“I have a proposal,” Carrie said, standing to face the room, but that is all she got out before a wave of nervousness washed over her. Greg’s fourth idea had already been turned down, and he never presented the fifth for a good reason. She glanced at the empty wall where Greg used to stand and decided that if he couldn’t be here, at least his ideas could.
“I think we should revisit Greg’s idea to contact other clans,” she said. “I know it was voted down, but a lot has happened since then.”
“What’s the point in finding medical help now? It’s too late for Mariah and Jenna,” Sasha said bitterly.
It was like a punch to the gut. Carrie couldn’t believe Sasha could be so blunt and unfeeling. Luckily May had stayed in her bedroom for the meeting, and the clan’s new widowers, Richard and Jeff, weren’t there either. But poor CJ stared down at the carpet.
“Yes, but who knows when the next person will get sick,” Carrie said. “Even then, finding medical help wasn’t Greg’s only reason to reach out. I think maybe we could…” She clasped her hands, wishing for Greg’s ability to speak his mind. “What if we start a farmers’ market, a trader’s guild of sorts for illegals like us?”
People stopped fanning themselves to exchange surprised glances.
“They already have it,” Terrell said. “It’s called the black market, and in case you forgot, Barry owns it.”
“But that’s just it,” Carrie said. “This wouldn’t be one guy extorting prices and padding his own wallet. This would be an open exchange, free for anyone who wanted in.” Only instead of having it in town at that flower shop, they’d start smaller, in a place they could control. Like Logan Pond. “Just think, we could trade food, seeds, clothing, or even educational stuff like medical knowledge, or our books.”
“You want to give away our books?” Rhonda said.
“Not necessarily. Then again, we could trade them for other books. I don’t know.” She hated to say it, but Greg would want her to anyway. “With things at the precinct, Oliver’s able to help us less and less. This might help us become more self-sufficient. Maybe different clans could hide each other if times got tough or there was an inconvenient raid. Plus, we need to find a source of income if we’re going to keep May and CJ legal. Who knows? If we could earn enough, we might be able to buy another house and get a few more people legal.”
Someone snorted a laugh, probably still Dylan, but Carrie had already turned to Terrell, the supply guy.
“What do you think?” Carrie asked.
Terrell sat back in his chair. “Sounds nice in theory, but I’m telling you, Barry will go ballistic if he finds out we’re cutting into his profits. He’ll quit trading with us and everyone else.”
“Then maybe it’s time to shut Barry down,” she said in frustration.
Soft gasps sounded around the room. Barry got them supplies they couldn’t produce, like sugar, salt, matches, shoes, and ammunition. And yet, Barry’s demands seemed to grow higher each time, and CJ’s garage wouldn’t stay stocked forever.
Greg loved the shock and awe effect, so Carrie said, “Well, why not?”
“So…” CJ said, stroking his long, white beard, “where are you proposing that we’d hold this farmers’ market?”
“I was thinking that we could invite people here, maybe even outside of your garage.”
Dylan leapt to his feet. “Have you lost your mind? Have you forgotten why we broke ties with other clans in the first place? Even guarding with guns, people still tried to walk off with our stuff.”
She hadn’t forgotten. One guy hung around longer than the others. For months he tried to sneak back, testing different ways to raid their stash. It wasn’t until Jeff Kovach almost blew his head off that he left for good.
“Not worth it,” Terrell added. “We can’t have others see our supply stash. Not with us down to two guns.”
“Then what if we meet in the woods,” she said, “like you do with Barry?”
More shaking heads.
“At least consider it,” she went on desperately. “This could solve several problems. Don’t you want to know if other clans survived, especially with a civil war brewing out there?”
Her fellow clansmen looked as if they could spend the rest of their lives in isolation. It was like, after six years, they’d forgotten how to interact with anyone else.
“At some point,” she said, “CJ’s garage will be empty, and his money will run out. If things have to change eventually, why not now?”
