After dinner was over and the younger audience made their way elsewhere to frolic, Bernie offered glasses of homemade sour mash from his private stock to anyone he considered old enough, bearing in mind that the laws regarding alcohol consumption were no longer in effect.
Not long after, and not wanting to be outshined, Santa disappeared to his truck and brought some of his own inside, adding it to the mix. While the children and younger attendees played games, sang, took turns playing Ruth’s piano with Dave, and enjoyed multiple snowball battles outside, the older generations enjoyed an evening of fellowship, reflection, and reprieve. A well-deserved one.
Lauren had been offered a drink by both Bernie and Santa, but she wasn’t feeling it today. Despondency had taken her over, and she was beginning to feel dismal and glum. Immersed in deep thought, she began feeling homesick. She hated being so far from home, so far from the ones she loved on Christmas.
In an effort to pacify her thoughts for a while, Lauren took her leave of the adults and wandered outside to join the children, soon finding herself wrangled into several intense snowball fights. She chose to join the team that Daniel and Lily had been playing on, which also happened to be the team with the scrawniest players in the lot. Lauren couldn’t help but root for the underdog, and with her help, the team pummeled their opponents a handful of times.
Just over a foot of powdery snow was caked on the ground, and it just kept coming with no end in sight. There was no technology available, no forecaster to offer advice, no radar indicating how much was on the way or when it would stop. The only thing anyone could do now was sit back, relax, and find the best way to enjoy it.
The snowball battles were competitive and exhausting, and it wasn’t long before Lauren reached the point of feeling beleaguered. She excused herself amidst jeers, challenging catcalls, and chants begging her to return. She kindly refused, stressing the need to rest and be alone for a while.
Lauren bundled up tightly in a new Arc’teryx parka that Santa had found for her and went for a walk along the riverbank, trying her best not to allow her ever-increasing sadness to get the better of her.
The sun had set behind the four-thousand-foot-tall Alleghenies to her west hours ago, and nearly all natural light had disappeared, making the use of a flashlight a necessity. The whiteout conditions from the heavy snowfall only made seeing all the more difficult. The snow heartlessly reflected her flashlight’s beam back into her eyes like a mirror, and at times, the showers fell in waves so thick, it was like walking through a wall.
She trudged through the piles of drifting snow while feeling it cake onto her pant legs and through the tops of her boots. She took careful steps, but halted occasionally to look up and catch the frigid snowflakes on her tongue.
Once Lauren was far enough away that she couldn’t hear the chants and cackles of the children playing and the sound of the river’s current became the only noise lurid enough to overcome the ambience, everything began hitting her all at once.
The precariousness of her life in the valley, and how hard it had become to protect herself and the ones she loved. The heinous acts of government agencies supposedly tasked with protecting people like her. People she knew, including one of her closest friends, becoming deathly ill from poisoning, of all things. Her decision to leave John and her family behind and encountering the most brutal of her enemies to date. Being captured, only to escape, and be captured again and imprisoned. The sensation of hopelessness and the feeling that she was going to die.
She recalled the look on Woo Tang’s face when he saw her, and the feeling she got upon realizing they were saved. How unnerving it had been to talk to Dave Graham again for the first time in forever, and having to explain everything to him. The heart-rending feeling she got upon learning about the children…and the look on Christian’s face when she told him she wasn’t going home.
Her considerations crashed in on her all at once, like the storm surge of a hurricane slamming into a shoreline. The emotional fire inside her that had been burning for as long as she could recollect was smothered, and consumed by a raging flood of emotion, and Lauren just broke down. It couldn’t be helped.
Lauren cried, nearly hysterically at first. She looked to the sky in desperation while the merciless snow fell in swathes, sticking to her face, nose, and lashes. She exhaled moist breaths into the dry air as her reflections simply devoured her. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered under her breath. “I’m sorry I’m so far away. I’m sorry I didn’t come home, and I know I shouldn’t be here right now. I should be there…in the valley with all of you, where I’m happy, where I’m warm, and where I’m loved. I’m such an idiot…I don’t know why I do the things I do sometimes.”
