The Storm: War's End, #1 Page 23

  In a daze he finished his chores, not sure what to think about Fenton’s statement. It was as if his brain could simply not process what the old man had said. They were getting married tomorrow? On Christmas day? Did people actually do that? Wasn’t there a rule or something against it? He shook his head, finished his chores and headed for the house. It was almost noon and usually there would be lunch in process, but when he opened the front door and walked in he took in an amazing scene. Boxes of ornaments...everywhere. And an old trunk sat in the middle of the living room, lid open, and Carrie stood on a small stool beside it wearing the most amazing...

  “Oh!” Liza ran from Carrie’s side, neatly avoiding Joseph who was sprawled on the floor attaching hooks to tree decorations, “Get out! You aren’t allowed to see her dress before the wedding!” She flipped Chris around and shoved him back towards the door, “Out, out, OUT!”

  “But...I...” Chris was propelled out the door, which slammed closed behind him. To add insult to injury, the deadbolt turned in the lock. He was locked out of the house! Liza giggled and called through the door, “Hitch up the horse and go to town, you need to bring Mr. Liles back with you and ask Reverend Thomas, Carl and his family, and Mrs. Jennings to be here tomorrow morning for a wedding and then lunch.” There was a pause, “Oh! And be sure to get a pound of sugar if you can.” Chris started to walk away from the door, “Oh and...”

  “For crying out loud, girl, give the boy a list.” Fenton interceded.

  “Wait there, son, I’ll get you a sandwich for the road and Liza will get you a list.” And a few minutes later the door opened wide enough to shove a small lunch sack through.

  Liza grinned at Chris as he took the bag, “The list is inside. Don’t come back until dark.”

  Chris just shook his head and took the bag, headed for the barn and hitched up the horse. The day was turning rather surreal and he didn’t know what to make of it. As Ichabod moved briskly towards the town his state of shock persisted. Sure they had talked about marriage and getting married for months. Now that it was here, now that it was apparently just a day away, it felt unreal and frightening and exciting all at once. He couldn’t believe it was actually happening. He smiled suddenly. By this time next year he would be holding their baby in his arms. He could see her now, a little girl, with blond hair and her mama’s gorgeous green eyes. The vision of it moved him past the burned out trucks and skeletons, past the lookouts with barely a thought to wave, and on into town.

  He visited Mrs. Jennings first. Liza had written directions on the note on how to find the house and he figured it was right that she should hear the news of the wedding and get the first invitation since she had been so kind to give him the ring. She lived in a tiny little cottage. It was an exquisite little Victorian with carefully turned spindles and latticework. It would have been immaculate, inside and out, except for the huge piles of books. She seemed to having nothing but stacks of books in one of the bedrooms. No furniture, except for one lone chair, and a lamp surrounded by leaning stacks and walls of books.

  “You must stay for lunch, my dear,” she said, bustling away to the kitchen despite his protests that he had already eaten. After she filled Chris with soup and bread, they sat in the living room, surrounded by books and she served him hot mint tea. Liza visited Alice often after the library had been destroyed by fire. They had salvaged all of the books they could and set up shop in Alice’s tiny house.

  She laughed as he described the talk with Fenton and then being thrown out of the house and sent on errands. Her blue eyes sparkled, “Oh my dear, truly, I am happy for you. You and Carrie make a lovely couple.” She wagged her finger at him, “And as for the baby, don’t you be too hard on yourself, I know for a fact that Fenton may wish for things a certain way, but he knows the world doesn’t always work that way.” She smiled and sipped her tea.

  “Did you know that his wife Molly and I were best friends?” Chris shook his head, “Well we were completely inseparable from kindergarten until our senior dance in high school.” Her mouth turned down, her lips trembled, and “I wasn’t as good of a friend as I should have been. We both saw him at the same moment, and he looked so handsome. An older man, you understand, three years older than Molly and me, Fenton was. He walked in, we both saw him at the same time and she called dibs.” Chris laughed.

  Alice smiled, “Laugh all you want, but remember, we were young once too, and silly girls do that. She had called dibs and we were best friends. So she got him and I didn’t. Oh, how jealous I was!” She took another sip of tea. “Here, have a cookie.” She pushed the plate of cookies over and he took one out of politeness, despite his desperately full stomach.

