Graham's Resolution Trilogy Bundle: Books 1-3 (35 page)

~ ~ ~

Clarisse’s passing by him as he neared the serving table brought Dalton back to the present. He smiled at her as she walked past, a smile she returned. He was glad he’d made two people happy. Well, three, if he included his wife, though that fact was a mere by-product.

Clarisse brought Addy’s tray to her. While the others were having barbecue TVP chicken over rice, Clarisse opted to bring Addy her rice dressed with faux butter spread and a dash of salt and pepper, knowing the girl would not care for the rich barbecue sauce mixed in. She spooned a little of the main course on the side along with her reconstituted mixed vegetables. A slice of homemade bread and canned mandarin oranges rounded out the meal.

Clarisse always made a point of effort to converse with Kim at dinner now in an effort to ease the tension. She liked to think Kim had felt overwhelmed by all her diverse tasks in the camp and had acted in Addy’s best interest. While she knew it had been against Dalton’s wishes for Addy to move in with her, she had no complaints. Addy made her life complete. Well, almost.

As she went back for her own tray, Clarisse made a point of complimenting Kim on her cooking skills. “I don’t know how you do it. You’ve managed to make something different every evening, giving everyone something to look forward to.” Though she said it with effort and a forced smile, she hoped Kim would believe she meant it. In truth, Clarisse didn’t care much for the woman. She felt Kim didn’t appreciate her own husband and acted as the camp socialite, but she kept that slight contempt to herself, all the same.

“Well, we all have our jobs. I’m thankful I can bring a smile to most folks,” Kim said in her singsong drawl with a little dig toward Addy. Then, as if she remembered a question for Clarisse, or perhaps just wanted to keep a dialogue going with her for Dalton’s sake, she said, “Clarisse? Tammy and I were working in the greenhouse, and we had a question about cross-pollinating. Tammy says that you cannot plant pumpkins next to other squash but, I remembered planting them next to zucchini without any problems. Do you know what she’s talking about?”

“It’s a bit tricky,” Clarisse informed her. “Pumpkins can cross with other squash, and different kinds of squash can cross with each other. But you will not see the results in the crop that year; you’ll still get what you planted. It’s the
seeds inside the fruits
that are affected, so if you take those seeds and plant them the following year the fruits you get then will be a cross. Sometimes they’re quite strange looking—exotic—but often they’re inedible. So if you intend to save the seeds for the next year’s crop, which obviously you do in our circumstances, then you want to keep them separate to avoid cross-pollination.”

“Okay, we’re starting some of the seedlings now and planning the garden layout at the same time.”

Clarisse said, “That’s good news. We’re all very excited about eating fresh vegetables. Let me know if you need any help. I’m sure Addy would love to work in the greenhouse,” she added, then immediately regretted her words.

“That’s a great idea.” Kim lit up like a Christmas tree at the prospect. “We should get all the children involved. We’ll have a sign-up sheet!”

At the mere mention of a sign-up sheet Clarisse smiled and nodded, figuring that was all she could take. She backed away with her tray, nodding and smiling until she thought it might be safe enough to turn around and escape. She sat next to Addy, feeling as though she’d completed her quota of required socializing for the day and then some.

Clarisse watched as Addy finished her rice and worked on her oranges, giggling and listening as Dalton retold the story about how her dad had snuck up behind a moose so quietly last fall that the massive beast jumped when it realized a human had come that close. “Just like a scared cat.” The little girl laughed at the thought of her dad besting a moose. In Addy’s mind, there wasn’t a thing her dad couldn’t do.

Clarisse watched as Addy climbed onto Dalton’s lap and nestled into his arms while begging for another story about her dad. She ached to keep that happiness on the girl’s face. When Addy turned to tell one of the other children that what Dalton said about her dad “was so true,” Clarisse met Dalton’s eyes and mouthed,
Thank you
.

He smiled and mouthed back,
Anytime
.

The inside of the greenhouse smelled of the loamy peat starter mix they used to encourage the new seeds to germinate. Graham associated the strong odor with the Easter holiday and with digging graves. More disconcerting was having the two memories mesh together—chocolate bunnies with pastel bowties and factory-produced yellow marshmallow chicks next to visions of him covering his father’s face with dirt. Every time he set foot in the building these pictures flashed before his eyes, but that’s the way it was. He would shake his head and exhale at the absurdity of his reactions. The others had similar triggers to past memories, both good and bad; you never knew what would prompt a reaction to the old in this new world.