Lauren wiped a mixture of tears and snow melt from her face. “I’m sorry for hurting all of you—I never meant for any of this to happen. I miss you, Mom, and I’m sorry I make things so hard for you. It’s never been my intention. You’ve become so strong since all this started, since Dad’s been gone, and I know I’ve never told you before, but I am so proud to call you my mother. You told me one time that I was irreplaceable, and you have no idea how hard it hit me. I need you to know I feel the same way about you. And I love you to the moon and back.”
Lauren took in a deep breath and rubbed her eyes as more tears flowed in, replacing those wiped away. “And Grace, jeez…you can be such a righteous pain in my ass, and you’re a freakin’ bull in a china closet sometimes. I swear, you could probably screw up a two-car funeral if you tried…but you know something? You are, by and far, the most beautiful person I know, inside and out. You always find ways to surprise me and make me laugh, and you’re so mysteriously strong in all the ways I’m not. I’m lucky…so lucky to have you as my sister.”
Lauren hesitated. She sniffled and coughed as her sobbing became tumultuous. “And…John. Oh God, John, what have I done? I left you all alone…this isn’t how I wanted things to be between us. I never wanted to push you away or separate myself from you. I have to find a way to make all of this up to you, somehow, and I promise…I will. I’ll fix us. I’ll fix everything when I get back. I love you with everything I am. Dammit—I love all of you. I pray that all of you are well…and everything is getting back to normal finally. I miss you all. And I’m just…I’m just really sorry.”
Her throat drying up, Lauren tried hard to fight away the remainder of her tears. It was as sorrowful and nostalgic as she had felt in months, and now, she was a hundred road miles from home on Christmas Day, spending time with strangers, a group of people she felt she hardly knew. “You’re such a horrible person, Lauren,” she chided. “A class act. A bona fide magnificent, fucking tragedy.”
“Who are you talking to out here all by yourself?” an older man’s voice called out from behind her.
Sniffling, Lauren jerked her body around. While one hand fell instinctively to the Glock holstered on her thigh, she aimed her flashlight to find Bernie’s face amidst the whitewash of heavily falling snow. Cyrus the Labrador was at his side, and once he saw Lauren, he bounded through the snow and jumped on her.
She grabbed his ears and petted him, brushing the snow from his head. “I wasn’t talking to anyone.”
“Oh, okay. Heard Cyrus whining about something…so I followed him and thought I heard somebody crying. I didn’t mean to intrude, even though I tend to do it more by accident lately than anything else.”
“It’s okay. Really…you didn’t do anything wrong,” Lauren said, going nose to nose with Bernie’s dog.
“He botherin’ you?”
Lauren shook her head. “No…no way. He’s amazing.”
“You’re sure? I know he can be a pest,” Bernie said. “Me and that mutt got a lot in common…we both forget where we’re at sometimes. Thank God he’s got a good sense of direction, because I sure as thunder don’t. Sometimes I forget where I was headed, even where I was coming from. The better half says I got signs of dementia, but like I keep trying to tell her, last time I ch
ecked, she didn’t have a degree in neurology. I prefer to call it…old-timer’s. It’s kind of a play on words, you see. Sounds like Alzheimer’s, but it’s old-timer’s instead. I’m not sure if I can claim it or not though, because damned if I can remember whether or not I made it up myself.” He paused, scratching at his temple. “See? Must be the old-timer’s.”
Lauren chuckled inwardly through her sorrow, which seemed to fade away with each lick of Cyrus’s soppy tongue. “That’s funny…I suppose, and yes, I’m sure. You’re no bother to me, and neither is this puppy of yours.”
Bernie sucked on his teeth and nodded. “Okay. I guess you were talking to yourself out here, or maybe praying…either one, or neither, it’s all fine, well, and good. We don’t discriminate against anyone’s beliefs around here.”
“I was just thinking out loud,” Lauren said. “I wasn’t praying, even though I probably should. It’s been years since I prayed.”
