The Journal: Cracked Earth (39 page)

“What about the steam?” he reminded me.

“This is just to take the chill off. It’s
easier to boil warm sap than it is cold. We’ll take it out and add
it to the big pot before it can come to a boil and start steaming.”
This was a lesson that I learned that first year in the woods, and
made the cooking down go much faster.

* * *

I saw the boys, their children, and the puppy
crossing the yard around five o’clock. Jason stopped to examine the
pails on the trees, making some comments to Eric. I was about to
say something to Jason about rationing when he set a six pack of
beer on the table. He produced a bottle of zinfandel, so I figured
I could remind him later.

“Uncle Don tapped his trees, didn’t he?”
Jason asked.

“Yes, so that equipment should be around
somewhere. Maybe in their barn? I know he used the deep fryer
burner for cooking. He would always set up the syrup stuff and his
beer brewing in that screened shelter you built him.” I visualized
my brother sitting out there with a tarp dropped as a wind block
and felt my throat tighten a bit. “Are you going to tap?”

“I think so. It’ll give us something to do.”
Jason was getting bored. Eric would too, eventually. We all would
in time.

I noticed the puppy sniffing around Tufts’
food dish, so I moved it onto the table and sat back down. She
scarfed up the pieces that had landed on the floor just when Tufts
decided to make an appearance. We all watched with interest, and we
wouldn’t let either animal get hurt. The pup went to Tufts,
sniffing with playful curiosity. Tufts hissed and Chivas stopped.
The cat sat down where he was and so did the pup, but being a
puppy, Chivas lasted five seconds sitting still and ventured closer
to this big black furry thing. When she got too close, Tufts gave
her a healthy swat on the nose with a clawless paw, and sent her
scurrying to hide behind a table leg then Tufts slowly sauntered
out of the room. I thought their first meeting went very well.

“Why don’t you build something, Jason?” I
commented. “Now that the power is back, I would think you’d be
anxious to fire up your workshop.”

His head came up sharply, and he turned
toward the clock with its red digital numbers shining brightly,
like he was seeing it for the first time.

“I forgot that today was the day. Yeah, maybe
I’ll make something…” he trailed off, lost in thought. He turned
back, smiled, raised his beer and said, “To electricity!” He still
had that faraway look in his eyes. Eric was preoccupied with his
daughter. John was silent, staring out the window. Something felt
very wrong with my family.

* * *

Later that evening after the boys had left
John asked me if I missed going to work.

“In a way, yes, I do miss it. Massage is a
calling to me, it’s how I help people,” I said, then something
occurred to me. “Are you asking for a massage?”

“Oh, no, that’s not what I was getting at,”
he said with a hint of embarrassment. “I was thinking that with the
power back on and things getting back to normal, you might be
called back to the resort.”

“That’s always a possibility, though things
aren’t
back to normal, John. We just have electricity back,
that’s all. We still have a gasoline shortage, and I don’t know if
there will be propane deliveries or not. There still isn’t any food
coming to Fram’s. I doubt that Mack’s has been fully restocked
either.” Something else occurred to me. “Do
you
miss going
to work, John?”

I was afraid to hear his answer.

“Working at the mine, or rather, for
Green-Way, had some advantages. I would get up, be driven to the
mine, work a twelve hour shift, be driven back. I ate dinner or
breakfast and went to bed. The next day I did the same thing. Seven
days a week, for six weeks straight. I never had to think about my
day or what I had to do. It was always the same. I never had to
think, so I had no worries.” He had a shadow of sadness in his
voice. “Of course when I was at the mine, I was always thinking
about the job, what we were doing, what could happen a mile
underground, and I was very good at what I did. Very good. They
paid me exceedingly well for that. Sometimes I think they paid us
so well because we had no other life. It was a way to keep us
content— a big paycheck. The only break, the only thing I ever had
to look forward to was you, once a week.” He smiled at me, but
there was pain there, in the back of his eyes.