He and Sam had erected two temporary posts for the purposes of hanging kills, to bleed them in the greenhouse. This temporary arrangement was agreed upon by the greenhouse boss—namely, Tala. They’d reserved enough space in the front to hang two kills at a time. As long as they promised not to disturb the greenery, Tala wouldn’t deprive them of coffee.

Skinning for actual taxidermy purposes would take a lot more attention to detail than their needs called for. They only wanted the most intact fur from the beasts, so Graham didn’t bother skinning out the paws or the head, which would take him an additional two to four hours sitting on an overturned bucket with a spotlight and visions of brightly colored jellybeans and pastel Easter eggs to contend with. He ran the small sharp skinning knife down the inside of the wolf’s paw up to the inside elbow and then up the inside shoulder, with the blade tip right under the skin. Then he made similar cuts for the other limbs, after first using a lateral cut to start pulling the hide back. Afterward he ran the sharp blade from the inside back leg, up to and around the anus.

Next he sat on the bucket and scraped back any tendons or tough tissue patches as he pulled the skin down toward the skull. Skinning wolves meant stinky work, but once you got the hang of the task, you ignored the musk and pushed forward. Some of the silly visions dispersed as the odor took over.

When he got to the line around the neck he continued to finish out the forelegs. The tedious task would take most of the evening to complete both beasts, but, if not done properly, the hair would fall out of the hide. If that happened, all the effort and benefit of the task would be lost.

Graham had learned the skinning process from his dad many years ago, never realizing he would come to depend on the skill. So now, when he picked up the knife, memories flooded in a rush. Each time grew easier, and now he appreciated the memories even though, in the beginning, they nearly drove him mad.

With several building projects planned once the warm weather took hold, he’d hoped to add two more bedrooms onto the cabin; one for him and Tala and one for the twins to share. Afterward he and Sam would begin working on a better barn structure. They wanted to get a hold of a few beef and dairy cows to help supplement their diet, and possibly start a small herd.

He was nearly down to the tail when Marcy came through the entrance, bearing a welcome cup of hot coffee.

“Hey, Tala said you needed this,” she said, presenting the steaming cup.

So far they’d managed to find coffee out on their scavenging trips, but Graham dreaded the day the coffee ran out.

“Give me a second,” he said as he stood up, put the knife away, and removed his gloves. As he pulled the fingers of the glove off one by one, he came to the conclusion that Marcy didn’t usually come around bearing gifts, and Graham suspected more to the delivery than mere coffee.

Marcy settled the warm cup in his cold hands.

“So, are you packed up for the hunt?” he asked her, knowing he’d better lead the conversation.

“Yeah, I’m ready.” She lingered, passively studying the raw flesh with barely the tip of her finger.

“You cleaned your gun?”

“Yes. As you showed me, Graham.”

She rolled her eyes, strolled away from the kill, and wandered behind Graham toward the seedling tables. He remembered his father telling a neighbor once, “You always have to stay at least one step ahead of teenagers to keep them from killing themselves.”
Great advice, if you weren’t already three steps behind them to begin with
, Graham thought.

She wanted something. Hope thickened the air they breathed. He took another sip of his coffee and vowed he wouldn’t make it easy for her.

“So, what were you and Macy starting to argue about earlier?”

“Nothing, Graham.” This wasn’t going the way she wanted it to, and he was glad for that. “I just thought she ran behind, but we worked it out. Like you told us to,” she added.

“Good. You two are sisters, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out what the heck you’d have to argue about. You’re the luckiest set of carrier siblings here. In fact, you’re the only set of carrier siblings I know of, so far, so be thankful.” He wondered what else he could yammer on about to keep her true intentions at bay.

“The only other carrier blood relatives we’re familiar with are Dalton and Mark. They’re cousins and, of course, Dalton isn’t a carrier,” he rambled on. He wasn’t ready for the conversation he knew she was coming to talk about. The longer he held her off, the better.