More complaints, but she noticed a few like Braden and his parents nodding, seeming to consider her proposal—Greg’s proposal.
CJ held up a hand. “Hold on, folks. I think this deserves consideration. Why don’t we take some time to ponder the implications of reaching out? We can discuss it next week in more—”
“No,” Carrie interrupted. “I’m sorry, CJ, but I don’t think we should wait. Please. We still have time.” She couldn’t bear another week of doing nothing more than surviving. Between Greg and Mariah, and Jeff and Jenna, she felt the clock ticking like a time bomb. “What happens when another person gets sick? Do you realize one-fifth of our original number now lies in our cemetery?”
That got their attention. Like her, people hadn’t stopped to do the math.
“There has to be help out there,” she said. “Like my mom’s friend, Gayle Harrison. She was—”
“—nothing more than a medical paper pusher,” Terrell cut in. “Look how she messed up Zach’s ankle. No, I’m telling you, branching out is a bad idea. Barry won’t like it.”
“Ah, who cares about Barry?” Ron Marino said. “We need to do what’s best for our clan.”
A few others nodded.
“I suppose with that,” CJ said, “it’s time to vote. All in favor of contacting other clans say ‘Aye.’”
It was too hard to tell if they had a majority, so CJ asked for raised hands. Carrie counted while Terrell, Dylan, and Sasha glared at her. When she reached ten people, she exhaled in relief. Usually things passed by a wider margin, but ten was enough.
Her insides bubbled with joy. Greg’s ideas had passed.
Both of them.
“Great,” Terrell muttered. “Barry’s going to kill us—kill me. Literally.”
Carrie ignored him. “Okay. Where should we start? Which clans might still exist?”
“Ferris,” CJ said, sitting back. “Perhaps the folks in Oakwood?”
With some work, they came up with seven potential clans. According to Terrell, two had been caught by the government, but hopefully the others were still alive and willing to trade.
“Five,” Carrie said. “That’s great. What if we send a small group out to explain what we have in mind and see which ones are interested?”
“I feel sorry for whoever has to make first contact,” Sasha said. “I hope they aren’t shot.”
CJ seemed to not hear. “Any volunteers?”
Carrie’s hand flew into the air. Unfortunately, hers was the only one.
“Come on,” she said to the room. “They’ll remember us.”
Still no one.
“Who was the last person in contact with others?” CJ asked.
Every eye went to Terrell.
“Oh, no way.” He shook his head. “You’re not dragging me into this. My neck’s already going to be on the line.”
“It only makes sense for you to go,” Ron Marino said. “You know the trading business better than anyone.”
“Which is why I was opposed! Illinois is headed into a civil war, and you want to traipse around the back woods to trade carrots?” Terrell folded his arms. “Leave me out of this.”
Carrie swallowed. “Someone else, then? Anyone?” She’d go alone if she had to, but she really, really, really didn’t want to.
“I’ll go,” someone said from the kitchen.
She turned. Richard O’Brien had slipped inside May’s back door without her noticing.
“And Terrell will go, too,” Ric
hard added, “because he’s the best and because he’s absolutely correct. This area is headed into a civil war, which means things are only going to get worse. We need all the resources we can get. Who’s to say Barry won’t be found and caught? And then what? Carrie’s right,” he said, giving her a proud look. “We need options, and we need them now.”
Terrell’s wife, Jada, elbowed him. “Come on. Barry doesn’t have to know.”
Terrell’s black eyes rose heavenward. When they lowered again, they narrowed on Carrie. “Fine. But if I go, I’m in charge. When I say hold back, we hold back, and if I say we belt our voices to the world, then you two better back me up.”
Carrie couldn’t help but grin. “Of course.”
While Terrell pretended to be fierce and mean, he really was a big, soft teddy bear. Even more, he was a salesman. Between him and Richard, she knew they’d make it work.