  “I met my Larry a year later. We married before Molly and Fenton and we were all so close in those early years. But Molly had Isaac. As for me...well, the babies just never came. I was so jealous, Christopher, so sad I could never have one.”

  Her eyes misted, her lip trembled, and “I wasn’t a good friend. After all she went through having Isaac and I couldn’t even stand to see that child, wondering year after year why she had had a baby and I didn’t. And the years passed and we didn’t speak and then she was gone, before I even knew she was sick.” She looked at the carpet, looked back up at Chris, “I’m so sorry dear, I don’t know why I told you all of this.”

  What was it with women? Chris was beginning to wonder if they were just filled with tears. And what was it with the subject of babies and marriage that set them off so? Sitting in the wing-backed chair, trying not to knock off the dainty doilies on each arm, he struggled to think of something to say.

  “Mrs. Jennings, you uh, you seem very nice to me.” He said it awkwardly, “I, uh, I really had better get going. I have to visit Carl’s family and the reverend, and pick up Mr. Liles. If I don’t I doubt I’ll get let back into the house tonight.”

  Alice laughed, wiped at her moist eyes and patted his hand, “You are a dear, young Christopher, listening to an old woman so patiently. Pass word, if you will, to the Carters I would like to share a ride with them if they wouldn’t mind.”

  The Carters, Carl Owens’ mom and his stepdad John, had converted their van to run on biofuel. It ran on a diesel made of corn. The van had plenty of seats and room to spare.

  He promised that he would and set off to visit the different houses on his list. He lucked out at the Carter’s and promised a dozen eggs in return for the pound of sugar. The Trade Mart was closed for the day, which was a relief, he didn’t care to run into Wes Perkins and said as much to Abby. Abigail Carter was a tiny woman, and at age six, her daughter, Tabitha, had already grown past Abigail’s shoulder. Her son, Carl, who was sixteen, towered over her and he was still a good head shorter than Chris. Abby gave a wry smile, “Wes has always been a bit of a jerk. Family or no, I don’t much associate with him these days now that both our parents have passed.”

  Chris gave a start, “You’re related?” Oh God, he’d put his foot in it this time. His face must have shown his dismay because Abby laughed then. She looked far too young to have a teenage son.

  John, Abby’s husband, laughed too. “They’re first cousins, on Abby’s mother’s side. Wes’s mother was the oldest of five, and Abby’s mother was the youngest.”

  “Mama had me when she was nearly forty. I was quite a surprise, even more so since I was the first to give her a grandbaby.” Abby grinned wryly, “Wes always was a jerk,” she looked around and saw that Tabitha had gone back to her room and then leaned forward conspiratorially, “A real bastard, actually. Shoulda seen what he did to his wife after he came back from Iraq. Blackened both her eyes. PTSD, be damned, he’s always been a prick.” Abby shook her head, her short curls dancing, “Those kids were so damned cute. They played with Carl almost every day. Course that was over ten years ago.

  He beat her up; she packed up the kids and left the next day. Can’t blame her a bit for it, but I sure have wondered where they are now, especially now, with all that’s happened out there i
n the world.”

  “Abby,” John gently interrupted, “Chris needs to be heading home. It’s getting late. And the man’s getting hitched tomorrow.”

  Abby apologized and hugged Chris, “We’ll be there tomorrow! Give my love to everyone and tell them we’ll see them soon!”

  And with that, his list of chores complete, Chris headed for home. John and Abby had assured him that there was room for Mrs. Jennings and Mr. Liles in their van and even offered to give Reverend Thomas a lift if he didn’t mind a cozy ride. He had the sugar Liza had demanded and everything was a go for a Christmas wedding.

  It was pitch black out by the time he returned and Fenton had left a lantern out on the porch to guide his way. He unhitched Ichabod, set him to eating dinner and closed the barn up tight. The lantern shone brightly and he could see specks of snow beginning to fall. Just spits of snow, really, nothing exceptional, this was Tennessee after all. He took the steps two at a time and was at the front door before he remembered his reception earlier that day, and decided to knock.

