“I came to apologize,” he finally said. “My grandma gave me the wrong impression about you. I didn’t realize you were datin’ somebody.”
It took her a second to realize what he meant. In spite of the weather, her cheeks flushed. She buried her hands in her holey coat pockets. It was crazy people still put her with Oliver. In his late thirties—or however old Oliver was—he was beyond her age or interest. He rarely looked her in the eye, not to mention an officer of the law could never respect an illegal citizen, let alone date them.
“I’m not dating Oliver, if that’s what you mean. We’re just friends. But thank you for apologizing.”
“You’re not? You sure?”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “I think I would know.”
His thick brows pulled down. “Look, I’m not an idiot. If you wanna play that game and pretend like nothin’s goin’ on, fine. I won’t tell anybody.”
“I’m not dating Oliver! Or playing games or whatever you think I’m doing. Oliver and I aren’t romantically involved.” She grimaced without meaning to, but it was too weird. “We’re just friends.”
“You sure?”
It took a moment before she could answer calmly. “Yes.”
Immediately, Greg stiffened. “Then let me reiterate what I said before. I’m not interes—”
“No need to repeat yourself,” she interrupted. “I’m not interested in you either.”
He eyed her a long minute before nodding. “Good. Keep it that way.”
* * * * *
Carrie couldn’t let it go. For the rest of the week and into the next she ran circles around those four words: Keep it that way. As if Greg was so attractive, she’d have to restrain herself. It bugged her. Then it bugged her that it bugged her because deep down at the root of it was insecurity. She hated feeling insecure, but having the first single guy in five years come along and tell her he wasn’t interested in her—repeatedly—started to mess with her head.
Amber, gossip girl that she was, made sure to give Carrie a running report on Greg’s daily whereabouts. Carrie didn’t have the heart to tell her sister that she didn’t care one bit what Greg Pierce did with his time. Hunting? Fine. Helping Richard O’Brien repair siding? Good for him. More hunting—Do you know he hunts with a slingshot, Carrie?—Who cares? She didn’t.
She threw herself into planning the spring crops. Technically the Watsons were in charge of the oversized garden behind the Trenton’s, but knowing how much Carrie loved it, they relinquished part of the responsibility to her. Since CJ wouldn’t let her plant peas or lettuce outside yet—stupid Greg—she had to content herself with the next best thing.
In her brightly lit family room, she bent down and inspected the thirty miscellaneous cups and old sour cream containers. She had planted the seeds inside four days ago, and nothing had sprouted yet. But they would any day. Pear tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, Roma tomatoes—she really liked tomatoes—a few peppers, and some badly needed onions. All would be flourishing in her family room soon.
Using an old hairspray bottle, she sprayed a fine mist of water over her thirty babies. The water sparkled in the light shining through the window. The sunshine called to her. It was a beautiful day.
Purposely leaving her coat behind, she headed for Jenna Kovach’s, ready to get Zach’s hair out of his eyes once and for all.
As she wandered down the sidewalk, her mind drifted from vegetables to flowers. One of the empty homes had an overgrown forsythia bush, and she crossed the lawn to check the nearest branch for buds. Not even close. According to her mom, she shouldn’t plant peas until the forsythias bloomed.
Then again, she reasoned, rules are made to be broken. That thought cheered her the rest of the way to Jenna’s.
Knocking the clan pattern on the Kovach’s door, she stood back. Soft footsteps pattered inside, and Little Jeffrey peeked out the side window, squishing his face to the glass.
Carrie waved. She adored that kid. Little Jeffrey opened the front door and held up a fist toward her.
She bent down. “What did you find today?”
“A cenipededed,” Jeffrey said proudly.
She cringed. “A centipede?”
He opened his chubby fingers. Surprisingly still alive, the insect began the rhythmic crawling movements on Jeffrey’s little palm. Watching the hundred legs gave her the jitters, but he broke into a big, toothy grin. “See?”
