“We can save these for lunch,” Aunt Beth said with a meaningful glance at Harriet. She claimed the plate and carried it to the kitchen.
“Well, she’s no fun,” Tom said when Beth was out of the room. “I guess you do have plenty of food, though.”
“You want to stay for breakfast?” Harriet asked. “I’m sure the neighborhood can survive without your sugary goodness for a few minutes.”
“Thanks, but I’m going to try to make it to the homeless camp. During normal weather, Mr. and Mrs. R volunteer delivering meals to those folks. Mr. R was going to try to take them food this morning, and ten or fifteen years ago that would have been a good idea. I’m pretty sure eighty years are in his rearview mirror, so I’m thinking him and the Quad are not a good combo. Since Mrs. R had to dig the keys out of a bag of sugar in the pantry, I think she agrees.”
“Did we just steal the homeless people’s cookies?” Lauren asked.
“No, she really did bake a bunch, and she did send that plateful for you all. I just came by to see if Harriet wanted to go to the homeless camp with me.” He looked at Lauren. “Sorry, the Quad only holds one passenger.”
“Like that would matter.” Lauren took a bite of her omelet. “Hey, there’s no sense in letting the food get cold,” she added when Mavis looked at her.
“I’d love to get out of here,” Harriet said with glance at her.
“What’s everyone looking at me for?” she protested.
“Let me get my coat and hat,” Harriet said.
“I hope you have helmets for that thing.” Aunt Beth said as she returned from the kitchen.
The Quad turned out to be some strange combination of a golf cart and a motorcycle.
“They’re called MUVs-multi-utility vehicles,” Tom explained. “It’s an offshoot of an all-terrain vehicle.”
The small vehicle bore some resemblance to a miniature Jeep; it had a bench seat big enough for two people in the front and a small cargo bed behind. Tom assured her it could hold a thousand pounds of cargo and was currently filled with cases of canned food and bottled water destined for the homeless camp.
“Is that gas strapped to the back?” Harriet asked, noting two square red plastic cans behind the flats of food and water.
“Yeah, Mr. R said the last time the power went out for an extended period, everything ground to a halt due to an inability to pump gas. He said the town has generators in place and a supply of gas to run them, but he thinks they’re reserving that capability for emergency vehicles.”
“Seems like they would have planned for that a long time ago,” Harriet said.
“You would think that, but I guess not. Or maybe they haven’t had storms of this magnitude since people became so dependent on fossil fuels. I’m sure there was a time when they saddled up the family horse after a storm if they wanted to check on things.”
“I guess so. Do we really have to wear helmets?” she asked when Tom handed her a red motorcycle one, donning a black one himself.
“This thing looks like a small car of sorts, but it really is closer to a motorcycle, and we are going to be going off-road, so, yes, we do need the helmets. Besides, I’m not crossing your aunt if I don’t have to.”
He helped her climb into the passenger side of the vehicle and strapped her seatbelt across her lap, returning to the driver’s side and repeating the process.
“I’m worried about those people at the homeless camp,” he said, a serious note in his voice.
“They should be okay if they went into the restroom. It’s floor-to-ceiling cement.”
“Some of them probably did, but I’m guessing the young drug addict didn’t, and if she didn’t, the older woman probably didn’t, either. And neither of those two older guys looked like rugged outdoorsmen.”
“You’re right. Joyce seemed a little more skilled at camping.”
“Camping is one thing, but I’ll bet it’s going to turn out we had eighty- or ninety-mile-an-hour winds.”
Tom started the MUV, backing it up then turning to go down the side of Harriet’s driveway that was free of larger tree limbs. They started downhill, and Harriet glanced back past her house to the forest at the end of her street. As they turned onto the pavement, she caught sight of Aiden’s tall slender form emerging from the trees.
Chapter 10
The trip to Fogg Park and the homeless camp behind it would have taken no more than fifteen minutes under normal conditions. This time it took just over two and a half hours.
“At least it will be quicker on the way home,” Tom said as he got back into the driver’s seat after they had stopped for the umpteenth time to drag a large tree limb to the side of the road. The entrance to the park was visible in the distance.
“I’m just glad we didn’t have to saw that one,” Harriet replied. “My arms are getting tired.”
“I’m glad Mr. R had the foresight to pack that little chainsaw in the cargo box.”
Tom reached over and gently wiped her cheek with his thumb. She started to reach up to stop him, but he halted her hand.
“I’m not putting the moves on you. You’ve got mud on your cheek.”
“Oh, of course. Sorry.” She ducked her head to hide her embarrassment.
“Would it be that bad if I was touching your cheek for other reasons?” he asked softly and cupped her face in his hand, tilting it up until she couldn’t avoid looking at him.
He leaned in until their lips were nearly touching. Harriet closed her eyes, but Tom pulled back.
“I promised myself I wouldn’t pressure you, and I won’t-but you are so beautiful,” he said with a sigh. “It’s taking every bit of restraint I posses.” He turned away from her and steered their vehicle back onto the road.
Beautiful? she thought. Covered in mud and sweaty from the hard work, and he thought she was beautiful. She tried to remember the last time Aiden had called her beautiful-or even anything.
“Oh, thank heaven you’ve come,” Joyce said as she rushed to Harriet before she could even untangle herself from the MUV’s seatbelt and get out. Tom had just pulled into the parking space closest to the restroom building.
“What’s wrong?” Harriet asked. She put her arm around the older woman to steady her.
“It’s just awful,” Joyce said as tears began streaming down her deathly white face.
“Here, sit down.” Harriet eased her into the seat she’d just vacated. Tom opened a bottle of water and handed it to her without saying anything. Joyce took a small sip, paused then took a longer drink.
“Can you tell us what's upset you?” Harriet asked in a calm voice. She put her hand on Joyce’s shoulder.
“Dead,” she stammered. She looked from Harriet to Tom and back to Harriet again. “Dead,” she repeated.
“Joyce,” Harriet said. “Look at me.” Joyce complied. “Who is dead?”
Joyce started to cry again but then stopped and took a deep breath.
“Duane,” she said. “Duane Cunningham.”
“Where is he?” Tom asked.
Joyce pointed to the building. Tom and Harriet both looked just in time to see Ronald stagger out of the men’s side and lean up against the outside wall, his red Gore-Tex jacket a stark contrast to the pitted gray cement. Tom sprinted to his side and eased him into a sitting position, loosening his jacket and then his shirt collar as he did so.
Harriet joined Tom, quickly followed by Joyce.
“Ronald, what is it?” Joyce asked. Ronald’s face was pale and clammy and his breath rapid.
“Medicine,” Ronald croaked.
Harriet immediately started patting his pockets, finding an amber plastic pill bottle in his right pants pocket on her third try. She glanced at the label then popped the cap and shook out a small white pill. She pressed it to Ronald’s lips, and he quickly sucked the pill into his mouth and under his tongue. Slowly, the color returned to his face, and his breathing became slow and regular.