Aster Wood series Box Set

by J B Cantwell

A shadow passed across Carl’s face.

  “I been in the same place the whole time,” he said. “Delivery truck refused to give me a ride up the mountain. Nothing I could do but stay put and hope my luck would change. And it did.” He nodded in our direction, and then pulled out the tiny plastic bag with his share of the gold floating inside it.

  “Whoa!” Caleb said, making to snatch the bag away.

  Carl was too quick for him, but it was clear that his father’s haul was far greater than the children were used to. He held the bag up to the light for all to see. Just two bare lightbulbs hanging from wires lit the entire space, but the gold dust sparkled brilliantly as he tilted the bag, inspecting his pay for weeks of work, weeks away from his family. The looks on every face, including Amos’, were like children gazing at a fireworks show. Amazed. Unbelieving.

  Amos recovered first, cutting through the shocked silence.

  “Good thing,” he said. “Those same boys told us that after this trip, they won’t be coming anymore.”

  Carl’s hand dropped back to his side.

  “What?”

  His face instantly fell into a scowl, the same look he had had when explaining their refusal to take him up the mountain. But then, an unmistakable look of fear flashed across his face, and he rose from the couch, agitated. Even the children quieted at the change in his demeanor. He let out a long, slow breath, and I got the impression he was curbing a curse for the sake of the kids. He lumbered into the tiny kitchen space, leaning his hands against the counter, staring down at the floor as if the answers to how he was going to feed his family was a code hidden within the tiles.

  All the life of the reunification party drained away. The children alternated staring blankly into space and then up at their father, trying to determine what this all meant for them.

  “It’ll be alright” Amos said. He stood up, too, and slapped Carl on the back with one hand. “We got crops.”

  “Not enough crops,” Carl said, his voice quiet, his eyes still on the floor.

  “Between what we got and the wildlife comin’ back these days, we’ll be okay,” Amos said. “Besides, that’s no small bag of gold you got there. That’ll keep you all fed for a year or more.”

  “And what about everybody else?” Carl asked. “What about Martha and the girls? Or Mr. Jamison and the kids down at the school? Who’s gonna feed them for a year or more?”

  “We’ll figure something out,” Amos said. But the look on his face told the truth. It was clear he had been chewing on this problem for some time. And that he didn’t have an answer.

  Sean recovered before the other children.

  “It’ll be okay, Dad,” he said, coming around to catch his father’s eye. “I bagged two deer last month alone.”

  Carl looked up.

  “Two deer ain’t gonna feed seventy three people, Sean,” he said.

  “No, but all of it together will,” he argued. “If you found all that gold in just a few months, you can go get more. Can’t you?”

  Now Carl’s gaze fell on Cait, and I knew that he was weighing the possibility of following us to California again. Following us into what he clearly thought was a suicide mission. I, for one, wouldn’t have turned him down if he had really wanted to come. I knew that whatever he had seen the last time he had strayed from the mountains was terrifying to him. It seemed like the more help we had in a situation like that, the better off we’d be.

  “There’s always the city,” Mom said.

  It was an innocent comment, and she only meant to help, I was sure. But it was immediately clear that she had said the wrong thing.

  “We ain’t moving to the city,” Carl boomed, rounding on her.

  She had touched some sort of nerve. His voice was angry, and suddenly he seemed much larger than he had before.

  Mom shrank back into the corner of the room where she had been leaning. In her surprise, she dropped her tea, the mug making a dull thunk as it hit the carpeted floor.

  It occurred to me just how large Carl was. I wasn’t sure if I should get to my feet, if I needed to defend my mother somehow, or if he was just blowing off steam. For a moment I neither sat nor stood, trying to decide. Amos saved me, stepping in front of him and putting one hand on his chest.

  “That’ll be enough, Carl,” he said. “The woman is only trying—”

  “Get your hands off me,” Carl snapped, focusing his attention on Amos now. His temper was rising with alarming speed. He pushed Amos’ hand away angrily and shoved him backwards.

