July 1
“Have you been out to the water marker lately?” Jim asked Tom over our evening cocktail. “The water is continuing to rise.”
“How far has it come up?” I asked. “We set that marker less than a month ago.”
“It’s up to the six inch mark.”
“Wow, it’s rising quickly,” Tom said.
“That would be six feet a year,” I said after some mental calculations. “It would still take over a decade to refill the lake at that rate, so I don’t think there is much to worry about. I just hope the increase in water doesn’t affect our weather.”
July 2
Tom decided the town needed a break. Everyone was working long hours in the community garden, their private gardens, or stacking wood for the winter.
“I think we can forego a parade, however, I think a community picnic for the Fourth of July would be a nice celebration,” he said. “I know Marsha just received another deer from Art Collins. Wouldn’t it be nice to have grilled burgers for a change?”
July 4
The township park, with playground equipment for the children and a shelter with picnic tables for the adults, took on a festive air with streamers and pinwheels everywhere. I found a couple of bins in the big barn filled with all types of red, white, and blue decorations and nearly everyone came out to help decorate.
Marsha had ground up the venison to make burgers for grilling, and several of the women helped her make buns. There was a gallon container of catsup, one of mustard, and one of dill pickle slices, that she told me privately she had hidden for a special occasion.
“I knew that one day we would have a celebration worthy of something normal. This is it!”
Father Constantine led the town folk in the Lord’s Prayer, followed by a very short sermon. He was getting well known for his brevity in the pulpit.
*
Jim and I strolled through the baseball field. I could almost hear voices coming from beneath my feet, reminding me to be careful where I stepped. I knelt down and cleared the sand from the only grave marker, the flat one that I placed there for Bob and Kathy. It had been less than a year, yet it felt so much longer that they’d been gone.
JOURNAL ENTRY: July 14
With having lost so many people, and so many children, to the flu, birthdays are celebrated with gusto. Today Jacob turns eleven. School is running all summer, so Jacob gets to celebrate with his new friends.
Marsha has taken on baking cupcakes when a child has a birthday and delivers them to the school at lunch, which was nice. I dug a couple of potatoes out of the compost in my greenhouse yesterday, and I’m going to make him a big batch of French fries for lunch. I think he’ll like that better than a gift.
~~~
July 19
“Mom, you know what today is, don’t you?” Eric asked when he found me working in the raised bed garden.
“Do you think I could forget that my only granddaughter is now a teenager??” I laughed. Jacob and Emilee were two years apart in age, and five days apart in birthdays.
“Can I ask what you’re giving her?”
“No, it will be a surprise for you too.”
I had thought long and hard about what to give Emilee that would be appropriate for a young lady in this new world of ours. I found it behind the township hall, and with Tom’s approval, I cleaned it up and had it readied by Earl Tyler.
*
All of us showed up at the school for the now traditional lunch cupcakes, to help celebrate Emi’s thirteenth birthday. She had grown into a beautiful young lady and had matured way too fast, though that was expected these days. This was a true milestone for the town.
Eric and Rayn “purchased” a leather satchel from Art Collins that was similar to mine, though a bit smaller, as their gift, and Emilee was overjoyed with it. Everyone turned to me, especially an expectant Emi.
“I bet you’re waiting for my gift, aren’t you?” I said to my granddaughter. She solemnly nodded. “We will have to take a walk outside for it.” The entire school poured out the doors behind Emilee when she spotted her very own new, metallic purple, four-wheeler that was parked at the curb. She was speechless. She turned to me with tears in her eyes and wrapped her thin arms around my neck in a fierce hug. Then of course she bolted to the curb to sit on her new ride.
*
“Mom, I’m not sure about this,” Eric said. “Those things can go really fast!”
“Not this one,” I assured him. “I had Earl fit it with a governor. She can’t go more than twenty-five miles per hour. Once she has proven herself on it, he can remove it, but only at your request.”
Eric grinned. “I can deal with that.” He watched his daughter for a moment. “Did we grow up this fast?”
“All children grow up faster than their parents want them to, Eric. You and Jason were no exception.”
JOURNAL ENTRY: July 20
Even with muted and darkened skies, the weather has turned pleasantly warm, and the town has settled into a productive routine. Everyone works their share in Bradley’s Backyard, sometimes even if they have their own garden to tend, which most of them do. In part, I think, it’s something to do, and partly to socialize.
With the lack of instant communication, no one is supposed to venture anywhere alone. Small groups go out fishing, mostly on Lake Meade. When there is a reasonable catch, the excess is turned over to Marsha to dole out during meals.
Tom spends fewer and fewer hours at the office, and since that one altercation, Jim’s security team has little to do except patrol. Occasionally all they do is help someone move or lift something heavy. The security team has a good reputation in town. Often I see people riding the streets with their bicycles, and for a while it was difficult to spot the security guards, until someone came up with the idea of putting a rod with a red, white, and blue mini-flag attached to the back. Now they are easy to find.
With Ken and Karen in the house down the lake, they are now back leisurely patrolling the town too.
Life has taken on a blissfully boring air.
~~~
July 21
It was mostly a peaceful afternoon, with high, dark clouds and a soft breeze. The dim daylight was now a constant companion. The colonel, Tom, Eric, Perky, and myself were in the office discussing the duty schedule, while Emi sat on the ham chatting.
“DAD!” Emi screamed from the other room.
We all ran into the small office that was once the township treasurer’s space and now was home to our communication to the world. Eric reached her first.
“What’s wrong, Emi?” he asked, panic lacing his voice.
She turned to face him, setting down the radio earmuffs. “It’s Mom.”
Eric took the mike reluctantly. “Beth?” Emi reached over and pulled the plug on the muffs so we could all hear.
“Oh, Eric it is so good to hear your voice. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you through military channels but my messages have never gotten through,” Emilee’s mother said. The relief in her voice was obvious.
“How did you find us on the ham?” he asked.
“Dad, I’ve been trying to reach Mom for weeks,” Emi confessed, looking chagrinned. “I finally found a ham operator in northeast Florida that agreed to get a message to her at the District Emergency Operation Center.”
“When the operator told me of Emilee’s regular radio time schedule, I kept trying to get on during that time, but I’m on the move so much it was difficult and I kept missing the window,” Brenda said. “I’m thrilled to finally talk to her. I’ve missed her so much, Eric, but I know she is much better off up there with you than down here. Just knowing she’s safe means everything to me.”
“We’ve been doing as well as could be expected. Life gets hard at times, though we always make it, and it’s relatively safe here,” Eric assured her.
“It would have to be better than here! It’s very dangerous now since we lost the southern half of the state.” There was a long pause on the other end. “Eric, I want to set up a regular time to talk with her, maybe every couple of weeks.”
“Of course, Beth,” Eric answered. After catching up, he turned the seat back over to Emilee and she plugged the muffs back in. As we went back to the other office, I could hear Emi talking to her mother.
“I’ve been doing good in school, Mom, don’t worry. All A’s,” she said with pride. “We only go to school three or four days a week, but we’re in class all year.” There was a pause while she listened. “Sometimes during the winter we can’t get out because of the snow, and dad or Uncle Jason homeschools me and Jacob.” There was another longer pause, and then Emi said, her voice quivering, “I miss you too.”