The Journal: Cracked Earth (16 page)

* * *

Don stopped over around 4:00 to invite me
over for dinner and his birthday. I had taken the second snow pack
off and was feeling a bit numb. I really wanted to go. I doubted I
could walk that far, so I had to decline. At 5:30 I saw flashlights
bobbing in the dark and the two of them brought the party to me!
Nancy had even thoughtfully brought me a slice of the rib-roast she
had saved for Don’s dinner, knowing that I might not get up to fix
something for myself. She was right. I had contemplated warming up
some soup later, now I didn’t have to. They brought over two beers
for Don, a bottle of white wine for her, and Don opened a bottle of
my favorite red wine from the pantry. I had already lit one of the
brighter lamps to read by, and Don got two more off the shelf and
lit those, setting one on the island and the other on the second
table. The lamps gave a nice glow to the room and chased the
shadows out of the corners.

* * *

JOURNAL ENTRY: December 16

When I woke up this morning, I felt great.
Then I stretched, and the pain in my foot shot up to my knee and
made my eyes water. Tufts jumped off the bed and hid under the
table in the kitchen when he heard me cry out. I lay still for a
few moments, remembered what had happened.

The other two times I had injured this ankle,
I don’t remember it hurting this bad, and I am wondering if maybe
it is broken.

* * *

My foot really, really hurts. I used the wall
to support myself until I got to the kitchen where I could lean on
the counters. This was so
not
good. I paused at the gas
stove and saw that I had set a kettle of water out last night. The
stove burners will light with a match so I pulled the grill lighter
out of the drawer and lit the burner to heat the water for my tea.
I really needed that tea, it was cold in here! Leaning against
anything in my way, I hobbled toward the woodstove, when I noticed
Mom’s walking staff leaning in the corner. It sure helped to take
the pressure off my foot. I opened the ash door and the grate, the
first steps to starting a new fire. Then I noticed Jacob’s favorite
chair.

One of my clients at the resort had given me
a “bungee” office chair which was super comfortable to sit in, and
had the awesome high-tech rolling casters. Jacob loves “getting a
ride” on the chair, where I would spin him around and around. My
heart clenched and I wondered how they were doing. I pulled that
chair up the single step from the computer room and sat down.
Relief! I scooted myself over to check the water for tea, and
pushed off for a glide across the room to reset the stove fire. If
my foot didn’t hurt so much, I might have fun with this. It
certainly will make it easier for me to stay off my feet.

After starting the stove, which is hard to do
from a sitting position, I hobbled over to the computer room. Two
things were on my agenda, retrieving a cane and my computer chair.
Mom’s walking staff feels awkward and I want to try using one of
her canes instead. There were two in the crock stand next to the
TV; a thin one with a standard curved handle; and a ball headed one
that was sturdy. After testing them out, I settled on the ball
headed one because it’s shorter and was a better height for me,
despite it being harder on my wrist. Hopefully I won’t have to use
it for long.

My computer chair is on casters like the
bungee chair which I can use to move around in that room, and then
move to the other chair for the rest of the house. I’ll have to
move the rug-runners out of the hall and out of the bathroom. The
dining room and kitchen are both tile and unobstructed.

I took a couple of Ibuprofen and washed them
down with my tea. I moved the pot over to the stove to stay warm,
and quietly sipped while I went over in my head what I needed to do
today. First was to get dressed, then pull something out of the
cooler for dinner tonight and tomorrow, maybe the next day, too.
Next was to start up the generator so I could take a shower, draw
off some water for the next few days and wash dishes—the usual
things that don’t wait just because I was clumsy. There was no
guarantee that I wouldn’t feel worse tomorrow.