  This was a mistake.

  Amos came at Carl like a freight train, and I was surprised and not a little alarmed at the strength with which he pushed him up against his own kitchen cabinets.

  “Knock it off, you idiot,” Amos snarled, a fistful of Carls’s shirt in his grip.

  Carl’s nostrils flared, and his chest heaved as he fought against Amos’ hold. But there was nothing he could do. I couldn’t tell how, but somehow Amos had him under control, even though Carl seemed twice his size.

  A moment later Amos released him, his face disgusted.

  Carl crumpled, sliding down to the ground. He sat against the cabinets and stared into space, his brief loss of control seemingly over. I stood back, staring between the two, amazed at the power the smaller man seemed to have over the larger.

  I needed this Amos guy to give me some lessons.

  Immediately, Carl’s children were upon him again, this time hugging him to console.

  “It’ll be okay, Daddy,” Lily said, wrapping her little arms around his thick neck.

  Her voice in his ear seemed to bring him to his senses, and he patted her arm and kissed her cheek. A moment later, he unhooked her arms and smiled at her. Then, he climbed back to his feet.

  “We’ve got a lot of work to do if we plan on staying here,” he said, trying hard to smile at Sean.

  The boy stepped forward as if he had just been called to duty. Sean was no longer a kid, that much was sure. He spoke and was spoken to like a man. One who deserved respect. One who had earned his place.

  “Like I said,” Sean said. “We’re on our way. I’ve only gone maybe ten miles from here when I hunt, and only north. There’s plenty more land to explore.”

  Carl nodded, then turned to Mom, who had just barely recovered from the unexpected outburst.

  “I’m awfully sorry, Dana,” he said.

  He approached her slowly, like a hunter not wanting to frighten away his prey. He held out one hand to shake hers.

  But Mom was having none of it. She crossed both arms over her chest, her tea forgotten on the floor where it had fallen. He had lost whatever trust she had had in him.

  Realizing this, Carl dropped his eyes and turned back to Sean and Amos.

  “Well, we better get to it,” he said.

  “Aww, Dad,” Lily and Caleb complained at once. “But you just got back!”

  “Yeah,” he said. “And back I’ll stay.” He ran one hand lovingly down each of their cheeks and then turned to go.

  I then realized something as he walked out the door that I hadn’t really considered before. We really didn’t know Carl at all. I didn’t get the impression he was a bad guy. It seemed like he was just a man put under too much pressure for too long. But his outburst was a reminder that I didn’t know what to expect of any one of the people accompanying me when they were put under pressure. How would Grandma react? Mom? Would they crack when faced with seemingly impossible tasks? Or would they rise up and take it all in stride?

  I guess it didn’t really matter. Who was I to judge my travel mates? I was the one hunting down a known madman to take along with the group.

  But I couldn’t help but remember Kiron’s warning he had spoken to me so long ago, it felt like a different lifetime.

  Trust no one.

  Chapter 16

  “Don’t judge him too harshly,” Grandma said ten minutes later. Carl, Amos and Sean had cleared out moments before, on their way to start their preparati
ons for this new, unsupported life they intended to lead in the mountains. “The whole situation effects everyone differently. Some handle it better than others. But then, some have lost more than others, too.” She glanced over at the small, framed picture sitting on the bookshelf. A woman, dark haired and pretty, stared back from the tiny portrait. “We’re all doing the best we can.”

  Mom was staring out the window after them. Her fingers drummed on the windowsill, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip. Finally, when it seemed she was satisfied that they were truly gone, she turned.

  “We’re leaving,” she said. “Now.”

  “But we just got here,” Cait whined. She and Lily had found a spot on the floor to sit together, three dolls between them.

  Caleb looked up from where he stood over the stove, stirring the pot as if feeding family and guests was something kids his age were expected to do every day.

  “Where are you going?” he said. “Lunch is almost ready.”

