by Casey Lane
“Them?”
“Yes, Kim’s a single parent of a child.”
I wanted children on the farm about as much as I wanted Rod to stay, but the pros of a nurse far outweighed the cons. I handed over the Dodge truck keys to Gary.
“Knock yourself out,” I said with a somewhat sadistic smile as Gary visibly cringed at the thought of driving my truck. “Hey Doc, maybe next time you’ll remember to close the door when you run off to save the day.” I wasn’t above dangling my own bait to guilt him into keeping his word. “I was almost killed by that stinker.”
I graciously accepted Gary’s stricken apology at this revelation. “Can you give me a list of medical supplies for your clinic that we can get on our supply run today?”
Gary looked down at his feet in concentrated thought, and then glanced up with a decisive air. “I know of a medical supply company in Apple Valley. It’ll be easier if Kim and I stop there on the way back here.” He lifted one shoulder. “Otherwise, grab everything off the shelves in the drug aisle. It will all be useful.”
I stared after the Dodge when he drove off, my instincts on alert at something I’d seen in Gary’s resolute expression, but I shrugged it off. Either he kept his word or he didn’t. Not much more I could do about it but hope he’d get back in one piece. I couldn’t spare anybody to ride with him and King Farm wasn’t a prison.
It was tricky avoiding eye contact with Rod when he threw me the keys to the SUV, but I managed. Of course he sat shotgun, but I spoke to the rear view mirror while I played tour guide. Even a man as accomplished in the arts of seduction as Rod would fail if I refused to give face time to his killer grin and bedroom eyes.
I drove them quickly through the farmyard, pointing out the buildings and their functions. Barbara was leaning up between the front seats, taking everything in with wide eyes and a zillion questions about the animals. She was beside herself when I mentioned the miniature pony, fainting goats, and a recent litter of piglets. I think Babs’ future job on the farm was established.
At the end of the farmyard road, before it looped to the left, was a gate that opened to a short lane to Salty’s old stone house. His front garden was ablaze with fall flowers.
At the sight, Barbara cried out, “Oh my God, what a darling house!”
Situated on the edge of the woods and a small, pristine lake that was the backdrop of the grounds of King House, the stone house was straight out of Hansel and Gretel.
To the west of Salty’s house and the farmyard, were several acres of organic fruit orchards and kitchen gardens. I’d been growing food and preserving for enough years that we were pretty self-sustainable at this point. The excess of the kitchen gardens and orchard that we didn’t consume at King House, I divided between canning for the future and selling at local farmers markets and co-operatives under the label of “Acadia Blooms”. Encouraging Barbara’s chatter, I swung the SUV left and we drove down the road that led into the open pastures. The road then curved to follow the front side of many of the outbuildings we had just passed behind.
I stopped in front of the Red Rose Barn and the abutting Silo, both built out of the same quartzite block as King House. With its professional catering kitchen, open banquet hall, dance floor, and upraised stage, Red Rose Barn seated two hundred for dinner. It would now be a perfect mess hall and meeting place for everybody on the farm to congregate, but there was a hollow pit in my stomach realizing the businesses I worked so hard for many years to establish didn’t matter anymore.
The Silo next to the big barn had been converted inside to become a luxuriously unique getaway often rented by newlyweds for the night of their receptions. One of the things I dreaded most about all the people coming to the farm to live was the anticipated lack of privacy in the big house. When Law was alive, I had enjoyed being off on my own quite a bit, but I’d become even more solitary over the last two years. I was saving The Silo as my own future living quarters to get a few hours of complete privacy a day.
The grounds in front of the Red Rose Barn and The Silo were landscaped in wide flagstone paths that rambled through gardens of sculptures, ornamental trees, fountains, flowers, and shrubs that all led eventually to an ornate white pavilion in the center.
Barbara was struck silent for a moment as her head swiveled, and then she gasped out, “Wow, Acadia, this is incredible!”
Ray Dean leaned forward behind me and whistled. “It sure is!”
I stuck a finger in my ear and wiggled it while saying, “Yeah, we get a lot of wedding parties here.”
