Graham's Resolution Trilogy Bundle: Books 1-3

by A. R. Shaw

  It disturbed him that Addy had heard. He and Kim had learned to be quiet in lovemaking as well as in private discussions. Not wanting to address Addy’s question he said, “Why aren’t you sleeping, sweetheart? It’s late.” The moonlight cast a glow on her profile.

  “Not sleepy.” Addy fingered the fabric of her nightgown, pleating the hem, squeezing it tightly then smoothing it out. She looked at him. “Can Daddy see the moon, too?”

  Dalton swallowed hard. “Yes. Yes, he can.” He pulled a chair over to her so he could gaze upon the moonlight too, both of them in on this wondrous event; Addy turned back to face the bright orb with something of a smile on her crimson lips. The full, bright moon obviated the need for the lantern he held.

  After turning the wick down, he said, “You’re never far from your daddy. He can see the same moon you do—the very same. Now try to sleep, sweet girl. I’ll stay right here with you.” He held the covers open so she could snuggle down beneath. After tucking Addy in, he patted her back. Closing her eyes, she held the contented smile. Placing a light kiss on her temple, Dalton sat back in the chair next to her bed and gazed at the moonlight.

  Kim’s attitude toward Addy wasn’t going to change. Dalton knew that, though he didn’t like it. But if it had to be done, it was best to get it done at once. As the sun rose, its light replacing the moon’s, he waited for the sleeping child to stir. She blinked up at him, bringing an automatic, if reluctant, curve to his lips. He didn’t feel particularly happy. He felt as if he was betraying Sam as well as Addy.

  “Good morning, dove.” He brought a finger to his lips. “Let’s go for a walk,” he whispered. He’d already gathered her knapsack as she lay sleeping through the wee hours and he sat sleepless, thinking. Slinging the pack over his shoulder, he reached for Addy. She smiled, he knew she knew. She stood barefoot on her cot while he wrapped her up in the blanket, keeping her warmth to go out into the cold.

  At the crack of dawn in the prepper camp, few wanted to meet the day so early. Clarisse was one of those, rarely spotted coming and going from the quarantine building, if she left it at all. That would have to change, Dalton knew.

  Keeping Addy warm in his arms, he buzzed the gate and nodded to the sentry. Addy smiled a hello. The hush of the cold morning had her snuggling closer in, tucking her legs up close, leaning against Dalton’s chest.

  “S’okay, Addy. I’m taking you to Clarisse. To stay with her from now on. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “She will take good care of you. I’ll visit every day, sweetheart.” He tightened his arm around her. He tried his best to keep the pain and resentment out of his voice.

  “Clarisse is lonely too. I like her,” Addy whispered.

  “I do too,” Dalton said as his boots crunched on the snow-covered gravel. Then Addy pointed up with a small finger. Swooshing wings beat the air in near silence. He stopped and they both looked upward at the gray morning sky to see geese flying in V formation—flocking toward the lake, Dalton guessed, near Graham’s camp.

  Dalton smiled at Addy, and her at him, sharing another special event. They reached the quarantine building in a happier mood, having enjoyed the sight of creatures parting air, still prevalent and unchanged despite the catastrophe that had befallen the world.

  Dalton, still carrying the girl, nodded to the security guard who buzzed him in.

  “She’s in the lab.”

  “Thanks.”

  Clarisse looked up as he entered the room. She met his gaze before the child’s. “Hi,” she said, putting on a bright smile for Addy’s sake. “You two are out bright and early this morning. Come on in. Addy, I’m so glad you’re here,” she added, dispelling Dalton’s doubts in that instant. “I hear you’re going to be my new lab assistant.”

  He put the girl down. The blanket fell about her bare feet. Her flannel nightgown hung down. Her brown hair stuck out, wild and unkempt as Addy embraced Clarisse’s waist.

