Chapter 15

Neither one ofus has much time to recover and return to our normal composure because we have to leave for dinner at his parents' farm about thirty minutes later.

I gather the extra bread I baked, and Jimmy hauls the cooler full of fish we caught that morning. We start off on the walk without speaking, and the bleak silence continues without reprieve.

We've reached the road with the farms and houses when the sound of an engine startles us. We hear it so seldom anymore that it takes a minute for the mechanical hum in the distance to even process in my mind.

I realize what it is at the same time as Jimmy. He puts a hand on my back to push me onto the grass on the side of the road, and I go willingly, my heart racing in fear.

No one has vehicles around here except the gangs. And even they only have a few.

This one isn't a motorcycle. It's an old pickup truck with a large livestock trailer rattling behind it. Both Jimmy and I have our guns out as it closes in on us. It pulls to a stop when it reaches us.

A man leans out of the open passenger window. He's big and black and mostly bald and grinning. "Jimmy, isn't it?" he asks, his eyes moving from Jimmy to me. His hands are empty and stretched out of the window in a gesture of peace.

Jimmy straightens up, clearly recognizing this man. "Mack," he says, moving toward the truck and peering in at the other people. "Hey there. Y'all back in these parts?"

"Yeah. Hoping to trade for cows. Good to see you. Where y'all heading?"

Mack is obviously the man Amelia mentioned before, and I can immediately see what she appreciated about him. He's strong and handsome but also genuinely friendly—like a warmth radiates out of him that's impossible to contain.

Beyond him, behind the steering wheel, is a dark-haired, rough-looking white man whom Jimmy appears to recognize too. And between the two men is a small, pretty, green-eyed woman.

"We're headin' to my parents'," Jimmy replies. "That's the big farmhouse with the oaks lining the road, if you don't remember. Most of the folks around here should be there this evening, so y'all should join us. The Hurleys'll be there too. I'm sure my parents will let you stay with them like before."

"Sounds good." Mack leans out farther, focusing on me now. "I'm Mack," he says pointedly.

Jimmy should have introduced me, but he didn't.

"Chloe," I say, smiling at him.

"You new around here?"

"Yeah. Just since last fall."

"Nice to meet you, Chloe. This is Rachel beside me, and the guy driving is Cal. He's not as mean as he looks."

I'm glad to hear that because the other man is very intimidating. But I smile at both of the others. Rachel greets me, but Cal just nods.

"All right then," Mack said. "We'll see you over there. Guess you don't need a ride the rest of the way there?"

"No, we're good," Jimmy tells him. "Thanks." He keeps a hand on my back as the pickup starts up again, soon out of sight over the hill.

"Well," I say as we still stand on the side of the road.

"Yeah," Jimmy mumbles, applying gentle pressure with his hand on my back to get us walking again.

We don't say anything else the rest of the way there.

* * *

Ever since the weather warmed up in the spring, the Carlsons' Saturday dinners have been hosted outside.

Despite their large living room, there are simply too many people gathered for it to be comfortable when the weather is warm. So instead of being hot and crowded inside, we spread out in their backyard, settling at picnic tables or small chair groupings or spreading out blankets on the grass, depending on the weather and each individual's physical condition.

Tonight the main course is smoked pork ribs and baked potatoes, but there are always a lot of side dishes depending on what others bring.

I'm not hungry at all, but I nibble at a couple of ribs and otherwise stick to bread.

No one appears to notice or care. Jimmy isn't even sitting beside me. He's sitting on an overturned crate near the big table.

Amelia's not even here today. Her mom tells me she has bad period cramps. I'm disappointed on her account because I know she likes Mack, and I'm disappointed for myself too—if she were here, I'd have someone easy and secure to hang out with.

As it is, I end up gravitating toward Paula, who is always happy to talk to me. Unfortunately, Laura comes over to eat with us too, so I have to put up with a lot of underhanded, fake-sweet comments.

I tune them out. Try not to stare at Jimmy soulfully. Attempt to keep up the pretense of eating so no one will wonder whether I'm sick.