“Well, it’s real pretty.” A giant hand came over the front seat and he pointed to an open sided shed. “That looks like one of them little buses they have at Disneyworld.”
“It is.” As I drove away from the barn, I laid it on thick for Rod’s benefit. “But I’m sure you guys don’t want to hear the story of how I got the bus because it’s to-die-for romantic.”
On cue, Barbara squealed, “I do, I do! Tell us!”
“Okay then, if you’re sure,” I replied reluctantly, slowly driving down the pasture road past the Red Rose Barn gardens. “Some women get diamonds or a new sports car for their fortieth birthday, but Lawson knew that wasn’t me.” I laughed wickedly. “Instead, he blindfolded me and took me for a ride down the paths until we reached the lake.” I closed my eyes briefly and said in a whisper, “He took the blindfold off, and at first, all I saw was a table set for two next to the water. There were flickering candles, flowers, and crystal flutes of chilled champagne.” Out of my peripheral vision, I could see Rod was looking out his window, but Ray Dean and T-bone were both sitting forward now. I went on dreamily, “Oh man, the lobster was so sweet and delicious. Mmm, Law remembered all my favorites down to the chocolates.” I smiled over my shoulder at Barbara, who was hanging on my every word. “I can still smell the scent of those of lush, fragrant flowers on the summer’s breeze.”
Ray Dean snorted loudly. “Huh, I bet you smelled a hell of a lot more than just those flowers.” He waved a hand under his nose. “Them lobsters can stink up a place faster than T-bone here after hoggin’ down a bowl of Brussels sprouts.”
T-bone snarled a protest, but Barbara headed him off by smacking Ray Dean in the back of the head. “Be quiet, you!” She turned back to me and said eagerly, “Go on, what did your husband do then?”
I didn’t acknowledge Rod’s chuckle at Ray Dean’s comments by even a blink. “Thinking the romantic dinner was my gift, I rushed into my husband’s arms, but Law only laughed and spun me around. That’s when I saw my real present. It was tied in a giant ribbon.” I sighed again, sincerely recalling how wonderfully magical that night had been. “Ray Dean, that little Disney bus is called an Electro Transit Buddy and it holds up to fifteen passengers. It runs off two 48 volt battery packs and can last up to fifty miles per charge. Law knew how impatient I could be about,” I laughed a little sheepishly, “well, just about everything. He thoughtfully bought me two chargers, so I’d never have to wait. My perfect birthday present can travel at speeds up to thirty-five miles per hour.”
“I don’t get why it’s so perfect,” Ray Dean responded, perplexed. “Hey, nothin’ against your dead hubby and all, may he rest in peace,” he made a convoluted sign on his chest, “but why would you be needin’ to drive somethin’ that carries fifteen people? You don’t even have no rug rats. And it only goes a puny thirty-five? Sheeit, my truck can do over a buck twenty faster than you can say,” Ray Dean paused before leering suggestively, “mustn’t-touch-it!”
My headrest shook as Ray Dean held on with both hands while he and T-bone laughed uproariously and Barbara repeatedly demanded to know what was so funny. I held onto the steering wheel tightly with both hands. It was either that, or take off my boot and start whaling on the whole back seat with the steel-toed end.
Rod’s chuckles were no longer soft, but rich and loud and long.
I stomped on the gas, but didn’t get far before Ray Dean leaned forward again. Still chuckling,
he pointed past Rod’s face. “Hey, what are all them roofs I see over there past the flowers?”
“None of your damn business, you damned buffoon,” I ground out; not taking my eyes off the road to explain that was Pioneer Village, or pointing out the original King log cabin from 1862, or telling them anything about any of the other couple of dozen historical buildings and homes that generations of the King family had purchased and transported to King Farm over the last hundred years, or showing them the grounds where the Fall Festival took place. “Tour time is over.”
Rod’s crack of laughter almost drowned out Ray Dean’s shocked, plaintive cry, “Sheeit, what did I do? I just asked about some roofs. Hey, T-bone, why is Acadia here cursin’ and callin’ me names?”
