by Kathy Miner
“How long has it been since either of you had an iced drink? It’s just water – the liquor’s long gone, and we’ve been so busy harnessing geo-thermal forces, we haven’t gotten around to building a still yet. A few folks have tried their hand at brewing beer, but the words ‘horse piss’ come to mind…”
Naomi hurried Piper to their rooms, shooing Hades inside and shutting the door behind them. Hades trotted over to his customary place by the fireplace, settling in with a groan. Naomi gazed at her girl in the sudden peaceful silence, then lifted her hand to touch Piper’s hair. Not quite real, yet, that her baby was here. She wanted to wrap around her and absorb her with all her senses. “You’re letting your hair grow again.”
Piper nodded, and touched Naomi’s braid in return. “So are you. I’ve never seen your hair so long.”
“Or so grey,” Naomi groused, though the complaint was nothing more than an echo from the past. If she was honest, she rather liked her mostly-silver braid. She reached for Piper’s backpack and rifle, taking both and urging her towards the couch. “Sit, and let me fuss. Are you hungry?”
“Mama, even if I wasn’t hungry, I’d want to eat. I dream of your cooking, and wake up all weepy.” Piper sank onto the sofa with a sigh, and looked around. “This sure is different from the cabin,” she said, and Naomi heard the longing in her voice. “It’s almost like before. Luxury living, at its finest.”
“It sounds ungrateful, but I miss home. I miss the familiarity of the cabin, the way your dad always felt so close there, Macy’s grave. I still feel like a hotel guest here – it just doesn’t feel like home yet. In time, I’m sure that will change.” Naomi went to the tiny kitchen and began pulling out food. “Still, the hot springs provide tremendous advantages, and the river is so close, for both fish and power. Alder has been in his glory, creating and installing alternative energy sources. We’ve got it so good I worry others will hear and try to take it for themselves.”
Piper looked up sharply. “The gang? Are they still a threat?”
“Yes and no.” Naomi carried plates out to the living area and set them on the coffee table, then sat down beside Piper. “We heard the old leaders – the ones who tried to take over after the explosion – got overthrown. Then we heard the over-throwers got overthrown, and so on. When you see Gracie, you tell her she ripped the guts right out of those rat bastards.” She held up a plate. “Want a cookie?”
Piper just stared at her for a moment. Then she shook her head and laughed, and tears shone in her eyes. “I missed you so much, Mom. Yes, I would kill or die for one of your cookies right now. So if the gang is dead, who are you worried about?”
“Well, that’s the ‘yes’ part. They’re not dead. They’ve just changed form. Mostly they’ve become nomadic, raiding up and down the front range. They’ve got at least one tank from Fort Carson, but last we heard, fuel was an issue. We’ve got watchers stationed between here and there, people who can communicate with a partner telepathically – that’s how we get our information.” She grinned. “And how weird does that sound?”
“Not nearly as weird as it would have sounded a couple years ago.” Piper spoke around a huge bite of cookie. “So, Grace was able to thwart the gang’s attack plans. I can’t wait to tell her.”
Naomi bent her head. “Well, about that.” She looked up. “They did attack. They didn’t have helicopters, but they managed to get their tank up the pass, and they brought plenty of soldiers as well. Everyone who stayed behind either scattered or was killed.” She knit her fingers together, squeezing hard. “Ignacio is gone. Andrea and Paul, too.”
Piper curled close, pressing into Naomi’s side and slipping her hand into the knot of her mother’s fingers. “I’m so sorry. He was a good man, and your friend. Did you lose any people on your way here, or last winter?”
“Judy, one of our older folks, died on the trail. I think it must have been a relief to her. She saw possible futures, and I think she spent all her time trying not to be terrified.” Naomi sighed deeply. “And Rowan had what we’re pretty sure was a stroke, just this past spring. We kept trying to get her to slow down, but she wouldn’t listen. She survived, but she needs round-the-clock care. Elise is with her now, and the twins help out a lot. Quinn had already been training under her, and you can’t believe how he has stepped up. It breaks my heart, how mature he has had to become. He should be a senior in high school this fall, not the father of a toddler and healer of his community.”
“Oh, Mama, you know better. If we start up with ‘shoulds,’ we’ll never stop.”
“I know.” Naomi attempted a watery smile, but failed. “To Hades’ great joy, Ares did not make the trip with us. I’m not sure if he was still alive or not. I never saw him after we got back from the Springs. But I like to imagine him there, undisputed king of all he surveys. I’ve been romancing a feral cat here, a lovely, sleek black lady I think I’ll call ‘Demeter,’ if I ever win her over.”
“Speaking of Greek goddesses, where’s Persephone?”
