52. Ava
FIFTY-TWO
AVA
I stand next to the fireplace, stomach full of cornbread and chili as I stare at photos of Beth and Mason on the wall. I don’t know what I expected Mason to look like. Perhaps a younger version of Mitch? He was tall and broad-shouldered—rugged in an understated, stoic way that is consistent with the Bennett men—with the same twinkle in his eyes that I see in Knox sometimes too. A kindness that even his sharp features can’t distract me from, with a smile that could light up a room. Somewhere in a fleeting thought, I can hear the timbre of Mason’s laugh, and imagine it resounding through the house.
Grinning, I admire the rest of the photos cast in the glow of the setting sun. Beth and Shadow sitting on a tractor together. Mason fishing at a creek with a little Knox and a young man I assume is Kellen. He’s tall and leaner than Knox. His hair is much darker, almost black, and his features more angular. I see bits of Mitch in him, but there’s a familiar gleam in Kellen’s eyes—or perhaps it’s the shape of them—that is all Knox. Their mother, I realize. I can barely remember her, but there are splashes of memories that surface. Me on the monkey bars in the schoolyard and her calling her students to form a line. The dresses she always wore and the way her hair escaped her ponytail.
“That was the last time my brother and I came here,” Knox says wistfully, and I stir from my thoughts.
“What was he like?” I ask without thinking. I know it’s hard for Knox to speak of his brother, but in my sporadic memories, I never see Kellen.
“Serious,” he says easily. “A man of few words most of the time. Until he wasn’t.” Knox snorts and shakes his head. “He internalized a lot of things. I think that’s why he left—he’d finally had enough.” Knox studies the other pictures on the wall, sighing despite the lifting corner of his mouth. They are good memories, I realize, and I smile too.
“Kellen’s twelve years older, so we weren’t close growing up, but I always looked up to him. He stood up to our dad when I would cower. He was his own man—never wanted to run the ranch or muck cow shit for the rest of his life. He had a path much different from mine.” Knox shrugs. “Kellen was out of college by the time I got to high school, so I never really knew him outside of the house. When I realized what being gay meant and why my dad was so angry, I was more surprised than anything. Kellen never wanted to be like my dad, and sometimes I think my dad only resented Kellen for being gay because it made him that much more different. One step further away from the future my dad saw for the ranch. For his sons. Mitch Bennett liked to control things, and the irony of it is, he never could. Not a single thing.” Knox runs his hand up the back of his head. “I guess that’s why I was mad at Kellen, too. I had an older brother, and it felt like he was never there. He was always running in the other direction.”
“I can’t imagine what it would have been like for him,” I muse.
Knox adjusts the skewed frame. “Me neither,” he whispers. The lights flicker, and while it’s only a matter of time before we lose power, with the windstorms Beth has been telling us about, that seems like the least of our worries. “Our sunshine doesn’t come without a cost,” she’d said, because while the near constant wind keeps the ash clouds away, the weather here is anything but stable.
Knox nods to the mantel clock. “It’s time.”
“I’m clean!” Harper chirps as she runs down the stairs. Her hair is wet, and she has on fresh pajamas. Dread and hope burn a hole in my chest.
Beth comes down just behind her, an apologetic smile on her face. “We’re just sneaking down to make some popcorn,” she explains, knowing the heaviness of the transmission we’re about to make.
“Why do we have to make popcorn?” Harper asks, leading the way to the kitchen.
“Because it won’t pop itself.”
“It actually pops?”
“Yes, and it’s fascinating to watch. We grew the kernels ourselves.”
As Beth does her best to keep Harper busy in the galley kitchen, Knox and I settle on the couch for our first attempted radio call with Facility 38. “It’s right before their nightly communication with NWA,” Georgie, a retired Navy vet and Beth’s neighbor had explained. “My contact in Wichita says Guymon should be there.”
Knox ensures the transceiver is on and tunes the console to 162.500, the National Weather Service broadcast frequency. Then he meets my gaze. The fact of the matter is, even if Knox is on board with Harper staying, and Beth loves the laughter of a child in her home, there is no telling what, exactly, Facility 38 is going to say or request we do when we check in with them. We’re talking about a living, breathing child, after all, and there’s more than ourselves to consider.
This, I think, is what Knox was really worried about. I see the same look in his eyes that was there yesterday when we had this discussion. Apprehension as he considers the possible aftermath. Fear of how sticky the situation is about to get and the difficult decisions we might have to make. And the dread, of course, considering the look on Harper’s face if we have to tell her we’re taking her back.
I lace my fingers with his free hand, squeezing in reassurance, and Knox clears his throat as he presses the mic. “This is N0KAN calling Facility 38. Is anyone on the air? Over.”
Radio silence.
Knox tries again. “This is N0KAN calling Facility 38. Is anyone there? Over.”
“N0KAN, this is N5STORM.” My heart races at the sound of a familiar voice. “We copy you loud and clear. What’s the situation? Over.”
“N5STORM, good to hear from you. We made it to Ransom,” Knox says. “Over.”
There’s radio silence again, and then, “Copy that, N0KAN. It’s good to hear your voice.” Kevin sounds relieved. “What’s the situation there? Over.”
“N5STORM, Ness County has clear skies but has been hit by massive tornadoes. The locals say it’s been chaos in surrounding cities now that food is scarce, with widespread crop damage and disruption of supply chain deliveries. They expect power outages will be next, but most of the citizens remain hunkered down for now. Over.”
“Copy that, N0KAN. Please be advised, whatever happens, Tennessee is open. Over.”