Though she shouldn’t have a favorite kid in the clan, Little Jeffrey had Jenna’s Italian coloring with dark, curly hair and deep brown eyes. He was a thinker, even at three years old. Ironically, his parents were the most bitter of all the clansmen. Jeff Sr. had been a successful lawyer while Jenna had been runner-up to Miss Illinois. They’d fallen far in the Collapse and made sure everyone knew it. Yet Little Jeffrey grinned down at his “cenipededed” as if all was well in the world.
She tousled his dark curls. “Where’s your mom?”
“Mommy sleep,” he said, his face close to his bug.
Jonah, the younger of the Kovach boys, stood at the top of the stairs in a shirt two sizes too big, sucking his thumb.
Carrie lowered her voice. “Can I talk to your daddy, then?”
“Daddy bye-bye,” Little Jeffrey said.
Then who was watching the boys?
“Jenna?” she called. Jonah scooted down the steps backward and came toddling into her arms. She gave him a squeeze and called more loudly, “Jenna?”
No answer.
Carrie panicked. “Where’s your mom, Jeffrey?”
He pointed past the kitchen. “Mommy sleep.”
Setting Jonah on her hip, she walked down the hall into the two-story great room. Sure enough, Jenna was sound asleep on the dirty carpet, Dr. Seuss book in one hand and a partially finished quilt cradled in the other.
Carrie bent down and shook her gently. “Jenna?”
Startled, Jenna sat up and looked around. “Carrie? How did you get in?”
“Little Jeffrey. Are you okay?”
Jenna looked at her two boys. She raked her fingers through her dark hair that had once been the envy of most women, and now was a tangled, frizzy mess. Jonah wiggled out of Carrie’s arms to push a car around on the carpet. Carrie sat next to Jenna on the floor, thoughts of Zach’s haircut pushed aside. Something wasn’t right. Jenna’s skin was too white. Too pale.
“Are you sick?” Carrie asked.
Shaking her head, Jenna buried her face in her hands and started crying.
Carrie’s heart stopped.
“What happened? Did Jeff get hurt? One of the boys? Are they not well?” Although they both looked fine.
Jenna kept shaking her head as the tears poured.
The answer—or at least partial answer—came when she grabbed a nearby pot and emptied the contents of her stomach into it.
Carrie’s hands flew over her nose, but it was too late. The smell of vomit always took her back to that horrible November and her dying mother. She jumped up, ran into the kitchen, and wet a rag in the water bucket. Then she brought it back to Jenna who was still crying.
Jenna wiped her mouth. In between shuddering breaths, she said, “I’m pregnant, Carrie.”
“Oh.” That’s all she could think to say.
Little Jeffrey and Jonah sat wide-eyed, watching their mom have an emotional breakdown. Carrie couldn’t explain why Jenna was upset. A long time ago pregnancy was something joyful and happy. And now…
“How far along?” Carrie asked.
“I don’t know. Not very. What am I going to do?”
Carrie rubbed her back, hoping to calm her down before she threw up again. Once was bad enough. “It’ll be okay. This is exciting news. A baby! Congratulations!”
It was like Jenna hadn’t even heard.
“Jeff’s freaking out,” she said. “I mean, look at me. This baby will be here in winter. I can’t even keep myself warm, let alone a baby. What about food? How do I feed another mouth? And more clothes? And, and�
��” Her words started to slur. “And another bed, and…”
Carrie had a bigger concern. The birth itself. They almost lost Jenna after Jonah. The bleeding wouldn’t stop. Without a doctor or midwife, they were helpless to fate. They needed someone if she was going to survive another birth. Anyone with medical experience, which none of the clansmen had. But she kept those thoughts to herself. That was a long way off.
“Don’t worry about all that,” Carrie said. “Right now, you just take care of yourself and this little one. And start thinking of another ‘J’ name.” She smiled. “Maybe this one will be a girl.”
Jenna’s eyes lifted. She watched her two boys for a long time. “What am I going to do? I can’t keep anything down. I can’t stay awake. I can’t clean or cook or do anything.” Her head dropped to her knees. “We should just go back to the municipality.”
Carrie stiffened. “You don’t mean that.” She couldn’t.
“Why not? Food, doctors, and heat. Sounds pretty good to me.”
And fences, curfews, and police brutality, Carrie added silently.
