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“Sure, we don’t find too
many who deliberately walk this way,” Declan said to him. His teeth
showed bone white in the night, reminding Brian of the man’s gypsy
heritage. Gypsies—if there wasn’t too much inbreeding—were a wily,
canny lot. Excellent allies and, having no real code of honor to
prevent them from fighting dirty, formidable enemies,

“Well, as I said, I’m looking for a better
life for my family.”

“And they’re safe enough while you’re off
looking for this better life?”

Brian turned to Mike. The camp leader
clearly didn’t trust newcomers of any kind. Likely, they’d had some
experiences in the past to warrant that kind of suspicion. These
days you were crazy not to be suspicious of strangers.

“My father and brothers are looking out for
my wife in Dublin. My father-in-law has some health issues so it
really fell to me to go out and find a better way of life for us
all.”

“Is your wife a delicate
sort, Mr. Gilhooley?” Fiona asked, looping her arm around her new
husband’s in a comfortable, proprietary way that showcased her
newlywed status.

“I suppose you could say
that. Although even eighteen months into this new world of ours,
there are many who haven’t survived at all. My Katie may not look
hardy, but I know she has a strength deep down that will
prevail.”

“Prevailing out here in
the hinterlands is a far cry from prevailing in the city,” Mike
said. “It’s a hard life with hard work that needs doing every
day.”

“Even so, staying in the city isn’t an
option.”

“We heard there was disease in Dublin.”

Brian nodded. “And getting worse all the
time. At first, I thought the laws would be reinstated. That some
kind of government would resurface.”

“But it hasn’t?”

“No. And the longer the city goes without
leadership, the worse the problems will be to overcome. Already
there are gangs who rule neighborhoods through coercion and
murder.”

“So have you come south to
find a new town or to start a new town?” Mike asked.

Brian met his gaze directly. “Whichever
happens first, I reckon.” He looked around at the shadowed outlines
of the huts and cottages lining the perimeter of the camp. “I would
be grateful if you would allow me to stay among you so that I could
see how things are here. If you were amenable to accepting a new
family into your midst, I’d be interested in knowing what that
process is. And if you’re not…” He shrugged. “It would be valuable
for me to see what works in the creation of your community.” He
looked at Mike. “And what doesn’t.”

“For building your own community.”

“Exactly.”

“Well,” Sarah said, “I’d
have to say one of the things that works at Donovan’s Lot is how
everyone helps everyone else. It’s not a matter of ten families and
a few couples living separate lives here. There’s a strong sense of
community.”

Brian couldn’t help but notice how pointedly
Sarah delivered her statement, not to him, but to the gypsy’s
bride, Fiona. Obviously, the two women were feuding about
something.

“Aye,” Mike Donovan said. “But for all that,
what works best for us is a central autocratic leadership.” His
eyes glittered meaningfully at Brian.

“By autocratic,” Brian said frowning, “you
mean no community voting over central issues.”

“Aye, that’s right.”

“Well, sometimes it’s a matter of a decision
needing to be made and I understand that,” Brian said. “If nobody
will step forward, you need a strong leader to make things happen.
Is that what you have? A community that can’t think for
itself?”

“Nobody said that,” Mike growled.

“It’s what
you
said,” Brian
said.

“It kind of is, Mike,” Declan said quietly.
“Like we’re your kids or something or maybe just too feckin’ stupid
to know what’s best for us.”

“Is that what you think?”
Mike said to him, his eyes widening, his mouth pressed together in
a firm line.

“It is,” Declan said. He gave Fiona a
squeeze. “It’s what we both think. Hell, it’s what half the camp
thinks.”

“Well, if you want to know
what I think,” Mike said standing up abruptly, his temper building
inside him until he could no longer sit still, “I think I’m bloody
exhausted from having to do everything and think of everything and
I’m going to bloody bed. I’ll see you all in the
morning.”

