Outside the Fire

by Boyd Craven

  Angela looked at her daughters and made a motion with two fingers pointed at her eyes and then back at the daughters, who were sitting in the back of the truck. Message received: “I’m watching you.”

  “I think I’m lost here,” Steve said.

  “We joked that that girl over there is your girlfriend,” Amy said, happy to be helpful, “but mom didn’t sound very happy about it.”

  “Oh, crap,” Steve said.

  “Yeah, what was that about?” Angela asked, turning to Steve.

  “It wasn’t anything,” Steve said with a dramatic sigh. “I paid for each of our units with cash. She’s part of our congregation, and was there the day that me and Pastor talked about what we think might be coming. It was when we talked about putting together the community food bank. She was just…” Steve said the last word drawn out as he struggled to find the perfect way to phrase it, to say it in such a way that his wife couldn’t use it against him at a later date, “telling me how much she appreciated it.”

  “Yeah, but she still has the hots for you,” Amber snarked.

  “Shut up,” Angela and Steve chorused.

  Everyone busted up laughing. Everyone except for Steve, who joined up a moment later.

  Steve pulled up to the HOA community building and turned off the engine. The whole family got out, and Amber stayed back to see if the tarp in the back of the truck had stayed in place. They didn’t want to advertise the fact that they had loaded about 200 pounds of dry rice, beans, lentils, and some freeze-dried TVP in it and then left it unattended. Happy with the tarp job, Amber followed her family into the community center, which was unlocked.

  Jeff was sitting in a chair near the desk with his feet propped up and a paperback closed on his lap. The door closing behind Amber startled him awake. He must’ve been catching an afternoon nap in the community center, keeping it open for the residents.

  “Mr. Taylor,” Jeff said, a blank look on his face, “what can I do for you.” He wiped his eyes to rub away the sleep.

  His question sounded like a statement, which was an indicator of how hard things had been for Jeff lately. He couldn’t even fire up his usual ire in the face of the family that had thwarted his plans.

  Rumor had it, according to Matthew, when it was exposed that Jeff and Jeff’s wife might have had less than stellar motives for trying to run the Taylors out, they tasted a little bit of backlash of their own. There were rumblings in the community that some people didn’t trust him, they’d been there for so long that as long as he wasn’t actively going after the Taylors like he had that town hall meeting that turned into a brawl, they were willing to let the status quo go. Taylors – 3; HOA – 0

  “Just come back from church,” Steve told him, “and there’s something that we were doing with our church that maybe would help out the community—I mean the subdivision,” Steve said.

  “Oh yeah? What do you mean?” Jeff asked, his voice more quiet than it ever had been before.

  “We’re Lutheran, and much like the Mormons, our church tries to be a little bit prepared. Our church family and our church community started putting together a food bank for those in need.”

  “Are you saying…wait a minute, what are you saying?”

  “We notice that this community’s folks seem to be going through some really hard times. We’d like to help,” Angela said, chiming in before Steve had a chance.

  “Well, sure. What can I do to help you help the community?” Jeff asked after a moment.

  “Well,” Angela said after a moment’s hesitation, “you think you can help us carry about 200 pounds of food in here?”

  Jeff’s mouth just dropped open in shock.

  “Before anyone else spreads this info or food, maybe we should approach this community dinner thing like our church does. They do a communal meal every day. I don’t know how many people are in the community here, but we probably have enough to get people one or two really good meals,” Amy said, looking up at her sister Amber.

  Amber nodded. “I don’t know how many meals we can actually make out of this, but we felt it was the right thing to do.”

  “Steve, I…” Jeff said, his eyes starting to water. “I don’t know what to say. Of course, I’ll help you unloaded. What about helping those that need the most help first?”

  “We thought about that,” Steve said, “that you’re always going to find some people that are going to hoard food if you just give it out. Maybe some don’t need it so bad. What if the volunteers from the community offered to do like the subdivision cookout, or the one that you guys do every summer. Except for this time, it is for the HOA members instead of a big massive block party where everybody is invited.”

