With the way Jason worked he would likely have this done in less than a week. I got back to digging, hoping to get the soil ready for the beet and pumpkin seeds I had pre-germinating in the house.
*
There was a stiff, cool breeze coming in from Lake Meade, making it too cool to continue working in the garden. As necessary as the garden is, I was confident a day or two wait wouldn’t affect the growing season. I decided to pay a visit to Ken and Karen.
“How is he doing?” I asked Karen when she answered the door. They were still in the house just down the road from Jason and Eric. For some reason that surprised me and I said so.
“We’ve discussed moving into town after Ken has healed and is back to work,” she said. “We have loved being here and part of your family, Allex, though I must admit it’s not the same without you here. Being in town will make it easier on both of us and on the gas situation. And before you say anything, yes we are getting whatever diesel we need. However, if we don’t need it, it can go toward feeding the generator, which is more important to the community as a whole. Besides, I’m looking forward to riding one of those bikes,” she added with a grin.
“Have you selected a house yet?” I asked.
“We loved living on the lake, and I suppose we could move back into our old house. I think that’s still too far, so I’d like something on the lake but right in town like maybe the old Johnstone place. I know it’s still vacant,” Karen said. I could hear the question in her voice, asking for permission.
“That would be a good position for the two of you. I’ll mark it off of the available housing and save it. So, how is Ken doing?”
“Well, it’s been less than a week and recovery is slow. Doctor James thinks he’s progressing well, however, Ken is stubborn and wants to be all healed yesterday.”
We walked into the room where Ken was sitting in bed, reading.
“Allex, good to see you,” he said. “Have you come to spring me from this boring life?”
“Nope! Only Jim can do that once Doctor James says he can. So just get used to it.”
*
I stopped at the township offices on my way home to talk with Tom about the housing situation. When I stepped out of my car I was met with a blast of icy air and snowflakes.
“What happened to our nice weather?” I remarked, shivering.
“Have you been watching the sky, Allex?”
“Yes, and I’ve noticed how dark the clouds are getting again.” I frowned, thinking of my new garden. “Has there been any word on the ham radio about the situation?”
The ash cloud produced by the Yellowstone eruption last July was now circling the world, bringing with it an ever diminishing level of sunlight.
“This morning one of our contacts down in Lansing said there were more eruptions in Yellowstone over the past few days. They weren’t nearly as bad as the first ones, but it just keeps adding to the ash in the upper atmosphere. Whether that prolongs the cover or just makes it denser is pure conjecture at this point,” he replied. “Allex, I’d like your take on something.”
“What?”
“I’d like to move the ham setup here to the offices where we can monitor all day,” Tom said. “Joshua and Emilee have done a great job so far, especially making the initial contacts. However, they can’t listen to it all day and still get chores done. I’ve noticed that the time stamps Joshua puts on all the communications are toward the evening. And Emilee has to be in school during the day.”
It didn’t take me long to think this over. “I wouldn’t move the radio, Tom. Everyone needs to feel like part of the community and that they are contributing somehow. This is the only way Joshua does that. He’s very much a loner and I’m afraid he will withdraw even more without this. And it would devastate Emi. She’s growing and maturing rapidly. The radio is her window to the outside world.”
“I’d still like to figure a way of moving it, Allex,” Tom insisted. “It would also help to reduce the gas consumption. Which is something we need to have a meeting about: rationing.”
“Let me talk to Joshua first, please, and I think I know a way to soften Emilee’s disappointment.”
“I certainly don’t want her to be hurt, Allex, those pre-teen years are tough enough. What did you have in mind?”
“What if we made the radio part of her school curriculum?” I suggested. “Eric can bring her in early and she can have an hour on the radio; then again after school until someone can take her home.”
“The school is close enough we could make an hour midday part of her classes and she can bike over here,” Tom said enthusiastically. “So far she’s really one of the best observers.”
“I think that’s from being young enough that adults still see those her age as invisible and talk freely around them. Those youngsters pick up a great deal of info that way,” I said.
*
I explained the situation to Joshua as gently as I could.
“Well, Ms. Allexa, that really does make sense,” he said, looking down at his folded hands on the table. “I’m really going to miss my new friends, though it would give me more time for all the chores I have to do.” His disappointment was so thick it could be cut with a knife and it hurt me to see it.
“Joshua, I have an idea,” I said. “What if you take Emilee to school in the morning and take that hour on the radio? You can monitor and talk to your friends and still have that extra free time for chores.”
“I think that is a very workable compromise, Ms. Allexa,” he said happily.
*
After explaining our new solution to Tom, I set out for the Mathers Lake Compound to talk with Art about Adam dismantling the radio setup and moving it to the township hall.
With our new and mutual working relationship with Art’s group, the gate was now always unlocked, though it was often still manned.
“Good afternoon, Allexa,” Pete said as he swung the gate open for me and waved me through.
“Hi, Pete, is Art on the premises?”
“Yes, ma’am. He should be at the big house.”
