.

While Rand was out of the room I asked Ken about how Rand was acting. “If I had to diagnose him I’d say he was suffering from PTSD. That’s …”

I brushed his explanation off and I told him, “I know what it is, that’s what they thought I had after the accident. But why would he have it and not me? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Kiri, Rand was in … he was in very bad shape while you were gone. A couple of us were really beginning to wonder if we wouldn’t lose him too. I expected him to just fade away or ride off on that horse of his to wander forever looking for you like some ghost of who he used to be. If it hadn’t been for Austin I expect that is exactly what he would have done.”

“I know. You aren’t the first person that has told me that. And I can see with my own eyes the truth of it. But what I want to know is what I can do to help him.”

“There isn’t much you can do except to try and give him some time and understanding. This will either resolve itself or it won’t; either way it is going to take time.”

I’ve tried to get Rand to talk about it some to try and bleed off some of the bad feelings but what do I know? I can remember resisting everyone’s attempts to get me to talk after the accident that killed my family; I shouldn’t be surprised that Rand is doing the same thing. But I am. Rand is supposed to be the level-headed one, the steady one. Now it feels like we are reversing roles and I’m just about too hurt and tired to manage it right now.

I got up to change my gown this morning when I stumbled across my journal. My desk is a lost cause even though Rand swears he’ll fix it for me. That’s a fairy tale if ever there was one but he seems so insistent that I don’t have the heart to try and argue him out of it as a waste of time.

I read what he wrote after that day and it worries me as much as the way he is acting now. I have a feeling that we have a long hard row to hoe in front of us. Mrs. Withrow, who came by a couple of days ago, says this whole area does. Between the storm damage and the civil unrest that reminded everyone of the worst days after the last pandemic wave there is just so much work to be done and nowhere near the resources to get it done like there used to be. The abandoned properties have long ago been picked over and picked apart for scrap building supplies, firewood, or burnt down to deal with rodent infestation. The remnants of the government and military are almost solely focused on trying to keep other countries from pilfering what resources we have left. Ram was saying the other day that we can’t count on recycling forever, that we have got to rebuild some type of manufacturing base or we are going to really fall back into the Dark Ages and that it might last longer than the first one did.

I guess I’m still weaker than I want to admit because to even start thinking about all of that stuff makes me physically ill. And when Rand notices it, especially after someone has come for a visit and I’ve gotten a little bit of a view of what is going on beyond my own front porch, he starts swearing up and down that there isn’t going to be another visitor come through our door until they learn to watch their mouths.

I’m still finding it so hard to understand how I could go through what I went through and come out better off than Rand has who only experienced it from the outside. Wait, that isn’t fair. He just experienced a different part of the situation, a different facet. This is so confusing. Maybe if I write out what happened I’ll be able to understand things better, more objectively.

Chapter Ninety-Six

2010-08-19T06:47:00.001-07:00

Chapter 96

June 15th –

I swear that I’ll find you. If it takes the rest of my life Kiri I will find you. I won’t let it end this way, I won’t let this end at all. I feel so guilty Babe. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t here when you needed me … again. When Austin and I got back and couldn’t find you I didn't know what to think. I got mad; I thought you had gone off on your own. But I know you wouldn't be this cruel, you wouldn't have gone this long, worried me like this, if you could help it.

It was Austin that found the blood in the orchard when he heard Woofer start howling. We did everything we could for Fraidy but it wasn’t enough. I don’t know how I’m going to tell you when you get home that your poor cat is gone.

I saved your journal. It got a little wet in the rain but not too bad. I swear I didn’t mean to read it, not at first. I was just cleaning it up, setting your pen and ink in their slots in the portable desk, putting everything back together so you’d know where it is when you get home. But once I started I couldn’t seem to stop. It was like falling in love with you all over again. I learned things about you that I never knew. So many times you worried for nothing and the times you should have been worried it doesn’t even seem to have registered. We have a lot to talk about. Soon. When you get home.

The raiders are all over the place. There are so many of them. There was some kind of escape off of one of the prison barrier islands and they let loose some of the prison barges. It’s been like being swarmed by bees. I need you here, where I can see you and know you are safe. Where are you?!

Ram is crazy. Crazier than he normally is. He and Bill, they’ve interrogated a few men but no one knows what we are talking about. There’s been rumors … seems like the slavers are joined up with the escaped convicts. I pray that you are safe. You have to be. You need to come home. The baby will be here soon and I want you to sit down and rest before that happens. You have to be here so I can take care of you, tell you I'm sorry ... so we can make up.

Austin is finally asleep. He’s so shook up that he doesn’t know whether he is coming or going. I wanted him to go stay with Uncle George but he nearly came unglued at the mere suggestion so I didn’t push him.

I haven’t been able to sleep. I can’t sleep. How am I supposed to sleep with you not here?

Chapter Ninety-Five

2010-08-19T06:46:00.001-07:00

Chapter 95

Jun 4th – Things have been real quiet. We were supposed to go to church today but the weather has looked so scary that Rand doesn’t want to leave Sparkleberry Ranch. I can’t blame him. I hate when the sky has that nasty green tinge to it. Still no rain but I’m thinking we might see something soon; there has been some really odd, cold breezes come out of nowhere.

June 5th – I’d no sooner written those words last night than we had a brief hail storm followed by a heavy down pour that lasted almost an hour. It was scary the way the wind whipped and shook things. Rand went out this morning and two huge limbs were in our road. He used the mules to pull them to the side and then he and Austin went to check on folks.

It wasn’t good. Not many people saw the hail but the heavy down pour caught a lot by surprise. Momma O’s family was okay and so was most everyone else on our side of the county but word at the Shack was that down in Mayo and further south outside the county in Bell and Trenton, the damage was pretty extensive. Lots of downed trees. Both the rivers were able to hold the water and keep any flooding at bay. Maybe that was the reason for the drought, so that the rivers and streams and ponds would be low enough to hold the rain to keep something worse from happening.

I’m just beat all to pieces. Scared myself for one. I thought I really was in labor but with both Rand and Austin away I didn’t have any choice but to let things be whatever it was going to be. But it stopped. It must have been that false labor, those Braxton-Hicks contractions, that the books and the other women have spoken to me about. The worry did more harm than the scare did.

I never realized, not really ever given myself a chance to realize, that I’m scared. I’ve hurt before and I know you survive it, especially since I know that it will be over with at some point, but I’m scared all the same. To think that some little person is going to come out of me, possibly ripping me to up in the process … I can’t tell you the dreams I’m starting to have about it. If I write the dreams down it means that I’m going to have to admit to being scared.

I haven’t told Rand about it because I already know he is scared and worried. He hasn’t said as much in so many words … well, maybe a little … but he’s been trying really hard not to show it. He still thinks about LauraBeth and what she went through. And I think he thinks about the other stories we’ve heard about how the birth is going OK one minute and then suddenly there is some major emergency and no one to help with it. Sometimes the stories still come out all right but a lot of the time they don’t. I guess that is why the old cemeteries are so full of babies and women who have died giving birth to them.

Gak … morbid. I just have to have faith. But at the same time I can’t be blind to what might happen … not what will but what might.

I’ve been making a notebook. I haven’t told Rand about it, nor Austin. It is a book about a lot of stuff that if something happens to me, the last of my family, I would want someone to remember. Most of the stuff in the notebook is good. And it has been good for me … therapeutic … to remember it and write it down. But some of the stuff hasn’t been good. But, it has still been good to write it out. It is the kind of stuff that teaches life lessons, about my mistakes that I don’t want my kid to repeat.

If something does happen, that notebook will be for whoever is left … the baby … or Rand. Gosh, I’m making myself cry. Better stop before Rand asks why.

June 7th – I’ve finally got everything for the baby finished. All the stuff for the cradle and the baby bed. All the little clothes. I’ve gotten the diapers sewn and the little covers to go over the diapers. I decided to do everything in yellow and green. Actually I didn’t have much choice to do everything in yellow and green, it is the only yarn and embroidery floss that I had in any quantity.

I finished the edging on the last spit up rag as Rand and Austin were sitting down to a late lunch. And get this … Rand asks, “Why are you bothering to put a lace edge on a rag the kid is going to puke on?”

“Because I can. I want the baby to have … stuff to use that doesn’t look like it comes out of a rag bag.”

“But it did come out of a rag bag. Right? You didn’t use trade goods to buy something like that … did you?”

So what if I did. I contribute plenty to the stuff that goes to the Shack. I don’t know why Rand had to get so bent out of shape about it. He’s never acted that way before. I don’t know why he had to act that way today. He got all snippy and started lecturing me … me of all people … about being more frugal and being responsible.

I was so surprised that I just sat there and took it. Then he got up and stomped outside and went back to work. I sure as heck don’t know what burr he sat on.

June 8th – Rand is still foul and now I’m foul. We got in this really big … well it was big but we had to whisper so that Austin couldn’t hear us … argument. It was after we went to bed last night. He wanted to cuddle and I have to tell you I was just too tired and hot to cuddle and well, one thing led to another and he started acting all weird and saying stuff that totally isn’t true. Like I only think of the baby. Or, I never pay him that particular kind of attention anymore and don’t want to either.

Personally I think he’s lost his marbles or something. I’m fat. I’ve got stretch marks that are competing with my scars, neither of which will ever go away. I’m hot. No matter what I do I can’t get away from it. I can’t even enjoy a cool bath anymore because Ken says that it might not be such a good idea. I’m so big and so far along I can’t get in and out without a lot of help and I could get hurt. None of my shoes fit so I’m barefooted or in tired sandals all the time which shows my legs and only a couple of pieces of my clothes fit … and that’s if I don’t mind that they’re so tight you can see my stomach ripple with the baby moves. And I feel like I have an alien inside me. Yeah, I’m going to feel like doing that sort of stuff when I feel like this. Right. Sure I will.

We’ve only been talking to each other because we don’t want to upset Austin. I suppose that is something to work with but still … first the lecture on money like I’m some kind of spendaholic bimbo and now he acts like I don’t have any consideration at all for his feelings.

Oh no … more thunder. That’s all we need.

Jun 9th – Rain. And rain. And some more rain. Either Rand is going to go out of this house for a while or I am. I’m so mad I could just about spit. You know, if he is scared that is one thing but he’s making me feel like I’m disgusting or something and I’m … I’m …

I think I’m gonna cry. What did I ever do to wind up in this kind of situation?

June 10th – Wash day … in the rain. It was either wash or watch all the dirty clothes mildew and ruin. Rand acted like I was out of my mind and then complained that I had laundry strung all through the house like a hillbilly housewife … and threw in the barefoot and pregnant remark just to get a little dig in.

We aren’t speaking to each other at all now. He made me so mad I threw a pair of his wet underwear at him and they caught him in the face and the look of surprise caught me off guard and I started to laugh.

Then he really went off how I didn’t appreciate anything. That he was stressed out and it was shaving years off his life and had I seen that he’d actually started having gray hair and … and then I lost it and left the room and went upstairs to the hidden bonus room and locked the door and had a long cry.

He did try to come up a couple of times but I was still pretty wasted and I screamed at him to stay away and leave me alone since I didn’t seem to suit him anymore. He stopped after a while and I guess I fell asleep on the pallet up here. I got up because I had to use the outhouse but it was too dark and the house was all locked up so I used the bathroom that Austin uses at night.

He just went to bed, left me up in that hot attic space. I guess I can’t blame him. I don’t know what is wrong or what we are coming to. I thought having a baby would be joyous and happy, make us even more of a family but it is so scary and it seems to be doing just the opposite.

I’m so tired I just don’t know what to do anymore.

June 11th – Church day. Doesn’t seem any day is restful any more. I couldn’t sleep hardly at all last night. My back was killing me and I doubt I’ll sleep much tonight after what I heard at the services.

Bandits are getting really bad. You can't go anywhere anymore unless you are armed and most people won't travel alone anymore either ... and won't leave their homes unattended. The cause is supposedly the drought that has ruined a lot of peoples’ gardens. People have reverted to taking what they need whether anyone else wants to give it to them or not just like after the collapse.

The heat, the humidity, the drought followed by these intense rains we’ve been having, the bandits … the news is sobering. I didn’t like the news but at least it took my mind off of my own troubles.

Then the service. Talk about guilt tripping. I swear I wonder how Ken knows just what to preach to make me squirm. It was all about family and how husbands and wives are supposed to treat each other, how men and women are supposed to act. It made me feel worse because it didn’t look like Rand was feeling anywhere near as guilty as I was feeling.

I was so uncomfortable on those old metal chairs. Rand snipped at me to stop squirming and distracting him. I felt the tears welling up and he looked like he was so satisfied by that. I escaped to help with the dinner on the grounds as soon as I saw some of the other women leaving. As soon as I got to the tarp that had been set up all I heard from several ladies was, “Aw Honey, we didn’t expect you to help. We didn’t put you down for anything. Why don’t you just go back inside.”

Well, going back was the last thing I wanted to do so I wandered off behind the building to find a little shade even if I did have to fight the mosquitoes for a share of it.

“Child, come out from them bushes. You’re gonna get chiggers if nothing else.” Nothing like Mrs. Withrow’s commonsense to put me in my place. “Now, you walk with me over to that fountain and you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I didn’t say anything was wrong,” I protested.

“You’re mouth didn’t but I can tell it all the same. And that husband of yours doesn’t appear to be acting himself either.”

I was going to lie to her. I really was. Then it all just came pouring out. All of it … how I was feeling, how Rand was making me feel, how only thinking of how I felt made me feel selfish and therefore worse, how I didn’t understand why Rand was acting like he was acting, just all of it. I kept waiting for her to laugh or tell me I was overreacting, that it was nothing but hormones.

“Come here child. Let’s go sit on that bench over there.” When we were settled, neither of us particularly comfortable on the hard stone, she said, “Now, I can’t tell you why Rand is acting like he is acting. It does sound out of character. Could be for several reasons or he might not have a good reason at all. He might be tired. Or he could just be worried about all the new responsibility that will be coming his way with this baby … and he could be scared that he might be facing those responsibilities on his own if the Good Lord decides to call you Home. Do you want someone … maybe Ken … to speak to him for you?”

“No!” I told her. “Definitely not. I can only imagine that would make it worse, embarrass him … and me. I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong. And If I’m not doing something wrong, what the problem is all of a sudden. I mean the world might be going crazy but Sparkleberry Ranch was a place that … that separated us from all of that. It was out there but it didn’t come home with us. Do you understand what I mean?”

She nodded her head like some kind of wise Buddah, “Sure do. Your house is your home and your home is your haven from the world.”

“Exactly,” I told her.

“But you know you can’t just run away and hide from what is going on. And Rand is out in it more than you. He’s more than likely bringing the worries home with him and you are sensing it even if you don’t know for sure what you are dealing with.”

“So that means that I’m the one not cutting him enough slack.”

“Not necessarily,” she said. “Like I said, I can’t speak for Rand. I do remember what it felt like to be this far along. And I imagine you are pretty worried about what is shortly to come.”

“It’s … it’s not the pain, not really. I’ve lived with pain off and on for a long time … well, a long time to me. I know that pain comes and pain goes. I think … I think I even have the idea of being a mother down now. Austin helped with that a lot. So did remembering my own Momma and how … how she wasn’t perfect but she loved me with her whole heart. I don’t know what it is exactly … just kind of a feeling of … of impending doom.”

“Why child? Why do you think you feel this way?” a thread of concern in her voice.

“Because the other shoe always drops,” I told her finally putting into words what I’d only been dancing around even when I talked to myself. “Things always happen to take away … to take away … “ I couldn’t finish it. Then I whispered, “I’ve been happier these last months than I think I ever have been my whole life, even with all of the bad stuff that has happened. But nothing lasts forever. Nothing. At least not in my experience.”

There. I’d said it. Nothing lasts forever.

I think she was going to say something but then there was a scream, not of fear but of anger. Mrs. Withrow and I moved at about the same speed these days so we limped our way over to where the ruckus was going on. There was a crowd and I heard a woman’s voice screaming, “I don’t care! Take it away!! Get rid of it. I don’t want it!!! It just about killed me and now it is sucking the life out of me. I can’t take this anymore!! If you don’t get it away from me I’ll do something to it. I swear I will!!”

“Oh dear,” I heard Mrs. Withrow whispered. “It’s that woman from over on River Road. She just had a baby … her man left a few months back and hasn’t come back … her mother has been worried about her, said the birth turned her brain.”

“It” turned out to be her baby. The only time she would calm down is when the baby disappeared from her sight.

Then another woman went and picked up the baby where it had been flung to the ground and drew it to her like it was the most precious thing in the world. I saw her look at the man with her with pleading and pain-filled eyes. Mrs. Withrow whispered to me, “That’s Margaret Timberlake. She had a baby girl but it died the next day and Ken still isn’t sure why. It only just happened. Look at her dress; she wants that baby so bad.”

Mrs. Timberlake's bosom area was drenched and likely not from sweat. I guess the baby crying had made her milk start up and all the emotions and everything with it.

It was two hours before things were settled. We stayed the entire time to continue the dinner on the grounds, people need to eat and this was the only really good meal some of them got between services, but also because Rand had been asked to be a witness to all the papers and everything that the Judge eventually wrote out and had both families sign and the witnesses too to make sure no one was being coerced.

The little girl, called Daisy, was going to go live with the Timberlake family for at least a year with no recourse by the birth mother. This was to ensure that Daisy would be nursed until she could be safely weaned with no danger to her health. At that time the birth mother had one week to make known her intentions to ask for Daisy to come back to her and the request put before the Judge and a group of responsible citizens of the district. If she did not object, or was found to be an unfit mother for some reason, the adoption would become permanent. The birth mother’s parents were heartbroken until Margaret Timberlake said that she would never think of excluding Daisy’s maternal grandparents from her life and hoped, that if their daughter ever did take Daisy back, that she’d be allowed to keep in touch with the little girl.

I don’t see that it was a perfect solution, given all of the unknowns of the future, but it looks like the best one that could have happened with the options that were available. I overheard several women discussing the possibility that the birth mother was suffering some kind of post partum psychosis. There used to be drugs and psychotherapy to help women that suffered from that. I bet there were a lot of women who were locked up in asylums in the old days that could have suffered from something like that. Rotten hormones causing a chemical imbalance in the brain … you didn’t have any say over it happening or not. How horrible to have to protect your baby from yourself.

June 12th – From bad to worse.

I’m sitting here in the orchard trying to catch a breeze after check on the plum trees. That hail storm didn’t help them but the damage doesn’t look catastrophic now that the trees have had a few days to heal. But that isn’t what I was going to write about. It has been a rough morning and it is either sit down and write it out or just fall down.

If it wasn’t bad enough at church services yesterday, news of a major raid at the Henderson Ranch had us scrambling this morning. You know the raiders are bold and arrogant if they did something like that. Rand was called to help first thing this morning. I didn’t want him to go but I couldn’t very well tell him not to, Mr. Henderson and Mitch and the rest of them have done so much for us. And it bothers me that we still haven’t quite made up though we are being carefully polite to one another. I hope that is a good sign. I’ve determined that no matter what Rand and I are going to talk it out tonight.

He and Austin came back for a few minutes to let me know that it was mostly OK. Some injuries but the attack was so odd. Maybe they were desperate but they did more cosmetic damage to the ranch’s wall than real damage to the ranch itself. Rand and Austin went back to help clean up some more and to try and see if they could figure out the weirdness.

That’s odd … they just left and now here they are again. Why would they …………………….

Chapter Ninety-Four

2010-08-19T06:42:00.000-07:00

Chapter 94

May 23rd – Blueberries, blueberries, blueberries …. Actually I’m having a blast and probably shouldn’t be. The last two days Alicia and Brendon have been over here and I’ve had so much fun. Brendon was grinning like a fool when he came in and found us both acting silly. Last night when we went to bed I asked what was up with Brendon acting so … so … like it was such a surprise. Rand said that Alicia has been real slow to come back from her brother’s death. It has brought up a lot of unresolved stuff from her childhood.

I get that. All of my “unresolved issues” started after my family was killed and I still run smack dab into it every so often, even now. Thank goodness Rand understands and gives me room to get my head on straight when I’m having a bad day. Looks like Brendon is taking a page out of his playbook and doing the same. I’m just glad Alicia is coming around. If I could have picked a sister she is pretty close to what I would have picked. We don’t get in each other’s business but we are certainly more than friends; a weird feeling for me considering that isn’t something that I ever thought I wanted.

She and I traipsed all over the place while Brendon watched the baby. Well we traipsed as far as all of the parcels of land that immediately surround ours – finding wild blueberry patches and sparkleberry patches to piece out the domesticated blueberries in the orchard. We did that early in the morning and then in the afternoon we preserved them. We had to walk since I can’t ride the mules but we did have one of the burros with us to haul the berry buckets and all the water we had to carry. We were totally drenched in sweat by the time we got back to the house both times. First day I was fine but today I had to rest before I could start lunch and then start on the berries. No berry picking tomorrow though which as much fun as it has been I’m ready to let go of doing.

I think between the last two days we have gotten about all the blueberries we are going to get. The dry weather hasn’t done us any favors. Neither have the moochers. Well, I know that might sound a little mean but it sure does seem that people are just doing stuff because they can rather than because it is the right thing or not. On the other hand it is hard to justify being mad at someone for picking berries when it isn’t on your land. I’ve heard that some folks have set watches on patches of berries that they’ve staked out. I’ve even heard of berry rustling of all things. Getting in gun fights over a few pints of berries just seems pretty extreme but more than one feud seems to have started over it.

With the weather people aren’t much better off than they were this time last year. What they are however is wiser in the ways of surviving and being self-sufficient. At least most of the people from around here are; some of the immigrants still not so much since they’ve been surviving on handouts at the government camps. Surviving means getting out there and finding it yourself which in turn means to support your family you have to cover a pretty large area. So far no one has actually come onto our land – maybe my reputation does some good after all – but Rand worries that it is only a matter of time. Desperate people will act desperately.

May 24th – Isn’t it strange? I talk about desperate people and how Rand was worrying and sure enough doesn’t someone have to go and act stupid. Maybe I shouldn’t write anything like that down. Too many times I’ve caught myself wondering about something in this journal only to have it come true a little bit down the road. Makes me wonder if there really isn’t something to the concept of jinxes.

I overdid it yesterday for sure and was all used up by the time I finished writing in my journal. My problem was that I wasn’t just done over by the heat but all that bending up and down had caused my back to ache. Every time I tried to lie down something would start pulling. I knew from experience that when my back was drawing that bad I might as well get up and just sit on the sofa until the muscles relaxed enough for me to go back to bed.

So there I am sitting in what amounts to my all together, swollen ankles all splayed out and wearing the thinnest and shortest sundress I’ve got and nothing underneath if you catch my drift. I had just finished putting a fresh sheet on the sofa, sat down, and leaned my head back when Woofer pads up to me and makes that weird noise he makes when he needs water or to go out to hit the bushes. I had just gotten semi-comfortable and wasn’t happy about having to get back up.

I eventually leavered myself up – no small chore – and stumbled to the kitchen because by then a cool drink of water was sounding good to me as well. The pump is by the side door and I heard a bang. Woofer immediately goes into guard mode, pushing against my legs like he is trying to back me out of the room. All I’m thinking is that I’m going to have me a Coon Skin Jacket next winter if they’ve gotten into my flower pots again. Only, upon closer listening I realized that raccoons don’t curse … at least not in a thick Boston accent.

First voice asked angrily, “Plan on waking the dead Phil?”

“Hey, isn’t my fault these hillbillies don’t pick up theyar yad. I thought you sod that the wada would be easy to lift,” another man hissed.

“This is the one that is able to irrigate his fields. He can affod to miss a liddle,” responded a third man.

Back to the first one who said, “We not gonna get a thing if you fools don stop with your nonsense. The well must be around heeya someplace.”

I waddled as fast as I could to the bedroom and shook Rand awake while Woofer kept watch. Of course the looby thought it was the baby and I had to yank on his ear pretty good to get him to stop acting like such a guy and actually listen to me.

“Ow! God almighty girl, do you have to do that?!”

“Then will you stop it? I’m not having the baby. And be quiet, I heard someone outside the kitchen door,” I hissed practically inside his ear.

He stopped dead, shook himself, and got down to business. After listening to me whisper what I’d heard he said, “Wake Austin up then I want you to get upstairs.” I opened my mouth to object and got the look that said to not waste time arguing. “Don’t Kiri. I can’t think if I’m worried about you and the baby.” Throwing me a bone he added, “And if you are upstairs you might see something I miss from the ground. Now go.”

I got all right but I wasn’t too happy about it. On the other hand I’m no fool even though I may act like one on occasion. I wanted to keep the baby safe and I didn’t want to take any of Rand’s concentration away so that he and Austin could stay safe. Humph. Still didn’t mean that I had to feel good about not being able to provide Rand with any back up. And I still don’t. I feel more like a liability every day. I’m used to carrying my own weight but as heavy as I am right now … and the why of it … there is no way I’m going to be doing that for a while.

I didn’t see any of the action but I heard the commotion, especially the five live rounds that went off, and it was one of the hardest twenty minutes of my life to wait for Rand to give the all clear. I came down to find Austin and Woofer standing guard over two men while a third had been drug a little ways off, obviously dead from a shotgun blast to the chest.

It was a long night after that. The men trying to plead their case and us doing our best to ignore how pathetic they sounded and looked. Austin was the one that told me only the dead man had fired on their side and he had reaped the reward for it too.

“Momma, he really meant it. I could tell from the look on his face. He was angry. Real angry.”

Austin has got into the habit of calling me “Momma” in times of stress. If he is thinking about it, or there are other boys around, he still calls me Kiri. I didn’t let the men or Rand see but I gave him a hug and thanked him for looking after Rand and Woofer and helping us to defend our home. I swear if he didn’t turn around and give me the same look Woofer does when you find his itchiest spot and scratch it until he is content.

At first light Rand rode out and caught one of Mitch’s patrols going by. It got a little complicated after that. Used to be that we could deal out justice without anyone outside the community getting involved and even though I still have the occasional nightmare from the hanging I’ve come to terms with the necessity of it. But these men were migrants and claimed to be under the protection of the men in charge of the military camp.

From there we had to wait until some MPs could come out and get things cleared up. Those two men would have been better off keeping their mouths shut. I was … well not horrified by their fate or anything like that but I was sure as heck surprised. Seems the three men had gone AWOL after being issued passes to attend the Swap Meet. Word had just come down that austerity measures were in effect. From now on if someone was caught during the commission of a crime AND found to be AWOL they were to be immediately tried, convicted, and put on the nearest boat out to the barrier islands or prison barges, whichever was closest and least crowded. That is all but a death sentence for most folks.

See what happens is that those places are like prisons without walls or wardens. Supplies are shipped in weekly, assuming there are any supplies to ship. Whatever the population was they had to make it last the whole week or use whatever snares, traps, etc. that they’d been able to cobble together to live off of the sea life that surrounded the prison.

The prison barge is worse than a barrier island; some of the populations on the barrier islands are actually making something of themselves, have gardens, and a thriving barter system. The barges are just plain nasty and remind me of that old sci-fi movie called Escape From New York. If you aren’t crazy when you get put on one of those and you live, you’ll be next to crazy when you come off.

The whole situation has taken up most of the day and I wasn’t too happy or comfortable having strangers coming and going from our land. It isn’t that we hide away from people on purpose but I like my privacy and Rand and Austin have come to appreciate it as well. Not even Mr. Henderson or his men come around as much as they used to. Guess they’ve got too many other irons in the fire. Rand says they’ve got problems of their own.

Mr. Henderson isn’t ailing exactly but he isn’t coming back from being hurt the way a younger man would. There is this whole “preparing the heir for his power” kind of thing occurring too. Mitch knows his stuff out in the field for sure but I guess there are still family things going on behind the closed walls of the ranch. And Mr. Henderson getting married so late really shook some folks up even though the relationship was an open secret for years. None of my business really, at least so long as whatever the problems are doesn’t roll down hill to us.

I’m just glad our bit of trouble is over with for now. I’ve only catnapped today and I’m feeling particularly heavy, like everything is starting to shift. Uncle George came by to check on us when word reached the Shack, so did Ram, and Pastor Ken also came by. They all keep looking at me sideways. What? Do they think an alien is going to pop out of my belly at any point? Serve them right if it did. I’m getting ready for this baby to pop out myself.

May 28th -- Had a really nasty storm come through day before yesterday. Just what we needed to top off an already sour time. Seems those immigrant men had families and they were trying to set up some kind of homestead to take them to. It is a bad, sad business. Rand told me one of the boys went AWOL to come hunt us up and was asking over at the Shack. Luckily Ram took the boy aside and held onto him until he calmed down some and could hear the explanation of what had really happened.

The boy is still angry but Ram doesn’t think he’ll get violent. Besides, he made the boy an offer he couldn’t refuse. He offered him a job down in south Florida as a courier of sorts on one of the supply trains that Ram is an investor in. If the kid sticks it out he’ll be able to earn more than his father could have stolen in a much shorter amount of time.

“Ram! A boy?! I thought you told me those supply trains were dangerous.”

“Yeah, and you’re such an old woman,” Ram snorted at me.

Still upset I tried to continue, “But …”

“Kiri, don’t tell me my business and I won’t tell you yours. Giving that boy a job, even if it is a dangerous one, will keep him out of trouble and away from the family. I get tired of having to sleep with one eye open every night.”

“Then don’t get involved in such shady business deals.”

“It puts food on the table Hermanita … for all of us. You like the spices and stuff that I bring you don’t you?”

More than upset I said, “I hope that you aren’t trying to buy me Ram. That’s insulting.”

“No … no Baby Sister, not that. I hope I’m smart enough to know that you are the last person whose affections could be bought. But think on this … I like being able to provide those things to you and the others. And I like the profits to be made even if they are at a slight risk to me.”

I rolled my eyes, “Slight risk?”

Ram just smiled and shook his head all machismo and testosterone. He’s just impossible to reason with. Not having to worry so much about sugar is nice but I could learn to do what was needed with the sorghum if I had to. I like the spices and stuff that he is shipping in from the Caribbean too though I’m not really sure I want to know how he is pulling that off. I don’t like that the last shipment he brought in included several barrels of rum but almost everyone, even Mrs. Withrow, all but told me to stop being such a prude about it. I guess there are always going to be trade offs but seems to me that sooner or later all the little risks are going to catch up and something bad is going to happen.

But for now it is the storm that has taken up most of our time. The little bit of rain we got out of it certainly wasn’t worth all of the wind damage we suffered. And there was a lightening caused fire in Columbia County that got up into the city proper and did no small amount of damage to the buildings, even if they were empty.

Rand and Austin had thinned out some of our woods felling trees for the fire wood that is so necessary for every day life nowadays. Even still, we lost to good sized oak trees when they just laid over from where their roots had died back because of the drought. We also had one snap off at the top and blow down across the main gate. Now that was a mess. The metal gate is mangled and Rand isn’t sure that he can hammer it back into good enough shape to re-hang. That’s a kick in the pants we didn’t need.

The roof was also ripped off the goat shed in several places. Rand said he’ll just have to make it with wooden shakes to replace to the asphalt shingles that had been on the roof. There are a couple of large cedar trees growing in an area that he wants to turn into another field for next year. He’ll saw the trunks into lengths that he’ll then split lengthwise. I asked him if he had ever done it before and he said, “The summer I worked for Bud and Lou. A lot of Mennonites still do everything old school. They aren’t necessarily opposed to using some stuff that is out on the market, they just … “ At that point we got interrupted by Mitch Peters and Hoss coming down the road. And shock of all shocks Cassie was with them.

“Hi!” she sang out just about as cheery as I’ve ever heard her.

