Chapter 13 #2
“Ten-years, give or take,” I finally replied.
She tipped a book from the shelf—a well-worn volume about levers, pulleys, and construction methods.
It held a series of Egyptian-era designs meant to assist a single person in lifting heavy things.
After reading it, the pyramids’ construction was no longer a wonder to me.
The book simplified moving massive objects, such as the iron stove.
I wouldn’t have gotten this far without it.
Betty opened the book and took in a few of the pages and drawings.
I stood and moved toward the kitchen, where I began fumbling with the string-lights, wondering if there was a better, cleaner way to hang them.
Under the counter, there were a few candles, and I lit them.
They had a pine scent that I’d extracted from a few fallen branches of Balsam Fir, and it slowly filled the cabin with a soft, natural smell of the woods.
She eyed me when I began pulling down a few pots from the chain above the stove and set them on the hot surface. I moved to the fridge, found some elk tallow and began planning a meal for dinner. “Are you hungry?”
She gave me an exuberant nod, shutting the book in her hands. “Yes, starving. The granola bars you gave me earlier have worn off,” she joked, tucking the book back onto the shelf.
“Do you like potatoes?” I asked.
“Who doesn’t?” she scoffed.
True. I retrieved a bag of nuts and dried fruit out of the pantry, pouring her a small bowl to help tide her over while I cooked us a full dinner. I slid the bowl across the counter, gesturing for her to help herself.
“Do you want to see the greenhouse?” I offered, thinking it a good idea to give her a run of the place while I was at it.
She nodded. “Sure.”
Before heading that way, I juggled a handful of eggs from the crate and put them beside the tallow. She tossed a few handfuls of nuts and berries into her mouth. I gestured her toward the back door.
Betty moved where I instructed, approaching a basket near the door filled with sheepskin slip-on shoes.
“Grab a pair,” I said.
I had several, always buying a new pair when I went to town but never getting rid of any old ones unless they were falling apart.
She chose a newer pair from the basket before I picked out a pair for myself and put them on.
When I glanced down at her feet, the slippers were huge on her, but adorable.
I led her out and around the porch, past the compost bin, and toward the back of the cabin. We turned left, and the porch became a walkway that ended at another door. This one led to a massive greenhouse, almost as big as the cabin itself.
The greenhouse had its own solar panels, separate from the cabin.
This dedicated grid provided extra light for the plants during the short winter days and powered the heaters that kept things warm when the temperature dropped below a certain point.
They also powered all the aquaponic pumps.
Everything cycled beautifully in the little world I’d built. It was my proudest achievement.
She paused at the door to wait for me, hugging her arms around herself to stave off the chill in the air.
Undoing the latch, the door swung into the space, and I located the light switches and turned them on. The UV bulbs flickered to life, and a gasp came from behind me as the room became fully lit. I looked back, not wanting to miss her expression.
“Oh my God, Gray!” Betty’s hand went to her mouth in disbelief. “It’s a jungle in here!”
Oval galvanized tubs of water lined the walls all around, spaced two feet apart. From the center of each, white pipes climbed to the ceiling, draped with edible plants. The gentle sound of water cascading through the towers and back into the tanks was soothing and gentle, like a rainforest.
I was glad to see that everything was running without incident. There was always a fear that something would go offline when I was gone. Though entirely powered by solar, there had been a couple of instances where the pumps had failed, resulting in dead fish and aquaponic system failure.
“Are those… fish?” She walked up to one of the stock tanks, looking inside. Little fish gathered to greet her, mouths gaping at the surface of the water. The fish were greedy, thinking they were about to get extra snacks, which I often supplied.
The tanks were stocked with fish from the river, mostly trout, along with whatever other species were in the front pool.
They occasionally bred in the tanks, but it was easy to get more when needed.
The fish served two purposes: fertilizing the plants and becoming delicious smoked trout filets once they were at the end of their life cycle.
Each of the stock tanks housed about 300 gallons and at least ten fish.