*
“I’ll have Adam meet with Joshua tomorrow around noon, if that’s soon enough?” Art said after I explained the situation to him. “I’m pleased you came up with a solution that allows those two to still have radio contact. They are both very good with it and I’ve noticed that Joshua is by far less shy when he’s broadcasting. And Miss Emilee, well, she’s the personality that never ends,” he chuckled.
I picked up my cup of mint tea and took a sip. “How is the leg doing, Art?” I asked, remembering how he broke his leg and arm when a tree fell on him.
“Better than the arm,” he replied. “I think the type of breaks involved have something to do with that. I just need to be more patient.”
“Are you doing your physical therapy exercises that Mark recommended?”
“Yes, I am,” he said. “Claire makes sure of it.” He hesitated. “How are you doing, Allex?”
“You mean about Mark’s death?” I asked, though I had no doubt that was what was on his mind. “I’m doing okay, really. He’s been gone longer than we were together, you know. I will always cherish the time we had, but I can’t and won’t stop living. I think the road trip did me a great deal of good in healing, in spite of some of the trauma and mishaps we endured. It was very therapeutic.”
We talked for a bit longer and then I stood to leave. “Oh, I almost forgot. Tom wants a meeting of the council to discuss rationing, and now that includes you.”
“I still think Doctor James should have replaced Mark on the council,” Art protested.
“James is a good doctor, Art, but he doesn’t have the wisdom Mark had, and you do. You were the logical replacement. The meeting will be in the council chambers on June first at noon.”
May 30
I heard the rumbling of an engine as someone pulled into the driveway while I was working in the garden and cautiously ventured out to see who it was.
&
nbsp; “Good afternoon, Keith! What can I do for you?” I asked.
“I’m trying to do something for you, Allex,” Keith Kay said. “Carron and I went out to the fishing hole this morning and caught a couple of lake trout. They all came in about twenty pounds, big ones for the hole! We thought you might like to have one.” He held out a paper wrapped package. “We’re keeping one for ourselves, and this one is for our township officials.”
I took the package from him. “This is wonderful, Keith, thank you so much! We’ll have it for dinner tonight.” I looked at my longtime friend and wood supplier. “How are you and Carron holding up? It’s been a rough year.”
“Now that’s an understatement,” he chuckled. “We’re doing well, better than most, in fact. That greenhouse I built five years ago for starting plants has been a true lifesaver. Carron spends hours on the gardening and canning so we don’t go hungry.” He hesitated before saying anything further, but I could tell he wanted to.
“I can tell there’s something else on your mind, Keith,” I said.
“I just wanted to thank you for allowing me to supply the town’s wood, Allex. I would have died from boredom if I didn’t have this to do,” he said awkwardly, and then he backed the big truck around, and dumped a load of wood for our fireplace.
*
The fish was already gutted, though I still needed to filet it. I ran cold water in the kitchen sink and washed the large fish again. One filet would easily feed the three of us, so I decided to make gravlax with the other half. I cut the meat off the boney carcass and then carefully felt for any lingering small bones on both filets. I skinned the piece I was going to make into that wonderful cured treat.
Gravlax was really very simple to make by taking equal parts of pepper, salt, and sugar, blending it well, and then applying a thick coating to the raw fish. For the next step I would need dill, lots of dill, so I need to make a trip to my/Eric’s greenhouse later. I put the seasoned fish into a plastic bag and set it to chill. Once I could pack the dill onto it, it would chill for three to four days while the seasonings cured the raw meat. I seasoned the other filet with a small amount of salt and pepper, and placed it skin side up on a plate until dinner. Fresh fish would be a wonderful treat for us, and I decided to pick some ramp greens to go with it.
I packed all the bones and skin into a sealable container and headed over to my old house… Eric’s house… I didn’t know what to call it now. It was still my house and I guess I will always think of it as that.
*
I let myself into the greenhouse to pick herbs.
“Oh, you startled me, Allexa,” Rayn said, pocketing her gun. I would have to remember to announce my presence in the future!
“I’m sorry, dear. There’s no way to let you know in advance that I might be stopping over,” I apologized. “I’ve just come for some of my herbs.” I finished clipping the lacy fernlike leaves off of several dill plants in the herb bed and then pinched some fresh basil for another dish. When I reached for one of the ripe tomatoes, Rayn winced.
“I was hoping to have those with dinner,” she pouted.
“Okay, I’ll take two of the less ripe ones and have them later,” I capitulated. “Rayn, I want you to know how much I appreciate you and Eric taking care of my greenhouse.” I picked a single green bean and took a bite. “I spent many hours in here, planting and weeding, and I miss it.”
I hoped that was a subtle enough reminder to her that this was still my greenhouse and that I had every right to harvest what I wanted.
Rayn remained silent.
“Oh, and I brought some fish bones to pressure cook for Chivas and Tufts.” I handed her the sealed container.
“Smells are making me sick lately,” she said, handing it back.