Thinking fast she said, “What if I take the boys right now so you can sleep? When does Jonah take his nap?”
“After lunch.”
“Okay. I’ll take them now and bring Jonah back for his nap. In fact,” Carrie said, “I could start taking the boys after I teach school each day. I could feed them lunch and when Jonah takes his nap, Little Jeffrey could stay and play. That would give you a chance to rest.”
Jenna wiped her eyes. “Even weekends? You would do that?”
Carrie meant just school days. Her weekends were crammed with other chores—namely the garden—but she smiled anyway. “Sure. Amber and Zach will love an excuse to get out of their chores.”
Jonah was busy with his rusty little car, but Little Jeffrey watched his mom, looking incredibly grave for one so small.
“What do you say, Jeffrey?” Carrie said. “Do you want to play with me and Zach?”
His big, brown eyes never left his mom until she nodded her consent. Then a tiny smile broke through. “Can I bwing my bug?” he asked.
Carrie smiled. “You bet.”
eleven
AMBER STOOD BY THE front door, arms folded and foot tapping. Carrie and the little Kovach boys barely made it inside before she started in.
“Why do you keeping doing that?” Amber snapped.
Carrie had the gall to look surprised. “Doing what?”
“Leaving me alone with Oliver. I can’t stand that guy!”
Carrie glanced out the front window as if her puppy dog’s patrol car would still be there. “Is it Thursday already?”
“Yes! What took you so long anyway? You said you’d be right back.”
“Sorry. When I went to get the boys, Jenna’s kitchen was a mess, and she hadn’t made bread in a few days, and…” Carrie sighed. “She’s not doing well. She keeps talking about going back to Aurora.”
“Maybe she should,” Amber said.
Carrie’s head whipped up. “What?”
“Never mind.”
As Carrie took off her coat, Amber noticed she wore the new clothes Oliver had left her two weeks ago: a purple and gray striped shirt and jeans which fit her amazingly well. Creepy. The guy knew her jean size? Of course, Oliver did it all under the cover of Zach’s birthday. How nice for Carrie. Zach, too, who had a new red t-shirt to call his own. Technically none of the clothes were brand new, but they were a hundred times better than the ratty stuff Amber wore. Carrie insisted Oliver had bought them at some second-hand store instead of acquiring them in a raid. Right. If that was the case, why hadn’t he picked up something for Amber? Because he hated her, that’s why.
Well, Amber thought, the feeling’s mutual.
Carrie took off the boys’ jackets. “Are you guys ready for lunch?”
Little Jeffrey and Jonah answered by running into the kitchen as fast as their miniature legs could go. Amber followed and leaned against the counter as Carrie started slicing up a loaf of bread.
“So, what did Oliver have to say today?” Carrie asked.
“I don’t remember.” Amber snatched the first slice. “Why can’t he give the report to someone else each week? Why you?”
“You know how shy he is. I’ll try to be home next Thursday, but Jenna really needed me today. You can understand that, can’t you?”
Carrie always used the Jenna excuse now. Amber hated it.
“Then let Sasha watch the boys,” Amber said. “She’s always wanted kids. Maddie told me she’s mad because Jenna keeps getting pregnant and Sasha can’t. So let Sasha take them. All she does is sit around and complain anyway.”
“Amber…” Carrie said in the tone of a tired mother. Only Carrie wasn’t her mom, and it bugged the heck out of Amber when she pretended like she was.
She broke off pieces of bread and plopped them in her mouth. “I think Oliver was madder than I was that you weren’t here.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. Oliver’s always very nice to you.”
“Whatever.” Amber pointed to the purple-striped shirt. “Plus, it’s painful listening to him. Not only could I not hear a single thing he said, he kept apologizing every other word.”
“Apologizing? For what?”
Before Amber could answer, Jonah pounded a fist on the table. “Bah-bah.”
“You want a drink, Jonah?” Carrie asked. “Amber, will you get the boys some water?”
Amber winced. “Uh…we’re kind of out of water.” Then she braced herself for the rebuke that was sure to follow.
