If Darkness Takes Us Page 20

  “Sure,” he said.

  “Don’t tell anyone that you’re going slow, okay?”

  He nodded and went to pump weights.

  Sonja arrived shortly after dawn the next morning, as soon as smoke started rising from my barbecue. I showed her how to make the grill-top biscuits and the cowboy coffee.

  I made sure that Sonja ate a lot of breakfast, the same way I did with the kiddos. I even persuaded her to drink the awful powdered milk that I exempted myself from drinking. Of course, we fed Cesar as well. I told Sonja I would love to see her eat here and at home to get extra calories.

  We showed Sonja what we were doing with our home garden. I said that this week we’d fire up the wood cookstove and bake some bread. If it went well, we might set up a neighborhood co-op for canning and baking.

  “Sonja, Keno can show you my bike cart and the parts he needs for yours. Maybe today you and some kids could go around the neighborhood to look for parts. Then you can come back and help with dinner. Tomorrow, you can cook and do a little cleaning. We can work out a weekly schedule for all this. How does that sound?”

  Sonja seemed a bit overwhelmed, but she said, “It’s fine.” She headed off to find Keno but turned around, wearing a shy smile. “Thank you for helping us. You are a hero to me.”

  “Why, thank you.” My face grew hot. I couldn’t help but like Sonja. I realized that I was deceiving her, but I felt that I had no choice.

  Because we spent so much time getting Sonja oriented, the kids didn’t get to have their rides in Keno’s bicycle cart until the next afternoon. It was a cold and blustery day, and all the dogs kept getting in the way. Milo got Sonja’s permission, then led the dogs into her backyard and locked them in. Our neighbors didn’t seem to care that their dogs were locked in someone else’s yard. They’d been running in packs and were working everyone’s nerves. I thought we should lock the dogs up more often, but from all the yowling and jumping and whining, I knew the dogs didn’t agree.

  The kids took turns riding in the cart, and I made sure they wore helmets. I gave up on insisting they wear pads; they were mysteriously missing and Milo had a suspicious gleam in his eye. Even Sonja took a ride. The whole set-up looked wobbly and very bumpy to me. Keno agreed that he needed to make the cart more stable. The best thing was that the kids enjoyed themselves so much, laughing and shrieking with delight.

  Milo put in a heavy lobbying effort that he should be allowed to pull people in the cart, but I was afraid he’d spill children left and right, and no one would be laughing anymore. I told Milo he’d have to wait until Keno got things adjusted. Milo walked away pouting, but soon he was laughing again, chasing the bike down the street, his sunglasses askew, while Mazie and Cesar rode in the cart together.

  THIRTY-ONE

  WITHIN DAYS, Sonja was well-integrated into the household, and I wondered how we’d survived without her. Now I wanted more than ever to stop her from going to Mexico, but I kept this to myself, searching for some way to change her mind.

  She already looked healthier, with rosier cheeks and more roundness to her face. And Cesar was a godsend for Mazie. He would hang out with her all day as she washed laundry or supervised the growing chicks.

  Tasha didn’t appear to be seeing Chas for the time being. I saw her flipping through a medical anatomy book—I was ecstatic about that. And Jack had finally convinced Sam to use his truck for the water runs out south of town.

  Keno went on all these runs as an armed guard. I couldn’t bear to think of him in a shoot-out over water, but he wouldn’t discuss staying behind. The water quests were his brainchild, and he was determined to see them through. He wanted to take weeklong shifts at the farm to guard the well, but I begged him to stay home to protect us. I sincerely needed his help. This was the only thing related to water quests that I won his concession on.

  Getting the wood cookstove going was harder than I’d anticipated. At first a couple of pieces were missing. After a lot of cussing and shoving things around in the Mint garage, Phil and Jack found the misplaced parts. Then the stove had to be leveled, which meant the best place to set it was on the Mint patio.

  But I was afraid the smoke would chase away my bees, which I still hadn’t revealed to anyone. I hadn’t done a thing to take care of those bees or to harvest the honey either. I said I didn’t want the stove on the Mint patio because it would smoke up the house. We settled on my front yard as a temporary place, until we could set up vent holes and smoke stacks in someone’s garage.

