“It’s the perfect thing to toast with,” Papin said. “It’s delicious, it fills you up and it’s dead expensive.”
“Maybe more than a toast, I want to give a prayer of thanksgiving,” Sarah said. “Because until the moment that I saw you two again, I’d forgotten what it felt like to be grateful for my good fortune.” She held up her cheese chunk and said, “To the three of us meeting safely again and to the journey ahead.” She popped the cheese in her mouth.
“Hear, hear!” Papin and Evvie both said, eating their cheese.
“Although, I must say, a hot bath would be good about now, too,” Evvie said with a sigh, prompting Papin and Sarah to burst out laughing.
“You old hag! You’re never satisfied!” Papin said, reaching out and shaking Evvie’s knee.
“You two obviously connected, I see,” Sarah said.
“Well, she’s a cheeky piece, it’s true,” Evvie said, smiling fondly at Papin. “But she’s also a treasure and, trust me, I’ve cause to know.” Sarah saw Evvie’s eyes fill with pain and she knew she was thinking of her daughter, Lexi.
Well, that’s fitting, Sarah thought. Take away a crap daughter and replace her with…she looked at Papin and smiled as the girl knelt behind Evvie and started to braid the older woman’s long hair.
…with whom?
Sarah turned back to the fire and stared into its depths again. The horses gave them the added benefit of serving as an early warning device in case anybody approached in the night. She could sleep soundly in front of the fire knowing, short of someone slitting the throats of the horses where they stood, that no one could surprise them.
She turned back to see that Papin had tucked Evvie into her blanket and pulled her own cover around her shoulders. She nestled close to Evvie and closed her eyes briefly, as if relishing the sheer closeness of the other woman. It drove a needle of sadness into Sarah’s heart to see it. Poor little motherless Papin.
Before Sarah took her place against her own saddle for the night, she did a slow and thorough perimeter check to make sure the horses were fine and that no sound or light was evident on the horizon. It was as quiet a night as one could experience, she thought. So still and dark, it truly felt like the end of the world.
Back at the campsite, she could see that Papin, like the child she was, had lost the fight to stay awake. She was curled up to Evvie, who had one arm around the girl.
“She’s knackered,” Evvie said in a whisper.
“I thought you were, too.”
“Oh, I am. We left Carmarthen before dawn this morning.”
“You made it here in one day? Well, I guess you would, on horseback.”
“There’ll be room for the girl at the place we’re going?”
“Of course.”
“And she’ll live with us? And your boy?”
Sarah tossed another big piece of wood on the campfire. “That’s the plan.”
“It’s almost like the new family unit after The Crisis is a bunch of patched-together misfits and orphans who need each other.”
“Maybe that’s the best kind of family.”
“Maybe.” Evvie used her free hand to smooth the loose hair from Papin’s untroubled face as she slept.
“You going to be okay, Evvie?”
Evvie looked at her with a questioning look on her face. “Why do you ask, dear?”
“Well, I know riding beats walking but it’s still stressful.”
“I’ll be fine, Sarah. I’ve got my girls with me, don’t I?”
Sarah met Evvie’s smile with one of her own. “You definitely do.”
* * *
Mike sat on his horse at the fork in the path next to the stone cairn that marked the entrance to Donovan’s Lot. He had hand-stacked this cairn with Gavin the summer they’d celebrated a record harvest—their first after The Crisis. He’d meant to put a sign of some kind on it but everything he thought of sounded too poncey. They weren’t a country club for crissake.
At least from this vantage, it looked like the community was still standing. When the breeze turned, he could hear the light notes of children laughing. Always a good sign.
The trip to the coast had taken him two days. He’d allowed three for the ride back. The closer he got, the sicker he felt. He tried to remind himself that he’d only stay long enough to scrape together enough to afford a ferry fare and then he’d go back.
As cold as her trail would be by then, he knew exactly how futile the exercise was.
But it was all he had.
