“Carrie Lynn Perdue,” Fenton stopped the beginning tirade dead in its tracks, “You have been a right large pain in the patoot recently. If you were Joseph’s age, I’d send you to your room and tell you to come out when you had a new attitude. As it is, I don’t know what to say to you, ‘ceptin to shut it and get yourself away ‘til you got a civil tongue in your mouth.”
Carrie sat there, tears forming in her eyes, opened and shut her mouth like she was about to say something, then stood up, knocking her chair back with a crash, and bolted from the room down the hall to her bedroom. Everyone sat in shock for a moment, Joseph wide-eyed, and they stared down the now-empty hall.
“Gramps!” Liza looked devastated, “You made her cry!” Chris held himself back from pointing out that everything nowadays made her cry. She’d cried the last time they made love, she’d cried over burning bread, and she’d cried a river when they’d slaughtered Butt Roast even though that damned pig had bit her twice just the month before.
Fenton looked a bit chagrined, but said nothing as he finished his pork sandwich and licked the barbecue sauce off his fingers. He stood up, leaned over and picked up Carrie’s chair and then took hold of her plate.
“I’ll go talk to her. Joseph, you get the rest of the dishes to the sink. Liza, Chris, you best get on your way. Take the buggy it will be quicker and it gets dark ‘bout five these days. Y’all want to get back before it’s too dark to see anything.”
Liza had a stack of books ready to go by the door. She pulled on a coat and shoved half of the stack into Chris’s arms once he had finished zipping his coat. Outside they quickly loaded up the wrapped pieces of pork haunch they wanted to use for trade. They didn’t need much in the way of staples right now, but Chris had a very specific present in mind for this visit.
He had seen the ring at the Trade Mart two weeks ago when they were there stocking up for the winter. It wasn’t your typical wedding ring of diamonds and gold. Instead, what had struck him and drawn him in was the amazing color of green of the emerald set in the center. It was a square cut emerald, with four fair-sized diamonds, two on each side, set in a white gold band.
The emerald’s color was a rich, forest green. He had gazed at it and felt as if he were staring into Carrie’s eyes. Her eye color changed, depending on her mood, from an almost lime green when she was mad to the deep forest green of the emerald right after they made love.
It seemed that lately, all he had seen was the lime green, which snapped with lightning and fire.
When Liza broke the silence he realized they had already left the farm far behind. “You’re getting the ring today, right?” She was the only one he had confided in, mainly because she had seen him talking with the woman who owned it while Carrie was deep in bargaining for flour and sugar with one of the other town folk. The old woman had elicited the promise from him that he build a new chicken coop and bring her ten pounds of pork and five laying hens in the spring in exchange for the ring. The coop would be easy, and she had agreed to wait for another month for that. But the ‘deposit’ on the ring was the pork and he aimed to deliver it in time to pick up the ring and give it to Carrie for Christmas.
“Yeah, I’m getting the ring.”
He paused, thinking about Carrie’s incredible mood swings lately. Well mainly they had swung between depressed to irritable, and sometimes plain insane.
“Liza, do you think something’s wrong with Carrie? I mean, do you think she still wants to marry me?”
The teenager snorted, “Are you kidding? Carrie loves you. And you love her. If anything, I’ll bet she’s just wondering why you haven’t gotten around to asking her yet.”
“But I did. At the end of September. I asked her and she said yes.” Liza’s neck snapped towards him so quickly he was afraid she had whiplash.
“You asked Carrie to marry you?” Her hands had gone slack on the reins but the horse plodded on. They were almost to the site of the burned out Western Front trucks and not too far from town. Ichabod knew the way by heart.
“Well yeah. And she said yes, but I didn’t have a ring then. I’ve been looking for one, and...” His voice faded weakly away in the face of yet another angry Perdue woman.
“Have you two, you know, done it?” Liza asked, looking angry and a tiny bit scared.
“Well...umm...yeah.”
“When? How often? Did you use protection?” The questions came hard and fast and Chris felt like he was talking to his mother, not a fourteen year old girl. This was crazy, why had he even said anything?
Now she was going to be mad at him too and he didn’t know what the hell he had done wrong this time either.
