Leaving Ashwood

by Cynthia Kraack

“My wife wants to return to the estates regions. But we want to own some land, to be voters.”

  “What can you afford?” Land prices froze middle-income people out of the market as rumors grew that legislation might be passed establishing a minimum acreage for future national voting eligibility. He mentioned a realistic amount.

  “Would you be happy with two acres in the Ashwood housing area? We could work out a salary, housing allowance and bonus arrangement. Maybe you buy the land on the day you start work and the housing allowance serves as something like a mortgage over a five year period?” I knew his wife missed her friends on the estate and having their children in our school.

  “If you allow me to retain my private company with a commitment that it will not interfere with my responsibilities to Hartford, Ltd., we could have an agreement.” The details were worked out quickly as well as plans for a face-to-face meeting with Sadig that day. As we spoke I changed internal systems codes and sent alerts about a change in leadership to the required web of public protectors.

  “You should know, Anne, that Sadig isn’t incompetent, but his pride stops him from digging into questions he won’t be able to answer.” Under his words I understood Lao was not pleased with what he was uncovering at Giant Pines. “It will not take a lot of change to bring security back to best practices. I can begin today if you’ll keep my staff in place at Giant Pines.”

  “Makes sense. There is another challenge for you, and it concerns Phoebe.” I shared what we knew and asked him to talk with Frances. For the first time, Lao did not assure me that he would find a solution. “I finished setting you up in all your former access points and registered the change with the authorities. There are new people in Engineering managing the partial power down.”

  “Good to be back, Anne. Thanks.”

  I raised my blinds, unlocked the door, and worked throughout the early afternoon until David, smelling like a farmer, wandered in.

  “You’ve been closed up in here for hours.”

  “And you’ve been in the barns.” My nose wrinkled at the odor, an instinctive reaction that still made David smile.

  He lifted one foot. “I changed shoes and washed up. You’re too sensitive. An agribusiness owner, definitely not a farmer.”

  “That’s what I’ve been told.” I returned his smile. “This has been a productive few hours. You’ll be happy to know I worked out a deal to bring Lao back without a messy dismissal. Sadig offered his resignation.”

  David smiled. “Thank you. Sound decision.”

  “And I’ve been reviewing a proposal for a poison pill that could deter Deshomm’s efforts that centers around John’s Giant Pines proposal. Raima’s group did a bang up job.” I stretched my spine and shoulders. “The big family news for the afternoon—Andrew is in love with Phoebe. They had a rather long relationship that ended when Ahlmet came on the scene.”

  Watching David process the information was interesting—surprise, testing the thought of his daughter being in love, acceptance, and maybe dismay—brought his eyebrows upward, then lower and fianlly together. His lips straightened before relaxing.

  “Holy shit. How did we miss this?” I shrugged in response to his question. David shared his thoughts in bits. “Interesting. Andrew’s the only person, beside you, who can keep Phoebe centered. How do you feel about it?”

  Truthfully I hadn’t found my answer to that question. “I want Andrew to be happy and that seems to include finding a woman to share his life. I want Phoebe to find peace in her life. Maybe that means a man. I’m so focused on pulling her out of this mind control nightmare, I didn’t want to think about a love relationship being part of the challenge.”

  “Andrew would be a great son-in-law. Just like he’s been a great stepson.” He shook his head. “Damn crazy world.” But being David, he returned immediately to the moment. “I have to clean up again. Would you like to have wine on the patio with Dad tonight?”

  “That sounds great.”

  “Can I ask about the box?” If he hadn’t smelled like livestock and feed, I would have moved closer to offer comfort.

  “The code key for your father’s will.”

  Resignation chased aside the remnants of levity in David’s voice. “He has confidence in you as executor, and I intend to help.”

  “I was surprised to also find your mother’s platinum and diamond engagement ring.”

  “She could have been a business woman like you if not for marrying a South Dakota rancher and having a table full of sons.”

  Sarah dealt with a dozen hungry children, empty pantries and the responsi­bility to feed a significant part of the surrounding community during her first months at Ashwood. I don’t know if someone raised with classic farming experience could have success managing the interface of government units, consumer demands and confusing budget systems dropped on our backs.

  “I didn’t expect anything special. It’s beautiful and still looks new.”

  “You gave them a home, incredible business opportunities and a caring community.”

  “We did that together, David. On my own I would have sold Giant Pines and kept Ashwood smaller. I’d be a working drone in Deshomm instead of chasing them off.”

  “Now, if we can only reshape the business empire for the next phase of our life.” His communicator buzzed. This was the story of our lives, building big thoughts on little slices of discussion. “Have a good working session with Raima.”

  Chapter 17

  On the second night we gathered for Paul, our dearest friends joined the family. Young and mature voices filled the dining room. Food flowed from the kitchen, but I have almost no memory of what we ate. I do remember how Frances and Terrell sat on both sides of Lao, the stories Magda shared with the twins about how their parents met, tears in Raima’s eyes as she sat next to Paul.

  Phoebe and Andrew arrived together and sat side-by-side like they did as children. I sent Hana from the room with directions to the kitchen staff to keep her away from food bound for our table and out of the dining room. Phoebe showed no interest in where Hana spent time.