  “That way, only the people that really need the food come get it and the people that don’t need help yet.…”

  “That’s…it’s very charitable of you guys. Your church is ok with you bringing all this food?” Jeff asked.

  “Yes,” Steve said fibbing a bit, because what was in the truck hadn’t technically come from the church, yet. “I talked to the pastor and his wife about it. Our agreement with the church, what we’re doing, is trying to help. Some of the church family and I helped set up the food bank. It wasn’t meant to be for everyone, forever, but so far, it’s a little bit to stave off starvation. Supplies won’t last long, and the food doesn’t get restocked, so supplies are limited.”

  “Almost everyone here is without jobs, money is worthless, really,” Jeff asked, “You brought 200 pounds of food?” he repeated.

  “Yes. Do you want to give us a hand unloading it in here into the community center? We can spread the word and start whenever you want. Since I’m starting to help out with the neighborhood watch, I don’t know how much cooking and volunteering time I’ll be able to do.”

  “Yeah, let’s go get that in here, put it up nice and safe,” Jeff told them as they headed out.

  Word spread throughout the community as Steve started talking to neighbors. Since they had cut out of the meeting early, he was hoping to find some of the volunteers for the neighborhood watch and get that organized. It was with more than a little amusement when he knocked on Doug Morris’s front door, to let him know about the community meal that Jeff was already getting the water going for. After a moment, his wife answered.

  “Mrs. Morris, I’m—”

  “I know who you are Mr. Taylor. Came here to gloat?” she asked, a tired anger emanating from her voice.

  “No ma’am. I’m here to let you know that there’s going to be a community meal at the HOA clubhouse in a few hours, if you and Doug would like to come out.”

  “I would love to,” she said, the anger draining away from her expression.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Steve told her. “Would you mind spreading the word a little bit to the neighbors you know, and ask them to do the same? I’m also looking to set up a meeting with the neighborhood watch volunteers after the meal.”

  “I’ll help spread the word,” she said and shot him a small smile.

  “Thank you,” Steve said, giving her a wave and already starting to back up.

  “You know, I don’t always agree with him with how he’s treated your family.”

  Steve turned back to look at her.

  “For a long time, I didn’t know what it was about, but he really is trying to look out for the community. He has this idea of justice and working in the college has done little to quiet the activist he always wanted to be. I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”

  “I….” Steve’s words trailed off, shocked into silence.

  “No, it’s ok. I am sorry I didn’t sit on him two years ago when he started causing a ruckus,” she told him, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

  “It’s…ok,” Steve told her and gave her a smile back, and half a wave.

  She returned it and shut her door. Feeling conflicted, he started walking. Steve had two more families to let know and hoped that people talking to their neighbors this way would
go viral like the way a post on Facebook used to.

  Steve walked to Dwight’s farm, having a couple days in between seeing him last. He hadn’t relayed the communities question and tonight he was sure he was going to be asked about it. Steve changed his mind about helping cook and feed folks. There was so much animosity and festering dislike, every time he tried to help and be a part of the community it felt good. He felt like they were even starting to accept him. His neighbors, the Wilsons, Doug Morris’s wife, even Jeff Arellano had all changed or softened their stances. Plus, the dinner would be a good chance for him to catch up with everyone that was going to form the neighborhood watch.

  “Hey, Steve,” Dwight said, seeing him walking towards the house.

  “Hey, yourself,” Steve called back, seeing the old farmer walking out of his barn with a grease stained set of coveralls on, unzipped down to his waist in spots, the fabric damp with sweat.

  “What can I do you for?” Dwight asked, grinning and offered a big hand as Steve closed the distance.

  They shook and Steve had to smile. Of everyone in the community, right here, Dwight and Matthew had become fast friends.

  “Got a minute to talk? This might take a few?”