Monday is my usual day for going to town, to check
on things in the office, see what’s happening with the town folk.
Not today. My ankle is still swollen and it hurts. I think it would
best to stay off my feet and keep that foot packed in snow. Twenty
minutes on, twenty minutes off. During the twenty minutes off, I
try to get something done like fill the woodstove to stay warm.
Wood supply is good for another day or two, before I need to do
something about it. My biggest problem at this point is clearing
the driveway to get out. A foot of snow is a bit much to drive
through. If I rest and ice today, maybe I’ll be able to run the
snow-blower tomorrow. I have to get the car out since five miles is
a bit much to walk into town, and impossible with an injured foot.
So far the plow trucks haven’t been by to clear the road though, so
it might be a moot point. I might be stuck here.

I noticed a few days ago that the smoke
diverter on my stove was hard to move and then it wouldn’t move at
all. There are two ways the smoke goes up the chimney. The first is
directly out and the second forces the smoke around the oven box
before going out the chimney. Since it was stuck in the “out the
chimney” position, I wasn’t too concerned, but in the “around the
oven box” position, it was easier to maintain the temperature for
baking. You can’t set the oven for 350 degrees and walk away with a
wood fired stove. Before I built the morning fire I pulled the
wheeled-table closer to the stove and spread it with newspapers.
The stove had cooled off enough during the night so I could handle
the top plates to get at the diverter in the back section near the
chimney. It was really chilly in here so I wanted to assess what
needed to be done quickly. Fortunately it’s a simple mechanism, and
the grooves it slides in had built up soot, ash and general debris.
After eighteen years I suppose that’s to be expected. I wire
brushed and swept, wire brushed and swept again, manually moving
the diverter plate back and forth to loosen up even more. Finally
it moved smoothly, and I put the stove back together. I used the
papers to start up a fire. It took less than fifteen minutes to fix
it. There is really not much that can go wrong that a good cleaning
won’t fix. Had this situation been different, I would have called
Jason over to check it out, but in many ways I’m on my own, just
like the town is. Maybe I should insist he and Jacob move in. On
the other hand, I
did
fix it myself.

* * *

JOURNAL ENTRY: December 18

The wind died down to a light breeze today so
I decided to chance clearing the driveway. There are a lot of
advantages to living alone but being injured isn’t one of them.
Sure, I’d rather sit in the house next to the stove with my foot
up, book in hand, sipping on tea, yet there aren’t any cobbler’s
elves in Moose Creek to shovel my driveway. I re-wrapped the
elastic bandage around my foot a bit tighter than I was doing
before, put on thick socks and my high-top insulated boots. I
decided against my coveralls since it was a real chore getting into
them. Then again I’ve lost weight so it might be easier now. With
my jacket, knit hat and heavy mittens on I was ready to tackle the
driveway. I’m glad I waited… the plow trucks came by earlier and
left extra in my drive entrance.

* * *

Snow blowing is slow work, and easier than
shoveling. I limped slowly behind the machine, redirecting the
chute when needed. When I got to the spot where Bill had fallen, I
seemed to freeze up. All the memories of shooting him came flooding
back, and so did the memories of him trying to force his way into
my house. I feel worse than bad that the situation ended like it
did, yet I can’t let it run my life. I pushed the thoughts
away.

When I turned back to finish the back portion
and start on the leg that goes to the street, there was Don, with
his monster of a machine, clearing the rest in half the time. When
he was done, I thanked him. He mumbled something about being clumsy
and I dutifully ignored him. I love my brother. I parked my machine
back in its spot in the barn, feeling confident I could get out now
if I had to. Right now, there was a cup of tea and a chair calling
to me.

I’m really glad I took extra food out of the
cooler two days ago. I was exhausted from all the work. I put the
turkey leg in a roasting pan, sprinkled it with some seasonings and
tucked it in the oven.

* * *

I finally had a chance to ask Anna what was
going to be done about trash now that the dump compactors didn’t
work.

“Pete came up with a really good idea,” she
said. “He set up bins inside the school for separating the
recyclables. With everyone burning anything paper or cardboard,
that’s not something that we have to worry about. People are
feeding their pets what little table scraps there are, and he
thinks that will leave very little actual garbage. He will take the
remaining trash out to the old dump once a week.”