“Okay,” she said. “How soon should we leave? You’re meeting with Barry tomorrow, so maybe after—”
“Oliver’s here!” Rhonda Watson suddenly interrupted.
As one, the room turned to the opened windows as Oliver’s car pulled into CJ’s driveway.
“Finally,” Carrie breathed.
Oliver got out of his car and headed up the sidewalk. CJ waved him in. “Come on in, Oliver!”
Oliver stopped, hearing the invitation through the open window, but too hesitant to let himself in.
Carrie climbed over the adults sitting on the floor to open the front door.
“Hi, Oliver,” she said, still smiling. “I didn’t think you’d be able to make it today.”
“Yeah, sorry. I couldn’t get away this morning.” With a nervous look, he surveyed the group. “Sorry to interrupt your meeting.”
“It’s fine,” Carrie said. “We were almost done.”
With the discussion still lingering in the air, she was tempted to ask if there were other clans in the area. But the fact that he and his coworkers still had jobs told her enough.
Oliver cleared his throat. “I’m scheduled to do a sweep here again with my partners Monday. We should be by just after sunset. So…uh…yeah.”
“As always,” CJ said, “thank you for letting us know. I suppose that means no guard duty?”
Dylan and the others looked relieved by that.
Carrie looked up Oliver. “Would you like to come inside for a bit?”
“No, I should get going,” he said, backing onto the porch.
The last she’d seen him had been the evening Mariah had died. Too much had happened since then for him to just leave.
“Mind if I walk you out?” she asked.
A light touched his gray eyes. “I’d like that.”
twenty-four
CARRIE AND OLIVER STOOD next to his patrol car as the sun descended in the western sky. A stiff breeze kicked up, attempting to lower the day’s sticky temperature.
“Any word from Greg yet?” Oliver asked.
“No,” she said. Not that she expected differently, but that didn’t make it easier. Questions plagued her day and night.
Oliver leaned against his car. “Don’t worry. He’s a smart guy. He knows how to survive. He should be fine—assuming he controls his sharp tongue. Although that is a big if.”
She smiled sadly. Greg seemed like he should be an off-limits topic between them, yet Greg and Oliver were friends, too. They watched out for each other. And her.
As she stood there, she decided that if she could control the universe, Oliver wouldn’t love her. Then she, Greg, and Oliver could stay friends. Or maybe she should just dump the notion of love altogether, especially after her talk with Richard. She refused to string Oliver along on the chance that something sparked between them. She’d wait for Greg as long as it took. Hopefully Oliver didn’t feel the same way about her. But the thought of a tri-friendship…the possibility that one of them didn’t end up heartbroken…
Oliver studied her with a long, sad expression. He knew she was thinking about Greg. Why couldn’t he move on? Maybe there was no one left. Maybe she was the last single woman he knew.
“How is Mariah doing?” Oliver asked.
The ground dropped out beneath Carrie. Oliver didn’t know. He had left before Mariah took a turn for the worse. He didn’t know, and she had to tell him. Just like she’d have to tell Greg someday.
“Mariah is…” Her throat constricted. “She’s…um…”
“I’m so sorry, Carrie. I wondered if she had, but…but I hoped she hadn’t.” His shoulders fell. “When?”
She blinked quickly. “A few hours after you left.”
His eyes widened. “That night?”
She nodded.
His jaw set in sudden anger. “I’ll kill him,” he whispered. He said it so quietly she wasn’t even sure she heard right. Except his expression matched his dark words.
“Sorry,” he said, catching himself. “I shouldn’t have said that. But if you knew my boss…If you knew all he’d done…” He ran a hand over his bald spot. “And Greg doesn’t know?”
She could only shake her head.
The sun dusted the sky with pink and orange. The colors blurred in Carrie’s vision. She faced the evening breeze to cool her flushed skin.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“I’m sorry, Carrie. I’m sorry about all of it. Very, very, very sorry.” He moved to touch her arm but retracted his hand. “Will you be okay?”