  “Sure,” Dwight said. “Want to head into the house? I got sweet tea.”

  That made Steve’s mouth water, “Yes, sir,” Steve muttered.

  “No ice, but it’s still good. C’mon son,” Dwight told him, turning and starting to walk, his back turned.

  After glasses had been poured and both men were sitting at the table, Steve told him about the home invasions and how he was going to start sort of a neighborhood watch, to at least warn people.

  “You going to get Lucy involved in that?” Dwight asked.

  “Yeah, if she’d like. I just haven’t talked to her and Matt much lately and—”

  “Oh, you don’t wanna be talking to them too much,” Dwight said with a grin.

  “Huh?” Steve asked, sobering immediately. “Why’s that?”

  “Matthew has been coming around here, helping me with little things—”

  “Wait, Junior?” Steve asked, trying to catch up.

  “Yes, Matty Junior has been coming around and helping me with stuff. He volunteered when Matthew and Lucy started living together to give them some privacy, plus the kid was going crazy. I’ve been teaching him how to work on some of the implements and do tune ups on the tractor, little stuff like that.”

  “Is that why you haven’t needed a hand as much lately?” Steve asked.

  “Partially. With my son god knows where… it’s nice having somebody around to teach stuff to. I sort of… I’m sorry I didn’t—”

  “Oh no, I was feeling the guilts too,” Steve said. “I’ve had my head down so much while things are hard.”

  “No blood, no foul,” Dwight said, and they both took a long swig from their tea.

  “So, what else?” Dwight asked after a moment.

  “Some folks in the community were wondering if you’d be willing to sell some stuff. Food: corn, soy, even a butchered pig, or part of it. I guess they’re asking—”

  “Sure, but I don’t want to deal with anybody on the HOA ‘cept you and Matthew,” Dwight said. “The rest of them can kiss my hairy ass.”

  Steve almost burst into a choking laugh, but managed to hold it in, if only just.

  “I don’t mind being the go-between. I figured I’d ask because tonight the HOA is going to have a community dinner. That way we’ll get a feel for how many are—”

  “Where’d the food come from?” Dwight interrupted, his voice soft but serious.

  Steve looked down at his tea and Dwight nodded, understanding.

  “Do they know it was you?” Dwight asked.

  “No. It’s stuff I took out of my backup stores but my church has agreed to help.”

  “You mean all that stuff that you spent weeks buying, moving, and hauling?” Dwight asked.

  Steve nodded, taking a long drink.

  “Well then, if they think it’s the church and not sitting in your garage or something….”

  Steve winced. “Yeah, I thought of that. The thing is, there’s a lot of people who’re going through some really difficult times.”

  “I want to help the community out,” Dwight said, “but I can’t feed everyone. I don’t have enough of the crops ready to harvest, plus now I have to save some for seed and feed for my sows. I could use some help around here though. How about this…I send you to the dinner tonight with a nice fat ham to do with whatever you want. Spread it out tonight, let everyone get some. A gift. All I ask is that in the future, I get a hand around the farm. Kind of the same deal I am already doing with you and the Fitzpatrick boy.”

  “That’s...” Steve said his words trailing off a second, “that’s pretty generous.”

  “Yeah, my son would have my ass if he was here, but he isn’t. I figure I’m the guy who has the tools, equipment, and know how to grow food. It has occurred to me more than once I might need the community to help me keep it from being removed from the area.”

  “You mean, like FEMA coming in and—”

  “Exactly that, or people like the home invaders who kicked in the doorways of those houses….”

  Steve took another long drink and thought about that. He nodded and then finished off his glass of tea and put it down.

  “You want to buy a little goodwill?” he asked the old farmer with a grin.

  “Damn straight,” Dwight replied. “I’ve been running people off the farm off and on for weeks now.”

  “Are they coming through my gate?” Steve asked, a hint of alarm coming into his voice.