As he sat at the crossroads, bracing for his reentry into camp, he knew John would only have to see him ride in alone to know he hadn’t found her.
He sat a moment longer, straining to hear the sounds of camp from this distance, trying to feel the moment of relief he always felt at coming home again.
Instead, with deepening dread, he nudged his horse past the cairn stone stack and down the dirt road that led to Donovan’s Lot and his people.
* * *
The next morning, Sarah was sorry she hadn’t taken the time to try to hunt a rabbit or hedgehog or something the night before. As a result, they had to start their journey with empty stomachs, and while the rain looked to be holding off, Evvie was already uncomfortable.
“It’s just my arthritis,” she said. “It comes on with weather.”
“But it ain’t raining, Granny,” Papin said, looking up at the grey skies.
“No, dear, it’s the threat of rain that brings on the misery in my joints.”
When they were all three mounted, Sarah took Evvie’s reins and led the way out of the pasture and across the field. She knew she wanted to stay away from any roads, but sooner or later they would come to a stonewall they would need to get across and she wasn’t at all sure how they would manage that.
She and Papin could probably jump the walls but it was taking a chance. If the horses weren’t jumpers, they risked broken bones, or worse. Sarah had to admit it would be pretty terrible to come all this way only to end up with a broken leg because she’d been too impatient to walk around a fence.
Tempted to trot, Sarah forced all of them to stay at a steady walk. The last thing they needed was an unexpected pothole to either lame one of the horses or unseat one of them. She sat straight in her saddle and massaged a kink out of the small of her back. The Glock had turned into the heaviest possible encumbrance to traveling, but the security it brought was worth it. She had now lost enough weight that she was able to fold down the waistband of Denny’s jeans, allowing her to once more tuck the gun against the small of her back.
Just before lunch—which was the last of the now stale bread and remnant salami—Sarah made the painful but necessary decision to add extra miles to their trip when she realized that the thirty kilometers were measured by travel along the Clarbeston Road. Skirting the road by staying out in the open in the fields made her feel safer against the threat of Angie finding her, but it was at the cost of at least two more days traveling.
The three rode in silence until nearly dark. Twice Sarah had to dismount to try to reorient herself as to their location. Once, she sent Papin off to find anyone who might be able to give directions. It served the added benefit of allowing Evvie to rest. She looked to Sarah as if she were barely managing to stay upright in her saddle.
Papin came back from her expedition with the report that there was nobody on the road to ask. By Sarah’s calculations, they were, more or less, on track to hit the coast by late the next day.
As the late afternoon gave way to early evening, it began to rain. By the time they set up camp—one that clearly wasn’t going to have the benefit of a campfire—the lightning began to light up the sky with regular intervals. It had been awhile since Sarah had had to endure a full-on storm of any strength. And always then, she had been sheltered in a cottage. She could see that Evvie looked worried.
Did the Welsh get tornadoes? she wondered. Or hurricanes? Back in Florida, where she was from, it would be nearing the end of
hurricane season.
“We gonna be okay, Sarah?” Papin asked as she and Evvie huddled under a stand of trees, the water pouring off the leaves and branches and affording little protection from the rain.
“We’ll be wet,” Sarah said. “And hungry. But we’ll be fine.” She hated to reward them all after such a long day of riding with a cold, wet night and no dinner, especially Evvie, who looked like she was having trouble breathing. But what else could she do?
“One more night and then we’re at the coast and on the boat,” she said. “We’re nearly there.”
Evvie nodded miserably and Sarah couldn’t help but notice Papin’s worried looks in her direction.
“Tell you what. How would you two like to sleep in a warm tent tonight with a fire right in the center of it?”
Papin’s thin shoulders began to shake under her wet jumper. She looked at Sarah with trust and expectation. “Don’t tease us.”
“In my country, Indians make teepees with a hole in the top so they could have their campfires inside and I think we can fashion something like that using our blankets and this old widow-maker.”
