“Thank you. We love Christmas, and since we got power back on, I thought we might as well have all lights too,” he said.
Power back on? My power wasn’t on. I wonder if Jim got the big generator going. If he managed somehow to feed that power into the town grid, it would extend out here. I would have to ask him about that.
“I must say I’m looking forward to the fishing, Art. It’s been so long since I’ve even thought about wetting a line.” I smiled.
“I will admit that they haven’t been biting very well since the quake. That won’t stop us from trying though,” he said.
Claire came into the room with a tray.
“I thought you might like some tea and scones, Allexa,” Claire said, setting the tray down on the long low table in front of the chairs. “It’s been wonderful to have regular flour, thank you so much for the supplies!”
“Speaking of supplies, I’ve brought you a gift.” I set a half gallon bottle of Captain Morgan’s rum on the table. “I noticed you drinking this brand, and since you named your dog after it, I’m assuming it’s what you like.”
Art’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! It was a real treat to have some…” Then he stopped and I knew it was because he didn’t want to mention Mark’s funeral or wake.
“It’s been two weeks, Art, I really am doing better. I will miss Mark forever, and I will admit there are times I can’t even say his name aloud without falling apart, but I’ve been getting so much support from my family and friends that I know I’ll be okay.” I picked up the cup with trembling hands and sipped the minty tea. “Oh, and the boys are having a party on Christmas afternoon, and would like you and Claire to join us. It’s a potluck dinner and they’ve asked for there to be no gifts. That’s why I wanted to bring the rum today.”
“It’s greatly appreciated, Allexa, thank you. We know how hard these past few months have been on you, not only the last few weeks, which I’ve no doubt have been the worse anyone could bear. We want you to know, Allexa, that our home is open to you anytime you need a refuge,” Art said, sympathy deep in his voice.
~~~
“I thought you might like to see our tanning factory since you had some interest in what we did with the hides,” Art said as we followed a long, wide path. “We put this building away from the rest of the compound because of the potential odors. During the curing process it can get a bit smelly,” he laughed. “And since it’s an ongoing thing, it’s always odorous.”
We stepped inside the long, low building where there were two people sitting at large wooden tables cutting and sewing leather.
“This is the craft room, and through those doors is the curing room. We harvested two more deer and a bear, so those hides are being scraped, if you would care to see,” he offered, and opened the door to the next section.
“Yep, it smells!” I said, and entered, fascinated by the steps needed to produce a workable hide. The three hides were draped over logs that had had the bark removed to provide a smooth surface. The skins were held in place by straps and someone was using a wide, dull knife to scrape all the tissue off the underside.
“What do you use for the curing agent?” I asked.
“Brains,” Art grinned. “Every animal has enough brains to cure its hide, except for the human.” At which point he laughed. “Over here are the stretching racks. If the hides aren’t held in one shape while they dry, they start to curl.” He turned and led me back to the craft room.
I looked around more closely this time. There were various pelts hanging from the ceiling: rabbit, marten, mink, and wolf. That made me think of the wolf pelts we had wasted back in July.
“What are you making?” I asked one of the workers.
“A muff,” she explained. “These are easy. All I do is lace the ends together, trim it and turn it inside out. With the fur on the inside, the hands stay warm.” I pictured old-fashioned Christmas scenes with women having their hands tucked inside a muff in front of them. It swept me with a warm, nostalgic feeling.
“Mittens are next. The children are forever wearing them out,” Art continued.
“We are also experimenting with shoes, or moccasins to be more precise. We’re not sure how long the leather on moccasins will hold up,” the worker continued.
“You know, Art, you have quite a valuable barter commodity in this leather crafting,” I said as we made our way down to the lake.
“Perhaps someday. Right now we’re barely keeping up with our own needs.”
~~~
Dinner that night was bear burgers, potato salad, and blackberry wine. I ate way too much and slept well for the first time in many days.
~~~
“I’m sorry you didn’t catch any fish yesterday, Allexa,” Art lamented.
“It’s called fishing, not catching,” I laughed, and that felt really good. “I do think it’s time for me to head home. Art, Claire, this has been a wonderful, relaxing break for me. Thank you so much.” I reached out and gave each a brief hug.