At one point, Paula asks if I'm feeling okay, but otherwise my mood goes unnoticed.

After all the food has been eaten, I help with the cleanup and dishwashing. Greta asks Laura to dump the compost, but Laura is predictably ready with an excuse about an ankle she twisted the other day.

Without a word, I reach for the kitchen compost pail and take it out myself.

I've done it before. Many times. The pail is large and heavy because it's filled up to the rim right now. It's also round with no handles, so the only way I can carry the weight is to hug it with both arms.

It's disgusting. The effort and the smell nauseate me again.

I'm halfway there when strong hands take the pail out of my grip. I didn't see a man come after me, and normally I would have assumed it was Jimmy. But I know it's not.

It doesn't smell like him. Or feel like him.

The man I see when I turn is Mack. He grins down at me. "This thing is almost as big as you are. Why're they making you haul it?"

"I volunteered. I was doing okay." I return his smile because he seems so genuine. Not remotely condescending, and neither flirtatious nor predatory.

Simply warm. Genuinely warm.

"You were doing great. You can have it back if you want."

I huff. "No, thank you. I appreciate the help."

Since he's assisting in my chore, I walk with him the rest of the way to the compost heap—which is kept at a distance in a side yard so the smell won't waft over into the house.

"Did you talk to the Hurleys about the cows?" I ask him.

"Yeah. They knew I'd be back this year, so they've already picked some out for us. They needed some time to breed more, and we needed time to get enough together to trade. Y'all are so self-sufficient here that our normal trades wouldn't be of much interest to you."

"So what did you end up offering?" The topic is distracting me from both my mournful mood and the return of my queasiness.

"Well, we've got an underground bunker in our community that was able to hold on to technology that the rest of us lost after Impact. So we were able to use solar batteries to build a few mechanized butter churns and flour mills. Good-sized ones that can handle a lot."

I suck in a breath. "Wow! That could be life-changing. It takes so much manual labor to make this community work, and that could take a little of the load off."

"That's what we were thinking. Thought it might be a fair deal for the cows. We've done pretty good for ourselves, but all the farms around us lost their cows and we could never find any more. We've gone all this time without milk or butter or cheese or beef. Nothing but goats' milk and goat cheese. Which just isn't the same."

"No. It's not. I'm glad you'll be able to get some, and hopefully eventually you'll be able to breed a supply large enough for your whole community."

"That's what we're hoping. Got to start somewhere."

"Well, good luck to you. How long are you staying?"

"At least a few days. So I might see you around."

I smile at him as we part ways. As soon as the conversation ends, the distraction dissipates and I'm heavy and blah again. I see Jimmy looking at me as I return to the group. I meet his eyes but don't know what he's thinking.

He doesn't smile or make any sort of welcoming gesture, so I assume he still doesn't want to be close to me.

Everyone is starting to gather around a firepit outside, as we've been doing nearly every Saturday since it's gotten warmer.

The sun is low in the sky. It's not fully dark yet, but the evening is full of shadows. Jimmy has turned away from me, so I sit on the corner of a blanket next to the Hurleys. Amelia's mother is incredibly gracious and thoughtful, and she asks me several questions about my health and mood tonight.

I assure her that I'm just a little tired, and she leans over to give me a one-armed hug. "Okay, honey. But if you need anything—advice or help or anything—make sure you come to me. A good man can be a great partner, but they're not all we need. Sometimes you need a woman to help you through things."

Her kindness almost makes me cry. I nod and smile and mumble out thanks before she thankfully leaves me alone.

Jimmy's dad brings out the guitar and hands it to Jimmy, who is sitting on a tree stump across the firepit from me. A couple of people suggest songs. Jimmy strums an easy accompaniment to the people who want to sing.

I don't. I don't know a lot of the songs, and I don't have the energy anyway. But I've always liked to hear the music. My neighbors are lively—the visitors adding some excitement to our normal gathering—and some of them even start dancing.

I should be enjoying this, but I'm not.

I just want to go home, but then I'll be all alone with a Jimmy who's angry and disappointed in me.

