by E A Lake
Rubbing the top of her head, I fought back my tears. Scared pretty well summed it up. Starvation wasn’t pretty. People did desperate things when their food let out. Hopefully, we wouldn’t be there anytime soon.
Chapter 57
Two days after the harvest, on a chilly, windy fall afternoon, there was a rap on our back door. Sunshine was out of her most recent doldrums and skipped to the door to greet our visitors—Mr. and Mrs. Frederickson.
With them, they brought a bounty of goods: several loaves of flatbread, three jars of raspberry preserves, two smallish blocks of cheese, and a jar of butter. All things we didn’t have… or even know how to get any longer.
We sat and drank glasses of tepid water together as Mr. Frederickson told us of their new adventure four miles away. They were settled in nicely, the kids all got along, and for the most part, things were all right.
When he asked how we were doing and how the harvest went, I couldn’t hide my disappointment.
For the first time in months, I let myself completely fall apart in front of people that I knew actually cared about me. The sad expressions and gentle touches told me it was okay to let it out… all of it.
“You have to trust in God, Mrs. Turner,” Mrs. Frederickson told me. “He will never leave you alone.”
“And remember,” Mr. Frederickson added, “we’ll help out as much as we can. We lost some cattle and pigs in the fire, but we still have enough.”
However, my perception of the truth was the polar opposite of their words of encouragement.
There was no God. I mean, how could there be? What kind of loving omnipotent being deserts his children as the earth and its inhabitants had been? It wasn’t possible.
That left our former neighbors’ generosity. If the winter was as mild as some could be, they’d be able to get to us. But if the temperatures dipped below zero for days, if the north wind blew in windchills that could freeze exposed flesh in minutes, if the snows piled up too deep on the roads, Sunshine and I wouldn’t be found alive, come spring.
“Have you talked with Mr. Hulton?” Mr. Frederickson asked. “I know he’s a hard man to figure out, but I believe he has a heart. I can’t see him letting you perish.”
Before I could answer, a thought struck me from nowhere. The answer to our problems didn’t lie with Rickard Hulton, though. No; his wife was the benevolent one. I remembered that from my ride with Mr. Lasky. A meeting with Rena Hulton might be our salvation.
“I think you’re crazy, girl. Pure. Bona fide. Crazy.” Sunshine paced in front of me while I lounged on a couch in the living room.
I felt almost giddy, giggly. Why hadn’t I thought of that before? Why would I waste my time groveling at the feet of Mr. Hulton when an honest heart-to-heart with his wife would serve our needs better? I could be so stupid at times.
“I’ll ask Mr. Lasky if he can set up a meeting with Mrs. Hulton the next time I see him,” I replied, waving off Sunshine’s concern with the flip of a wrist. “He and I have an understanding, you see. Ever since our time together on the road to Rigby. I think he gets me better, now.”
Sunshine stopped her pacing and faced me directly, wide-eyed. “Are you nuts? The last time he was here, he was like a grizzly bear. He didn’t say one sociable word the whole time.” She shook a finger at me. “I heard everything, you know. Saw it too. He ain’t gonna do shit for you.”
Reaching for her hands, I smiled. “Sunshine, you have to be more positive.” She ripped her hands from mine to begin her blasted romp again. “These people are our friends, not our enemies.”
“Hulton’s gonna lose his mind if he finds out you went behind his back to his wife, Abby.” Sunshine squeezed her hair in her shaky hands. “He’s gonna have Lasky come over here and shoot us both. Or worse. They’ll kill me and make you their bitch. That’s what’s gonna happen, I tell you.”
I shook my head and leaned back. “You overexaggerate so badly, Sunshine. The worst they can do is tell us no. And I truly believe that if Mrs. Hulton hears of our plight and worries… well, there’ll probably be a yes.”
Her hands fidgeted in front of her face. “How many times you spoken to Mrs. Hulton? In all the years you been here?”
“That’s not the point,” I countered.
She glared at me. “How many times? About?”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I let out a shallow sigh. “Several.”
“Two, three, four? Exactly.”
I nodded, acting as if I was attempting to recall the numerous occasions. But the answer was far simpler than that. “Two… to be exact.”
Her face inched closer to mine. “Anything other than talk about the weather or what a pretty day it was?”
Damn that girl. I was beginning to think she was against me as well.
“Not exactly,” I admitted. “But she always seemed pleasant the times we did speak.”
“I bet she was,” Sunshine muttered, turning away.
“She is the one who sent Mr. Lasky to take me to Rigby,” I said, jumping from the couch. “And she got Luke’s contract reduced this past spring after the shooting incident in the garden.”
Sunshine spun and slowly shook her head at me, her eyes clouded over with tears.
“Walker’s contract, Abby. Walker, your son!” she cried. “And she may have dreamt it all up, but without her husband’s permission, nothing happens. Not one damned thing. And you know that full well.”
She had a point. But so did I, sort of.
“I truly believe it’s worth a try,” I said, some of my confidence waning. “If I can just get five minutes of her time…”
“And if I can just get five minutes alone with Walker, he’ll never look at another woman!” Sunshine shouted. “Unfortunately for you, my chances are a whole lot better than yours. And you know it.”