“Aw, come on, Mike, don’t be that way,”
Declan said, but he didn’t stand up.

Mike knew he sounded
petulant and he hated that, especially in front of the stranger—and
Sarah—but the truth was he
was
tired. The day had been long and nonproductive
with surprises he could’ve done without.

Maybe the bastards needed
to run things without me for a while. Maybe then they’d seen how
well their bloody voting on central issues shite worked.

4

Mike pulled back the husks. The kernels were
plump and firm, a sure sign that the corn was ready to harvest. He
blinked into the morning sun. They could start on the corn this
week and leave the cabbage and the potatoes for next week, then
finish up the kale and the wheat the following week. He shrugged
and tucked the corncob in the pocket of his vest.

His second real harvest at Donovan’s Lot. The
first one hadn’t been miserable, but had fallen short of actually
supplying the camp with enough food for the winter. If it hadn’t
been for reserve supplies in abandoned root cellars, it would have
been worse than it was.

Except for a simple garden plot Ellen had
tended when they were first married, he had no real experience with
growing food before last summer. Moving away from the coast—and
fishing—was the one and only concession he’d made when he created
Donovan’s Lot. Everyone else knew next to nothing about farming or
fishing. At the time it seemed the learning curve on an inland
homesteading experience was the least daunting.

“Well, Da? Are they ready?” Gavin nodded at
the rows and rows of tall green corn.

“They are. Tell the others. We’ll pick this
field this week and start on the south field when we’re done.”

“Starting today?”

“Yes. Tell the others to stop what they’re
doing.”

Gavin was trotting away toward the camp
before Mike even finished his statement.

Why do all the young run everywhere? They’re
always in such a hurry.

Turning back toward camp, Mike saw Sarah
coming toward him. He should have expected this. It had only been a
few days since she’d announced she was leaving—a few days when a
lot else had happened in the interim, not to mention that bogger,
Gilhooley, taking up residence practically in the middle of the
camp. But he hadn’t had much time to talk to Sarah—or rather he had
but preferred not to—and he should have expected she wouldn’t put
up with that for long.

So American
, he thought, as he watched
her stride purposely toward him. He could almost hear her voice in
his head:
What are you thinking, Mike? Are you feeling okay,
Mike? Is it something you’d like to talk about, Mike?

Bloody woman
. Yet the sight of her
growing ever nearer filled his heart with an aching sense of peace,
too. Like a feeling of a magnet drawing its metal shavings to
itself. The innately right feeling of two things that belong
together being brought back together.

Such fecking rubbish.

“Mike? Do you have a minute?”

It was daft to think he could avoid her until
the moment she climbed on that military transport copter. He
arranged his face into a smile.

“Sarah.” Her face was flushed with color, her
breath coming in pants from the exertion of the hike. Except for
her daily ride on old Dan, she didn’t usually venture too far from
the comfort of her cottage and the camp.

Especially not after her last outing, which
left her husband dead and her forever changed.

“We need to talk about my leaving.”

“What would you have me say?”

“Fiona won’t even talk to me and you’ve been
avoiding me.”

Well, it was true.
He sighed and ran a
hand through his hair. “I guess it’s just hard to say goodbye.”

“Don’t you think this is hard for me, too?
It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Do you think I
want
to leave?”

“You know, Sarah, I don’t think I can stand
here and listen to outright bullshite. Because if you’re going to
bang on that same drum that says you’re just doing this for John’s
sake—”

“I
am
just doing this for John’s
sake!”

“Well, that’s just a little difficult for
those of us left behind to fully believe, ya see.”

“
You
wouldn’t leave if you could?” She
stood in front of him now, her hands on her hips. Her jeans were
snug and fit her in all the right places. Mike looked away from
her. Thinking like that wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

“Seeing as how this is my home and all I’ve
ever known, I’d have to say, no.”

“But it’s not
my
home.”

“That has been made abundantly clear to
me.”