Carrie stopped slicing and turned. It wasn’t exactly a glare, but it was as close as Carrie came to one. “I thought I said—”
“I know, I know,” Amber cut in. “I was talking to Oliver, remember?”
“Bah-bah,” Jonah said again.
“Jonah wanna dwink,” Little Jeffrey informed them, as if they were hard of hearing.
Carrie spread butter on a slice of bread and took it over to the table. She crouched down in front of Jonah. “Amber will get you some water in a minute, Jonah. How about you eat your bread first.”
Jonah squeezed the bread, oozing butter between his fingers, and flung it, butter-side down, on the floor. “Bah-bah!”
The second time Carrie looked at Amber was most definitely a glare.
“I’ll go get some water now,” Amber relented.
But at the same time, Little Jeffrey hopped off his chair and ran to the front door. He grabbed something from a bag and was back at Carrie’s side in a second with a bottle of goat’s milk.
“Oh,” Carrie said. “Is this what you wanted, Jonah?”
Jonah began chugging it down. Amber figured that bought her a few minutes, so she picked up her bread and broke off more pieces. She hated the water chores. Not only did she have to keep the kitchen buckets filled, and their bathroom one as well, but ever since Greg showed up, Carrie wouldn’t let them take baths at the Trenton’s anymore, which meant Amber had to work twice as hard and was twice as smelly.
Carrie got down on her hands to mop up the mess. “So…what was Oliver apologizing for?”
“There’s a raid this week,” Amber said. “He can’t come.”
“He can’t?” Carrie sat back on her heels with a sigh. “Great. When is it?”
Amber’s mind went suddenly blank. At the time, she hadn’t been listening all that well, just counting the seconds until the nerd left, which took for-e-ver. Oliver tried to stall—not so subtly—in hopes that Carrie would show up. Little did he know that Carrie was literally the only person on earth who liked talking about the weather.
“Amber?” Carrie said.
“Saturday, I think.”
“You think?”
“Yeah,” Amber said with more certainty. “It’s Saturday.”
“Did he say when?”
“He said it’s Saturday! Man, are you deaf?”
Carrie scowled. “I meant, what time will the patrolmen come thro
ugh the neighborhood? You don’t have to be rude.”
“Oh. Oliver said the raid would be—”
“Sweep,” Carrie corrected.
“Whatever!” Amber snapped. “He said the raid would be some time during the night.”
Carrie brushed the hair from her face. “Okay. To be safe, we should tell everyone to meet at the Trenton’s after lunch Saturday and plan on staying until Sunday morning. Would you go around and let everyone know?”
“No!” Amber’s day was going from bad to worse. “Have you seen how windy it is out there? I’m already cold.”
“It’s not that bad. Please? I told Jenna I’d put Jonah down here for his nap today. Oh, and Zach has some eggs that didn’t get to everyone, so you can take them around at the same time.”
Amber put her hands on her hips. “And where’s Zach when I’m doing his jobs?”
“He and Tucker are hunting rabbits with Ron. Besides…” Carrie motioned to the empty bucket. “You owe me.”
Right.
Stupid water.
Instantly, Amber went from seething to scheming. “If I take the eggs around, then can I hang out with Lindsey and Maddie”—and their dreamy older brother—“for the rest of the afternoon?”
“I guess. As long as you get water on your way home.”
Amber ran over and gave Carrie a quick hug. “Thanks, sis.”
After a vigorous sprint around the neighborhood, Amber spent the afternoon on the Ziegler’s floor, studying some old People magazines. Maddie Ziegler was a year older than her; Lindsey, a year younger. The three girls had been best friends as long as Amber could remember, but recently she’d found a new favorite Ziegler:
Braden.
Keeping one eye on the torn magazine, Amber looked up. Braden locked gazes with her, and the jar of cream in his hand stopped shaking. Just as she’d hoped, he’d been watching her.
His sand-colored hair was sculpted to perfection, waving in all the right spots, and his beard was short but super manly. She still couldn’t believe she had caught his attention after all these years. Maybe she was leaving the worst of the awkward years behind her, or maybe he finally considered her old enough to notice. Whatever the reason, she had his full attention now.
Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set Page 8