  He could hear Joseph’s voice and running feet, “Chris is home! Chris is home!” The door opened and the little boy hugged him and peered around behind Chris, “Where’s Mr. Liles?”

  “He’ll be here tomorrow, Joseph, riding in style with the Carter’s.”

  “Oh.” The little boy look disappointed and then perked up, “Come see! Come see!” He tugged on Chris’s arm and pulled him into the house. Chris shut the door behind him, turned, and took in the beautifully decorated rooms. Liza and Fenton were sitting on the sofa, looking exhausted, Carrie was nowhere in sight. The old trunk was gone, as was the wedding dress that Chris had had only the smallest of glimpses of. In place of the boxes was a tree decorated with all the trimmings, a few wrapped presents underneath, and a fire crackled merrily in the fireplace. Wreaths and garland adorned the walls, and a hand-carved Nativity scene was center-stage on the coffee table. The bookshelf, every one of the shelves normally filled with books, had one shelf cleared for a Christmas village.

  Joseph bounded through the living room, skidding to a stop in front of the bookshelf. “Look Chris, look! I did the Christmas village. ‘Ceptin we couldn’t make the houses light up ‘cause they run on ‘tricity.” His mouth turned down at the corners, mournfully. The little boy had no idea what television was like, and didn’t miss it, but he missed making the village light up.

  “You did great, Joseph.” Chris smiled at the little boy. “Wow,” he said, feigning surprise and wonder, “Is that real snow?” Chris pointed to the white folds of fabric the buildings rested on.

  “No, silly, it’s pretend snow!” the boy bounced up and down, pleased with Chris’s response.

  The sofa and Fenton’s favorite chair had been moved back against one wall and there was now a large empty space in the middle of the living room. Liza didn’t move, but she smiled and asked, “What do you think?”

  “It looks beautiful,” Chris answered honestly. He pointed to the open floor space, “Is that where...”

  “Yup,” Fenton looked exhausted, “That’s where Liza and Carrie say the ‘best spot’ is for gettin’ hitched. Good lord, I’m beat.”

  “Gramps slaughtered Drumstick today.” Liza waved a tired finger towards the oven, which was beginning to emit the most luscious smell. Drumstick had been the largest of their eight turkeys and already slated for Christmas dinner. Chris had noticed the pile of feathers in the corner of the barn. His stomach gave a slow, audible growl. It had been a few hours since he had eaten at Mrs. Jennings. Liza snickered and pointed again towards the kitchen, “There’s soup there on the stove.” He didn’t bother pouring it into a bowl. There was enough left in the pot for him and not much more. It was still warm too. He grabbed a spoon, an oven mitt and sat on the sofa and ate.

  “Where’s Carrie?” he asked, trying not to slurp. The soup was full of carrots and potatoes as well as cubes of pork, yum...Butt Roast sure had turned out to be one fine-tasting beast.

  “Asleep,” Fenton yawned, “in her own bed where she belongs until tomorrow.”

  “Remember, its bad luck to see your bride before the wedding,” Liza grinned playfully, and wagged her finger, “Don’t go sneaking a peek before tomorrow.” The evening ended quietly. Chris excused himself at the same time as Fenton and lay down in his room, alone in the bed.

  He stared into the dark, unable to sleep as the hours ticked by. He thought of Jess and his parents, all dead, their bodies’ cold in the ground. If they had been lucky enough to be buried. He thought about Allen and Toby, even Easter and Burton, and all of the nameless others. Chris wished that Carrie was tucked close beside him and he thought of the child growing inside her. So much death, and yet right now, in the face of that death and pain, the promise of new life. How he missed Mom and Dad and Jess. How they would have loved Carrie and all the rest of the Perdue’s. How he wished things had been different!

  Without the war, and the Western Front, and all of the evil and pain he had seen, he would not be here. He would never have run into Fenton, met Carrie, or be getting married or expecting a child. To wish his parents, sister and friends to life, would mean the loss of all he had now. He wrestled with this, stuck in a loop of would have’s and should have’s. The clock chimed four a.m. before he finally drifted off to sleep.