“Why you askin’ me what Acadia is thinking? Do I look like I’m her fuckin’ BFF that I understand why a woman like that does what she does? Hmm, Ray Dean, do I?” T-bone slapped his John Deere cap over his braids, shoved on his dark shades, and looked out his window while muttering vague imprecations about cracker asses ruining his tour time.
Rod was still smiling when I snapped on the radio and turned up the volume to drown out Ray Dean’s forlorn bleatings to Barbara to explain why their tour time was over.
In seconds, we were all riveted to the disturbing news reports.
The local top officials were demanding the Governor call in the Calvary to help contain the outbreaks that were growing progressively larger and more out of control all over Edina, Minneapolis, and St Paul. It was reported that around the hospitals, masses of violent infected people were on the loose in the streets.
If that wasn’t bad enough, outbreaks of the virus were being reported in Fort Lauderdale, Miami, and New York City, too. I realized the first two were the cruise ship ports from Haiti, but NYC?
I whipped out my phone. “Hey, Ian. Remember that list of layover cities I asked you to note on flights from Port Au Prince to Minneapolis? Was New York City one of them?” I put aside my vow and turned in my seat to look at Rod while I listened to Ian. “Okay, thanks.”
Rod reached over and turned down the volume. “Was it?”
“Yes, a Delta plane stopped in New York before arriving here at 8:45 PM that night. The couple of other flights from Haiti arrived much earlier that day.” As I spoke, Rod frowned. “Why? Do you think that means the virus originated in Haiti?”
“We can’t know that,” Rod replied thoughtfully, “but based on the timing of how long it took Karen to turn and when that group turned in the hotel bar, it probably means it’s where those people got infected.”
Barbara asked anxiously, “Should we tell somebody?”
Rod and I were still staring at each other, but I think we were both imagining how it would go down if we told somebody in a position of power what we believed.
I answered slowly, “That is the 64,000 dollar question, isn’t it?”
Rod’s voice was reflective. “What if it would help with a vaccine or a cure?”
I replied, “The government probably already knows this, but if they don’t…”
Rod ran a finger over his lip. “…we have to assume our call could be traced…”
“…and they’d think we are terrorists that know something and they would send a goon squad here to round us up for questioning,” I finished, and nodded in agreement.
Rod raised his dark brows. “The 64,000 dollar question and the goon squad, Acadia? Are you dating yourself again, like with that Lavern and Shirley crack?”
“Goon squad, men in black, torture team--call them what you will, but if they send anybody out sniffing around here to find us, our ass is grass.” He opened his mouth and I waved him off, “Oh, shut up, all right? I’m older than you and hang out with old people, so what of it!”
He smiled broadly and patted my thigh. “Now there’s the big sister I know and…”
Barbara broke in with a squeak, “I vote we don’t tell.”
“Me too,” Ray Dean hurriedly agreed.
Rod turned and asked, “T-bone?”
T-bone crossed his arms and eloquently answered, “Fuck the Man.”
Rod smiled while he squeezed my upper thigh. “Mary-Acadia?”
My mouth twisted as I removed his hand like I was being forced to handle a cockroach. “Yeah, fuck men.”
Barbara burst out laughing while Ray Dean sat up and exclaimed, “See! There she goes again, being mean for no good reason!”
I was never so happy to reach my destination. Pulling the SUV off the side of the road near Bobby’s truck, the three in the back seat exited into the sunshine while still bickering over the difference between being blunt and being mean. I wasn’t quick enough and Rod stayed me with a hand on my arm, a serious expression of concern on his face.
“What’s wrong, Acadia? I thought we were friends?”
I shook off his hand. “Gee, Football, why do I hear that sentence not ending on the word friends, as if what you’re really saying is friends with benefits?”
Rod stroked his bottom lip. “Mmm, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because you’re an optimistic, dirty-minded woman who wants to fuck me again?”
While I unsnapped my seat belt, threw open my door, and jumped down, Rod’s low voice tormented me, “I’m stumped then, Boudicca. Should I have said, ‘I don’t know, Monty Hall, but I’ll trade my John Deere hat for a look behind door number three for the answer?’ His voice was alight with suppressed laughter when he called out across the seat after me, “Would my talking lingo from that decade make it easier for you to admit you want to be friends with benefits?”
