Chapter Seven
The new day dawned as hot as the one before. The valley inhabitants began gathering early in the open field beside the bank.
The big smokers and grills were operating, watched over by the tired men who had been cooking all night and refused to let
others take over because they suffered from the stereotypical male fixation with grills and the belief that no one else could
operate one as well as they could. The delicious smell of grilled and smoked meat permeated the air, making Sela’s mouth water
even though she’d had breakfast, such as it was: a bowl of dry cereal, some nuts, and water. She hadn’t felt like bothering
with making either coffee or tea because that would mean boiling water, and now she was feeling the lack, but that would soon
be remedied.
Long tables were set up and covered with plastic picnic cloths. Some of the more enterprising women had big jugs of sweetened
water and tea bags basking in the sunlight to make sun tea. Of course almost no one had shown up with nothing other than meat
to cook; Sela didn’t know how the dishes had been prepared, but there were pots of beans, big platters of salad, mashed potatoes,
and anything else the women could think of that needed to be cooked and eaten before it ruined. Sela had made a big salad,
using all of her romaine lettuce before it went bad; better eaten than wasted.
There were some vehicles, pickup trucks that brought the heavy items, but for the most part people had walked to conserve
their precious gasoline. Some kids had ridden their bicycles, and a few people had saddled up and ridden their horses. There
were a lot of horses around, some used in tourist trail rides, some privately owned. She figured they’d see a lot of horse
and bicycle traffic in the months to come.
Patio umbrellas and pavilion tents were set up for shade, folding chairs were placed around the tables, kids were running
around shrieking and playing, and despite the seriousness of their circumstances the atmosphere was more like a giant picnic
than a survival effort.
She and Carol and Olivia had loaded most of their stuff in Josh’s old Radio Flyer wagon and pulled it to the field, where
Carol commandeered the space under a pavilion tent. At Sela’s suggestion, they had brought a small portable grill, charcoal,
a blue enamel camp kettle, and a few bags of coffee. She and Carol swiftly got the charcoal going and the coffee brewing.
Soon the smell of coffee was luring a constant stream of people to the pavilion, where they found themselves cornered into
either offering ideas or volunteering to help—Sela hoped they were doing both, but one thing for sure, if they got a cup of
coffee then their names were going on Carol’s list.
After helping herself to a single cup of much-welcomed coffee, she murmured to Carol, “I’m going to walk around, see who all
is here and what they’ve done.”
“Take a pen and notebook, and jot down their names,” Carol replied, handing both items to her.
Good idea. She roamed the big field, not only noting exactly what different people had to share but also seeing who was the
most organized and prepared, because they were the people Carol would want to talk to. She kept an eye on Olivia, who had
connected with some of her school friends; there was a lot of laughing and dramatic gesturing going on. And she couldn’t help
checking the perimeter to see if Ben would appear at a distance, watching but not joining.
He didn’t, of course; he was likely grabbing some sleep, which she wished she could do. After he’d left she had gone to bed
and managed a few hours’ sleep, but already she could feel the lack of rest. When the cookout was over and some organization
was in place, maybe she could catch a nap.
Not surprisingly, most of the talk she overheard was excited discussion of the red aurora.
“Did you see that sky last night?”
“I thought it was the end—”
“Damn it, I was so tired I went right to sleep and missed it—”
She thought the red aurora would be showing up for a while, with all the atmospheric turmoil, but didn’t stop to join in the
various conversations because she had nothing to share. Sitting on the steps with Ben and watching the sky was an experience
she hugged to herself; she hadn’t even told Carol about the awkward but strangely alluring interlude they’d shared—if sitting
beside each other could be called an interlude—because it was both too intimate and too casual. Carol would make a big deal
out of it, joking that Mr. Hot Body had a thing for Sela, and Sela discovered that she couldn’t regard anything about Ben
as a joke.
It wasn’t that they’d had any deep conversation; in fact, she’d be surprised if he’d said a grand total of thirty words to
her. But still—they’d communicated. They had shared a piece of magic that they’d never forget. Their bare arms had brushed.
If there was any other person in the valley with whom Ben Jernigan had willingly spent that length of time, and actually touched,
she didn’t know who it would be. Of course, for all she knew he regularly had booty calls with any number of women, but he
seemed far too solitary for that.