Bernie smirked. “It does a body good, you know—prayer, that is. Believe it or not, the better half and me have been doing quite a lot of it as of late. After we lost power a while back, seemed like the right thing to start doin’, you know?”
Lauren smiled warmly at him. “I tend to think out loud when I’m alone. I don’t know, maybe God considers it prayer in some way.”
“Young lady, you might be onto something,” Bernie said. “He’s always listening.” The old man took a few steps closer, the dimness of his flashlight beam reflecting off the snow. He picked up on the redness in Lauren’s swollen eyes. “I’ll be doggone. You have been crying.”
Lauren hesitated, turning her head away. She sighed. “Yeah. I guess I have,” she said, almost in a whimper.
“What on earth for? Something you ate didn’t agree with you?”
Lauren chuckled through her nose. “No, it’s not that. Dinner was remarkable. Best I’ve had in a long time.” She paused. “It’s just that it’s Christmas…and I miss my family. I could’ve gone home to them a few weeks back and I didn’t. I decided, instead, to go with Dave and his crew.”
“Why did you do that for?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess there was something inside me I needed to figure out.”
Bernie squinted and leaned over, an inquisitive look on his face. “You don’t say? Did you get it all taken care of?”
Lauren nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”
“Well, that might explain the melancholy, then,” Bernie said. “It’s easy to hold back on what really matters when you got other things blocking the road your emotions want to take. Life’s funny like that sometimes.” Bernie acted like he was going to walk away, but stopped after taking a couple of steps. “Lauren, I got a question hanging on the edge of my thoughts that I’ve been meaning to ask you, but I don’t want to pry, and I don’t want to bother you about it. But it’s something that’s been on my mind since you got here today.”
Lauren sniffled and looked to him with interest. “You can ask me anything you want. Especially after that dinner.” She poked at her stomach.
Bernie nodded, and his mouth unbolted, exposing his toothy grin. “I’m very glad you enjoyed it. We don’t get to have those kinds of spreads too often, but when we do, we pull out all the stops. Adds normalcy to the mix. And it’s good to feel normal every once in a blue moon.” He paused, looking away a moment. “Now, like I said, I don’t mean to pry, but I’m a curious person by nature, and when I see something that ain’t quite right, I tend to ponder it until I lose sleep.”
“I’m the same way.”
Bernie scratched his head. “Well, you see—I’m confused. You mentioned a minute ago that you missed your family…and I’ve been wondering why you showed up at my doorstep today with Lieutenant Graham and his soldiers, of all people. Where is your dad and the rest of your family, Lauren?”
Lauren glared at him sharply. She was growing tired of offering explanations and answering questions about her father, but she knew, just like so many others, it wasn’t his fault for asking. “My mom and my sister and my boyfriend, John, and his family…and pretty much everyone I know and care about are all back in Trout Run Valley, near Wardensville. We moved there a few months after the collapse when some really bad things happened in our neighborhood. As luck would have it, though, we’ve had to fight to keep everything and to stay alive, even after our move. Things have been getting progressively worse for us ever since, and it reached a point a few weeks ago that if it weren’t for Dave and his crew, you wouldn’t be talking to me today.”
Bernie pursed his lips as a look of trepidation washed over him. He folded his arms across his chest and rocked on his heels in the snow while it continued to pile around his legs. “I see,” he said. “You’ve been through a lot. I’m sorry to hear of it. How’s your dad been handling all this?”
“I wish I knew. He…never made it home.”
“He never made it home? What exactly does that mean? Where was he when the stuff hit the fan?”
Lauren shuddered a bit, both at the chill in the air and the bitterness in Bernie’s inquiry. “At work. In the city.”
Bernie cocked his head. “Where? The District? Washington?”
“Yeah…”
“In that federal building near the White House?”
“What? What federal building?” Lauren quizzed, her face tightening.
“The one he told us about.”
“What?”
“’Deed he did. Last time we spoke, he gave us the scoop,” Bernie explained. “Said he’d be working in some federal building. Department of State, methinks…two blocks away from the White House—the president’s residence. Seemed awfully concerned…told us he had a plan, though. He had everything worked out if something were to happen, and proposals laid out to get himself back home even if his car didn’t work.”