“Liza...I’m not...I shouldn’t be talking about this with you.”
“Christopher Michael Aaronson,” now she sounded like Fenton, “Just answer the damned question.”
Jesus, he seemed to be in for it again. “September, around harvest time. When your Gramps got hurt in the barn. And well, a couple times since,” that was a terrible understatement, “and do you see any protection around here?”
He had even checked with the Trade Mart, carefully of course, to see if he could trade for condoms. No such luck and the pharmacy, what was left of the burned out shell, was laughable.
“Shit.”
“What?!” He was getting frustrated, and pissed. Both of them on his ass, ripping his head off and shitting down his neck, damn but...
“Carrie is pregnant.” Chris’s mind went blank. They passed the lookouts and Liza collected herself enough to wave at them and jostled Chris to do the same. He put up a hand and waved woodenly, his mind completely and totally overwhelmed. Pregnant? Pregnant! Oh God, pregnant.
iza spoke again, “And worse yet, Gramps is talking to her right now. Sure as anything, it will come out and he’ll just shoot you before he bothers askin’ questions.” She shook her head, “Damn Chris, I thought you were smarter than that.” She patted his leg, “Been nice knowing you.”
“Oh, thanks so much for the vote of confidence,” he replied sarcastically, and his bowels twisted.
She grinned at him then, “Now when you see the shotgun, run, I’ll try and buy you some time, maybe a few hundred yards, enough to make it to the tree line. And remember, avoid the lake, we know you don’t do well out there.” She was grinning now, obviously remembering how they had found him, laid up with a broken ankle after taking a fall in the bog they still insisted on calling a lake.
“Ha, ha, ha, geez Liza, you are just so damn funny.” He glared at her, his mind still reeling. He sobered, “Do you really think she’s pregnant?”
They were nearly in town and he said it quietly, under his breath in case anyone heard their conversation. There were a few folks walking, wrapped up like it was an arctic winter, rather than a cool thirty degrees out.
Liza nodded, with a smirk, “Oh yeah. I remember Mom getting that way when she got pregnant with Joseph. Had Dad running scared until they both figured out what the hell was going on. Dad had a vasectomy after I was born, so it didn’t even dawn on them what was happening until she was a few months along. So much for a vasectomy being foolproof. Did you know that shit can grow back? Anyway, Carrie’s never been what you’d call regular with her periods, so if she knows, she’s just now figured it out.”
“Why wouldn’t she tell me, though?” Chris protested, “I mean, we love each other. I’m not going anywhere, I want to marry her, and I figured eventually that also meant having babies with her.” He stopped then, imagining Carrie’s stomach swelling full and round, thought of the child growing inside and months from now, the feel of a tiny baby nestled in his arms. Blond hair, and would her eyes be blue like his or green like Carrie’s? For some reason he couldn’t imagine a boy, only a girl. A girl who could wrap his heart around her little finger, and...
“Hell Chris, I don’t know why she wouldn’t tell you. Maybe she’s scared. There aren’t any hospitals nearby. I mean I know I’ve been studying, but I’m not a full-on doctor.
Hell I’m not even a midwife.
And maybe she’s afraid you don’t want kids, that you won’t love her if she goes and gets fat.”
“Pregnant isn’t fat. Pregnant is beautiful.” He said it forcefully, and a bit louder than he intended, one woman looked at them curiously as they passed.
“Oh Chris,” Liza sighed. Chris made Carl look like such an idiot, and she liked Carl, a lot. Chris had a way of making everyone feel special, loved, and accepted. She smiled up at him.
“Just get the ring. We’ll go back home and it will all work out, you’ll see. She loves you and you love her. Despite all of Gramps’ tough words, he approves of you. He knows you love Carrie as much as he does.”
She pulled on the reins and stopped the horse. They were a block from the Trade Mart. “I’m going to Carl’s, I’ll meet you in an hour at the Trade Mart.” She slipped down out of the seat after handing Chris the reins.
As the buggy pulled away, Liza called after him, “Don’t get into trouble!” He just waved at her in dismissal. For only being fourteen years old, the girl was already a mother hen. It seemed to run in the family.