Maybe, maybe not. I guess we’d just see about that.
Chapter 58
I slept on my latest plan, knowing that things would be even clearer in the morning. Problem was when morning arrived, I wasn’t so certain anymore. Doubt began to creep into the edges of my confidence like fog around an open field.
When I informed Sunshine of my decision to hold off on speaking with Mrs. Hulton, I expected her to gloat. She loved it when she was right; I hated it.
“I knew you’d come to your senses,” she said in a way that displayed her approval with little condemnation. “I mean, if things get bad this winter, I suppose you could try it then. Hell, it will be obvious to them if we’re starving to death.”
With my mind in a clearer state, I refocused my energy on worrying about the harvest. It was meager—terribly meager. I began to wonder if we’d even clear the 20-pound mark. Only bad things would come if we went negative on Mr. Hulton’s precious crops.
First off, we wouldn’t receive any credits at the Amish store. That meant a winter on our own, left to our own abilities. To be honest, beyond whining, Sunshine and I had few other talents at that point.
Two thousand credits was ideal. Okay, maybe not ideal, but doable. That would give us 40 credits a week at the store. Everyone at the Hulton ranch claimed a small family could survive on 40 credits a week though I believed they thought we could take a deer here and there and perhaps snare some small game occasionally.
If we received half of our allotment, 1,000 credits, I figured we could eke by somehow. Maybe with a mild winter, we’d be just fine. Warmer than normal temperatures and little snow would make it easier for our Amish friends to deliver a weekly care package. That, and the limited food and supplies from the store, should be enough to see us through until next fall’s harvest.
But there lay the larger problem. Depending on our yield, Mr. Hulton might or might not renew our contract. If he did, we’d make next year’s crops our best ever. I’d make sure of that personally.
If he didn’t renew our annual deal for growing crops, I was afraid Sunshine and I were doomed. That would be the end of credits at the store, and that would be the en
d of us.
We had nothing else to trade with our Amish neighbors. Both of us were so weak our labor wouldn’t get us a single credit. We had no other talents such as sewing or canning that they needed. If you counted Sunshine’s squash soup, we had exactly one talent to bargain with. And I was afraid that wasn’t enough.
It all depended on the harvest, something completely out of our hands.
“I have a plan,” I announced to my friend two days later. “And I think it’s a fairly decent plan. Want to hear it?”
She glared at me with a skeptical expression. “I ain’t marrying one of those Amish boys just so you can survive. They ain’t my type.”
Circling the kitchen table, I took the spot next to her.
“It has nothing to do with either of us marrying someone we don’t want to,” I said, trying to give her a smile. She wasn’t in the smiling mood, it seemed.
“If things are bad, and I mean real bad, I’m still going to try and speak with Mrs. Hulton.” I paused, hoping for a response, but my words made Sunshine frown and fidget in her chair.
“You better have a better plan than that, Abby,” she countered. “Otherwise, we’re going to starve.”
I placed my hands on the table, palms down. “If that doesn’t work—”
“Which it won’t,” she interrupted.
“If that doesn’t work, I’ll discuss extending Walker’s contract with Mr. Hulton.” She shook her head and glanced away from me.
“Listen to me, Sunshine. If we can just get enough from Hulton to live for the next nine months, we’ll be all right.” I’m sure I sounded desperate to her even though I tried my darnedest to be positive.
“If we could get what we need and it costs us another six months without Walker, we’ll be okay,” I continued, pushing on through her open-mouthed head shakes. “That would mean he’ll come back to us the following spring. All we’d lose of him was another winter. And all we’d do during the winter is sit around and stare at each other.”
The sides of her mouth remained downturned. “Maybe I got other plans.”
I took her cold hands and squeezed tight. “You wouldn’t leave me, not in my darkest hour. I know better.”
Her eyes remained glued to mine. “Me and Walker, dummy.”
Fighting back the urge to scream, I considered her feelings. Ever since she showed up on our doorstep two years prior, she and Walker always seemed to have a special bond. I always assumed it was because Sunshine was immature and the only non-Amish female within five miles. I was afraid to ever admit there might be more to it than that.
“You know what they say,” I whispered so that she’d have to pay close attention. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
Slowly, a smile came to her thin face. “You are so full of shit, Abigail Turner. You know that, right?”
My head dipped to the right as I felt a blush come on. “I am a mother. Denial is one of a mother’s biggest weapons.”
She nodded and squeezed my hands. “What else you got? Neither of those sound too grand to me.”
Releasing a shallow breath between my tight lips, I leaned back, open armed. “Well, I’m not giving him to Mr. Hulton in exchange for a life of missing him. That wouldn’t serve either of our needs.”
She nodded again, this time more serious. “Damn straight.”
“So one of those two options had better work,” I added. “Either we get benevolence from Mrs. Hulton, or we have to deal with Mister himself.”
“So you’ve given up on our harvest?” she asked, sounding less accusatorial than she had a right to.
My hand stroked my chin, a stray finger rubbing my chapped lower lip. “We need options, Sunshine. Just in case it isn’t what we hoped for.”