Cassie is a lot nicer than I gave her credit for being in the beginning but there still feels like there is a gulf between us. Not what I would call a bad one just, I don’t know if we’ll ever be “best buds” or anything approaching it.

Rand met the group on horseback while I waddled around to the kitchen side to make sure there was cold water and some cups in case they were thirsty. The weather was hot enough to steam vegetables still on the vine and everyone was wringing wet from sweat.

I was coming out when Cassie came around the side of the house and took the pitcher from me. At least she left me the tray and cups so that I didn’t feel completely useless. “Here, let me get that. I’m surprised Austin isn’t around to help.”

She didn’t mean it the way it sounded, that was just Cassie’s way. “Rand has him out trying to round up a little bull calf that was born a couple of days ago. He’s worried at how the mother isn’t letting it nurse enough. She’s an ornery thing to begin with but if she keeps this up she may be burger before this winter. We need another bull but we don’t know which of the two that were born that we are going to keep yet.”

Cassie nodded knowledgably. “Poppy is having the same problem. This drought is stressing out the cattle. We’re having to move them between pastures pretty quick so that over grazing doesn’t happen. It isn’t like we can go down to the feed store to pick up new seed.”

“Is your grandfather irrigating the fields?”

“He is considering it but that is a lot more time and work for our people not to mention that much water would need to come from the river. Two of our creeks have dried up and Mitch is worried about stressing the two ag wells we have managed to keep going, we need them for watering the animals.”

We walked up as the men were discussing the damage the storm had done. Even with the goat shed and the tree over the road we got off lightly. Lots of drought-stressed trees have “laid over,” some of them in inconvenient or dangerous locations.

Hoss told us, “A tree came down on the orphan barracks at the refugee camp in the middle the storm completely crushed one end of the building. Destroyed about a half dozen bunk beds before it was through falling. Lucky for the kids though that it was a slow fall and the barrack monitor heard it when it first hit and got everyone out before anyone got hurt. But they have a mess to try and rebuild. Those kids always get the last of everything.”

I noticed Cassie was standing next to Mitch with a really angry look on her face all of a sudden. Before I could open my mouth and ask she burst out, “If they’d just let the folks around here that have offered to take them it have them those kids never would have been in danger to begin with.”

Mitch put his arm around her and drew her close like he was trying to calm her down or comfort her. “Cassie, easy now. Hoss checked and Lola wasn’t hurt. She didn’t even wake up apparently, just go carried out in her sleep.”

Apparently everyone but me knew the story. I elbowed Rand gently and after figuring out what I meant he clued me in. “Oh, yeah, you weren’t there that day. Lola is one of the orphans. What she’s four?”

Cassie said, “Three. Her mother just up and went AWOL with one of the river men and never came back for her.”

“Anyway, Mr. Henderson takes stuff over to the camp when he can and sometimes they bring some of the orphans out to the ranch to play. Lola has an older brother that wants to come work for Mr. Henderson … he’s good with horses and would like to learn to be a Ferrier. Problem is he is only thirteen and the rule is that kids have to be fourteen before the feds will let them sign up for a work program of any kind. He comes to the ranch every chance he gets and he started bringing his little sister.

“You should see her Kiri, she is the most adorable little thing. And smart … she already knows most of her alphabet. She minds better than most of the ranch kids do.” Cassie gushed, a look of adoration on her face.

Even Mitch nodded, “She is a cute kid. Follows Cassie around like a puppy. And it looks like she might have the same talent with horses her brother does. Most little kids don’t realize that even the foals can hurt them. We had a mare that got in a bad fight with a stallion when the dang mule got his dander up and broke into the paddock where we keep the new mothers and foals. We had to pull her out so we could see whether we’d have to put her down or if she could be patched. The foal got scared and then I’ve never seen the like … Lola went up to the fence before anyone even thought to stop her and started talking to that foal and if you believe it the little fella just calmed right down and leaned up against the fence where she was the whole time until we came to fetch him to take him to put in the stall beside his Momma.”

Not that the story wasn’t interesting but I thought seeing Mitch put his arm around Cassie and the way those two were acting even more so. Rand just shrugged his shoulders when I asked him what was up so that means a trip to Momma O’s or some questions for the ladies at church this coming Sunday.

May 29th – Too dang hot to write.

May 30th – Still too much heat to make anything worth doing. Heard from Pastor Ken … that man seems bent on pestering the life out of me … that an old man over off of River Road died of heat exhaustion. No one knows much about him. He was a squatter that moved into what was left of the old Harbinger place. Ron had gone over to check on the place when he found the body. He’d been dead a couple of days and apparently the dogs he’d kept had been at him. How Ken could tell he’d died of heat exhaustion I don’t know, maybe there are signs on the body that don’t disappear in death.

That was nasty bit of news. Also some bad news came that the river folk are getting restless and moving inland again. I’ve said many times that most of them are decent people but they seem to be easily stirred up by the bad fish amongst them. The Suwannee River is running very low as are several other rivers. Because of the drought crop production is down so even if they could navigate the rivers they wouldn’t have much to transport.

Rand said the heat is making everyone testy if not actually downright nasty. It’s just too hot to ask the mules to pull the heavy thresher long distances and when Rand told a man that had ridden out to get him to bring the thresher the guy just went berserk . It scared Austin who was up at the end of the road with him clearing the fence line so that they could run a new fire break. I’m getting a little tired of how entitled people feel to take advantage of our good fortune. Rand is smart and we hit the ground running when it came to setting our place up. I don’t want to be uncharitable but why should that mean that we simply give away what we’ve worked so hard for? Sharing is one thing but that is a two-sided coin with each party giving and getting. Some people, like that man today, seem to think they have the right to just take what they want and offer whatever they feel like in return, if anything at all.

May 31st – That man from yesterday came back today and this time he brought friends. I’m still shaking. Rand and Austin had gone up to the road early to do some more of the fence line. We let it go too long and it is a horrible mess in some places and they were restringing the barb wire in a couple of sections as well because it had become stretched out or actually broken. I fixed a basket of biscuits and a jug of cold ginger fizz for them (not as good as store bought ginger ale used to be but on a hot day you don’t really care) and I was going to drop it off to them and then head on to Momma O’s to see if she could help me figure out what I was doing wrong on a bodice of this little baby overall I am trying to make.

Rand has a set of stairs for me to get into the pony cart that I hook the most docile burro to. I was thinking about what I could have done wrong … I cut down a larger size pattern but nothing seemed to be working right for some reason … and was going slow because the last thing I wanted to do was have the baby by jiggling him out head first on a rough wooden seat. The burro wasn’t inclined to go fast anyway considering how hot it was.

Actually it was a good thing I was going so slow otherwise I would have turned the corner before I was aware of the trouble I was driving into. The men had Austin by the arms and Rand and some other guy was going at it pretty good. I recognized the guy egging the fighting on as the guy from yesterday. I was in a quandary what to do … sometimes just a female showing up with make the guys knock it off … but when I saw the one guy getting his gun off of his horse I kinda took the Kiri road mentally.

By the time I was down from the pony cart … it isn’t getting down that is the problem so much as getting up into it … I heard a lot of rough laughter and when I peeked around the tree at the corner of the road they’d swung Austin away and to the ground. A guy was getting ready to kick him and I aimed for his head but hit him in the rear bumper instead. Talk about your fancy stepping. He reminded me of the old sound clip where the Disney character named Goofy falls from some great height.

The rest of the idiots made grabs for their guns and I just didn’t even bother to try and figure out exactly how hostile they were. I just emptied the magazine one shot at a time. Only three of them wound up being death shots, but I did enough damage with the rest of them to make them knock off what they were doing. I was in the middle of reloading when Mr. Henderson himself road up with several of his men.

My stomach got real tight and all I could do was sit down on the ground right there … thank goodness not in an ant pile … and try and stick my head between my knees to keep from being sick. I didn’t even realize it but one of Henderson’s men, I don’t know which one, had ridden back to see who’d been shooting. Next thing I know Rand is there, not quite a bloody as I expected, and he was putting me in the back of the pony cart. Between there and home I made him stop so I could sit up and puke, not once but twice.

I’ve been in bed since with Ken hovering around like a doggone vulture. I’m not ready to have this baby so it can’t come out yet. I still have the bed linens to finish, more diapers to try and make, and just everything. I’m just not ready and that is all there is to it. And now, on top of everything else, I’m on bed rest again.

June 2nd – I’m on ultra light duty for the duration. Austin helped me to plant the okra, black eyed peas, and some sweet potatoes that Rand got in trade. I don’t know why we are planting, no rain. And tell me why, even though I haven’t done much I am so tired?! Gosh I’m cranky. I don’t even feel like writing anymore so I’m not.

Chapter Ninety-Three

2010-06-14T15:02:00.001-07:00

Chapter 93

May 12th – I swear this heat is driving everyone a little crazy. The lack of rain isn’t helping. Rand is getting really worried. So far we aren’t having any trouble with our well but I know for a fact it is a deep one because my parents put it in. But the pond the cattle use has shrunk by about fifty percent. That has meant more pumping into their thingies they drink out of … I think this heat is frying my brain too. Or maybe it is being pregnant. I guarantee it feels like my IQ has dropped by about 75 points on some days.

Mostly it is the crops that Rand is worried about most. Even though it is a lot of work I can water my gardens by hand the same way it was done last year but the larger fields with the grain crops are another matter completely. From what we hear people spend most of the day, every day carting water and trying to keep their kitchen gardens going. The field crops are being let go to whatever their fate is. And people are hoarding their grains. Rand will bring the thresher to the next Swap Meet but there is going to armed guards because there are rumors that some folks are so desperate they plane to storm the place and take what they want.

Rand thinks he has a solution for our own fields. It won’t be easy … or cheap in trade goods because he’ll need some parts we don’t have … but on paper it looks like a winner. He was looking in some old ag business textbooks he has and he came across a picture of a horse drawn irrigator. He thinks he has the mechanics figured out but he wants to ride over to Uncle George’s to see what he has to say on it. He also hopes to hook up with a couple of the old timers at the Trade Shack at the same time and maybe one of them actually remembers using one or their father using one. I can’t stop him but for some reason I get the willies lately when he and Austin leave me all alone which is really, really stupid. I’ve spent years all alone, so what it up with my hormones now?

The baby isn’t due for nearly eight weeks yet. Wish I could shake off this weird feeling I’ve had lately. Even if the baby comes a month early everything should still be OK. Ken says I’m healthier than I have any right to be all things considered and that I’m a lot healthier than a lot of the pregnant females he’s been seeing lately whether they be of the human flavor or the animal flavor.

This heat and drought on top of it is really starting to wear us all down. Ken has lost weight again and I wish they would figure out a way for him to have a clinic for most days of the week. Say he could have the clinic three days a week, he could make house calls two days a week, and then he’d have two days to devote to being a preacher man. Instead he tries to do both seven days a week and it is taking its toll on him. I startled him by reading him the riot act for once. And you know what the man did? He laughed. That’s right he laughed at me. Honestly, what does he think he is Teflon coated and bullet proof?

You know what Ken needs? A wife. Someone that will boss him around for his own good, make sure he eats properly, and will do what it takes to nail him in place when he really shouldn’t be going out and doing good deeds. I know there are a lot of women that like to make sheep’s eyes at him but I’m not sure the ones I’ve met would know what to do with him if they caught him. I said as much to Rand and he got all loopy and romantic but I’m beginning to wonder if he didn’t get up to all of that to distract me. I mean, I like being distracted by Rand but it is kind of irritating to realize how easy he can do it. I nearly forgot about some muffins that I had in the oven.

Today was baking day and I swear I nearly passed out from the heat at one point. It got so bad that I had to go lay down but there wasn’t much relief there either. Rand and Austin dozed on the front porch and about 1:30 or so it was like the world just shut down for about an hour. Not even the chickens were out scratching for their dinner. The only sound to be heard was what I took to be the withering of what little grass is left in the front yard.

My sole constructive contribution to the day, beyond my regular chores, was to try out a new recipe I found in the very back of one of Momma’s recipe books that Daddy brought her back from one of his TDYs to California, or at least that is what it said in the front of the book. “To Punkin from Pistol …” and a date and location. Daddy would bring Momma back things like that rather than jewelry or clothes. He knew what she liked and it was tourist stuff like coffee mugs, shot glasses, or spoons of the sights he’d seen.

I already do what I can to cut down on the use of our wheat flour but if this drought doesn’t let up the ground is going to be real dry this coming fall and winter when we are supposed to plant again. Most of our big grains fields have already been harvested but the sorghum is in the ground and we can’t lose it. The recipe I found uses millet and oatmeal to piece out the wheat flour and it turned out really well. Not quite like a muffin you would have gotten in the old days made out of processed, bleached, and enriched white flour but not so far off as you didn’t recognize it for what it was.

First off I stirred a cup of rolled oats into one and a quarter cup of boiling water and then let that stand for twenty minutes and let it cool. Then I sifted together one and a half cups of flour, one teaspoon of baking soda and a half teaspoon of salt and set it aside. Next, in a large mixing bowl I beat a half cup of butter until it was all creamy. Then I slowly added one cup of white and one cup of brown sugar, beating it all again until smooth and creamy. To this I added two teaspoons of vanilla and two beaten eggs and beat until well blended. It looks like you have a mess but that is OK. I added the cooled oatmeal to the butter mixture and stirred it well to blend. If you thought the stuff looked funky before the oatmeal gives it a quality that I had to stop myself from thinking about as it looked all nobbledy and it set my stomach to rocking. I finally added the flour mixture at that point and had to use my heavy wooden spoon to stir it. Then I added a half cup of millet and Austin said it looked like I was stirring in chicken feed.

I spooned the batter into muffin cups that I had buttered really well, filling the wells about two-thirds full. I baked them for about 15 minutes, or until a straw inserted in the centre of the muffin came out clean. I gently ran a table knife around the edge of each muffin, lifted them out and placed them on a rack to cool. The batter only made twelve muffins but that is enough for us. I’m taking them tomorrow when we go to the Swap Meet.

May 13th – I had fun today, even with the ruckus that happened, but boy am I paying for it. My toes look like sausages and my ankles have completely disappeared. When the girls at school used to complain that being pregnant towards the end made them feel ugly I thought they were talking about their belly and all the weight they gained. Now I’m thinking that it was just a kind of an overall feeling of “Yuck, that’s totally gross” when their body started doing things they didn’t expect.

Rand thinks I’m “really hot looking” which basically means he is brain damaged but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. But even he conceded that my feet and ankles looked a “little swollen.” I felt like I was walking around on clown feet by the time lunch had come and gone.

It wasn’t so bad in the morning. Everyone had agreed to start the swap meet an hour early to try and avoid some of the heat. It didn’t work. As soon as the sun hit the morning sky the heat index started climbing. We opened the upper bay doors on the barn but left the cows inside, left the chickens locked in their run and also left the pigs and goats in their sheds though they had more freedom than the cows did. I suppose it was a hardship for me to go to the Swap Meet with Rand but I … well I really wanted to. I like being home most of the time but I just wanted to get out and see people which was kind of weird since people are usually the last thing in the world I want to have anything to do with.

I put the muffins in a basket and we ate them along the way. Austin must have said something to Rand because he commented, “Hey, they don’t taste like they have birdseed in them.” I guess that was a compliment.

Mitch and Ron and a couple of other men I didn’t recognize met us about half way up our road and escorted us to the Swap Meet. The men all looked uncomfortable but I didn’t understand why and guys being what they are no one was offering an explanation. I looked at Rand and he just shrugged his shoulders.

“Good grief, why has everyone got the mullygrubs this morning?” I asked, my curiosity finally getting the best of me.

My question only made the men squirm and then Ron spoke up in the gravely quiet voice that he’s had ever since the day of the fire. “It’s me.”

“It’s you what?”

Ron looked at me and then his face softened a bit and he said, “Kiri, you know good and well the Harbingers were … well … “

“Oh … well ‘were’ is the correct word to use. You and Stevie are the only Harbingers left. I don’t guess a baby is much of a threat and you’re a changed man so what’s the problem?”

Ron rolled his eyes but since I wasn’t giving up he said, “Memories are long and the things I did were wrong.”

“And … you’ve already done your best to atone for things so I still don’t see the problem. Half the people I’ve met around here seem to have something quirky in their background whether it is them or their family. And if they didn’t before the sickness they have since. We’re all a little on the eccentric side these days if we weren’t before. You’d figure people wouldn’t worry so much about the splinter in their neighbor’s eye when they’ve got a great big ol’ log in their own.”

Ron looked at me and then his mouth twitched and that is just about as close to a smile as he would let himself get. Then he said, “Rand, you ain’t gonna have any hair left by the time you’re my age.”

Rand’s response nearly had me giving him a kiss in public. “Do I look like I’m complaining?” he laughed.

Ron’s response nearly made me cry. “Naw, naw you don’t for a fact. You’re a lucky man,” he trailed off and his eyes got this funny faraway look full of what could have beens and fears of what may never be.

For whatever reason the other men seemed to adjust their attitudes and we travelled the rest of the way much more comfortable silence. I think the general attitude of our party actually set the tone for how people received us. I think it short-circuited a few that were carrying a chip on their shoulders and were looking for a fight.

People looked at the thresher hungrily as we pulled in to the allocated spot away from the general flow of foot traffic but they were keeping their distance and no one appeared to be angry, at least not in the crowd that was there first thing in the morning. Rand got me down and before he could try and figure out a nice way of telling me I was underfoot and in the way I told him I was going over to see Missy. He looked relieved and I had a hard time not laughing at him. It wouldn’t be good for him to know that I’ve gotten a lot better about figuring out what is going on in his head. It might make him nervous or something. Then he’d try to get mysterious and it would only make it hard on me again.

Missy has finally lost all the weight that she put on with the baby. The thing is she has lost even more weight than that and there is even some grey in her hair that I didn’t notice before. She’s still a beautiful woman but it looks like she is aging before her time. Noticing that on Missy made me really look at other people I saw today. I saw a lot more than I wanted to see. The world we’ve been living in for the last two years – first with the pandemic and then with the aftermath of it – hasn’t been kind to people. Grief, hard work, and short rations have taking their toll. Bill’s white blonde crew cut is liberally sprinkled with white streaks. Uncle George … well he’s always looked old to me but even I can tell that he’s looking older than he did before. People are thinner for the most part unless they started out really big and some of those folks that have lost a lot of weight look really bad and there isn’t any way to cover it up.

Momma O was at the Swap Meet and I was really surprised after the way she was acting the last time I saw her. So was Mrs. Withrow and some of the other LA ladies. Mrs. Withrow noticed my confusion and told me, “Honey, when you get to be our age death is a constant companion and on some days when the arthritis gets to you or you’ve heard that another person you’ve known forever has gone on, well, you know your time is coming as well. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have good days too.”

I’m … well, I guess I don’t have any room to talk. I’m not there yet. When I’m old I just hope I don’t freak my kids out with talking about death like it is a neighbor that is coming to call pretty soon. It’s not that I’m afraid to die or anything like that but it just does seem odd not to fight it tooth and nail.

And we did a little bit of fighting it today. It was getting on towards lunch time and most of the locals had come and gone leaving the outsider crowd still mingling amongst the stalls and tables of the people set up for trading. Most of the outsiders are OK and would probably fit into our community if they moved here but there is a rough element that comes around as well. Some of them are from the immigrant camps, allowed out on furlough for the day (guarantee some of them never went back), and some of them were from up and down the river. River folks I really don’t mind; they’re a little on the wild side ‘cause they are out looking for a good time or a good bargain, but where ever these other folks were from they were a bad lot from the word go.

Mitch spotted them first and had his men cruising up and down the aisles but when someone is bound and determined to start a ruckus I don’t guess anyone else’s commonsense is going to stop them. Bill saw the start of the brawl from where he was loading things up in the trailer. He whistled to the men who are his regular helpers and they started throwing things into the trailer to close the stall down.

“Bill, what on earth?” Missy looked up and asked him.

“Brawl. Heading this way. I want you and the baby in the cab … now.”

I guess when Bill used a certain tone of voice Missy listened. Or maybe it was experience. Or maybe it was just thinking about their son’s safety. But when Bill said what he wanted Missy gave it to him.

“Come on. You can … oh, never mind, there’s Austin come running.”

Austin, red cheeked from running in the heat, came barreling up. “Rand wants to know if you’re ready to go ‘cause he wants to get the thresher out of harm’s way.”

That sounded like a plan to me and I waddled as fast as I could as Austin turned to run back to help Rand hitch everything back up for the road. I just don’t waddle so fast and I had to watch double for people … first for me and then for my belly that took up a lot of room.

“Kiri! “ Ron Harbinger went thundering right by me and I heard his horse collide with another one. I turned to look over my shoulder and saw Ron fighting on horseback with another man. I turned around to get going the right direction a little faster when this man stepped in front of me and said, “I know plenty of men who’d pay real gold for a gal like you.”

I don’t know where my brains get to sometimes. I pulled my pistol and aimed it at the man’s rooster parts and said, “You sure? ‘Cause I can be a ton of trouble when I’ve a mind to.”

He snorted and turned to join a fight that had broken out a few feet down one of the aisles and I continued unmolested the rest of the way to Rand who was trying to work and try to see where I was at the same time. It made him look spastic.

“Rand, honestly, be careful! You’re going to fall!!”

“Kiri! You’re here.”

“Well, where else would I be? You asked me if I was ready to go and it looks like everything is shutting down anyway. Seems a shame as the day started out so nice.”

Rand looked at me real hard. “Babe? Why do you have your pistol out?”

“Varmints in the underbrush.”

“Kiri …” Rand started warningly.

That’s when Ron rode up with a cut on his chin. “Those rustlers from south Florida or someone who associates with ‘em.”

“What?! Why those no good … (blip) (blip) (blip).” My teeth nearly fell out. Rand isn’t prone to using that kind of language and to have him to do with what I thought was so little provocation just floored me. I found out what he was so bent out of shape about that it would make him lose his religion after Austin went to be and he could assure himself that I was still here and all right but I don’t feel like going into again. I finally wore Rand out enough that he could go to sleep and now I guess I’m wore out enough too.

May 14th – Oh my gosh! Rand and Austin surprised me so much today. It’s Mother’s Day you see and I never even thought much about it but I woke up with something tickling my nose. Rand had pulled a feather out of my old duster and was using it to wake me up.

Well all that did was make me laugh so hard at how silly he was being I had to rush to the bathroom after he helped me to roll out of bed. When I got back he and Austin had set up a bed table and told me that I wasn’t to do any chores today. And I didn’t … not really. I had to help get the scorched taste out of the green beans when they let the water cook out of them and I saved the cake they were baking from burning but other than that, not a bit of work.

I had a lovely day. I even washed my hair and took some time to just read a book for pleasure … it was an old Trixie Belden book that used to be Momma’s. I thought Rand and Austin had gone for a walk but he came back in and caught me upstairs crying looking at the old photo books of times when things were like they used to be. I miss Momma. Who am I supposed to ask how to be a momma to this baby?

May 15th – I started sniffling and crying yesterday so I just decided to stop writing. It doesn’t bring Momma back to cry about it and I guess it is actually one of those things that does more harm than good to wallow in it.

I meant to get around to telling why Rand was so bent out of shape after the Swap Meet but it is one of those things you don’t like to think about but I suppose after today I might as well go ahead and put something down if for no other reason than to get it out of my system.

Apparently – and this is just a rumor as far as I’m concerned because it just sounds so farfetched – there is a network of men who are trafficking in humans. Can you believe it? Slavery is alive and well. Yuck. It seems that the pandemic and subsequent social and physical upheaval took a heavy toll on women and children. I can almost see why some couples might be so crazy as to want a child for their own if they lost all of their biological children and couldn’t have any more but apparently that isn’t what it is about. It is about work and how much it takes to run a home or homestead these days. When I said slavery I meant that literally.

There are also forced indentures. Say you get into debt over your head, or you want to travel out of an area but it costs more than you have and your aren’t willing to wait, you can sign off on so many years worth of labor in exchange for transportation, food and lodging, security, or just about anything. I just can’t understand why people would bargain away their freedom like that.

But it is the slavery that really gets to me and makes me kind of sick to my stomach. Imagine if Austin had fallen into the clutches of people like that. Imagine if I had on my bike ride from Tampa. Imagine a parent willing to bargain away the life of one child so that the other can eat. I just don’t know what things are coming to. And listening to myself say things like that makes me feel old. I used to not care what things were coming to, I was tired and wanted to be with my parents. I was too wrapped up in my own problems to look around and really understand what was going on around me. Now … now there are days when I you couldn’t pay me to go back to being that person but I sure would like some of that innocence back. It scares me for what my baby is going to have to face in the future if we can’t get a hold of things like that now.

May 16th – My hands are purple. Of course that’s better than having purple feet which is what Rand and Austin have. The blueberries came in after all. I was afraid we hadn’t started irrigating them in time and I went out to the garden early this morning expecting to see them all on the ground and lo and behold the bushes were full of ripe berries. But for some weird reason they are coming ripe all at once. That wasn’t the case last year.

I’ve got a mess on my hands figuratively and literally. I would have called over to the Crenshaws to see if I could get Alicia or someone to come help but that what we get for not having phones any more. I suppose we could have used the radio set up that Rand finished with Bill and Ram’s help but that’s only for emergencies and for listening. The only kind of chatter we hear these days is the kind of stuff I want to listen to. People are crazy and there are all sorts of rumors, most of whom prove out to be exaggerations or outright lies. I can’t stand to listen to it; it gives me a headache.

Besides, at least for today I’ve been busy canning and drying blueberries. I’ll have more to do tomorrow but what I don’t get tomorrow will probably fall to the ground unless I can pick them all and put them in the cooler, then I might squeeze another day in.

And why would Austin and Rand’s feet be purple? That was kind of funny. Rand found a patch of wild blueberries all but buried in the grass on one of the near 40s. He’d hoped to bag some quail but they’ve all taken to the grass because it is so hot. Well he was bent over looking for trails through the tall grass when he spies what he thinks is a small patch but the more he investigated the bigger the patch turned out to be. He finally came and got Austin and they must have picked three bushels in an hour and a half.

What did he do with these berries? Did he give them to me so I wouldn’t have to go out into the hot berry patch and pick them myself? No. He did a total guy thing and if he hadn’t look so silly doing it I think I might have gotten upset. He made blueberry and raisin wine. He swiped a couple of my remaining yeast packets which didn’t make me too happy but since it was the first time in a couple of days I saw him looking actually enthusiastic rather than tired and drained I could say no.

As far as what I’ve been making with the blueberries I made some more blueberry relish because that went over so well that I ran out around Christmas time if I remember right. I tripled the batch on that because I figure Uncle George will want some and I’m also making up some stuff to trade with Ram. I just don’t feel right taking things from him for free even though I know he is doing it because he thinks of me as a little sister. He has a family now too and we both need to be generous but be smart about it.

I dried a bunch of blueberries naturally and I also made a large batch of blueberry fruit leathers. Those don’t keep as long as I wish they did but sealing them in a jar and then putting them out in the cooler ought to help some. Austin deserves to have a treat now and again even if we can’t afford to buy him some of the stuff that comes through the Trade Shack like some of the other parents splurge on. He’s a good boy and I like being his Momma even if it is a big sister kind of mother. He always seems so surprised when Rand or I do something just for his sake and for no other reason. It makes me really wonder how bad he had it growing up. His grandfather taught him a lot and obviously gave him some love but it also seems like he was never first in line for anything.

The other stuff that I made today was blueberry syrup, but I’m making less of that this year because I need to conserve my white sugar that I have left, and then all the different conserves and preserves that I’ve got recipes for. Tomorrow it will mostly be juice I expect. If there is anything left after that I plan on trying to make a blueberry mousse.

May 17th – Nice surprise. Alicia came over to visit and stayed to help with the blueberries. I haven’t seen her too much since Tommy left us. She seems to be dealing with things better but there are still shadows under her eyes. Austin didn’t know what to say to her but she gave him a hug to let him know it was OK. I hope she has started to heal. They say grief is a process. I remember it being like that … and sometimes it is a long painful process.

May 20th – I’ve been too tired to write. But we had some excitement today that I want to mark the occasion of. Rand finished building the horse drawn irrigator … and it works. A couple of the hose fittings leak but Rand thinks he can fix that and it took a while for the mules to get use to the jangling everything does but it does work.

But the dog is a nuisance. Austin thought it was funny but I could tell Rand was losing patience and asked Austin to hold onto Woofer’s collar. The crazy dog was trying to play in the spray of the irrigator like a kid in a sprinkler. I wish he would enjoy his baths as much as he enjoys getting into things he shouldn’t.

As soon as Woofer was under control Rand took the irrigator for a spin in the garden. I asked him how it felt and he said a little more difficult to work than the cultivator but that just meant that he’d need to drive slower. The long arms that fed and held the hoses off the ground will need to be reinforced because they really bounce around making getting an even spray kind of hard but Rand is so happy that he said, “Babe, something is better than nothing even if I have to make two passes to make sure everything gets some. Now so long as the well holds out we should do OK no matter how long the rains take to get here. And now that I know this is going to work I’ll take the plans to Brendon and Ron and they can make one for the farm over there so I don’t have to drive this one across the roads and worry about bending the axle on this old wagon bed.

Salvaging things is getting harder. All of the old homesteads have pretty much been picked clean and those that haven’t have been pulled out and refurbishes and put to work. There are a few people that have converted tractors to methane or ethanol (corn liquor more likely) but they are clunkety things compared to Rand’s horse drawn equipment and prone to breaking down.

Our mules certainly do get a work out. I was worried about Hatchet getting jealous but lately he’s really started settling down. I think it is Austin working with him all the time. Of course he’s still not too partial to me but he doesn’t try and bit anymore which is a relief. Rand still doesn’t want me to go out to the corral unless he or Austin are with me but I figure that’s just fine. I do miss riding the mules but in the shape I’m in I don’t even know if I could get up in the saddle much less stay in it.

May 21st – I wish I could have taken a picture of Uncle George’s face when he saw the irrigator. It was priceless. I guess he hadn’t had much confidence in Rand being able to get one figured out. Ron and Brendon spent most of the morning making copies of Rand’s hand drawings and asking him questions to clarify when the diagram wasn’t clear to them. Uncle George spent the morning going over the whole thing and taking measurements and making a few suggestions for the leaky fittings.

He was in the middle of looking at something when he stopped and yelled, “Brendon, get that bag that Ram sent over for Kiri before I forget about it.”

Brendon is still hops to when his Daddy bellows like that and I guess I would to if my Daddy was here but it’s odd knowing that Brendon is a father himself now. I guess you have to make some compromises if you are going to stay under your parent’s roof.

Almost afraid to look in the bag I took it inside to open in privacy.

Hermana, I know the baby is coming soon and I thought you might could use these. If you don’t need them pass them along to someone who can as there is no way I’m going to let Missy catch me with them. She’d never let me live it down. Your Hermano

A couple of those really expensive books you could only afford to check out at the library slid out of the bag. They looked like they came from some doctor’s private collection. The Process of Labor and Delivery, The Pros and Cons of Natural Child Birth, and others that dealt with emergencies that can occur during a home birth, how to avoid medical interventions like forceps and the pictures nearly turned my head inside out. I’m a prude, I admit it. Maybe I’m a real stick about the whole keeping certain things covered and I know I really give Ken a hard time when he wants to give me an exam but my word. Rand thinks I'm being silly and if he uses the cow and the farmer analogy one more time I'm going to throw something at hime. And Ram is right, this shouldn’t fall into the wrong hands. It's liable to give some poor girl nightmares before her wedding day even gets here. Some of those pictures make it look like the woman is in the middle of some kind of bloody battle. When I’m finished with them I’ll give them to Ken and he can dispose of them as he thinks best.

