“Are you sure that’s the only reason?”
Greg rolled his eyes. Nobody could let it go. “If Carrie can just wait a bit to talk to Oliver, I figure we could be ready to live without him in two weeks—worst case scenario, maybe four. That’s assuming he walks away without ratting us out.”
“And best-case scenario?”
Greg took another bite of noodles. “Oliver and Carrie live happily ever after, as does the clan.”
That finally wiped the smile from Richard’s face. “I thought Carrie made her feelings abundantly clear at the meeting. She’s not interested in Oliver.”
“Oh, she did. You just asked for best case scenario.”
Richard shook his head. “For the life of me I can’t figure out what you have against that girl.”
“Nothin’.” At least not anymore.
“Then why aren’t you making a run for her yourself? If Jeff’s right, she’s seen something good in you.”
“Jeff’s not right.” Carrie hated him. He was ninety-eight percent sure—maybe ninety-seven. Then again, the way she’d reacted in that meeting…or during baseball…
Greg shook his head. Even if she’d liked him on some level for a short time, it hadn’t gone beyond the surface. Nice girls didn’t fall for jerks like him—or at least, they shouldn’t. She should know better. Everyone else did.
“Jeff could be right,” Richard said. “You’d be crazy to ignore the possibility. Carrie is about as perfect as they come.”
“Exactly,” Greg said.
Drove him nuts.
Richard gave him a strange look. “What’s wrong with perfection?”
Greg struggled with how to respond without slamming Carrie because, in all honesty, she’d grown on him. He liked her well enough. He even respected her. But that’s a far as it went.
“Different people define perfection differently,” he said. “I prefer the less-than-perfect type, you know? The human type. The un-squashable kind.” Like the girl he’d left behind, although not exactly that either. Nicole was too hard, too untouchable—obviously. He was still ticked Sasha had brought up his old girlfriend in the meeting. He’d never told a soul about her, which meant his mom had. So much for promises.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a bit odd?” Richard said.
Greg laughed. “More times than you’d guess.”
They grew quiet again, eating and watching out the dark window.
“Actually,” Greg said, “the best-case scenario is for citizens—not just cardholders, but real citizens—to band together, decide they’ve had enough of these emergency laws and overthrow the new regime.”
“True. But collective revolution requires some means of communication. We don’t even communicate with clans a mile away. It could be a third world war out there, and we wouldn’t know it.”
“So you’re reconsidering my fourth proposal?” Greg asked hopefully. “You ready to branch out to other clans?”
Richard smiled through his gray goatee. “Nice try. Without electricity, technology, newspapers, or even snail-mail you could never pull enough people together to revolt. Until you find a way around the communication barrier, people are stuck forever. How convenient for…who’s the president again?”
“Still Rigsby. His eight years are up, but he’s not goin’ anywhere. You should see his picture on the new currency.” Greg pulled a face. “Ugly guy.”
“Did you read the New Day Times yet?” Richard asked. “You would think he had created the world’s first utopian society from the way they talk.”
“Don’t need to,” Greg said. “I got enough of that propaganda pounded into me in Raleigh.”
“You should read it—and don’t tell your mom I said that—but you can’t fight what you don’t know.”
Greg turned. “Who said I’m fightin’? I’m just flappin’ my jaws to pass the time.”
He glanced back out the window, realizing he was watching his food more than the road. Again. He was far too comfortable in this clan. They all were. Security was a dangerous thing. It made people lazy.
“Speaking of your mom…” Richard set his dinner aside. “While I have you here, Greg, I hoped to ask you something.”
Greg took another bite of yellow mush, finally keeping an eye on the road. “Yeah?”
“Actually, I hoped to ask her something. A question.”
“What question?”
“The question.” Only instead of saying the, Richard said thee.
Greg turned slowly.
Richard’s goatee split into a wide grin. “I want to ask your mom to marry me.”
thirty-two
GREG’S FORK SPLATTERED to the ground. “What? You barely know her!”
