Year One (26 page)

Now Katie laughed. “You would, too.”

“Damn right.”

Arlys headed into the school, stepping into light as odd as the fifty-year-old faerie. Magickal light cast a faintly golden glow. She posted the
Bulletin
on the corkboard, scanned other notices. Offers to barter one skill for another or for a mechanical part. Others looking for interest in a book club, a crocheting circle, a softball game.

People, she thought, reaching for people.

That's what they were building, she thought, despite the handful of morons who couldn't see past their own bigotry.

She walked on, made the slight turn to the offices. Through the glass window she saw Rachel and Jonah huddled together at the desk.

Didn't Rachel see the way he looked at her? Arlys wondered. Couldn't she feel it? The man was so obviously in love even Arlys, who considered herself inexpert and mostly disinterested in such matters, could spot it at a mile.

She rapped her knuckles on the jamb of the open door.

“Arlys.” Rachel dropped her pencil, rolled her shoulders. “New
Bulletin
?”

“Just posted. We're going to have a bonus edition this afternoon. On bigotry versus acceptance. On decency versus assholery. My editor cleared me to use harsh language. I heard about Bryar and the Mercers. She's lucky you were around, Jonah.”

He shrugged. “I'm pretty sure I'd've gotten my ass kicked if Aaron hadn't come along. They were drunk and belligerent enough to start swinging.”

“My money's on you,” Rachel said. “Writing it out, harsh language
included, might stir up more resentment. But bringing that boil to the surface, lancing it might be better than letting it fester.”

“It might take more than words.” Jonah got up, rolled his chair around the desk for Arlys. “Have a seat,” he said, then leaned on the desk. “I think we need to have a meeting, a serious one. You, Rachel, Katie, Chuck, Fred, Bill. I'd add Lloyd Stenson, Carla Barker.”

“Lloyd was a lawyer, Carla a sheriff's deputy,” Rachel put in. “Lloyd's, for lack of a better term, one of the animal whisperers, so that brings in three, with Jonah, from the magickal side of things—and all with good heads.”

“We need to talk about official laws, rules, consequences,” Jonah began. “We need to write up some sort of community constitution, I guess. Once we do, we need to take it to a full community meeting. People are settling in, and that's a good thing. By and large, we're working together, but that business with Bryar isn't the first trouble, and it won't be the last.”

“Every one of us is armed, one way or the other,” Rachel put in. “What happens if, human nature being what it is, somebody takes a shot at someone instead of a swing? What would have happened if the Mercers had hurt Bryar? We need to figure it out before it happens.”

“I agree.” Hadn't she just mulled over moving toward a more formal structure? Arlys thought. “Some won't like it—the rules or the consequences—so we'd need to make it simple and clear. And if we have laws, that means we need someone who will enforce them.”

“I'm hoping Carla will take it on,” Jonah said. “She has experience, she's steady. And maybe we could ask Bill Anderson to work with her.”

“Bill?”

“Steady again, and people like him, respect him. I'm not sure he'll want to take that on, but we will need more than just Carla. Any
way, it would be a start. Right now, heading up committees, I'd guess you'd call them, is volunteer, and it can cycle.”

“We need to make that more formal.” Rachel tapped her pencil on the desk. “Since we haven't had any patients this morning, Jonah and I have been trying to work on an agenda. Up to now we've had to focus on food, shelter, security, medicine, supplies. Now we need structure.”

Arlys nodded. “And with structure comes laws, mores, a line of authority, consequences. And information.”

“On the list,” Rachel told her. “We're going to need to send out scouting parties. Right now it feels like we're all there is in the world. But people are still trickling in so we know we're not. We have to know what's out there. Maybe Chuck can get communications up again, but we don't know who we'd communicate with, or what we'd risk if we contact the wrong people.”

“Human nature being what it is,” Arlys murmured. “And extra-human, too. Being extra isn't an immunization against being violent. It just adds a layer. What the hell do we do if we set up laws and one of our Uncannys breaks them?”

“We better figure it out.”

Arlys looked at Jonah, blew out a breath. “All right.”

“My place? We've got the room, and Katie can put the babies to bed.” Rachel glanced at Jonah. “Tonight?”

“Sooner the better.”

“I'll tell Fred.” Arlys pushed to her feet. “And I'll go up to talk to Bill, talk to Chuck. Katie's right outside. I'll tell her on the way. Say nine?”

“It works. Carla's working the community garden.” Jonah slid his hands into his pockets as he looked at Rachel. “Since we're clear, do you want to walk down, talk to her? We can round up the others while we're out.”