“Before you go, we have a gift for you,” Claire said, presenting me with what looked like a pile of leather.
Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a large purse or satchel, with a long, wide strap. The exterior flap that closed and held the contents inside was held shut with a piece of antler pushed through a loop of matching leather. The flap was etched with designs of pine needles and pinecones. I was awestruck.
“This is beautiful,” I whispered, admiring the well-oiled leather. “Thank you.”
CHAPTER 44
December 24
I slipped inside the church and found a seat in the back, like I had done before with Pastor Carolyn. The place was packed, many looking for salvation or forgiveness or both; still others just seeking the company of others. I can’t say I blamed them for any of it.
Father Constantine looked healthy, if not somewhat subdued, and gave a good, non-denominational sermon on what Christmas means to Christians. He’s going to make an excellent spiritual leader for the community.
“Allexa,” Father Constantine said as he greeted me in the throng of the parishioners in the narthex of the church. “It’s really good to see you here for our Christmas Eve service. How are you doing?” His deep brown eyes searched my face compassionately.
“I’m doing as well as can be expected, Father. Will I be seeing you tomorrow afternoon at my son’s party?”
He smiled instantly. “Absolutely, and we’re looking forward to it.” He then let go of my hand as the crowd pushed me onward and out the door.
~~~
I had no lights, no tree, and few presents to give my family tomorrow. I kept telling everyone I was doing fine, but I wasn’t.
“Oh, Mark, I miss you so much!” I sobbed, and cried myself to sleep.
December 25
With the sun coming up later in the morning and with it usually shrouded with murky cloud cover, I didn’t notice the dusting of snow at first. The snow gave a fresh look to the yard and the trees, especially the evergreens. The temperatures must have dropped during the night.
I lit the stove to take the chill off, just as Rayn came over.
“Good morning, Allexa! Isn’t the snow beautiful?” She glowed with happiness.
“Yes it is. Are you getting ready for the party this afternoon?”
“I’ve never been more excited about an event in my life! I was wondering if you had a dress I could borrow? Dress up was not part of my duffle bag.”
I laughed along with her. “Certainly, let’s take a look.”
At my closet we stood and stared, until I found what I was looking for. It was a long, slim, peach colored dress with a scooped neck. I pulled it out, and held it up to her. The peach emphasized and complimented her exotic coloring.
“Here, try this on,” I said, leaving her in the bedroom alone. Moments later she came out.
“The dress is lovely on you, Rayn, but the boots have to go!” I laughed. She looked down at her feet and laughed too. Then frowned.
“I suppose I could go barefoot,” she grinned.
“No need. I have just the thing.” I disappeared back to the closet and found her some beige slippers while she changed back into her own clothes.
“Thank you so much! These will be perfect. I’ll see you around three o’clock!” and she slipped out the door, running home.
~~~
I made a batch of tortillas first, so they could rest before grilling. They should be cooled for what I had in mind as my potluck contribution.
I opened and drained two jars of canned fish, mashing the chunks in a medium bowl. Next was a glop of mayonnaise I had made a few days ago, a dash of Worcestershire sauce, and several dashes of liquid smoke. I stirred it until blended, and added one onion, finely chopped. I felt a twinge of sorrow, remembering I usually left out the onion because Kathy disliked it so.
I divided the mixture into six portions, and spread it evenly on the six tortillas, rolling each one tightly. I sliced the rolls an inch thick, forming pinwheels, and placed them on a Christmas platter. Covered with a clean sackcloth towel, they would keep in the cold pantry until I was ready to leave.
With the generator running for my shower, I also did the few dishes and ran a load of laundry. I drew off two gallons of water to put through the filter and set them aside for later.
Showered and dressed, I gazed at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. When had I gotten so thin and sad looking? This wouldn’t do. The party my sons were having was to be a fun and festive occasion. I rooted around in the cupboard and found my makeup bag. It had been over a year that I’d even thought about using it. A touch of eyeliner, a swipe of mascara and a light dust of blush made all the difference in the world. I was ready to face my family and my friends.
