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justice to enact consequences for the breaking of said laws, raise your hand.”
He nodded. “As it’s clearly more than two hundred for, which is the majority, the vote carries for the structure of laws. Eddie, Fred, would you mind passing out the lists so people can read what’s being proposed?”
As they went to hand a stack for each row to pass down, Rove shoved his way forward, snatched a paper from Eddie’s hands, crumpled it, tossed it down.
“Dude, don’t be such a dick.”
Eyes fired up, Rove jerked his arm back, fist balled. He punched it at Eddie’s face, where it rammed two inches away. The fire died to shock, frustration. Then disgust.
“I knew you were one of them.”
“He’s not.” Lana got to her feet. “Not in the way you mean. I blocked your punch, Mr. Rove,” she continued as she walked down. “Because I’m not going to let you bully and physically assault a friend.”
“Aw, Lana, I can handle myself.”
She patted Eddie’s shoulder. “I know it. Go ahead and pass out the stacks.” As Eddie moved on, Lana stepped into his place.
She tapped a finger in the air in front of Rove’s fist. He rolled his shoulder, dropped his arm.
“Would you like to take a swing at me, Mr. Rove?” Without looking around, she held up a hand as Max pushed to his feet. “Or are you going to leave it with insults and bigotry?”
She knew hate when he stood in front of her, and could read through that hate, the humiliation that stained it, just how much he wished to hurt her. And just how much he feared her.
Several more people rose as he stood, his fist still balled at his side and trembling there. Some moved to stand beside her, behind her.
“Go home, Kurt,” Manning advised, and gently drew Lana back. “Go home and cool off.”
Rove turned on his heel, strode toward the back. Of the fourteen who’d raised a hand with him for the nay vote, only nine walked out with him.
“You got balls,” Manning told Lana. “If you don’t mind me saying so.”
“I don’t mind, since I haven’t had them very long.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
For a week, then two, as May blended into June, New Hope built.
A greenhouse, a smokehouse, a picnic area behind the gardens. Twice people wandered in—a group of three, another of five.
With power restored, Chuck combined his brand of magic with Max’s to bring the Internet on line. It was slow and spotty dial-up, supported only a handful of what they’d designated as priority locations, but it added another layer of hope.
Many with missing loved ones lined up daily at the new town library to send e-mails and check religiously for any response.
Even though none came, hope lived.
Though Chuck continued his quest, communication with the outside world remained a void. Arlys might not have been able to surf the Web, but she had the software to publish the Bulletin without hammering at the old Underwood.
And Max wrote.
Jonah quietly moved into Rachel’s bedroom.
The gardens flourished, and if they benefited from a little magickal help, no one complained.
“It feels like we found balance.” Lana sat on her front porch—in a chair painted a cheerful red—and enjoyed sun tea and a sugar cookie from the batch she’d made with her share of supplies.
Arlys sat with her, as she often did at the end of the day.
“It’s like an idyll,” she continued. “And this is from the lifelong city dweller. We’ve got fresh cherries, grapes—”
“Which makes you think yeast.”
“I also think tarts and jams and jellies. We’re already getting some tomatoes, some vegetables, lovely fresh lettuce and greens. Bill hauled two cases of Mason jars and lids to the kitchen. I’m watching corn grow, which is amazing to this lifelong urbanite. Rachel said the baby is perfect—and over a pound now. I swear she feels a lot heavier, then I imagine swallowing a pound of sugar, and see the correlation.”
On a contented sigh, she stroked her belly. “Speaking of yeast, we made and dried some. And thanks to Chuck I don’t have to write recipes out until my hand cramps. Plus, Rove and the Mercers and that pissy Sharon Beamer haven’t caused any trouble since the public meeting.”
“Give them time.”
“Oh, no spoiling my happy mood. There’s Will.” Lana waved a hand, signaling him over. “How are things going there?”
“Going where?”
“With you and Will?” Deliberately Lana wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ve felt some definite vibes.”
“Your vibes are off. We’re just friends, with a shared childhood history.” Arlys took a sip of her wine, watched Will cross the street. “But he is nice to look at.”
“Ladies.”
“We’re out of beer,” Lana told him. “But we’ve got wine.”
“I wouldn’t mind some. We’re just back—hunting party.”
“Don’t tell me I’m going to be making more venison sausage.”
“It’s good stuff.”
“Oh well. I’ll get you a glass.”
“Sit,” Arlys ordered. “I’ll get it. Pound of sugar,” she added as she got up, went inside.
“Pound of sugar?”
Lana tapped her baby mound. “Have a cookie.”
“Wouldn’t mind that, either.” He took one, bit in. Shut his eyes. “Oh man, that’s really good. You could make a living.”
“Those were the days.”
Arlys came out with the glass, poured him one. Will leaned back against the fence post. He glanced back as three deer trotted down Main Street.
“It’s a good thing Fred thought of putting that invisible fence around the gardens,” he commented. “We don’t have to go more than half a mile to bag a deer.”
“Also good we approved the town ordinance against deploying a firearm within town limits,” Arlys added. “Or we’d end up with more windows being shot out by accident.”
“You got that. We’re thinking of invading Rachel’s place tonight for some DVD roulette. Are you in?”
Arlys raised her brows. “Who are ‘we’?”
“Dad and me—and Chuck if we can pull him out of the basement—a few others. They’ve got that big screen and the player. Entry fee’s a snack or beverage.”
“I could be in,” Arlys said, smiling at him. He really was nice to look at, she thought as Lana got up and walked to the other side of the steps. “What about you, Lana? An evening of DVD roulette sound appealing?”
“Something’s coming. It all changes. Something’s coming. It always was. Something’s coming. It ends. It begins.”
Will stepped toward her, then rushed to her as she swayed.
“Hey, hey, hey.” He shoved his glass at Arlys and steadied Lana.
“I’m all right. Just got dizzy.”
“I’ll get Rachel. I’ll find Max.”
“No, no, I just got dizzy. I’m fine.”
“I’m getting Rachel,” Arlys insisted, and bolted across the street.
“Here.” Will carried her to the chair, set her down. “What’s this?”
“Ah, sun tea.”
“Okay, that’s probably good. Drink a little. You really went pale. What’s coming?”
“I don’t know.” She laid a hand on the baby. “It was just this feeling of inevitability. And sorrow. I practice, but not as much as I should. I don’t know how to control or interpret as much as I should.”
Rachel, in a T-shirt and cargo shorts, crossed the street at a fast clip. “What’s all this?”
“I just had a moment,” Lana said as Rachel took her pulse. “It came and went. I feel fine.”
“Your pulse is rapid.”
“It scared me. It was one of the feelings I get. They just cover me. I don’t know how to explain. They pour out of me and saturate me. It’s not physical. Not in the usual way.”
“I’ll find Max.”
“Oh, don’t.” As he stepped back, Lana
pleaded with Will. “Don’t worry him. I’m fine.”
“He’d kick my ass—and I’d have to help him do it—if I didn’t go get him.”
“All right, all right. I can’t be responsible for you and Max both kicking your ass. Rachel, really, you just examined me and the baby this morning. I know what it was—it’s not medical, and it passed.”