“Sure. Let me grab a walkie.” Rachel pulled them from the desk drawer, set one on the desk with the sign saying the doctor is out but available, hooked the other to her belt.

They walked out together to where Katie changed Hannah and the twins lay on a blanket squealing, waving hands, kicking feet.

“They act like I just gave them each a pound of chocolate.” Laughing, she scooped up Hannah for a nuzzle.

Jonah laid a hand on Rachel's shoulder. “Do you hear that?”

“Hear what— I do now,” she added when the sound of approaching engines reached her. “Someone's coming.”

“More than one someone.” Jonah walked down to the sidewalk. He saw others looking as well, coming out of their houses, the other buildings. Shielding his eyes with the flat of his hand against the glare of the sun, he stared.

“Holy shit.”

Rachel pulled out her squawking walkie, scooped up a baby as she answered.

“The sentry cleared them,” she called out to Jonah, and walked down to join him.

“I don't know if he'd have had much choice. That's got to be fifteen cars, trucks. And a damn school bus.”

Katie, two babies in tow, and Arlys stepped down to the sidewalk. So together they all watched Max lead his group into New Hope.

 

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Both wary and curious, Arlys studied the man who got out of the lead car. Tall and lean in jeans and a black T-shirt, dark hair curling choppily over the collar, boots worn and scarred. He struck her as hard and handsome, with the scruffy look of a man who'd been on the road for days, maybe weeks.

He had an air about him, she thought, one of confidence and power. He pulled off his sunglasses with one hand, held the other up in a wait signal. More cars and trucks rolled in—more than the fifteen Jonah had estimated. Some with what she thought were horse trailers.

The man scanned the street, the people, appearing to judge whether they held welcome or aggression. He seemed prepared for either.

Beside her, Jonah shifted, then stepped down to walk to him.

“Jonah Vorhies.” After the briefest hesitation, Jonah offered a hand.

“Max Fallon.” Max accepted the hand. “Are you in charge?”

“Ah—”

Arlys went with instinct, speaking as she walked down to join them. “We were the first here. Arlys Reid.”

A woman got out of the passenger side—earning a quick, warning glance from Max.

She wore her long, dark blond hair in a ponytail. A T-shirt bagged over her small baby bump.

“I know you,” she said as she skirted the hood of the car. “I watched your broadcasts. Clung to them right up to the day we left New York. I'm Lana. Max and I lived in Chelsea.”

Lana laid a hand on Max's arm. “We followed your signs,” she added. “From…”

“South of Harrisburg,” Max said when Lana glanced at him. “We picked up people along the way.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Jonah held his ground as a skinny guy and a tail-wagging dog climbed out of the backseat. “How many are you?”

“Ninety-seven people, eighteen of them under fourteen. Eight dogs—two of them pups—three dairy cows, two Holsteins and a Guernsey, and a bull calf. Two Black Angus calves. Five horses, including a pregnant mare, eight cats, about a dozen chickens, and a rooster.”

Jonah blew out a breath. “That's a lot. You're the biggest group we've ever had come in even without all the livestock. Are you looking to settle here?”

“New Hope. Following your signs gave people that.” Max looked back as a muscular black man and a tough-looking white man started down the line of cars.

Arlys flicked them a glance, then focused. Her heart literally bumped in her chest. “Oh my God. Oh God. Will? Will Anderson.” Flying on joy, she rushed him, flung her arms around him.
She felt him stiffen, start to draw back. “It's Arlys, Will. Arlys Reid.”

“Arlys?” He yanked her back, stared at her with stormy blue eyes. “Jesus. Jesus. Arlys. My dad? Where's my dad?”

She gripped his arm tight, felt it quiver, and pointed up the street where Bill walked down the line of cars.

“Dad!”

Bill stopped and, as his legs buckled, braced on the side of a truck, a hand extended toward his son. Will took off running.

“New Hope,” Lana murmured as she watched father and son embrace. “It's what we all need. What we're all looking for.”

“Bill never gave up.” Jonah let out a sigh. “It looks like we've got our first New Hope traffic jam. I guess we'd better figure out how to handle it. We've got a system. It's still got kinks, but it's a system. Maybe we can start with pulling some of these vehicles into the school parking lot.”

“Is there somewhere we can unload the animals?” Max asked. “They're going to need food and water.”