  By the time we got the stove put together and leveled with a short smoke stack attached to its backside, it was too late in the day to fire it up for more than a simple test. We built a small fire in the firebox and cooked split pea soup and rice on the stovetop. There was more smoke than with the barbecue, but the stove seemed to cook well. The tricky part would be controlling the temperature for baking and stewing.

  The next morning, I was up early, starting a yeast and sugar-water mixture to rise, rousting Keno to fetch flour and oil from the Mint, and getting Tasha to help knead bread dough. By the time Sonja arrived, we had eight loaves rising in pans, and Keno was damping down the oven to regulate the temperature.

  One nice thing about the woodstove was that the top heated up while the oven was going, so we cooked breakfast on the stovetop—oatmeal and hot cocoa made from powdered milk. So much starch in this diet of ours. Ugh. I made myself drink lumpy cocoa because it had protein in it. I hoped my kids weren’t getting their growth stunted from the lack of whole protein. I would have given a fortune for some goats.

  While the kids and I ate breakfast, Sonja put the bread loaves in to bake, and with some instruction from me, she started another batch, this time of twelve loaves. I’d already scammed bread pans from the neighbors, so I had about thirty pans. Everyone was happy to provide them. Just the thought of fresh bread made some of us get teary-eyed.

  By mid-morning, the air above our yard was loaded with the warm and yeasty smell of baked bread. As we pulled the first loaves from the oven, neighbors started strolling past the yard, eyeing what we were up to.

  “Oh, come on and get some,” I said. Soon almost every neighbor was in our yard, munching on hot, fresh, whole-wheat bread. I saw smiles on faces that I hadn’t thought capable of smiling. Since we didn’t have honey yet, I set out my stash of maple syrup.

  “Merry Christmas,” someone said. Was it Christmas already? I’d quit paying close attention to the calendar because it made me too sad to think about how long my family had been missing. Going on three months now. I mean, I knew Christmas was coming, but I had tried to ignore it and apparently succeeded.

  Later when I came inside, Mazie and Tasha were draping the mantle with Christmas chains made from construction paper and glitter, and Milo was belting out, “Si-i-ilent night, ho-o-oly night,” in his crackling contralto voice.

  They put me to shame, these hopeful kids. I sat down with a full heart and proceeded to pine for the rest of my family the remainder of the day.

  At last, Keno pronounced the bicycle cart ready for me. I got instantly nervous, I couldn’t say why. If this thing worked, it might suddenly expand our horizons.

  I pulled Milo aside and insisted he produce the missing knee and elbow pads. He was evasive at first, but he finally coughed up the goods when I explained what a bad thing it would be for an old woman to break her elbow in a world without medical care.

  We’d already had a broken arm in the neighborhood, and Silas had been forced to pull his wife’s abscessed tooth with a set of pliers, using whiskey and ibuprofen for anesthetic. What were we going to do when the pain relievers and liquor ran out?

  I strapped on the pads, donned the helmet, and let Milo help me into the cab-cart behind Keno’s bike. The whole contraption looked a bit like a chariot. Keno grinned from ear to handsome ear. The kids giggled, and Sonja smiled. Jack watched us from his driveway.

  “Ready, Nana?” Keno said.

  “I guess, but go slow, okay?”<
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  “I can’t go too slow or we’ll fall over.” Keno laughed, and so did I.

  “Does this thing have a seatbelt?”

  “No, but I’ll put one in later. Can we go now?”

  I crossed myself and held on to the sides. “Ready. Set. Go!”

  Keno took off. Our speed as we raced past the scenery, plus the wind in my face, scared the wits out of me. It had been twelve weeks since I’d ridden in a car or any sort of vehicle. We took a left turn and went over a bump, sending me several inches into the air, and I squealed. My heart sped up, which always worried me, but I hung in for a trip around two long blocks and a victory lap in front of our house.

  Neighbors cheered for us, and we had a good laugh.

  “Someone help me out of here,” I said. Tasha rushed forward with Mazie, who almost knocked me down trying to hug me, she was so excited.

