The Journal: Raging Tide: (The Journal Book 4) (30 page)

“Well, Ms. Allexa, that really does make
sense,” he said, looking down at his folded hands on the table.
“I’m really going to miss my new friends, though it would give me
more time for all the chores I have to do.” His disappointment was
so thick it could be cut with a knife and it hurt me to see it.

“Joshua, I have an idea,” I said. “What if
you
take Emilee to school in the morning and take that hour
on the radio? You can monitor and talk to your friends and still
have that extra free time for chores.”

“I think that is a very workable compromise,
Ms. Allexa,” he said happily.

*

After explaining our new solution to Tom, I
set out for the Mathers Lake Compound to talk with Art about Adam
dismantling the radio setup and moving it to the township hall.

With our new and mutual working relationship
with Art’s group, the gate was now always unlocked, though it was
often still manned.

“Good afternoon, Allexa,” Pete said as he
swung the gate open for me and waved me through.

“Hi, Pete, is Art on the premises?”

“Yes, ma’am. He should be at the big
house.”

*

“I’ll have Adam meet with Joshua tomorrow
around noon, if that’s soon enough?” Art said after I explained the
situation to him. “I’m pleased you came up with a solution that
allows those two to still have radio contact. They are both very
good with it and I’ve noticed that Joshua is by far less shy when
he’s broadcasting. And Miss Emilee, well, she’s the personality
that never ends,” he chuckled.

I picked up my cup of mint tea and took a
sip. “How is the leg doing, Art?” I asked, remembering how he broke
his leg and arm when a tree fell on him.

“Better than the arm,” he replied. “I think
the type of breaks involved have something to do with that. I just
need to be more patient.”

“Are you doing your physical therapy
exercises that Mark recommended?”

“Yes, I am,” he said. “Claire makes sure of
it.” He hesitated. “How are
you
doing, Allex?”

“You mean about Mark’s death?” I asked,
though I had no doubt that was what was on his mind. “I’m doing
okay, really. He’s been gone longer than we were together, you
know. I will always cherish the time we had, but I can’t and won’t
stop living. I think the road trip did me a great deal of good in
healing, in spite of some of the trauma and mishaps we endured. It
was very therapeutic.”

We talked for a bit longer and then I stood
to leave. “Oh, I almost forgot. Tom wants a meeting of the council
to discuss rationing, and now that includes you.”

“I still think Doctor James should have
replaced Mark on the council,” Art protested.

“James is a good doctor, Art, but he doesn’t
have the wisdom Mark had, and you
do
. You were the logical
replacement. The meeting will be in the council chambers on June
first at noon.”

May 30

I heard the rumbling of an engine as someone
pulled into the driveway while I was working in the garden and
cautiously ventured out to see who it was.

“Good afternoon, Keith! What can I do for
you?” I asked.

“I’m trying to do something for you, Allex,”
Keith Kay said. “Carron and I went out to the fishing hole this
morning and caught a couple of lake trout. They all came in about
twenty pounds, big ones for the hole! We thought you might like to
have one.” He held out a paper wrapped package. “We’re keeping one
for ourselves, and this one is for our township officials.”

I took the package from him. “This is
wonderful, Keith, thank you so much! We’ll have it for dinner
tonight.” I looked at my longtime friend and wood supplier. “How
are you and Carron holding up? It’s been a rough year.”

“Now
that’s
an understatement,” he
chuckled. “We’re doing well, better than most, in fact. That
greenhouse I built five years ago for starting plants has been a
true lifesaver. Carron spends hours on the gardening and canning so
we don’t go hungry.” He hesitated before saying anything further,
but I could tell he wanted to.

“I can tell there’s something else on your
mind, Keith,” I said.

“I just wanted to thank you for allowing me
to supply the town’s wood, Allex. I would have died from boredom if
I didn’t have this to do,” he said awkwardly, and then he backed
the big truck around, and dumped a load of wood for our
fireplace.