Missy really would have teased Ram unmercifully. Seems like now that he is married to the right woman he’s turned into a prude himself … at least when it comes to women he considers his family or part of his extended and adopted family. Alicia says that he growls as bad as Uncle George does if some young man gets too close to Charlene or Janet.

I haven’t gotten to see too much of those two except at church and Charlene is always surrounding by a bunch of young men … some not as young as they should be. What am I saying? Charlene and I are pretty close to the same age. Why am I suddenly acting like I’m so much older than she is? Goodness I think I need to get over myself or something.

For instance, today at the church services the boys were buzzing around Charlene as thick as flies. But I’m not so sure that Charlene likes it much. She seemed pretty happy when I went over to say hello which pretty much killed the mood when I started talking about heart burn, flatulence, and swollen feet.

Charlene looked at me very serious and then started giggling and said, “Thank you! I was starting to have trouble breathing. I wish they wouldn’t act so stupid. I’m … well, I’ve decided I’m not ready to settle down and have kids. Life is hard enough helping at home, you know?”

“Like you need to ask me that?” I laughed right back.

“Seriously, you look like you’re going to explode at any second. Daddy was saying last night that folks are laying odds that you and Rand … uh … I mean …”

“That Rand and I what?”

“Well, that maybe you’re farther along than you’re saying if you know what I mean.”

“No I don’t under … oh … oh how awful. You mean they think that Rand and I … before we got married and stuff? But, if that were true I’d have had the baby a long time ago and …”

“Take it easy. Nobody who matters thinks that. And no matter what you say some people are going to have dirty minds. You should have heard some of the things they said about Alicia and Brendon and they really did get caught before they got married.”

“Well I don’t like it when people talk about me behind my back,” I insisted.

“Would you rather they get up in your face about it? They’re stupid and that’s all you need to think about it.”

“That sounds like something Missy would say.”

She laughed again, “Probably. Daddy says I’m getting more like her every day. But it is strange, he doesn’t make that sound quite as bad a thing as he used to. I guess he and Missy have come a long way from where they used to be.”

“Where’s Janet? I thought she would be here today.”

“She had another spell last night.”

Worried I said, “Oh no.”

“Daddy had Ken out last week since she’s had so many lately. Ken seems to think the heat might be setting them off or maybe an electrolyte imbalance or something. Daddy has Ram and Bill trying to find some mineral supplements for her. Last night’s spell was pretty bad. She was half way up the steps when it happened. If Laurabeth hadn’t been coming down from putting Stevie in a clean diaper she might have taken a really bad fall. Daddy is moving her down to the first floor until we can find something that will get the spells back under control.”

We are all worried about Janet. She was getting so much better and stronger and now this set back. Rand told me that Ken seems to think that the “spells” might be an arrhythmia but he’s not for sure because as soon as the “spell” is over with all of her vital signs are normal and he’s never been there while she is in the middle of one of them.

Good brown gravy it is hot. Too hot to write as much as I feel like writing. I’m going to be the one having a spell if we don’t get some cooler weather soon. I feel like I’m being roasted alive. Not even sitting in the shower is helping any more.

Chapter Ninety-Two

2010-05-20T13:19:00.000-07:00

Chapter 92

May 1st – “The bucket brings up what is down in the well.” Words of wisdom courtesy of Momma O yesterday at church. I think what she meant was that people act the way they are on the inside. Bad people act bad because they are bad. Good people act good because they are good or because they are trying with what goodness they have in them to immulate someone else that is even better.

On the other hand it doesn’t mean that you can’t let the mud settle and bring up good water. I guess that is why some "bad" people will occasionally do something good when they try hard enough. Oh geez, now I’m starting to sound like her. Guess you’d call it philosophy, southern-style. There are worse things I can do than sound like Momma O. And it doesn't seem that there is that much time left to learn all that she has to teach. I’m really afraid that maybe she might not be around too much longer.

When I was in the hospital in the children’s wing for so long after the accident I was pretty self-involved; but even then there were things I couldn’t fail to see and learn. For instance, a lot of the kids on the long term ward were chronically ill or even terminally ill. I don’t know if it was being a kid or what but you could tell when one of the kids on the ward was starting to reach the end. It went beyond being frail, we were all frail. Their skin would get this funny color and go all thin and stretched looking. The older kids would sometimes get mad, like they knew they were going to miss out on all of the stuff that their parents and their doctors had been promising them that the next treatment would help them to experience. The younger kids would sometimes get real anxious and worried about their parents and what would happen to the people they would leave behind; they were more worried about them than they were about dying.

Momma O seems to be getting the same way. I got a little cabin fever and finally convinced Rand to let me take the pony cart and go over to see her. Mrs. Withrow and some of the other Ladies’ Auxiliary were there having tea. Every once in a while she’d say something like, “I just hate to go and leave DeLois all of this work.” Another time she said, “Kiri, I’m setting you back some of the heirloom flower seeds. You can’t forget to stop and smell the blooms God sends. Now don’t you forget. I’ve got it written down just in case.”

I didn’t know quite how to take it any more than I knew how to react to the kids when they would get that way. I’m not afraid of death but I’ve lost so much – OK, we have all lost so much – that the idea of losing one of the first people to offer me any acceptance around here just twists something deep inside me. I know better than lots of people how inevitable and unexpected death can be and that it is no respecter of age or circumstances. It chokes me up even to try and write about losing her. She’s been like a … I don’t know exactly how to say it. Not grandmother, not aunt, not mother, not sister, friend yes but more than that, mentor yes but still even more. Maybe all those things and a few more that don’t exactly have a name … an elder woman that offered me comfort, guidance, and most of all acceptance when I had had none of those things in so long. She gave me hope when I thought I'd lost Rand even before I'd ever had him. She offered me a bit of dignity before I could name that that was what I was looking for.

Death is inevitable in this life. No one lives forever. But why her? Why now?

May 2nd – I was planting my last row of black eyed peas when we got the word. At first I thought it was Momma O after getting a look at Cassie’s face and I braced myself but it was something from left field.

“Kiri, when’s the last time you had an MMR?” she asked.

“A what? You mean the vaccination?” I asked, confused at first as to what she meant.

“Yeah. When’s the last time you had an MMR? Can you remember?”

“I had to have one at the beginning of highschool. Why?”

“Think. How long ago was that?”

“During my freshman year … maybe three or four years ago, I can’t remember exactly. I …”

“Are you positive?”

“Well yeah. I had to have a whole slew of boosters because they couldn’t find my shot records from the hospital and Aunt Wilma freaked out and took me to the County Health Center and they shot me up so full of those things that I was sick for two days with a fever and my arms felt like they were going to fall off. Hey, what’s going on?” I asked at her sudden relief.

“One of our ranch hand’s little boys broke out in spots during the night. He was at church on Sunday. Pastor Ken says that it is measles. A couple of other kids at the ranch are running fevers too and so are some of the people my age. I had a booster for college but not everyone went to a college that required it or their booster is out of date. Poppy is really worried and he’s quarantining anyone that can’t prove they had a booster in the last five years. That ‘s almost everyone. Poppy had measles as a kid and his mom was pregnant at the time. He’s youngest brother was born deaf because his mom caught the measles at the same time.”

Of all the things that could go wrong with this baby, that is something I never even thought about. Cassie went on, “Ken is going to be by later. You better keep Austin close until you know for sure. And ask Rand. I can’t remember which one of our old crowd was vaccinated and which wasn’t.”

“Has word gone out to the Crenshaws?” I asked thinking of them all over that way.

“If it hasn’t gotten there yet I’m sure the news is on the way. Hoss said he was going over to his family’s place and he has to go right by the Trade Shack and was going to post a notice there. He went on a mission trip three years ago and had to get an MMR booster before the church would let him be part of the group. We may have to completely lock the ranch down if it gets bad.”

I didn’t mean to but I was in the middle of cooking supper and when Rand came home with the thresher I ran outside and started bawling my head off like a lunatic. I guess it had scared me more than I wanted to admit. I finally calmed down and was just able to save the cornbread. The only bright spot is that Austin was able to tell us for sure that he was vaccinated.

“I know you think I’m just a little kid and don’t know for sure but I do. It was a big fight between my mom and dad. Well, it wasn’t really my dad so much as the Judge. See, Mom rubbed the judge the wrong way – she could do that to people – shouting about power to the people and Mother Gaia and stuff when he had ruled against her on something she wanted. The judge threatened to throw her in jail for contempt and then Mom started saying things like … well, not nice things about how the government was trying to poison us and stuff. Grandpa said that made the judge suspicious and he asked for all my medical records and when he found out I hadn’t been vaccinated he gave a court order forcing Mom to take me to the doctor or lose her parental rights and junk. So I got all my shots. Look, I even have a scar where one of them got flamed and infected.”

Showing us a small round circle on his left bicep Rand asked, “You mean enflamed Buddy?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess. Flamed, enflamed, it swelled up real big. Mom pitched a real fit and screamed she was going to sue the judge. It was an awful mess,” and Austin shrugged as only a kid knows how, like that explained everything else that needed saying. I should know that shrug. It wasn’t too long ago that I used it fairly regularly as my main method of communication when any subject was getting uncomfortable. Why do I suddenly feel like somebody’s grandma? Maybe because I have more to worry about than I ever thought possible.

Ken did come by and the first thing out of his mouth was, “I don’t want you to worry.” Like I’m going to be able to abide by that particular rule. I know that I’m not supposed to worry. Even if there wasn't my stupid blood pressure Ken had preached on it a couple of months back, how it was a sin and all that. Well I won’t call it worry then, I’ve just got a major concern over several items currently going on in my life. There, how’s that for rationalization?

May 3rd – More cases of measles. Laurabeth won’t let anyone near baby Stevie except for Ron. Alicia is running scared because she can’t remember whether she was vaccinated or not, probably not, Tommy neither. She thinks her parents took the religious exemption. Uncle George came around to check on us and he said they’ve set it up so that no one can get up to the house and even the Trade Shack is shutting down for a few days to try and break any potential chain of infection. Scary times we live in.

May 4th – No new cases of measles have been reported but Ken said until a week has passed with no new cases no one should let their guard down. It has me thinking, what happens to all the kids who never had vaccinations or to the babies being born now? What happens when someone gets careless or is exposed through no fault of their own? How many of us will have to pay for someone else’s mistake?

I looked in the old family Bible, the one that Momma inherited when her folks died. My grandmother lost two baby sisters to diphtheria. I knew that Daddy lost a brother he never knew to measles. Momma's oldest brother had polio when he was real little and walked with a limp the rest of his life. Lots of kids died before they should have just a couple of generations back. Polio, measles, diphtheria, whooping cough, lock jaw that goes by the fancy name of tetanus … there are already cases of yellow fever along the Gulf Coast and Ken says we’ve been lucky not to have seen it yet along the river here.

I’m beginning to wonder if I’m ever going to be able to protect this baby from the bad stuff that can happen. Isn’t that a mother’s job? To protect her baby? But what if I do something stupid and thoughtless and my baby has to suffer the consequences?

Rand and I talked about it some after dinner. He’s concerned but there is only so much he can do. He’s trying to keep us fed and clothed right now and give us a little “money in the bank” in case things get tough this summer. Some out of towner paid him in old silver coins to thresh a truck load of wheat and while we can't eat silver it's been set aside for "just in case."

Rand seems to act like he only has ten weeks until the world could be coming to an end again. I’ve seen this calendar he’s made up. Seriously. I don’t have the heart to tell him that Ken thinks I might be further along because I’m getting so big so quickly. But I think that Ken has said some things to Rand that they aren’t letting me in on. Drives me batty.

Coincidentally ten weeks is how much time I’m “supposed” to have until the baby is born. According to The Book … that’s how Rand talks about it like it is in caps … the baby weighs about three pounds. The little spud has eyelashes and eyebrows and is supposed to be able to recognize light and dark and even track light it sees outside its momma’s belly. But it can’t come out and play yet, its lungs aren't near ready.

That doesn’t mean the baby can’t freak me the heck out though because I swear I thought I was going to have the little tadpole this morning. That’s why Ken came by again today. Turns out it was fake labor, these things called Braxton-Hicks. They are kind of like your body is practicing for labor but isn’t really in labor. Ken said I would know when it was real labor because it would hurt. Great. Just what I wanted to hear.

Now I’m off to bed and I hope that I actually get to sleep through the night. Seems like I’m getting up at least once or twice to go to the bathroom now. And last night I even had to wake Rand up to help me get out of bed ‘cause I had to go so bad. Talk about embarrassing. I’m not sure he was awake enough to do much good but give me a little push but it was enough that both of us giggled a little after dinner when I bumped my belly on the table trying to stand up. Austin wanted to know what the joke was. Wish I could have explained it but I’m not sure I understand what was so funny either.

May 5th – Gosh I’ve been so moody lately. I cry for no reason or turn around and feel mad for no reason. I told Rand that he might as well send me to live with the chickens at this rate, at least he’d get more sleep. Then he made me cry buckets by telling me he wouldn’t have me any other way and that as soon as the baby was born I’d feel more like my old self.

I hope not too much like my old self; I want to be better than that. I need to be better than that so that I can be as good a Momma as my Momma was.

For now though I’m just feeling scared. So much death around. Ken was right to have us wait on thinking we’d gotten lucky. The measles hit the immigrant camp. It isn’t the little kids that have it bad though; it is the college age people. That would be people Rand’s age or thereabouts. I’m glad Rand had his booster for college but a lot of his friends that didn’t go to college aren’t sure whether they are still protected or not.

Planted some more okra today but just about passed out from the heat. I can’t get away from it, it follows around behind me like my belly is in front of me. Rand came in from threshing and found me threatening to shave myself ball headed and run around without a stitch on.

He said, “I’d like to see that … the second part, not the first. I’ll go to the Trade Shack and see if they have …”

“No, don’t do that. It’s too late and too hot to do the mules like that for something stupid like this. I just need to lay down for a little while. Can you and Austin eat leftover beans and cornbread? I’ll make a salad to go with it but the idea of heating up the stove again …”

“We’re fine. If we want a salad we know how to fix it. You go lay down in the hammock.”

“I’ll lay down but not in the hammock. Last time I got in that thing I nearly didn’t get out. And besides the bugs will be out soon. Rand I’m sorry that I’m so slow. I’ve still got weeks to go and I’m not being much help at all.”

“Do you hear me complaining?” he laughed. “I might actually finally be able to catch up with you for a change.”

So I did lay down and I actually slept for a little while. Rand and Austin are taking a late shower to try and cool down themselves and then we are all going to go to bed. It just doesn’t make any sense to sit around miserable when we are this hot and tired.

May 6th – Hot, hot, hot. I don’t remember it being this bad last year. Filled the tub with cold water and just wallowed in it like an old pig. I swear, my belly works as well as a life preserver; could barely stay down in the water ‘cause I kept popping up. And no, I don’t find it funny at all, especially when I’m trying to climb out without help. Grrr.

May 7th – Church today but Rand didn’t want me to go. He told me to stay in bed for as long as I wanted. I got up after they left anyway but I walked around the house in as few clothes as I could handle. No one was around to see my scars and stretch marks so I thought I’d take advantage of the peace.

When the guys came home for lunch I had a cold garden salad ready for them. I also had some cornbread and cold buttermilk ready. Dinner was empanadas that Ram had sent over after hearing how much the heat was getting to me. The dirty rat seems to thrive on it. If it gets below 70 degrees Ram acts like he's going to freeze to death so the 90s are balmy weather to him.

But as it turns out I’m not the only one suffering with the heat and that it isn’t my imagination that it is hotter than it was last year. As a matter of fact it is hotter than it has been in several years. People’s gardens are suffering and it is only the beginning of May. There was a special prayer for rain ‘cause if this keeps up we are going to be in a lot of trouble before too much longer.

May 9th – Death, death, death. It seems to follow me where ever I go. You’d think after everything I’d expect and accept it more. But death is the one thing guaranteed to make me feel like fighting no matter what. Rand practically ordered me to bed yesterday. It made me so mad on top of everything else but I didn’t have to do anything because Missy frogged him in the arm really hard for me and told him to stop being such a pig.

She all but duck walked me into the bedroom, calmed me down and I somehow wound up lying down and resting when I hadn’t meant to. I was beginning to drift off when I heard Missy quietly leave the room.

“Ow!” Rand yelled. “Stop hitting me Missy! Once was enough already.”

“Shhh! You deserve it you idiot. You’d think you would be smarter by now,” she hissed back at him.

“Huh?” I heard him ask, more quietly than before.

“How long have you and Kiri been together? You really think she’s going to take the news about Tommy calmly? We’re all a little nuts over it but you know how Kiri is about the boys. Look at Austin and Mick out there. Didn’t you see her? The first thing she did was step between them and that guy that was with Ram and that was before she’d heard the news. I’ve seen her do it before and she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it. Mick told me one time that every once in a while she’ll call him ‘Michael’ like she is mixing him up with her little brother."

“I … I guess I didn’t think. All I saw was that she was getting … You know I worry about her. She can just get so … so …”

“Rand, she’s been through a lot in her life. And admit it, she’s a lot more capable than you want to give her credit for being. Not to mention that you’re just like Dad … over protective.”

“It’s not that. I love that she is who and what she is. But you don’t know some of the stuff … some days she seems so fragile. And with this baby she just seems … I’m worried Missy.”

“You mean you’re scared. Don’t you think Bill was scared before I had the baby … and a few times since. Don’t you think that Dad has gone slightly demented each time one of us get preggars? And don’t you think we all understand how what happened to Laurabeth could happen to any of us? Trust me Cuz, we’ve all been dealing with the boogey-men-that-could-be right along beside you.”

Rand gave a deep sigh, “I know. I … I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to her. And it’s not just because I couldn’t raise a baby by myself either. I’m scared what is going to happen to her if … if something happens to the baby. She hasn’t said much but … Missy, what if something happens to the baby and she gets so angry she wants to leave me to get away from it all? You saw how Laurabeth was. You’re right, Kiri has already fought some battles she never should have had to. What happens …”

I got the sense that Missy had reached out to Rand in some way. “You aren’t going to like hearing this Rand anymore than I like saying it. Sometimes there isn’t a thing you can do about the “what if’s” and you just have to deal with the “what are’s.”

“Easy for you to say,” Rand grumbled.

“No. No it really isn’t Rand. I don’t like admitting it but I’ve had to grow up in ways that maybe I never would have if I hadn’t met Bill and if the world hadn’t fallen apart. I would have been my mom all over again and that would have been a disaster. My step mom wasn’t much better either. She wanted Dad to be like he was and yet she never really appreciated it. Kiri … Kiri’s good for you. She’ll stand up to you without pouting or pulling that passive aggressive stuff that Julia used to. At the same time, she gives into you enough because she wants … well genius, in case you’ve missed it Kiri is afraid of losing you too. Look how she was after those Russians …”

“Yeah, don’t remind me. The risks she took give me worse nightmares than the beating does. Look, you’d tell me if she said anything about … about being scared or whatever? Right? I know I can’t protect her – or me – from everything, but I don’t want her to build those walls of hers back up. I think that is what scares me the most, something happening and her doing what Laurabeth has done.”

“Relax Cuz, Kiri has already walked that road and I think she’s got sense enough to pick a different path if ever faced with something like that again. I only wish I could say the same for Dad and Alicia. They are both so tore up you’d think Dad had raised Tommy was his own and he’s pretrified that Janet is going to go the same way even though that can’t happen since she must have had every vaccine known to man since birth. You know how Dad has always been about that stuff. Between the Vet for the cattle and the Peditrician for us kids, it would have been cheaper if Dad had just gone to medical school himself. And Alicia … she’s so angry she doesn’t know what to do with it all. Brendan took her out to the hay barn, shut the door and just let her beat on the bales out there to work it off. I think she’s got some of it out of her system but Alicia is one of the ‘still waters run deep’ kind of people and it is just going to take a while.”

Rand asked, “How’s Mick taking it?”

“About like you’d expect. I think Dad is missing it. Bill tried to talk to Mick but he’s just shut himself up. But Ron … I don’t know but I think Laurabeth asked Ron to say something and maybe it took because right before we came over here Mick finally sat down and cried some. I was beginning to wonder if he would.”

Even as I felt myself falling asleep while they continued to talk – my body betraying me again or maybe trying to save me despite myself – I realized that Rand really was a whole lot like Uncle George, in ways I’d never really seen before. He could be over protective to the point of making me a little crazy sometimes. Maybe Julia liked that, heck even I like the idea of it if not the reality, but it isn’t healthy and I’m glad I’ve put my foot down a few times … for both our sakes. And I have a feeling that Rand has put up with a lot from me that another guy wouldn’t have just like Uncle George put up with stuff from his wife. It gave me something to think about besides poor Tommy.

When I woke up the late afternoon sun had already run to the other side of the house and the room was pretty dark. I was disoriented at first and then I remembered. Oh God. Tommy. Poor Tommy.

He hadn’t been feeling well but no one really remarked on it. He is … was … so pale and fair and the heat never did do him any good. Everyone just thought that was what it was, and it may have been at first. No spots so there wasn’t anything to worry about, or so was thought. Then in the night he woke Mick up having some kind of seizure. Missy said that Ken called it a febrile seizure. Missy said his temperature went over 105 degrees F the few times they could actually get a reading because he kept having the seizures. Not even bathing him in fresh well water would bring the fever down.

There isn’t really anyway to say for sure but apparently Ken said that Tommy had one of the rarest of complications from measles – encephalitis. That’s where your brain swells. It only happens in about 1 in 1000 cases, but it does happen. That’s why measles can be so dangerous.

I asked them how they had known it was measles when he didn’t have spots. Bill, who had brought Missy and Mick over, said that Tommy had Koplick Spots inside his mouth. Those are little white spots that are the precursor for the red rash that breaks out on the body. I never knew any of that. It is scary how much I don’t know.

Today has been about like you would expect. They buried Tommy last night. I know that seems like a rush but what choice did they have in this heat? No funeral homes, no ice houses … the alternative is pretty well unthinkable for me. I had a nightmare about that house I got the food from when I was biking up here for the first time in I don’t know how long. I spent a long time in the bathroom puking when I jumped out of bed in the middle of the night.

Austin has spent a lot of time with the animals but I think he’ll be OK. He keeps asking me though am I for sure that my MMR is up to date. I think he is scared for the baby now. He was talking and talking and talking about being a big brother and suddenly he won’t say boo about it. I guess there is a lot of stuff we are all too afraid to talk about.

May 10th – Travel is still restricted in our community. We’ve heard that measles cases are being reported up and down the river now. The military has gotten involved. They are quarantining areas and blocking roads for all the good that will do. When people want to slip out and around, they’ll find a way. There is a lot of talk that maybe the pirates are doing it on purpose as there’s been some rumors that some raiding parties have kidnapped infected kids and they’ve just turned up in places further up or down the river, unharmed. Weird.

We are all sad but as unconscionable as it seems life must go on. We’ve got Austin and the baby to think about and the animals count on us too. Threshing has pretty much come to a halt so Rand has been around and has been working on our own fields for a change. We've had to do a lot of irrigating. Boy, do we need rain desperately.

I made Red Onion Jam today to use up some of those big, red hamburger onions that seem to like the back corner of the garden so much. I peeled and julienned three cups of those onions and then poured over them one and a half cup of apple juice and three quarter cup of red wine vinegar. The kitchen really stunk and Rand walked in only to turn around and walk back out again and say that he and Austin would eat their lunch on the porch if I didn’t mind and did I really think those fumes were good for the baby. I laughed for the first time in days. I’ll take onion fumes over cabbage fumes any day of the week.

Next I added one teaspoon of dried sage, a half a teaspoon of ground black pepper, five cups of white sugar mixed with one half cup of brown sugar, and lastly a half teaspoon of margarine to draw out the sugar in the onions and help them caramelize. I put the whole mess on high heat and brought it to a full rolling boil, added my pectin, and then boiled it until the syrup jelled. Then I put it in prepared jars and processed them.

Ram showed up for lunch claiming that he’d been following the odor of the onions for the last two miles. I would have thrown something at him if I hadn’t been so eager to hear how the Crenshaws were doing.

“Very sad. Very sad. But that is as it should be and now they will heal, even Alicia. She knows that Tommy is in Heaven and that she will see his sweet face again. That brings her great comfort. It will just take time … for all of us. The boy was … he was gentle, kind, and …” Ram turned away to blow his nose and none of us needed him to continue. Tommy was fragile in a bad way and I’d always worried about how he was going to grow up and be able to survive. I imagined Mick would protect him but that couldn’t have lasted forever. And now … I guess I’ll just have to add the why of it to the long list of questions I want the answer to when I see Him in person. Life just sucks sometimes and it’s rarely fair. I don’t understand why it has to be like that.

May 11th – Potatoes. They are beautiful.

Well, not really. Actually they are brown and dirty and give me the chills when I picked them up out of the sand without gardening gloves on but even so they’ve got a specialness to them that goes beyond looks. Bless Ram for sending these to me.

We aren’t the only ones in the area growing potatoes. Some people were smart enough to hang onto some from before the trains stopped running, but our potato field is the largest though nowhere near as large as we one day want it to be. If it wasn’t for Fraidy I doubt we would have had anything. She has done her job on the moles and we’ve got what looks like a fox in the area that has a den of kits doing a job on the ones in the fields.

We did have a few plants on the outside rows that got hit but not too bad. If the rows had been any shorter it would have been bad but like I wrote, we had enough that losing a few to moles didn’t hurt too bad. I’ve already got the dehydrators full of slices that are drying.

Alicia came by today to help. Brendon brought her and the baby and I think it did them good. Austin just hugged on her and hugged on her and she admitted that Mick had been doing the same.

“Kiri, part of me feels like my heart is broken permanently but … but another part of me? I have to say that … oh this is going to sound just awful.”

“Alicia, compared to some of the things that have come out of my mouth I doubt you could say anything that would shock me or be that bad,” I told her.

“Kiri, I’m … I’m relieved,” and she burst into tears.

Well, it wasn’t exactly what I expected to hear but I let her finish so that I wouldn’t put my foot in my mouth.

“It is like a circle has closed. I always worried about Tommy. He was … you know Daddy and the damage he did to … well … I was always scared that Tommy was going to turn out like our mother, unable to cope with real life. I’d see signs of it every once in a while. He was getting better than he used to be but … it’s like a circle has closed. Mom then Dad and now Tommy. Like a chapter has closed. God, I’m an awful person.”

“Alicia, I can’t even pretend to understand. I saw some pretty wicked things from the kids in foster care and well, life pretty much bites really bad sometimes. Instead of beating yourself up over being relieved, why don’t you just be happy for Tommy.”

This time it was my turn to shock her. “What?”

“You know, all that stuff that Ken is always talking about. Tommy’s got it, he’s living it. In Heaven … no tears, no pain, no worries, all of it. Maybe it would be nice for us if he’d been destined to stay here but, for whatever reason … Look, I haven’t got a whole lot of room to talk. I got really messed up after my parents and little brother died. I was awful mad for a long time. But in the end you can’t change what has happened and if you really love someone you … you want what is best for them. In this case maybe staying with us wouldn’t have been the best thing for Tommy. Life is hard enough these days without … you know … being unable to cope with … with stuff.” I shrugged too afraid of saying anything more and really messing things up.

We kept peeling potatoes, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I don’t think of my little brother very much. For one thing it hurts and for another … he was just eight and it seems so long ago that he was in my life. But for a little while I gave some thought to all the good memories I had … playing pioneer in his little red wagon, putting up with my Barbies getting drafted by his GI Joes, coming home from camp to find that he wouldn’t sleep in his bed and had spent the week sleeping in mine, the forts we built together, the holes we had tried to dig to China. He could be weird and obnoxious but he was my little brother and I loved him. I hope that Alicia has some good memories in there that she can hang onto and not just the ones where her parents were so awful.

In addition to the potatoes that we sliced for drying we canned several loads of the smaller potatoes. Even doing it outside we both were soaked through with sweat by lunch time. We’d made sandwiches for a really early lunch because we wanted to have dinner before they left for the Crenshaw place but we didn't want the guys to eat too much and then get sick working in the heat. By the time we had everythong on the table I almost couldn’t eat I was that done in.

We fixed mashed potatoes, cornbread, sliced tomatoes, greens, and for the occasion I fried up a chicken that had started coming at us claws first anytime we tried to get near the chicken coop. Rand said he’d never seen such an aggressive chicken; roosters yes, chicken no. She’d never really laid eggs either. Rand thought that maybe she was a hormonally mixed up chicken, one that thought she was a rooster. You get those every once in a while. I remember Momma saying, “A whistling woman and a crowing hen always come to some bad end.” Well, I guess for a chicken being dinner rather than the guest is just about as bad an end as you can come to.

After Brendon, Alicia, and the baby left I did the few remaining dishes and then told Rand that I was taking a shower and to call me when summer was over. I noticed Austin was pretty tired at dinner and sure enough as I passed his room he was a sleep across his bed. I hadn’t been in the shower a minute before I got company. There was barely room for the two of us in there at the same time but everything worked out to our mutual enjoyment.

Rand left Austin asleep and put the animals up by himself. He was a sweaty mess when he came back in and had to take another shower, this time by himself. I’ve thrown sheets over all the cushions. No matter where to sit or how few clothes you have on you still get sweaty. The sheets help some but not as much as I’d like and I think I’m going to have to take the covers off the sofa and chair cushions and wash them and pray they don’t shrink. I might have to wash the cushions too or at least try and rinse them. Everything smells of sweat and BO these days.

Tomorrow is supposed to be Baking Day but I can barely stand the idea of getting the oven going. It might be good to keep the baking to a minimum anyway. While we’ve got more than a little flour – both from our own crop and from the shares people pay for Rand to run the thresher and grinder – we need to be conscious of being frugal because just because we have it today doesn’t mean that we can get it tomorrow. I might do laundry instead, or at least our sheets. The pillows too. Maybe Rand will help me wash my hair. Maybe I'll just spend the day sitting in the wash tub if it is going to be hot again.

Or maybe I’ll wait until after the Swap Meet on Saturday. I’ve heard folks are real eager for Missy and Bill to have their stand open. The outbreak and then … then Tommy’s passing … has kept the Trade Shack closed for a while and it caught the community off guard. They’ve become dependent on the Shack for trade goods and for news. There will be as much gossiping as bartering going on most likely.

But now it is time for me to try and get some sleep, assuming Junior will let me. I’ve got a watermelon that’s a night owl inside me.

Chapter Ninety-One

2010-05-15T18:06:00.001-07:00

Chapter 91

April 20th – Is this what “nesting” is? This driving need to make sure everything is clean and ready for the baby? Isn’t it a little early to be feeling this? Maybe not. The few people I’ve mentioned it to make it seem like it is some cute, temporary insanity all pregnant women go through. It makes me feel like they are patting me on the head and humoring me and that drives me up the wall even in the best of times. And these aren’t the best of times.

Despite all of my promises to myself not to worry things to death, it looks like maybe I’ve had good reason to worry … well, if not worry at least to be concerned. We heard this morning that raids have started up again along the river. No one is for sure if it is the same group because the methods of attack are different. It might not even be river pirates but people trying to make it look like river pirates or land raiders using the river as a temporary refuge to get them from point A to point B. No one knows … because no survivors of any of the attacks have been found.

People look like they are missing but because of how badly burned over some of the small homesteads and towns are the missing are either unidentifiable from the remains that are found or there is simply too much ground to cover to see if someone ran off or crawled off and died in the undergrowth.

I try not and dwell on it but the only way I can get away from it is to try and get my chores done. The weather has been really nice so it has actually be good to work outside. The best thing that came out of the garden today was my first sweet Spanish onions. For dinner I actually made sausage dogs with all the onions and peppers we could handle … and I’m paying for it. That’s what I’m doing sitting up here at the kitchen table with the solar lamp while Rand and Austin are asleep.