“Ah.” Jonah scratched the back of his neck. “Rachel, we should contact whoever's out at the farm. It wasn't actually a farm until recently,” he told Max. “There are a couple, but they're too far from town for safety so we're improvising. We've got a couple of cows, a couple of horses, a nanny goat, and some chickens. We've got a feedstore, but we're going to need more feed with what you've brought in. We've got some hay going. I can't tell you much about that. I'm no farmer.”

“We've got two with us.”

“Better and better. Aaron!” Jonah signaled a man across the street. “Can you get a couple of people to help lead the trailers to the farm, get them set up?” He bent to pet the dog who came over to sniff at him. “Good-looking dog.”

“Best dog ever. He's Joe. I'm Eddie. I can lend a hand with the
animals,” he told Max. “I saw you on TV, too,” he said to Arlys. “Got yourself some good-looking rug rats,” he added with an easy grin as he looked at the babies. “We got a handful of our own on the wagon train.”

“Let's get some of these vehicles into the lot. Pass the word down the line, will you, Poe?”

“Sure thing.”

“Once you do, we've got a sign-up system. We're trying to keep track of people. Names, ages, skills.” Jonah gestured. “Katie's in charge of that. I think she could use some help with this many.”

“I've got it,” Katie said. “How far along are you?” she asked Lana.

“About four and a half months. Are they … triplets?”

“They're all mine.”

Lana let out a shaky breath, rubbed her bump. “Wow.” Looked at Max. “Wow.”

He put an arm around her shoulders, kissed her temple. “Let's get the cars out of the road.”

“You do that. I'm fine here. I can … sign us in. Max.” She patted a hand on his heart when he hesitated. “Trust goes both ways. We've had trouble along the way,” she said.

“We all have. Any medicals with you?” Rachel asked.

“A retired nurse—he's great. Go ahead.” Lana gave Max a nudge. “A nursing student, and she's coming along. A vet. A firefighter and two cops with emergency training. No doctors, but—”

“Rachel's a doctor,” Katie put in. “And Jonah's a paramedic.”

“A doctor.” Now Lana pressed a hand to her belly, looked at Rachel with eyes full of relief. “Max.”

He stroked a hand down her back. “I'll be right back. She'd feel better if a doctor examined her and the baby.”

“That's what we'll do. Lana, you said?”

“Lana Bingham.” Lana held out a hand to Rachel as she walked up. “I'm twenty-eight. I'm a chef—was a chef. I—”

Surprised, she jerked when Duncan reached for her. Babbling, he wiggled in his mother's arms, straining toward Lana.

“I know next to nothing about having a baby or what to do after I have one.” With obvious nerves, she took Duncan.

He laid a hand on her heart, and those nerves dropped away. She felt his light as cleanly as she felt the light inside her.

She found herself staring back into deep infant blue eyes, but with green edging in the sunlight.

“He's special—I mean, he's beautiful.” She continued to look at him as she spoke. “If you don't want Uncannys in New Hope, it's best if you tell us now.”

Duncan curled his hand around her finger, and light shimmered.

“He's special,” Katie said calmly. “So's his sister, Antonia. So is Jonah, and many others in the community.”

Tears swam into Lana's eyes as she lowered her cheek to Duncan's head. “Sorry. Hormones—that's what Ray, our nurse, tells me.”

“Katie, why don't you write down Lana's information. A professional chef?” Rachel asked.

“Yeah, and believe me, I know a lot more about fileting a Chilean sea bass than pregnancy, childbirth, or being a mother.”

“A lot of parents start off that way. I'm a terrible cook. We can barter the OB-GYN services for cooking lessons. And besides being a chef?”

“Witch.”

“And you're with Max?” Katie, behind her table, wrote out her information in such an easy, practical way, Lana smiled.

“Yes. He's the father, and my husband. Max Fallon. He's thirty-one. I can tell you without exaggeration, he can do whatever has to be done. He's kept all this together, all these people. He's a writer, but—”

“Max Fallon.” Katie looked up. “It didn't click. My husband loved his books. I know we have some in our library.”

“You have a library?” Lana asked, and her eyes swam again.

“We have a library, a community garden, a day care, and medical facilities. Does Max also have other abilities?”

“Witch.”

“Would you like Max to be with you for the exam?” Rachel asked her.

“Yes, please.”

“Send him in, Katie. I'm going to take Lana inside, get her comfortable.”

Jonah took Duncan, watched Lana go in with Rachel. “They're healthy.” He set Duncan on the blanket. “I couldn't
not
see. Healthy and strong. The baby … there's something bright. I don't know how to describe it. Something … more.” He cut himself off as Max strode up.