  “I’m sorry, hon,” Mom said, brushing past him. “But we’ve gotta get moving.”

  He tapped the spoon and set it on the counter, approaching her. He seemed concerned.

  “Why? Cause of Dad? Don’t worry about him.”

  Mom ignored him and cracked open the front door, pulling up the collar of her coat to cover her exposed neck.

  “Let’s go,” she said. “You, too, Cait.”

  Cait made a frustrated sound, then threw down the doll she had been playing with and stomped across the room. I exchanged a glance with Grandma, but it was clear she was also in favor of leaving. Or, at least, not opposed to it. I was the last one out the door and I paused, turning to say goodbye to the two kids, left alone again. Looking around at the tiny cabin, I realized that there was a part of the warmth of the place that was just a facade. The walls had cracks that ran from floor to ceiling. The faint smell of mold hung in the air, though mostly overpowered by the smell of lunch. And Lily and Caleb, while friendly and smiling, were thin. Not starving, but thin. We were all just hanging onto whatever we could, doing whatever it took to survive.

  “Well,” I finally said. “See ya.”

  I turned and followed the other three back out towards the car, leaving Caleb staring as he stood in the doorway.

  Mom was already in the driver’s seat, fumbling with her seatbelt. I was sure that, if she hadn’t been worried about calling attention to the fact that we were leaving, she would have honked the horn at me to tell me to hurry up. Once her belt was fastened, she settled for a familiar glare in my direction, and I shut the door behind me and made my way back out across the icy driveway.

  Just as I was sliding into my seat beside a very put-out Cait, Mom put the key in the ignition. The engine turned over. And over. She paused, then tried again. The noise of the car trying to start continued, but no spark came to bring it back to life. She stopped again, staring at Grandma. There was no mistaking it; Grandma looked as worried as Mom did in that moment. We had told the kids we were leaving, and now we couldn’t. My stomach swirled as I tried to think of what we’d do now.

  What if we couldn’t get the car to start?

  How would we get to Dad then?

  I fingered the familiar stone link around my neck, trying to imagine jumping with three other people all the way from here to California. It sounded miserable. In fact, making the number of jumps I would need to get all the way there would have been miserable on my own. With four of us it would be a nightmare.

  Finally, after one last try, Mom seemed to give up, resting her forehead against the steering wheel.

  Cait’s breath came out in white clouds in the backseat of the car. I shoved my fingers, quickly freezing, between my thighs to keep them warm.

  “What do we do now?” I asked, as much to myself as to Mom.

  “I’ll have a look,” Grandma said, opening her door and hoisting herself out.

  Mom pulled on the latch to unlock the hood, and Grandma propped it up with the precision of an expert. I guess year after year on the farm alone had taught her to be more self-sufficient than the rest of us. Though maybe that had always been the case. In the city, even before the drought, people didn’t need to think about things like fixing cars on their own. They just called up the shop and men would come to tow the offending vehicle away, either repairing it or replacing it with something new. There had never been much need within those walls for that sort of resourcefulness.

  But out in the rolling fields, where heavy traffic was now considered a single truck on any given day, resourcefulness was life. When the drought came, Grandma had erected two dozen growing beds in the sunny spot beside her house, where she could carefully control how much water each plant was given. When the rains came, she soon covered her precious vegetables with plastic sheeting to protect them from this new, most unexpected danger. And when the clean water in the pipes had run out, she had taught herself to distill her own drinking water from the acid runoff on the roof of the house.

  She was not to be trifled with.

  I caught glimpses of her from the crack beneath the hood. Her face was stern, concentrating.

  “Try it again, Dana,” she called.

  Mom turned the key. The sound of the engine trying to come to life first caused excitement, and then, when it failed again, rattled me.

  Through the crack, I saw Grandma rest both hands on the car, staring down at the engine as she tried to figure out the problem. I opened my door and hopped out to see if I could help.

  I walked around the front, and she glanced up. The look on her face did not comfort me.

  “Fuel pump,” she muttered, staring back down.

