“In fact I could have been one of the folks training bums to be cooks, but Ashwood interested me more.” He smiled. I noticed the warmth ended in the darkened shadows below his gold-brown eyes. While the resonance of his voice politely demanded respect, the folksy Southern cadence had disappeared. “I’m sure Matron Anne will give you all the details of just how bad things are on this estate. The way I see it, you all are fortunate that I’m a good provisions manager and a top-notch chef. ”
“That’s all Bureau bullshit,” Tia responded. “This is my home, and I’m the one who gets to say who will prepare the food on my table.” Her words ran together, undermining any logic. “It’s that simple. I’ll call the DOE.”
“I’m tired of this discussion, Tia,” David said. “You’re acting like Barbara with all this complaining about how unfair the world has been to you.”
Tossing her curls, Tia stepped close to her husband and raised her right hand. In real life, I had never seen anyone slap her spouse. Instinctively I moved in, not sure if my plan was to grab her arm or stand between them.
Terrell was quicker, his work-strengthened arm bringing hers down with respectful firmness. He spoke to her with a voice meant only for her.
“I used to drink, Director Tia, so I can guess where your head is right now.” Petite Tia, dressed in her childlike clothes, shook his hand from her arm. He stayed by her side as he spoke. “Things got to change here, and they will. Just understand I don’t let nobody hit nobody where I live. We adults got a bunch of kids studying our every move, and under my watch they’re not going to see that kind of violence. You want to hit when you drink, buy yourself a good pillow.”
Her fists clenched. “You have no idea what my life is like.” Her words came out slurry. “You’re a cook, responsible for making soup and canned apple sauce for fifteen or twenty people. Try designing renewable energy sources so millions of people can live in warm houses.” One hand punched the air between them. “Try carrying that on your shoulders every minute of every d-a-y.” Her chin dropped, shoulders hunched, and I wasn’t sure if she was trying to choke back sobs or if her last drink was threatening to spew.
David’s hands were now in his pockets. His face showed concentration, but I didn’t see any inclination to sooth Tia. Barbara probably cared for Tia during these bouts of uncertainty, played the mother and nursemaid, provided quality booze when nothing else worked. Maybe Terrell’s assignment to Ashwood signaled a time of tough love for Tia. Beyond the discomfort of the current scene, I wondered if there was something I didn’t know about why he was the right cook for this estate.
Intensity needed a dial down. Not sure where I’d go, I stepped in. “Perhaps, we …”
“Miss Tia, don’t pull that kind of burden on your shoulders.” Terrell ignored me. “There’s no one in this room who knows how this whole world is going to make it through the next five, ten or hundred years. If you died tomorrow, your very young name would be attached to so much already. No need to go too fast and burn out too early.”
Tia stood tiny and defiant. Terrell continued talking just to her.
“You’re surprised I know these things. Just a cook responsible for soup and applesauce is what you think, but I had a life before the tough times. You take care of yourself, and we’ll help you. And we’ll all work together.”
He turned from her, slid off his toque. “Lunch is ready. One of the workers will set the table while you wash. When you’re ready, Ladd will serve.” With a half bow, Terrell turned and walked to the kitchen.
Tia followed him, feet moving in quick steps as if attempting to close the distance between them.
“Where are you going, Tia?” I heard fatigue under David’s words.
“To wash.”
“Not in the kitchen. We don’t wash in the kitchen.” He took a few steps and took her arm. “Come on. Let’s go to our quarters.”
Stopping, Tia shook off his hand. Dining room furniture stood out of place, a worker’s neck scarf lay on the floor, but I waited for the next scene to develop.
“That’s right,” Tia said with more acceptance than I thought she might volunteer. “Lead the way, David. Lead the way.”
12
Shortly before noon, David, Tia, and I sat at the dining room table. While wind-driven snows plastered the windows, David bent his head to slurp Terrell’s thick vegetable stew. I wondered if he was listening to sports through an earplug and chose not to talk. Tia sipped water, poked around in her bowl with a spoon and eventually ate. No one spoke during the first minutes of the meal.