Abruptly she realized that she had stopped walking and was simply standing motionless in the middle of the big field, while
eddies of people swirled around her. Her face heated, even though no one walking by knew she’d gotten lost simply thinking
about Ben, the mystery and appeal of him. She knew, and she was both appalled at herself and unreasonably excited. This was
how her adolescent crushes had felt, and she had thought she’d grown beyond that. Evidently she was wrong.
Someone behind her gripped her arm, and she turned to find Ted Parsons standing there. If that wasn’t immediate punishment
for letting herself get distracted, she didn’t know what was. He released her and caught another woman’s hand, tugging her
to him. “Meredith, this is—sorry, I didn’t catch your name last night.”
“Sela Gordon,” she supplied, and held out her hand to Meredith. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Right. This is my wife, Meredith.”
She’d already figured that out. Meredith Parsons appeared to be the exact opposite of her abrasive husband. She had a kind,
gentle face, and her smile was genuine. She shook Sela’s hand, then looked around the busy field. “Isn’t this something? So
many people, all helping each other and sharing.”
“It’s important to cook the perishable things and not let them go to waste—” Sela began.
Ted interrupted with, “Her mother was chosen as valley leader.” He was still visibly disgruntled that not only had he not
been chosen, but a female senior citizen had been.
“My aunt,” Sela corrected. “On my father’s side.”
The curl of Ted’s lip said he didn’t care on which side of Sela’s family Carol came in. “Where is she? I’ve come up with some
ideas about what we should be doing.”
“I’m sure you have,” she murmured, and turned to point across the field. “She’s set up in that pavilion tent with the red
stripes. And she has coffee brewing, if you’d like a cup. All ideas are welcome.”
“Ted’s really good at getting things done,” Meredith said, looking up at him with a smile, one that he returned with such
obvious affection that Sela blinked in surprise. When he looked at his wife, his expression changed completely. It was a reminder
that even jerks could have a few good qualities, something she should remember. Seeing him with his wife made her feel less
hostile to him, and that was a good thing considering how they would all have to work together in the coming months.
The morning wore on. She was approached by a couple who had to be in their seventies but were lean and spry, and offered their
knowledge of herbs in the event of sickness. A group of women in a quilting club offered to make quilts for those who didn’t
have enough bedcovers for the coming winter. A few men offered to hunt for those who couldn’t. Sela wrote down names and addresses,
with notes about capabilities and offers. A system needed to be created to connect those in need with the people offering
services, and also a means of payment by barter, though what the people in need could offer in return would be way more complicated
to set up. She was mulling that over when someone over by Carol’s tent rang a cowbell, calling them all to congregate.
The sun was really beating down now, so the pastor who gave the blessing was smart enough to keep it brief before Carol invited
everyone to start eating. Sela had made her way to Carol’s side, and winked at her aunt. “Good strategy, feeding everyone
before you start roping them into work.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday,” Carol replied, smirking. She paused. “Or in this century, come to that. And speaking of that, have
you seen Olivia, who was born in this century?”
“She’s fine. She’s hanging with her friends.” Sela looked around and caught sight of one of Olivia’s friends, a girl who was
easily spotted because of her bright red hair. A quick survey of the group let her locate Olivia. “There she is.” There weren’t
any boys in the knot of teenagers, at least not right now.
Carol nodded, then gestured to Sela’s notebook. “Did you get any good stuff?”
“I did. How about Ted Parsons? Were any of his ideas something we could use?” She actually hoped they were, because that would
soothe his ego and make him less problematic to deal with . . . she hoped. Not that he was a big problem, but he was certainly
going to be an irritant.
Carol rocked her hand. “Maybe, maybe not. I wrote them down. You never can tell how things will work out.”
Sela filled plates for Carol and herself, got glasses of tea, then they sat with their heads together under the tent and tried
to brainstorm with the information they had gathered that morning. Carol did have some volunteers, a few of whom she deemed
worthless. Zoe Dietrich couldn’t be trusted to check on the elderly because she would likely steal their medications. Patty
Stone had good intentions, but she was one of those people who never followed through. And so on, and so on.