  Dalton watched for it, for the acceptance of this precious girl. On reflex, Clarisse hugged her back and pulled her hand over the girl’s tangled locks. She glanced quickly at Dalton, and he got the silent message she sent. She knew Dalton needed her to love the child, not just keep her. But she would have without question, without him needing her to. To Clarisse, Addy was a gift, never a question.

  She knelt down to Addy’s level and smiled brightly. “Let’s get you cleaned up and fed.”

  “Do we have to go back to camp to eat?” Addy asked.

  “Nope. I have enough snacks here,” Clarisse replied.

  Clarisse adored her already.

  Clarisse reached for Addy’s backpack. Dalton forgot he’d borne the weight of it all the way from his tent, as he had the child. He’d also carried a much greater weight, the one in his heart. It lifted as he watched the scene play out.

  “Thank you, Dalton, for bringing Addy to me,” Clarisse said.

  He knew she meant it, knew for certain she saw the child as a gift, not a burden.

  Dalton swallowed and bent down to bid Addy good-bye. He held her soft hands, and she leaned into him. “I’ll visit with you at dinner tonight, Miss Addy.”

  She kissed him lightly on his roughened cheek, a sweet little brush. “Thank you for bringing me to Clarisse, Dalton.” He kissed her on the forehead and stood. Addy placed her hand inside Clarisse’s, and they waved good-bye to him.

  As Dalton turned to head down the hall his heart ripped, but he knew Addy was where she needed to be. When he arrived back in the camp, he let Kim know he’d done it for the child’s sake, not for hers.

  Some time before, Dalton had expressed his concern to Clarisse about her spending nights alone in the quarantine building instead of within the prepper camp compound. But this arrangement killed two birds with one stone: Clarisse and Addy would come back each evening so that they would be in the safe confines of Clarisse’s sleeping quarters and within the boundaries of the prepper camp. She was wanted, and both she and Clarisse were safe at night. Dalton felt like he’d failed the child, but he knew he’d still get to visit Addy every day.

  ~ ~ ~

  Clarisse’s passing by him as he neared the serving table brought Dalton back to the present. He smiled at her as she walked past, a smile she returned. He was glad he’d made two people happy. Well, three, if he included his wife, though that fact was a mere by-product.

  Clarisse brought Addy’s tray to her. While the others were having barbecue TVP chicken over rice, Clarisse opted to bring Addy her rice dressed with faux butter spread and a dash of salt and pepper, knowing the girl would not care for the rich barbecue sauce mixed in. She spooned a little of the main course on the side along with her reconstituted mixed vegetables. A slice of homemade bread and canned mandarin oranges rounded out the meal.

  Clarisse always made a point of effort to converse with Kim at dinner now in an effort to ease the tension. She liked to think Kim had felt overwhelmed by all her diverse tasks in the camp and had acted in Addy’s best interest. While she knew it had been against Dalton’s wishes for Addy to move in with her, she had no complaints. Addy made her life complete. Well, almost.

  As she went back for her own tray, Clarisse made a point of complimenting Kim on her cooking skills. “I don’t know how you do it. You’ve managed to make something different every evening, giving everyone something to look forward to.” Though she said it with effort and a forced smile, she hoped Kim would believe she meant it. In truth, Clarisse didn’t care much for the woman. She felt Kim didn’t appreciate her own husband and acted as the camp socialite, but she kept that slight contempt to herself, all the same.

  “Well, we all have our jobs. I’m thankful I can bring a smile to most folks,” Kim said in her singsong drawl with a little dig toward Addy. Then, as if she remembered a question for Clarisse, or perhaps just wanted to keep a dialogue going with her for Dalton’s sake, she said, “Clarisse? Tammy and I were working in the greenhouse, and we had a question about cross-pollinating. Tam
my says that you cannot plant pumpkins next to other squash but, I remembered planting them next to zucchini without any problems. Do you know what she’s talking about?”