The Regans’ semi-arranged marriage would never be labeled a government success story. Perhaps in a computer match, David’s Midwestern four brothers and stable farm family balanced Tia’s East Coast passionate only-child urban upbringing. She demanded and he patiently responded, even if more like indulging a special pet than a beloved spouse. Her file suggested a tendency for engaging in casual sexual relationships. Contrary to Tia’s flippant comments about her husband’s interest in anything female, his file implied marital fidelity or successful discretion. They behaved more like dorm roommates with privileges than husband and wife.
Wondering if they spoke to each other outside of Ashwood, I broke the silence to ask questions about their most recent travels.
“Well, the pollution in Missoula was annoying,” David volunteered now that his bowl sat empty. “Damn air inversion kept everyone wearing masks outside. On good days, that city is a gem, but I don’t know how people work during air-alert days. Too many places burning dirty coal or wood products.”
He buttered another piece of bread, absorbed by that simple activity. Tia said nothing.
“Not only did Ashwood rank high enough to nab Terrell’s assignment,” I said just as David raised bread to his mouth, “he also brought significant food stores from his prior estate. The Bureau released everything that was preserved, cold stored, or newly harvested, which means our people will have enough to eat.” Tia played with her spoon. I couldn’t stop talking, trying to engage one of them and find a place we could begin building relationships. “I don’t know that I’ve ever heard the Bureau making that kind of transfer of goods. Their action acknowledges the importance of your contributions to the economy.”
A curve of David’s lips also raised the corners of his eyes. He finished chewing the bite of Terrell’s oat-crusted sour dough bread, but nodded as if to indicate pleasure in my comment. He swallowed before opening a new line of discussion.
“This snow is like gold in the Midwest. For the last seven years, Ashwood’s ended each primary growing season in mild drought.” He reached for even more bread and butter. “Tia, will the water filtration system handle this much snow?”
“I scrubbed through the weather bureau reports,” she said, sounding like a scientist with pride in this project. “The storage tanks should be fine.” She ran one hand through her hair, straightened her shoulders. She set her spoon in her nearly empty bowl.
Witnessing Tias transformation from defiant drunk to competent professional mystified me. Vamp, rag doll, emotional, analytical—she straddled multiple personalities.
She tapped one finger on her placemat. “If Magda is paying attention, she’s opened the overflow system. Not sure we’ve ever had the opportunity to really use full capacity. Remind me to review our conversion data this afternoon. We should be able to function totally off the water system for some time after this snowfall.”
They began an exchange about valves and pressure capacity. I gazed over David’s shoulder at the buildup of snow on the windows. Their discussion ended, and silence settled again at the table, allowing the winds to provide nature’s white noise.
With both hands, Tia pushed her place setting toward David before folding her arms on the table and laying her head down.
“You’ll be more comfortable in bed, Tia.” David stood, folded his napkin in an absolute square and placed it next to his silverware. “Matron, if you could help?” He moved behin
d Tia’s chair, settled hands on her shoulders, straightening her slight frame. She cooperated by standing. He motioned me to her side and to my surprise, stepped away.
“I have a conference in fifteen minutes. Be sure to take that scarf off so she doesn’t choke,” he said as he walked from the room.
Leading Tia toward their bedroom, resentful of playing babysitter to this inebriated woman, I wondered who on the estate should be responsible for her care. I led her to the bathroom, closed the door, straightened the bed from her morning nap.
She came out stripped of her overalls and everything else. In the cool of the room, I merely lifted the covers. She settled down and pulled me in to share a drunk’s sloppy kiss. I turned at the last moment, catching her lips and tongue near my left ear. She burped, an unsavory eruption of wine and soup, then turned away. I pulled the covers over her naked shoulder and left.