  “No, usually over the wall, or walk in from the road. I’ve set up more of those noise makers you showed me how to wire up. One battery and a bunch of horns.”

  “I haven’t heard that many horns lately….” Steve said.

  “Yeah, one night I had two of them go off, one right after another. Almost like I had two guys coming onto the property at once….”

  “Or two groups?” Steve asked, finishing the thought after Dwight’s words trailed off.

  Dwight finished off his tea glass as well, wiped his temple with his wrist, and put the glass down.

  “That my friend, is a scary thought.”

  CHAPTER 23

  The smell of cooking food brought people out of their houses almost as well as the visiting with people up and down the block. Chunks of a salt-cured, smoked ham were added to the water the beans were boiling in along with a large section of the bone. Rice, beans, lentils and the chunks of pork in broth took close to three hours to prepare in several large pots. People started lining up with bowls and their own spoons. For the first time in a while, the Taylors saw smiles.

  It had been Amy’s idea, but Steve had brought down in her little red wagon, four five gallon buckets of water, sanitized, from the hand pump. He had a few party packet sized pouches of Gatorade to mix in to get rid of the chlorine smell, if any was left. At the start of the long line of his community when the food was finally ready, he mixed the mixture and started dispensing it in whatever containers people brought with them. Cups for the most part, but there were more than a few coffee mugs.

  “Thank you,” was given out to the volunteers scooping food from the large pots holding the ad hock mixture by what felt like hundreds or even thousands of people. Steve watched and talked with anyone who would want. Up line, near the beginning of the white folding tables the HOA leadership usually sat behind, but now were being used in a real community outreach… Jeff explained to everyone coming up that Jeff and Steve would be addressing everyone on the front lawn of the community building so please sit down afterward.

  It took them almost an hour to get everyone fed, and Steve didn’t bat an eye when he saw somebody come through the line twice, especially when it was a kid. More than a few people had taste tested in the line waiting to get to their drinks and had commented how good everything was. Finally, the pots we
re emptied and a cold bowl was handed to Steve. He thought about giving the foam bowl and plastic ware to somebody, but as he turned and really looked, he was sort of blown away by the community.

  Everyone was sitting in the grass, and the only place on the front of the property that was open was the cement sidewalk that was probably over one hundred degrees and would be uncomfortable to sit on.

  “Thank you,” a man’s voice shouted from the crowd and everyone began clapping. Steve stood there looking poleaxed and when he turned to look at Jeff, he was clapping too, smiling. After a moment, Amy came running up from the crowd, leaving her mother and sister sitting in the grass about halfway back to his left. She ran up and hugged her dad around the waist tightly.

  “You’re supposed to say something,” she said over the thunderous applause.

  “What are you doing up here, little one?” he said, hugging her back with his free hand.

  “You look like you swallowed a frog,” she told him.

  Steve tried to give his daughter a smile, but of everything that was going on today, this wasn’t what he expected. He wanted to have a chance to get with the volunteers for the watch and then go home. Suddenly he was at center stage, and there would be questions about the food that he didn’t really want to answer, couldn’t answer, and realized the folly of his mistake. It all led to his tongue feeling like it was cemented to the roof of his mouth, but as his gaze ran around the gathering, he saw kids he’d seen a day or two back with dour expressions…and now they were smiling. The neighbors who once shunned him were now giving him smiles and thanks. Steve found Doug Morris in the crowd with his wife, and even there a smile touched the side of his mouth, and he gave Steve a polite nod.

  “Wow, uh thanks,” Steve said and then handed his bowl to Amy, went to the table and got some Gatorade in a plastic cup and turned back to everyone.

  “I uh…a long time ago our church talked about being ready for hard times. We put together our own food bank to help other members in need. I contributed some to the bank and when I told the church about the needs of the community, they shared what they could,” he told them, the words not entirely a lie but not the whole truth. “With what was brought today, we probably have enough left over for what,” he turned to Jeff, “a week’s worth of food?”