Part Two, Chapter Thirty-Two

As he went down the steps into the storage room, Donovan thought back to his first days on the farm, when he had been so certain they had a hoard of valuable goods. It looked like he was finally going to get a chance to find out.

At the foot of the stairs was a battery-powered lantern. He turned it on and held it aloft, his eyes widening in surprise. The room was bigger than he had imagined, and well-organized, with rows and rows of neatly labeled racks and shelves. He found another lamp on a table in the center of the room and he turned it on so he would have more light. Then he looked all around, taking in the tightly spaced wooden vigas overhead, the plastered adobe walls fronted on all sides with utilitarian metal shelving, and the floor of hard-packed earth. It was cold down here, but he scarcely noticed. He was too astounded at what he saw.

There were bolts of cloth, bins of yarn, and whole boxes of batteries and flints. He saw solar panels and lanterns, light bulbs, machine parts and flashlights. There was liquor— lots of it. Not just homemade wine, but hoarded vintages, as well as brandy, whiskey and rum. And this was also where they had stored their parents' old clothes— expensive things in suede, silk, leather and velvet. One whole shelf glittered with crystal, china, brass, silver and copper. And in a small casket, he found genuine treasure— gold and diamond rings that must have been their parents' wedding rings, gold chains, silver earrings. There were jewels here, too— earrings and chokers set with glittering stones in green, red and blue. And in another casket was an astonishing hoard of gold and silver coins.

Donovan sat on a stool, dizzy with shock. This was no modest stash; these women were rich. What were they doing living like paupers? Of course, some of this wealth had probably been earmarked for setting up the clinic Carina and Miles had once planned. But still...had he been stealing for these women for the past year when they were fully capable of buying anything they needed? He was too stunned to know if he was angry, but he suspected he was.

Still reeling, he looked around for the sugar. He couldn't allow himself to get distracted and stay down here too long or Carina might grow suspicious. He found the sacks of sugar near a shelf of spices and beside an amazing array of canned goods. No wonder the meals around here were so good. He scooped some sugar out of the sack and into the canister Carina had given him. Then he tied the sack tightly and went to the table to turn off the light. For a moment, he cast a look back over at the small chest where he had found the coins. Surely they wouldn't notice if...no, what kind of thinking was that? They knew exactly what they had, and they would miss it.

When he returned to the kitchen, he found Amalia stirring the soup for the evening meal and talking idly to Carina as she fluted a pie crust. They both looked at him as he handed over the sugar, but he kept his face blank, as if he'd seen nothing remarkable. "When's the pie going to be ready?"

"Tonight," Carina said. "But you can't have any until tomorrow."

"I'd hoped you want someone to taste it first, make sure it's good."

"We'll just have to take our chances."

He kissed Amalia on the cheek then went to his room to lie down until dinner was ready. His mind was on fire with possibilities. He wouldn’t steal from them, of course, but now that he knew they had resources, he himself had options. He was still pondering the matter when Amalia called him to dinner.

* * *

The next day, after a spartan breakfast of coffee and oat cakes soaked in milk, the women banished Will and Donovan from the kitchen. They spent the rest of the morning and early part of the afternoon chopping, beating, stirring, steaming and baking, and at three o'clock, they sat the family down to a feast. But although the ladies and children enjoyed the meal, Donovan drank glass after glass of wine and brooded.

After dinner, they sipped port in the living room, all of them stuffed and sleepy. The children, who had each been permitted a tiny glass of wine with dinner, dozed off. Amalia rose to put them down for naps, then yawned and murmured that she wouldn't mind taking a nap herself, if it weren't for the dirty dishes and the leftovers. "We can't leave that stuff out."

"I'll do it," Carina offered. She got to her feet and stretched her arms overhead.

"It's not fair to let you do it alone."

"I'll help," Donovan said.

Carina's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but she went to the kitchen and began pumping water into the sink. She tensed when Donovan came up behind her, but he merely began scraping plates into the scrap bucket and handing them to her. They worked in silence for a long time, washing dishes, putting leftovers into containers and taking the ones that needed to be kept cold to the small root cellar. Carina washed the kettles and utensils that she could, then they took the ones that needed scouring outside to scrub with sand. They were rinsing them at the pump, pouring the dirty water into the drain that led to the gray water tank, when Donovan looked at her.

"I'm leaving for Higdon in a couple days. What do you think Amalia and the children would like me to get them for Christmas?"

Carina rambled for a bit, offering ideas and speculations.

"And what about you? What do you want?"

"Nothing."

Donovan wiped his hands on his pants and considered her in the fading light. "I guess I should've known," he said, "That a woman of your resources would want for nothing."

Carina set aside the last of the skillets. "What do you mean by that?"

"Oh, come on, Carina. You think I didn't see what you've got down there in your little hoarding room? You've got some nerve taking payment from some of the poorest people in this valley and letting me and Alvi buy you things, when you're rich."

Carina shook her head. "It's not like that at all."

"Well, that's sure how it looks to me."

"Most of that is what our parents put by for us. It's for drought years, for years when we lose crops to insects or lose stock to disease. It's for hiring hands when we become too old to work. And it was once going to be for our children. It'll be for Will and Tasha now, and any others we might adopt." She met his eyes earnestly. "We're not bad people, Donovan. So what if we hold things back for the future? The best way you can help your neighbors is to not need their help. And I resent what you said about my work. I never charge people who are too poor to pay. I'd do all my work for free, if it were practical."

"Practical? Yes, you're the most practical of women, aren't you? You spend years living in some fantasy world, give false encouragement to a federal spy and sleep with your sister's man. Then you climb back up on your pedestal, like you've got some kind of moral high ground."

"You're drunk. You know it's nothing like that."

"Do I? Then why won't you prove to me it wasn't some game of yours? You're rich. We could leave this place, go away somewhere, set ourselves up with a farm, a house in a town somewhere, or anything you like."

"You're talking crazy. I would never leave my sister."

"Why not? With a hoard like that, she can take care of herself. Besides, she expects you to leave."

Carina's frown was hurt and sincere. "She does?"

"Yes. She thinks when Alvi comes back..."

Carina dismissed the notion with a wave of her hand. "She knows I don't like him that way."

"Run away with me, then. You like me that way. The world may be falling to pieces, but that's what makes it interesting. There are Catalunias all across this country. We can explore every one of them. You can wear pink scarves, we can make love by moonlight in abandoned mansions and we don't have to ever let it end."

Carina grew misty-eyed for a moment, considering the possibilities. But then she wiped her cold hands on her apron. "I've already given you my answer. And when wine has worn off, you'll see this is the only way."

"I'll never agree that this is the way it has to be. But I can be sure to never ask you again." He put a hand on her wrist. "Are you really that loyal to your sister? Do you really want this to be it? Forever?"

"I hate that word, forever. But I can't do it. I just can't."

"You don't mean that." He tried to meet her eyes, but she kept her gaze fixed stubbornly on the ground.

"Yes, I do. Please don't tempt me again. Ever."

Donovan stepped back, suddenly ashamed. She looked on the verge of tears as she stood in the fading light of day, hugging herself in her thin black dress as the wind whipped her skirts. Her collar had come open and the blue necklace glinted at her throat, mocking him. "Okay, then." He walked toward the house, kettles forgotten, not even noticing as she sank down to the ground, pulled her knees in close and began to cry.

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