  “Oh,” I said. “Is that bad?”

  She snorted, then turned and rested against the car.

  “Yep,” she said, blowing a long sigh. “That’s bad.”

  Mom’s car door opened, and she walked around the front of the car. From inside, I could hear Cait whining again.

  “How bad is it?” Mom asked.

  “Well, if there’s an auto parts store around here, then we’ll be able to make do,” Grandma said. “Did you happen to see one on the drive up?”

  We all fell silent.

  “Maybe Carl has one,” I suggested.

  Mom shot me a look, but she knew as well as I did that we were going to need the man’s help again before this was over.

  “Yeah,” Grandma said.

  Hearing Cait’s indignant complaints, I walked around to her side and opened her door.

  “Go on back in,” I said. “The car’s broken.”

  Her protestations died on her lips.

  “Yay!” she said, too excited to see her new friend again so soon to worry about how we were going to get anywhere now. She scrambled back towards the front door, opening it without bothering to knock, and not bothering to close it properly as she bounded inside.

  “Lily!” she called, quickly disappearing back into the tiny cabin.

  I turned back to the engine, nothing more to me than a snarl of hoses and wires and plugs I didn’t understand. Grandma released the hood and let it fall closed with a slam.

  How were we going to get anywhere now?

  I shoved my hands into my armpits to warm them, but shivers were breaking out all over every inch of my exposed skin.

  “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go back in before we freeze.”

  I walked back towards the cabin, but Mom and Grandma stood out in the cold for a few minutes longer. As I closed myself back into the warmth, I watched them talking out front.

  “Don’t worry,” Caleb said from behind me. He reached around and held out a bowl of soup. “Dad’s a whiz with cars. He’ll be able to help.”

  A heavy knot of guilt hung in my chest. Here we had been about to abandon Carl, not even bothering to say goodbye, and now we would need his help to even make it out of the mountains. I looked up at Caleb, wondering how discreet he might be about our attempt at an early departure.

  “It’s okay,” he said, st
ill holding out the bowl. “I won’t tell him.”

  In that moment I was more than grateful for Caleb’s interest in me. An hour ago he had been annoying, but his desire to show his worth to the older kids was sure coming in handy now. It wasn’t just that, though. Not only was he agreeing to keep our secret, but it had been his own idea to not tell Carl in the first place. It occurred to me that these people were used to making their own difficult decisions, even at a young age. They needed to be able to choose their own path in every circumstance, even dangerous ones. They needed to navigate each different personality of their neighbors, always keeping in mind the need to survive, always calculating how best to keep the peace while keeping themselves safe and fed. Even the kids.

  I took the bowl of soup.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  The bowl was hot, and it burned against my frozen fingers as I held it. I put it down on the counter and kept my fingers just an inch from the surface, soaking up the heat without searing my skin.

  “Dad’s not bad, you know,” he said between blowing on the soup in his spoon. “He’s just got a lot to deal with.”

  “I know,” I said. I didn’t, of course, but it seemed like the polite thing to say. The truth was, aside from the one outburst, being around Carl had been easy. Downright pleasurable, even.

  He glanced up at me again as he slurped his soup.

  “Where are you guys going, anyways?” he asked, clearly trying to keep his tone casual. I wondered how happy he was living up here in the mountains, knowing that the world down below was unpleasant and threatening, but that the food always showed up with a consistency that could be counted on.

  “California,” I said, taking a bite of my own lunch.

  “Whoa,” he said, his spoon clinking back down into his bowl. “Why would you go to California?”

  “My Dad is there,” I said.

  “Oh.” Another bite of soup. “Are you going to live with him?”

  I laughed, which surprised me considering what a mess we were in.

  “No,” I said. “We’re going to get him. To bring him…home.”

  The front door opened, a waft of freezing air blowing through the cabin, sucking the heat through the doorway like a giant vacuum. Grandma rubbed her hands together and blew on them. She looked frozen solid.