~~~
“Hi, Mom!” Eric greeted me at the door. He was glowing with excitement. “Let me take that dish from you.” He set it on the table while I took my coat off and added it to the growing pile in the anteroom off the kitchen.
It was good to see how many were already here. Jason thrust a glass in my hand and I made my way to the group on the other side of the room.
“You look lovely tonight, Allexa,” Colonel Jim said, kissing my cheek.
“Thank you. Once Rayn borrowed a dress from me, I figured it was an occasion to spruce up a bit,” I laughed, and noticed everyone was dressed up a bit. I’m not sure Joshua owned anything other than jeans, though the ones he had on were clean and looked like they had been pressed, as well as his button down shirt.
There were colored lights strung around the ceiling and over every doorway. Those two boys of mine must have done a great deal of searching the house and barn to have found Nancy’s artificial tree and ornaments. The place sparkled with festivity.
Shortly after Sgt. Sanders and Corporal Perkins arrived, Father Constantine and the three Sisters came in. I looked around at the crowded room. It seemed that everyone we knew was there. What a wonderful way to spend the holiday.
Father Constantine cleared his throat. “May I have everyone’s attention please? Not only is this Christmas day, and we are celebrating the birth of Christ, but we are also celebrating another event.”
Eric and Rayn were suddenly in front of me, holding hands.
“Mom, remember what you said when you announced that you and Dr. Mark were getting married? That you wanted to hold onto all the happiness you could find? Well that’s what I want, too, with Rayn. I’m going to grab onto this happiness I’ve found with her, so I’m asking for your blessing on our marriage.”
“Oh, Eric….” I barely got the words out. “Of course you have my blessing!” I turned to Rayn and said, “You are both very lucky! When is the wedding?”
Eric grinned. “Right now.”
~~~
“What a joyous occasion this is,” Father Constantine started, as Eric and Rayn took their places in front of him. “And I’m personally pleased to be part of it. When we first arrived here in Moose Creek two months ago, we were all strangers. Now, I feel we are all family, and that makes my heart sing. All the disasters that have befallen us and brought us such sorrow have also bonded us, and now Eric and Rayn have asked to be bonded in marriage.”
Father Constantine talked on and my mind drifted.
It was a simple and lovely ceremony.
CHAPTER 45
JOURNAL ENTRY: March 15
It’s been an incredibly mild winter with very little snow. Rather than having the harsh winter and cold summer that everyone was expecting with the ash cloud still circling the Earth, it seems as if our seasons have been balanced to a more neutral zone, which may mean an early summer.
I pulled out all the vegetable seeds I had in storage and piled them by types: tomatoes, root crops, squash. With the greenhouse it is never too early to start some seedlings.
The greenhouse has produced well over the winter, and I was able to share green and wax beans, tomatoes and kale with my family and friends.
*
I pushed more of the fresh vegetables at Rayn, now that she was expecting a baby. Their news was what I needed to pull me out of the grief-induced funk I was in. The prospect of them giving me another grandchild filled me with joy and hope for the future.
I was about done drawing out this year’s garden when I spotted a familiar car pull in the driveway. Jim had arrived for our weekly game of cribbage.
“The weather sure has been good, Allexa,” he said with a mischievous grin. “And with no snow, I bet we could make it around that other route we found and get to the city. Want to take a road trip?”
About the Author
Deborah Moore lives a quiet life in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan with her cat, Tufts. She was born and raised in Detroit, the kid of a cop, and moved to a small town to raise her two young sons, then moved to an even smaller town to pursue her dreams of being self-sufficient and to explore her love of writing.
Being a life-long Prepper, Deborah has done numerous articles for magazines, and speaking engagements at conventions regarding the subject.
Her first published novel, The Journal: Cracked Earth, made the Best Seller’s list in just six weeks. Book Two of the series, Ash Fall, went to the printer eight months early because of the unprecedented popularity and Book Three, Crimson Skies, is proving to be even more popular. And Deborah is delighted to announce that book #4 is right around the corner.
Table of Contents
Crimson Skies
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
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The Journal: Crimson Skies: (The Journal Book 3) Page 29
