Chapter Sixty-Three

Amalia rose early to finish dying Carina's sole remaining dress. After a few soakings in coffee and pecan shell tannins followed by a rinse in cold water, a bath of iron salts, and a lot more rinsing, the finished product lay dripping across the clothesline in the afternoon sun where by nightfall it had dried to a stiff muddy color that while not quite black, was not exactly any other color, either.

While Will checked the jennets and harnesses for the trip and Donovan made a few minor repairs to the cart, Amalia and Tasha prepared food for the road. They boiled eggs, baked cornbread, and cooked tortillas. They made pemmican of fruit, nuts and honey. They packed coffee, jerky, pickles, preserves, and dried apples. Amalia prepared bottles of herbal drinks that would keep Carina nourished if she refused to eat, and would tranquilize her if she became restless or got the urge to rage again.

Carina slept until nearly lunchtime, so while Donovan and the children ate at the kitchen table, Amalia took a tray of cornmeal mush and a cup of strong tranquilizing tea to into the bedroom. She found her sister lying listlessly in bed. In the fresh light of day, she looked wan and not at all healthy. Amalia's meddlesome doubts and jealousies of the previous night slipped away like a bad dream.

"I made the cornmeal mush the way you like it," Amalia said, setting the tray across her lap. "It's got cinnamon, ginger, and a little of that maple sugar you keep hidden in the back of the spice cabinet. You thought I didn't know about your stash, didn't you?"

Carina stared at the bowl and refused to speak.

"You know you can't go to Jonasville in the morning if you don't eat. You'll like it once you taste it."

Carina glared but obeyed.

Amalia sat down and pretended not to pay her any mind. "I think you'll have good weather for the trip. The barometer is holding steady and the skies are clear. I think you should take the road through Catalunia. It'll make your trip longer by about half a day, but it will keep you off the main roads. I don't care what kind of fancy papers Alvi gave him, Donovan still needs to avoid the Feds as much as he can." She glanced at her sister, who was eating as if it were some sort of exotic torture. "Don't you agree?"

Getting no answer, she pressed on with chatter about the crops, the garden and finally the animals. "Will milked the nannies this morning and says they aren't as feisty as usual. They miss you. He says the jennies do, too, especially Cordelia." Amalia paused, scanning her sister's face for signs that she found this subject interesting.

Carina pushed the bowl away. "That's all."

"There's still some left."

"That's all I'm eating."

"Well, okay." Amalia handed her a cup. "Drink this and we'll call it square."

Carina sniffed at the tea in suspicion. She drank it all and handed back the cup with a faint smile. "It won't help."

"What won't help?"

"I know what's in that." She leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes. "You're just trying to keep me quiet. You think I'm going to start breaking and burning things again."

"You have to admit, after what you've done so far, we aren't sure what to expect."

"It's okay, I’m finished."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"I'm done with everything. There's no point. I'll bring him home, and after that..."

"After that, what?"

Carina shrugged and turned her face away.

Amalia lay down on the bed and pulled Carina into her arms where she lay limp and indifferent, like a doll. “It'll get better. I know it feels like it never will, but one day you’ll wake up and sun will be shining and you’ll notice how pretty it is. The birds in the feeder will make you laugh, you’ll be happy to see the buds on the apple trees and you’ll realize you can survive this.”

“I don’t want it to be bearable. I want everything to be like it was.”

Amalia chose her words carefully. “Maybe it wasn't ever like you thought. This is the reality we have to live with.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You don’t get a choice. No one does.”

“There are always choices,” Carina said with an edge to her voice.

“There aren’t always good ones.”

“But they’re still choices.”

Amalia fell silent, unable to find an argument against this line of reasoning. “You know, I spent a long time being angry at the world. Our parents did us a disservice by raising us the way they did, trying to insulate us from what was going on, raising us with old-fashioned education and expectations. It only made things harder. Even here in this valley, we’re still living in a dream. Things are getting worse out there. There isn’t anyone or anything that will make it like it used to be. We have to take a stab at living in the world we’ve got, because no one’s going to give us the one we want.”

Carina shook her head. “I don’t want this world.”

“You haven’t really tried it.”

“I don’t have to.”

Amalia went to the window and pulled the curtains back. She tugged at the sash and opened the window onto a warm afternoon of bird songs and a breeze that smelled faintly of ripening apples. She returned to the bed and took Carina’s hand. “Sometimes if you’re patient with yourself, do the things you know you enjoy even if you can’t take any pleasure from them, it gets easier.” She hesitated, trying to think what to say next. “You can always change your mind later if you find it doesn’t work. Won’t you give it a try, just for a little while? Promise me?”

Carina turned away. Her eyes followed the stirring of the leaves in the apple tree and the flit of a bird on a branch. She remained unmoved by it all, but managed a nod.

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