The dead tree she indicated was easily fifteen feet tall and caught in its fall by two smaller trees beneath it. By stretching their blankets and securing them to the adjacent saplings near the widow-maker, Sarah was sure she could fashion a rudimentary tented lean-to. She grabbed her knife and began stripping one of the saplings nearest her of its branches.
“Do you really think so, Sarah?” Papin asked, looking at the skinny trees that surrounded them.
“My brothers and I used to make them all the time up in north Georgia,” Sarah said. “I don’t remember ever doing it in a thunderstorm, but the principle is the same. Evvie, you just sit tight. Papin, go stand over there with the ponies and make sure none of them gets an idea to bolt out of here.”
Papin nodded and moved out from the meager shelter of the trees to stand with the horses. Sarah could hear her soft voice under the sound of the rain as she talked to the animals.
She worked quickly to pull together the tree fort by stretching their blankets on the sapling notches and leaving a large gap in the top for the smoke to come out. As soon as she could she ushered Evvie inside and settled her down next to one of the saddles. She opened her shirt and dumped out the armful of twigs and kindling she’d collected when she built the tent, and handed Evvie the flint and the knife.
“Th—there’s no tinder,” Evvie said, her hands shaking with the cold.
“I know. Sit tight.” Sarah went out to where Papin stood with the quivering horses. “Papin, you got any money?”
“Money?”
“Yes, as in bills?”
Papin lifted her sweater away from her waistband and pulled out a slim wallet, which she handed to Sarah. “Why do you need money?”
“I don’t, specifically,” Sarah said, pulling out several bills and handing the wallet back to her. “I’ll call you when the fire’s going.”
She hurried back to the tent and knelt next to Evvie and began crumpling up the pound notes. “Not really good for much else,” she said as Evvie struck a spark off the flint and caught the paper money. Sarah quickly tucked it under the kindling and the fire grew.
“Oh, thank you, Sarah,” Evvie said, her voice quivering. She held her hands out to the little campfire and watched the smoke escape up and out the top of the tent. “I don’t think I could have endured a whole night wet and cold.”
“I think we need to get you dry somehow, Evvie,” Sarah said, eyeing her critically.
Papin entered the tent. “Blimey, I’m freezing.”
Sarah disappeared outside and returned with a long stick in her hands. “Get as close to the fire as you can, Evvie, and slip off your cardie.”
“I don’t think I can bear to.”
“Okay, never mind.” Sarah shrugged off her own thin jacket and stuck it on one of the sticks. She handed it to Papin. “Over the fire, not in it. I’ll be back in a sec.”
A mighty crack of thunder coincided with her squeezing back out of the small-tented enclosure. Papin squeaked at the sound of the crash and dropped Sarah’s jacket into the fire, nearly extinguishing it. Hurriedly, she pulled it out and began blowing on the embers again to bring the fire back to life.
Sarah trotted over to where the ponies were hobbled. She was tempted to unhobble them. If they got spooked enough they could really hurt themselves trying to flee. On the other hand, tying them up would be even more dangerous. She pulled the saddle off her horse—the only one who had yet to be untacked—and carried it back to the tent. Standing a few feet outside, she could see the smoke coming out of the top in an orderly slim line. She could make out the shapes of Evvie and Papin inside and felt a rush of gratitude that she had been able to provide some kind of shelter against the terrible night. She parked her saddle in the opening of the tent and pulled out her backpack from where she’d tied it to the saddle.
“Check the jacket, Papin. It won’t be dry but it’ll be better than what she’s got on. Evvie, take off your cardie.”
“Oh, God, it’s so cold,” Evvie said through chattering teeth as she peeled her wet sweater off and handed it to Papin. She pulled on the jacket and Sarah had the satisfaction of hearing her friend groan with ecstasy. “Ohhhhh! Sooooo warm!”
“Good. And here’s dinner.” Sarah handed Evvie a chunk of bread.
Papin was arranging Evvie’s sweater on the stick and her eyes were large. “Where did you get that?”