  “Keno,” I said, “that was a lot better than riding on your handlebars.” We cracked up at that.

  Jack came over to join in the fun. While I had him here, I asked where to find the pecans. He swore me to secrecy, then followed me inside to draw me a map. It was a place about a mile and a half away, a vacant lot surrounded by storage lockers.

  “There’s two big pecan trees, and they always bear, even when other trees don’t,” he told me. “And the nuts are big with those good paper shells. I haven’t had a chance to go back, with all the gardening. But you better be careful over there. Hungry people are mean, and some folks must be mighty hungry by now. If someone found that place and staked it out, they won’t be happy if you intrude.”

  “Okay, I’ll take a gun. I guess it’s too close inside town to do shooting practice. I was hoping it’d be a place where I could teach the kids to shoot.”

  “It would be better to do that in the neighborhood. It’s less likely to draw unwanted attention. Maybe I’ll build a little shooting range.”

  “Thank you for watching out for us.”

  “It’s my pleasure to watch out for you, Bea.” His eyes twinkled in the fading daylight. For the first time in a long time, I noticed how blue they were.

  “See ya, Jack,” I said, and he grinned.

  Sonja offered to bring a bike for Mazie to use—a bike she’d bought for Cesar to learn to ride someday. Now that Sonja was getting into being resourceful, maybe she wouldn’t feel so helpless anymore. Maybe I could persuade her not to go to Mexico. I crossed my fingers and zipped my lips.

  Rick the Stick, reporting from the radio that night when I was alone, dropped this bomb on us listeners:

  “There’s a rumor goin’ around the ham community that some nukes went bad back east. Some folks don’t believe this rumor, but others swear by it.

  “One guy claims he knows for sure. Says that two nuclear reactors in Virginia—up by D.C.—they exploded and poisoned the whole area and all those people. God above, I can’t imagine how bad that must be. Guess that’s why the gov’ment ain’t helpin’ us.

  “Someone else said the Indian Point nuke up by New York City melted down. I don’t think it exploded, but it leaked radiation. No one knows if it’s killin’ people or what.

  “Sorry to have to tell y’all somethin’ so bad, folks, but maybe it explains a few things.”

  Oh, it explained some things, alright. Without power, cooling water couldn’t be cycled through nuclear reactor coils, and they would’ve run out of gasoline for backup generators pretty fast. Nukes were bound to melt down. Damn them for putting us in this peril. But my blood pressure wouldn’t allow me so much anger, so I lived in a state of anxious resignation.

  I could not live without hope. I had to constantly make room for it.

  I checked the Geiger counter, and the reading was a touch higher than last week. I shoved my thoughts of nuclear devastation to the bottom of my mind, as I’d done repeatedly throughout the course of my life.

  THIRTY-TWO

  84 DAYS. 84 Godforsaken days.

  On a balmy late December day, we went pecan hunting. By the time we’d finished our morning chores, it was near noon—already too warm for jackets, although I insisted that everyone bring one. This was the time of year when the weather could turn quickly, and we would have no warning.

  The kids herded the dogs into Sonja’s backyard. Sonja offered to pull the garden cart we’d filled with jackets, water, and bags for pecans.

  “That’s sweet of you,” I said. “How about if you and the kids take turns?”

  “Okay.” Sonja’s eyes were puffy, her expression hollow.

  “Are you feeling up to this, Sonja? You don’t have to go.”

  “Today is my husband’s birthday.” She turned her back to me, wiping her eyes. I patted her shoulder. I couldn’t think what to say. Hank’s birthday had come and gone in November, and I had deliberately ignored it. What kind of hard-hearted person this made me, I didn’t know, but I wasn’t fond of this icy aspect of my new self.

  I told Milo to pull the wagon with Cesar riding inside. Milo was peeved, but soon we were rolling down the street, with Tasha and Mazie riding bikes, Sonja walking fast, and Keno pulling me in the bike cart. The Zizzos waved as we passed. The kids got downright giddy, even Milo. I felt a bit giddy myself.