Ladd waited outside their door. “Magda needs to talk with you in the kitchen.”
We walked at his twelve-year-old pace back to the kitchen areas. “How’s working with Cook Terrell?” I asked using one of my rare times alone with the boy to learn more about what made him tick beyond eavesdropping.
“I like working outside better. But Cook Terrell keeps me busy, and I’m learning a lot. I bet I could take on Lana and make a better meal.”
His inflated self-opinion amused me. On the other hand, if Terrell handled the boy with the same command as this morning’s confrontation with Tia, Ladd could become a solid worker. “She kept everyone fed for many months and deserves respect for carrying that large responsibility,” I reminded him.
“I know, and now I feel kind of bad for complaining about stuff.” He stepped aside at the kitchen entrance.
Terrell already had the kitchen cleaned of the midday meal and prepped for evening. Magda stood on a throw rug, snow melting from her parka. Children scurried around the area, pulling on outdoor gear. Even Terrell appeared to be bundling up.
“The roads are blocked so our second-shift employees won’t be here. Jack can use Ladd in the livestock building to help with milking and feeding. Everyone else is needed to rake snow off the greenhouses roofs,” she said. “Lao says at this accumulation rate there’s too much weight on those buildings. The storm’s taking our daylight, so I’d like to get people working while we can still see each other out there.”
“Do you need me?”
“Unless you’re busy, yes. If our directors are available, we need them as well.” Magda put down her mug, raised the jacket hood of a worker. “Kids, gloves then mittens, hats then hoods. You’ll be wet in no time, and we’ll be shoveling at least an hour.”
“I’ll talk with Director David, put on my outdoor things, then join you.” I stopped as Magda snapped up Amber’s outdoor pants. “Do you think it’s a good idea for her to be out there? The wind’s strong.”
Magda’s voice suggested I was not responding as a toughened matron. “She’s a worker and all workers are needed. There is a heater unit in Building C that is not dependable, and she will move plants to a different area for me.”
I pulled on my outdoor things while calling David’s phone. He didn’t answer. Finally I rushed to the office building, chilled by the sound of blizzard-like winds as I passed through the connecting walkway.
He sat in his desk chair, his eyes focused on the storm. I knocked on the door frame, saw his gaze drop to a small screen on his credenza. He turned.
“I wasn’t able to enter my two o’clock conference. Weather must be interfering with communications.” Clear, bright light from a desk lamp painted his face with sadness as well as age. Squinting, he turned the lamp’s base away. “A message came in before we lost satellite contact. My daughter was born premature at nine this morning.”
“Is she healthy?”
“Perfect,” he replied.
“Congratulations.” I expected joy, not the sense of caution I heard under his words. “We’ll speed up preparing the nursery.”
He ran one hand through his hair. “You’ve been here a little over a week, have barely met Tia and me. Be honest—do you think this is a good place to raise a child?” His eyes darkened as when I’d met him hours earlier. “I don’t want to put you on the spot.”
A large branch cracked, falling to the ground yards from the building. Snow cascaded from the wounded tree, swirling in the wind’s fickle directions. I noticed other broken branches lying about the open space, felt a bit unnerved by the power of the storm as well as the depth of David’s question.
“David, I was married for almost three years to a man I met when we were sophomores at St. Olaf College. Even though we loved each other, there were times that being married was tough.” I didn’t freely speak about my husband or family, unsure that my emotions could be held within. But I felt that this man needed simple human assurances. “Richard wanted to work in Washington, D.C., and I wanted to stay in the Midwest. I wanted a child. He wanted to wait. Then he was killed in a car accident.”
Down the slight hill, Ashwood’s workers were blurry images surrounding a building. Winds hollowed out an area on one side of the structure while a drift reached almost to the roof on the other side.
“I would give almost anything to have had our child,” I continued without real certainty about where I was heading. “The first thing you shared with me this morning was very real excitement about this baby. If you are ready to be a father, that’s key. I’ll make sure your family is surrounded by people who will make this a good home for your daughter.” I smiled, one way to kill unwanted tears. “I promise.”
