“Well, he won’t hurt anyone else,” Trevor said, squeezing Christine’s hand.
“He did enough damage to last a lifetime,” Christine whispered. “I know Henry was only with us for a short time, but I really miss him. He was a good man.” She looked over at Holly, who had stretched out blocking the front door, still waiting. “Excuse me. I think I’ll take Holly out in the backyard to play for a while.”
“Before you go out, Christine, even though I’m sure this was an isolated incident, I think it would be a good idea for you to start carrying a gun,” the chief said. “Trevor carries, and I’m sure he could help teach you to shoot, and I’ll push the permits through.”
“It won’t be necessary for me to help, Marty. Christine has been shooting a long time and is a competition shooter,” Trevor informed him.
“I’m impressed, young lady. Where did you learn to shoot like that?”
“My dad.”
“I’d like to meet him someday. A man that teaches his child to defend themselves is my kind of parent,” Marty said.
***
Christmas morning dawned with dark skies that promised a cold rain.
“I’m sorry we don’t have a tree, Trevor,” Christine said frowning. “I’ve only been here for a few months and I don’t know where the artificial tree is or where the lights might be, probably in the basement somewhere.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Trevor replied. “It’s not necessary for us to be happy. Just think about all the people that have less than we do.” They chatted for a few minutes, munching on their morning toast and sipping coffee. “I remember reading once about a young man discussing his girlfriend with his father, and said he really liked her but didn’t know if he could live with her. His father said he was asking the wrong question. He should not ask if he could live with her, but if he could live without her. I found that very profound.”
Trevor stood and moved next to Christine, looking extremely nervous. He knelt down beside her. “I can’t live without you.”
“Trevor?”
“Will you marry me?” he asked, producing a ring box.
Her eyes widened and she found it hard to breathe.
“Please say something,” he pleaded.
“Yes,” she squeaked out, and he slipped the diamond and ruby ring on her finger.
***
“What are we having for Christmas dinner?” Trevor asked, still wearing his new dark green jacket.
“There’s one more turkey roast pan in the freezer, I thought it would be good to use it, and maybe some green beans or corn,” Christine said.
“Sounds good. And I suggest a bottle of wine to celebrate our engagement.” Trevor smiled. “I like the way that sounds: engagement. It’s a bit scary, and I know it’s sudden, but it feels so right.” He hugged her tenderly. “What would you say to some company tonight?”
“Who did you have in mind?” she asked, though she was sure who Trevor would invite.
“I was thinking Marty and Marion,” he replied. “I know they’re alone too, just like us. They don’t have any family in the area and never had kids. They might enjoy the socializing. Marty once told me that as the police chief it was hard for him to make friends.”
“I think that’s a great idea.” Christine knew she was lucky to have such a generous and thoughtful man in her life.
***
With a crack of thunder at noon, the sky finally started producing sheets of icy rain that continued well into the day, keeping everyone inside and off the roads.
***
“Dinner was wonderful, Christine, thank you,” Marion said.
“Well, it pretty much was just heating things up. I’ve never been much of a cook,” Christine admitted. “I’m thinking I need to learn though.” She smiled in Trevor’s direction.
She had heated the frozen turkey dinner in the oven, combined a can of green beans with a can of corn, made instant mashed potatoes, and thawed their last loaf of bread. She was realistic enough to know that wasn’t really cooking.
“If you would like, I could teach you,” Marion offered.
“You’d be learning from one of the best,” Marty said. “Marion is a great cook!” He patted his shrinking belly.
“I would really like to learn how to make bread. I’m thinking that’s really an essential thing to know how to do.”
Trevor lit a fire and opened a second bottle of wine and the four settled down to enjoy the warmth of the blaze.
Trevor stood. “I’d like to propose a toast: To my future bride.”
“Have you set a date yet?” Marty asked.
“Not yet, Trevor proposed just this morning,” Christine said, looking again at her new ring.
“That ring is stunning. Trevor certainly has good taste,” Marion remarked.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Trevor sat at his work station in the spare bedroom. He typed and read, typed and read, and then hit send. He went back to his banking program and checked his funds. They were lower than he would like, however he was still pleased. He knew it was because he was spending very little, just insurance and a minimal monthly electric bill. He had paid off the mortgages two years ago. The insurance claim on the Spring Hill store was approved and in process once they determined it wasn’t related to the earthquake. It would add a much needed shot in the arm to his bank account. When an answer came to his latest email he opened it right away.
“Christine!” He raced through the house looking for her and found her in the backyard playing catch with Holly. He lifted her off her feet, swinging her around.
“What is all this excitement?” she asked with a bewildered smile.
“Shipping has resumed! Apparently a new route has been found through the gulf. I put in an order and it should be here next week,” he paused for a breath. “We can reopen one of the stores!”
“Oh, Trevor, that’s wonderful. That means things are back to normal!”