  When we reached the storage lockers and the lot with pecan trees, the place looked deserted. Keno hoisted Milo to the top of the chain-link fence, and Milo climbed over to scout around. He came running back.

  “There’s a billion pecans. Two billion maybe!”

  “Great,” I said. “But how will we get in?”

  “I can lift kids over, then climb over myself,” said Keno. He looked askance. “You might want to wait over here though.”

  Shoot. I’d been looking forward to gathering pecans. But the main thing, other than adding to our food supply, was for the kids to have fun.

  “Okay, everyone up and over. Alley-oop!” I stood back to watch the kids make fast work of breaking into someone else’s property.

  “I’ll wait with you, Bea,” Sonja said.

  “Sure, but you can gather pecans if you want to. I’ll be fine.”

  She looked uncertain. “I’ll go for a while, but I’ll be back.” I nodded, and she was up and over the fence, nimble as a cat.

  I lay on a blanket, thinking about my missing family, which was more torturous than restful. Tasha came to the fence after about an hour.

  “You okay, Nana?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you for checking on me,” I said, and she grinned. The girl was having fun, for once.

  A good while later, Sonja climbed the fence and sat down beside me, sighing. We chatted a bit about the crazy-good overabundance of plump pecans. She was obviously hurting, so I kept making conversation, hoping to cheer her up.

  I gave Sonja’s arm a light squeeze. “Want to tell me about your husband? It’s his birthday, right? How old is he?”

  “He’s thirty,” she said quietly. “His name is also Cesar, the second. He’s a computer engineer. So am I, but I haven’t worked since Cesar the third was born.”

  “Such a devoted mother. Why did your husband go to Mexico? For his job?”

  Sonja’s face went ghastly pale. She shot me a horrified look, then jumped up and ran around the far corner of the storage lockers. Shit, Bea, what have you done now?

  From out of my sight, Sonja let out a guttural sob. Cesar snapped his face toward the sound then looked around fast for his mother. Not seeing her, he dropped his bag, spilling his pecans and tripping over them, scrambling to the fence and plastering himself against it, screaming, “Mama!”

  Mazie went into action, squealing her little head off. “Keno! Come help Cesar over the fence! Hurry!”

  Keno rushed to Cesar, whispered something to him, then lifted the boy to the top of the fence.

  “Be careful getting down, Cesar!” Mazie shouted, stealing the words right out of my mouth. “Don’t worry about your pecans. I’ll get them!”

  “You’re a good helper, Mazie.” I almost cried at Mazie’s swe
etness, but I couldn’t cry. I’d already set a woman to weeping just to satisfy my curiosity.

  I stood by while Sonja returned to embrace Cesar, but when her tears didn’t stop and Cesar started wheezing, I stroked her arm.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I know you need to cry, but Cesar’s getting wheezy. We should pack up and take him home.”

  I wanted to hug Sonja, but she was so reserved that I doubted she’d want to be hugged. I took hold of her hand and used a clean hankie from my pocket to wipe her face.

  “Sweetie, it will get better, I promise you that. And if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

  “Thank you,” she muttered, averting her eyes.

  I hollered for the kids to grab their bags of pecans. “Time to go home!”

  The kids made a big production out of getting each other and their pecans, plus Cesar’s, over the fence.

  “Nana,” Milo said, “I got more pecans than Keno! See!” He showed me his bag, then grabbed Keno’s so I could compare the two. They looked about the same to me.

  “Milo,” I winked at Keno, “I believe you beat his socks off.”

  Milo danced around pointing at Keno and rejoicing, while Keno feigned a scowl.

  We put the pecan bags into the wagon. “It looks too heavy to pull home,” I said.

  “I’ll pull it,” Sonja said. Before I could protest, she added, “I want to.”

  “If you’re sure,” I said. “Thank you.”

  Tasha winced and held her stomach. She looked a little green.

  “Did you eat too many pecans, honey?” I asked her.

  “Not that many,” she said.

  “We’ll fix you some mint tea when we get home.”

  Cesar was still breathing raggedly, so I put him in the bike cart with me. Sonja lagged behind, lugging the wagonload in fast spurts, stopping often to pinch the top of her nose.