“Yes.” She took in a deep breath. “It’s May and CJ that I worry about. And Richard.” And more than anyone, Greg. Not only that his mom had died, but that it had been caused in part by what happened in town. He already hated the government so much. What would he do when he found out? “I just wish there was a way to let Greg know.”
“I could try to get a note to him.” He kicked the cement softly. “I mean, I doubt they’ll let me—they usually keep those places locked down—but maybe. If the letter looked official?”
“Could you? That would mean so much to his family.”
“Sure. I’ll try.”
“Thank you, Oliver.”
May’s front door swung open, and the adults streamed out. Terrell saw them standing by Oliver’s car. “We gave up waiting for you,” Terrell called.
“Sorry,” Carrie called back. “We’ll talk after you get back from…” She nearly said Barry’s but remembered Oliver beside her. “When you get back. Richard and I can come over Saturday to discuss the details.”
“I look forward to it,” Terrell said, words dripping with sarcasm.
He and the others started for home.
Oliver straightened. “I better go, too. I’ll try to come next Thursday, like usual. It’s just hard to get away. I pick up my partners from their house and drop them off after our long shifts. It’s been crazy.”
“It doesn’t have to be Thursdays,” she said. “You’re welcome to come anytime.”
“I am?”
She gave him a strange look. “Of course. I like when you visit, Oliver.”
He stopped moving. Stopped blinking.
Heat rose to her cheeks. She quickly turned back to the sunset. It killed her that Oliver had no self-esteem whatsoever, especially when it came to her.
“You know, you’ve become my calendar by visiting on Thursdays.” She found a little courage to smile up at him. “As long as you don’t mind me asking what day it is all the time, come anytime.”
“I don’t mind. Today is June 9th and the time is…” He checked his watch. “8:54. No, wait. 8:55.”
Her smile grew. “Perfect.”
“But won’t it make the others nervous if my car drives in here on a different day? I already worried about coming tonight instead of this morning, but I didn’t know what else to do with the upcoming sweep.”
“Oliver…” How she wished, again, for the gift of words. “You’re part of our clan now. I hope you realize that.”
He stiffened. “No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are. Especially aft
er…” Emotions swirled inside her, catching her unprepared again. “Especially after what you did for Mariah. You’re part of us now, so visit as often as you like.”
“As often as I like?” he echoed. His gray eyes studied her as if to ask, How often do you want me to visit?
She dropped her chin and let the soft breeze blow her hair around to shield her face. She loved Oliver as a friend. Why wasn’t that enough? If only Greg had really kissed her and ended the debate once and for all.
Her gut clenched with a sudden thought.
That kiss.
Greg’s goodbye.
He’d told his mom about a kiss that wasn’t even really a kiss. Richard told her how Greg had held back with her. And then what Greg said in the garage about Oliver. Dot by dot, piece by piece, things slammed into her, and it had her heart racing with dread.
Richard thought she and Oliver had the same personality. Soft-spoken. Crushable. And Greg had said he’d try to give their relationship a chance when he got back.
Try.
Which meant…
Her stomach twisted further.
She was Greg’s Oliver.
She was his friend, even a close friend, but a friend nonetheless. Greg was only trying to love her because his grandma and mom wanted it. It was his dying mother’s wish. So he kissed Carrie on the forehead and lied to his mom, all while trying to convince himself—possibly even unconsciously—that it was what he wanted, too. It was the same type of kiss Carrie might give Oliver. Her friend.
Try.
Like people wanted her to do with Oliver.
She was Greg’s Oliver.
Her legs felt weak, and she leaned against Oliver’s car. She should have known. She wasn’t Greg’s type—not flashy or flirty enough—just like Oliver wasn’t her type. From the beginning, Greg begged her to fall for the patrolman instead, probably to alleviate his own guilt because if she loved Oliver, his dying mother could have no complaints about him moving on.
Citizens of Logan Pond Box Set Page 59
