Chapter Four

After a lunch of posole and a cup of Carina’s herbal tea, Carina set her workbasket of laundered fleece by the side of the bed and gave Donovan a demonstration of how to tease the wool for carding by pulling each lock apart and picking out stray debris. Donovan cleaned wool for half an hour before the tea, tedium and general weakness of his body caught up with him and he fell asleep. When he awoke, the sun was low in the sky and he could smell food in the kitchen. He guessed they were having posole again, but there was another smell too, that he couldn’t place. It was pleasant, and he got back to work on the wool, hoping he might finish before dinner and charm an extra portion.

He had teased all but the last three locks when Carina came to check on him. Her eyes lit up with pleasure at the sight of the fluffy cloud of wool ready for carding. "This is great. I looked in on you earlier and you were asleep, so I didn’t think you’d finish before dark."

"I'm not lazy, and I’ll be better soon. Then I can pay you back for everything you’ve done for me."

Carina gathered the cleaned wool into the workbasket. "You should be thinking about getting healthy again. Then if you think you owe us anything, we can work something out." She started toward the door.

"Aren’t you going to show me what to do with that next?"

Carina hesitated, resting the basket on her hip. "Let’s see how you’re feeling after dinner. I don’t want you doing too much, and carding might make you use that shoulder. You should rest."

"This kind of work is restful."

"I guess it is. It sure beats working out in the fields." She set the basket on the chair and started toward the kitchen. "I’ll show you how to card it after dinner. It’s something you can do without a lot of light, so it’s a good evening chore."

Dinner was posole again, but it was good, and Donovan didn’t mind. The broth was thicker than the soups he had been given at the mess hall and had plenty of hominy, vegetables and bits of chicken. He wondered where the women got such good food. Surely they didn’t grow or raise everything on their little farm, just the two of them. They must be hoarders. That was why Amalia was so suspicious of him. They probably had a stash somewhere of food, medicine, batteries and who knew what else. Maybe they even had gold. No wonder they feared the Guard. Guardsmen would take everything.

Donovan's thoughts were interrupted by Carina entering the room, accompanied by the pleasant smell he had noticed earlier. He examined the bowl she set in front of him.

"What's this?"

"Apples."

"These aren't like any apples I've ever seen. What did you put in them?"

"Cinnamon."

"What's that?"

"A spice. It used to be very common."

So they hoarded spices. If they had a lot, they were rich. "I see," Donovan said, digging into his apples with enthusiasm.

"We trade for spices sometimes," Carina said quickly. "Being a veterinarian is a big advantage in the country."

"So there are other farms out here?"

"A few farms, a church, a small mill, a couple towns and a reservation are all within a days' travel, but we don't leave often, now that Mother is gone. I haven't been to town to trade or collect my ration books in months."

"And you can make a go of things, without your ration books?"

Carina darted a nervous glance toward the door, as if she would flee. "This time of year, when things are growing, it's not so hard. Especially if we can trade or get some work."

"What do you usually trade? When you can, of course."

"Fruits and vegetables, in season. Preserves. Goat cheese. Eggs. Alfalfa. We don't raise sheep but we trade for wool with some of our neighbors here in the valley. Then we make yarn and knit socks and sweaters to sell. If we need something that will bring in a little more money, we might trade a picture, a piece of old jewelry, some of Mom's herbal remedies or a pair of Dad's old shoes." She shrugged. "We trade what we have, like everyone else."

"I see," Donovan said again. He could tell by the way Carina was acting that they had more than she was telling. This was a good place to make friends and lie low. He flashed his most disarming smile. "This is the best dessert I've ever had. If there's any you don't know what to do with, I'll try to help you with it."

Carina took the empty bowl. "You really shouldn't have any more. I'm trying not to overtax your system, since you were without food for several days." At Donovan's pleading look, she relented. "I'll give you a little more, but that's it. And I'll bring your tea, too."

After Donovan had his second bowl of apples and a cup of tea, he felt warm and almost too full to do anything but sleep. But he had promised Carina he would work, so he let her teach him the simple task of brushing the cleaned wool between spiked wooden paddles and rolling the straightened fibers for spinning. As the sun went down and the room darkened, he heard scuffling in the other room. Carina, who had been mending a sock, jumped up. "Amalia," she called. "Let's do that in here tonight." She laid down her work and left the room.

A few minutes later, Carina was back, her sister following with a brass lamp in her hands and a book and some knitting under her arm. Amalia set these items on the nightstand while Carina pulled up a second chair. "When Amalia and I left the city and came to live out here with our parents, the family agreed that each of us could have one luxury. Amalia's choice was books."

"It's something I can share," Amalia added, switching on the electric lamp. She cast a wary eye on Donovan while Carina pulled the curtains closed.

"What did you choose, Carina?" Donovan asked, pretending that the bright electric lamp was not in any way remarkable.

Amalia answered for her. "She chose her vanity."

"No need to give me grief about it."

"But you admit it's true."

"I suppose so." She turned to Donovan. "I use my allowance for lotions, perfume and things like that, rather than always make my own. I've kept a few nice dresses instead of cutting them up for quilts or trading them in town, and I still have a bit of costume jewelry, although I only wear it for special occasions."

"Which is every holiday she can remember," Amalia said, "Plus a few she makes up."

Carina settled herself into a chair and picked up her darning. "So what? When Miles returns..."

"Yes, I know," Amalia said. "Everything is going to be wonderful when Miles comes home." Her tone was softened by the affectionate glance she cast her sister's way. She flipped open her book. "At least my indulgence can be shared."

"We're reading Robinson Crusoe," Carina said. "We hope you enjoy it."

"Tough luck if you don't." Amalia set a heavy marker on the book to hold the pages open, picked up her knitting, and began reading where she had left off the previous night. "Being glad I was alive, without the least reflection upon the distinguished goodness of the hand which had preserved me. . ."

Donovan leaned back against the pillows, carding wool mindlessly while he listened to the words.

"As soon as I saw but a prospect of living and that I should not starve and perish for hunger, all the sense of my affliction wore off; and I began to be very easy, applied myself to the works proper for my preservation and supply. . ."

The sound of her voice was soothing, the scene peaceful and luxurious beyond anything he had ever known. The comfortable bed, the bright pure light, the simple steady rhythm of easy tasks and the indulgence of being read to seemed like a dream.

"And if nothing happens without His knowledge, He knows that I am here, and am in this dreadful condition; and if nothing happens without His appointment, He has appointed all this to befall me," Amalia read.

As Donovan basked in the pleasant sweetness of his situation, he tried to keep his eyes open, but in spite of his wish to continue, the paddles slipped out of his hands. Before he could will himself awake, he was asleep.

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