Trying to keep my mind off of the terrible indigestion I gave myself from pigging out I’ve been making a list of what I have in the garden and what I can expect out of the orchard. Last month I planted bush beans, pole beans, lima beans, cantaloupes, carrots, collard greens, sweet corn, cucumbers, eggplant, endive, lettuce, romaine, kohlrabi, mustard greens, okra, green onions, English peas, black eyed peas, peppers, potatoes, sweet potatoes, pumpkins, radish, summer squash, winter squash, tomatoes, turnips, and watermelon. I planted more of the same for successive harvests. The greens I harvest daily and the peppers are really coming in now too … bell to sweet to hot, seems you can never have too many peppers.

I planted too much cabbage. The heads this season are huge and if I have to smell cooking cabbage one more time I think I’m gonna hurl. I’ve made as much sauerkraut and I can stand to make. I’ve dried it until it looks like confetti. I’ve canned a ton of slaw. I’ve shredded the stuff and tried to hide it in some of the casseroles I’ve made. I’m just plain tired of looking at cabbage. I know I’m being ungrateful but this Sunday for the dinner on the grounds I’m making a huge bowl of cole slaw to try and “bless” some other folks with the bounty God’s dumped on us.

The mayhaws will be coming in soon and I can’t wait. The next sorghum crop needs to be planted before the end of the month and I hope to get my gladiolus bulbs in the ground in the next day or so too. Whoops, Rand is looking for me so looks like it is off to bed whether I can stand it or not. If I don’t go, he’ll want to sit with me and I won’t do that to him.

April 21st – Today was baking day and I’ve decided to write down the whole process for posterity … or at least for the baby’s memory book. First off, you have to have the wheat to grind. I’m still using some that was in Rand’s feed barrels. We’re using the older stuff before we start using the grain that we grew ourselves. Rand calls it FIFO … first in, first out.

According to one of Momma’s books on the subject of baking, the whole wheat kernel or berry is made up of distinct parts, all of which contribute to the high quality nutritional value of the wheat. The wheat has high amounts of vitamins A, E and B. Wheat berries found in the tombs of the pharaohs in Egypt and examined still contained the full range of 26 vitamins and minerals, over 2000 years after it had been harvested; you have to admit that is something amazing. The outside of the kernel is called the bran. Bran is good for the fiber that the body needs as well as helping to regulate cholesterol. It helps to detoxify the body which is an important function in our society where toxins assault us from every angle. The wheat germ is the part of the kernel that sprouts. It holds the life of the wheat, the ability to produce plants like itself. It has the highest density of vitamins B and E in the wheat. This is where wheat germ oil is found, a healthy oil that helps the body absorb vitamins that are not water soluble. Finally, the endosperm is the part of the wheat berry that holds the starch. This is the only part left in white flour. It is only the starch which breaks down into sugar in the body, and is meant as a food source for the plant as it grows, before the leaves come out and photosynthesis begins.

I know I need to teach Austin this stuff too and I keep making notes but by the time I’ve thought about something and bring it up Austin will generally say, “I know, Rand told me.” I’m not sure if that makes me feel useless or not. I’m glad that Rand is teaching Austin but, I thought I was supposed to have a hand in it someplace too.

Anyway, about making bread from scratch, now that I’ve got the structure of the wheat out of the way the next part of the equation is the grinder. There used to be all sorts of grinders on the market. Looking at Momma’s books and at the old magazines in Daddy’s files makes me think that some folks sure had it easy. I have a couple of different grinders but mostly I have to use the hand powered ones though Rand has said that when he gets more deep cycle batteries he is going to set the kitchen up so that I can use some of the old “convenience appliances” like the blender, food processor, and electric grinder on a regular basis.

The first hand grinder I have is for small batches. It bolts onto the table, you feed the grain into the hopper, and then you turn the crank handle and the flour is spit out into a bowl I have strategically placed below the grinding area. I like this grinder when I’m only doing a small amount of flour or when I want cracked wheat instead of flour or I’m making flour or meal out of harder grains like corn or legumes.

The other grinder I have is a Country Living Grain Mill. This is the grinder I use when I need to make larger batches of flour. The wheel on this mill is really big and Rand has set it up so that a belt can be placed on the large wheel and run to a bicycle wheel and peddling the bicycle powers the grinder. Now that my backside is too wide for the seat, Austin has to help first thing on Baking Day to make sure I have enough flour for everything I plan to do on those days.

First thing you want to do is keep your grain on the cool side as it is ground, that’s why I do mine first thing in the morning. If the grain gets too warm, or the resulting flour, it kind of develops this rancid odor and the flour has an off taste that can’t be baked out. It is also a good habit to never grind any more grain than what you need in a single day. I’ve goofed, or gotten distracted doing other things, so sometimes I have to bag it and put it in the cooler but not too many people have that advantage so stick with just making what you need each day.

According to one of Momma’s books, the first loaves of bread were made of loosely ground grains mixed with water and then flattened out and dried in the sun. I can’t really see trying to pass that off at the dinner table these days. But you don’t just treat fresh ground whole wheat flour the way you would the bleached white stuff that you used to get at the grocery store either. It is a different texture and has the whole grain in it, not just the starchy part.

This is how I make one of my favorite loaves of whole wheat bread. You start with one and a half cups of water. The water should be lukewarm (body temperature) to help dissolve one quarter cup of honey and support the growth of the packet of dry yeast. Honey is for flavor and also food for the yeast. Adding a quarter cup of vegetable oil makes for a cake-like texture and helps the bread stay moist. And the two tablespoons of salt brings out the taste of all the ingredients.

Combine the ingredients, including three and one-half cups of whole wheat flour, one at a time, in a large bowl – starting with the liquids and ending with the flour one cup at a time and keeping a half cup aside until the dough is ready to knead on the table top.

Blend everything with a spoon and/or your hands until it begins to form a lump. Then lightly dust the table top with some of the remaining flour, turn the mound out of the bowl, and let it rest for 10 minutes. According to the notes in the margin of Momma’s recipe book this is so the flour can more fully absorb the water.

Next, dust your hands with a little of the extra flour and begin kneading as follows: (1) gently push the dough away from you so that it flattens out, (2) give it a quarter turn and (3) fold it in half toward you. Think of it as push, turn, and fold. Repeat the process as many as 100 times, dusting your hands and the table to prevent the dough from sticking. The key here is to make sure the dough stays moist and soft – so add just enough flour during the kneading to keep the dough from becoming stiff and dry. When the kneading is done, the dough will be soft and tender like the lobe of your ear which sounds stupid but is really true if you’ve ever stopped to compare the two..

Pour a little oil into the mixing bowl, and roll the kneaded dough inside the bowl so that it is coated with the oil. Cover the bowl with a dishcloth and let it double in size in a corner of the kitchen where there are no drafts. After about an hour, punch it down in the bowl to release the bubbles made by the yeast. Turn it back onto the table top and knead it another 25 to 50 times. Shape the dough into a ball, and press it into a greased bread pan (8 1/2 by 4 1/2 inches). Cover it with a cloth, and let it rise until it’s about a half inch over the brim of the pan. Bake it at 350 degrees F for 45 to 60 minutes. To know if it is done, remove it from the pan and tap the bottom. A clear hollow sound means it’s fully baked. Set it on a wire rack and let it cool. It is actually still baking until it reaches room temperature. But in this case, temptation has its rewards and it is a true temptation for me not to sit down and eat slice after slice with fresh butter or jam.

April 22nd – No swap meet this week. Feels like forever since I’ve been to one. I’ll be going to the next one, or at least I plant to. Need to be a little more careful about putting the cart before the horse. You never know what kind of curve ball life is going to throw at you.

I’ve been a little sad today. We didn’t know one of the does was pregnant. She always looked all poked out on the sides like she ate better than good. When Rand and Austin went to feed the animals Austin came in afterwards looking like he’d been crying and walked straight to his room without a word. I looked at Rand who’d come in behind him looking grim.

“That doe, the one with the really soft ears that Austin has made a bet of a pet out of, she gave birth to twins and one of them didn’t make it.”

“I didn’t know she was …”

“I didn’t either. I think the doe is going to be all right. For all she is so dainty she’s a touch one. But I’m not sure about the remaining kid. It’s a doelet and a lot smaller than she should be. The bucklet that died was twice her size.”

With no vet we have to rely on books and experience when it comes to the animals but sometimes that isn’t enough. You can’t always save them. Heck, sometimes you don’t even know they are sick until it is too late. The other day one of my original hens was just pecked to death by the other chickens. I still don’t know why. Rand said she could have been sick but there wasn’t any obvious sign of it. She was a good layer too so it is really weird.

Tonight before we locked up the house Austin was in a better mood when Rand said the doelet is doing better but her size makes him wonder if he should counter her out of the future breeding pool in case she has some kind of genetic damage. She is a sweet looking little thing but its hard to keep animals only as pets and Austin knows that. I see him resisting the urge to get attached … because if she isn’t a breeder she is food. As harsh as that is, it is only a reflection of the world we live in.

April 23rd – “It only takes a spark to get a fire going,
The soon all those around can warm up to its glowing.”

Those are the first two lines of an old church camp song I remember my Mom singing to me when I was little. Could have been the song those cultist were singing for all I know as they sat around their campfire in the woods. Or maybe it was Kum-ba-yah or who knows what. Probably doesn’t matter but their carelessness led to the agonizing deaths of three-quarters of their members not to mention the deaths of two families of migrants holed up at an abandoned farm in O’Brien.

Ken – pastor, doctor, counselor, arbitrator, mediator, news correspondent. Events that happen in the community get relayed to the rest of us, sometimes via the pulpit, and this time with a reminder that there is a VFD any longer. We can save ourselves best by taking simple precautions to prevent catastrophes like fires. The sermon went along with his admonitions coming from Proverbs 9.

The slaw was a big hit. So were the hush puppies, fish, and cradaddies that were cooked up fresh right there thanks to one of our new families. The girl that died in childbirth not too long ago was their daughter in law.

Rand thinks I’m imagining things but I swear I’m not. And I think that Uncle George is guiding things along. Laurabeth was sitting on a blanket in the shade with Freddie. Men kept coming over to say hello … women too but mostly unattached men from my observations. I didn’t think anything of it at first, the Crenshaws are a popular family and well liked and people are happy to see Laurabeth getting better. She is most definitely better but she’s been touched for life. There are lines at the corner of her eyes ten years before there should have, her grief maturing her physically as well as emotionally. Well, it looked like Ron Harbinger could only stand to stay apart from this for so long. He started hovering around Laurabeth. Rand said he was just being protective because of Freddie but to me it looked like more than that.

Then Ron was looking at Laurabeth and he gets this funny look on his face and then it went blank. He backed up two steps … right into Uncle George who was grinning like he had a secret. Uncle George clapped him on the should and suggested that both Laurabeth and Freddie could use a walk. Ron’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times but Uncle George just keeps that smile on his face and tells Ron to go on and that some of the daffodils were still blooming in the old park nature trail and that Laurabeth was fond of them. Eventually Ron gave in but you could see he was a bit reluctant … not reluctant because he didn’t want to but reluctant ‘cause he was a little scared maybe.

I’m pretty sure that Laurabeth is oblivious to it. I’m not sure what I think. For one thing it’s none of my doggone business but on the other hand I feel I’ve got a bond with Laurabeth that wasn’t there before. I guess it is just creeping me out a little bit to see her life being manipulated from the sidelines like that. I know I wouldn’t like it being done to me but Laurabeth is a different person. Do I say something or do I keep my nose out of it?

I’ve decided that I’m going to keep my nose out of it … at least temporarily. Maybe I’ll ask Ron, but from the look on his face he might bolt if I do say something. I could ask Uncle George but he could tell me to mind my own business. I could say something to Missy but then she might say something thoughtless … though she isn’t as bad about that as she pretends to be. I don’t know, guess I’ll just have to wait and see how things turn out.

When we got home we were full as a family of ticks and Rand said not to bother cooking which was a nice break for me. We try and keep work light on Sundays but that doesn’t mean all we do is rest. The animals still have to be tended to, so does the garden, and sometimes I have a little preserving or sewing to do … but by and large we didn’t have any problems today.

I made popped wheat today and I can’t say that it is something that I would want to eat every day but it is fun for a change of pace. I had cooked up some wheat this morning but it didn’t all get eaten for breakfast so tonight I took the cooked wheat and “puffed” it in hot oil. The oil needs to be about 375 degrees F and you fry the cooked wheat for about two minutes before removing and draining really well. A lot of people salt them but I put a little cinnamon and sugar on mine and it was really good.

Austin and Rand were a little hungrier than they had thought they were going to be so I fixed them a garden salad and gave them a slice of bread, butter, and jam and that filled their empty spots. And now I’m just about all done in so I’m going to bed and I hope I get to sleep through the night this time. I swear seems like no matter what I do I have to get up a time or two in the night and go to the bathroom. Luckily we don’t have an outhouse or this would be no fun at all.

April 24th – Started harvesting the mayhaws today. You do not want to eat those things raw … ew, shiver, gak, spit. But the mayhaw jelly I made today was incredible. Crazy how something so icky turned into something so delicious I had to hide the jelly jars behind the lima beans in the pantry to keep Rand and Austin out of them.

Mayhaws aren’t very big, maybe half an inch to an inch in diameter. According to Momma’s book on the subject they are a type of Hawthorne native to the US. I had to throw a bird net over the tree because as soon as the birds saw what I was doing they came flying in. Woofer and Fraidy (now able to leave her kittens a little more) helped with some of the blackbirds but the smaller birds escaped them. But with birds in the garden I have noticed I haven’t had as many problems with locusts as some of the neighbors are reporting. The geese get their fair share of the insects as well and I’ve watched them drive off birds they think are invading their turf.

I wound up having to call Austin to help get the nets on the trees. I probably lost a couple of pounds to the birds but I still managed to pick about fifteen pounds from the trees and there is a lot of fruit still ripening. For the mayhaw jelly I took three pounds of washed berries and added four cups of water and brought it to a boil and then covered and simmered for about ten minutes. Then I ran the resulting water and pulp through cheese cloth to collect the juice. I added the pectin to that juice and brought it to a full rolling boil and then added five and a half cups of sugar and continued stirring until it returned to a hard boil again. At that point I set the timer and cooked, stirring constantly, for another full minute and then took it off of the heat source. I had foam on only one of my batches so I skimmed it off and then bottled it and ran it in the boiling water canner. The jelly sure was pretty with the sun shining through it.

April 25th – Momma O and Mrs. Withrow came by today visiting. They caught me taking a cat nap in the rocking chair on the porch. I was pretty embarrassed but at least I could tell them it was because I’d planted several more rows of dried beans in my bean gardens. They were in Momma O’s buggy but they were driven by that boy that lives with Mrs. Withrow. I set out cookies and cool apple juice in dishes that I keep for company and the boy wouldn’t touch the plates. When I told him he could have his on a napkin if he’d rather he finally relaxed and sat on the porch steps just as happy as a lark. He was so enthralled watching a ladybug that Mrs. W had to remind him to eat.

Mostly they seem to have come by just to exchange gossip but I think they were also pumping me for information on when Rand is going to have the incline machine finished and hooked up to the grinder. I told them that Rand said he wants to have everything read for ust to take to the next swap meet. I hope I didn’t speak out of turn because I have a feeling that the news is going to be all over the tri-county area within a few days.

April 26th – Rand laughed at me last night when I told him about telling Mrs. W and Momma O about the incline and grinder. He said not to worry, that all I had done was save him some work on the advertising end of things. I really need to watch that gossiping habit I’ve fallen into. I know I don’t like people talking about me behind my back, whether for good or ill, and I’m turning into a hypocrite by doing it to other people. That’s really not nice. It’s a fine line between getting news and gossiping like an old hen and I need to remember what the difference is before I get myself in trouble.

April 27th – Planted more beans again today. I think Rand is humoring me about the beans. I think they’ll come in handy and I know he likes when I thicken gravy using bean flour instead of plain flour. As a matter of fact I made some more bean flour today by taking some of the dried beans I have that are getting really hard and grinding them up into a fine powder.

Now I could use a pressure cooker to cook really old dried beans and they are just about as good as fresh but at the same time it isn’t always worth my while to do that. I’ve been supplying some beans to Ram to take and trade on his infernal trading route and he’s never made it very far before they are all gone. If Rand is going to be an “investor” in that blasted Company of Rogues that Ram has going the least I can do is support him. He’s put up with enough of my crazy ideas. Missy just reminded me to keep some of my more unusual heirloom varieties for seeds so that I can use them at the Trade Shack.

Today was supposed to be cleaning day but I was too busy getting ready for a whole passle of people that will be coming tomorrow. Rand had two new fields opened up and he is planting them all in sorghum. Mr. Coffey is also helping us to build our own sorghum mill. I wondered why he’d want to give away something that he could corner the market on and Rand told me it wasn’t like that at all.

“Babe, Mr. Coffey knows he isn’t getting any younger and to be honest he isn’t sure if his grandson is going to keep the farm up after he goes. He’s not a farmer, he’s a contraption builder and that is what he is most talented at. He knows that we value his experience and wisdom. He also knows that we want to replicate what he knows, not to run him over now that he is slowing down, but as a way to imitate the best parts of his knowledge and perfect them before he’s not around to be a mentor anymore.”

“Uh, in other words he’s flattered that we want him to teach us?”

Rand laughed and said, “Yeah, basically.”

You know, sometimes I wonder where all my education went. I could stand up and talk rings around some of my opponents in debate but these days I’m just happy to be able to string some words together that my sense and get my point across. Every once in a while I’ll catch myself writing in my journal the way I used to talk but it “sounds” funny when I read it back to myself.

I worry about what I might be teaching Austin who is more comfortable saying “hither, thither, and yonder” than “here, there, and over there.” Actually, you know who I sound like? My mother! I just realized … oh my goodness. I haven’t forgotten her voice! I haven’t!! I can always hear Daddy’s voice … always … in all the rules and stuff that I have I can hear him saying them like he is standing beside me but I was losing the memory of Momma’s voice only … only … only I didn’t lose it, it was here all the time, inside me.

April 28th – Company all day long, as a matter of fact still have the boys asleep on the floor in Austin’s room. Woofer is right in the middle and it is like a puppy fest in there. Uncle George was fine with them staying over and then coming to the swap meet with us in the morning.

I’m so tired I almost can’t see straight and I won’t be up much longer. Just waiting for the last pot to finish soaking so that I can finish washing it and go to bed. Cooked three meals for over a dozen men and boys and I was the only female there though the boys did help me get the cooked food to the table.

But I won’t complain, the sorghum is all planted – two five-acre plots of it – and now we just have to trust in God for the rest of it. Even doubling our acres planted in sorghum we still have plenty of grain left. We also have a lot of sorghum molasses left so I decided to make pecan pies for dessert to use up some of the pecans from last season that won’t last much longer.

First you pre-heat the oven to 375 degrees F. Roughly chop the pecans -- you don't want them crushed – until you have about a cup and a half of nut meats. Combine one-third of a cup of brown sugar and three eggs in a large mixing bowl and stir to combine. Add one tablespoon of cornstarch and one-quarter teaspoon of salt. Melt four tablespoons of butter and stir it in to the sugar-eggs-cornstarch mess. Add the nuts and three-quarter cup of sorghum and mix one last time. Pour everything into a prepared pie crust and tilt the dish around to make sure it's evenly distributed. Bake for 35-40 minutes, until the center is firmed up bit still a bit jiggly. (Yes, that's the official cooking term: "jiggly".) Then let the pie sit for 15 minutes before cutting.

I made four pies and I swear the men could have eat three times that many. I almost didn’t have to wash the plates. I guess that means that liked it.

April 29th – We had to be up so early today to move the incline and grinder to a special spot that Mr. Henderson had set aside for us at the field. And boy, we were so busy I almost didn’t get a chance to look around. Rand and the boys were so busy running the equipment that I had to stay to help with the paper work of taking in so much weight and returning so much.

The incline is sort of like a treadmill and we use the donkey’s to run it. No matter what reinforcing Rand has tried the antique equipment just isn’t up to Bud and Lou’s weight and none of the horses want to have anything to do with the clackety old thing. The little donkeys though just plod along and are happy to get their carrot when they do a job for so long.

The incline treadmill turns the shaft that rotates the gears that in turn run the grinding wheels. Mr. Coffey helped Rand to set some different wheels up – wheat or rye, corn, and then an adjustable one. I’m not sure how the millers did it in times past but all Rand is asking as a “toll” is for every bushel of wheat that someone wants ground we get to keep five pounds of the pre-ground grain.

The scales we used were recalibrated every hour while everyone watched but there was still some grumbling. Guess people thought they were going to get something for nothing. But most people were OK with it and said they’d been worried about Rand asking for a much higher toll than what he is.

Rand says one of the reasons why he is diversifying our income sources like he is is so that he doesn’t have to charge so high a price on any single item or service. I think he is underselling himself but he says that you have to have a balance. I guess that is true. I feel funny sometimes when I know how much Missy is getting for the mixes and stuff that I made for her.

Today I brought her cake mixes … spice cake, carrot cake, apple coffee cake, and chocolate cake. The chocolate cake got bid up ridiculously and even Missy felt bad and said that she’d only take so much and that if others really were interested they could put their names down on a waiting list. I’ve got almost two dozen orders for chocolate cake mixes for the next swap meet. Good thing I’m not much of a chocoholic and don’t mind parting with some of the cocoa in those giant tubs of the stuff I have.

It took Rand most of the day to get everything ground that people wanted ground. We came home with a lot more than I expected we would. But finally Rand decided to shut up shop about two hours before the swap meet was over and said that if enough people could get together on a given day, and if he could schedule it out far enough in advance, he’d pull the milling equipment to a central location and work things out.

Mr. Henderson told Rand, rather than hauling the milling equipment all over the place, if he wanted to set up in the empty lot across from the ranch he’d provide security … for shares of course. I like Mr. Henderson but I’m under no illusion that he isn’t out to make his ranch as successful as possible.

Saw Cassie today, she seemed … something. I don’t know if it is sad or just what. When I mentioned it to Rand he said that Mitch was “walking out” with a young woman he’d dated in highschool for a while.

“Uh oh. Is there going to be trouble?”

“No, don’t think so. Mr. Henderson seems happy with the changes in Cassie … she’s grown up the last couple of months I guess … but he is under no illusion that she’d be easy to get along with in marriage. And he likes Mitch enough that he wants to see him happy. He would have liked to tie things up neat and tidy with Mitch and Cassie making it a go of it together but he’s realist to know you can’t dictate stuff like that just because that is how you want it to turn out.”

I suppose that is true. Seems like all of the fairy tales are getting kind of thin. Laurabeth’s Prince Charming dying in battle leaving her childless and alone. Cassie and Mitch going their separate ways. Villains not renouncing their evil ways and reforming and learning to live happily ever after like the rest of us. Lots of other things like that seem to be happening recently. Doggone depressing if you think about it.

April 30th – Heard that there was another large raid by the pirates or whoever is causing these problems. Another migrant family was completely wiped out except for a little boy. Bradley’s aunt and uncle have taken him in temporarily.

Rand is on me about disappearing into the woods where he can’t find me. I told him I left a note on the kitchen counter and that it wasn’t my fault he sat his hat on top of it and didn’t see it and then got worried and cantankerous. We both wound up laughing in the end because it was silly but at the same time I know he is serious about me being more careful and not going off on my own. I suppose he as a point. Last thing I need to do is get out in the woods and turn an ankle or something. As big a round as I am now no telling what would happen.

Chapter Ninety

2010-03-30T17:57:00.000-07:00

Chapter 90

April 10th – Today was beautiful. I tried to take Rand’s advice and just “let go” of it for a little while; “it” being an increasing paranoia that somehow something had been set in motion at the trial and hanging that was going to have very long term consequences. Of course “it” may have be been put in motion even before that; my choice to confront certain people, develop a certain reputation, etc. But if you want to go back even further than that my choice to leave Tampa, my choice to … this is ridiculous; Rand is right, when do I let someone else take responsibility for their share of what has happened and just accept that some things happen for a reason beyond my understanding and control.

Pastor Ken did something funny the other day. He had up all raise our right hand and recite, "I do solemnly swear that I hereby abdicate my position as governor of the universe and will let go and let God do His job without any further interference." It was just so funny, though I suppose you had to be there to really get it.

So, to begin again, today was beautiful. It really was and I almost missed how beautiful things have been. The last of the dogwood blossoms are leaving the trees. The redbuds are almost all greened over. And the azalea bushes are all bloomed out for the season. The bright yellow Jessamine is also passed its peak. I missed paying attention to the camellias completely with my head stuck in the worry bucket.

But I won’t miss the daylilies and African irises because they are full of buds that are absolutely dying to be noticed. The plumbago looks like it is going to bloom late this year so I won’t miss it either. And the warm rains we’ve been having have really got the Mexican heather seeking notice. There’s other stuff, mostly what folks would consider weeds but it’s still pretty … when you bother to stop working long enough to look. God gave us this stuff to look at and enjoy. How awful it must feel to use His great Majesty to build us this world and we just ignore it.

At Sparkleberry Ranch I might very well be the only one that did stop to look today. The men were over and cutting the wheat. I thought they were going to harvest it today, as in thresh it and the whole nine yards but Clyde only laughed at me. He doesn’t know me very well do he. Rand, Brendon, and the boys were watching me all day and had just started to relax when I struck … but that was later.

First they had to wait until all the dew was dried up on the wheat. Rand explain that if you didn’t you were just asking for trouble in the form of mold and other stuff that would ruin all of your hard work. While they did that they worked a bit on the horse-powered incline. Rand had gotten the thing months ago and has, by bits and pieces, rebuilt it. The only thing left to do was mend the “belt” that the animals would walk on that would turn the gears. The gears in turn will act as a power source for the large grain mill that Rand and Mr. Coffey’s son built together.

They didn’t work on it too long because just as soon as it was time they hurried out to the binder machine that Rand had already put back together. The binder was drawn by Bud and Lou. If the mules had been any smaller they would have needed a larger team but Bud and Lou were bred for this kind of work. Rand said this is how they did it back in the 1920s. As the binder was drawn down the field it would cut the stalks of grain and gather them into bundles. The bundles were then gathered into windrows to finish drying. The binder that Rand had wasn’t an automatic binder, what it did was it bundled the wheat and then a man could bind it with string at the end of the process. It was more manual labor but at the same time it meant that they could use whatever string was on hand and didn’t have to stick to what would fit in a machine feeder.

All of the grain was ready to cut. I asked Rand how he knew and he showed me that with the wheat, when the grain head was turning golden and the kernel was hard, but could still be dented with your thumbnail, it was ready. The oats, rye, barley and triticale were ready too according to Clyde who ought to know since he in his forestry post did a lot of side work with the extension office up here. Rand said with the good, sunny weather we’ve been having it won’t take long for the grain to completely cure … get too hard to dent with your thumbnail in the case of the wheat … and then they’ll be able to use the other machine thresh it.

Rand says it won't be long 'til they’ll be able to thresh the wheat and the other grains as well hopefully. After all of the grain fields were cut and bound into bundles, they stopped long enough to eat a decent meal. After that and a few minutes to let their stomachs settle they headed back out and stacked the bundles. They’d take from eight to ten of the bundles and stack them together into a shock, similar to what I had done with the corn to let it dry in the field. They’ve left the shocks in the field but it is going to be guarded so I’ll be feeding extra mouths at every meal for at least a week. I don’t mind it because Rand seems to be happy.

Tonight Rand and Brendon are on guard. Clyde had to go home and change. See, I was still stewing a bit about his laughing at me. I know I’m a bit of a city girl still. I have good commonsense and if just given a moment or a reasonable explanation I can figure things out. I rarely have to ask more than once. After laughing at me a bit Clyde went way out of his way to over explain stuff to me. I thought he was just being nice at first, maybe even thought I was a bit simple or something, but then I saw Brendon and Rand making a face like they were waiting for the explosion and caught Clyde smirking when he turned away. Uh uh, you know I couldn’t leave that unchallenged.

As the day wore on it got pretty warm. Didn’t help that I spiked Clyde’s greens with a little extra flavor. He likes things spicy so I helped him along by encouraging him to try my jalapeno peppers and the like. Clyde didn’t act like he had much sense in the matter. He couldn’t resist the challenge. Melly is just such a pushover that Clyde was getting a little big for his britches. She bows to his every wish. Now I try and cooperate with Rand as much as possible but Rand never takes that for granted and never … well usually not ever … does he get over the top with the chauvinism. Like Momma always said, “in the right doses chauvinism can wonderful, but too much will ruin your whole day.”

Clyde was getting pretty warm. And I was just egging him on to the point that Rand and Brendon both caught on. Then Ram shows up. He knew right away what was going on and he knows he owes me for getting Rand involved in his latest scheme. So he cooperated just a tad. Ram’s stomach is made of cast iron and so is his tongue. He’s never met a pepper yet that he hasn’t made friends with. I’ve seen him pop those little Thai peppers like candy on a bet. Well, I had some of those Thai peppers pickled in a jar in the pantry. All it takes is a dash to season something on the warm side. Ram ate a whole pepper and then Clyde ate one.

I nearly laughed out loud but I suppose I have to give to Clyde, he didn’t lose his composure … at least not then. Then Ram ate another pepper telling me they were some of the best he’d ever had. Clyde followed suit and you could tell he was getting down right uncomfortable. Ram popped a third one and gave me the eye like “this better work little sister cause I’m about done in myself.” Well, Clyde let his swagger override his commonsense and when he took that third one and chewed it up he got fired up ... literally.

Rand told me I was laughing so hard he thought I was going to go into premature labor. Clyde drank everything on the table and was still burning up so Rand, doing his own bit of laughing, pushed him over to the laundry area and pulled the handle that dumped my cold water all over him. I laughed until I couldn't stand to laugh any more.

“My Gawd Rand! She’s nothing but pure vinegar,” Clyde wheezed still trying to get his breath back.

Rand, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes and trying to avoid Ram, Brendon, and the boys that were rolling on the ground still laughing their heads off said, “Hey man, I tried to warn you.”

Clyde is a good guy, he was eventually able to laugh at himself. “Anyone ever wants to go up agin’ you girl I’m gonna make for dang sure I’m on your side.”

April 11th – I don’t mind the company but it makes me feel more self-conscious. I fixed fried grits and sausage with biscuits for breakfast and had Austin take plates out to Rand and Brendon. About twenty minutes after he left I heard two rife shots then what I thought was screaming. It like to have scared me to death because I wasn’t expecting the noise. It also brought visions of raiders. I grab my rifle and stumble out the door when Austin comes tearing back home yelling, “Momma get inside!” He was dragging Woofer with him and Woofer didn’t want to come in the house.

“Brendon only knicked an old razorback and he is bad sick. Rand said he looks like he has psuedorabies and they are trying to get him before he can get near the livestock. Where’s Fraidy?”

“In … in the house with the kittens.”

“Phew. Rand said people can’t get it but livestock and other animals can and they’ll spread it all over.”

It was a second before I replayed what he said and realized he’d called me “Momma.” We realized what he said at the same time. He grabbed me around the waist and said, “Please don’t be mad.”

I hugged him and said, “Of course I’m not mad.”

“Can I? Just every once in a while? I’m trying it out to see if it sticks.”

I couldn’t help but laugh and my belly jumped knocking into him. “You’re what?”

“I asked Rand and he said I could do it in my head to see if I like calling you and Rand like you were my parents and stuff. You sure you ain’t mad?”

“Ain’t isn’t proper grammar. And yes, I’m sure I’m not mad.”

“Some of the boys at church said you might not like it because it would make you feel old to have a son my age.”