Richard laughed and picked up Greg’s fork. “I should have predicted that. I know her well enough. Your mom is a wonderful woman. Amazing cook, too.”
As the implications sunk in, Greg shot to his feet, dropping his plate of mush as well. “You can’t. There are things you don’t know about her, things she hasn’t told anybody—not even my grandparents. It’s, it’s…” He wanted to say more, but he’d been sworn to secrecy. “It’s complicated. You can’t marry her. It’s not right.”
Richard studied him with an unreadable expression. “She already told me, Greg. But it doesn’t change anything. I still want to marry her.”
Greg couldn’t believe it. His mom broke their pact without telling him. Another promise broken. This one was her secret, but still…
He started to pace, hands running over his hair.
“How can it not change anything?”
Richard knelt down and scraped the mush out of the carpet. “I’m old, Greg. I’m no longer living for the future. I’d like to enjoy the present. Quite honestly, I don’t want to be alone anymore. I love your mom and amazingly, she loves me, too.”
Greg couldn’t even think straight to apologize for Richard’s carpet. His mom had told Richard about her. Richard knew. And he still wanted to marry her.
“But I don’t even know how much time she’s got,” he said, his thoughts going faster than his feet. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with her. I just know she’s convinced that she’s dyin’. That’s why we ended up in Illinois. She wanted to see her folks before…before…”
Greg slumped back in his chair, head falling into his hands. “I told her the trip would kill her. There were days I thought it would, but she’s hickory stubborn.” He looked up. “That doesn’t mean she’s better, though. Her episodes are gettin’ worse.”
“Then I feel honored she would give me whatever time she has left.”
Greg studied Richard in a new light. His hair, pulled back in a ponytail, was peppered gray, his goatee was more salt than pepper, and he looked older than his mom by at least a decade. From what Greg knew, Richard’s only family had been his wife, and she died right after the Collapse. Greg enjoyed Richard’s company well enough, but he couldn’t figure what his mom saw in him.
Then something clicked.
“Wait, you already talked to her about this?”
Richard beamed. “Yes. She wanted to discuss it with you first since she knew you might have a hard time understanding. Maybe she should have been the one to break the news.”
“I don’t think it woulda helped. W…o…w…” Greg said slowly. “It won’t be too hard on you? Sometimes I can’t stand to watch her. She keeps tellin’ my grandparents it’s migraines or an ‘ol’ cough.’ But she’s in more pain than she lets on.”
Richard’s expression went soft. “I want to be with her, Greg, for as long as I can. I promise to help her with whatever she needs. I will take good care of her. You have my word.”
Greg’s thoughts turned unexpectedly evil: that Richard was in it for the citizenship. Why else rush a marriage? He wasn’t sure how far residency laws went nowadays—he and his mom got their cards easily enough—but this would be the homeowner’s son-in-law. Not a blood relative. It was a stretch to think the government woul
d let Richard into their exclusive society. Although it was one more person to tax. At this rate, his grandpa would be broke by the end of the year. Yet implying Richard was in it for the yellow card—especially when yellow cards in Carrie’s bubble world were virtually useless—was an insult to both his mom and Richard.
No. It had to be legit.
Greg tried to remember any times he’d seen his mom and Richard together. Richard was a regular at the house now. More often than not, he’d lag behind meetings to talk. He’d laugh. She’d laugh—but then she always laughed. Plus Richard spent more time talking to Greg anyway. True, they could have been spending time together when Greg was working, but still…it happened so fast.
Richard, the hippy-looking accounting professor.
His mom, the southern spitfire.
Opposites attract indeed.
Richard O’Brien, Greg mused. Mariah O’Brien.
Mariah Trenton Pierce O’Brien?
No matter how Greg tried, he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. It had been twenty years since his mom kicked his drunken dad out of the house. Since then she’d been happily single. So happily single Greg figured she’d stay that way. Yet, if what Richard said was true, if she already agreed and if Richard knew the cost, then maybe it was for the best.