She rolled her eyes finally and said, “I know, Graham! I’ll talk to you later,” and then stomped back to the cabin.

Graham took another sip and couldn’t help but chuckle. This parenting thing was a pain in the ass, with fifteen- going on sixteen-year-old twin girls. At least he’d managed to hold her off one more time.

After mooning eyes at one another for months now, he suspected she and Mark were getting closer each day, but Graham and Tala felt they needed to wait at least another two years. At only sixteen going on seventeen, Mark had a lot to learn before he became a husband.

Ennis looked at it differently; he’d lived in an era when early marriage was commonplace, and to see fifteen-year-olds married off wasn’t unusual. He argued that these were strange times, and if they were committed to one another, then that was fine with him. Graham and Tala decided Mark and Marcy could wait until she was at least eighteen. This would give them enough time to teach the two as much as they could.

Pregnancy presented another problem altogether. Clarisse warned them all about the possible risk of the virus affecting a fetus and mother. So far, none of the prepper community had become pregnant, so Clarisse hadn’t been faced with the issue head-on. Graham and Tala took precautions on the few times they managed to be intimate, purely because they were scared of the outcome. Tala had already miscarried once, and Graham wasn’t about to put her through that again since there was no assurance that a child would make it to term. There was no way of knowing the virus’s effects until afterward.

Graham finished his cup, pulled on his gloves, and went back to work. By the time he pulled the second hide free, the sun had long deserted him, and he had managed by spotlight alone. A moment later, Tala called him in for supper. “Give me a little more time to put this on the frame. I’ll be in soon,” he called to her.

Stretching the hides over the frames didn’t take him long to complete, especially with his stomach growling after a hard day’s work.

Early the next morning Sam woke Mark, who in turn roused Marcy. Everyone spoke in hushed tones to keep from waking the sleeping ones.

After dressing quickly, Marcy gazed over at her sister’s sleeping form. She contemplated saying good-bye, but somehow her pride kept her from giving into the urge. She didn’t want to be only Macy’s twin sister anymore. She thought of herself as more than just someone’s sister. In Mark’s eyes she was more than that; with him, Marcy—for the first time in her life—became separate from Macy.
Finally
, she thought.

Marcy met Tala in the small kitchen, lit only by the kerosene lantern they used in the dark to help conserve the solar-powered electricity, where they packed the food the hunting trio would need. Tala gave Marcy a hug, and then a well-meant warning: “Marcy, listen to Sam and Mark. Keep yourself safe, and don’t take any
risks
.” There was an emphasis on the word
risks
; Tala was hoping to get a point across to the girl.

“I won’t,” Marcy said with an incredulous smile. “I’m not a baby. Honestly, you guys treat me like I’m a fragile child.”

“Marcy, we’re all fragile right now,” Tala said. “Please, mind Sam and don’t give him any trouble,” she repeated.

“I won’t,” Marcy promised, remembering how “not fragile” meant “whole,” and to become less than whole, or dead, happened too easily now. Sifting through the events that had led them to this spot became harder as the months passed by. Trying to keep the right memories in place and let the others slip away, while at the same time trying to grow up, was a continuous task.

Mark and Sam met Graham out by the Scout, which was already idling, and helped them load the equipment. When Sam went in to grab another load, Graham pulled Mark to the side and issued a warning, not unlike the one Tala had given Marcy. “Mark, listen to everything Sam tells you to do, and don’t let Marcy take advantage of you.”

Mark began a mock coughing. He hadn’t expected Graham to come right out with it in this way.

Graham smiled while Mark recovered, and with a grin Mark said, “Graham, Marcy and I have an understanding. I promised you I wouldn’t let her ‘take advantage of me,’ as you put it, until she’s eighteen. I plan to keep that promise, but only until then.”

“If anyone else said that to me, I’d strangle him, but Mark, you’re just as important to me as she is. I’ll even give you away on your wedding day, as long as you keep your promise,” Graham said, still smiling. “In all seriousness, you guys listen to Sam, and be careful.” He hugged the young man.

Sam, Marcy, and Tala came out, followed by Sheriff, who came to see what the commotion was at this early hour. Sam got behind the steering wheel and Marcy climbed in the backseat, claiming she hoped she could get a little more sleep as they drove.