“They just went in. I'll show you.”

Lana changed into an exam gown while Rachel explained that they'd scavenged supplies and equipment from hospitals and clinics en route.

“We still need more, but at the time we didn't have room to take more. And some of what we have we can't use until we get power up again. Fingers crossed there. Come on in, Max. First, you estimate four and a half months, so eighteen weeks?”

“She was conceived on January second. That's certain.”

“Date of your last period?”

“I honestly don't know, but I know the conception date.”

“All right.” Rachel walked to a calendar on the wall, flipped back, counted. “Eighteen weeks, three days. That puts your due date at … best estimate going forty weeks from conception, at September twenty-fifth.”

“But, nine months would be early September.”

Rachel let the calendar flip back down, smiled. “It's actually ten months' gestation. Forty weeks.”

“Then why do they say nine? See,” she said to Max. “I know nothing.”

“You know now.”

Rachel gestured toward the scale. “Do you know your weight pre-pregnancy?”

“A hundred and sixteen. Oh God, I have to get on there, don't I?” Resigned, Lana stepped on the scale, but closed her eyes.

“Height, five feet, six and a quarter inches. Weight one-twenty-six.”

“Ten pounds?” Lana's eyes popped open. “Ten?”

“Is excellent for your stage of pregnancy. With your height and build, a twenty-five- to thirty-five-pound weight gain would be very good. But everyone's different, so don't stress about it.”

“Did you say thirty-five pounds? I thought Ray was exaggerating.”

“Why don't you sit up on the table—don't cross your legs. We'll get your blood pressure. How are you sleeping?”

“It depends. I have dreams.”

“We haven't always been able to stop or find the best shelter at night,” Max added.

“Mmm. Blood pressure's good.” Rachel noted it down. “Morning sickness?”

“I never had any. A little light-headed now and again, and I'm hungry all the damn time.”

“Allergies, medical conditions, medications?”

“No, nothing.”

“Is this your first pregnancy?”

“Yes.”

Rachel asked questions, Lana answered. Max wandered the room.

“Have you felt any movement?”

“I think—I felt … When we saw the sign? The one that says New Hope? She moved. It felt amazing really.”

Max turned back. “You didn't say.”

“You were on the walkie with Poe. You were worried. We didn't know if we'd be welcome here, or what to expect. And it wasn't like the butterflies I felt before. Ray called that quickening. It wasn't like that. It was excited. Is that normal?”

“At eighteen to twenty weeks it's good to feel movement. You'll feel more, but don't worry if you don't feel movement every day right now. ‘Don't worry' is the mantra.”

Rachel glanced at the ultrasound, sighed. “I need you to scoot down, feet in the stirrups.” She walked over, took gloves from a box. “I need to do an internal. Once we get things running, we'll do an ultrasound.”

Max pointed. “That?”

“Yes. Once we can use it, you'll be able to see the baby on the monitor, hear the heartbeat. I can measure weight and length, check a lot of things. I might be able to—if you want—determine sex.”

“It's a girl. I know that the same way I know the conception date. I know she's healthy and strong, but—”

“You still worry.”

“An ultrasound would show you things that would help with that worry?” Max asked.

Understanding expectant parents worried about everything even under normal circumstances, Rachel sent Max a reassuring smile.

“Babies have come into the world healthy and strong long before ultrasounds.”

“But?”

“I'm a doctor. I'd love to have all the tools available.”

“I can help with that.”

Max stepped to the machine, laid his hand on it. Rachel felt the air vibrate around her before the machine hummed to life.

Lana reached out a hand to brush Max's arm. “Max has a talent for machines, motors, engines.”

For a moment, professional equanimity lost against a celebratory
fist pump. “Oh, hell yes! We have an engineer and an electrician—and an IT guy—who are all going to want to meet you as soon as possible.”

“Can you use it now, for Lana and the baby?”

“Let's find out. If I'd known this was an option, you could've kept on your underwear.”

“If you think modesty's a factor, it's not.”

“All right then.”

Rachel pulled out a tube of gel, snapped on the gloves. “I'm going to put this on your abdomen.” She lifted the hem of the gown.

“Will this be painful?” Max asked, and took Lana's hand.

“Pain
less
.” Mentally crossing her fingers, Rachel rubbed the transducer over the gel. “There.” She nodded toward the monitor. “There's your baby.”

“I can't really … Oh God, I can!” Lana's hand clamped on Max's. “I can see her. She's moving. I can feel her moving.”