  Joseph pile-driving into his stomach was his early morning wake up call. As he struggled to recover from the assault of an overly excited four-year-old, Liza materialized holding a huge mug of chicory coffee. It was an acquired taste, meaning that they hadn’t been able to acquire coffee and had been extending the stash by mixing it half and half with ground chicory, which grew on the roadsides and wild in fields. It didn’t have quite the same kick as coffee, but it was hot and who needed the full caffeine boost anyway? He muttered his thanks and tried not to spill it on his bare chest as he sipped and Joseph bounced.

  Liza took pity on him and grabbed Joseph in mid-bounce. “Come on Joseph, we have to get ready for the wedding.” The boy protested he wanted to open presents. “No Joseph, we talked about this. Tonight we’ll open presents.”

  Before the little boy could begin wailing in earnest, Chris reached over and pulled out a small box from the bedside table. Mr. Liles had given it to him yesterday, instructing that it was a present for Joseph from Chris.

  He’d winked at Chris, “Young man, you have enough on your plate with a little one on the way and a wedding tomorrow. Little Joseph will love these. And it’ll keep him quiet ‘til the ceremony is over.” The box was handmade, crafted out of a soft wood. The top slid off to reveal tiny, hand-carved wooden cars with tiny button wheels that turned on tiny spokes held in place with cotter pins.

  When Chris had looked over at Mr. Liles gnarled and twisted hands in surprise, the old man had laughed. “Oh my, no! My grandson made these years back when he still could manage to see all those details. He’s blind as a bat nowadays, worse eyesight than me!”

  Chris handed the box to Joseph, “Here Joseph, ‘cause today’s going to be crazy. I want to be sure and give this to you now.” The boy looked took the box, and Chris helped him with the lid. He squealed then and ran off to show the rest of the family his prize.

  “Good one, big brother.” Liza grinned.

  “I’m not your brother yet.”

  “All in good time.” She jabbed her finger in the direction of the closet, “Gramps found you a suit to wear. It belonged to Dad. But you’d best wash first. And hurry up about it, ‘cause, Carrie’s gotta get ready and that takes time.”

  “Say no more.” He headed to the garage, which shared a wall with the kitchen. No water pressure meant that all of their water was from the old well. Thankfully, this was close to the house and could be pumped directly into the kitchen via an old-fashioned pump. However, it did not extend to the bathroom.

  Earlier that year, Chris and Fenton had figured a way to run a mount a small sink high up on the shared wall and then run a pipe through the wall to the garage which
then emptied into a barrel mounted on concrete blocks five feet off of the ground. By slightly crouching under the spigot a person could take a rather Spartan shower.

  To be able to shower, one would load up the rain barrel by pouring buckets of cold water into the sink straight from the tap and alternating with water boiled in a pan. It took about a half hour to prepare all of the water needed for one short shower, and at this time of year it was freezing cold in the garage. The summer wasn’t so bad, but winter sucked and it meant that everyone, with the exception of Joseph who still got to bathe in the large kitchen sink, usually waited a week or so before bathing. In between full baths they would just wash their hair in the sink. It worked out well enough. Chris stepped into the frigid garage, washed down quickly and, teeth chattering wrapped the towel around his waist and sprinted back in.

  “Now go in your room and stay there until we tell you to come out,” Liza ordered. Chris rolled his eyes at this. He’d seen Carrie every day and night since he’d arrived here, it seemed like a silly ritual. But he let Liza push him into the room and promised he wouldn’t peek. The room was dimly lit and it looked as if it was beginning to snow in earnest. Big fat flakes were drifting down steadily.

  Carrie’s dad must have been slightly smaller than Chris. The pants fit fine, but the shirt was tight, especially around his shoulders and biceps. Outside of his room he could hear Liza and Carrie run past his door giggling like giddy schoolgirls. He combed his hair back and looked in dismay at the tie. How in the heck do you tie one of these things?

  He settled it around his collar, flipping it this way and that way while peering at his reflection in the mirror. The last time he had worn a tie was his senior graduation. That had been silly when you realize that his suit and tie were both covered by his graduation gown. His mother had put it on him, her hands moving with calm assurance as she made a perfect knot. He could see her face now, eyes shining with pride. College had been out of the question, what with the instability of the entire country and the dominoes of the collapse already beginning to fall. She had cried though, and then whooped and hollered with the rest of them as the caps had flown into the air.