I was never so happy to slam a truck door shut.
Chapter Fourteen
“Hence that general is skilful in attack whose opponent does not know what to defend; and he is skilful in defense whose opponent does not know what to attack.” -Sun Tzu
Bobby and Ian waved. They were driving the bulldozer south along the grass line at the edge of the fields. After I could see straight again, the first thing I noticed were the stacks of Jersey barriers the guys had stolen last night from a construction site down the highway. Near the woods on our side of the fence, the cement barriers were concealed from casual sight for our use later today.
“Nice ride!” Kevin called out, coming up from the side of the road on the highway where he and Hugh were already working. Hugh had been operating the front-end loader tractor like a pro and was just finishing moving a pile of rocks and soil onto the turn off lane. He turned the tractor off and hopped down when he saw us arrive. “Is the Cadillac yours, Rod?”
“Nope,” Rod answered cheerfully, exaggeratingly closing his door quietly with a reproving shake of his head at me for slamming doors. “Acadia was on a roll last night. ‘Borrowing’ the shuttle bus from the hotel wasn’t enough; she made us jack this baby, too.” He added with a sigh of pity, “This was after she ruined her own truck because someone crapped in their pants all over the backseat.”
“What?” Kevin and Hugh exclaimed in disbelief and looked at me. They were grinning already because there’s nothing that makes men laugh harder than talking about feces, in any form.
I managed to not respond to Rod’s blatant misrepresentation of the facts only by taking Barbara’s arm and walking away. Not lying down on the side of the road and kicking my feet while I laughed until I sobbed was much harder. I’ve never experienced the desire to cry in frustration and belly laugh at the same time. It was a terrible feeling. It was even more terrible how being around Rod caused such mixed emotions inside me. I almost regretted learning I wasn’t comfortable having casual, no-strings sex. It didn’t matter, though, because I absolutely could not afford to be this distracted by a man on a constant basis.
Rod passed around the extra shovels to T-bone and Ray Dean while he regaled the men with our exploits from last night. As they all got to work spreading the large pile of dirt and rocks over the northbound turnoff lane onto 180th Street, Babs and I went to inspect the changes being done to disguise
the road.
We could still hear their delighted guffaws when Rod got to the part of the “bomb dumper” Santa zombie.
Barbara giggled at the story, but followed me onto the edge of Hwy 52 where I turned back to face 180th Street while I scanned the area.
As the brothers eagerly threw out ideas of what vehicles they’d boost when they got a chance, I silently apologized to their mother. A few hours into the apocalypse and they were already thinking like a gang of little thugs.
Barbara looked where I did, but then she shrugged. “I don’t get it. What have they done?”
A shallow ditch edged the shoulder of Hwy 52 all along my property line. Once past the ditch, there was a wide grassy strip, a six-foot chain link fence, and a thickly overgrown windbreak of woods about fifty feet deep.
I pointed out to Barbara that, other than the entrance road of 180th Street itself, the fence and woods was all that currently prevented access from the highway to the acres of open, plowed fields of King Farm.
No border could ever be completely impenetrable because where there’s a will there’s a way, but in the three other directions, my property lines were much less vulnerable based on their topography alone. The northern border was primarily a limestone bluff overlooking railroad tracks, the eastern and southern borders were deep ravines above the Vermillion River.
My attention was caught by the men’s conversation again. I overheard T-bone say, “Huh. Sounds like a lot of heavy duty training is gonna be happenin’ around here.”
Rod replied, “Yeah, there’s definitely work to be done, but defending ourselves by forming a tribe like Acadia’s planning is a smart move for a helluva lot of reasons.”
“A tribe, hmm? I like that,” T-bone snickered, as his shovel noisily scraped up a load of rocks. “So Little Canada wasn’t talkin’ shit, you are stayin’ here, Ram?”
I could feel Rod’s eyes on my face, but I stayed focused on Barbara’s face, although I listened intently for his answer.