The Trade Mart was busy, and the street was full of town folk. There was barely room for Ichabod to be strapped to the bike rack, but he managed to find a spot that required a bit of a squeeze. The horse wasn’t going anywhere until he was done.
Chris stopped by the hardware store and dropped off half of a sweet potato pie that Carrie and Liza had made the night before for Mr. Liles. The ancient man was close to entering his 106th year, which blew Chris’s mind. Most of the old man’s teeth were gone so sweet potato pie was right up his alley.
The bent and fragile old man had visited the farm twice in the summer, but the onset of winter slowed him down and confined him to town. He was a bit of a celebrity, considering his advanced age, and the rest of the town folk pitched in to keep him fed and warm in his little apartment above the hardware store. He spent a few minutes talking with the old man, relayed Fenton and the rest of the family’s greetings and promised to bring chicken soup on his next visit. One of the chickens wasn’t producing eggs as much as she used to, it was time to make way for other younger layers. Old Otis loved Carrie’s homemade chicken noodle soup and asked about it whenever they visited, no matter the weather. He said his goodbyes and headed toward the Trade Mart.
As he walked in the door he saw a familiar, unwelcome face – Wes Perkins. The man had added another knife to his collection, he was practically his own armory with two long hunting knives, a short tiny curved knife in a sheath, and today he was sporting what looked like a .44 Magnum and the ubiquitous rifle he carried with him everywhere.
At least this time Chris didn’t feel so under-dressed for the occasion. Carrie had given him a ruggedly wicked hunting knife the month of their ‘anniversary.’ He had been embarrassed that he hadn’t remembered and didn’t have something to give her in return. It was probably the lack of gift or remembering that it had been exactly one month since they made love for the first time that had started the emotional roller coaster they had been on ever since. He also had begun carrying a M1911, a .45 caliber, well-maintained pistol that Fenton had used in Vietnam.
There had been reports of isolated attacks by deserters or small bands of men. They were usually in search of food or ammunition. They would sneak in, take what they wanted and usually leave without engaging the locals, but one girl had been raped and another older couple had been killed. Both attacks had occurred within the last month. Fenton had made sure everyone, except for Joseph, was armed at all times, around the farm or off the property. Chris met Wes’s unfriendly stare with an equally calm one. He would stand his ground, and fuck Wes if he didn’t like it.
Wes began to move forward and intercept Chris. He probably wanted to stop him from entering the Trade Mart. But Mrs. Jennings had spied him at that moment and called across the store, gesturing for him to come and see her. She smiled at him and he ignored Wes and strode over.
“Christopher! How are you?”
Not everyone in the town was an asshole like Perkins. Alice Jennings was a widower, with no children. She was also Tiptonville’s librarian.
She looked around, “Where’s Liza? I have a book for her.”
“She’ll be here soon, Miz Jennings.” He gave her a light hug, “She’s visiting a friend.”
Alice sighed, “I imagine it’s that Owens boy. Ah, young love. A bit of a nerd, but then, so is Liza, bless that child. I found a book for her that will fill in her education nicely.”
She reached back to a shelf and pulled out the book, “Here it is, ‘Epidemiology: Beyond the Basics.’” She started to hand it to him.
“She’ll be here soon, Miz Jennings, would you like to give it to her yourself?”
“Oh yes, dear, that will be fine. In fact,” she nodded, shelving the book, “I really need to check if she is ready to move away from obstetrics or if she was interested in advanced surgical procedures next.”
She stared at him for a moment, and he waited patiently, “Oh dear, I’m sorry, you want the ring, don’t you dear?”
“Yes ma’am, I brought the piece you asked for,” he handed the neatly wrapped pork section over to her. “And I can come by after Christmas and start on the coop.”
Her eyes lit up, “Oh Christopher, it’s far more meat then I had asked for! Are you sure?” She was thin, and Chris wondered if she ate much meat at all these days.
“Fenton wrapped it and sends his regards. He sure appreciates all you’ve been doing for Liza.” The old man had been impressed with the large tomes of medical information that Liza was slowly absorbing and discussing. His forehead wound had been sutured so neatly that there was only a tiny reddish scar that remained.