“Well, you can tell those boys at church that it is none of their business what makes me feel old and what doesn’t but that for a fact I … I love you Austin and I meant it when I said that you could have a home with us for as long as you wanted.”

“Even if that is forever and ever?”

“Even if that is forever and ever.”

I got a gap-toothed grin where he’s lost another molar and that’s when we heard a third and fourth shot. A minute later Brendon came down the road say, “We got it. Wasn’t psuedorabies. Looks like somebody put an arrow in him but didn’t bring him down. Massive infection, wouldn’t have lived much longer anyway. Can’t take a risk with the meat though, might be infection in the blood. Austin? Rand says to get the two round shovels and bring ‘em on so we can get that porker underground before he starts stinking.”

That wasn’t the only excitement of the day. The potatoes were ready to dig and I surprised Brendon with a twenty pound bag to take home. And for dinner I fixed Rand and Clyde baked potatoes, ham slices, mixed peas and carrots, and cornbread muffins. I tell you I hadn’t realized how much I’d been missing baked potatoes. We’re going to have to be careful though because I have to save some back for planting next season and I’m not quite sure how to do it. I should ask Momma O but not until I have enough to share with her. It wouldn’t be fair to ask and not share, especially the way things are these days.

In addition to the potatoes that Austin helped me dig up the first heads of cabbage were ready and so were the big red hamburger onions. I started a crock of saur kraut and tried to fix a pot of cabbage for dinner but the smell made me heave so bad Clyde finished it up for me. Rand asked me to go lay down for a while and I did just to humor him but I slept away three hours of the day before I realized it. The only reason I woke up was because I had to go to the bathroom so badly.

When I did wake up I felt a lot better and even Clyde said my color was better. I caught him and Rand talking and then they’d stop so I figure they’re whispering about me. I’d like to know what it is about. When Rand starts worrying my life gets complicated.

April 12th – I don’t know what makes my ankles swell worse, being on my feet all day or sitting down. The sewing was backing up so since the boys came over and were helping Rand guard the grain shocks they also helped in the garden. I’ve got stuff sitting in the cooler to do but I’ll get to it tomorrow.

Gee, I’m saying that a lot lately … “I’ll just have to get to it tomorrow.” Ugh. Seems I’ve slowed way down. When I complain about it Rand gives me a kiss and says “it’s natural.” I don’t care if it is natural or not, I don’t like not being able to bend over and get the chicken eggs or help with the animals. I don’t like being so fat I can’t see to hoe what is right down by my feet.

I did manage to fix the rip in the Austin’s sheets. They are getting a little thin in places and Woofer jumped on the bed and that was all she wrote. Not the end of the world but it makes me wonder what we’ll do when we go through the last of the large cotton sheet material I have. It also reminds me I need to go through all of my linens to make sure nothing is dry rotting or mildewing in this weather we’ve been having.

April 13th – Spent the day cleaning and canning which means that I’m nearly spent. Rand sent word back to his Uncle that the grain will be ready for threshing tomorrow. Just in time too because tomorrow is baking day and I need to finish up things to take to the Swap Meet. I finished the pre-orders for Missy yesterday, getting fewer of them lately, but I’m getting more orders for the mixes.

Something I’m trying this time is Taco Rice Mix. I take one cup long grain brown rice or white rice, two teaspoons chili powder, one half teaspoon salt, one quarter teaspoon each oregano & cumin & garlic powder, two tablespoons dry onion, one half cup of tomato powder, and Dash red pepper flakes. This comes with instructions to mix it with two tablespoons of oil and three cups of water.

Another thing that I’m giving a try, at least temporarily are spice mixes. I’ve got a lot of big containers of seasonings that are open from where Aunt Wilma used to go a little nuts at the online spice market. I’ve also got all these little containers of herbs and spices that came from the houses that were salvaged. And I’ve got all of my herbs that I’ve been growing and drying. I made several different varieties and put them in jelly jars and Missy can barter them by the scoopful. Cajun Blackened Seasoning, Fajita Seasoning, Colonel Sanders Chicken Seasoning, homemade chili powder, jerk seasoning, onion powder, garlic powder, I made a case of twelve different seasonings and I hope they do well.

But for now I’m very tired and I’m just gonna go to sleep and let Rand lock things down and spend the night with … I think Brendon is out there again.

April 14th – Threshing day was amazing. Each acre of wheat yielded about 35 bushels of wheat and Rand said that was excellent. We have to save back about two bushels for each acre we want to plan next season but that still leaves 33 bushels per acre and we had five acres of wheat. Each bushel weighs sixty pounds, multiply that out by thirty-three bushels and that means we’ve realized 1980 pounds of wheat per acre times five acres equals just under ten thousand pounds of wheat for this crop. The family has agreed to split it 60/40 since Brendon (and poor Jonathon) helped Rand to do the major work of planting and cultivating. So for us that means that we are going to keep and store roughly six thousand pounds of wheat (100 bushels) not including the seed wheat for next year’s crop.

From what Rand has said, a bushel of wheat will yield roughly 42 commercial loaves of bread or forty-two 1.5 pound loaves. One acre of wheat would be more than sufficient to bake our bread for the year which means then we have some for feed and some for trading. Rand and I sat and talked about it tonight. We are going to give a bushel of wheat to Mrs. Withrow and two bushels to Momma O; we are also going to set back some seed wheat for them for next year. Mrs. Withrow doesn’t have any family to look after her and she’s done so much for us. We know people do look out for her needs but we want to make the firm commitment to do so as well.

What Uncle George and the rest of the family does with their share of the wheat crop is up to them. I know that Clyde is getting a piece of theirs and Ron is as well, but he is putting his back in with the Crenshaw clan since he is living under the roof there. Rand told me that Brendon said that it is just too weird. Ron is “blooming” under Uncle George’s attention. Seems Mr. Harbinger always praised the wrong thing with his sons and now that Ron is getting the right kind of feed back he is getting more and more comfortable in the new skin he decided to try on after his brother died. Every once in a while he goes off on his own and that is usually when the guilt over Julia starts eating at him. It is an open secret that Ron didn’t love Julia but was trying to do the right thing. It might have worked in the long run but they didn’t have time to completely figure out how to change their expectations and live with the way things were. Ron is thinking of reopening the fields that belonged to his now dead father in law and cultivate them for his son’s inheritance. I’ve got enough on my plate without trying to figure out how that is going to work out in the long term.

The oats yielded roughly the same number of bushels as the wheat but there are only 32 pounds per bushel for oats. We had five acres of oats planted and we agreed to the same 60/40 split. The little bit of barley we planted (just one acre of the stuff) only yielded 20 bushels but that is more than enough for our needs since it isn’t like Rand is going to use it for beer or moonshine. Triticale was the big producer per acre at 45 bushels. We had six acres in that and Rand got all excited because the triticale is a wheat/rye cross and is used as feed. Uncle George was surprised as all get out that we did so well with it but Rand thinks we can do even better with all the grains next year by rotating them and by figuring out a way to irrigate them. Mr. Coffey and his son have some ideas but that is going to have to wait until after harvest season.

Now Rye we had 15 acres planted and averaged 40 bushels per acre. Each bushel was 56 pounds. In other words we’ve got more rye than we know what to do with on a personal level so after holding back the seed wheat and we agreed that five of the acres we would split 60/40 as with the other small grains but the remaining ten was ours to keep completely and Rand and Ram have been putting their heads together and figure they should be able to get a really good trade for the stuff further south or even in the port cities.

Ram said that a cannery has started up in Plant City; it is apparently an old LDS location. If we can trade some of the product for the cans and oxygen absorbers then I can restock all of the cans that we used that my parents had left and that would mean that we could build up a nice insurance policy against a failed crop or any number of things like that.

I haven’t even gotten to how dancing around happy the men were with the straw that each grain left behind after it was threshed. The threshing machine was something to behold. Rand had it set up so that it was powered by a steam engine. The steam engine burned those little briquette things that he and Mr. Coffey’s son have gone into shares to build and produce. And I have to say it is one of the first times I’ve seen Uncle George at a complete loss for words.

The machine is big and noisy and I just about can’t stand to be around when it is going. It makes me nervous not to be able to understand what people are saying. What you do first is you load shocks of wheat into a hopper kind of thing in the thresher. Then these gears inside the thresher beat the shocks to separate the kernels of grain from the stalk. Conveyor belts carry the stalks and wheat berries through the machine. Slots in the conveyor belts let the wheat kernels fall into a hopper below the thresher. The stalks are then dumped out of the thresher at the end of the conveyor belt and then gets a name change to straw. Like I said, the quality of the straw coming out of the thresher is very high quality and can be used for animal bedding and lots of other things. I’m going to take some of it and try and weave it into things like floor mats, hats, placemats, and baskets of different sizes. There’s a trick to it but I remember hearing Momma O mention something about weaving pine needles so surely if she can do that she can teach me to weave straw.

Once the straw is removed from the kernels and auger moves the grain from the lower hopper to another sifting area in the machine. This second sifting blows most of the remaining dust and small particles out and you are left with fairly clean grain for storage which is then pulled up by another auger, out a spout and into a waiting wagon that takes the grain to storage.

Mr. Henderson and some of his men came around to watch and I swear I saw some of those grown men with tears in their eyes. I guess it is a sign that we really can make it on our own without outside help so long as people in the community pull together.

Tomorrow is Swap Meet Day and we are going. I’m kinda looking forward to it since it seems like forever since I’ve been to one. Rand is bringing me a folding chair just in case I get to where I can get around in the crowds. He has the “look” on his face. I mean, I know I’m a little wore out but aren’t we all? I’m feeling mostly OK. Ugh, here he comes with my nightly warm milk. I suppose some girls would eat this being coddled up all to pieces but it just feels so weird to me.

April 15th – Swap Meet today. Lots of good but lots to think about as well. I had more than one person look at me kind of funny. I know I’m getting big but there’s no reason for them to think I’m going to have the baby at any second. I’m not even thirty weeks along yet for goodness sake.

Got there early and got a parking space … well a wagon space … close up. Rand remember the little steps this time but they are wobbly so someone still has to help me get down. Got smart this time and brought the little garden wagon to haul stuff around with. Brought a small bag of all the grains to trade with and we almost couldn’t get back to Missy and Bill’s area because people kept stopping us to ask what was in the bags. Maybe it was a mistake, I’m not sure.

We weren’t the only ones to plant rye by any stretch but we have the only threshing machine in the county … maybe in the tri-county area. Before we left Rand had agreed to three stations … two in Suwannee county and one over in Columbia. It makes me a little uncomfortable but Mr. Henderson has agreed to provide security for a cut of what Rand takes in shares. We’ll take it in grain and straw rather than just grain since we already have so much. Oh sure, he could ask for more grain but Rand said he is building goodwill. Give people time to build up their crop and since they know you’ll be fair they’ll look to your business against next time around.

Had a man from north of us … he was here visiting with his sister … and he traded rye, wheat, and triticale for alfalfa, clover, cotton seed, flax, millet, rape, and vetch. The cotton will go with what we’ve already planted and we aren’t worried about it considering how well it is growing. The other stuff we’ll just have to wait and see. It will take a couple of seasons to growing enough to finally have something worth talking about but it fits into Rand’s longer term plans to be a self-sufficient operation and it will also allow us to keep more animals … beef cows as well as dairy, enough chickens that we can have the meat more than just every once in a while if that, keep more pigs, goats, and fowl too.

Speaking of farm animals, we might be getting some domestic turkeys. I’ve always heard they are some of the dumbest creatures walking the face of this earth … not the wild ones, they’re supposed to be sneaky smart … but Rand said you could say that about chickens too. I don’t know, some of those chickens look like they are planning to take over the world if given have a chance; they just have the funny look in their eye especially when they catch you raiding their nest. Rand thinks he wants to try his hand at rabbit and quail too. Well, we’ve got both out in the shrubbery and we don’t have to feed them but he’s talking about domesticated versions. I don’t know … quail maybe because I’ve gotten where I like the birds we keep but rabbits look evil to me.

I know that sounds stupid but when I was little I was bitten by a rabbit and they are a lot more cantankerous than their appearance would suggest. Austin said he thought rabbits were cute and would be fun to raise. I told him, only half joking, that if he wanted more pets to take care of a worm farm would be more helpful and fewer problems. For some reason that suggestion didn’t go over as well as I thought and I got a major eye roll for Austin and Rand.

The spice blend and the taco rice mix were both big hits. People keep asking for the recipes and Missy hates giving them out. She said, “Normally I’d love to help folks out but doing this always makes me feel like I’m creating built in obsolescence for the Trade Shack. If we give away all the secrets what use will they have for us down the road?” I suppose I can understand it, but I’d rather do that than stand back and have people resent the role you play in the short term when they feel like they are suffering under a monopoly or something like that. It reminds me of the “goodwill” that Rand said he is trying to build up … it’s good for people in the here and now and you hope people will remember it later.

I did pretty well on some trades. I was nervous about a couple of them because Rand wasn’t around – he was off talking with a bunch of men about threshing – but I guess I need to accept that if I’m going to be in charge of the kitchen that means I’ve got to be in charge of other things too. I saw Ram and asked how his family was and he smiled enough to add wattage to the already bright mid-day sun. I think this is the most content I’ve ever seen Ram in all the time I’ve known him. I asked him if he’d seen anything in particular at the tables – the crowd was huge and I wasn’t sure I wanted to wade into it without good reason – and he told me of a couple that really caught my curiosity.

First table I went to had, among other things, sunflower seeds for sale; not the kind you eat but the kind you plant. I’d planted a couple but something had got a hold of mine and cut them off at the base to get at the bloom … probably a raccoon or rat … so I picked up some new seeds to start real quick and I’m going to plant them inside the fence this time.

Another table had garlic bulbs and Walking onion sets. The garlic would go a long way towards helping me fill in some gaps in my herb garden and the Walking onions – I guess some folks know them by their proper name of Egyptian onions – will mean that I’ll have new onion plants every year without having to start from seed which can be a real pain for everything except bunching onions.

Found a couple of more needles for the treadle machine which really made my day. I bent one last week and trying to straighten it I actually broke it. I cried when I did it and had a hard time explaining to Rand why I was so upset. He understood, just didn’t understand the crying part.

I wore the moccasins that Rand made for me and boy was I grateful. My ankles and legs really swelled up from being on them so much and because it was so warm today. I’m actually sitting here with my feet up now trying to get them to finish going down. Hope they go down before tomorrow. Having toes that look like little sausages is a total turn off.

April 16th – No church service today, just a quiet day sitting around the house being a lump … except for taking care of the animals, feeding the guys, getting the horn worms off of my tomato plants and throwing the jar full into the chickens and experiencing manic glee as the disgusting things added protein to my feather heads’ diet.

April 17th – Feeling a little sad today for some reason. Had a dream about my old life and realized it is just a year since I left Tampa on my own two feet. Doubt I could make the trip today. I look in the mirror and I’m hardly the same girl I was. I thought all the innocence had been rubbed off of me by the death of my family. I had no idea how much I had left to lose … or to gain. I love Rand. Love him, love him, love him.

OK, obviously I’m having a momentary fit of schizophrenia. First I’m up then I’m down then I’m up again. Is this what they call the moodiness of pregnancy? No wonder Rand gives me funny looks every once in a while. Poor guy.

Rand was gone with the thresher today, he took Austin with him and Ron Harbinger came to help out as well. Ron has lost a lot of weight. I almost didn’t recognize him. Rand said he is better than he was. I haven’t seen him in a while so he must have been really bad. Hope he can wrap his head around his troubles and work through them.

When the guys got home they were starved. They were supposed to be fed by the group that “hired” the thresher for the day but it was puny fare compared to what they are used to eating. It was nothing but a then gravy over rice with a small piece of cornbread. If I had known that I would have sent a basket along for them to eat out of. You can’t work that hard and then eat next to nothing, you’ll get sick. I made Ron stay and eat too and after some encouragement and a few bites he really dug into his plate of greens, cornbread, hog jowl, and hoppin’ John over rice.

I’m off to bed now that the dinner dishes are finished. Rand and Austin were practically falling asleep on their feet after the animals were taken care of for the evening. I told them to stop pretending that they were awake and it took them both a few minutes to catch on, that’s how tired they were. And now that I’m sitting I’m getting tired myself and the quiet house is making me kind of sad again. I’m off to bed before these stupid pregnancy hormones embarrass me by making me cry.

April 18th – Yay! I feel normal today. I know that sounds just about stupid but yesterday I can’t tell you what was wrong. Up and down and up and down and up and down … it felt like I was on a teeter totter. Today I’ve been much more balanced. Which was a good thing.

I was just cover the last seed in the new row of bush beans that I got into the ground when who should show up but Momma O and Mrs. Withrow. I was surprised and more than a little embarrassed to be found sweaty and barefoot like that. I asked the ladies to have a seat in the shade of the porch, brought out some cold, sweet tea, and begged their pardon just long enough to run inside and wash up a little bit. When they saw that I had changed clothes they scolded me a bit for fussing over my appearance just because they were around but I couldn’t help it.

I had a nice visit and the long and the short of it was they wanted to know how I was feeling and if there was anything that Rand and I needed for the baby. I told them I thought we were doing pretty well all things considered, certainly better than some stories that I had been hearing. I explained that Rand had kind of “planned ahead” when we were salvaging and they both smiled like he was the smartest man they knew. I have to admit I’m fairly partial to him as well.

But they did bring up something that I need to do. I really need to go through everything for the baby and make double sure everything is ready. I also overheard them telling Rand something that I probably wasn’t supposed to hear. A young woman that had recently started coming to our church services died giving birth to a little boy. The baby lived but isn’t thriving and most likely won’t make it either.

I try and not think too hard about something like that happening; me not making it or the baby not making it or both. But the truth is I need to think about it. What will Rand do if something happens to me and he has a baby and Austin to take care of plus Sparkleberry Ranch and everything else? He’s been kind of cranky attentive tonight; snapping at me for working too hard or being on my feet too much, not eating enough or not eating more of the healthy stuff. Then he’ll turn around and practically smother me with sweetness. I know he is worried but all I can do is ultimately prove that God is watching out for us and just … live … the baby too.

But, on the other hand, just in case … I’m making the baby a memory book. I don’t feel like rewriting everything here and it is just something personal for the baby to have just in case. I also need to make sure that I do everything I can to have other stuff prepared … mixes, canned and dried foods, convenience foods, etc. so that … well … just in case. If there is some way I need to find the Judge and talk to him privately and make sure that no one can turn around and take Sparkleberry Ranch away from Rand if something happens to me. I want to make sure that people know what my wishes are.

What a way to end the day. But I have to be practical.

Chapter Eighty-Nine

2010-03-30T17:56:00.000-07:00

Chapter 89

April 3rd – I didn’t feel like writing yesterday, I was simply too overwhelmed. Geez, listen to me. I sound like that what’s-her-name … Scarlet O’Hara in that movie Gone With the Wind. “I can’t think about that right now. If I do I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about it tomorrow.” Oh please, I’m not normally this much of a drama queen but witnessing what I did yesterday was just too much.

I made some bad assumptions. I left it up to others after I’d done my part. I thought that doing my part was enough, that I’d finally acted enough that the problem would go away or at least no longer threaten Rand and I personally. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Yesterday morning Mr. Henderson rode up with Mitch and Hoss and asked to speak with Rand and I together; Austin as well since he was a witness despite still being a young boy. SueLinda and that other woman … Cali something or other … had been turned over to the military for their crimes. Unfortunately on Sunday morning they were being released because some blood sucking lawyer had proved that the military didn’t have any jurisdiction over them in this particular case.

A citizens’ group … basically a glorified posse … captured them just beyond sight of the military compound and brought them to Mr. Henderson to ship them out of town to get rid of the problem since the military wouldn’t. Mr. Henderson’s concern with that was that the two women would only hook back up with the criminal element and come back to haunt us all at a later date.

Mr. Henderson wanted to know whether I would agree to appear before a community trial and accept whatever was decided rather than seek my own revenge against SueLinda. I looked at Rand who had a very hard expression on his face.

“Rand? I … I didn’t plan this .. I …”

“I know Babe. SueLinda did this, now she can sleep in the bed she’s made for herself.”

So that’s how we all wound up spending the rest of the day outside of what is left of City Hall and the old County Jailhouse. The trial such as it was didn’t last but two hours. One hour and fifty minutes was all of the testimony regarding SueLinda’s activities, her threats against the community in general and Rand and I in particular, and how even under the current circumstances she continued to make death threats to anyone aiding and abetting their jailers. The other ten minutes were spent by the jury trying to write up an official sounding verdict and figuring out who was supposed to read it to the court.

It’s not that I hadn’t expected SueLinda to be found guilty; what I hadn’t expected was how swiftly “justice” would be carried out. Every time I think of it I want to lose my lunch. I’m pretty sure that SueLinda and that other woman didn’t expect it either. They were screaming and hollering right up to the bitter end. Within thirty minutes of the verdict being read they were swinging from the limb of an old oak tree that had grown from the acorn of another oak that had been used for that same purpose a hundred years before. The other woman died immediately. SueLinda took a while because her neck hadn’t snapped as it was supposed to have done.

Rand took us home; I walked in the house, laid down and pulled the covers over my head. A few minutes later Rand came in and lay down beside me and held me while I cried like a baby. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know Babe. I know. But it had to be done.”

I sat up, “Had to?! What’s this had to stuff?! People chose to do this. I never thought I’d see someone hung in my life Rand. That’s Old West stuff reserved for horse thieves, bank robbers, and murderers for crying out loud. I can’t believe I was a part of this.”

“And what? How did you think this was going to end? Life in prison? Who would be the jailers? Who would support that system? Where would the jail be?”

“I … I …”

“Babe, look at me. SueLinda had a choice and she made it. We as a community could not allow her actions to go unanswered.”

“But look at all the things I’ve done Rand. Am I going to find myself swinging from that tree one day?!”

“No!! No. You … look at me Babe … self defense is completely different from what SueLinda was punished for. You know it. I know you still feel guilty for some of the lives you’ve taken, so do I. But we only did it when we were faced with no other choice, generally because we were facing death ourselves. This is a completely different situation. SueLinda premeditated her actions and they were designed to destroy us. When she couldn’t accomplish what she wanted through the actions of others she finally did the dirty deed herself … and now she’s paid for it.”

He held me and then I asked him more quietly, “Where do we go from here?”

“Us or the community?”

“Both.”

“Well, we just keep doing what we’re doing, harming none unless harmed. Defending ourselves when necessary. We’ve always stayed out of other people’s business and I don’t see that changing. As for the community, hopefully this will get people to think. We’ve got a lot of folks that have just been going along, letting things degenerate into a free for all. We’ve got some people who like it like that. But we’ve also got people in this community that need protection from those that would take advantage of them … widows, orphans, old folks, and the like. All communities need rules to live by, and if you have rules you have to have consequences if those rules get broke.”

“But where does this end? I don’t want to go back to the days where people like Mr. Harbinger rode around on horses telling people what they could and couldn’t do.”

“No one does … well, no one with any sense does. Look Kiri, it didn’t get broke in one day and it isn’t going to get fixed in one day either. Hopefully what happened today was an anomaly. Most people don’t want to hurt other people just for the sake of hurting them. Most people around here don’t steal either. This was just an extreme example of what could go wrong and what our community could be facing here on out. And it might not have been a bad thing for it to happen now. Set the precedent and those refugees that are coming in might think twice before pulling a similar stunt in our community.”

“What about every place else.”

“I can’t deal with that Babe. Every place else is going to have to take care of their own just like we are doing.”

I could barely eat yesterday and what I did manage to eat came right back up when Ram, Clyde, and Bill came over to discuss their so-called business venture.

I heard Austin yell, “Rand! Kiri’s puking again!”

Rand came in, took a look at my face and said, “Bed. Now.”

And that’s where I stayed the rest of the evening. But you can’t hide from life if you plan on living it so I got up this morning and tried to not let the image of the two women swinging in the breeze get to me. Paul came over about lunch time and I overheard him and Rand talking.

“Just wanted you to know they took the bodies down about an hour ago. Some lawyer tried to drag the military back into it but didn’t have any luck because the base commander refuses to get involved with what he calls civilian affairs. The Judge had some people bury the two women out in that field behind where Walmart used to be.”

“Thanks for the letting me know.”

“Gran wants to know how Kiri is. She figures she is taking it pretty hard.”

“And then some. She wants to know where this is going to end.”

“Yeah, Gran has wondered as much herself but I don’t see as any of us were left much choice. They wouldn’t have stopped with your place. They’d just kept on and on.”

I hope that we haven’t taken the first step down a long hard road. What’s that say? The road to hell is paved with good intentions? I’ve felt that way more than a few times over the last year but now I’ve got a baby to think about. This is just my future that is being worked out, but his too.

April 4th – I’ve promised myself not to dwell on the hanging so much. It isn’t healthy. I don’t know that it is any healthier to ignore it but there has to be some middle ground where I can accept it and take precautionary note of what it could mean without it creeping into my nightmares which is what it did last night. I saw Rand and Austin and some little baby all strung up like SueLinda was. Each body had a sign that said “stepped over the line.” I could hear the creaking of the rope against the tree limb. I woke up so upset that even listening to Rand’s snoring couldn’t comfort me. I never did get back to sleep and was up and had breakfast cooking before the guys even had both eyes open. Rand knows it is still bothering me but this is something I’m just going to have to work through on my own this time.

Work has helped. The tomatoes are coming in and since I planted so many we’re going to have an abundance again this year. I also picked the first of the cauliflower, pearl onions, and sweet yellow onions. The pearl onions I pickled and canned. I braided the tops of the yellow onions together and hung them upstairs in the dormer room. I’m going to pull another row of onions tomorrow and slice them up and dry them to make dried chopped onion, dried minced onion, onion powder, and onion salt all of which I’m getting low on.

For dinner tonight I made homemade chips and salsa and bean burritos. The guys were in hog heaven but it didn’t set to well on my stomach. Guess the baby must not like the hot stuff right now. I think I’ll go to bed early and try and rest up. I haven’t felt too good today. Lack of sleep most likely.

April 5th – not lack of sleep. Stupid blood pressure.

April 6th – I’m starting to hate this bed.

April 7th – Free at last. I’m getting down right irritated at this blood pressure stuff. Ken said it was stress related. Who doesn’t have stress these days?! Just so tired all of the time. I can’t even move without running into stuff. You can see me coming around the corner before I even get there. And I’m getting this knarly stretch mark that itches all of the time. I’m putting lotion on it but Missy says that I can forget ever looking like I looked before. I didn’t want to tell her but I was no prize before I got big and fat with this baby.

But even if Ken hadn’t given the all clear I needed to be up and moving today. Tomorrow we plant peanuts and we’ve got family coming over to help. Austin is wound tighter than a top because the boys will be here. Brendon will be here too as will Clyde. Uncle George was going to be here but he’s got gout and is laid up and feeling as miserable as I did from what we hear. I’m sending home some blueberry juice when they go back. Blueberry juice isn’t as good for gout as black cherry juice is supposed to be, but it is worth a try. I looked it up in Momma’s files and Uncle George needs to drink lots of water, cut down on beans, lentils and red meat and raise his intake of dairy. Hopefully that will help. Grout sounds awful. Who wants to have a swollen and sore big toe?!

For the baking today I made several loaves of Irish Soda Bread to go with the beans, tomatoes, greens, fried corn, and venison meat loaf that will be tomorrow’s main meal. For the bread I took rough four cups of flour, one teaspoon of salt, three teaspoons of baking powder, one teaspoon of baking soda, and one quarter cup of sugar and sifted it all together. Then I used a pastry blender to cut in one quarter cup of butter which gave me a very crumbly dough. In another bowl I beat together one egg and on and three quarter cup of buttermilk. Then I stirred the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and mixed well.

Once I got it to a decent consistency I turned the dough out onto my floured bread board … nothing fancy, it’s just a cutting board that I use to knead bread on and nothing else. I kneaded the bread for about two minutes or until it was smooth. Then I divided the dough in half and formed each half into a nice round loaf.

I put each round loaf onto a greased cake pan and pressed it down a tad to flatten it out. Then I took a sharp pair of kitchen shears and cut crosses in the top of each loaf about half an inch deep. I baked the loaves for 30 minutes, maybe a tad longer, at 375 F until they were nice and browned. I did this three times so I have six loaves. It used a lot of flour but we’ve been eating so much cornmeal lately that I felt the need to splurge since we were having company.

I am completely ready for bed. We have to get up earlier than normal. Tomorrow looks like it is going to be a long, full day.

April 9th – Was too tired to write last night and haven’t had time today until now. Thank goodness the Lord planned to have at least one day off a week or I can see a lot of people just dropping in their tracks from exhaustion.

Yesterday we planted nearly five acres in peanuts. There were three kinds – runners, Virginias, and Spanish. When I heard how many pounds we were supposed to get from each acre I thought I was hearing things. Rand and the other men claim we should get about two thousand pounds of peanuts per acre. I asked what on earth they expected us to do with all those peanuts and Rand said to think of George Washington Carver. I’m ashamed to say I had to go look that one up.

I wasn’t allowed in the field and it didn’t break my heart at all. The idea of bending to plant all of those little legumes just about gave me a back ache just thinking about it. Each see is planted about two inches deep, one every three or four inches, in rows about three feet apart. In about two weeks, the first "square" of four leaflets will unfold above the peanut field and I’m really anxious to see it. I’m not the only one. Several families are going to be counting on peanut production for everything from a protein sour to oil to animal feed and other stuff beyond. Mr. Coffey said that the meal that is normally made from the pressed peanuts (left over from capturing the oil) can be ground and used by humans as well.

Thirty to forty days after the plants bloom, "pegs" form and enter the soil. The peanut shells and kernels develop and mature during the next 60 to 70 day period. Depending on the variety, 120 to 160 frost free days are required for a good crop.

The noon day meal was a hit but the guys were back at it before I could even finish my own meal and I was left looking at a lot of empty, but dirty, dishes to wash. I was at that until it was time for everyone to leave. I managed to get in a few loads of laundry at the same time but I couldn’t bend over and pick up the blasted laundry basket so I had to carry a few pieces at a time from the rinse tub to the clothes line. I’m going to ask Rand to put a basket onto a rolling table for me when he can find the time. My balance is all out of whack and bending over can lead to some interesting problems.

All three of us went to be tired. Austin nearly fell asleep in his dinner plate and he hasn’t done that in a while. Even Woofer and Fraidy were tired. Fraidy was out hunting moles and Woofer was scaring off the ravens that kept trying to get to the peanuts. Clyde took care of the ravens with some birdshot. All I can hope is that their family doesn’t come looking for them.

The same topic was raised after the church service today only with regard to the friends in low places that SueLinda had. The girls quickly found other “protectors” and moved onto another part of the river much to some men’s chagrin. I don’t think I know anyone that was using their … uh, services … but some men from Columbia county sure got bent out of shape after finding them gone. They reported that the ship was empty and had been scuttled. Looks like the river rats strike again.

I expected to receive some censure from some people but the exact opposite was true. It was like I was being surrounded and protected from something. I didn’t have to wait long to find it out. Straight from the pulpit in Ken’s sermon came the message against treachery, that we had people in our community accused of unrighteous behavior, sending lions to slaughter the innocent. I started wondering what on earth was going on because I’d never heard Ken preach like that. Then I noticed a lot of people nodding like they understood exactly what he was referring to.

“Brothers and sisters, we have had a woman in our midst who admitted with purposeful intent sharing information that she had no business sharing. Her intent was to see others in our midst harmed, even killed, for revenge. She and her common law husband have left this area, going north to find their fortune elsewhere. Let us take this as a warning to gird ourselves against such a temptation we may one day find ourselves facing. Deuteronomy, Hebrews, and Romans all tell us the Lord has said, ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay. In due time their foot will slip; their day of disaster is near and their doom rushes upon them.’”