Greg looked up. “Y’all have my blessing if that’s what you’re waitin’ for.”
Richard clapped him on the shoulder. “Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful!”
Greg shook his head with a slow smile. “Well, Richard, welcome to the family.”
* * * * *
Carrie lifted her face to the bright sunshine. Her resolve took a while to come by, but once she found it, there was no turning back. The weather mirrored her mood with brilliant overhead rays and not a cloud in sight. Add to it the yellow buds poking out of the forsythia bushes—officially making it time to plant peas—and it was going to be a perfect day.
Eventually.
As she strolled toward the end of the cul-de-sac, she saw Sasha carrying her basket into one of the vacant homes. With Greg’s consolidation plan, Woodland Drive was going to be a busy place again. That was good. But after another house, Carrie’s feet grew heavy. Resolve or not, good intentions or not, she was scared to death.
People who give sunshine to others can’t help but give some to themselves.
She recited her mother’s words one last time and rapped the clan signal on the Kovach’s door.
The moment she saw Jenna, she forgot her rehearsed greeting. It had only been a few days, but the change in Jenna’s face took Carrie’s breath away. Her eyes were sunken and her dark, frizzy hair drooped over her tired shoulders. One whiff of the house told Carrie her nausea hadn’t improved either.
“Come on in, Carrie,” Jenna said tiredly.
Distracted from her purpose, Carrie followed her inside to where Jenna lay back down on Carrie’s old green couch.
“How are you feeling?” Carrie asked. “If you don’t mind me saying, you look awful.”
“As if I don’t know it,” Jenna said. “Why did the Collapse take our makeup, wrinkle creams, salons, and hair gels, but not our mirrors? It’s a cruel world, Carrie. A cruel, cruel world.”
Carrie laid a supportive hand on her arm but jerked back. Jenna’s skin was cold, almost rubbery.
“Have you been eating?” Carrie asked.
Jenna pulled a blanket over her shoulder. “What’s the point? It all comes back up.”
“Is there anything that sounds good? Anything at all? We have to find something you can keep down.”
“Who would have thought pregnancy was the best diet?” Jenna sighed with a faraway look. “I bet I weigh less than I did for the pageant. If only Patrick Friedman could see me now.”
Carrie frowned. A diet was the last thing Jenna needed. Already she looked anorexic. She didn’t show any sign of a bulging stomach under Carrie’s purple shirt either.
A tiny smile lit Jenna’s gaunt face. “You know what sounds good right now? A Big Mac. I can’t believe it. I never liked Big Macs before, but it sounds divine. Crazy, huh?”
Carrie churned on that, half-remembering that cravings indicated a deeper physical need. Maybe Jenna was iron deficient. Or maybe she needed more protein. Probably both. With the raid, they’d cut meat rations in fourths, but Jenna obviously needed more than her allotment.
Well, if it’s a burger she wants…
The thought of a goat burger made Carrie’s stomach churn, but they had to do something to help this woman who had somehow fallen asleep during Carrie’s short thought process.
Carrie stood quietly. Jenna’s eyes fluttered open.
“Sorry,” Carrie whispered. “You sleep. But first, where are the boys?”
“Mariah has them. Sasha’s taking them tomorrow.” Jenna’s eyes flew open. “Oh, Carrie. The meeting! Jeff told me what happened, what May said to him. If I would have been there, I would have stopped it. Why didn’t you? May only listens to you anyway. Why didn’t you stop her? She was so mean to Jeff.”
Carrie bit her lip. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. Is Jeff home?”
“Yeah. I think he’s in the garage.”
“Okay.” Carrie tried to smile through a sudden burst of nerves. “I’ll be back with some food in a bit. For now, try to sleep.”
She wandered into the kitchen. Even before she reached the garage door, she heard loud, furious hammering coming from the other side of the door. Her stomach clenched but, before she could change her mind, she yanked open the door.
Jeff’s head came up in surprise. The second he spotted her, his eyes hardened in anger. “What are you doing here?”
