Part Two, Chapter Fifteen

After the ceremony, Donovan tried to get Carina to go with him to town to help him buy some things for the family, but she claimed a monstrous headache and wanted to hole up in their motel room and rest. So he went to the shopping district alone.

It was a busy place, not unlike Macrina in its combination of shops and street vendors, but here no one pretended to be poor. The Feds were diligent about both tax collection and crime control, so a show of poverty would have been useless. Due to the moderate wave of prosperity brought by the railroad, everyone with something to sell wanted to stand out. The result was several blocks of shiny windows, freshly painted signs and inviting displays. In the breezy afternoon, license certificate ribbons and patriotic flags fluttered from the street vendors' stalls. Criers stood on corners hawking news, passing out advertisements and directing people to specialty stores. It seemed there wasn’t a shop window that didn't feature flags, eagles and slogans in big letters and bright colors. Everything was quite brazenly for sale and Donovan was dazzled.

He found a shop that specialized in children's clothing and selected a few ready-made items for Will and Tasha. He went to a general dry goods store that offered free deliveries, and from a list he had memorized for Amalia, ordered cloth, needles, thread, ribbon, buttons, and dye. On impulse, still thinking enviously of Alvi's smart turnout that morning, he went into a haberdasher's and tried a few things on. He agonized over the price, but paid anyway, then went back out to the street and mingled with the crowds until he found a pocket to pick. It wasn't much, but it would help. He bought some tacos from a street vendor and sat in a park to eat them, watching the people go by.

He marveled that since coming to town, no one had challenged him about his draft status. The leg brace and being in the company of Alvi no doubt helped. But now that he was alone in broad daylight, he couldn’t help noticing a few puzzled glances as he went about his business. Still, they let him be. Maybe it was the black suit he was still wearing from the morning's service. Mourners retrieving their dead were a big part of the local economy. Funny how it hadn't occurred to him that this would be a perfect cover. Who would expect to find a deserter walking the streets of a federal town, and who would dare harass a crippled man in mourning?

With these thoughts, he found a cheaper clothing store than the haberdasher's and bought himself some black pants, a couple of dark shirts and a black jacket and hat. Then he picked another pocket, a better one this time, and was ready to finish his shopping.

He went inside the best ready-made ladies' store he could find and bought Amalia some pants and shirts for farm work, a skirt she could wear with either one of the shirts and a lilac dress trimmed in black that would be appropriate for Miles' funeral. He had to pay to have the items delivered to the hotel, but that was okay.

His final stop was a bakery that also sold confections. Here he bought big boxes of chocolate for Amalia and Carina, and smaller boxes for the children. Remembering the way the dessert the night before had sparked Carina's appetite, he also bought a dozen brownies, and when the baker threw in an extra one free, he fished it out and ate it as he wandered the streets, trying to remember which was the quickest way toward the cab stand.

Suddenly something in a display window caught his eye. He stepped around a woman cajoling her cranky toddler and took a closer look. It was a deceptively simple necklace— merely a few blue beads strung on a collar-length silver chain. But the beads! Donovan had never seen anything so intensely blue before. The one in the center was like a teardrop flanked by smaller round stones which decreased in size on either side until they became the same size as the tiny links of the chain itself. Although the gems weren't faceted, they had been polished until they seemed to glow with an inner light, impossibly beautiful, impossibly blue. He reached a hand in his pocket. He still had one gold piece, a couple of silvers, a federal bill and a few federal coins. In Macrina, that would get him a long way, but money didn't buy as much in Jonasville. Well, it never hurt to ask.

* * *

It took two hours for him to drum up the cash he needed. Long enough get nervous that the chocolates in his bag might melt. Long enough to worry his luck wouldn't hold and he might find himself in a hairy situation. Finally he hit the jackpot when he found an old man dozing in a church pew. Who would be on the lookout for a pickpocket in church?

In short order the blue necklace was his. He even had enough money left over to find a store that sold scotch whiskey. He hired a bicycle rickshaw and went back to the motel, exhausted and only now remembering that he hadn't slept the night before. Well, it had been worth it.

When he got to his room, he found that most of his purchases had already been delivered and were piled on the sofa. He wondered if the delivery boys had disturbed Carina, or if someone from the front office had let them in. Not that it mattered much, but he had hoped Carina would have a few hours to herself.

He set the bags from the confectioner's on the coffee table and started toward the bedroom with a mind toward taking a nap before they had to meet Alvi for dinner, but a low murmur of voices from the other side of the door stopped him. He strained to make out the words, then put his hand on the doorknob and walked in.

Carina sat on the edge of her bed, clenching her skirt so tightly that her knuckles were white. Alvi was leaning over her, speaking words so low, fast, and intense that even with the door open, Donovan couldn't make them out. On the bed was a polished wooden box trimmed in silver, closed with a key, and on the floor was the collapsed remnant of the cardboard box she had been given at the ceremony that morning. Donovan’s first thought was that Carina had become distraught over the keepsake box Alvi had brought her, but by the way the peddler's eyes flashed as he stood up straight, it was clear that something more was going on. "Friend Donovan," he said in a voice as cool and smooth as a knife blade, "It would be nice if you knocked before opening doors."

Donovan walked into the room and met his gaze. "Why would I knock before entering my own room?"

"I'd hardly call it yours since you have yet to sleep in it. Besides, I was thinking of Carina. There are certain courtesies—"

"Hush, Alvi," Carina said, just barely above a whisper. "It doesn't matter."

Alvi rearranged his features into a smile. "Well, then. If it doesn't matter to the lady, it doesn't matter to me." He made a show of looking at his watch. "It's almost dinnertime anyway, so this was good timing."

"I'm not hungry," Carina told him.

"We're not starting that again are we, love? We will have an early dinner at a less pretentious place tonight, since we have to be on the road early in the morning." Then to Donovan, "I told her I would take your wagon to collect her dear husband in the morning. They won't look at my ID. Not that I care if they do."

Donovan wanted to protest but recognized the wisdom of this plan. "I’ll have the wagon ready. Carina and I can follow with your wagon if you like, so we can all get on the road immediately after."

"It sounds like we are in agreement." He turned to Carina. "If this lovely lady will do us the honor, we will go get something to eat. And then," he looked at Donovan, "We will all turn in early. This will be a good night to rest and not be out late, don’t you agree?"

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