“I put it in my bag yesterday and then thought we’d already eaten it. I’ve never been so glad to be forgetful in my life. Here’s yours.” She handed another large piece of bread to Papin, who held it in her free hand and looked at Evvie and then back at Sarah. “Well, it’s not the Dorchester,” she said with a grin, “but it’s not shite either.”
“Remind me to needlepoint that on a pillow when we get home,” Sarah said, taking a bite out of her own bread. “Might just be our new family motto.”
* * *
It was another night that Sarah knew she didn’t have to worry about someone sneaking up on them. No one in his or her right mind would be out on a night like tonight.
* * *
“Tell us about your David,” Evvie said to Sarah, though Sarah’d been sure everyone had dozed off. Soft snores came from where Papin was curled up by the fire.
“I’m really not in the mood, Evvie.”
“I know you miss him terribly.”
“Same as you and your Mark. It’s just easier not to think of him, and what happened, when I’m trying to be strong and do what’s necessary.”
“I understand. Well, can you tell me about this Donovan chap, then? The one who’ll be taking us all in?”
Sarah listened for a moment to the sounds of the rain as it continued to bear down on the little tent and the surrounding trees. Twice she’d gotten up to check on the horses and had to re-dry her wet t-shirt before putting it back on. “Mike is like this ultimate paternalistic leader. He likes to be in charge and he’s good at it so people pretty much let him lead the way.”
“My. An Alpha male.”
Sarah grinned at Evvie. “What’s that mean?”
“Oh, I’ve read my share of romance books, Miz Scarlett. I know the sounds of a stubborn but natural-born leader.”
“I guess so. I mean, before The Crisis he was probably this way, too. He thinks everyone should just fall in line and do it his way. He’s not a bully. He just has his own way of seeing things and pretty much encourages you to see things that way, too.”
“You like him.”
“Everybody likes him.”
“Oh, sure because that’s what I meant.”
Sarah wagged a finger at her. “There’s nothing between me and Mike. I like him. And he’s exactly what the community needs—a strong leader who’s willing to work hard to make the group safe.”
“He’s like a papa that takes care of everyone,” Papin said sleepily.
“Exactly. I guarantee you both will love him.”
“Do you love him?” Papin asked.
“Alright, enough of that. Why don’t we all go to sleep? It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”
“Can’t you tell us a little something about the new world you’re bringing us to?”
“I thought I just did.”
“Well, how about your son? What’s John like?”
Sarah hesitated and looked into the fire. It occurred to her that she had been working very hard not to think of John, not to picture his face, not to remember his voice. It was just too painful while they were still so far apart. And because as soon as she saw him she knew the reunion would be bittersweet.
David.
Sarah pushed the accompanying image out of her head. The picture of David slumped on the ground, his hands lifeless in his lap, his dear head turned away, never to look at her or smile or…
“Sarah?”
She shook herself out of the mood and threw a small stick onto the fire. “John is like most twelve-year-old American boys: he loves his iPad and video games, plays soccer at school and is addicted to Netflix.”
There was a pause and then Evvie said, “Except, of course, he doesn’t do any of those things any more.”
Sarah felt a wave of exhaustion crash down over her. Evvie was right, of course. John was no longer that little boy who had climbed into his airplane seat a year ago full of questions and concerns about keeping all his electronics charged.
He was somebody different now.
“Well, he’s safe,” Sarah said. “And right now, from where I’m sitting, that’s the only thing that really matters.”
“How do you know?” Papin asked.
Evvie patted the girl’s hand. “To a mother, the world would smell different, feel different without him in it. You’d know. When I think of my Mark, there’s something about the thinking of him that makes me feel…that he’s not in the world anymore.”
“Oh, Evvie…”
“It’s true. I know Mark isn’t coming for me. I know he’s not trying to find me because I can feel that he’s gone.”
Going Gone, Book 2 of the Irish End Games Page 17