* * *
I wasn’t surprised to see Ken and Kristen standing hand in hand next to Lucy who was looking back for me and the twins were holding hands with Spencer. I smiled and walked as steadily as I could. The Chaplin married Ken and Kristen first, and then it was our turn. I repeated the vows and when it was done, I was almost knocked over by the kiss. All the pain, all the worry, all the guilt. Gone. It was the best day of my life. My friends, who were more like my family, were beside me. They all cheered and a louder roar came in behind them. I broke the kiss and saw the neighbors over by the community cooking pit and the smoker, and they were cheering.
I could smell the food. I’d been told that several deer had been taken and the neighbors were cooking it up.
I found out they’d donated a fair amount of potatoes to be cooked on the lowest rack of the smoker, and they’d been in there since the previous day. It rocked me. I’d started off putting up bigger, taller fences to keep the neighbors out, but since then, we had fought together, we had suffered together and it looked like we were sticking together. I couldn’t give everything I have away, I’d learned that, but what we had done was teach those who wanted to learn that survival isn’t easy, but it’s doable. And in a day or two I was going to learn how to drive the old combine and Ken was going to pull a trailer to catch the kernels.
It would be a boring diet for a while, but Americans had existed on corn and game for a long, long time. I had ideas of doing more, but for now what we had was probably going to be enough. Once I’d been given a plate of food, I sat down next to my beautiful wife, and George, Pete and Lieutenant Costello took spots across from me at the kitchen table.
“How you doing?” Costello asked me.
“Pretty good. Little wobbly still.” I admitted.
“Yeah, my medic said you’re probably on light duty for quite a while. Don’t get into any boxing matches,” he said with a grin.
“Don’t plan on it,” I grinned and shoveled some heavily salted pork in my mouth.
“Good. Listen, I’m going to be leaving you with three portable handsets. Your little solar gadget there won’t charge it. You’ll have to figure something out…”
He continued, but I was thinking about the panels I’d kept in storage. Not the backpack panels, but the boxed ones. We’d never put them up, because everything we’d had was fried and the little one charged the battery for the base radio just fine.
“Ok, thanks. I’ve got something that’ll work.” I told him.
“I can’t promise you won’t be raided again like you were, but hopefully with these and the equipment the looters left behind you’ll have a bigger tactical advantage,” he told us.
“Actually,” Pete said, “do you think it’s probable that there is going to be a next time? Won’t word spread and they’d want to leave the farm alone?”
“Maybe. C’mon guys, I have to go. Nice meeting you all.”
The Lieutenant stood and I followed him out.
“Thanks for the hospitality,” Lieutenant Costello yelled, “We’ll be back in the area in a few months to check in on you all.”
“Thank you Mr. Costello,” Brenda yelled.
“Hey Abbott!” somebody from the community yelled and I busted up laughing.
“There’s always one in every crowd,” the Lieutenant growled, “Mount up!”
I stood there and watched them leave, my arms around Lucy, with Spencer holding onto both of our legs in a crushing hug.
“You think we’re going to be ok?” Lucy asked me in a rare form of uncertainty for her.
“Yeah, yeah I do,” I answered and hugged her closer.
--The End--
About the Author
About The Author –
Boyd Craven III was born and raised in Michigan, an avid outdoorsman who’s always loved to read and write from a young age. When he isn’t working outside on the farm, or chasing a household of kids, he’s sitting in his Lazy Boy, typing away.
You can find the rest of Boyd’s books on Amazon here.
@boydc3
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Good Fences Page 25