Harvesting Ashwood Minnesota 2037 (20 page)

We walked out of my office together, past members of Peterson’s team in the middle of a disagreement. I tried to eavesdrop on what they said and heard the name “John” and the word “kid” both mentioned. They hushed. Paul began giving me small instructions about for our staff. 

“Paul, you’ve worked out of this space.” The color in his face alarmed me so I lowered my voice, touched his arm. “You can tell people directly what needs to be done.” Lights turned on as we entered the office. “As long as you remember that everything might be monitored, you can have exactly the same communications from this office data pad as from your wristband.”

“Can you bring Sarah over later?” Heading for the only window in the room, Paul looked outside. “Rain. That’s great, we could use an inch or so.” He turned back to me. “I need her to know I’m all right.”

“No problem.” I tried the data pad and checked drawers for basic supplies. “Anything else we can bring for reading or work?”

“When I’ve cooled down I’ll figure that out. Maybe Sarah can pack a bag with pajamas and my shaving stuff and clean clothes.”

“Sure thing, Paul.” I rested my head against his chest as we hugged, heard his heart beating fast. “Could you just relax for a few minutes? David’s new football magazine is out in the family folders zone. Sit and read.”

“Don’t worry about me. You get back to your boys. I think Andrew is a keeper.”

Chapter Eighteen

Big government could be good if you become homeless and found yourself transported to a place like Ashwood through workforce assignment. Parents with a sick child could be thankful for a medical system controlled by bureaucrats, not corporate executives. For those living in the urban gang communities, no government would ever be as expansive as the societal problems demanded. But no citizen was a match for people in authority who threatened home and family with no explanation offered beyond maintaining national security.

“General Manager Hartford.” I recognized Jega’s voice behind me. “You are not allowed to exit through those doors.”

I turned around to face David’s bodyguard. She stood at attention, dressed for the first time in my memory in military garb. The frozen features of a soldier during inspection replaced the warm, rounded face and friendly eyes of the woman who shared our offices every day. The fierce protector of David, the person willing to put herself in danger to keep him safe, appeared to be deployed against me.

“What’s this about, Jega? I’m just going to walk down the path back to the residence. I need fresh air before talking with David’s mother.”

“Colonel Peterson has established a secured perimeter for this building, ma’am.” Jega gazed somewhere near my left ear. “No unauthorized individuals may enter or exit through these doors.”

“He better make sure someone waters David’s roses.” A stupid statement in the midst of Peterson’s assault on my family, but the harsh words I wanted to spew had nothing to do with Jega. “You want us to use only the glass walkway?”

“That’s the directions we’ve been given, ma’am.”

“I appreciate the situation you are in, Jega.” I turned before she had to reply and walked back through the building, now aware of desks that had been moved and extra lighting.

For years in my life, fear could hold me captive—fear of being homeless, of being hungry, of losing my loved ones. Peterson nearly pushed me back to that place, but the insult of barring me from leaving through the front door and walking through David’s roses stirred my emotions one more time, bringing up deep anger that covered the fears.

I headed for the estate office building and found staff inside moving around as if this were any normal day. Lao sat in a chair in the office kept for my use. He held up a small, clicking device. “You’re clean and the office is also. We can talk here.”

I closed the door and leaned against it. “I only have a minute. You heard everything.” Not waiting for an answer, I continued. “So now Paul’s under arrest for the unpatriotic action of asking a friend within the government for the truth. I’m so angry I think I could physically kick Peterson’s ass off the estate if I channeled all my emotion into one foot.” I paced the small room. “We’re all virtually under house arrest the way the that man is operating.”

“Milan heard your conversation.” Lao sat forward on his chair, gray streaks in his black hair reminding me of our history.

“Here’s Paul’s communication wristband. It’s ridiculous that Peterson didn’t just have someone block Paul’s contacts.” I handed Paul’s band to Lao, noticing how it was tattered on one side. “Something isn’t right about this whole setup—the ambush, fake military action, choice of Ashwood as a communications center. None of this makes sense.”