“Oh it is nice to have such an apt pupil. Liza is quite a brilliant young woman, you know.” At that moment, Liza appeared at his elbow.
“Well thanks, Miz Jennings!” She immediately spied the book on epidemiology. Alice had partially shelved it, but it was sticking out prominently from the rest, “Oh my, you found the epidemiology book!”
Her eyes sparkled. Most girls would look like that over a new dress or shoes, but Liza was not like most girls. Alice handed her the book and the girl thumbed through the table of contents with intense interest, “Ooh, multiple regression techniques...and it has an appendix for the test of homogeneity of stratified estimates!” She looked up and grinned at Chris and Alice, “This is perfect! Thank you!”
“Careful there, Liza, your inner geek is showing.”
Her grin turned to a glare. Alice finally remembering what Chris had been so patiently waiting for reached into her pockets and pulled out a small box.
“Christopher dear, I shined it up for you.” She handed the box over. It was brown leather, worn in spots, “I tried to find a box to put it in, dear, and I’m sorry, this is the best I could find.”
Liza gasped as he opened the box. The emerald and diamonds were blindingly brilliant. “A little toothpaste and water is all it took.” Alice’s voice sounded a bit misty, Chris was too distracted by the ring to notice the woman’s tears, but Liza did, and put her hand on the old woman’s arm. Larry Jennings had died nearly two years ago, and Alice still missed him terribly.
Chris stared at the ring, everything inside of him churning. God, he hoped she liked it. What if she didn’t? What if she wanted something more traditional? Liza’s voice reassured his fears, “Chris, it’s beautiful. It matches her eyes exactly!” He looked over at the girl and relaxed. If Liza, a geeky, sci-fi and epidemiology textbook-loving non-girly girl thought it was beautiful, then it had to be special.
Chris knew a lot of things. He knew about war and fighting, he knew hard work and how to fix leaks and raise crops. He knew football. But he was absolutely sure of his own ignorance when it came to women’s jewelry. He also had no idea that, if this part of the world had still run on cold hard cash, he would have had to fork over a lot of it. He was holding a ring worth nearly $5,
000.
He didn’t know that Alice Jennings had been given the ring by her mother. He didn’t realize how special the ring was to the old woman or even that the emerald that was mounted in the ring was her birthstone.
Chris only knew that it had spoken to him, reminded him of Carrie’s eyes after they made love or kissed or laughed. He desperately hoped Carrie would like it and that Fenton wouldn’t shoot him before he had a chance to give it to her. He smiled at Alice Jennings, “Thank you ma’am, thank you so much.”
She smiled in return and patted his cheek softly, “You are welcome, young Christopher. Do bring her in after you’ve given it to her, I would so like to see it on her hand.”
“Yes, ma’am, I will.” They said their goodbyes and headed towards the exit. Chris had snapped the box shut and put it away carefully in his jacket. He was in the process of zipping the coat when Wes Perkins stepped into his path.
“Maybe you should watch where you’re going, soldier.” Wes stood a good half of a head taller and smelled dangerous. It was a sharp, gunpowder and oil scent. He was close, purposely so, he stood inside Chris’s personal space and it was an obvious challenge. Chris felt Liza’s hand settle on his sleeve.
“We need to be getting back home now, Mr. Perkins.” She said it with a level voice, but there was a slight tremor in her hand. She was afraid for Chris. Around them there was a lull in conversation. Chris could feel a dozen sets of eyes, watching and saying nothing.
Wes ignored Liza, he glared at Chris, tried to stare him down. Liza tugged on Chris’s arm, “C’mon, Chris. Let’s go.” She tugged on his sleeve firmly. Chris allowed her to pull him to the right and around Perkins, keeping eye contact until Liza jerked him insistently through the door and down the street.
“All right, all right, you can stop walking me like a dog on a leash, now.” He snapped at her irritably as she attempted to shove him up into the buggy. “I’m going already.” Liza’s face was pale.
“Let’s just get out of here. Now.” She was shaking.
The Storm: War's End, #1 Page 21