*

The fish was already gutted, though I still
needed to filet it. I ran cold water in the kitchen sink and washed
the large fish again. One filet would easily feed the three of us,
so I decided to make gravlax with the other half. I cut the meat
off the boney carcass and then carefully felt for any lingering
small bones on both filets. I skinned the piece I was going to make
into that wonderful cured treat.

Gravlax was really very simple to make by
taking equal parts of pepper, salt, and sugar, blending it well,
and then applying a thick coating to the raw fish. For the next
step I would need dill, lots of dill, so I need to make a trip to
my/Eric’s greenhouse later. I put the seasoned fish into a plastic
bag and set it to chill. Once I could pack the dill onto it, it
would chill for three to four days while the seasonings cured the
raw meat. I seasoned the other filet with a small amount of salt
and pepper, and placed it skin side up on a plate until dinner.
Fresh fish would be a wonderful treat for us, and I decided to pick
some ramp greens to go with it.

I packed all the bones and skin into a
sealable container and headed over to my old house… Eric’s house… I
didn’t know what to call it now. It was still
my
house and I
guess I will always think of it as that.

*

I let myself into the greenhouse to pick
herbs.

“Oh, you startled me, Allexa,” Rayn said,
pocketing her gun. I would have to remember to announce my presence
in the future!

“I’m sorry, dear. There’s no way to let you
know in advance that I might be stopping over,” I apologized. “I’ve
just come for some of my herbs.” I finished clipping the lacy
fernlike leaves off of several dill plants in the herb bed and then
pinched some fresh basil for another dish. When I reached for one
of the ripe tomatoes, Rayn winced.

“I was hoping to have those with dinner,”
she pouted.

“Okay, I’ll take two of the less ripe ones
and have them later,” I capitulated. “Rayn, I want you to know how
much I appreciate you and Eric taking care of my greenhouse.” I
picked a single green bean and took a bite. “I spent many hours in
here, planting and weeding, and I miss it.”

I hoped that was a subtle enough reminder to
her that this was still
my
greenhouse and that I had every
right to harvest what I wanted.

Rayn remained silent.

“Oh, and I brought some fish bones to
pressure cook for Chivas and Tufts.” I handed her the sealed
container.

“Smells are making me sick lately,” she
said, handing it back.

“I’m sorry to hear that, though it’s not
uncommon during the early stages of pregnancy,” I said. “Tell you
what, I can either cook these here, outside, or I can take my
pressure cooker with me and just bring back the pet food
later.”

Eric peeked around the door leading into the
house. “Hi, Mom!”

“Hi. Would you do me a favor and help me
carry a few things to my car? I would like to take a few of my
canned goods back with me,” I said, stepping around Rayn and into
the pantry room. I took a jar of pickled sausage and two of the
pickled beets. Eric looked at the beets and then over at Rayn. “Are
you craving the beets, Rayn?” I asked.

“Yes, she is,” Eric answered for her.

“Then I will take only these two jars. It’s
a good thing we can grow more!” I reassured them. Why was I feeling
guilty about taking my own food??? “And do you have a dozen or two
eggs I can have?”

“That we have plenty of,” Rayn nodded. Eric
set everything I selected into the cooler in the back of my
car.

“I think we should talk,” I said to the two
of them, so we sat at the picnic table under the spreading maple
trees. “I can understand how attached you are getting to the house
and the gardens. After living here for the last couple of months it
probably feels like it’s yours, right?” Poor Rayn, she looked
sullen and tearful when she nodded. “That’s good, and don’t worry,
I’m not going to kick you out,” I laughed. “Please remember though,
that just because I was gone for six weeks that didn’t mean I
wasn’t coming back. I did not
give
you all of my stuff. If
things would have turned out differently, I would have moved back
here. I do want you to treat what
is
here how
I
would, and that means it gets shared with family.” Eric understood,
however his new wife, with her mixed up pregnant hormones was
having trouble. “Rayn, I worked years stockpiling what’s here;
growing and canning all this food,
by myself
. I’m entitled
to take back what I want. I would never take food from you if you
needed it. Please remember, I need it too, that’s why I did all
this.”