“Not quite normal, babe, but it’s getting closer. This is an awesome way to start the new year.” He kissed her soundly. “Now that I know I can support us, let’s set a date and get married, Christine.”
“I’d like that, but I want my dad here, Trevor. I still can’t reach him. As soon as the phones are up again where he is, we will. Are you okay with that?”
“Yes, of course. Anything to make you happy.” He kissed her again and went back to the computer, deflated and worried.
***
“Trevor, come look! It’s snowing!” Christine shouted gleefully. The early afternoon sunlight had been replaced with dark clouds and a growing chill. Large white flakes drifted slowly from the sky. Holly chased the flakes, eating the fluffs when she could catch them. Most hit the ground, melting instantly.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Trevor smiled at her, his mood lightening some at her joy.
“It sure is.” She wrapped her arm around his waist, tucking herself under his arm. She shivered and then giggled with the thrill of seeing the snow.
“Do you have a shovel?” he asked seriously when the snow changed over to sleet.
“I’m sure there is one somewhere in the garage,” she answered.
“One? That’s all?” Trevor laughed.
“Yes, just one. My dad said he didn’t want me to ever have to shovel snow, that’s why we’re here in the south. The one shovel is for the steps, he said. Right now he lives where they get feet, feet of snow… at a time! I just can’t imagine it; how do they live like that? How do they ever get around?” she said incredulously.
Trevor laughed again, this time at her naiveté. “I’m sure they have it figured out, Christine.” He led her back into the warmth of the house, Holly following closely. The dog never let Christine out of her sight, he noted. “Years ago I spent six months working in Alaska. It snowed every day. And every day we shoveled it, and every day the snowplows came to clear the roads. Although it was something I got used to, I have no desire to live there again.”
CHAP
TER TWENTY-ONE
The shipment arrived on a balmy, fifty degree day. Trevor and Christine had spent two days dusting, sweeping, and washing the store floors. They were washing the windows when the big semi-truck pulled up in front.
Trevor stopped the driver before he could open the trailer doors. “We can’t take this in through the front. If you turn the corner there,” he pointed, “you’ll see the service road. It’s an easy pull in/pull out area. I’ll meet you at the back doors.” Smiling, he hugged Christine and opened the back doors to the Main Street store.
Carton after carton was loaded on the hand truck and guided down the portable ramp. As each item was unloaded, Christine checked it off the manifest, making sure they got everything they were being charged for.
When it was all unloaded, the driver handed Trevor the bill. “It’s C.O.D. Mr. Monroe. I can wait while you write a check.”
Trevor opened the envelope and gasped. He turned away from the driver and went inside.
“What’s wrong, Trevor?” Christine asked.
“Prices have literally doubled, and shipping has tripled,” he said, stunned. “People aren’t going to like paying this much.” He wrote out the check, made note of the check number and amount, and handed it back to the driver.
The driver offered his hand and Trevor shook it. “Thank you, sir. See you next delivery and I’ll be sure to remember to come in the back way.” He covered his mouth and coughed.
Back inside, Trevor pulled the shades down over the still dusty windows, making sure the front door was locked and the security gate was in place. He stood in the center of the store, hands on his narrow hips, head down.
Christine came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head against his back, not saying a word. He straightened his shoulders and let out a deep sigh. “It is what it is. I have no choice and they have no choice. Come on, let’s get things on the shelves. I want to open the doors in two days. I had hoped to open tomorrow, but it will take me an extra day to figure out the new prices.”
***
The delivery driver pulled off on the side of the highway. He was coughing hard, and unable to see the road. He took a sip of water when the spasms stopped, his forehead now damp with sweat. Knowing he still had two more deliveries to make, he chugged down some daytime cold medicine. When the deliveries were done, he’d find a rest stop and get some sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“You’re price gouging us! You know we can’t pay these prices!” a man yelled at Trevor.
“Andy, my supplier doubled the prices on everything, and the trucking firm tripled the delivery fee. What would you have me do? Give it to you at cost?” Trevor had never argued with a customer before.
“That would be a good start,” Andy said.
“Would you go to work every day, work for eight hours, and go home without even gas money? You don’t have to answer that, Andy, I know you wouldn’t. I have to make a living too, and for me to do that, I have to make a profit.”
“Can you prove they’re charging you more?” Andy sneered.
“Sure I can, but I’m not going to,” Trevor said, his voice even. “I don’t have to justify anything to you or anyone else. Now,” he lowered and softened his voice, “do you want this food or not?”
Andy dropped some bills on the counter, took his few cans of soup and stew, and then left, grumbling incoherently all the way out.
Christine came to the counter after Andy left. “I see what you mean about people not liking the new prices. You don’t have any choice, Trevor, I know that, and I think you handled that man perfectly.” She smiled at him. “I should finish washing these windows.”
The door chimed, letting them know someone had come in. Christine turned in time to see her former boss, Mary Jane, head down an aisle.