  “It’s a bit tricky,” Clarisse informed her. “Pumpkins can cross with other squash, and different kinds of squash can cross with each other. But you will not see the results in the crop that year; you’ll still get what you planted. It’s the seeds inside the fruits that are affected, so if you take those seeds and plant them the following year the fruits you get then will be a cross. Sometimes they’re quite strange looking—exotic—but often they’re inedible. So if you intend to save the seeds for the next year’s crop, which obviously you do in our circumstances, then you want to keep them separate to avoid cross-pollination.”

  “Okay, we’re starting some of the seedlings now and planning the garden layout at the same time.”

  Clarisse said, “That’s good news. We’re all very excited about eating fresh vegetables. Let me know if you need any help. I’m sure Addy would love to work in the greenhouse,” she added, then immediately regretted her words.

  “That’s a great idea.” Kim lit up like a Christmas tree at the prospect. “We should get all the children involved. We’ll have a sign-up sheet!”

  At the mere mention of a sign-up sheet Clarisse smiled and nodded, figuring that was all she could take. She backed away with her tray, nodding and smiling until she thought it might be safe enough to turn around and escape. She sat next to Addy, feeling as though she’d completed her quota of required socializing for the day and then some.

  Clarisse watched as Addy finished her rice and worked on her oranges, giggling and listening as Dalton retold the story about how her dad had snuck up behind a moose so quietly last fall that the massive beast jumped when it realized a human had come that close. “Just like a scared cat.” The little girl laughed at the thought of her dad besting a moose. In Addy’s mind, there wasn’t a thing her dad couldn’t do.

  Clarisse watched as Addy climbed onto Dalton’s lap and nestled into his arms while begging for another story about her dad. She ached to keep that happiness on the girl’s face. When Addy turned to tell one of the other children that what Dalton said about her dad “was so true,” Clarisse met Dalton’s eyes and mouthed, Thank you.

  He smiled and mouthed back, Anytime.

  5 Skinning Wolves

  The inside of the greenhouse smelled of the loamy peat starter mix they used to encourage the new seeds to germinate. Graham associated the strong odor with the Easter holiday and with digging graves. More disconcerting was having the two memories mesh together—chocolate bunnies with pastel bowties and factory-produced yellow marshmallow chicks next to visions of him covering his father’s face with dirt. Every time he set foot in the building these pictures flashed before his eyes, but that’s the way it was. He would shake his head and exhale at the absurdity of his reactions. The others had similar triggers to past memories, both good and bad; you never knew what would prompt a reaction to the old in this new world.

  He and Sam had erected two temporary posts for the purposes of hanging kills, to bleed them in the greenhouse. This temporary arrangement was agreed upon by the greenhouse boss—namely, Tala. They’d reserved enough space in the front to hang two kills at a time. As long as they promised not to disturb the greenery, Tala wouldn’t deprive them of coffee.

  Skinning for actual taxidermy purposes would take a lot more attention to detail than their needs called for. They only wanted the most intact fur from the beasts, so Graham didn’t bother skinning out the paws or the head, which would take him an additional two to four hours sitting on an overturned bucket with a spotlight and visions of brightly colored jellybeans and pastel Easter eggs to contend with. He ran the small sharp skinning knife down the inside of the wolf’s paw up to the inside elbow and then up the inside shoulder, with the blade tip right under the skin. Then he made similar cuts for the other limbs, after first using a lateral cut to start pulling the hide back. Afterward he ran the sharp blade from the inside back leg, up to and around the anus.

  Next he sat on the bucket and scraped back any tendons or tough tissue patches as he pulled the skin down toward the skull. Skinning wolves meant stinky work, but once you got the hang of the task, you ignored the musk and pushed forward. Some of the silly visions dispersed as the odor took over.

  When he got to the line around the neck he continued to finish out the forelegs. The tedious task would take most of the evening to complete both beasts, but, if not done properly, the hair would fall out of the hide. If that happened, all the effort and benefit of the task would be lost.

  Graham had learned the skinning process from his dad many years ago, never realizing he would come to depend on the skill. So now, when he picked up the knife, memories flooded in a rush. Each time grew easier, and now he appreciated the memories even though, in the beginning, they nearly drove him mad.