*

When I got back home, I packed the dill on
the salmon and set the jars on the counter. I needed some quiet
time. The trip to Eric’s had left me feeling like a bully and a
thief.

June 1

A cold rain
splattered on the windshield of the Hummer as Jim and I pulled into
the parking lot of the township office. I had wanted to ride my
bike down, however, Jim nixed that idea at the first sprinkle.

“I will not be responsible for you coming
down with pneumonia!” he said emphatically. I made a face at him,
then saluted, which earned me a chuckle and a hug.

We dashed through the rain and made it under
the protective overhang just as the sky opened up. Everyone else
was already inside enjoying a hot cup of coffee. Tom sat at the
head of the scarred rectangular wooden table, with Father
Constantine on his right and Art Collins on his left. I poured
myself a coffee and sat next to the priest. I gave an involuntary
shiver as a drip of cold rain fell from my hair down the back of my
neck.

“Now that we’re all here, we can get
started,” Tom said. These were always informal meetings and no
minutes were kept. Tom kept a pad of paper beside him to keep track
of our final decisions. “In the seven plus months we’ve been here
in Moose Creek, we’ve used almost one-third of the diesel fuel,
one-fourth of the gasoline, and one-third of the propane. While
that sounds good by some standards, it also means we will run out a
year from now. Any suggestions?”

“Obviously we need to start conserving these
limited resources,” Father Constantine said, making a steeple with
his fingers. “The Sisters and I keep the heat set at fifty-five. I
think we should make that mandatory for anyone on propane:
fifty-five or less.” Tom jotted that down.

“Our biggest usage seems to be diesel. Is
that from the generator use?” I asked.

“Most of it is. There are a few diesel
vehicles, like the Passat and the Humvee, though they aren’t used
as much as one would think – your road trip aside. There’s also the
wood splitting,” Tom said.

“How long does the generator run every day?”
Jim asked.

“Ten hours or more a day,” Tom said. “It’s
been difficult to do less when the teachers need to do laundry
after classes, and for the men working in the woods to get showers
when they’re done.”

“If we cut the generator time to five hours,
which five would be the most efficient?” I asked the four men
sitting around the table with me. “Five hours would cut the use in
half, effectively doubling our remaining time.”

“We would want to have power for the
school,” Father Constantine reminded us.

“Yes, although they really don’t need lights
during the middle of the day. Even with the increased cloud cover,
there’s still enough light to see by,” Art chimed in. “In the
compound we lined the school desks up next to the windows to take
full advantage of any sun. It’s an option.”

“That’s a good suggestion,” Tom said,
writing it down.

“If the generator ran from one o’clock to
six o’clock every day, I think people would get used to the
schedule and work around it. It would force them to be more
organized about their daily chores, too, plus one to six would
cover the off-school hours the teachers need to do whatever they
need to,” I said. “I know that when I ran the gennie at home, it
was only for an hour or two. I would shower, do dishes, and wash
clothes. I filled buckets for flushing and for filtering, and would
use the electric grinder for making flour. I would turn it off, and
then
make bread, and hang the wet clothes to air dry. The
more things that are done needing power while the generator is on
makes that time more efficient. It’s wasteful to do something not
requiring power when the gennie is running.”

“There are going to be those who don’t get
everything done. What do we do then? Extend the hours?” Tom
asked.

“I say no. A few times of having the power
go off in the middle of something and those people will start to
adjust, as long as we don’t give in,” Jim said.

“What about the hospital?” Art asked. All of
us knew that accidents don’t keep a schedule, and neither do
babies.

“The hospital has its own generator, Art.
I’m sure the electrician can rig something where the hospital can
operate from the grid gennie while it’s on, then be switched to a
gas gennie when needed,” I said, “Likewise for the township
offices. With the moving of the ham radio to here, the idea was to
monitor more, not less. It would be practical to run the propane
generator from nine in the morning until one o’clock when the big
gennie kicks in. That one doesn’t need to be rewired since it’s an
automatic startup and is already wired.”