“I’m sorry to hear that, though it’s not uncommon during the early stages of pregnancy,” I said. “Tell you what, I can either cook these here, outside, or I can take my pressure cooker with me and just bring back the pet food later.”
Eric peeked around the door leading into the house. “Hi, Mom!”
“Hi. Would you do me a favor and help me carry a few things to my car? I would like to take a few of my canned goods back with me,” I said, stepping around Rayn and into the pantry room. I took a jar of pickled sausage and two of the pickled beets. Eric looked at the beets and then over at Rayn. “Are you craving the beets, Rayn?” I asked.
“Yes, she is,” Eric answered for her.
“Then I will take only these two jars. It’s a good thing we can grow more!” I reassured them. Why was I feeling guilty about taking my own food??? “And do you have a dozen or two eggs I can have?”
“That we have plenty of,” Rayn nodded. Eric set everything I selected into the cooler in the back of my car.
“I think we should talk,” I said to the two of them, so we sat at the picnic table under the spreading maple trees. “I can understand how attached you are getting to the house and the gardens. After living here for the last couple of months it probably feels like it’s yours, right?” Poor Rayn, she looked sullen and tearful when she nodded. “That’s good, and don’t worry, I’m not going to kick you out,” I laughed. “Please remember though, that just because I was gone for six weeks that didn’t mean I wasn’t coming back. I did not give you all of my stuff. If things would have turned out differently, I would have moved back here. I do want you to treat what is here how I would, and that means it gets shared with family.” Eric understood, however his new wife, with her mixed up pregnant hormones was having trouble. “Rayn, I worked years stockpiling what’s here; growing and canning all this food, by myself. I’m entitled to take back what I want. I would never take food from you if you needed it. Please remember, I need it too, that’s why I did all this.”
*
When I got back home, I packed the dill on the salmon and set the jars on the counter. I needed some quiet time. The trip to Eric’s had left me feeling like a bully and a thief.
CHAPTER 29
June 1
A cold rain splattered on the windshield of the Hummer as Jim and I pulled into the parking lot of the township office. I had wanted to ride my bike down, however, Jim nixed that idea at the first sprinkle.
“I will not be responsible for you coming down with pneumonia!” he said emphatically. I made a face at him, then saluted, which earned me a chuckle and a hug.
We dashed through the rain and made it under the protective overhang just as the sky opened up. Everyone else was already inside enjoying a hot cup of coffee. Tom sat at the head of the scarred rectangular wooden table, with Father Constantine on his right and Art Collins on his left. I poured myself a coffee and sat next to the priest. I gave an involuntary shiver as a drip of cold rain fell from my hair down the back of my neck.
“Now that we’re all here, we can get started,” Tom said. These were always informal meetings and no minutes were kept. Tom kept a pad of paper beside him to keep track of our final decisions. “In the seven plus months we’ve been here in Moose Creek, we’ve used almost one-third of the diesel fuel, one-fourth of the gasoline, and one-third of the propane. While that sounds good by some standards, it also means we will run out a year from now. Any suggestions?”
“Obviously we need to start conserving these limited resources,” Father Constantine said, making a steeple with his fingers. “The Sisters and I keep the heat set at fifty-five. I think we should make that mandatory for anyone on propane: fifty-five or less.” Tom jotted that down.
“Our biggest usage seems to be diesel. Is that from the generator use?” I asked.
“Most of it is. There are a few diesel vehicles, like the Passat and the Humvee, though they aren’t used as much as one would think – your road trip aside. There’s also the wood splitting,” Tom said.
“How long does the generator run every day?” Jim asked.
“Ten hours or more a day,” Tom said. “It’s been difficult to do less when the teachers need to do laundry after classes, and
for the men working in the woods to get showers when they’re done.”
“If we cut the generator time to five hours, which five would be the most efficient?” I asked the four men sitting around the table with me. “Five hours would cut the use in half, effectively doubling our remaining time.”
“We would want to have power for the school,” Father Constantine reminded us.
“Yes, although they really don’t need lights during the middle of the day. Even with the increased cloud cover, there’s still enough light to see by,” Art chimed in. “In the compound we lined the school desks up next to the windows to take full advantage of any sun. It’s an option.”
“That’s a good suggestion,” Tom said, writing it down.
“If the generator ran from one o’clock to six o’clock every day, I think people would get used to the schedule and work around it. It would force them to be more organized about their daily chores, too, plus one to six would cover the off-school hours the teachers need to do whatever they need to,” I said. “I know that when I ran the gennie at home, it was only for an hour or two. I would shower, do dishes, and wash clothes. I filled buckets for flushing and for filtering, and would use the electric grinder for making flour. I would turn it off, and then make bread, and hang the wet clothes to air dry. The more things that are done needing power while the generator is on makes that time more efficient. It’s wasteful to do something not requiring power when the gennie is running.”
“There are going to be those who don’t get everything done. What do we do then? Extend the hours?” Tom asked.
The Journal: Raging Tide: (The Journal Book 4) Page 23