* * *

JOURNAL ENTRY: March 16

Once again we brought in some slushy sap and
made a small pot of coffee with it. Fresh maple sap with fresh
ground coffee. It can’t get any better than this. All this ran
through my mind as we went through the process and the motions of
plugging things back into the grid, setting the cell phones, the
4G, the Bluetooth, and the tablet on their chargers, powering up
the satellite receiver on the TV and setting the clocks. How
quickly we are reverting to those old ways. I felt saddened by this
for some reason. I should be glad, shouldn’t I? Things are on the
way to being back to normal, right? Was I happy with the old
normal? I think that I almost prefer my new normal. It isn’t less
stressful but I think I am happier, or at least more content in
some ways. Maybe it’s just that I was more needed.

It’s Saturday, no school for the kids. I
called Jason on the phone. Wow, does that feel strange. I made
arrangements for Emilee to come over while I make bread. She’s ten
and it’s time she learned how. I’m hoping Jason never finds Nancy’s
electric bread maker! Some things are just better by hand. Another
interesting revelation is that I keep mentally deferring to Jason
as being in charge over there, where Eric is actually the older of
the two. I wonder why I do that.

* * *

“So, Emi, did your mom ever make fresh
bread?”

She stood there grinning in the blue denim
apron her uncle had made me when he was a few years older than she
is now. I had required both boys to take a home economics class
when they entered high school. Jason chose to make
me
something in the sewing segment. My four “requirements” had served
them well: home economics, drafting, typing and shop. They both
could cook and do basic sewing, they both follow patterns and
blueprints when building things, they learned do many basic
household repairs, and typing. It’s the way of the world with
computers. Eric even called me one time from a training session
while he was still in the military to thank me for making him take
typing. Those were some wonderful memories for me.

“Only once, and she used the bread machine
Grandpa Jim gave her,” Emilee said wistfully, stirring the flour
with her finger. “It tasted really good!”

She smiled, although I could tell she was
thinking of her mom.

“Well, I’m going to show you how to make the
same yummy bread without using a machine. Would you like that?”

I need to get her thoughts away from her
mother, whom she might not see for a long time. When she nodded
vigorously, I remembered how resilient young children were.

“First we put a cup of warm water in this big
bowl. The water can’t be too hot, and not too cold. Here, stick
your finger in to feel the temperature. You did wash your hands
didn’t you?”

Looking down at my granddaughter, I couldn’t
help but think of a framed picture hanging on my wall of Emilee at
the age of eight, set into a picture of me at the same age. Except
for one picture being in color, the other in black and white, we
looked like twins. It was uncanny.

“How does the water feel?” I asked.

“Warm, not hot,” she answered. We added two
teaspoons of sugar and the same of yeast, and then she stirred it,
and we waited until it began to bubble and foam. Then she added a
teaspoon of salt and a quarter cup of oil, measuring it all
carefully. Next in was a quarter cup of instant milk and one cup of
flour. I let her do all the stirring. I don’t know how she got
flour on her nose and on her chin, but there it was. My heart
swelled. We added flour until she couldn’t stir it anymore, and
then I took over. Emi added flour a bit at a time while I stirred
until the dough was stiff. I sprinkled some flour over the top and
worked it into a sticky ball with my hand, while she put more flour
on the countertop. I dumped the dough into that and scraped the
bowl.

“Are you ready for the fun part?” I
asked.

Her eyes got big. I started kneading it,
first pushing it with the heel of my hands, then pulling it back
with my fingers, and then I let her try. She got the hang of it
pretty quickly. I was pleased.

“Keep going while I clean the bowl.”

I washed the big bowl and put a splash of oil
in it, while she punched and beat the bread dough. We put it into
the bowl, turning it so the oil coated it, and then covered the big
yellow bowl with a towel to rise.

Emi and I took a walk outside to watch John
work on the syrup. I saw him quickly pocket his cellphone when we
approached the barn.