  With several building projects planned once the warm weather took hold, he’d hoped to add two more bedrooms onto the cabin; one for him and Tala and one for the twins to share. Afterward he and Sam would begin working on a better barn structure. They wanted to get a hold of a few beef and dairy cows to help supplement their diet, and possibly start a small herd.

  He was nearly down to the tail when Marcy came through the entrance, bearing a welcome cup of hot coffee.

  “Hey, Tala said you needed this,” she said, presenting the steaming cup.

  So far they’d managed to find coffee out on their scavenging trips, but Graham dreaded the day the coffee ran out.

  “Give me a second,” he said as he stood up, put the knife away, and removed his gloves. As he pulled the fingers of the glove off one by one, he came to the conclusion that Marcy didn’t usually come around bearing gifts, and Graham suspected more to the delivery than mere coffee.

  Marcy settled the warm cup in his cold hands.

  “So, are you packed up for the hunt?” he asked her, knowing he’d better lead the conversation.

  “Yeah, I’m ready.” She lingered, passively studying the raw flesh with barely the tip of her finger.

  “You cleaned your gun?”

  “Yes. As you showed me, Graham.”

  She rolled her eyes, strolled away from the kill, and wandered behind Graham toward the seedling tables. He remembered his father telling a neighbor once, “You always have to stay at least one step ahead of teenagers to keep them from killing themselves.” Great advice, if you weren’t already three steps behind them to begin with, Graham thought.

  She wanted something. Hope thickened the air they breathed. He took another sip of his coffee and vowed he wouldn’t make it easy for her.

  “So, what were you and Macy starting to argue about earlier?”

  “Nothing, Graham.” This wasn’t going the way she wanted it to, and he was glad for that. “I just thought she ran behind, but we worked it out. Like you told us to,” she added.

  “Good. You two are sisters, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out what the heck you’d have to argue about. You’re the luckiest set of carrier siblings here. In fact, you’re the only set of carrier siblings I know of, so far, so be thankful.” He wondered what else he could yammer on about to keep her true intentions at bay.

  “The only other carrier blood relatives we’re familiar with are Dalton and Mark. They’re cousins and, of course, Dalton isn’t a carrier,” he rambled on. He wasn’t ready for the conversation he knew she was coming to talk about. The longer he held her off, the better.

  She rolled her eyes finally and said, “I know, Graham! I’ll talk to you later,” and then stomped back to the cabin.

  Graham took another sip and couldn’t help but chuckle. This parenting thing was a pain in the ass, with fifteen- going on sixteen-year-old twin girls. At least he’d managed to hold her off one more time.

  After mooning eyes at one another for months now, he suspected she and Mark were getting closer each day, but Graham and Tala felt th
ey needed to wait at least another two years. At only sixteen going on seventeen, Mark had a lot to learn before he became a husband.

  Ennis looked at it differently; he’d lived in an era when early marriage was commonplace, and to see fifteen-year-olds married off wasn’t unusual. He argued that these were strange times, and if they were committed to one another, then that was fine with him. Graham and Tala decided Mark and Marcy could wait until she was at least eighteen. This would give them enough time to teach the two as much as they could.

  Pregnancy presented another problem altogether. Clarisse warned them all about the possible risk of the virus affecting a fetus and mother. So far, none of the prepper community had become pregnant, so Clarisse hadn’t been faced with the issue head-on. Graham and Tala took precautions on the few times they managed to be intimate, purely because they were scared of the outcome. Tala had already miscarried once, and Graham wasn’t about to put her through that again since there was no assurance that a child would make it to term. There was no way of knowing the virus’s effects until afterward.

  Graham finished his cup, pulled on his gloves, and went back to work. By the time he pulled the second hide free, the sun had long deserted him, and he had managed by spotlight alone. A moment later, Tala called him in for supper. “Give me a little more time to put this on the frame. I’ll be in soon,” he called to her.

  Stretching the hides over the frames didn’t take him long to complete, especially with his stomach growling after a hard day’s work.