He smiled as well, although the darkness remained in his eyes. “You heard Tia say she didn’t want a child?” Snow cascaded from the pines, hiding our crew from sight.
I broke from my window watch and nodded to show David I understood there was a deeper question. “I’m guessing you’ll have to be the primary parent, but we’ll all support both of you. Don’t worry right now. Enjoy the experience, Dad.”
This time the smile looked bigger, his eyes changing emotion. “I wanted to be there when she was born. It was all arranged. Now with this snow, we won’t be able to even see screen images. I’ve scheduled us to leave tomorrow afternoon to meet her.”
“Before we celebrate, we’ve got an immediate situation here.” Again his emotional state changed as he listened. “Magda and Rashad need all hands to remove snow from the greenhouses. I’m on my way out. We need you and Tia as well.”
“Sure. We’ll be out in a few minutes.”
In an earlier era, a hug might have been in order to celebrate the birth of the child or provide comfort for his unhappiness. But David and I were almost strangers in today’s world, so we merely went our separate ways. Hugs and sadness belonged with the common people living in the cities or countryside beyond the government’s special estates.
13
Pine trees formed a windbreak lining the path from the residence’s working entrance to its production buildings. Strong winds plastered heavy snow on each tree’s widespread boughs, unifying the long stretch of tall green into a chorus line of frightening proportion. Footprints existed as mere suggestions in a walkway plowed earlier. By the time I reached the first group of workers, snow covered my hat and scarf and felt like tears on the tips of my eyelashes.
Terrell directed the workers group, leading them as they stood on the sloped roof side of the first greenhouse. With vision limited and winds strong, a guide rope wound around each child’s waist as a safety precaution. They moved in rhythm, lifting lightweight rakes toward the top of the building then dragging down the heavy snow. At the second building, Rashad supervised a similar group. At the last building, Magda and Lao worked with two of the older children. I counted heads. We were one child short, one short child.
I made my way to Magda. “Where’s Amber?”
“Terrell has all the young workers,” she said over her shoulder, never slowing her raking motion. “If you’re concerned about her, I’m rea
dy for her to work in this building.”
“She must already be inside or we’ve lost a worker. I counted carefully as I passed each group.”
“I sent her back to Terrell’s team. She might be on the other side of the building.” Magda stepped back as a small avalanche of snow began moving toward her chest. “I’m sure she’s over there. Go check.”
Walking back to the first building’s crew, I bent into the wind and felt it ease through every small opening in my layers of clothes. My throat frosted at a spot where my head cover and scarf met leaving a tiny gap for a pointed chilling blast.
“Terrell,” I called his name from an arm’s length away. “I’m here to relieve Amber and send her to move plants.”
“That’s where’s she is,” he said and named the workers in his crew. “We’ve got a spot on the end for you.”
I grabbed at Tia, motioning her to join this line. “Take Director Tia on your team. I’ll check the greenhouse.” Making my way through the heavy snow back to the last greenhouse sapped energy quickly. “Amber’s got to be in the building,” I yelled as I passed Magda. “She didn’t return to Terrell’s crew. I’ll check inside.”
Ashwood’s greenhouses gathered heat in water and rock, generated more warmth through carefully managed composting and relied on steam heat as a last resort. Each had its own foyer to a large planting space. I loosened my hat, scarf and gloves while entering the third building. Lights bathed the entire interior, water bubbled in fish ponds, all shades of green erupted from multiple levels of growing beds. Snow deadened outside sounds, insulating the interior from the wind’s howl. What I could not hear, or sense, was the breathing of a child.
“Amber.” I called her name in varying tones, first surveying the ponds, holding my own breath, afraid to find her floating among fish and water lilies. The scraping sounds overhead ended as I prepared to go back outside and start a team searching for a missing child, someone’s missing daughter.
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