“Oh, stop! Really? I’m really going to be the
bad guy in all this? All because I want to go home to my own
country?”

“What did you need to say to me? Because I
think I’ve heard all this before. You’re going. And you don’t want
anyone to be unhappy about that fact. I guess we should all just
work to love you less.”

That stopped her. He watched her face crumble
into the threat of tears.

“Now, now, Sarah…” He put his hand out to her
and she came easily into his arms. It hadn’t been his intention to
touch her. Nothing good could come of that, but touching her he
was. He brought his other arm around and held her close.

Was it only guilt and the thought of missing
him that brought her to him like this? He couldn’t help enjoying
the feel of her in his arms. A piece inside of him relented and he
felt his shoulders let go of the tension he’d held ever since she
said she would go.

Hadn’t he always known she would go?

“I’m so sorry, Mike,” she said, her voice
muffled against his chest. “It’s killing me. You have to know
that.”

“Aye,” he said softly. “I know it.”

He tilted her chin to look into her eyes and
saw her fighting a battle with herself. Likely it was the urge to
tell him, again, that it was all for John. That if it were just up
to her, she’d stay…although she’d never even hinted that
that
was the case. Wisely, she held her tongue.

“Walk with me back to camp,” he said. “We’re
ready to start the harvest on the corn and the extra hands of you
and the kids will be a big help.” He knew she needed to hear it,
regardless of how essentially untrue it was.

Back at camp, they parted, but not before
she’d made him promise to come to dinner after the day’s work in
the field. The families of the camp, alerted by Gavin, were milling
about the center of camp, waiting for Mike to give them
instructions on the corn harvest.

“Right,” Mike said stepping up to the
elevation of the decking in front of his hut. “It’s time and the
good Lord has blessed us with enough rain—but not too much—so it
looks like we have a decent corn crop this summer after all. I’ll
be asking the Sullivan family and the Dohertys to start at the
southeast corner of the field, and the Mulligans and the
Kilpatricks to pick at the northwest corner and work toward the
middle. Everyone else will follow me. Now, remember there’ll be
pickers, pruners, and them to cart the harvest back to camp.”

He turned to Fiona, who was standing on her
front porch, her hands on her hips, listening. “Fiona will
coordinate the processing and storing of the corn once it’s
transported back to camp.”

Fiona nodded, a faint smile on her lips.

“Sarah, Jenny, Maggie and Lyndie will all
help Fiona. Every child over twelve is in the field picking. Under
twelve will be minded by Papin and Daisy.” He turned to the two
girls. “Mind everyone gets their kiddies back in one piece at the
end of the day, eh?” They grinned and nodded.

“That’s it. We’ll do the corn this week and
the potatoes and cabbage next and finish up with the kale, the
wheat and the beets the final week.”

“What about the
Lughnasa
?” someone called
out.

“We’ll have the feast the
Sunday after the last cabbage or beet is picked, packed and stored
for the winter. Any other questions?”

Brian Gilhooley raised a
hand. “Where would you like me?”

Mike forced himself not to
wince.
Would Dublin be too far?

“If you could work alongside the
Kilpatricks,” he said, nodding to the family of eight already
moving into the fields, “that would be a big help, so it would,” he
said.

His eyes followed Sarah,
who was walking over to Fiona on her porch.

***

She could see Fi was a
little calmer since the last time they talked. It had been two
days. Two long days where Sarah missed her best friend dearly. Two
days of no gossip, no laughter, no advice on the children, the
weather, her brother or life in general.

Sarah wondered what in the
world Fiona could find to miss about
her
company. She looked up at her.
“Well?” she said. “I’m here for my orders.”

“Oy! That’s what I say
every morning,” Declan said, materializing from behind his wife and
putting both hands on her waist. He leaned in to kiss her on the
neck and Sarah blessed him when she saw Fiona smile.

It wasn’t in her direction, but it was a
start.