I had a total of ten tanks. Pipes directed the water upward to the ceiling, before gently trickling back down over the roots of different vegetables poking out of holes in the vertical piping.
There was always an abundance of fresh greens, which hadn’t been the case in the early days.
“How can you eat all this?” Betty asked, her eyes landing on me.
Her pupils blew wide with wonder and excitement. I loved it.
“It gets eaten, one way or another.” I said. “There are usually leftovers, but I’d rather have too much than not enough. Anything I can’t eat goes back into the soil as compost, or I give it to the deer and wildlife.”
The room was warm and humid, an ideal environment for the spring plants to thrive.
The spinach was beyond ready to be cut back, and the green beans were cascading dramatically down their supports along the ceiling, creating a cool-looking canopy of green overhead.
Along the back wall sat my potato bins, which I watered by hand with a hose from the tanks.
They didn’t require constant water, or the potatoes would rot.
Plus, this way they’d keep underground like that all winter.
I let Betty continue around the room while I dug up a few sizable russet potatoes from the bin. I scrubbed their skins off in the tanks before watering the asparagus that was sprouting around the potato plants.
“How do the tanks stay so clean?” she asked.
“It’s a perfect cycle,” I said. “The plants eat the ammonia and nitrates from the fish and clean the water, while the fish and snails provide an endless source of fertilizer for the plants and eat up any extra algae. Plus, I eat the fish when they reach the end of their lifecycle.”
She scoffed. “Eat the fish? No, I could never.” She pouted, dipping her fingertip into the tank and watching the trout gather and kiss her skin.
I chuckled. “You won’t want to at first, but once you see how fast they grow, it’s better eating them than letting them just die for no reason or purpose.”
She tilted her head from side to side. “True… and I do like fish. It’d be hypocritical of me to pretend they didn’t once live and breathe like these do. What do the fish eat?”
I pointed to the contraptions that were hooked onto each tank. “Automatic feeders. I get fish food for them, and sometimes bring them dead bugs. In the summer they’ll eat any mosquitoes that spawn in here, too. Or frogs. I had a frog problem one year that quickly resolved.”
Betty wrinkled her nose. “Frogs freak me out. And they’re so loud!”
I nodded in agreement.
“Please tell me you don’t eat frogs,” she teased.
I chuckled, pretending to gag, even though I knew what frog tasted like.
They weren’t that bad. Long ago, before all this was built, I’d eat anything to survive.
It may seem easy now, but when I was first out here, things were well and truly over my head.
I’d been a pampered, weak city nerd from a wealthy family back then.
I hadn’t a clue what I was doing. Determination and grit won out.
She grinned, her stunning, authentic smile throwing me off kilter. It hypnotized me.
Ease seemed to wash over her for the first time since she’d woken. The New York Betty was gone for a moment, letting someone I barely knew, but wanted to know, shine through. She felt comfortable in the greenhouse. Maybe this whole thing could actually work.
Her fingers cut endless figure eights through the tank water, amused by the fish as they playfully swam around and followed.
Most women wouldn’t willingly stick their hand into a tank full of fish, let alone allow them to kiss her.
Although this world out here was unfamiliar to her, she didn’t seem intimidated by the fresh experience, or at least not for very long.
While I juggled the potatoes in one hand and balanced a mound of green beans in the other, Betty looked up and took notice. She wiped her wet hand on her pants, standing to relieve me of the potatoes, allowing me to gather more green beans.
I plucked the last few. “Okay, I think we’re set for dinner,” I concluded.
Betty nodded, turning the potatoes over in her hands and inspecting them as she made her way to the door. Before we left, she sang a cheerful “Bye, fish!”
I let her exit before me, observing her cheerful gait the entire walk back to the cabin.
Yeah, this was exactly where she was supposed to be right now, and how I had always pictured it unfolding. Despite the rocky start, things were tipping in my favor. It wouldn’t be long until I had her in my arms again.