He went on like that at length but I had a bad case of acid indigestion by the time it was all over. Momma O and Mrs. Withrow never let me out of their sight during the dinner on the grounds and I was summarily handed over to Rand when it was time to go. He was silent almost all the way home.

“Rand? What … who was Pastor Ken going on about?”

We were turning onto our lane and Rand gave a deep sigh before replying. “SueLinda had been asking around but couldn’t find out anything about our location until she started manipulating Lucretia.”

“Lucretia?! No …. No, no, no. All of this was because …”

Rand pulled on the reins and turned me to look at him, “We are not even going down that road. Lucretia made her choice. She got herself in this fix. You can’t keep getting a complex over this stuff.”

“I’m not getting a complex.” When his eyebrow did a Mr. Spock impression I said, “OK so I’ve got a little complex about this kind of stuff but Rand …”

“No but Rand … period. Babe, let this one go. Just let it go. It’s over.”

I want to believe that but, I really do but something tells me that it’s not going to be that simple.

Chapter Eighty-Eight

2010-03-19T14:05:00.000-07:00

Chapter 88

March 30th – The influx of northern refugees has begun to arrive. Rand is really bent out of shape. No, he is more than bent out of shape; he is absolutely furious. But the refugees only play a small part in why he is so bent.

We were working out in the yard when several families crossed into our land jumping the fence to the north of the homesite. They immediately made a beeline for our gardens. That stunt nearly got them killed. The fact that they had young children amongst them saved their bacon-- that and the fact they didn’t make it into the gardens. The fences are strong to keep animals and raiders out they are strong enough to keep out some pathetic refugees, otherwise bloodshed was imminent.

That alone was enough to be upsetting but what came next is what made Rand blow a gasket.

“Hey! What are you shooting at us?! The lady said we’d get food here. Now you give it to us like she said or we’re gonna take it! We haven't eaten in days!”

One of the men began to raise his gun at Rand and I, standing at a back window, fired off a warning shot that puffed the sand right between the blowhard’s feet.

“Throw it away or the next one is gonna turn you from a rooster into a hen!” I yelled out from my secure position.

Rand was still covering the three other men and Austin was armed as well. Finally their stupid cranked back a notch. They threw down their weapons and we were telling the women we weren’t going to shoot ‘em in the back or take their kids when horses came galloping down our lane.

Lucky for us it was just Mitch, Hoss, and Bradley. They’d been coming to discuss business with Rand when they’d heard the shooting and my yelling. At the sight of the men on horseback it was like someone had poured gasoline on an ant hill; the refuges started running in every which direction.

Henderson's men were all confirmed cowboys by this time and rounded up the people even faster than they would have the same number of cattle. They all started squawking at the same and Rand gave one of his piercing whistles to shut them up long enough for Mitch to get a word in edgewise. Additional men from the Henderson Ranch showed up as did Mr. Henderson himself.

It was a circular story that had to be repeated several times before we could make heads or tails of it. They didn’t know the name of the “lady” in question but given where they were when they received the information on Sparkleberry Ranch and the general description of the woman in question there was no doubt in our mind that SueLinda was behind this.

Rand was so angry I was nearly scared of him. It took Mitch and Mr. Henderson to keep him from taking off right then but it wasn’t until I had a little spell and had to sit down that he let go of his fury. I tried to tell him I was fine but in a sense it only deepened his anger, but it did keep it in check.

This whole time the refugees kept trying to justify their actions. Rand finally snarled, “You people ever thought of asking?! I’ve got a family to take care of too you know and my wife has a baby on the way. Had you come looking for work instead of a hand out you might have found what you were looking for. Now all you’ve done is make it less likely that I’d want to help you or anyone like you.” I put my hand on Rand’s arm, concerned because the anger I was seeing was so unlike him. “No Kiri, they can go to the blasted migrant farm and work for a living. They put you and the baby and Austin in danger and I won’t abide that, not for any reason. Henderson! Get them off my land before I do something we’ll all regret.”

Rand was snarling and spitting like a cat by that point; so unlike himself that I was at a loss as to what to do. He slammed his hat down on his head and stalked off to the wood pile and started slamming the big ax so hard into a stump that he’d been cutting up that I thought he was after making us some toothpicks.

Mitch caught me staring and said, “He’ll come around, just give him time.”

I looked at him and whispered, “I’ve … I’ve never seen him like this Mitch. I understand this could have gone badly it but didn’t . I’m usually the one that is all bent out of shape and he’s the one that is calm, cool, and collected.”

“It’s different when a man sees his home under attack. But the truth is Kiri you are getting a peek at the old Rand, the angry young man he was when he was a teenager. There were plenty of times when I pulled him and … and Chase out of stuff and Rand would be just like this. He’s done a lot of growing up Kiri and you’ve done amazing things for him but every once in a while a man’s got a reason to get angry and this is one of those times so the old Rand is coming out. Give him time to cool off. He’ll be fine.”

That wasn’t a lot of comfort but at least it was a little bit of explanation. As for “cooling off” he hasn’t done much of that. He’s trying but he is still really angry. He’s not taking it out on Austin or I – he played a round of checkers with Austin and acted like he was listening to the next chapter of Johnny Tremain that I was reading aloud. But I could tell, even Austin could tell, he was still wound tight. The only reason Rand is asleep now is because he is exhausted. He works from before sun up to after sun down and with the days growing longer that means the hours worked are growing as well.

I understand why Rand is angry I’m just not sure I understand why he is angry the way he is. I can guess and it all goes back to SueLinda. It might make some women jealous, the amount of energy he’s devoted to being angry at this woman, but not me. I’m resentful but of SueLinda, not at Rand. I’m telling you though, if he catches up with her tomorrow, I hope there is someone there to stop him. I’m a little worried that he is so angry that he really will do something he’ll regret.

March 31st – Stupid, stupid, stupid. And I was worried about Rand.

April 1st – Wish I could lay this all at the door of some bad April’s Fool joke but nope, I’ve gone and done it again. The problem is that I’m not real sure I regret it, any of it. I’m tired of being sorry for being me. And I’ll be doggone if I’ll apologize to that hellcat. I hope her face is wrecked for good … well, maybe not, but maybe a little bit I do. I don’t know. I don’t know quite how I feel about it at this point.

Missy came over early in the morning yesterday to discuss some pre-orders and to see about maybe paying me to make some general stock to keep at the Shack. It would be a little bit of speculating on her part but she thinks that she can catch a few more customers with impulse buys.

“If the women could just see what it is that they are pre-ordering that might also help encourage some sales. I can understand the not wanting to buy a pig in a poke. Oh here,” she said bringing in a satchel of material, “I brought more cotton cloth for the bras and under clothes. Some of this stuff is really light weight so maybe you can put some lace around the edges and stuff? Could be used for Sunday wear and the heavier muslin cloth can be used for every day. Hey … where’s Rand off to this time of day? Got another field to mow?”

“No,” I said, glad she had finally stopped talking long enough for me to decide whether to ask her about SueLinda. She’d also given me the perfect opening.

We’d been gossiping for over an hour while we planned out what I could trade at the Shack that would likely bring in the greatest return when I heard wagon wheels coming down our road a little fast. It’s funny, with cars gone wagon wheels are now as distinct as engine noises were. I knew right away that the wagon wasn’t ours … especially since it was sitting in the barn … and I also knew it wasn’t one that I had heard before. It was too quiet and for some reason that disturbed me.

Then I heard Austin try to get a yell out only to have it cut off … and Woofer’s snarl and then yelp. The next sound though sent ice right through me. SueLinda had a snarl to match Woofer’s. “Take it all. I want it all. What we don’t take, destroy it.”

Missy said she made a grab for me but I brushed her off and put my hands on the .357 that I kept in my kitchen. It was loaded with hollow points. It didn’t look as fancy as the one Rand had but Clyde said it was just as powerful and the hollow points are the kind of bullets that make a mess of whatever they hit. Missy grabbed my rifle.

I peeked out the window and saw Austin fighting the woman. She had him around the throat with one arm and her other hand over his mouth. As I watched she turned loose of him just long enough to grab him by the hair and slap him across the face several times before putting him back in the choke hold. I didn’t know what had happened to Woofer, if he had still been mobile he would have already ripped SueLinda’s throat out.

One of the men was heading into the barn and I couldn’t let him. I didn’t see a weapon on SueLinda but a quick thought had me pocketing the .357 into my apron and grabbing the rifle from Missy. She fought me briefly for it but she let go when she saw the look in my eyes. I went into the Great Room, cracked the door, and with a couple of shots took the back of the guy’s head off. It happened so fast. The other man turned, pulling a gun and I put three rounds in his torso. I noticed another women running away and I put a round in her big backside and she went down squalling.

I was gone away in my head. I had had all I was going to take from this woman. “Austin, kick her in the shins and bite her hand. Jam a thumb in her eye if she won’t let go.”

SueLinda was so shocked at what she’d walked into that she didn’t even think to defend herself when Austin followed my instructions to the letter.

Missy later said that I was just about the scariest thing she’s ever seen; strangely she meant it as a compliment. As soon as Austin was clear I raised the rifle and told SueLinda, “You have just used up the last of your nine lives. Isn’t it enough that you bring up bad memories for Rand every time your name is mentioned? You have been in my face and Rand’s face since you showed up around here. You’ve instigated and started rumors. You’ve done your level best to cause problems. Now you sic those poor people on us and when that doesn’t work you have the nerve to show up here, at our home, and just steal what doesn’t belong to you? Are you out of your mind or do you just have a death wish?!”

All she did was snarl at me. For a microsecond I was tempted to send her to her Maker but then I thought of Rand and knew that I had to give him time to resolve this in some other way. But I’ll be doggone if I’m going to stand there and let myself be attacked … even if I wasn’t pregnant. I switched the safety to on, switched the rifle around and swung it like a bat. As she made the move to jump me I caught her a hard crack that apparently broke her cheek bone, her jaw, broke some teeth, and cut that side of her face up pretty good. It also knocked her out cold.

I stood there heaving and then promptly threw up all over my own shoes because I couldn’t seem to move.

Austin was stumbling back under the weight of Woofer; that gave me something to focus on. He was crying … Austin, not Woofer. Woofer was out of it. “They shot him. They shot him.”

“Easy Austin, I don’t see any blood,” I tried to reassure him.

“It was some kind of dart. I pulled it out and brought Woofer home. Can you fix him Kiri?!”

“Austin, calm down. Let’s lay Woofer on the porch. Come on. Now, put your hand on his chest … feel it going up and down? Feel his heart? I think … I think it was just some kind of tranq gun, like animal control used to use … the dog catcher. Why don’t you sit with him and keep him out of the sun. He might be out for a while but I’m sure he’ll be happy to know that you are looking after him. OK?”

When I turned around there was Missy. She couldn’t decide whether to smile or look stern. In the end she just sighed and said, “I tied witchy poo up. You better come up with a good one. Rand is going to go nuclear.”

Oh, nuclear didn’t even come close. He was hollering and bellowing so loud and so fast that I couldn’t even understand half of what he was saying. I’d barely had time to clean my boots up when the thunder of a bunch of hooves came down the lane. The woman that I had shot in the rear end had escaped on us but gotten caught by some of Mr. Henderson’s men and spilled the story. She didn’t care that she was incriminating herself, she just wanted away from the crazy, fat girl that lived down the lane.

And of course Henderson’s men had radioed it in and then Rand got wind of it … and Bill did too which was fun watching Missy get basically the same treatment as I did. However Missy turned the table on Bill and said that if the men in the community wouldn’t spend so much ever loving time watching SueLinda’s girls’ nether regions we wouldn’t be in this situation. Missy is a piece of work. By the time she was through every man there felt guilty whether they had any reason to or not.

Except for Rand. He was still snorting and snarling and I was very tempted to tell him I didn’t feel well … but that would have been an out and out lie. I was feeling better than I had in a while. That doesn’t say much for my character I’m sure but nevertheless it’s true. Instead I stood there and let him wind down.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?!”

“Rand, you’re right. SueLinda is a nasty person. The situation was horrible. People could have been hurt. If it hadn’t been as bad as it was I never would have done what I did.”

That shut his mouth so I continued. “I’m standing here because you’ve helped me get to the point where I’m a capable woman. This is our home. Had you been here you would have done what I did … except maybe the bang up side of SueLinda’s head. But you were off trying to prevent the situation from escalating. SueLinda however is unreasonable and chose to make the situation what it is. I knew you would be along shortly and that is what gave me the courage to do what had to be done. You’ve worked too hard, I’ve worked too hard, to get where we are. There comes a time when you have to put up or shut up. You and I have said everything we could to keep SueLinda at bay … she refused. That’s all there is to it.” Then I walked into his arms in front of everyone startling him to no end since he knows public displays make me uncomfortable. “Thank you Rand for teaching me the skills I need to survive and that I am capable of doing what has to be done.”

I got some mumbled response in return but he hugged me back, though it was a kind of sideways hug since my belly is getting in the way of just about all the fun stuff these days.

Rand is still upset. Not at me, just at the entire situation. Austin is better after Ken looked Woofer over. The drug wasn’t long lasting but we have to keep an eye on him a couple of days just to be on the safe side. The boy and dog went to bed early, both of them feeling the effects of too much excitement.

After Austin was asleep Rand worked off his fear by keeping me close and then closer still. It was good for both of us. It was comfort and being comforted, making needed connections that run deeper than words. It was accessing the intimacy that reassured both of us that we were still here, still together, still operating as a team.

Today has been a little trying. Rand has insisted that I relax and not do much. It was a swap meet day but we didn’t attend. I should have done laundry today but Rand said forget it. I had a lot of planting to do today also but Rand put a chair out in the garden and would only let me direct the work, not participate in it.

What I was allowed to do was sit in the shade and prepare the carrots and broccoli that was picked so it could go on the dehydrator. Monday I’ll be canning carrots whether Rand is ready for me to or not. I cannot get behind. In fact I need to get ahead as much as possible because everything I’m hearing about having babies – both the birth part and the raising part – says they are an awful lot of work and take a whole lot of time and attention. That means I’ll have even less time to do the necessary work. But I’m not going to think about that motherhood stuff right now. I’m wiggy enough as it is.

Mitch came by today after the swap meet. Some folks were worried that either I was sick or that we weren’t sure of our reception out in the community and he was the one that got volunteered to do the checking. Rand popped off a little bit and said, “Ask me how much I care whether anyone in the ‘community’ disapproves of the fact that SueLinda got what was coming to her.”

“Easy Rand. You’ve got it wrong. I know for a fact that there are plenty of women that are ready to defend Kiri to anyone that might be stupid enough to say she did anything other than what SueLinda forced her to do. Most of them are saying they would have simply pulled the .357 and put a period to a rabid animal.”

I thought that was taking it a little far and broke in, “Aw Mitch, that’s a bit much. Rabid animals can’t control themselves. SueLinda could have, she simply chose not to.”

“I don’t disagree with you there. I hope you know that brother of yours is three-quarters crazy too.”

“Oh no, what has Ram done now.” I looked over at Rand for support only I caught a look before he was able to hide it. “Rand! What are you and Ram up to?”

Mitch decided that he’d best make a quick exit which told me that whatever it was I wasn’t likely to be enamored of it. “Rand …”

“Easy Kiri. It isn’t that bad.”

“Uh huh.”

“Ram needed a little backing and he’s going to make a few business deals.”

“Uh huh.”

“I took some of those Sand Dollars left over from what Mr. Barnes sent. Gave them to Ram to invest.”

“Uh huh … and …”

“Look, SueLinda is able to attract the business that she does not just because of her ‘girls’ but because she runs a pretty profitable black market operation. Ram is just … instigating a bit and creating some competition.”

“He’s what? And you’re backing him?”

“We are … I know we didn’t discuss it but I had to make the decision quick.”

“Rand, you know I don’t know doodly about the money stuff. I trust you with that … no, don’t go getting all righteously indignant, I’m not in the mood for it and you sure aren’t going to use it to distract me from figuring out what you and Ram are up to.”

“Aw Babe.”

“Don’t ‘aw Babe’ me Rand Joiner. I expect this kind of craziness out of Ram but if that crazy hermano is going to start dragging you into it … all too willingly apparently … I’m gonna at least know what it is and have my say on it.”

At his continued discomfort and the fact that he was taking so long to come up with a story I figured it out for myself and I was NOT happy. “Tell me … oh tell me … that Ram hasn’t talked you into investing in some crazy scheme to take over the black market that SueLinda was operating.”

“We aren’t black marketers, we’re legitimate businessmen.”

“I am going to skin that crazy …”

“Calm down. The only part I’m involved in is as a financial backer. You said you trust me.”

“Of course I trust you so don’t do the puppy dog eyes thing. That’s not what I’m upset about. Rand you and I both know that those river smugglers are nothing to fool with. Not even the military messes with them unless they get out of hand too far inland. I can’t believe that you’d intentionally get involved with something like that! What if they take a mind to weed out of the competition and catch you … you or Ram … out someplace and … deal with you?”

“Babe, I’m not the only backer that Ram has.”

“Who else has he talked into this madness?!”

“Bill, Clyde, Mr. Henderson, Mr. Coffey.”

“What?!”

“Babe, listen to me. Something has to be done. They are beginning to blockade sections of the river making it next to impossible to get things unless you run it overland or pay them for 'protection.' We are doing fine but most people have to trade for what they need. Henderson has run into the problem several times and he’s looking at this as a nonviolent way of dealing with the problem.”

“I don’t think those river smugglers know how to be nonviolent.”

“Be that as it may, let’s give it a try. One way or the other this can’t continue and I’d rather be on the side that makes a difference … and potentially a profit … than on a side that just sits around letting those criminals just take over things.”

So. I’m not sure what to think. I guess we have to give this a try but I have a bad feeling that this is just a stopgap measure than is only going to force the violence to come to a head sooner rather than later.

Chapter Eighty-Seven

2010-03-19T14:04:00.000-07:00

Chapter 87

March 25th – It’s been a full week since I last had time to sit down and write anything. If it hasn’t been one thing it’s been another. We have a nasty cold running through the house. Austin came down with it first so more than likely he picked it up from some of the boys at the last swap meet and Rand and I got it a couple of days later. As a matter of fact one of the reasons why I’ve stopped long enough to write is because Pastor Ken came by and basically said either I willingly got off my feet or he would order me off my feet. Rand overheard what he said and that’s all she wrote but only because Rand has learned how to handle me. I know he is handling me and he knows that I know he is handling me and also knows the only reason he can get away with that is because I let him. He gives me the pathetic puppy face. He looks so serious sometimes I can’t help but laugh and give in.

Sunday we took the wagon over to Uncle George’s and visited with them for a little while. Laurabeth was a little overwhelmed and I flat out told her that if it was too much I’d ask Rand to leave early. That seemed to draw her up short and she said, “No. Don’t do that. I just … all the noise and sometimes … someone is always watching me and it makes me feel even crazier than I already am. I understand why they’re doing it but I still don’t like it. I hate being stared at. Having more people do it just makes it worse.”

“So long as you’re sure. I hate being stared at too and understand about that. Look,” I said checking to see if anyone was listening. “Um, you wouldn’t happen to mind me asking you some … um … questions would you?”

“About … about what?”

I finally screwed up my courage and said, “Baby stuff.”

“Baby stuff? You mean like … oh … you mean like taking care of them and things like that?”

Relieved she understood I said, “Yes, please. Alicia seems to be living in her own world and only blushes when she thinks anyone is going to talk about that stuff. Missy … well, you know Missy. She’d answer my questions but then she’d be the one making me blush. I just want to talk to someone that has some common sense and won’t make me feel as dumb as a stump.”

For some reason she thought that was funny and it was the first time in a long time I heard her laugh. It wasn’t much of one but it was definitely a laugh. “Sure. Come into the bedroom and if anyone asks I’ll just say I’m changing Stevie. He needs it anyway. So, what did you want to ask?”

“How do you do … that …feed the baby I mean.”

“Oh. Well, they do most of the work. You just have to be careful they don’t make you raw.” My eyes must have gotten big because she grinned and went into more detail of what she meant. After a while we were comfortable enough that I could ask her how she was doing, really doing.

“there are days when I feel like I’m going to be OK and days that I … don’t. How did you … you know … live after your family died like that?”

I was very careful with my answer. I wanted to be honest but I didn’t want to scare her either. “I had a hard time for a while. People … I didn’t have any family support. My ‘aunt and uncle’ were really my dad’s cousins and did the best they could I suppose but, for me it wasn’t good enough. So I floundered around trying to put one foot in front of the other and I made a lot of mistakes along the way. I learned a lot but to be honest, I’m still undoing some of the junk that I tied myself up with. The one thing above all others that has always stuck with me is that …” and it still choked me up to talk about it. “…my parents and brother loved me. They wouldn’t have wanted for me the kind of hell I put myself through. It took a long time for me to see that. Maybe longer because I didn’t have anyone that actually sat me down and explained that to me.”

Laurabeth was looking out the window. “Jonathon loved you. And he was a guy with lots of commonsense. And you know that he’s in Heaven with the baby. I can’t say what your future holds Laurabeth but I know that whatever it is you can know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Jonathon wouldn’t hold you living a good life against you. In fact, that’s exactly what he would have wanted you to do in his memory.”

“Kiri, do you think … I mean … do you think that Ron can say the same thing about … about Julia? He doesn’t show it but I think in some ways he’s … Kiri, sometimes I think the only reason he remembers to breathe is because he has it in his head that he’s going to look after Stevie. And maybe after me too. I think he’s more tortured than … than … I’m scared for him sometimes. He’ll read to me out of the Bible when I’m feeling really bad but it’s like … like he won’t let himself hear the Words or feel the comfort. I’m afraid it is because … he doesn’t think he deserves them.”

Yeah, that gave me lots to think about. After Austin went to bed that night , early because he was tired though we didn’t know he was just starting to get sick too, I talked it over with Rand. I could tell he was listening but at the same time he was thinking that it was just “women talk” and us guessing when it came to Ron’s state of mind.

Next day started the cold for Austin and by the end of the day Rand and I weren’t feeling too chipper either. Cold or not, Sparkleberry Ranch still needed tending. Rand worked around the house laid down when he got too tired. Austin I kept in bed for a few days and he mostly just slept. It gave me time to work at my own pace in the garden and I could tell we were just about to head into a period of some heavy dehydrating and canning going on. Tuesday I planted a bunch more rows of dried beans. Wednesday I got some sewing done but not as much as I wanted to. The treadle just hurt my head too much, I had a bad sinus headache, so I sat out on the front porch and did some mending and crocheted a small lace edge on a sun bonnet for the baby.

Thursday I should have been cleaning the house but I just didn’t feel like being inside. Austin and Rand didn’t either but they, like me, didn’t have a whole lot of energy for things that weren’t absolutely essential. Rand did do some hunting but the game isn’t quite as sparse as it used to be but you can still tell the area has been over hunted. There probably wouldn’t be an edible game animal in the area if bullets weren’t getting scarce enough that people are holding onto the ammo they have.

What I did on Thursday was putter around in my flowers. I planted the caladium bulbs under some of the trees our front of the house. I planted impatiens in the shadiest flower beds on the far side of the house, but off to the side so that the lantana wouldn’t overwhelm them. I sprinkled phlox and gallardia seeds all over the property since they tend to do best when you leave them alone. The marigolds that I had started in the greenhouse got interplanted with rows of growing things out in the garden. And my daylily bed got spruced up and muched.

Friday it was back to serious work since late in the day on Thursday, after I had planted the marigolds, I started harvesting the English peas. Not enough have come in for me to can yet, that’ll be next week, but we had creamed peas for lunch yesterday and it was just right for everyone’s appetite.

Today has been laundry. I still don’t feel one hundred percent but I couldn’t put off washing the sheets or Rand’s and Austin’s work clothes. All three of us also took good baths and scrubbed away what we could of the lingering cold. It is still a little chilly at night and I didn’t want any wet heads to bring the colds back full force.

Tomorrow is a church service Sunday. I debated on going but Rand says he needs to so that he can get his work schedule for the next couple of weeks arranged. We have a lot of our own work to do as well in the coming weeks. We will be planting a large field of peanuts and we hope to harvest all the grains that we planted back in October.

I’m going to wear a new dress to church tomorrow. It might be a really girly thing to do but I just can’t wear a pair of old, unbuttoned overalls and a flannel shirt for people like Momma O and Mrs. Withrow to see. I tried it on tonight thinking I would need to take it in a little on top and doggone if I haven’t grown even more up there. This is ridiculous. I feel like I’ve been taken over by an alien.

March 26th – So much for a calm day. In the middle of Ken’s sermon one of Mr. Henderson’s men came in and said there had been an attack on the military compound. The attack had been repelled but the raiders – or whatever they were – were dispersing into the community. Everyone packed up as quickly as possible and headed back to their places to make sure that nothing happened.

We saw some strangers going by on horses but just because they were strangers didn’t mean they were the raiders. One of them was a very capable looking woman but again, that didn’t necessarily mean that they were raiders. On the other hand we didn’t take any chances. Mitch Peters came along with a few men and “escorted” the strangers out of the area just to make sure they didn’t get waylaid by people getting the wrong idea.

We are all locked up tight and have our bowl of popcorn to enjoy. My kitchen counters are full of things to that need to be dried and canned tomorrow. We’ve learned the hard way not to leave anything in the garden. Gonna be a busy day tomorrow.

March 28th – Yesterday was a nightmare. Just a complete and total nightmare. There was a mouse in my kitchen. I got up and went in there to start breakfast and there was the little beasty sitting on my counter eating my English peas!!! It was horrible. I screamed loud enough to be heard in Columbia County.

After all the ruckus died down Rand nearly fell over laughing. I still don’t think it is very funny but he said it was like one of those “Funniest Home Video” shows. I screamed and they came running and when they got there I was running around the kitchen with a broom yelling, “Kill it! Kill it!!” Woofer had come running too and was knocking over chairs and baskets trying to catch the little evil vermin for me. We made a bigger mess catching the mouse than the mouse had on his own.

I emptied every cabinet and hauled everything out of the kitchen until I realized that the cover had come off the floor drain and that is how the nasty little thing must have gotten in. Evil I tell you. Fraidy is moving back inside and I don’t care what she has to say about it.

Actually she has been a good sport after having a mild conniption after first. We put the kittens in a box in the spare room and since we haven’t bothered them since seems satisfied. Woofer was happy to share his bowl of leftovers with Momma Fraidy, I think he was lonesome for her. I’m not so worried about our little cat family either.

I hope that is the only mouse that has come in. Just to be on the safe side I’ve been sprinkling cayenne pepper seeds and mint and spearmint in all the cabinets.

March 29th – More baby sewing. I felt all mushy while I was doing it. The baby is getting more and more real. I mean he’s been real before now but it seems that as far away as his being born is, it still isn’t time enough for me to get everything done before he gets here.

Rand was gone all day today. He and Austin went to do some mowing and tomorrow they are going to go plow two fields … one in the morning and one in the afternoon. We aren’t the only ones preparing to plant. Mr. Coffey is going to plant a couple of really big fields of peanuts and cut his production of sorghum accordingly. We still have sorghum left over from his last harvest and hopefully it will last us a while longer yet.

I wonder what that is going to do for its trade value at the swap meets? Right now there is plenty if you are willing to trade for it so while it has a high trade value there isn’t any shortage. Next season that could be different depending on how many are growing sorghum for their personal use. I heard on Sunday at the dinner table that the people in their co-op (I’m kind of at a loss what else to call them since the all tend to throw their work together on big projects like this) are going to be planting a big field of it. In addition to the seed heads for people food as well as animal feed, and the stalks for the juice to make syrup with, they were talking about trying to use the remaining biomass in ethanol production. It might not net them much ethanol but they could build a central refrigeration unit or fill a tractor engine.

Rand started our ethanol still up a few days ago. He’s starting with a traditional mash made of corn, yeast … well, all the stuff you’d use to make moonshine. A few more days and we’ll have something … but we’ll have to see if it will actually burn clean enough to operate an engine. One of Rand’s recent acquisitions has been several plastic fuel drums. Once he figures out if this works, he’ll start storing the ethanol first for our own use, then for trade.

Another project that Rand is working on getting the parts for is a biomass briquette production set up. It made my head hurt trying to understand what he was so excited about. Mr. Coffey, his son, and Rand were talking about it before the church service on Sunday. Basically they plan on taking dried biomass … like peanut shells, sawdust, wood chips, soy bean husks, etc. … and then you process and press the stuff into a hollow cylinder using a screw press. The briquettes can then be used to operate a steam engine. The problem is that you have to have fuel to operate the briquette maker that they’ve designed (Mr. Coffey’s son and Rand are going in shares for the parts) which is where the ethanol comes in. After the briquette machine is completely operational then they’ll convert the briquette machine to using the biomass briquettes in a steam engine so it will basically be producing enough briquettes to fuel its own production.

Rand “found” a really old team engine tractor. The old woman just wants someone to help her and her grandchildren out and could care less about the old junk her husband – dead over twenty years – left in the barn. He’s been hauling it home a few parts at a time in exchange for keeping her property mowed and plowing her garden. The tires on this thing are very strange and the overall size of the thing is huge. Rand is going to have to build a pole barn for the tractor alone. When the tractor is up and running Rand says we’ll be sitting on gold. I don’t know about that but it sounds like he won’t have to work so hard and that’s good to me. We don’t get to spend near as much time together as we used to, it makes me a little anxious and sad … and lonesome.

For my part in trying to add to our family’s “wealth” I’ve been drying a bunch of stuff the last week or so; beets, English peas, greens, turnips, and today I harvested several bunches of celery. It has been so long since I’ve had fresh celery that I had a really hard time not eating a whole bunch … literally. There are days that I could just graze from sun up to sun down. I have to be careful though because gaining too much weight with the baby could be just as bad as gaining too little according to Ken. I’ve got a cleaner bill of health than I had before. Blood pressure is all under control and I’m feeling better too.

The one thing I’m not feeling so good about is that Rand brought word that SueLinda’s business isn’t the only unsavory one that is springing up along a certain section of the river. There’s gambling, a few saloon type bars, and a black market warehouse. Because of the goods they have for sale or trade there they are pulling business away from the Trade Shack. Bill and Missy aren’t hurting, they run a legitimate business and provide a real service, but when people start bartering for luxuries they have less to trade for their needs. The military supposedly keep a close eye on what is happening but claim they really don’t have any jurisdiction over them unless they become a threat to the community’s general peace and safety. I suppose that depends on how you look at it and whose yardstick you are using to measure it by.

Chapter Eighty-Six

2010-03-07T19:00:00.000-08:00

Chapter 86

March 18th – Well, the swap meet was what it was; some good, some bad. When we got up and got going this morning the road was as bad as we expected it to be. The only place on the road that was bad was right there at the gully but there were a couple of places on the forty that had developed a bad habit of holding water. Rand said he and Austin would dig a couple of them out to see if there was clay underneath and if it was worth trying to dig the clay out, if not they’d haul in some more lime rock.

Our road isn’t the only one in sad shape. A road crew hasn’t been out to do any kind of road repair in well over a year now. Some of the road bed is showing through in places on the county roads and the highways. Of course, explosions and fires haven't exactly helped the conditions of the roads. After a particularly bad stretch I asked Rand to let me out and I would walk. He thought I was joking until he turned around and saw me holding my belly. He got upset and said he should have brought the buggy because at least it had a little bit of suspension but I reminded him that if he made any large purchase there wouldn’t be anything to put it in with the buggy.

