The Storm: War's End, #1
Page 32
Quincy pulled it gently from her fingers and gratefully swallowed the delectable meat, staring at her mistress with a hopeful look, hoping for more. She wasn’t disappointed. David slipped a triangle of toast under the table to the hungry hound.
Farley looked even more disapproving. Jess was surprised this was even possible.
“Dogs use up limited resources.”
Her spine straightened and Jess stared the mayor square in the eye and said, “Quincy hunts for her own meals. Squirrels, rodents, sometimes a bird.” She broke a piece of bacon in half and handed it to her dog, “She’s helped feed us and she’s protected us too.”
Mr. Banks interceded again; he was sitting nearest to the dog, “Sounds like a fine hound, well worth keeping.”
The corners of Mayor Farley’s mouth turned down, but he said nothing.
After all, he thought, if the girl was fool enough to get herself knocked up, and take on more mouths to feed along her journey home, there really wasn’t much point in talking sense to her. Was there?
A bowl of oatmeal was set down in front of Jess and Mr. Banks introduced Sarah to Jess.
“Jessie, this here is Sarah Turner, one of our newest residents. She hails from back east, here with her two young ’uns for goin’ on a year now. They were caught in a tussle between the Western Front and the Washington Guard; barely made it out of St. Louis. And Sarah makes the best lemon meringue pie I’ve had since my wife passed on. God rest her soul.”
Sarah beamed with pride. “Not that we see many lemons these days, but I do manage to make a few each time we see a trader come from the Southern routes.” She turned her warm brown eyes on Jess, who had managed a bite of the oatmeal. “Is that better, dear?”
Jess swallowed, her stomach settling some and said, “Yes ma’am, thank you.”
“Call me Sarah.” She reached out and petted the top of Jacob’s head and then turned to look at David and Tina, both of whom had finished the food before them and were now running fingers along the plate to catch the last of the egg. Not a crumb had gone to waste.
“I would give you more, but that’s a lot of food to eat after not eating much for so long. You take it easy, now.” David nodded and thanked her.
Between bites of oatmeal, several in the crowd asked Jess questions about missing friends and loved ones. She shook her head no too many times to count. No, there was no one else she remembered seeing. Only Allen and Erin, but Erin and her family were dead, and she wasn’t going to speak of Allen publicly. That would wait for a private moment with Mr. Banks. He deserved to know what little she knew—but in private, away from all of these eyes and questions. Jess found herself wondering if coming here was a good idea. No Mom, no Dad, no Chris. And the way that stuffed shirt, that bank president turned mayor, Jonathan Farley kept eyeing Jacob—it made her angry. As if she had asked to have a baby. As if she could have stopped it.
Jacob began to fuss then, turning and nuzzling her shirt, picking up on her emotions and wanting reassurance, wanting food. He was just a baby, innocent and sweet. As her body responded to his need, the milk rushing into her breasts, she was filled with love for him. Never mind how he had been conceived, or the dark thoughts she had had about him while pregnant, walking those long miles with Erin. He was hers, and she loved him deeply. And wasn’t that as it should be?
Jacob pulled at her shirt, more insistent now, and Jess looked for an exit. She wasn’t going to breastfeed here, near this officious stuffed shirt and dozens of prying eyes. Her eyes met those of Sarah, who had seen the baby nuzzle at Jess’s shirt. Sarah slipped out from behind the counter and made a beeline for her.
“I think that Jess needs to rest a little, away from everyone,” she said diplomatically, “after such a difficult morning. There is a couch in the back, dear, why don’t you and the baby go in there and relax for a few minutes?”
Jess nodded gratefully, stood up, and let Sarah lead the way, the crowd opening for them.
Mayor Farley looked decidedly out of sorts. He had been in the middle of pressing for details on Erin and wasn’t satisfied with Jess’s short answer that she had died outside of Clinton. Jess suppressed a wave of anger; he hadn’t even remembered Erin either, only Erin’s brother Toby, who had been an Eagle Scout and the valedictorian of his graduating class. The mayor looked as if he wanted to follow Jess out of the room. He was the type who wasn’t used to being told “no”—and his recent elevation to mayor had made him even more pigheaded than normal. Sarah Turner had quelled him with a stern look as he began to stand up and follow and Farley had suppressed a desire to physically push her out of the way. She wasn’t even from Belton. But at that moment one of the townspeople had tugged on his sleeve and suggested he update the crowd outside. The mayor’s attention was successfully diverted to one of his favorite tasks: speaking authoritatively to crowds.
The back room was quite obviously where Sarah and her family lived. There was a large living and sleeping area and a candle gave them a dim light. Jacob was fussing, pulling at Jess’s shirt, insisting on being fed, now. Jess sat down on the couch, eased her shirt up and allowed the hungry infant to latch on. He made satisfied little grunts as he greedily sucked.