“She’s either with Rowan, or with Anne – depends on who needs her the most on any given day. Anne has really struggled with the transition. She misses Grace so much, and the library here just isn’t the one she left behind. Martin and I are both hoping she’ll take a more active role with our kids, but right now, she’s still channeling her queens a lot. I took Lark over there this morning for a new story book, and I think Anne Boleyn helped us find one. She definitely had a saucy gleam in her eye.”
They laughed together softly. Naomi was so grateful to Martin for this time with her girl, for the chance to just soak in her company without distraction or interruption. “Oh, I’ve been so excited to tell you – we’ve had four runners already this summer, all part of the Piper-net. First was a young woman named Lara from Pewaukee. She said she met you last summer, and that she and her mother just barely escaped a group of what she called slavers. Her brother was killed, and her sister was taken. Her mother insisted she make the trip – I take it she’s a pretty bossy soul – and she didn’t linger. She turned right around a few days later and hurried back to her mom.”
“We wondered what had happened to them. It’s not as bad as we thought, but it’s bad enough. Where were the others from?”
“A young man named Timothy all the way from Florida – he said he talked to you on the radio. And cousins from a little town in Iowa –”
“Michaela and Christopher! Is it them? Are they still here?” At Naomi’s nod, Piper clapped her hands like a little girl. “Oh, excellent, I’ll be so happy to see them! Jack will be so tickled to hear about them, too. I think I better start taking notes, so I remember everything when I get home.”
Home. Naomi had to turn her face away for a moment, so Piper wouldn’t see the dark cloud passing over it. Her daughter’s home was thousands of miles away now, in a world where that was a formidable distance indeed. Naomi made an impatient sound, irritated with herself. Dwelling on such thoughts helped her how? She pushed the dark away and turned back to her light. “Tell me about this island – is it really an island? Like in the middle of water?”
Piper laughed. “I know a young man who would have fun teasing you. Before I forget, though, I have to ask – did Loki make it back to you? I haven’t seen him since we were in Iowa.”
“And I haven’t seen him since the day you left Woodland Park. He sent me images in dreams, but I didn’t know what they were until long after the fact. I wish I’d been quicker on the uptake, there.” She was quiet for a moment, and this time, her smile was more determined than watery. “I’m going to imagine him back at the cabin, watching sunsets and irritating the dickens out of Ares by disrupting his hunts. Now. About this island…”
She settled in and just listened to her daughter talk, just watched her familiar gestures, more content than she could ever recall being. Piper had almost brought her tale up to the present day when Martin and the boys returned. Martin walked over to her and leaned to kiss her lightly.
> “There’s a big old party gearing up out there to celebrate Piper’s homecoming. You up for that?”
Naomi made a face, but nodded. “I guess, if I have to share her.” She peered around him at Adam and Tyler. “Did Martin get you settled in a room? Good.” She rose, and bustled them towards cushy chairs. “Now sit down here and let me get you something to eat. Cookies, anyone?”
Through the long, festive evening, and through the too-short days that followed, she and Piper were rarely parted. They chased Lark along the river walk and visited Anne in the library. They sat beside Rowan’s bed, filling her in on the happenings around town. They went with Quinn to check on the new baby and her young mother, bringing food and tiny clothes with them. They spoke of Brody and Verity, of journeys and paths. Through it all, people continued to bring their problems to Naomi, looking for advice or resolution. One afternoon, after she’d settled a dispute over a bicycle tire repair kit, Naomi looked up to find Piper watching her, a strange expression on her face.
“You’re the leader here. Not Martin, or anyone else. These people look to you.”
Naomi shrugged, pleased that Piper had noticed, but strangely embarrassed as well. “I suppose I am. It’s not leadership, really. It’s more like common sense. People just need help thinking it through. For example, we’ve got enough clothes to last us a lifetime if we salvage what was left behind. What we need is food and medicine, and that means gardening, fishing and hunting. So why are people wasting their time knitting socks, when they should be weeding the beans?”
Piper laughed and pushed at Naomi’s shoulder playfully. “You used to knit us socks – you made all of us a pair every Christmas. We used to call them the Weasley socks, you know, like Mrs. Weasley and her sweaters in Harry Potter.”
Naomi smiled. “I remember, both the socks and the nickname. And I don’t knit them anymore. I’m too busy making herbal tinctures. Just don’t burst my bubble and tell me you hated them, okay? Leave me that much.”
“You got it.” Then, Piper sobered. She caught Naomi’s hand as they walked along, lacing their fingers together and making Naomi’s heart clutch. Piper had started refusing to hold her mother’s hand when she was eight years old. The easy affection between them these days meant the world to her. “I’m proud of you, Mom. Really proud. I wasn’t always respectful to you while I was growing up, and I didn’t value you, not like I should have. Not like I do now. Then, I wanted to be your opposite in everything. Now, I’m proud to say I’m your daughter.” She grinned at her mom, flickers of Macy and of Scott in her sly smile, and swung their hands. “Although that Suzy Homemaker gene seems to have passed me right on by.”