And I still don't entirely understand why.

Laura is sitting on the ground beside him, beaming up at him in a very obvious way.

He said he wasn't going to kick me out, but there's nothing stopping him from doing so. If I'm not who he wants me to be, he can find another woman.

Maybe he should have picked Laura. Maybe she could have done a better job, been who he wanted her to be.

The thought hurts like hell—like it's literally ripping my heart out of my chest—so I try to file it away with other thoughts and reflections I'm not ready to deal with. But this one won't go away. It sits in my mind and claws at me.

Wilson Turlington—a quiet, fortyish guy who lives in a small house down the way—got "divorced" from his wife a couple of years ago. Since there are no legal proceedings for it, it was simply declared. I'm not sure exactly how it happened—whether it was his choice or his neighbors' expectations—but he didn't turn his ex-wife out of his house. He still feeds and houses her even though he's paired up with a different woman. They all live in the home together.

Maybe that's what will happen to me. I'll have to live in the tiny storage room while Jimmy moves on to a different woman and fucks her in our bed.

The possibility hits me with another wave of nausea. How will I ever survive that?

I decide right then and there that I won't. I'll never live like that. I'll move back in with the Carlsons, or maybe the Hurleys will have me, and I'll do everything I can to help out and support the household. I'll never partner up with a man again.

Or else I'll take the ATV we still have parked in our shed with its half a tank of gas and sneak back into The Wild. I'll go back to Grandpa's cabin.

I don't care how desperate or helpless I am. I'll never stick around to watch Jimmy live life with someone other than me.

I haven't been listening to what's happening with the music, but they must have recognized that Mack has a really good voice and asked him to sing. He sings a love song I remember from the radio as a child. It's incredibly touching and poignant, and the random chatting in the background silences completely.

I can't help but wonder if Mack loves someone and, if so, why he sounds so heartbroken about it.

Maybe it's just the song. He gives us his typical grin when he ends the song.

Greta suggests he sing another, and Mack asks for requests.

I haven't paid much attention to his companions—Cal and Rachel are their names—but they're clearly a couple despite the age difference. They're sitting on the ground together, leaning against a wall of the closest outbuilding. Cal's got his arm around her. She's leaning into him.

Rachel asks, "Can you sing something for Derek? He was?—"

"Cal's son." Mack meets the other man's eyes across the fire and nods. "I know."

I don't know any backstory here, but it seems pretty obvious. Cal had a son and lost him.

Everyone's lost someone. Some of us have lost everyone.

It's the reality of the world after Impact.

Mack clears his throat. Leans over and murmurs something to Jimmy. Then Jimmy plays the opening bars to a song I recognize but can't immediately name because it's been so long since I've heard it.

It's "Amazing Grace."

The words come back to me as soon as Mack begins to sing.

Some of the others sing with him more softly, but his pure, powerful baritone sounds over the other voices.

And it's haunting. Beautiful. Shattering. In the shadows of the evening and the flickering firelight, the familiar words about love and hope—about rescue and healing—take on an almost bittersweet poignance.

It feels like it's breaking my heart.

I can't hold back the tears, and I'm not the only one. Mrs. Hurley is sniffing and dabbing her eyes. Rachel has tears on her cheeks as she grips Cal's hands.

I'm not even sure how to describe how powerful the moment is. As if Mack's warm, rich, soulful voice as he sings a song laden with faith and history somehow embodies the world as it is now. After Impact. The brokenness. The loss. The instability. And the faint thread of hope that still holds it together.

It's too much for me. When he gets to the image of a bright, shining future in the last verse, I start to choke.

For a moment or two, I try to swallow it down, but I can't. I can't. I stumble to my feet and hurry away from the circle of firelight. When I'm far enough away, I finally break down in tears, but they wrack me. Utterly.

I choke again. Fall on my knees. Sob in painful spasms until I actually start vomiting again.

Partway through the heaves, I'm vaguely aware of someone else coming up behind me. Kneeling beside me. Pulling the loose strands of my hair back so I don't throw up on them.