“Affirmative, N5STORM. And...there’s more.” Knox looks at me and braces himself. “We had a stowaway,” he says. “Over.”
“Copy that, N0KAN.” Kevin’s reply is almost immediate. “I heard there was a missing child. Over.”
That Kevin seems to have so little to say about it is surprising but gives me hope.
“N5STORM,” Knox hedges, “we have no plans of returning to Guymon. Over.”
Knox holds my gaze. We blink at each other and my heart pounds with each drawn out moment.
“Roger that, N0KAN. I’ll relay the information to the team. Over.”
Knox frowns. “N5STORM, is there someone we need to speak to about our situation? Over.”
Once again, Kevin’s response is immediate. “N0KAN, the first caravan left this morning for Tennessee. By the time you get here, there may be no one to bring her back to. Over.”
“Are they saying Jenny already left?” I ask Knox. I don’t know if I should be livid that she cared so little about Harper or relieved.
He shifts a perturbed gaze back to the transceiver. “Roger that, N5STORM. Over.” Knox shakes his head, glancing at me as he opens his mouth to say something when the radio clicks.
“Hey, Knox?”
His attention snaps to the radio “Tony?” Knox stares at the transceiver in his hand like he’s holding his breath.
“You got room for two more?”
A grin engulfs Knox’s face. “We could use another good worker,” he says, and the smile in his voice is contagious. “We’ll keep an eye out for you. Over.”
“Roger that, N0KAN,” Kevin says this time. “Stay safe out there. Over.”
“You do the same, N5STORM.” And just like that, all of our fears and apprehension were for nothing. Jenny is gone. The only government we have left is too busy trying to save the world to worry about a little girl who ran away. And now Harper stays with us. Indefinitely. And Tony and his mother are coming this way.
“It couldn’t have been that easy,” I murmur. There’s a moment of hesitation when I’m not sure what else to say or how to feel. This is big. I don’t think I knew just how big until now.
For a minute, my entire world stills. The noise and overwhelm and constant tension I’ve felt each moment since I ran home to Mavey after that first big earthquake at Scott’s is vacuumed away, a quiet clarity forming in its place. This is bigger than Harper. It’s scarier and far too unknown.
Whatever the future is, it’s with Knox, with these people here at a farm I didn’t know existed two weeks ago. With Beth, who I met only hours ago, and Harper—a child to care for. A child we have to care for, to worry about and raise, and we don’t even know how long we’ll have power. It’s the most insane reality and should be utterly terrifying. But it’s not...not for me.
Knox huffs an incredulous laugh and rubs his head. “You know this is crazy, right?”
I nod, searching his expression for a sliver of truth; a sign or indication that it’s too much for him. That he can’t do this, that Knox is not all in, because no one should have to make decisions like this and take on so much in a matter of days. I would totally understand, even if it would break my heart too.
“Yes,” I whisper, my voice hoarse. “It’s crazy—unbelievable if I think too much about it.” I stare down at my hands, at my fingers that tremble a little with emotions too big to shove away. “And scary,” I admit.
Knox laces his fingers with mine. “But you’re good with this?” he asks, and his eyes shift over my face like he’s assessing every nuance of indecision.
“I am,” I say easily, realizing how true it is. I feel purpose and direction for the first time in my entire life. “You?”
Knox’s brow furrows ever so slightly. “I think,” he starts, staring down at our joined hands, “it’s a good thing we’re used to crazy.” When he meets my gaze, there’s a smile in his eyes I don’t expect. “It wouldn’t be a normal day without another life-altering decision to make.”
A slightly deranged laugh bubbles out of me and I feel lighter. “True.”
Knox stares at me, and the humor in his eyes softens. “I’m glad I get to make them with you.”
A lump thickens in my throat. “Yeah?” It’s barely a breath.
He dips his chin. “I need all the toxic positivity I can get.”
With a smile, I lean in and kiss him. And as the playfulness thickens to something more potent and reassuring, the lump in my throat and the tremble in my hands dissipates.
The floor creaks and Knox and I glance over his shoulder. Harper peeks around the doorjamb in the kitchen, her gaze shifting between where she picks at the wood and us. Whether she understood what we were talking about or not, Harper knew we had to reach out to Guymon, and her dread is palpable.
Beth walks up behind her, resting her hands on Harper’s shoulders. I hadn’t noticed the scent of popcorn filling the house or both dogs sitting patiently by the dining room table, butts wagging and hoping for a treat from the kitchen.
“Well, kid,” Knox says, and both of us stand up. He sounds cool and collected, but I’m holding my breath, even if I’m not sure why. “It looks like you’re stuck with us,” he drawls.
Beth sighs with relief, but Harper seems reluctant. “For how long?”
“Forever,” he explains. “And ever. You’re our family now. Which means,” he adds more sternly, “there’s no more running away. No more?—”
Tears burst from Harper’s eyes, and she covers her face with her hands.
“Oh, sweetie.” Beth squeezes Harper’s shoulders, and I hurry over, my heart so full it hurts to breathe.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, pulling Harper into me. “You have all of us now. We aren’t going anywhere.”
She nods, sobbing into my shoulder, and I meet Knox’s watery gaze. I can’t help my own bleary vision, imagining how different this all could have ended. How this little girl could be lost out in the world and never have found us.
“I swear,” Knox croaks, and he runs his hand over his face. “You’re all going to be the death of me.” He wipes the tears from under his eyes, and I smile, holding Harper tighter. All things considered, that’s not a bad way to go.