Naomi laughed, and in her chest, the curled, dormant bud of potential she’d been through all her sheltered years broke free, stretching in the sun of Piper’s regard. The energy of it moved down her spine and spread through her limbs like springtime sap, but it wasn’t a thing of youth. It was maturity and survival, loss and growth. It was gratitude in the face of change she hadn’t chosen.
In a few weeks, Piper would be gone, with no assurance they’d ever see each other again. Naomi didn’t know when she and the boys planned to leave for the return trip, and she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to count down days or start labeling “lasts.” Last meal. Last hug. Last kiss.
So she looked over at Piper and memorized this moment, the perfection of it. The late afternoon sunlight on her daughter’s golden, softly curling hair. The wind, pushing high clouds across a bright blue sky. The scents of high mountain pine and shy wildlife, filtered to her through Hades’ senses. The soothing mutter of water tumbling over rocks in the river below. It was just a moment, like any other on a summer afternoon, sweet and transient. Not a guarantee in sight. Just life, and the living of it.
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About the Author
First, thank you so much for reading my work! If you are so inclined, please leave a review at the retailer of your , or Goodreads, or both!
I live in Colorado with my family and my critters, and I welcome comments, questions and conversation about my books. You can contact me via email at [email protected], visit my website at www.authorkathyminer.com, or you can frequently find me on Facebook at Kathy Miner Books, where I share information on my latest projects, relevant information and/or articles, as well as images I think folks will enjoy. Finally, you can sign up for my spam-free-never-sold-opt-out-whenever-you-want monthly newsletter to receive inside information on my latest writing projects, articles of interest, and vignettes featuring the characters I just can’t stop writing about.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, locales and events are fictitious or are used fictitiously, and are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
As with all works of the imagination, any exaggerations, inaccuracies, inconsistencies or outright errors are the fault of the author.
Copyright © 2016 by Kathy Miner
All rights reserved.
Printed in the United States of America.
Cover Art:
© Ben Heys | Dreamstime.com
File ID: 15272339
License: Royalty Free
ISBN: 978-0-9994999-2-4
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
This book is available in print at most retailers.
Gratitude and Acknowledgments
As always, I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to my friends and beta readers: Candice Moriarty, Laura Martin, Cheryl Rose, Tammy Themel, and Annette Milligan. Thank you, truly, for your friendship and your input. Kim Bender and Nan Anders, my “in-loves,” thank you both for your ongoing support, edits, and love. And Ray Hjelt, money could not buy what you have gifted me with: professional-level edits delivered with the love and investment of someone who has known me all my life. (I really wanted to use a dash instead of a colon there, but I forced myself to behave.) Blessings on you all.
Kate Crosby, you came through with Cass’ name just when I needed it most, and Leona Nolan-Mayo, you were there with information on arrows just minutes after I asked – thank you both. David Perry, you’re the BEST when it comes to inspiration; your encouragement got me going and kept me going. I owe you a beer, my friend. Carol Browne, I very literally couldn’t have written the sections on sailing without your advice and corrections, and I am so grateful. Dorman Gray, you are The Man, always there with information when I need it, always willing to share your intelligence and expertise. I appreciate your input, your world view, and especially your friendship. And Jesse Reynolds, my love my honey my sweet, you came through so many times, with gamer language and Game of Thrones references, and with the Grindylow for the win. Thank you, son o’ mine.
Max and Phyl Miner, if there is anything admirable in any of these characters, it began with you two. You gave me the strongest of women and the most honorable of men to model from. Thank you for your brilliant edits as well as for your never-ending support.
Kristy, I have no words, and it’s not because I spent them all in this book – we both know I have an endless supply! Ha! What I don’t have are words lyrical enough to thank you, to express how much joy your involvement in all of my books gives me. You make me better in every way.
And finally, I want to thank my Rob, my Casey and my Kaya. I had to use all the juggling and balancing skills I possess to get this book done, and my family suffered for it. From the outside looking in, writing seems like a glamorous and exciting profession. Those on the inside know it’s countless hours of staring at the back of someone’s head, someone who is there but really not there, and hearing “Just a minute, honey…” over and over again. I’m sorry, my loves, for the toll this one took on everyone…b
ut kind of thrilled, too. Half of this book was written in a busy Autism treatment center, the other half in the eye of a hurricane. There was much gnashing of teeth. There were many hysterical tears. Does this mean I finally, FINALLY qualify as a suffering artist? After a ridiculously blessed life, it is ABOUT TIME. Hey, that gives me an idea for a story…