Lucky for me the road got a little smoother the closer we got to the swap meet area. There was a bad dip where we had to leave the road but that was it. I still had to make a dash to the outhouses that had been dug. I swear it is just plain embarrassing how often I have to stop and go to the bathroom these days. Missy warned me that is only going to get worse until after the baby is born and everything goes back where it is suppose to. Isn’t that just jolly.

I pulled up and it took me a second to get ready to get out of the wagon. I hid the fact that my side was burning by acting like I was gathering stuff up but I only fooled Austin. Rand leaned over the wagon side and asked quietly, “You OK? You want to …”

“I’m fine. I just feel stupid is all.”

“That isn’t all, you’re hurting again aren’t you.”

Rather than lie I told him, “Some … but it will go away, it always does. Look, that … that SueLinda … she’s not around is she?”

“Why? Oh. Babe, don’t let what she said get to you please … please. I know it’s selfish to ask you to forget about what I did last time I …”

“Rand, that’s already forgotten. I just don’t feel like being embarrassed when she points out how fat I am. I can’t even fit into the overalls anymore and, well, you know what I mean.”

“One, you aren’t fat you’re pregnant. Two, you’re pregnant with my baby. Three, you look dang sexy to me … as a matter of fact if you want to go on home …”

“Now you are just being silly … but thank you. I really don’t know why I care what anyone says, it’s not like it’s ever mattered. I just don’t … I … this is stupid, I just don’t want her to see my big fat behind trying to get out of the wagon again.”

“Aw Babe. Look, I don’t know why I didn’t think about it but next time I’ll figure out some steps or something. But, I like being able to hold you so everyone in the world can see … “

“Rand! What if someone sees?!”

“Let ‘em. We’re married.”

“What is wrong with you?!” I asked him turning bright red as he finally put me on the ground and stood in front of me so I could fix my clothes. I swear lately every time we start talking about my belly he starts thinking about you know what. Missy noticed later in the day and I like to have died; but she only laughed and said Bill was the same way. I asked her if it was pheromones or something scientific like that. She said no, that it was testosterone and guys were just impressed with their fertility or something equally obnoxious. I don’t really mind it I just wish he wouldn’t do it out in public. People already look at me like I’ve got three heads, I don’t want them thinking that Rand is crazy and that’s just exactly what they’ll think. I mean, why else would he act like that?

But that was later, first we had to actually get into the swap meet. They had to move it further away from the parking area so that they could enlarge the vendor area. And instead of a horseshoe shape or circle they now had aisles to walk up and down. I’m not sure I like it but it certainly let’s more folks set up booths in a certain amount of space. They put Bill and Missy’s place and Clyde’s trailer on the very outside since they generated so much business but folks still got all bunched up.

Austin went off to hang out with some of the boys – the father of the boy that was a scout master had promised to teach them to shoot a bow and arrow – in an area that had been specifically roped off away from the vendors and the fast food carts. There was also another roped off area and it was specifically for the little kids; that was next to an area that Pastor Ken had set up. The kids had organized games as well as free play while their parents could talk to Ken if they felt the need. Some of the men and women just came to watch the kids play. Ken had said that for most of the watchers it was a healthy way to deal with their grief … a lot of children and grandchildren had been lost to the flu.

Rand and I looked at the new way the vendor tables were set up and we decided to drift back to where Missy and Bill had their trailer set up. Missy called me behind their table and in the pretense of paying attention to Billy … not that I didn’t think he was a cut butterball … I handed off the pre-orders to her. “Do you know that I could have gotten two dozen orders for that lingerie already?”

I looked at her and then asked, “So what’s the rest of the story? It isn’t like you or Bill to turn down a deal.”

“I recognized the woman. She works for SueLinda. Profit or not I don’t want anything to do with her so called business. And even if she wasn’t into that kind of trade I’d pass on it, family sticks together.”

“Oh Missy,” I whispered. “I don’t want you and Bill to …”

“Don’t sweat it girl. It’s about family. Besides, how would it look if I was to start making money – even if it was indirect – off of that kind of trade? I can’t afford the hassle I would get from Momma O and Mrs. Withrow much less the rest of our female customers.” That made me smile. Missy really would have done it just because of family … but it didn’t hurt that her decision was reinforced by making it a good business decision.

“What’s in the other basket?” she asked me.

“Just some stuff to use for trade. If I can’t use it I’ll bring it back and see if you can use any of it here.”

Rand and I took off to look at the different tables but then he looked at me, “Do you … um … do you mind that we are hanging out together?”

I looked at him confused at first and then realized what he was trying to do. “Rand I like spending time with you. If you are with me because you want to be that’s good … but don’t feel that you have to if you want to go off and talk to the men.”

“Weeellllll … how about we walk through the next aisle and then I’ll take off over to there and you can … you know … do your thing.”

I smiled to let him know that it was a plan.

“Well if it isn’t the two love birds.”

The morning had been pretty good until she showed up. Rand was really angry really fast … about as fast as I’ve ever seen him get mad but I still managed to grab him before he popped off. I did something I don’t normally do and got up under his arm like he had it draped around my shoulders then leaned my head against him and said, “Brrr, where did that wind come from? Let’s move Honey, it smells kind of … odd. I don’t think where ever it is coming from is too healthy.”

Rand looked at me and scrunched his eye brows but after a second gave me a half smile and we kept walking, ignoring SueLinda. She didn’t like that at all but the older woman that was with her grabbed her arm and they changed directions and walked in the opposite direction we did. The first table I stopped at was a stationery booth. They had all sorts of paper, envelopes, writing tablets, pencils and erasers, and mechanical pens. But they also had quills, glass dip pens, and bamboo dip pens. Best of all they had inks, some store-bought but most of them looked homemade. It was like going Christmas shopping.

But they wanted what I thought was a whole lot for their inks … a whole lot. They were even trading in Sand Dollars which is how much they wanted for their wares. Besides, we had things that we needed and that ink was just a want. Momma O and her family were running a booth trading seeds and seedlings and were doing a brisk business. That wasn’t what I was after so I waved and kept going.

I passed booths trading tools, building materials, scrap metal bits and pieces like flashing (I wrote down who it was to tell Rand about it), block and tackle, fishing gear, then I caught up with Rand who was standing looking at a table full of feed samples. I touched him on the arm and he introduced me around and all the men were mannerly and tipped their hats if they had them, nodded their head if they didn’t.

“Babe, didn’t you say that you could make millet into flour or into a cereal?”

“Well … yeah. And you had millet cereal for breakfast the other day.”

The man behind the counter said, “I never heard of making flour out of it but me da’ told me of eating the stuff back during the Depression when they didn’t have nothing else ter eat. He wouldn’t touch the stuff for anything else but animal feed after that.”

I stuck close to Rand but felt forced to reply, “It is a bit like eating birdseed until you get used to it but I use millet flour to make the little wheat flour we have go further. You can do the same thing with soy beans – like those you have there – of course the flour they make doesn’t have any gluten in it but there are some people that can’t have gluten anyway.”

“Well then Missus Joiner, how do ye make the millet flour.”

“The easiest way is to toast the seeds in a skillet a little, cool them all the way, and then grind them. The longer you grind them the finer the flour. You can get it just about as fine as cornstarch if you have the arm for it. If I was making pastry dough I’d take the time to do that but since I just use it for bread I don’t both grinding it that fine.”

I heard one man say to another, “Have to tell the wife, she’s on me about needing flour every time I turn around and the wheat is dat blamed expensive.”

Another man with a two-year old strapped to his back in a carrier asked, “What about that cereal, can you feed it to little kids?”

“Sure, they eat the stuff in lots of places around the world. In a dry skillet toast about a half cup of whole millet seed. Put the toasted millet in a bag and then roll them with a rolling pin until they are ground as fine as you want them. In a saucepan bring one and a half cup of water to a boil and add the ground millet, a pinch of salt, a half teaspoon of ground cinnamon, a pinch of ground nutmeg, and a half teaspoon of ground cardamom. Turn the heat down to simmer, cover and then simmer for fifteen minutes. If all of the water is absorbed before the cereal is tender then add a tablespoon or two of water at a time until you get the consistency that you want.”

The man was looking pretty desperate and said, “Could you write that down?”

I looked at Rand but he only grinned, “Um, I guess, sure.” I pulled out my handy dandy notepad and pencil – I never leave home without it – and copied it out like I had said it. After Rand and I drifted away I found out the man had lost his wife to the flu was raising the baby girl who was two, and two little boys who were five and six years old. There had been another little boy who would have been three but he died with his mother. The poor man has his hands full.

“He was seeing a woman from Columbia County, a friend of his wife’s who lost her husband around the same time he lost his wife, but she up and married a neighbor that didn’t have any kids. I guess she just didn’t want the responsibility of raising another woman’s set of children,” Rand whispered, explaining things to me. “He has a pretty decent place, just doesn’t have the time to develop it much because he has to take care of his little ones.”

I was chewing over that when we finally came to a vendor that I really needed to chat with. Here was the lady that was the spinner and weaver. It wasn’t cheap, it cost a couple of quarts of sorghum, but I came away with several spools of good cotton thread. I knew it was good because it required some strength to break the thread; cheap or loosely spun thread breaks and pulls apart real easy.

Rand kissed the top of my head and took off when he spotted a vendor that was looking to barter a bunch of old tools. Yep, just like my Daddy. I wandered on and then came to a vendor trading books. That’s when I realized that we still hadn’t done anything about schooling for Austin. He wasn’t doing too badly as one of the things that we liked to do at the end of the day was read a book chapter or two out loud. His reading and vocabulary was pretty good if I was any judge. He was learning science and agriculture from Rand. But I wasn’t sure what to do about math beyond the basics of adding, subtracting, multiplying, and dividing. He needed more than that but the only real school books I had were the highschool level ones that I took months ago out of the first house I salvaged. I added that to my list of wants and not needs … but it could turn into a need if I couldn’t figure out some way around the problem.

A few more vendor tables and I came to the table of the leathersmith. He was selling belts, hats, leather aprons, whips, and a bunch of other stuff. He also made stuff to order. But what really caught my eye were these moccasins. They weren’t just the foot part though, these ran up your legs sort of like boots and had laces that held it in place.

“Excuse me. Sir?”

“Oh … well hello there. You’re Rand Joiner’s wife aren’t you?”

“Yes sir. Um … could you put some kind of sole on those moccasins?"

"Oh aye, it’s the way I wear my own. These here are just samples I made a few years ago. I ran with the sutlers with the Mountain Man re-enactment events. You looking for something for Rand?”

“Actually we have a boy living with us … “

“That’d be Austin?”

“Oh … um … yes.”

“Had the boy staying with us a bit, glad to see he found a family. My sister wanted him, all she has is girls, she lives with us see but with the houseful we have … we just couldn’t offer him anything. You’d be better off letting me repair a pair of old lace up boots for him. The moccasins are great for hunting and staying around the house but with the field work he is doing with Rand he needs the ankle support and the sole to protect his feet. If you bring me a pair we can see what we can work out.”

I’m not stupid, the fact he wasn’t trying to sell me anything and tried to advise me whether he made anything on a deal or not makes him a good ‘un in my opinion. I told Rand later and he said that Mick and Tommy were in the same boat and frankly so was he. We decided to use the trade profit from the pre-orders that I gave to Missy and use it for work boots for Rand and Austin. They didn’t have their sizes today but Missy said she had a couple of pairs at the Shack that might fit, Rand and Austin will just have to go try them on. They are in pretty rough shape so we should be able to pick them up for cheap and then just have them fixed up properly and Rand said he knows the man needs his road from graded so they could probably make a barter for work rather than for goods.

I saw vendors who were selling veggies but nothing dried or anything like that. It made me feel that I still had a good idea about making sure we have enough dried veggies and fruits to barter with during the off season. I have a feeling the apples are going to do killer well but I don’t want to count my chickens before they are hatched.

And speaking of chickens there were two vendors there selling eggs and birds; one had chickens and the other had geese and ducks. My geese are big helpers in the garden, the chickens not so much. The chickens were pecking at everything. I guess they got use to me throwing them scraps and aren’t just interested in bugs but anything they can sink their beaks into. I have yet to have the geese pinch anything but bugs off of the plants. I keep the chickens to their run these days and let the geese into the fenced in garden … except one of them who is sitting her nest. Boy is she testy. I bent over the wrong way and man did I get a pinch.

It was about then that things started getting pretty crowded. I was getting really tired of being bumped around; I even got clipped in the stomach twice. I didn’t recognize one in ten of the people which told me that maybe it was time for me to scoot back to Missy and Bill’s trailer and wait out the rush. Instead Austin found me first along with Tommy. Neither boy looked happy. Mick, moving slower because he was surrounded by a gaggle of girls and looking so close to panic I nearly laughed out loud, brought up the rear.

“Kiri! Hi!” His eyes pleaded for some help so we stepped off to the side and I started talking to them – I recognized most of them from church – while Mick let Austin and Tommy drag him away as they suddenly lost the gloom on their face.

After they realized their captive had escaped the girls wandered off to find their parents since it was lunch time. Rand’s stomach is as reliable as any clock and his height helped him to find me even in the crowd. He had the boys with him and our picnic basket. “Let’s put the blanket out under the tree over there instead of eating in the wagon. I’ve already checked on Bud and Lou and they’re fine.”

Rand surprised us all by having some smoked catfish filets. “A fella owed me for some mowing I did for him. I figured I’d never see it but he stopped me and gave us this. Said that the road I mowed helped him to get his boat out where it kept getting hung up and now he fishes the river and smokes the fish he catches. Wait boys, let Kiri get a bite first.”

I like fish but I wasn’t sure why he wanted me to try it first. But when I took a small bite it was divine. I’d never had anything like it. “He smoked this batch with pecan wood. He also has some over there done with oak and maple.”

The filets melted when you ate them. It went perfect with the wilted salad (wilted on purpose with bacon grease), and hardboiled eggs that I had brought. For dessert I brought cookies since I figured that the boys would be around. There was also a ceramic jug of fresh milk to drink. The boys for their part contributed buttered bread and peach preserves and some summer sausage.

Our lunch nearly got trampled by a brawl but Rand jumped up and pushed them off in another direction before disaster struck and Mitch Peters had the two ijits under control not long after that. They’d passed a bottle back and forth just enough to both get stupid. There were a couple of other brawls and SueLinda was told to get her girls under control or leave since they alone had caused three of them by inciting the men to act foolish. She didn’t leave but she did send two of her girls off with that older lady I had seen her with earlier.

I was pretty tired by the time we finished but I was determined to hit all the vendors and I’m glad that I did. It was like walking through the sutler section of a reenactment event. There was a vendor devoted to women’s stuff. They worked the river so while the Shack no longer has a local monopoly on some of the lingerie items, this vendor didn’t do pre-orders or “to size” orders which was the niche that I filled. This vendor also sold bonnets, parasols, fans, snoods, and aprons and hair accessories like combs and hair pins.

Other vendors there included tables for candles, horse accessories (run by a Ferrier), rope, housewares, mops and brooms, sewing notions like leather thimbles and buttons, garden tools, and that didn’t even include the people offering to trade their services like blade sharpening, tailor/seamstress, and blacksmithing. I’d seen everything and was looking around for Rand when I spotted him. For about two seconds I thought of just waiting things out but the look on Rand’s face finally drove me to act.

Rand isn’t violent. He’s not passive by any stretch and I’ve seen him lose his temper and get in brawls all right, but more because it is a guy thing rather than a violent streak separate from that. And I’ve never seen him able yet to even push a woman out of his way much less anything more than that. But SueLinda was getting close to being the exception that proves the rule. The choices that Rand and I had made couldn’t all be laid at her door but she didn’t help and did play a role in the ruckus that occurred. And she was obviously up to her tricks again, though not the kind that most would think considering her current job description.

Rand was trying to ignore her so hard and SueLinda was so intent on her mischief making that neither one noticed me until I’d already swept SueLinda’s legs out from under her and she was sprawled on the ground, very red in the face. “You need to pump up that situational awareness thing SueLinda. The kind of trouble you are constantly trying to cause is going to make you some serious enemies.”

I walked around her – out of arms reach, I’m not that crazy – and stepped into Rand’s one-armed hug with a smile. “Hi,” I said using my best butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth expression.

Thank you God that Rand laughs when most other guys would have lost patience a long time ago. “Hi yourself. You ready to go?”

And we did, arm-in-arm leaving SueLinda to get to her feet and stomp away. Rand said quietly, “I love you. I wish … “

“You wish I hadn’t done anything about SueLinda?”

“No. I wish you hadn’t been put into the position in the first place. I managed to avoid her all day until just now. I wish I knew what her problem was.”

“Does it matter? Apparently there are some girls like that just like there are some guys. They can’t deal with the fact that someone got away, unimpressed by their whatever you want to call it.”

“Yeah, well, SueLinda isn’t a girl. She’s a grown woman and it is doggone embarrassing. Bad enough I made a fool of myself in college and then again a couple of weeks ago, I don’t want to see you get dragged into this.”

I realized then that really was his whole problem with it. She didn’t tempt him, she reminded him of how stupid he had felt the first time around and then how guilty he felt over what happened two weeks ago. Suddenly I didn’t feel threatened by her at all even if she is a real live beauty queen, smart, and worst of all tall and willowy. I laughed right out loud I felt so free. I got a strange look from Rand and some of the other folks that were being nosy but I didn’t care. I didn’t even mind looking silly because I had to have help to get into the back of the wagon, it was all good.

I kept that feeling all the way home and for the rest of the day after we got home. I’m sitting here now still feeling good while I write this in my journal and stuff my face with popcorn. Tomorrow is Sunday and I mostly plan on resting. There are always regular chores but I think tomorrow I’m going to sit down and --- blush --- look through Momma’s baby patterns. I might even crochet some lace if I feel up to it.

March 19th – Yawn, yawn, yawn. I’m tired and the only thing I’ve done today is eat. I’m even going to bed early.

March 20th – Rand is a stinker; a flat out stinker. And I could just kiss him for it.

We had a huge tree fall on the fence line. It wasn’t our tree but one from the property adjacent to us. When it fell … it just kind of keeled over because half of its root ball had died and shrunk … it took down several smaller trees in its way. Brendon and Ron showed up early this morning to help cut the trees back. Thing is Laurabeth was with them. I could tell that Rand hadn’t expected that but there wasn’t much he could say that wouldn’t make things worse.

While the guys went to go do the trees Laurabeth and I were left staring at each other. Then Stevie made a rude noise from the end that babies tend to make rude noises from.

Laurabeth sighed, “That’s a commentary on all the greens that I’ve been eating lately.”

I tried not to but I laughed before I could stop. Laurabeth and I had never been close but she had always been nice to me. After she had changed Stevie we sat down on the porch with Laurabeth rocking the baby and me trying to fix Rand’s sock for the hundredth time.

“Rand still wrecks his socks all to pieces I see.”

“Yeah. I’m thinking of sewing leather on the toe area and heel of all his socks.”

“Wouldn’t do any good; his toenails are like band saws. Daddy used to complain that you could always tell whose socks belonged to who; Rand’s were the ones with holes in the toes and Brendon’s were the ones that were always stretched out at the top where he was always pulling at them.”

Silence fell for a few moments. “Kiri?”

“Hmmm?” I asked while I snipped a piece of thread with my teeth.

“I’m … I’m sorry. Ron … he says … he says he’s sure you aren’t holding anything that I said against me but …”

She surprised me and it must have showed before I could get my blank face on. “Oh, it’s OK. I know I was pretty awful. I don’t … I don’t remember everything. There are great big empty spaces in my head. I … I don’t want to talk about what happened but … I do want to apologize for … you know … what people said that I said and … “

“Laurabeth, it’s all right. I spent a long time being … not nice to downright nasty after my family died. Not everyone deals with their grief like that and I hope that if I ever have to … though I pray that I never have to … go through something like that again that I don’t hurt other people just because I’m hurting so bad. So I understand. Thanks for apologizing, I just want you to know that you don’t have to.”

“Yes, yes I do, for my own peace of mind. I can’t leave stuff like that hanging out there, I’ve got enough to … oh God Kiri I miss Jonathon … and the baby … so bad there are days I just dread waking up.”

Well then she started crying and then I started crying and it took a while for us to both stop because every time one of us would the other continued and we’d start up crying all over again. But I don’t know, maybe we both needed to do some crying. I was tired afterwards but it was the kind of tried you get after you’ve emptied stuff out of yourself that it was time you unloaded. I wouldn’t say that Laurabeth and I are any closer than we were before but we both acknowledge that we share something, a depth of pain maybe, and it’s given us some insight into the other.

I’m relieved that she seems to be coming back from wherever she had retreated to in her spirit and told Rand so when they left after lunch – white beans with smoked ham hocks, cornbread, and stewed canned potatoes. “Brendon and Ron told me she was a lot better. I wasn’t sure whether to believe them or not. She still seems … fragile.”

“She is, but she’s more there in her mind than she’s been in a while. She may have setbacks but I think she is definitely moving forward.”

Then he and Austin took a load of the wood and I thought they had been taking it to Uncle George’s place only it turns out they weren’t . As a matter of fact some birdie or other had been whispering to Rand what vendors that I had been stopping and looking at. I suspect it was the boys but I don’t know for sure, Rand wouldn’t say. I guess he is worried that I think that he is checking up on me but I really don’t. And even if he was it’s not bothering me. So long as I know it isn’t me that he doesn’t trust then I’m kinda OK with him being protective.

When he came home Austin made himself scarce saying he was gonna go check on Fraidy’s kittens. I reminded him not to touch them but that he could pull some grass and take it up to Fraidy if he wanted to. I turned to go back inside to take the cornbread out of the oven and Rand followed me inside. He took the skillet out of the oven for me when I said it was ready and then told me to close my eyes.

“Huh?”

“Just close your eyes.”

I thought he’d found an interesting rock or flower or something and was just playing so I smiled and closed my eyes. He told me to hold out my hands and he put something smooth and cold in my hand. I could tell it was a small jar but it was a funny shape.

He gave me a few moments to feel it and try and guess and then whispered, “Open your eyes.”

It was a jar of ink Before I could even pull a question together he pulled a wooden-handled carpet bag from behind his back and said, “Surprise.”

There were jars of colored inks and packets of ink powder and even a box of nibs for the dip pen I liked to use. “Wait! Where did this come from?”

“I traded the wood.”

“But … but Rand … I didn’t need this … and it … Rand the price … “

“It’s all right Babe. Don’t be upset. The man’s name is Kutchner. He was selling out and we worked a deal yesterday. He wanted to ride one of the passenger boats heading to Steinhatchee but they didn’t want to trade for his ink. What they did want was wood since their boat uses a steam engine. So I traded Kutchner wood for the ink and he traded the wood for passage down south.”

“Oh Rand.”

“There are some of those steno tablets you use out in the wagon in a box with some other odds and ends too.”

“But Rand, I … I didn’t need this. I’ve been doing just fine with the pecan shell ink.”

“I know, and we’ll keep using the homemade ink for everyday but now you have something nice to use in your journal. It seems to make you feel better when you can write.”

“It does but all of that work, cutting the trees out of the fence and into lengths, loading it into the wagon … “

“I wanted to. You do all that sewing and stuff so that we can get what we need from the Shack. You’ve never asked for anything yourself. This time I wanted to do something just for you.”

All I could do was say “Oh Rand” all over again. I’m going to save the colored ink; for what I don’t know, but I’m going to save it. Tomorrow I’m going to make up some of the powdered ink. It is going to feel funny writing in blue again.

Chapter Eighty-Five

2010-02-22T08:12:00.001-08:00

Chapter 85

March 13th – I felt better today than I have in a long time with absolutely no reason for that to be true. Go figure. On the other hand I’ve gotten quite a bit accomplished or at least started and that offsets the news we heard on the radio.

When I said yesterday that Atlanta was burning I meant that literally. Some type of major explosion occurred downtown and then spread outwards from there, igniting all that hadn’t already burned before in the previous riots. The Nation of Islam headquarters is rumored to have been the original target and was destroyed in the initial explosion and who knows how many lives have been lost over the last couple of days. They say evidence of the fire can be seen for miles in all directions but since we are five hours away from Atlanta’s location … or should I say where Atlanta used to be … there is no way we are going to see it go up.

Unlike us, Georgia has been dry as a bone and even a small spark floating on the breeze will ignite another fire if it lands on fertile ground, and most ground is ripe for a fire in Georgia right now, the cold, dry winter only dried things out even more than the drought had.

Mr. Henderson and Ram think that the fire may slow the migration out of the north for a while but after that it may actually increase the numbers heading this direction since there will be even less salvageable goods along the main I75 corridor. Ram also expects some retaliation by some militant groups and it looks like the local troops are preparing for the possibility. There have been all types of conjecture on what caused the explosion but due to its size nothing quite sounds right yet. The best one yet was one that I heard Bill and Ram formulate standing by the wagon. They think that a previously planted terrorist bomb was accidentally activated … either through tampering or through some other type of accident.

The men … and a few of the women … could have talked that subject to death for the rest of the day but we all had to head home. We had to listen to it all through lunch and clean up and then I had to listen to Rand’s wonderings off and on through the rest of the day. He listened to the radio late into the night; I had intended on staying up with him but I fell asleep in spite of myself.

We woke to find that Austin and Woofer had snuck into our room during the night and had slept at the foot of the bed. I was worried that he was sick but he said he’d had a dream the house was on fire and then couldn’t go back to sleep. I looked at Rand who nodded his head and he eased up on the talk today. Austin still asked if he could camp out in our room and since it has been storming pretty bad for several hours now we told him one more night then it was back to a real bed so he could get some rest. He’s down there now. We could make him more comfortable but Rand is worried that if we do that we will only give him more reason to want to sleep in our room instead of his. He said that Mick had gone through a stage like that and it had taken him and Brendon forever to get him to go back to his own bed because they kept making it so easy on him to sleep in their room.

This morning I decided it was time to shake off whatever has been holding me down. Rand and I are working on seeing what the other needs and not just assuming we know and while that gets a little silly on occasion we are doing better. That’s a relief and then some. I even managed to make Rand get a little … um, touchy feely … out in the barn when I brought him some cold mint tea as he stacked the wood that he and Austin had been chopping.

After a bit of his silliness – Austin had gone inside to grab some oatmeal cookies from the jar I try to keep filled with snacks and such – Rand said, “You look like you are feeling better.”

“I do feel better.”

“Really?”

“Yes really so stop worrying so much. What do you have planned for the rest of the day?”

“I’m going to have Austin muck the stables and clean out the chicken run while I run the cultivator. I want to get our stuff squared away for a couple of more days and then I have about six people who want to barter for work. I almost hate to do it because it means taking time away from our own projects but …”

“I know, it means getting stuff in trade that we won’t have to grow ourselves. How are the grain fields looking?”

“Better than expected all things considered. We’ve lost some places here and there but now that I know where the low spots are I can avoid putting seed down in those areas. Say a month, give or take a few days, and we should be able to harvest and then turn around and get ready to plant several fields in sorghum. We just need to get some dry weather.”

Austin came out and we all set out to do the work we had set for ourselves this day. Rand and Austin wanted to bring in one more load of wood … I can go through some wood when the canners are going … and I headed into the house to make Hoppin’ John Soup for lunch.

Fix some rice, the thicker you want the soup the more rice you add. Brown up a little sausage, about a quarter pound, and I made that from fresh squirrel sausage that I had mixed up yesterday and put into the cooler. To the drained sausage I added half cup of chopped onion, a half pound of peeled and chopped turnips, two peeled and chopped carrots, a half teaspoon of salt and a half teaspoon of ground pepper. Brown all of this over medium and then turn it down and simmer it for about seven minutes. Next add three pints of chicken broth, one pint of canned black eyed peas, and a pint of chopped mustard greens. Simmer another ten minutes and add a half teaspoon of dried red pepper flakes right before serving. The soup and a pan of cornbread more than held the three of us over until dinner at which time I planned to have a nice surprise; but first it was on to getting things ready for the swap meet this Saturday where I planned to barter with or without Rand’s help.

Today’s activity was making rice mixes. They are really easy and I think they’ll make me some good points to use at the Shack. Here are the recipes that I use:

Onion Rice Mix:
4 cups uncooked rice
1 envelope onion soup mix
1/4 cup dried minced onion
1 tablespoon parsley
1/2 teaspoon salt

Lemon-Dill Rice Mix:
4 cups uncooked rice
1/4 cup grated lemon peel
1/4 cup powdered chicken soup base
2 tablespoons dill
1 tablespoon chives
1/2 teaspoon salt

Vegetable Rice Mix:
4 cups uncooked rice
1 envelope vegetable soup mix
2 tablespoons dried minced onion
2 tablespoons dried minced celery
2 tablespoons dried minced bell pepper
1 tablespoon parsley
1 teaspoon salt

Spanish Rice Mix:
4 cups uncooked rice
1/2 cup Mexican seasoning mix
1/2 cup dried corn
2 tablespoons parsley
1 tablespoon basil

Herb Rice:
4 cups uncooked rice
1/2 cup instant nonfat dry milk
1/4 cup dried minced celery
2 tablespoons parsley
2 tablespoons thyme
1 tablespoon marjoram

Combine ingredients specified for each different mix. Store mixes in an airtight container on the shelf for up to 4 months. I bagged the mixes two cups of rice at a time and we have plenty of rice so it isn’t hurting us to barter it.

While I was doing this I fixed a whole wheat soy pizza crust. We’ve got a lot of soy beans thanks to Missy though she told me yesterday when she brought me by a big bag of lace scraps that she’s been trading a whole lot more of them after she hung the directions for making soy milk on the bulletin board. I guess I could give her this recipe too.

You dissolve one tablespoon of yeast in one cup of warm water and let it sit until it starts to get foamy. Then you add one quarter cup of soy flour and one and one quarter cup of whole wheat flour and mix it until well combined. Then you stir in one teaspoon of salt (I used sea salt). I covered the bowl with cheesecloth and let it rise in a warm place for forty-five minutes.

Then you lightly oil a twelve-inch pizza pan and then press your dough out to the edges of the pan. You bake it for fifteen minutes or until the edges are brown and crisp and then take it out and top it with the ingredients you want, put it back in the oven until your toppings are finished and there you have it … whole grain pizza. Next time I may just have to make two the way Rand and Austin inhaled the pizzas. I was queen for the rest of the night and now I’m off to bed, Rand has promised me a foot massage and a few other things besides.

March 14th – Busy, busy, busy. And too sore and tired to write much. I planted another three rows of bush beans. I’ve been planted a few more rows every week. When the seed pods dry we’ll winnow them and bag the beans up. I can’t help but think that eventually this will be a really good food supply for us personally and to barter … maybe even export if we can get enough growing to make it worth our while. Also had to hoe the other rows if things that are coming up. The mulch I have laid down this time is helping considerably but I notice there is more weeding to be done than there was when I was planting more sustainably using the square-foot method. Each method has its pros and cons but it will be harvest that will really determine which method I use in the planting seasons to come.

March 15th – I don’t know how and I don’t know when but Fraidy surprised us by becoming a Momma last night. I had been going under the assumption that she was fixed but apparently not. I haven’t seen any other cat though several months back I know I heard one. Rand found her nest up in the loft first thing this morning. She’s extremely protective but Rand was able to take her some food scraps without her fritzing out too much and in the end she practically inhaled what he left for her. She has seven kittens in her nest and I’m not sure what we are going to do with them all. I’d like to keep one but we’ll have to see.

Today’s mixture to take to the swap meet was instant chai tea. Another one so easy I can’t believe how anyone would think of wanting to trade for it but Missy asked if I had any tea recipes since most people were running out of coffee. In a bowl combine one cup nonfat dry milk powder, one cup powdered non-dairy creamer, one cup French vanilla flavored powdered non-dairy creamer, two and one-half cups granulated sugar, one and one-half cups unsweetened instant tea, two teaspoons ground ginger, two teaspoons ground cinnamon, one teaspoon ground cloves, and one teaspoon ground cardamom. Next I put it in my hand-powered blender and basically pureed the stuff until it was the consistency of a fine powder. That took a while and next time I might cheat again and plug the old blender into the inverter.