  Stepping outside FFP protocol that assigned all faith-based activity to the senior woman in a residence, Andrew offered to lead us in a prayer. Hands reached for other hands, heads lowered, some eyes glistened.

  “Lord, we thank you for this good food raised on the earth of Ashwood. We thank you for all who have been a part of our lives here, in this home made by David and Anne. This evening, with our family and friends, we ask for your guidance and grace as we leave this table for whatever path our lives might take. Amen.”

  Heads stayed down in private thoughts and emotions until Paul’s weak voice broke the silence.

  “Can always tell the ones who weren’t raised as Catholics or Jews.” His old-man laugh invited company. “We weren’t taught to pray out loud without a guide sheet.” My generation laughed with appreciation, but the younger members smiled without understanding his generational comment. “Thanks, Andrew.”

  For those returning from the bigger world, three meals of fresh vegetables, home-baked breads, full-flavored dairy products may have felt like life in an old world. Cook prepared many of Paul’s favorite dishes using my mother-in-law’s recipes. An excellent Australian white wine brought by Raima replaced our usual estate red or white. Voices grew louder as stories chased around the tables. I noticed Faith sipping at her token glass and Phoebe twirling her first serving.

  “Think you can make a difference in the ruckus in Washington,” Paul asked John during a lull in the conversations.

  “Yes I do, Grandpa.” The family quieted as John’s dream was shared for the first time. “I believe the next decade will return this country to traditional democracy or give in to rule by the multi-corps. It’s a critical time.”

  “And how would you start this transformation,” Raima que
stioned.

  “Revoke the amendments that allowed congress and the president to make permanent changes to the Constitution during times of national security without full approval of the electorate.”

  Terrell led applause.

  “Think how many people in this room have made significant contributions to the United States, or work for the government, and haven’t had the right to vote. All of us adult kids, Lao, Amber. Most of us because of the land ownership clause. Now the multi-corps are pressuring for a change in that language to make voting even more of a privilege instead of a right.”

  “Amen, young man.” Terrell raised his wine glass. “You will have my vote.”

  “But only a few people here will be able to vote for you if you want to go to Washington,” Phoebe pointed out. “Maybe you could try the Minnesota State House first?”

  “Sorry, but I’m not interested in delivery of services and local financial management.” He leaned back in his chair. Across the table I could feel his intensity. “I want to be part of policy development.” Political conversation continued until David tapped a spoon against his glass.

  “I’ll keep this brief.” There were snickers as David was known for talking until he was finished regardless of time. “Enough.” He smiled and stood at the head of the long table.

  “It wasn’t easy for you to make arrangements to spend time at home. Anne and I thank all of you.” I saw David fight emotions. “Tonight will be one for us to all keep in our memories.” He tipped his head, and then raised it. “But tonight, the true guest of honor is that old guy sitting next to my lovely wife.” David lifted his glass. “Dad, if you haven’t heard it before, you have made our lives better by watching your example. We love you.”

  We were all on our feet. It was a night for laughter and tears. While we lingered over dessert, I wished Sarah could be with us. If I was the one who guided our family through a difficult time, she was the one who comforted those who were frightened, sad, unsure.

  Dinner’s brief holiday feeling faded when David accompanied Paul and Raima back to his father’s quarters while others disappeared to their own responsi­bilities. I settled on the screen porch to read through documents for the next day and wait for the transport to take Raima back to the city. This had been a prime time of day for soccer or softball games when our children were young and the government-assigned workers’ average age was about eleven. David organized soccer leagues including residents of neighboring estates and a softball tournament at the end of each summer. He and I played on teams, but we were younger then and not responsible for a small international corporation.

  “You were thinking of something special,” David said when he joined me. “You had that certain smile.” He picked up a pile of business things and put it on the floor. “Dad is tired out but enjoying his visit with Raima. She said she wouldn’t stay very late.”

  “We had a productive meeting this afternoon. I’ve scheduled a six o’clock call tomorrow morning with the Hartford, Ltd., advisory team to discuss strategy around this Deshomm threat. You’re welcome to join.” Raima’s insights gave me confidence in the plan.

  “Do the plans give John a chance at building the future he wants?”

  “Bigger than that, my man.” David tilted his head toward me. I reminded myself to have his hearing assessed as I recognized a recent mannerism he used during important conversations.

  “Did you talk with Raima about Phoebe?” Something like impatience pulled under his words. “Andrew just helped her through a seizure, or whatever we’re calling these attacks.”

  “We talked a lot about that. Why don’t you come with me when I talk to Phoebe about joining a restructured Hartford, Ltd.” I checked his face for understanding, saw he was pre-occupied with her present physical condition.

  My hand on his knee drew his attention. “Frances, Milan, Lao, and Raima are all doing what they can to identify the root of Phoebe’s problem. Maybe you can make connections through your DOE network. I don’t have any other strings to pull inside the Bureau lab structure.” He sank into thought, but I knew he was listening. “I want to help our daughter put together a healthier life than the Intellectual Corps if she is willing.”