“Excellent! What about those bins filled with
glass, metal and plastic?” I asked.

“Well, there’s an idea that came from the
Lady’s Knitting group. They are going to recycle what they can into
useable crafts by making pin-cushions from tuna cans and such. Pete
has already circled the word that anything put into the bins must
be fully washed first. I’m really proud of all of them,” Anna
said.

“You should be, Anna. This is great, really
great. Maybe I should put a bid in for some of the plastic bottles
for next year’s garden.”

“What will you do with those?” she asked,
obviously unfamiliar with drought gardening.

“When I lived in the deep woods, the only
water that I had for the garden, other than rain, was from a
cistern. All I had was three hundred gallons for a 100’ x 150’
garden. I couldn’t afford to waste a single drop of water.” I had
her attention. “I took the caps off and cut the bottoms off of
plastic bottles and then buried them, neck down, one-third of the
way deep next to a plant. Then I’d fill the bottle, which took the
water right to the roots where it was needed and did the most good.
None of it was wasted on surface evaporation.”

“That’s amazing!” she exclaimed.

“It worked very well,” I said. “I still use
that method, but considering that next year I think it wise to
expand my garden, I’ll need more bottles. I need to talk to Pete
about that. He should save all of the bottles. Others might want to
do the same.”

* * *

JOURNAL ENTRY: December 19

In the past, the school Christmas pageant
always started at 7:00 P.M.. Now, without lights, that’s no longer
an option. At 3:00 P.M., when school let out, the children stayed
to give their performance before heading home for the Christmas
break. Many in the audience brought flashlights or lanterns to
light up the dim gymnasium, and several were placed on the stage
for the children. Carolyn took her place at the aging piano, and
began by playing Christmas tunes. The children came out in groups
by grades and sang songs. It was charming, and I even teared up a
little.

At first I didn’t see Jason, then when I saw
Jacob on stage with his fourth grade class, I knew his daddy was
close by. I scanned the front rows, knowing that Jason always sat
where Jacob could see him. He was there – with Amanda!

* * *

I am so relieved that Amanda is back. I’m
also very angry with her for putting her family through such
torment. I know that I can’t say anything to her, at least not
until I find out the details when they come over for Christmas. Not
saying anything is an additional source of torment for
me
.

It’s only been six weeks since the event, and
during that time I’ve seen my community suffer and there’s nothing
that I can do. I’ve watched my son suffer and I can’t help him.
I’ve seen friends die and cannot grieve for them. I’ve shot and
killed
a man, and I cannot grieve for
myself
. I’m
suppressing everything that I feel so I can function at my best,
and keep the promise that I made when I was sworn in. It’s tearing
me apart. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. I don’t
know what to do anymore. I don’t know
how
to help all those
desperate people. I want to stop clearing the driveway, no more
shoveling and no more going to the office. No more! No more
anything except taking care of myself instead of everyone else.
However, I did take that oath, and I did make that promise, so I
went to the office even though I feel so helpless.

* * *

The sky was exceptionally dark this morning,
even at 9:00 A.M. There was an ominous gloom hanging over the
office as I settled into my seat. I laid the cane across the
counter next to me since it was constantly falling over if I stood
it upright. My “office” is only a corner of Anna’s bigger office,
and my desk actually looks out the only window at a perfect angle
to watch Fram’s store, which is why I was one of the first to see
the gas tanker pull into his lot. Liz came through for us. This
would go a long way to alleviate the tensions of the town folk
wanting gas for their cars and their generators.

“Anna! We are getting an early Christmas
present. Come look,” I called to her over my shoulder.

“Gas? How did that happen?” she asked.

I told her of my conversation with Liz, well
most of the conversation. I haven’t told anyone about Amanda and
now that she’s back, I won’t have to. Gray, our head EMS, walked
into the office and saw my foot up on the wastebasket.