It’s been eight days and I’m still sweeping up glass.  Thankfully the glass door-wall was not one of the casualties, but the dining room window was, and now we are lacking natural light.  The other window was in the hall, and dark there anyway.  Someday I hope we can replace the glass.  Jason and John scavenged some plywood from the barn to cover the outside to the weather, and there was enough of the roll of metallic insulation to piece together a covering for the inside to keep out the drafts and cold.  It’s still only February, and March is and always has been our heaviest snow-fall month.  I have a deep foreboding feeling about this March.

Over the past several days, we’ve had another two feet of purifying snow; it’s cleaned up the mess on the road, and the ATV’s that were left by the wayside are now mounds and formless humps and have taken on shapes Jacob thinks look like giant turtles.  At some point I’m sure the dealership will be out to reclaim them.  Meanwhile, to me, they are just a reminder of some horrible times.

We buried Tom and his wife in one grave in the Moose Creek cemetery.   I would rather have buried them in one of her flower beds, but because of the deep frost line there is no digging in February here, and Petey already had several graves pre-dug.  Immediately after the burial, Jason went into Tom’s house to secure it.  I knew why he waited:  he loved his uncle and it would have been impossible for him to be there with them still in the middle of the kitchen.  He got the Soapstone wood stove fired up for heat, and then he drained all the pipes of water.  Tom always kept a couple gallons of RV anti-freeze which Jason found in the basement, after a great deal of searching; Tom wasn’t always the most organized person.  With the pipes drained and the traps full of a/f, Jason stoked up the fire, and dampened it down for a slow burn.

Jason is now considering moving him and Jacob into Tom’s house.  There is a two year supply of wood for the wood stove, so they would have heat, and one of the freezers is still full, partly with jugs of ice that have been frozen outside.  Tom had done an excellent job at keeping that freezer intact.  Of what canned goods were left, Tom had brought them out of the basement and lined the bookshelves to keep them from freezing; pork & beans, soups and pasta sauces now took the place of the encyclopedia, novels and cookbooks.  When I asked Jason why he wanted to move, he said it might be better if John and I had more privacy.  They would still come over for dinner though, and I would bake for them.  John grumbled about taking on Jason’s chores, but Jason just laughed.  I’m still not sure the move is a good idea.

On the bright side, we were delightfully surprised yesterday by the arrival of another GFS truck at the township hall.  When I questioned the driver, he looked at the paperwork and pointed out that our shipment was classified as recurring.  Recurring, as in every month we would be getting food now!  The relief just flooded thru me, as we quickly refilled our near empty tables with fresh supplies.  I made a quick call to Don White to thank him.

“Deb! Good to hear from you.” With what he’s done for our town, I will forever forgive him for calling me Deb. “I have to tell you, your little town has caused quite a stir here,” he laughed and sounded as if he was boasting.

“Oh?  Why? For defending ourselves?”  I know I might have sounded a little snarky, but I was still hurt that Bill Lacey had hung us out to dry.

“Well, honestly?  Yes. The Sheriff’s office is taking a lot of flak for not stopping that crew before they headed your way. But you did what needed to be done and without hesitation.   The word on the street is that the locals here have new respect for the people of Moose Creek.  You might even get a float in this year’s Fourth of July parade.”  I could just see him grinning at the thought.

“We’ll see when July rolls around, Don.” I can’t even think that far ahead; there will always be a July 4^th, but will it ever be the same?  “The reason I called, though, was to thank you for the recurring GFS delivery.  That means a great deal to me, and it means survival for Moose Creek.”

“Are you sure you won’t…”

“No, my place is here, Don, you of all people should understand that now,” I cut him off before he offered me a job again.  Be that as it may, I was feeling buoyant, and my melancholy mood was quickly improving.

I don’t know how John remembered, but he surprised me this morning by wishing me a Happy Valentine’s Day, and presenting me with a handmade card; then he made me potato pancakes for breakfast, one of the few things he says he does well.  They were indeed excellent.  I know I’ve not been very good company for him this past week.  With all that’s happened, the shootings, the deaths, the short funeral and burial, I’ve felt in a daze, numb.  He’s been so very sweet and patient with me; perhaps I can make it up to him later… tonight.