Lauren rocked her head back and forth as if trying to awaken herself from a dream. “I’m sorry…now I’m the one who’s confused. This isn’t making any sense.”
Bernie slapped his hip. “Lord Jesus, I’m sorry, sweetie. Damn this old-timer’s. I just assumed you knew.”
“You assumed I knew what?”
“I assumed you knew about the plan.”
Lauren’s eyes narrowed. “What plan?”
Bernie’s features softened, and the genuine smile Lauren had seen him offer her and her father on the day they had first crossed paths extended across his face. “His plan to keep you safe, dear. His plan to protect you and your family in the event something unforeseen came to pass.”
Lauren didn’t say anything. She could feel her pulse quicken as her mind raced through the possibilities. She felt like she had somehow been betrayed, like she’d missed out on something somewhere along the way. What did all this mean? She wanted to know more. She needed to know everything.
Bernie continued. “I don’t know all the details, of course. I just know that he had us planning for something—something real big. Something your father had a premonition about…and he just knew was on the horizon.” He paused. “Ruthie and I came to that same conclusion a long time ago ourselves. As such, we started making our own plans way back when. I’m sorry about this, Lauren. This wasn’t how I envisioned this conversation was going to go. I can tell I’ve made you feel uncomfortable, and that wasn’t my intention.”
Lauren’s face contorted as she brushed the caking snow from her shoulders. “Uncomfortable doesn’t describe half of what I’m feeling right now.”
“Want me to go on? Or stifle myself and leave you be?”
“No!” Lauren snapped. “By all means, go on.”
“Okay. Well, this whole thing just sort of fell together before our eyes,” Bernie began. “I suppose it might’ve been the mention of the farm that caught his attention. Maybe it was the valley or the river, or the fact we’re far enough west and away from population that did it, not exactly sure. But we exchanged information and met back at Dolly Sods on a Sunday and had quite the conversation over some tas
ty chai tea he brought along. Then we left and drove down to a little mom-and-pop café not far down the road and had coffee. Your dad bought us lunch…grilled cheese, from what I recall, and we had ourselves a grand conversation…found out we were the same type of people. The like-minded type.”
Lauren squinted. “Like-minded?”
Bernie nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Like-minded. Folks able to think for themselves and read between the lines. Good-hearted and genuine, who share an understanding with one another so they can lean on each other if and when hard times come around…if you catch my meaning.”
Bernie pushed through the snow and put his hand on Lauren’s shoulder. He could see that she had become exasperated and tried thinking of ways to lighten the mood a little. Then it dawned on him. “Part of your dad’s plan was coming here eventually. In fact, he brought some things here, quite a bunch of stuff, actually. For you and your family. We set aside a spot in the barn just for it.”
Lauren perked up slightly, but still looked perplexed.
Bernie scratched his temple again. He removed his cap and smacked it on his leg, clearing off the snow. “We didn’t ask him what he brought, even though he insisted on it. Called it full disclosure. I told him a handshake was fine, and it wasn’t a real estate deal, but that didn’t matter to him. He didn’t want to put us out in any way. Your dad is something else, I tell you. I think he wanted us to know the contents of all them boxes and crates so Ruthie and I could use it for ourselves if something happened and y’all never made it, even though we never would’ve. We’re not those type of folks.” He paused, patting his leg for Cyrus to come to him. “Want to see for yourself? You could pretend it’s like opening gifts….it is Christmas.”
Lauren sniffled a few times and wiped her nose. “I do. But only if you don’t mind.”
“Sweetheart, it’s your stuff, not mine. Your father made arrangements with us to keep it here because he wanted options for his family for the future. And somehow you made it here today, and darn near as I can figure, the future he was planning for has somehow become our present.” Bernie shifted to the side and held his hand out to Lauren, motioning her to follow him. “Come on. Let’s you and I get out of this weather before we get buried alive in it. It’d be a shame to have that etched on my grave.”
Divided We Stand Page 33