Lao and I received a communiqu? from Milan at the same time. “Sit tight. Bureau friends in DOE guard. Resolution of all within week.”

Lao showed no surprise as he asked. “You think you can hold on for a week?”

“If I knew David would return safely, I’d hold on for that long. Peterson fingered a gun while talking with Paul, but I don’t think he’d hurt any of us.” I tried to adopt Lao’s calm demeanor as I turned our discussion to Paul’s absence. “We need Paul in the fields these next weeks to supervise harvest—not just here, but on the estates under contract for use of our equipment and labor. How do we negotiate for Paul’s daytime release?”

“Take a step back, Anne. If Peterson is carrying a weapon, he’s acting under military guidelines. Your communications is still open for Milan’s people to make note of that change.” He paused, perhaps for DOE or Bureau listeners on my communications to seek clarification, then followed my thoughts about Paul’s status. “We could offer to pay for a DOE agent to trail Paul throughout the day.”

“If it could be that easy, consider the budget approved.” Anger and fear mixed together, I wanted action.  “Paul will be safer every moment we can keep him out of that building. Isn’t that right?” Lao nodded, once. “Would we be taking any risks if Sarah spends nights with Paul in the office?” The erratic beat of Paul’s heart under my ear still caused me concern. “Is there some way we can generate a medical need to have her there as a monitor during the nights?”

“You have mentioned that your father-in-law has complained lately about shortness of breath.” Lao checked his communicator then spoke. “We had to reschedule a meeting because he had a consult with the regional medical unit.”

“David told me that Paul had a number of little health issues that were exacerbated by the heat and pollen, but not to be concerned.” I accepted David’s explanation of why Paul stayed in the house one hot afternoon instead of traveling to Giant Pines. I would never take my father-in-law for granted again.

“Consistent with what Paul told me, but let’s see if Sarah can be with him. She’ll lower his anxiety.” His words came out slowly. “We’ll do what we can to monitor her while she’s in the DOE building. I’ll talk to her about how to take care of herself, but I don’t think Peterson would threaten her. He’s more interested in getting at you.”

Magda, carrying leaf bits and garden dust on her clothes, joined us. “Do either of you know where I can find Paul? I have Little Creek’s field manager here to talk over harvest schedules. It’s not like Paul to miss a meeting.”

“Close the door,” I said. “We need to operate without Paul the rest of today and maybe for a few days. He is being held by the DOE folks for stirring up information they would rather be kept confidential. That’s all I can say.”

“Freakin’ mother of God. Are those folks all crazy?” When I first arrived at Ashwood, Magda would have cursed in a colorful mixture of Romanian and English, regardless of the age of others present. “That man is about the most loyal American in this whole estate region. Some of the workers call him Uncle Sam reborn. These people got their heads so far up their asses they only see the world through their own putrid guts.”

Putrid became a favorite Magda word after spending significant time with a traveling British agronomist. She used it to describe everything from smelly shoes to rainy weather, usually to break tension. There was nothing joking about her response to Paul’s absence.

“You can conference with Paul.” I looked toward Lao for agreement. “He’s in the DOE building extra office. Just don’t let the Little Creek people know what’s going on. Make up some excuse about why he can’t meet face to face.”

“Not a problem.” She pulled a twig from her shirt. “I look like a mess, but that’s what this guy gets for showing up early. Not that I would clean up much for another field manager.” She lowered her voice. “You holding up okay, Anne? We haven’t had time to talk.”

“Yeah, I’m doing okay.”

Being Magda, she changed emotions quickly. “By the way, that Andrew is a good-looking kid.” She pulled her hand back to pick at other greenery on her shirt. “Just like the lady I saw walking with him. No one with eyes would doubt that kid came from you.” When Magda slowed enough to smile, she raised smiles in others. “Got to go.”

“I should do the same,” Lao said. “And you need to talk with Sarah.”