It's Jimmy. I can't see anything but the ground in front of me, but I know it's him. When I've stopped vomiting at last, I fall into helpless tears.

He pulls me away from the place where I threw up and gathers me into his arms, on his lap. He holds me as I cough and sputter and weep all over his shirt.

He doesn't say anything for a long time. Not until I've finally grown quiet and limp in his arms.

I need to sit up, but I'm not sure I can.

I'm so incredibly weak.

And devastated.

"Are you still sick?" he asks hoarsely, like his voice isn't accustomed to being used. "I thought you were gettin' better."

"I'm not sick." I start shaking again. Hide my face.

How much longer am I going to be able to hide what's actually wrong with me?

"You threw up," he murmurs, sounding worried and almost bewildered. "Was that just from bein' upset?"

I can't stop trembling. I can't pull my face away from his T-shirt. The soft fabric and firm chest beneath it feel and smell so familiar.

After a minute, he gently pulls me away. Holds my head in both his hands and peers down at me. It's not quite dark yet, but it's close. But I know he can see me still. "Chloe, tell me what's goin' on. I know we had that fight, but there's got to be more to it. You been sick for more than a week now. And you seem so tired, and you keep cryin' and fallin' apart when you never did before… and…" He sucks in a sharp gasp as he trails off.

I'm blinking up at him, so I can see a succession of emotions cross his face. Anxiety. Frustration. Recognition. Hope. Excitement. Confusion. A bewildered kind of pain. "Are you…? Chloe, are you…?"

I drop my eyes and nod. There's no way I can keep this secret anymore.

"What… Why didn't you tell me?" He's even hoarser now. He sounds hurt.

"I didn't know… I wasn't sure how… I was scared." I bite my lip, wishing I had a better answer.

"Why were you—?" He breaks off his own question. I sense the withdrawal inside him even before I see it in his posture and expression. "Oh. I get it. A baby wasn't part of our deal, so you thought… What? That I'd kick you and the baby out?"

It's absolutely true, but he makes it sound so terrible. He lets go of me, and I hug my arms tightly to my chest in an attempt to rein in my shaking.

"What was I supposed to think? You always pull out. You never said a word about us having a baby. You never said anything to make me think it was something you'd want. You never really open up to me even when I ask you about things. What was I supposed to think? Why are you acting like I betrayed you? All this time, I've just been trying to follow our deal."

He stares at me a long time, breathing raggedly. Finally he jerks his head to the side, closes his eyes, and mutters, "You're right. You followed our deal. You haven't betrayed me. You haven't done anything wrong."

"But you're hurt! I hurt you!"

"I'm not hurt. I'm…" He lets out an almost bitter laugh. "Everything I'm feelin' right now is all my own fault. It's not yours. You haven't done anythin' wrong." He pushes himself to his feet and then bends down to help me stand too.

I'm still shaky, but I manage to hold myself up. "I don't want you to be hurt, Jimmy. I want you to be happy."

"I know you do. I'll be fine. I promise."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." He reaches out to cup my cheek for just a few seconds, then lets his hand drop.

"What about…?" I rub my belly.

"You don't have to worry about that. If the baby makes it, we'll have a baby. We'll be okay parents. Don't you think?"

I nod, part of the tension finally relaxing inside me. "I think so."

"Okay. Good. We'll be all right. I just gotta… I gotta adjust my…" He clears his throat and gives his head a hard shake. "We'll be fine."

It doesn't feel exactly fine to me. Something is still really wrong. But it's better than it was before. At least I'm not terrified that I'll lose everything that means anything to me. "Okay."

He sighs and peers down at me. "Let's head home. You look like you're gonna fall over at any minute."

"I'm not that bad."

"Well, you're clearly not feelin' good, so let's go home anyway."

"Okay." I'm still filled with fluttery anxiety, and I need to do something to calm it a little or I'll never make it home. So, greatly daring, I reach over for Jimmy's hand, gripping it needily.

He doesn't pull his away, so I can keep holding on to his hand as we say goodbye to the others and then leave the farm to head home.