  “For a start I suggest someone send Hana, that creepy cares, back to Chicago.” I nodded in agreement with David’s assessment. “Andrew believes she’s medicating Phoebe. But Phoebe won’t hear of being without a cares.”

  Knowledge of Andrew’s feelings for Phoebe, influenced my approaches to her problems in a schizophrenic manner—motherly concern for her safety and happiness, and motherly concern about quality of my son’s life if settling with a high maintenance woman. “Amber has staff minimizing Hana’s time alone with Phoebe.”

  Raima walked toward us, her steps slower than in her metro environment and sadness worn on her face. “Can I wait with you for my transport?” Her voice, usually bright and staking control, was quiet.

  David pulled a chair closer.

  “What a wonderful man,” she said. “When Anne referred him to me as a client twenty years ago, I had no idea he’d become my stand-in father.”

  Eight thirty was near, the sun no longer heated us and fewer workers walked the production areas. Raima leaned toward David, an unusual gesture, and put an arm around his shoulders before resting her head there.

  “You would think those of us who lost everyone during the second depression would have tougher skins.” Raima straightened. “Of course there are so few truly old people left that losing any of them is a tragedy. Thanks to both of you for sharing him.”

  “My Dad never befriended a person he wasn’t interested in, Raima.”

  She sorted herself back into her more controlled façade. “Is there time to speak with Phoebe before I leave? I have a few questions about her contract.”

  “There was another episode after dinner, I’m not sure she’s up to a serious discussion,” David offered. “Maybe a conference in the morning.”

  “I don’t mean to offend you, David, but I think she can pull herself together for a discussion this important.” Raima kicked through David’s protective parent role without emotion. “There’s no reason for Hartford, Ltd., to pay my firm’s very expensive hourly rate to research breaking Phoebe’s contract if she is not interested. Right?”

  I saw Phoebe and Andrew walking our way during the conversation. Hana followed, a catlike shadow staying close to walls. I lifted my chin to alert David and draw attention to the cares’ presence. I suggested a move to my office for Raima’s talk with Phoebe.

  We swapped favorite Paul stories as we walked. Phoebe sounded clear-headed and calm, both firsts for this visit. Andrew said little.

  As I closed my office door, Raima morphed from family friend to Hartford’s legal counsel with an eye on the clock.

  “Anne’s team has built a re-organization plan for Hartford, Ltd., that is excellent on many levels.” She sat in a chair, gestured for Phoebe to sit next to her while David, Andrew, and I settled. I wondered why we weren’t all at the conference table, but trusted Raima’s instincts.

  “A very significant research director role will exist within that new structure. We’ll use the water resources development corporation created by your biological mother to safeguard her technology patents. The Department of Energy will invest to improve the labs here if that interests you or Hartford, Ltd., will find a third party to build labs to your specifications elsewhere. We’re not worried about raising capital.” She paused. “The question is whether you have interest in leaving the Intellectual Corps to take on that role?”

  Autocratic didn’t quite describe Phoebe’s manner of communicating about her work world with outsiders. High secret labs filled with brilliant solo researchers certainly didn’t waste time in development of soft skills like diplomacy or tact. Dining out with Ahlmet and Phoebe had made me feel socially po
lished, intellectually inferior, and dismayed that our daughter had shed much of what she’d learned about being polite and cordial as a child. In the thirty seconds of quiet following Raima’s question, I braced myself for Phoebe’s response.

  “Why wouldn’t a slave grasp at the possibility of freedom?” She spoke to Raima, ignoring all of us. Or dismissing all of us. “I would do almost anything aside from being a prostitute or testing pig to get away from the lab hell hole. It would be extraordinary if Hartford, Ltd., needed either of those in-house.”

  David startled, too stretched by the events of the day to not respond to Phoebe’s off-the-wall statement. Whole estates agreed to serve as test sites for food supplements or pharmaceutical experiments. I would never put employees of our company in jeopardy to pad our income.

  “Phoebe, I can assure you that Hartford, Ltd., will never be involved in those activities.” I leaned against my desk, my feet close to hers. “I have to be very honest and tell you that we might not be able to offer you the same resources and challenge the Bureau is able to structure with the multi-corps. You will be the one to define how to be intellectually stimulated.” Fighting my natural instinct to fold my arms over my chest, I placed them at my sides on the desk. “You’ll not have the services of the Intellectual Corps here. If you want a personal attendant, you can hire one. You have enough money to live a very comfortable life, but unless we’re able to grow the water business a great deal, you’ll live like we do.”

  She stood, took my hand and led me to the windows. Her fingers, while smooth and cool, transferred energy to mine. In her profile I saw the brilliance Phoebe brought to her work.

  “Look at those trees, Mom.” Her tone implied we were alone, that the connection of our hands recreated the intimacy of mother and child. “I look at the orchard, at the sun screen fields, at the irrigation systems and find myself distracted from the work that has sucked every bit of my days. There’s nothing easy about preserving water and agriculture. I see this land as a great lab. All I need to start work on a new project is a half dozen research assistants, good technology support and an academic partner.” Dropping my hand, she put her arms around my shoulders and hugged me. “I would start tomorrow if you put the papers in front of me.”