Before I did that, I called Peterson to make the case for allowing Sarah to spend nights with Paul. He needed no persuasion. His voice implied he had little interest in his prisoner. My request to have Paul in the fields during the coming weeks also met little resistance. I held back on suggesting how Paul might be monitored by the DOE. The whole conversation lasted two minutes and made me wonder if Peterson regretted his hasty arrest.

I checked on Andrew on my way to our residence and saw him working his way through a set of assessments with a tutor. He didn’t notice me in the classroom building, but I noticed the stiffness of his back and hoped he was not so stressed that his performance suffered. They reached a stopping point. The tutor pointed my way so I joined them.

“Not giving Andrew even a few hours to observe?” I kept my voice light as I addressed the tutor who was one of Phoebe’s favorite school people. “I had a minute and wanted to be sure Andrew is comfortable.”

“I asked if we could do some quizzes, Anne.” Andrew said the last word with caution. “I missed a bunch of school while my aunt and I looked for work, and didn’t want to just sit around here without my own assignments.” His voice lowered. “If that’s okay?”

“Couldn’t be better, Andrew.” I wanted to ruffle my hand through his hair. Instead I gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’ve had a difficult day, so don’t push yourself too hard.” He looked into my face for a second. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Two seasonal laborers walked out the kitchen door as I approached, signaling the end of another day of preserving newly harvested produce. According to Terrell, Sarah really managed stocking the food shelves with little direction from our past cook. The two of them sat on stools at the long kitchen counter where windows looked out to the busy area we called the estate courtyard. With an old paper notebook and a data pad, they were reviewing food inventories.

“Your Andrew seemed to fit in well with Noah and John,” Sarah said as she patted the seat next to her. Twenty-four hours into our crisis, sadness dimmed her cheerful nature. “He’s a good-looking boy.”

I hugged her, remembered how my mother never got over my brother’s death, and I hoped she would be spared that pain. She felt smaller in my arms, more vulnerable, and I wondered about whether sending her into the DOE building was safe. “Thank you both for helping to make him feel welcome.”

She patted my back, then pulled away. “Of course, he’s welcome, Annie. He’s going to do just fine with the children. David will love him.”

Terrell passed a bowl of thin apple slices my way. “You didn’t eat much at lunch today.” I remembered his amazing cobblers and wondered if these were left over from making dessert for dinner. “That boy has a lot of sadness in his eyes,” he said. “His aunt did the best she could, but I think there’s some hurting there.” Straightening his spine, Terrell stretched his shoulders. “It’s probably been a while since he’s had anybody that excited about seeing him walk in the door.”

Through the years I’d learned to trust Terrell’s insights. I pushed the dish back on the counter. “He just told me that he missed school while they looked for work. He’s asked one of the tutors to start assessments so he could start studying.” 

“Got to like that.” Terrell winded my way. “I offered him an afternoon of hanging out here, but he seemed excited about going to school with John.”

“I actually came to talk with Sarah about our meeting with Mr. Peterson.”

“I already spoke with Paul. Maybe five minutes before you walked in.” She shut the notebook, clipped her pen to its edge. “Thought I might bring him dinner then stay with him for the night.” She reached over and brushed hair from my face, a mother’s soothing gesture. “I also know that the news wasn’t good about David.” I could see tears in the corners of her eyes. “Are you going to tell the children? About the chips and those two crew found dead?”

The way Sarah and Terrell looked at me, I knew this was what they were discussing before I arrived. “I’ll tell them just enough so they aren’t surprised if other kids talk. But I don’t want them to be more anxious.”

“And what about you?” Emotion choked Sarah’s voice. “How are you?”

“Pretty much in the same place as you, Sarah.” In the comfort of these two, I let my shoulders lower, uncurled my fingers from my palms, and felt the fear and sadness. “Lao wants to talk with you about how to take care of yourself when you’re in the DOE building tonight. Make sure to do exactly what he says. We need you here in the morning. I love you and Paul.”