Carrie cleared her suddenly dry throat. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Jeff?”
“No.” He went back to work, striking the side of a dented wheelbarrow with deafening blows.
She thought of a dozen reasons to turn tail and run, foremost being self-preservation. Sunshine…her mom whispered. Squaring her shoulders, Carrie pulled the door shut and walked over to him.
“I came here to apologize, Jeff.”
The look he shot her sent shivers down her spine. “Don’t play games with me, Carrie. I’m not sorry for what I said. You coming here won’t change that, so leave.”
She didn’t, because in that instant she was struck with the same thought she’d had when she saw Jenna. Jeff looked exhausted, almost haggard like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Greg was making all the men take turns on guard duty, but even Jeff? Probably. And for what? Carrie’s pride? The guilt soared. But so did her courage.
“I came to apologize,” she said, “and I’m not expecting anything in return.”
He dropped the hammer on the cement with a clang. “Alright then. Get on with it.”
He wasn’t going to make this easy.
She twisted her hands. “I realized your family’s safety is the last thing you need to be worrying about right now. So…I wanted to let you know that the sweep is tomorrow, and Oliver is scheduled. I’ll let everyone else know as well. It was childish for me to not say something sooner.”
“What about Oliver?” he asked, without acknowledging the first part.
Carrie spent all last night wondering the same thing. Everything came back to the fact that Oliver was a good man—a great man—and really, she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life single. Truth was, she could do a lot worse than Oliver Simmons. For all she knew, she was in love with him already.
“I think I never gave Oliver a real chance. At a relationship, I mean. And, and…” She tucked some hair behind her ear. “I’d like to try again before I talk to him.”
The lines around Jeff’s eyes softened. “That’s all I was asking, Carrie.”
That wasn’t true. Not at all. His stinging words from the meeting still made her insides ache, but it was time to let it go. It was over.
Her shoulders lifted, feeling proud of herself for sticking it out. It felt great to right some wrongs. Her mom had been right. S
unshine was contagious.
“What about Greg?” Jeff asked.
The sunshine faded quickly.
“What about Greg?” she said, leery.
“Is it distracting having him around?” Jeff asked. “Because if so, I’ve talked to some other guys, and we’ll force him out. We’ll do it if it will help you focus on Oliver.”
Nothing like having thirty-six people analyze every emotion she’d ever had, even the fleeting ones during a stupid baseball game.
“Do you realize how ridiculous that is, Jeff?” she asked. “If it’s distracting having Greg around then I have no business being with Oliver anyway.”
His eyes narrowed. “So you’re telling me you’re not interested in Greg? Truthfully? At all?”
Truthfully, over the last few days, her opinion of Greg had changed drastically. His apology. Her well. Zach. His girlfriend in North Carolina—why hadn’t he just mentioned her before? His “chivalrous attempt” according to Amber to find Carrie in the rain, plus sticking up for her in the days following. Ever since the meeting, Carrie had caught herself thinking about Greg far more than she should and unfortunately, her cheeks were giving her away.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I didn’t think so, but—”
Jeff jumped to his feet. “I knew it! Greg should leave!”
“No, please! Sending Greg away won’t make anything right.” She could only picture that altercation. I told you Carrie’s in love with you, Jeff would say. Now leave. “Please. I said I’d give Oliver another chance, and I need you to trust me. I promise not to put you or your family in any danger. Just let me handle this, okay?”
Jeff sat by his wheelbarrow with a grunt. “Fine.”
“Thank you. Now, will you stop being mad at me so I can help Jenna?”
A shadow crossed his face, but he didn’t answer. She hoped his silence signaled a ceasefire.
“I’m going to May’s right now to find her some food she’ll hopefully be able to keep down. I’ll be back in a little while, okay?”
“We’ll be here,” he mumbled.
Carrie felt like a different person leaving the Kovach home than she had going in. She was smiling again, soaring actually, and she loved her parents more than ever.
Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set Page 24