He had collected and cooked down twenty
gallons. The sap in the pot was turning darker all the time. I
could tell he was excited over the prospect of making his first
maple syrup. He promised a curious Emilee that he would explain the
different rocks in the table top to her later, when he was done
cooking. By the time Emi and I collected eggs, the bread was ready
for folding into a loaf, and its second rise.

“Why does it take so long, Nahna?” “Good
things take longer,” I answered.

Another hour and the bread was ready for the
oven. I set the timer for forty minutes just as John brought in the
pot of golden syrup. I stirred it, watching it slide off the
spoon.

“Almost ready!”

I set the pot on the stove, lighting the
burner. It didn’t take long for it to bubble, and I lowered the
heat so it wouldn’t scorch. It would be a small batch, but it was
an important one. The excitement in the house was high with
Emilee’s first loaf of homemade bread and John’s first batch of
maple syrup— and the accompanying delicious aromas—competing for
our attention. The house smelled wonderful!

I slipped away to call Eric, sure he would
want to be part of this. Everyone showed up a few minutes after I
took the bread out of the oven.

“Oh, man, does it smell good in here!” Eric
exclaimed when he walked in and hugged his daughter.

“Dad! I made bread! I really did, didn’t I,
Nahna?” Emilee looked over at me as she clung to her father.

“You sure did,” I said. I cut the first slice
of the hot bread, even though it was really still too hot. I
portioned a couple of slices cut in half for us to dip into a bowl
of John’s maple syrup. Dessert before dinner! It was wonderful.

“I’m taking some time off, Anna. With the power back
on, everyone is happy and things are getting back to normal. You
don’t need me anymore.” I leaned back in my chair. “I’ll file a
final report today. You can send it to Don or do whatever you want
with it. I’m also officially resigning as your deputy.”

I’m sure she conveniently forgot I was still
sworn in from when she was down with the flu.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Allexa? I
understand that this has been very stressful for you. It has for
all of us. You’ve been a tremendous asset to the town and we won’t
forget all that you’ve done.” She was quiet for a minute, as if
trying to formulate the right words in her head for what she wanted
to say. “You
will
be compensated, Allexa, I assure you.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“I know you don’t, but
I
do!”

“I really have other things I need to do now,
Anna.”

This was hard to explain and it wasn’t coming
out the way that I had wanted. I needed to not worry about everyone
in Moose Creek. I needed to talk to my sister and my friends. I
needed to plant flowers and tomatoes. I needed to get my life back.
I needed a lot of things I felt I was losing my grip on.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I
will accept your resignation as my deputy, and don’t you dare try
to resign from being emergency manager. That one I will
not
accept.”

“Deal.”

I turned back to my computer to do a final
report. I wanted to go home.

* * *

JOURNAL ENTRY: March 19

The weather has been staying in the high 50’s
during the day, and drying the ground out nicely. I hauled out my
tumbler composter from under the cistern platform. Although with
the power back on, I have the washing machine available anytime I
needed it, I had kept in the back of my mind that the composter
would make a good manual washing device, and one of these days, I
intended to find out if it could work. Even not using it for
clothes, I could see using it to wash blankets and big items, since
the capacity is three times that of the washing machine. Maybe I’ll
try it for the bedspread soon, instead of going to the
Laundromat.

The sap has been running really good, a
constant flow instead of a fast drip. The weather is perfect for
collecting sap. From each of the six taps, we’ve collected almost
two gallons, twice a day, from the big, mature trees. In only two
days of constant boiling we have enough for a gallon of fresh
syrup. Although the work has been tedious and continuous, it
certainly was not hard.

* * *

I had just set a loaf of cheesy bread to its
final rise when John came in.

“You want to check this batch? I’m thinking
it’s getting close to being ready,” John asked. He really has been
pleased with having something to do and learning something new at
the same time. We walked out to the barn, steam rolling out of the
big doors in fragrant clouds.