Spent a good deal of time sewing and mending, especially socks. I got so irritated that I threw a pair of balled up socks at Rand and demanded that he trim his toenails because I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my life trying to darn the same pair of socks over and over again only to have his shovel sharp nails undo the work or make a new hole after the first wear. Austin wears his out in the heel and I think it is because the socks he has are short and he is constantly pulling them up. I ought to know, I’ve got the same bad habit.

I also finished all of the preorders that Missy gave me last time. If it remains at a dozen orders each time then I’ll be able to keep up, any more than that and I’ll be in trouble, especially as soon as the garden really starts taking off which shouldn’t be too much longer from now. I’ve been planting enough stuff that if we go hungry any time in the near future it won’t be because we didn’t put enough work into it.

March 16th – Harvested English peas, cauliflower, and collard greens today in quantity so while I cleaned the house I canned up what I didn’t put in the dehydrator. It used to be that I would dry what I didn’t can but now it is the other way around. The more drying I can do the better. I haven’t broken any jars yet, knock on wood, and my rings are still good but I will eventually run out of lids … not this year, maybe not even next year if I start rationing them, but eventually all things like that will run out unless they start manufacturing them again.

Rand and Austin laughed at me until they both nearly shot milk out of their noses. I don’t care. Fraidy is way up in the loft taking care of seven kittens all on her own. How is she supposed to feed them and stay healthy herself? So I made her a kitty salad. I know it sounds stupid but Ms. Belle had this ancient cat that she would bring to work every once in a while and hide in her office … because of the health department you know. Anyway she swore that the reason her “Tum tum” was still healthy and frisky at nineteen was because she prepared all of his food from scratch and one of the things he really enjoyed was Grass Salad.

You start with a small carrot that you peel and grate, then add one-half cup of chopped fresh sprouts, two teaspoons of freshly chopped parsley, one-half teaspoon fresh chopped catnip, mix that all together just like you would a human salad. Then you sprinkle two tablespoons of vegetable broth over it and toss again. Of course a normal cat won’t eat all of that in one sitting so you give them a little and refrigerate the rest. Rand wasn’t laughing after he saw how eager Fraidy was for it after she figured out what it was.

Poor Woofer just looks up at the loft some times and whines because he knows his friend is up there and doesn’t understand why she won’t come down and go hunting with him. I have a feeling it is going to be interesting to see whether Fraidy tolerates Woofer around the kittens and whether Woofer really understands what the kittens are. We’ll have to be careful. Rand says we have about two months before they are totally weaned but in about a month we should see Fraidy out and about more as she starts the weaning process.

Thinking about Fraidy has made me think about Laurabeth and Stevie. I need to pray for her more. She’s going through something that would surely break me I think. I’ve lived through a lot but I view Rand and this baby as some type of reward for surviving. I really don’t think I could handle them being taken from me. Maybe I shouldn’t think that way. Maybe that makes me weak. I don’t know, and frankly I’m not sure I care. I just don’t want it to happen.

Rand got a couple of braces of quail today with some birdshot. I haven’t had that much to do with cooking quail but Rand said that it can be done basically like chicken only with less cooking time because it is smaller. Well, I have been dying for BBQ chicken. I mean it woke me up in the middle of the night and I basically had to wipe my mouth because it was watering so much. Having cravings is so strange.

But then when it came right down to it every time I tried to clean those birds I couldn’t, my stomach kept heaving. I was getting so mad and do you know what? Austin came to my rescue. I tell you that boy has a cast iron stomach just like Rand; nothing bothers him it seems. He cleaned them and then I split them into halves and grilled them, painting them with some homemade BBQ that I had canned last tomato season. I pan fried some whole kernel corn with plenty of butter, baked some white beans Boston style, and made biscuits. Oh my gosh! We all made pigs of ourselves and it was so good. I know that is bragging on my own cooking but I don’t care. Rand and Austin even helped me clean the dishes up afterward and that just topped it off like a good dessert.

March 17th – Happy St. Patty’s Day. Yeah, I know it’s a little silly but it sure was fun freaking Rand and Austin out at the breakfast table with green scrambled eggs, green biscuits, and green cream for the coffee. I wish I could have gotten a picture of their faces; it was worth using up one of my bottles of green food coloring to do it.

Today is baking day and while my normal bread items were baking or rising I went through more of Momma’s recipe files. It seems that no matter how much time I spend doing this I’m always finding something new and interesting that I want to try.

Actually what I was looking for today was a sourdough starter that you can make out of whole wheat flour. I’m running pretty low on store-bought flour; it is amazing how quickly it goes when you make everything from scratch. That leaves the whole wheat flour that is made from the bags of grain we have in storage. The recipe I finally found even used honey instead of processed sugar.

You take one-half teaspoon of honey, one-half cup of whole wheat flour, and one-half cup of non-chlorinated water. The well isn’t chlorinated so there isn’t any problem there but I did leave it to sit in the window to bring it up to room temperature before using it to mix with. You mix all of that together in a glass jar using a wooden spoon; you can’t use any metal with this recipe. You want a good lid on the jar and then sit it in a warm place where you will stir it twice a day for five days. On the sixth day mix in another half-cup of water and a half-cup of whole wheat flour and mix together well, cover it and let it sit in a warm place for one day to ferment. When it gets lots of bubbles and foam on top the yeast is ready to use.

The sourdough starter will separate when it sits; you just need to mix it back together before using. Momma recommended covering it with waxed paper secured with a rubber band and putting it in the frig where you only need to feed it weekly. You take half of the starter out to use in you baking and then add half a cup of water and half a cup of flour to keep it going. Sounds simple, let’s see if it actually works.

I hope tomorrow is a good day. I haven’t had too much luck at the swap meets as far as them being good days for me. Some of that is my fault, I won’t hide from the truth. But on the other hand not all of it has been my fault. I would like to prove to myself that the swap meets aren’t a bad place for me to go, that I can function normally in such a crowded setting. Yes, I do much better in small groups but I have to be able to be at least semi-normal around large groups of people.

It is raining again tonight, not as badly was the other night but enough that it will be muddy in the morning. We’ve got a bad place forming up at the gully for the higher than average rainfall. Rand has already laid the rock on the slope so it isn’t from erosion. It’s like the water is trying to bubble up through the road. The water isn’t that high in the gully though it is higher than normal. I think, from looking at it, that it might actually be from the other side. The people on that side used to go mud bogging right there and it caused deep ruts and pits in the ground that nothing wants to grow in. The ground might be compacted and not letting the water perk down, especially if there is clay under the sand. You walk over there and it is like walking on a sponge, the water just squishes up out of the ground.

Rand has tried digging a ditch on the side of the road opposite side from the gully but it just fills with water and doesn’t really do much to help. We’ve dumped some more lime rock on it that Rand hauled in from the old concrete plant but it is still like pudding in a couple of places.

The last thing we’ve done seems to have helped the most but make cause the most grief in the long haul. There were some small pines that he took out recently when opening up the new orchard area. He was going to chop it up for fat wood and fire starters but instead he cut the top and bottom off of them and laid them down across the road right there. It is kind of like a corduroy road but at least it keeps the wagon from sinking every time it is driven over that bad place.

Hopefully it will last long enough that we can get things a little better dried out so we don’t have the pudding effect anymore. I walked up there with Rand and we were getting close to the bad spot when Rand suddenly went down to his knee in mud … that’s the pudding effect. Actually it is the consistency of a thick cake batter but pudding sounds better when you are describing it to other people. We aren’t the only ones having ground problems. Uncle George had to go pull a cow out of the mud a couple of days ago and Mr. Henderson had a section of wall cave in where water undercut the fence and the weight of the fence section pulled it over. Good thing no one was on the palisade there at the time.

In the past you could just pick up a phone and place an order for some gravel or lime rock to be hauled in, not anymore. It was an all day job when Rand went to the concrete plant that time to get a wagon load for us. He said there were people there with burlap bags strapped to donkeys and mules hauling it back to where ever they were from. Even met a couple of farmers from Gilchrist and Columbia counties. Gilchrist has lots of flooding. Columbia not so much but they’ve got problems with transients coming out of the south. Looks like we are going to be seeing people from both directions. I just hope they have their good manners on and that they’ll leave us alone.

Chapter Eighty-Four

2010-02-22T08:11:00.001-08:00

Chapter 84

March 9th – Today I have kept quietly busy. There has also been a quiet between Rand and I; it hasn’t been comfortable but it hasn’t been uncomfortable either. It’s more like a … a … a necessary bit of quiet; not before the storm but what comes after it. I think we are both trying to find a balance between us, find our own personal balance. I sure don’t want to rock the boat right now; things just feel too delicate, like one wrong move and the whole thing will shatter beyond repair.

I wonder if Daddy and Momma ever had problems like this? Probably not. Momma was the epitome of the good wife; fantastic cook, great housekeeper, organized (well, most of the time), loads of patience, wise, great mother, grew and preserved a lot of our food even living in the suburbs like we did. I could go on and on. Sometimes I wonder what she would make of me if she was still around. I remember hearing that Daddy was a little wild when they first got married and that Momma finally told him to start coming home earlier or to not bother coming home at all. Supposedly this happened when she was pregnant with me. Maybe it is just that by the time I was old enough to notice they had gotten their act together and worked out their differences. Huh, that’s something I never thought about before. To me Momma and Daddy were near about perfect. Maybe Rand and I do still stand a chance.

What I do know after thinking about it all day is the same thing I eventually learned despite the years of therapy that tried to burn it out of me; I have got to be me, warts and all. I’m not saying that I don’t have room to learn and change – to grow into a better person – but I still have to be true to my core beliefs and personality. The core beliefs part isn’t a problem because Rand and I are pretty evenly yoked in that respect. No, it’s the personality part that I’m afraid is the real issue.

I can only fake stuff for so long … well, really not long at all if I’m honest with myself. It doesn’t take much for me to get flaky around the edges. People drive me nuts because I don’t feel I can be myself around them and I don't trust them much because they never really seem to know what they are going to do when the rubber hits the road. I’m more afraid of hurting their feelings than them hurting mine and constantly having to tiptoe around people’s sensitivities gets old real fast. One of the guidance counselors at school said I was like a bull in a china shop; rather than walking carefully around all the glass cases of delicate objects I tend to plow right in and then plow right back out. I’ve just never been overly impressed with sacred cows. I don’t set out to do it on purpose, I’ve tried no few times to be easier on people, but somehow I always wind up losing patience with whole process of “appropriate social interaction” if required to do it for more than a few hours at a time. I don’t think that Rand minds that part so much but maybe that is part of it. I don’t know. I know we need to talk but I’m kind of afraid of what gets said.

All of this has been running through my head all day long and the only way I’ve been able to stand it is because my hands have stayed as busy as my brain. No hard labor; I haven’t felt up to it and Rand and Austin pretty much made sure that it wasn’t going to happen anyway. Today was supposed to be cleaning day but I just couldn’t abide being closed up inside the house any more. I opted to spend most of the day out of doors, we even ate on the lanai since the day was so nice. I think that has helped clear some of the cobwebs from my brain.

First thing I cooked some beans in the ground. Austin had asked me about that when Rand had been telling him stories of how we met. I hadn’t done it in quite some time and it seemed kind of appropriate to do it again. It was just pinto beans but they turned out really good.

After that I needed to start some new seed trays. Problem … I’ve used up most of my pots and I don’t really have that many sheets of newspaper left to make paper pots with. I’ve even used up the bottoms that I cut off of the two-liter soda bottles. But I’m trying to get ahead and use seed as economically as possible by not direct sewing and then having to thin the seedlings out by hand. That’s when I had a goofy thought.

Rand still has piles (and piles and piles) of salvage materials stacked around. The animals escaping the fire kept running into the piles which is what woke Austin (whose bedroom is toward the front of the house) in the first place. One of the particularly noisy piles is a stack aluminum rain gutters. I took short sections that were already messed up for some reason and used a hammer and awl to poke holes in the bottom of the gutter; the holes were for drainage. Then I filled the gutter with well decayed compost. They weren’t the prettiest planters I’ve ever seen, and some have a tendency to want to lay on their side (fixed that with pieces of wood), but they do the job.

Rand laughed when he saw my scrap yard planters and then stopped, worried that he had hurt my feelings. See, this is what I’m afraid of. That we can’t get back to where we were so comfortable with one another and are unable to laugh out of fear of causing a problem. I didn’t hide my feelings quick enough and Rand saw. He apologized for hurting my feelings and then I had to go through the long drawn out you didn’t, are you sure, I’m positive explanation that I’d been upset by the fact that he thought he couldn’t even laugh with me anymore and not at being laughed at. Then he got worried that he seemed over sensitive and had started a problem that way. It would be nice if we could just make up quick like we used to.

After lunch, a mac-n-cheese kind of casserole thing that I threw together with the help of some LTS pasta from a #10 can, I got a little sleepy. I’m still not up to full steam but I didn’t want to waste the daylight hours sleeping. My next project came from something that Austin’s Peepaw used to do.

Daddy and Momma had gone all out as they furnished the house. They knew they needed to do it while Daddy was still working or it wasn’t likely to happen so on the windows they put these really nice horizontal blinds made of thick PVC. They were dual purpose, kept heat and UV rays out and kept light in. Those blinds combined with the blackout curtains and the shutters on the outside of the house provided a great deal of security and privacy. But from the salvage houses we had a lot of those less expensive horizontal window blinds, the kind with the skinny plastic shade slats on them. Well Austin’s grandfather would take the skinny slats, cut them in lengths averaging about eight inches and turn them into plant markers. I cut one end into a point and then used a permanent marker to write the name and variety of veggie or herb that I had planted. One blind provided more plant markers than I will probably ever need.

The pinto beans and rice made for an easy dinner and clean up which was something I appreciated good times or bad. After dinner I puttered around while Rand and Austin put the animals away. When they came in we had a quiet evening. It’s now so warm we don’t have to have a fire.

Austin went to bed a few minutes ago and Rand has that look on his face, the one that says he wants to talk. Oh brother, here we go.

March 10th – Despite the beautiful sky it’s been a nasty day. If Rand and I hadn’t done a lot of talking and making up last night this day would have been even worse. I stumbled through part of the day for sure as I was just so tired but it was a tired worth getting.

Things are … healing I guess you would call it. We’re working on making things better. I’m trying to understand his driving need to be a protector and understand that it is his way of securing his future, our future, and all of those man dreams guys seem to have. I’m trying to remember that he’s doing this out of love and not just to be controlling. He’s trying to understand and remember that while his intent might be pure, and that I don’t begrudge him “authority” in my life, and I appreciate all of his hard work, how he goes about being protective makes it appear that he has no confidence in me and doesn’t trust me in the big things. He also … and this part really was hard for me to talk to him about … well, when he showed off with SueLinda it hurt me. I didn’t want to admit it but it felt good to fess up to it and tell him how the spectacle made me feel. It hasn’t made me necessarily trust him any less – I don’t really expect he would have taken it all the way just to spite me – but at the same time now it is harder to trust him emotionally with the big stuff.

Oh gosh, writing it out sounds so stupid but … it’s just I’ve never had the chance to be vain about my looks. I never got asked out on a regular date, or to a school dance, or had the chance to wear a really pretty dress and heels, or typical superficial stuff like that. I know I don’t look bad precisely but I never will call myself pretty or cute. My eyes have a funny slant to them, my nose is small, and my mouth and teeth are big; don’t even get me started on all my scars. Sure, my eyes are green most of the time but sometimes they are just plain brown like my hair. I’m short and top heavy and the two don’t make for such a great combination when you are trying to find clothes that fit. About the only thing I don’t have any complaint about is my ears though I guess those can be pretty important since they stick on either side of your head for the whole world to see. But nice looking ears don’t mean much when my ADP is acting up.

I thought I was over worrying that Rand would get turned off by how I look but now, I don’t know. SueLinda is one of those classic beauties. Even the rough life she has chosen doesn’t seem to have changed her looks that much. Her hair is a honey blonde that doesn’t come out of a bottle. She’s got great skin, perfectly straight white teeth and these incredible blue eyes. And she’s tall. Why did she have to be tall? Tall and willowy with just enough on both ends so that she looks like a woman ought to look.

When I finally got up my courage to say something to him – he is awful persistent when he sets his mind to talking things out – and told him she made me feel like a gnome, and not necessarily the cute garden variety, he blew a gasket. Of all the things to get mad about this had to be the strangest in my opinion. He wasn’t mad at me, he was mad at himself. I won’t write about what came next – that’s between Rand and I – all I will say is that he made me feel better. I still feel like a fat heffalump but it really kinda seems that Rand is partial to fat heffalumps so there it is.

As far as the rest of it goes, some of what Rand is feeling is fear. He’s more scared about me being pregnant than he has let on and that was hard for him to fess up. He didn’t like admitting it because he feels like he is somehow letting me down, somehow being weaker than he should be. And the stuff that happened to Laurabeth, well that just has him in knots. He knows good and well what the risks are and he knows if something happens to him I’m going to be in a bad way and he just doesn’t know how to make it better. That stuff does bother me but kind of in a distant way. There isn’t much I can do about it so I just throw it in a mental closet, shut the door, and stick to dealing with what I can do something about. I think part of the problem is that there’s no one around to tell him that it is going to be OK and that if something does go wrong there will be a hospital and doctors and nurses that will help fix things.

I’m not sure what we can do to make the scary parts better but I told him that I’d rather do something concrete like make lists and gather supplies for the birth and the baby than to have him trying to do something about me and for me all the time. More letting me participate in the doing and less gilded bars. Sometimes it feels like my spirit is suffocating and that isn’t good for either of us though I hadn’t admitted that even to myself. And I have a feeling that keeps wiggling around like a maggot in my brain so that I can’t ignore it that Rand and I are going to need each other more than ever, that he is going to have to let me help whether he likes it or not.

We thought that our problems had gotten just as bad as they could get and that we were turning the corner so that we could start improving our lot. The swap meets, the businesses that are springing up, the garden, all of the work he is being contracted to do; and even Austin coming to live with us are all improvements over the way things have been. But it looks like we are about to experience more hard times; or maybe that is dangerous times.

With the thawing of the north, a lot of refugees have come to find that the food programs that some politicians had promised them are never going to materialize. They are hungry, cold, malnourished, sick … you name it it’s out there. Just like when massive numbers of people left the big cities when the rumors of imminent nuclear war occurred, stripping the land like locusts of anything they could get their hands on, there is now another exodus occurring. This exodus has nothing to do with cities and has to do with weather and natural resources. Many thousands of survivors of the pandemic have died over the winter from the cold; just as many have died of disease and the lack of advanced medical interventions. Starvation took no small number as well.

The retched refugees of winter are heading south in some mistaken belief that places like Florida have some magical formula that will cure their ills, that the resources are somehow just laying around waiting to be salvaged. To the contrary, we are having enough trouble feeding ourselves and storing enough for later, how are we supposed to take care of anyone else, especially the large numbers that are expected to arrive on our doorstep? The federal government has already taken over most of the commercial citrus groves here in Florida for the benefit of the active duty personnel. Out west, commercial grain fields are being managed by the feds. Commercial dairies and livestock have met the same fate. We’ve heard via the radio that some farmers do their best to hide their livestock so that it can’t be requisitioned by the feds in their redistribution of resources mandates.

Rand worries a little about the fields of veggies and grains we are trying to grow because if the feds start using satellite imaging or airplanes to find crops then we are in big trouble. That sounds so totally sci-fi to me and not more than a little paranoid. I’m not sure what to say about it, how to respond when he brings it up. I suppose it is possible but still, if they are basically laying off the military would they really still be capable of pulling that kind of stunt on what amounts to your basic subsistence farmer? It’s really a weird thought for me to wrap my head around.

I’m not sure what we can do. Rand is talking about some type of perimeter that covers all 120 acres that we now call ours. I just can’t imagine it. Parts of the new eighty acre square are already bordered with large cedar trees that were planted along the fence row. There is also a section of that fencing that it would take a tractor to get through because of all the saw brier and Devil’s Walking Stick all tangled together. Sections of fence along the original forty are like that as well. And we are fairly hidden back in here … but hungry people are desperate people and if someone overhears something or even just stumbles over our location we could be in big trouble.

But I just can’t spend all day worrying about all of that. I know we need to do something and Rand has a couple of ideas, but it isn’t going to happen overnight no matter how badly Rand might want it to. There just aren’t enough hours in the day much less people committed to seeing it gets done.

I wanted to distract Rand from his worries for a little while at least and I was kind of starving by the time it came to prepare dinner so I made a pan of polenta lasagna. It seemed as good a way as any to start transitioning to using more whole grains instead of refined foods. I mean I had already been doing that all along but it’s been hard to give up the habit of using fine white flour for everything.

First you have to make the polenta and you do this by taking four cups of boiling water in a medium sausce pan and slowly adding one and a half cups of yellow cornmeal, stirring constantly with a wire whisk. Then you reduce the head to low and stir in four teaspoons of finely chopped fresh marjoram. Thank goodness my pots of herbs didn’t get destroyed by the freezes we had. You simmer that for fifteen to twenty minutes or until the polenta thickens and pulls away from the sides of the pan. Spread the polenta in a 13 x 9 inch ungreased baking sheet and cover and chill it for one hour while you make the rest of the dish. This firms it up.

You make the rest of the dish by heating oil in a skillet over medium heat. You are going to cook and stir one pound of fresh mushrooms (Mrs. Withrow sent these over as the boy who lives with her had picked way more than they could use), some chopped onion, , and a clove of minced garlic for five minutes or until vegetables are crisp tender. You are supposed to stir in one half cup of mozzarella cheese but I had to use the white farmer’s cheese that I make and it was a reasonable substitute especially after I also added two tablespoons of fresh chopped basil, one tablespoon of fresh chopped oregano, and an eighth of a teaspoon of fresh ground black pepper.

The next part I cheated on a little bit. I took Momma’s old blender and snuck up to the dormer room with it. The blender help two medium red bell peppers, chopped and seeded, fresh from the green house and a quarter cup of water. I plugged the blender into the inverter and ran it just long to get them smooth. I could have done it by hand with that old hand mixer of Mom’s but I was tired.

While your oven is heating to around 350 degrees F spray a 11 x 7 inch baking pan with non-stick spray or grease it, whatever you have to do to keep things from sticking. Cut the cold polenta into twelve squares and arrange six of them in the bottom of the prepared dish. Spread half of the bell pepper puree and then half of the vegetable mixture on top of that; and then sprinkle a little Parmesan cheese if you have it. Place the remaining six polenta squares on top of that layer and then top that with the remaining pepper and vegetable mixtures and sprinkle a little more cheese on top. You bake this mess for about twenty minutes or until the cheese is melted and the exposed pieces of polenta are golden brown. It is filling and very good. The funny thing is that I never had to explain to Rand and Austin that there weren’t any tomatoes in the lasagna, they didn’t even seem to notice; red was red and good was good.

March 11th – Doing laundry isn’t exactly a breeze but it sure is easier with the new set up Rand built, I was done in less than half the time it used to take and that was with the extra laundry that Austin creates. That left me time to work in the garden a bit and to get back to planning which I did while I pressed our clothes for the church service tomorrow. Rand is dreading it something awful. I sympathize with him, I really do, but at the same time there is a part of me that is secretly hoping that if he gets any pinches from anyone it reinforces that messing around to try and get me to react could backfire big time. And now I’ll shut up about that spiteful part of me; I really don’t need to encourage it any.

In the original garden patch things are growing really well, even better than last season. The new garden areas aren’t growing as well but they still aren’t anything to sneeze at. The part of the equation though that I hadn’t taken into account as much as I should is that there is only one of me and that one is getting fatter and slower by the day. Austin is a big help but I feel so foolish sometimes having to tilt this way and that to see what is just at my feet.

Funny thing happened after we finally went to bed last night. I was three-quarters asleep with Rand’s arm draped over me when he sits up, jerks the covers off me, turns the lamp on in my face and almost shouts, “It moved!” Not particularly happy to be ripped out of near sleep I still started laughing at the look on Rand’s face.

“Duh! I told you he’d been moving around for a while.”

“Yeah. Yeah … but …”

“Uh, you going to be sick or something? Your face looks awful funny.”

“Ha … ha … ha. It just startled me is all. Make it do it again.”

“OK one, our baby is not an ‘it’ and two, he moves when he feels like it.”

“How do you know it’s a boy?”

“I guess I don’t but that’s better than calling the baby an ‘it.’”

I lay down and went back to sleep. I don’t know how long Rand stayed up waiting for the baby to move again. Now every time I turn around he’s there putting his hands on my stomach. It’s a little embarrassing but if it makes him happy then whatever. But if he does that in front of anyone else I think I may just have to whack him with a stick or something to knock some sense back into him.

March 12th – I got lots of sympathy at the church service today and Rand got a lot of kidding. Well, most of it was kidding; Momma O and Mrs. Withrow had him flanked and really laid into him for a good fifteen minutes. I didn't intervene, I'm not crazy. Missy was barely speaking to him until I asked her to knock it off. It still took her a while to warm up to him but I think I managed to get everything smoothed out. Well, smoothed out with everyone but Laurabeth and even that seems like it isn’t quite as bad as it used to be.

Laurabeth doesn’t look good. I can’t imagine that is a surprise all things considered but it goes beyond just her physical appearance. I don’t know how to put into words but if there was such a thing as an energy vampire I would say that she’s a victim of one that has a deep hold on her. For long moments of a time I could see the old Laurabeth trying to peak through, trying to come back to life and then something would set her off and it would look like she would lose the will to live; twice when she didn’t think anyone was looking something twisted and sick looked out at the world wearing Laurabeth’s face. Both those times I saw Ron bend down and pick Stevie up from her lap and it startled her back to herself.

Alicia, Missy, and I found a quiet spot and did some talking. The men left us alone because they thought we were talking about birthing and babies. The women left us alone because they thought it was family checking to see if Rand and I had really patched things up. It was family trouble all right, just not about Rand and I. Uncle George and Ron Harbinger are having a … well, calling it a disagreement right now isn’t really what is going on but it is something. They each have their own idea on how to help Laurabeth.

Missy said her dad is going down the same road he took with Janet. He’s being super protective to the point where you can see Laurabeth has no reason to try to get better. He makes all kinds of excuses for her behavior and generally would rather warn people off than deal with Laurabeth’s problems. Ron on the other hand keeps trying to tug her in the other direction, hold her accountable for her actions, force her to participate in constructive things going on around her. He doesn’t abuse her but he does take the baby away from her when she appears to be in certain moods or behaving in a certain way.

Missy wanted to know what I thought. She just flat out said that since I’d been in therapy before I should have some opinion on it. For about two seconds I wanted to hit her but in the end I figure Missy is just blunt to a fault and considering I’m pretty much like that myself I would be a hypocrite for objecting at this point. So I told them.

My honest opinion is that Ron has the better approach than Uncle George. It may seem cruel and maybe he’ll need to watch that he doesn’t go all stick-and-carrot all the time, but letting Laurabeth just get away with things because we pity her is not healthy. She’s grieving and may even be unbalanced, I don’t know, but reinforcing bad behaviors isn’t going to help her.

When I asked them why, if Uncle George was so sure that his way was best, he didn’t kick Ron out of the house they said it was because of Stevie.

Alicia whispered, “Laurabeth needs Stevie and Stevie needs Laurabeth. Uncle George knows it and Ron knows it. There have been other women that offered to wet nurse Stevie but Ron … it’s weird … it’s like he is doing everything he can in spite of how Laurabeth is acting to make sure that Stevie can stay with her.”

Missy added, “Weird isn’t the word for it. I was worried that he was trying to turn Laurabeth into Julia and flat out asked him about it.”

“Missy!” Alicia gasped, shocked.

I was thinking kudos to Missy for caring enough to do it. She said, “Well, what I was supposed to do? Wait until something bad happened and then make some kind of excuse for why I didn’t? So I asked him. It’s one of the few times lately that I’ve seen him lose that stone marble look off of his face. You know how slow he talks lately, like he’s struggling to get every syllable out. ‘No. No, I wouldn’t do that to her. I messed up with Julia and it cost her her life even if it took the long way around for it to happen. I … I don’t want to hurt Laurabeth but I think … Stevie needs her … my son needs Laurabeth and she needs him. I just want to fix it so my son gets what he needs and since Laurabeth is what he needs then I’m going to do my best for her too so that she can be there for Stevie.’ I have to tell you I never thought I would hear those kinds of words out of the mouth of a Harbinger, much less Ron Harbinger.”

“God moves in mysterious ways,” I muttered after a second.

“Oh Lord girl, don’t go all Amen pew on us!”

I had to laugh at the expression on Missy’s face. “No, not really. It’s just something I can remember one of grandmother’s sisters saying pretty regular. But you have to admit it’s true.”

“True or not I still don’t understand why it had to happen much less why it had to happen to Laurabeth, she was the best of us. She was always the good girl and did everything dad expected her to and then some.”

“Sometimes asking why doesn’t help. There are some things that we just won’t understand here on Earth I think. I had to stop asking why my family had to die, it was making it too hard for me to live. I haven’t forgotten about them or anything like that but I had to accept their deaths and … and … get rid of the chains I had wrapped myself up in. Now I can have the memories of them with me all the time without the pain the chains used to cause.”

Alicia said, “Kiri, I wish there was some way that you could talk to Laurabeth.”

“I’m no one special Alicia. And besides, Laurabeth isn’t ready. She has the right to grieve and no one should try and take that away from her. Eventually she’ll get to the point … “

“Talking about me behind my back? Not very sisterly,” Laurabeth sneered in a dead sounding voice.

Missy and Alicia were actually afraid and that’s probably what gave me the courage to turn around and confront Laurabeth. She had Stevie in her arms.

I told her, “Sorry Laurabeth. It’s hard not to talk about the people you care for when you are worried about them.”

She kept a mulish expression on her face but she looked less like she wanted a fight. “Well don’t. How would you know how I feel anyway? You’ve still got your husband and baby … and I hate you for it. Hate you, hate you, hate you.”

“I expected as much. But since I lost my parents and little brother, my aunt and uncle, and who knows how many other family members since I haven’t heard from them you are being more than a little blind if you really can’t see how I would know how you feel.”

“Oh shut up, it’s not the same at all.”

“It might not be exactly the same but it does give me a point of reference. And all I have to do is imagine what you must be going through and I get all messed up in the head.”

My admission threw her off her stride and she just tucked Stevie into the crook of her arm a little more securely. Ron came up and asked, “If you’re tired I’ll take Stevie for a little while.”

Laurabeth startled. “No! No. I … I’m fine. A little walk did me good and see? Stevie looks like he enjoyed it too.”

Ron just stared at her. “OK. But you didn’t tell your dad where you were going and he got worried. You shouldn’t do that.”

“Oh, I just forgot. I won’t forget again Ron. I won’t.”

“Don’t tell me that, tell him. Come on, I’ll walk back with you. You haven’t eaten any lunch yet and you’re looking pale again.”

After they left Missy turned to me and said, “See what we mean? That can’t be normal. That's not something a casual acquaintance would do and I don't think Laurabeth and Ron ever had anything to do with one another.”

“Maybe not but I don’t think Ron means any harm in it. He does seem to have her best interests at heart even if it is for Stevie’s sake.”

Alicia said, “Uh oh.”

We both looked to see what was up and a bunch of the men were congregated around a radio Mr. Coffey’s son had brought. Atlanta is burning, and it isn't an accident.