“Trevor, you know that the dental office I used to work at is across the street, right? That’s my former boss over by the coolers,” Christine said. “My first reaction is to hide in the back until she’s gone. After seeing how well you dealt with the last person, I think I’ll stay. Might as well get that first confrontation over with, right?”
Trevor grinned. “That’s my girl!”
Mary Jane set the six-pack of water on the counter, along with four cans of cream of mushroom soup and two cans of mushrooms. Then she looked up to see Christine behind the counter, and she smirked.
“I see you’ve found a job more to your skill level,” she jabbed. “I guess you’ll come off our unemployment now.”
“That was very unkind of you, Mary Jane, but I forgive you. And I’m not working here,” Christine said sweetly. “I’m just visiting my fiancé.”
Trevor started ringing up the items on the counter, his expression neutral. He gave her the total.
“What? That can’t be right. I’ve been getting the same items every week and have never paid more than ten dollars!” Mary Jane exclaimed. “Twenty dollars has got to be wrong.”
Trevor looked over the items and said, “You’re right, that’s the wrong total. It’s twenty two dollars; I forgot the new shipping surcharge. And you haven’t gotten these same items every week here, ma’am, because I’ve been closed since the earthquake.”
Mary Jane took the money from her wallet and paid for her items. Trevor handed her the change and she left without saying another word.
Once the door closed, Christine giggled. “The new shipping surcharge?”
“She deserved it for treating you so badly,” Trevor replied. “What a witch. How did you tolerate her for so long?” He grabbed a tissue and sneezed.
***
The delivery driver had given Trevor a flu virus, who in turn gave it to ten customers. Mary Jane gave it to the entire dental staff and twelve patients. It got worse from there.
***
“I feel horrible,” Trevor said, struggling to sit up in bed. “Can you open the store today?”
“I could, but I’m not going to. I’m staying here to take care of you,” Christine said. “The town is used to the store being closed, and we’re only open from noon until six now anyway, so another day or two won’t matter.” She sat on the edge of the bed and fed Trevor chicken noodle soup. When he fell asleep again, she called Doc Adams.
“There’s not much I can do for you, son. Half the town is down with this new flu and my resources are limited,” Doc Adams said to Trevor, putting his stethoscope back in his pocket. He handed Christine a box of face masks, a box of surgical gloves, and a bottle of pills. “The pills are antihistamines but keeping him elevated in a semi-seated position will help more to keep his lungs clear. And you,” he said to Christine, “never come in here without a mask and gloves.”
***
“How’s he doing?” Chief Mallory asked Christine. When he saw the store closed for a second day due to illness, he’d stopped to see them at home.
“There doesn’t seem to be any change, which Doc Adams thinks is a good sign,” Christine answered.
“It is,” Marty replied. “I’m sure the doc didn’t want to alarm you, but there have already been four deaths from this flu. Two elderly men, an asthmatic, and sadly, an infant. All of them had weak or compromised immune systems to begin with. How are you feeling?”
“Just tired, thanks,” she said. “I’m not getting much rest. I catch a nap here and there, but most of my time is taking care of Trev. I can’t lose him Marty, I just can’t!” Her lower lip quivered.
“The best thing you can do for him is to stay healthy yourself,” he said. “I’ve known Trevor for many years. I’ve seen him focused, I’ve seen him driven, but I’ve never seen him as happy as he’s been since you came into his life. He would never forgive himself if you caught this flu from him. Have you eaten today?”
“Yeah, when I heat up some soup, I give Trevor the broth and I eat the noodles. We’re both getting tired of chicken soup!” she laughed.
“I need to go and do rounds. Most of my men are out sick too.” Marty stood t
o leave. “Marion is going to stop by later.”
***
The knock on the front door woke Christine from her restless sleep. She dragged herself to the door and almost opened it without looking.
“Hi, Marion, come on in,” Christine said. “Marty said you would be by. What’s up?”
“I brought you some real chicken soup,” she smiled, “One with herbs that might help Trevor.” She set the pot on the stove. “Have you ever cooked with herbs?”
“I haven’t cooked with much of anything, to be honest. I’ve always just picked up something on my way home from work. And when my dad is here, we always go out.”
“There are many culinary herbs that are also medicinal,” Marion said. “Now don’t be telling Doc Adams about this, he’ll just call me a witch-doctor or something equally snarky.” She set a bag by the sink and removed a bouquet of leaves.
“What’s that?”
“This is sage, it’s often used as a poultry herb. The oils in the leaves also help reduce the swelling of the mucous membranes in the nose and throat, and it’s why chicken soup is good for colds.”
Christine picked up the bundle and sniffed it. “It doesn’t smell good, kind of musty,” she wrinkled her nose, and Marion laughed.
“Well, the tea we’re going to make for Trevor might not taste good either, but with enough honey, he should be able to get it down.” She set the kettle on to boil. “And these are for you.” She handed Christine a bottle.
The Journal: Fault Line (The Journal Book 5) Page 11