The sky began to hint at a purple hazy sunrise. With Tala at Graham’s side, they waved good-bye as family members would when leaving on a long journey. And that is what they’d become over this time—a family of sorts.

As the engine noise dissipated in the cold morning silence, Graham led Tala back into the cabin, and Sheriff decided he wasn’t ready for this day either, so he trotted along inside as well and camped beside the warmth of the woodstove instead of returning to Macy’s bed.

Graham halted Tala in the living room and contemplated “taking advantage” of her in the semiprivacy of the quiet early hour, but Macy or Bang would, more than likely, wander in.
I can’t wait for spring building
, he thought. He settled for wrapping her up in his arms and falling back to sleep on the couch instead. She still looked pale to him, and he questioned her insistence that nothing was wrong.

~ ~ ~

No more than an hour later, Graham woke and reached over to stroke Tala’s long dark hair as she lay sleeping on his chest. Sensing something out of place, Graham opened his eyes to find Ennis sitting in his rocking chair, staring blankly at the flames inside the woodstove. Graham hadn’t heard him come into the room.

“We’re not supposed to be here,” the old man muttered to himself or to a ghost; Graham didn’t know.

Not wanting to wake Tala, Graham lay still and observed Ennis for a while. If he could figure out his curious behavior, he might be able to help him. It worried him that he’d walked the distance by himself from the bunkroom. Somehow, in Graham’s mind, the longer the old man was spared for them, the safer they’d all be. He just hoped he’d learned as much as he needed to from Ennis and, at the same time, hoped Ennis realized how much they’d all come to love and appreciate him.

“Storm brewin’ an’ we’s in for some trouble, now,” Ennis muttered, nodding his head up and down. This time the old man looked directly at Graham.

“What trouble, Ennis?” Graham whispered. He knew Tala would wake, but he didn’t want to startle her.

“Them, over the river,” Ennis said and gestured with a raise of his hand toward the prepper camp.

The old man’s eyes wept. Graham didn’t know if old men’s eyes just did that or if Ennis meant the tears. “The preppers are in for trouble?” Graham asked him. He could understand where Ennis would come to this conclusion since the death sentence of H5N1 still loomed over everything and everyone.

“Yeah, they’re in for some trouble,” Ennis repeated, nodding again, then returned his milky stare to the woodstove’s lingering flames. Eventually he nodded off slumping, his head lolling over toward one shoulder.

When Graham had first come across Ennis here in the cabin, the old guy frequently tossed out some eerie phrases. Some people might have thought they were premonitions, but at the time, Graham suspected the old man was putting on a show for them. Now, with Ennis slowly slipping away from them, the unfathomable warnings had returned. As before, Graham took them as the mere wanderings of a tired mind.

Tala rose from her comfortable position and sat up, smiling at Graham. “Did we have an audience?” she asked.

“For a while. He’s fallen back to sleep, I think,” Graham whispered. Pulling herself away, she went to check on Ennis. He had drooled on himself, so she retrieved a clean rag and gently wiped his face. After touching his cold hands, she decided he needed a blanket. Graham handed her the one they shared, and as she tucked it around him, she looked up, frowning. “Something’s wrong, Graham. He doesn’t seem right.”

Graham stretched his tall frame and widened his eyes in an effort to wake up, having had too little sleep lately. “Yeah, he mumbled something about a storm brewing and the preppers being in trouble,” Graham said.

“I’ll be talking to Clarisse today. Maybe she can give us some tips to help his pain,” she said concerned. Graham saw fright in Tala’s eyes, and he reached out to hold her. “He was just a gift for a short time, but we both know he won’t be with us for much longer. We were lucky to have him to begin with.”

A scuffling sound came from Sheriff. He was having his “chase the squirrel” dream again. Both of his front and back legs moved as he lay on his side in front of the woodstove with an occasional grunt exerted toward the hunt. With this distraction, both Graham and Tala relaxed a little.

“I hope he gets it this time,” Graham mused, and Tala laughed quietly.

“Me too, poor guy,” Tala said and slipped away to make the first pot of coffee of the day, patting Ennis’s shoulder along the way.