We sat together silently for a long time after that. The sun set before either of us moved from our spots, both consumed with dread and worry and thoughts of a tough winter—in other words, our reality.
Chapter 59
Waiting for Mr. Lasky’s return became an impossible ordeal. Day after day, I watched the road for any sign of his return. Though I dreaded whatever news he’d have to report, I wanted it over with. Our fate, hung in the balance.
We passed the time by harvesting what plant skeletons remained in the garden. I had pledged the dried corn stalks to Mr. Frederickson for use with his animals. I wasn’t sure what good they were, but his family’s generosity dictated I give him something in return.
The smaller plants, like the bean remnants and potato tops, we tore apart as best we could and worked into the soil as mulch. Brady had taught me that trick. Hopefully, it would pay dividends with next year’s crops.
I stopped my work for a moment, leaning on a shovel handle. The day was a glorious fall day. The skies were clear and so blue it almost hurt your eyes to stare at them. There was little wind, so the coolish fall air remained fresh and welcomed. If I had been anywhere else, at any other time, I might have enjoyed the weather. But another issue weighed heavy on my mind.
I wondered what it would cost me to have Mr. Hulton send people to bring Sasha back to me. Other than the previous cost we had discussed, there had to be another option, one I could somehow afford or endure.
Two years kept running through my cluttered mind. That’s what he would add to Walker’s contract to perform the task. I had no reason to believe the number was correct, but that’s what was set in my mind.
I didn’t bother to run that idea past Sunshine. Her opinion didn’t matter to me. Walker was my son, not her man. I still had the final say in all decisions, no matter how much she would whine and carry on over it.
Living without Walker for two more years, three if you counted what remained on his current sentence, would be bearable only if Sasha was back. In no other universe could I possibly consider such a plan. But my daughter’s return was there for the taking… if I was willing to pay the price.
The next day of rest made me nervous. We’d go and see Walker and perhaps run into Mr. Lasky. I wanted to hear the news on my terms, at my place. Thus, I hoped to avoid the man.
Walker was in good spirits and looked more rested when we saw him. We made small talk and enjoyed each other’s company as best we could. But with one eye always on alert, seeking out any sign of Mr. Lasky, it was hard for me to focus.
“You seem distracted, Ma. Everything okay?” Walker asked.
I gave him my best smile and rubbed his hands through the fence.
“Of course,” I replied, my false bravado hopefully convincing him otherwise. “I just have a few things on my mind. Winter will be here soon, and we need to haul some wood from the place down the road yet.”
“You heard back from Lask yet?” His question caught me off guard, and for a moment, I didn’t know how to respond.
“Soon,” I replied. “Any day now.”
He shrugged, seeming undisturbed. If he knew something was wrong, it wasn’t showing.
“We’ve heard a lot of crowing about bad harvests,” Walker continued, giving Sunshine a special smile. “Hulton’s on the warpath, Lask says. Sounds like he’s gonna cut a whole bunch of people off next year.” His eyes came back to mine, his smile as broad as ever. “But I bet you guys did just fine. He’d never cut you off. Not with me here.”
The security he felt he offered wasn’t real. I don’t think he understood that, but I did. Rickard Hulton was a business man. That meant everything came down to black and white numbers. But which one were we? Black or white?
A day later, I stood alone next to the garden. I had come here for some quiet time. Sunshine had been feeling better, and her constant chitchat cluttered my already full mind.
Once I knew the yield numbers, I could make my next move. While none of the options were especially thrilling to me, I wasn’t about to give up before my daughter and son were back. I’d make it—we’d make it—somehow.
Turning back toward the house, I spotted Sunshine approaching. For some reason, a large feeling of foreboding came over me.
She had either bad news or terrible news.
When she stopped, she took my hands in hers. “Lasky’s here, waiting for you on the back step,” she said in a solemn tone. “And he don’t look none too happy, I got to say.”
I nodded once. “When does Mr. Lasky ever look happy, Sunshine?” That made her smile a little.
I began to make my way back to the house but paused when I noticed I wasn’t being followed.
“Are you coming?” I asked.
She crossed her arms and faced away. “I’ll just wait here. Come and get me when he’s gone.”
I gave her a small wave and turned to face my destiny. It was going to be okay. No matter what, everything was going to be fine.
Chapter 60
I found the man sitting where Sunshine had told me he would be. And no, he didn’t appear happy.
Maybe our harvest hadn’t been so bad as he had predicted. The potential of eating crow perhaps made him bitter. Or maybe he had had a bad day. That was always a possibility. There were a million other things that could have caused Jeremy Lasky to appear upset. Only one of them was our poor harvest.
I gave him my best smile as I drew near and he looked up. “Good afternoon, Mr. Lasky,” I began. “How nice to see you—”
“Twenty-three,” he announced with little emotion.
For a second, my heart raced. We had not only met our quota but had exceeded it by three pounds. I couldn’t even begin to calculate the extra credits that meant.
“We produced forty-three pounds this year?” I cried, unable to contain myself. “How absolutely wonderful. What a blessing from—”
“You yielded twenty-three pounds of seed,” he dryly countered. “That’s only three pounds over what you got. Fifteen percent of what was expected of you.”