“Thank you, Sarah,” Jess said. “How did you know?”
Sarah just smiled, moving a small box with the letters SAP carved into it, and put it out of view.
“How did I know the crowd was too much, or that you needed to nurse? Women’s intuition, I guess.” She busied herself clearing a chair free of books before adding, “That Mayor Farley is a real butthead. Don’t you worry one second about what he thinks. He treated me the same when I showed up with two kids and ‘no man to care for me,’ is how he put it.” She rolled her eyes, “As I hear it, they let him be mayor just to shut him up. He was carrying on so about how we needed ‘structure and organization in this time of chaos.’” She grimaced. “I think it was because he just wanted to be able to tell others what to do.” She winked at Jess, “And get out of serving on regular patrol in the town militia, like the rest of us have to do. They even look to me to participate in the patrols, now that I’ve been here long enough to be trusted.”
Jess smiled in return, and relaxed for the first time since returning to her hometown. Belton was the same cozy little town she remembered, yet different. But then again, wasn’t everything? Everything had changed. Jess wondered if her home still stood, and whether they could go there, right away, because she wasn’t used to this, the people, the questions, the judgment. Not from everyone, obviously. Sarah was nice, and so was Mr. Banks. The militia leader, Todd Stevens, was young, maybe in his mid-20s, and he had seemed okay. Belton was organized, well-defended now, which was more than she could say for any of the other towns she had traveled near since this whole conflict began. Jess sighed. Perhaps, just perhaps, they were truly home and safe.
She closed her eyes and melted back into the couch, switched Jacob to the other breast, and barely cracked an eyelid open when Sarah led David and Tina in. They had been walking since daybreak, in the cold, with nothing but the hard biscuits to eat. But that wasn’t what pushed Jess into an exhausted sleep. It was all of the people, the questions, and the prying looks. There was that and the black disappointment—after all this, all the running, all the struggles—her dream of returning to her family, to her Mom, Dad, and Chris—to learn they had never returned was overwhelming. If they weren’t here, if they hadn’t made it back by now, then they really were all gone. That was the last thought she had as she succumbed to sleep, and it would be the first thought she had when she woke up two hours later.
You can purchase War’s End: A Brave New World by clicking on the link and choosing which device you would like to upload it to. To access more information on the Kapalaran Universe, and learn more about my other books, visit my website: http://christineshuck.com.
Acknowledgments
To Kate, Rachel, and Dori—my teachers at Independent Learning School who gave in to my endless complaints
about the dreadfully boring Warriner’s grammar books and just let me write. You saved my life and gave me a chance to fly.
To Dad who kept asking just “when in the hell” I was going to finish this book – well Dad, here it is.
To Mom who inspired the gardener in me and also passed on many thrifty tips that I have used to make ends meet during the ‘starving artist’ phase of this book. Love you, Mom!
To my girls, the eldest who helped shape the woman and mother that I have become and my youngest who remind me that life, love and happiness are found in the simple act of living and interacting with others. I love both of you and always will.
To Baby Bean – I mourn what could have been.
To Pat Whelan of the Anita B. Gorman Conservation Discovery Center in Kansas City for his amazing knowledge of wild, edible plants, the topography of Missouri, and his time and patience.
To Roger Renner, Firearms Consultant, who provided valuable advice in the manner of weaponry, ammunition and hunting strategy. You can learn more about Roger’s expertise by visiting his blog at www.underhammers.blogspot.com.
And finally to my husband David, who found me half a lifetime after high school and reminded me that hearts can and should heal. You have appeared in more of my ‘little stories’ then I ever realized and you have encouraged me to write in those dark moments when I doubted myself.
About the Author
Christine lives in an 1899 Victorian with far too many pets, smack dab in the middle of Historic Northeast Kansas City.
During the warm months, you will inevitably find her working on her half-acre fledgling urban farm - weeding, and expanding her herb and vegetable gardens. In the colder months you will find her inside, painting, creating art, installing curtains and planning her garden for spring. At all times you will find her writing, thinking about writing, or concocting new story ideas.
Christine and her husband are busy creating two themed Airbnb properties. You can learn more about those by visiting:
http://thecottagebb.com/
You can find more information by visiting her website and blog at:
http://christineshuck.com
All Published Works
Christine writes cross-genre and a complete listing of her books can be found at her website: http://christineshuck.com.
Non-Fiction:
Get Organized, Stay Organized – 2008
The War on Drugs: An Old Wives Tale – 2012
Fiction:
The Storm – 2010
A Brave New World – 2014
G581: The Departure – 2016
Schicksal Turnpike – 2018
Hired Gun - 2019
Page |
Don't miss out!
Click the button below and you can sign up to receive emails whenever Christine D. Shuck publishes a new book. There's no charge and no obligation.
https://books2read.com/r/B-A-BOLF-EBIU
Connecting independent readers to independent writers.