Harvesting Ashwood Minnesota 2037 (14 page)

Phoebe frowned at the knife image. “You’re sure Dad wants this boy to live here?”

“Yes, Dad and Grandpa want him to live with us.” I ran my fingers over her curls, wondering why she had not shared her knowledge of Andrew with her brothers. “His aunt’s apartment isn’t in the gang areas of the cities and if he carries a knife, we’ll take it away. That’s an estate rule no one breaks.” Noah and John appeared to lose interest in talking about Andrew. “He’s a boy who needs family.”

“Do you love him?” asked Phoebe.

“I haven’t seen him since he was born, sweetie, but he is my son.” I gave her a quick squeeze, removed a curly hair from my hand. “He is my son and I’m excited about getting to know him.”

Her beautiful green eyes moved quickly across my face. Was she worried about Andrew taking some part of the love and attention now given to her and her brothers? I moved on to the second subject. 

“So the three of you understand what a surrogate is? Phoebe nodded right away. John and Noah looked at each other. I recognized their discomfort and shrinking attention to this discussion. “A surrogate is a woman who carries a couple’s baby in her womb before it’s born. After the baby’s born, the parents take it home. Phoebe and Noah were carried by surrogates. Right?”

Three children stared at me.

“There was a mistake made by the government agency that watches over the surrogate program. Some babies were carried by surrogates and put into people’s homes who actually have different parents.” Noah looked at his hand. John’s forehead wrinkled. “Some of those children are the brothers and sisters of Noah and Phoebe.”

“Are they all coming to live here, too?” John sought clarification in a polite voice. “How many kids will have to share a bedroom and desk?”

“Do they look like us and will you love them like us?”

I told myself that Phoebe’s question could have been asked by any child before answering. “I don’t know what they look like or where they live. I only know that they are alive.” She nuzzled into my side with her head down so I couldn’t read her emotions. “It’s such a strange situation that I don’t know how to say anything more. But the news media have a story that will be broadcast soon, so I wanted you to know this before you hear it from someone else.”

Noah shrugged. “I don’t think I understand? I think it’s something big people should worry about.” He looked at John. “We don’t have space in our bedroom for more than Andrew.”

“When Dad comes home, he’ll know what to do,” Phoebe added, then she moved away and picked up a book. The conversation closed. To lighten the mood, I suggested playing a game. Phoebe lost interest after a few minutes, picked up her book, and left.

The boys turned our game into a two-person match. I thought I was watching their play, but my eyes closed. Paul’s gentle tapping on my shoulder woke me from my unexpected nap as the dinner music sounded. The boys were gone.

“Maybe you should let Sarah and me take Phoebe watch tonight? Don’t know if anyone here has ever seen you sleep while the sun was still shining.” He didn’t smile. We’d been through a horrific day and there could be more of the same. “How did the kids respond?”

“I think Phoebe needs to know I’ll still be here for her so I better pass on your offer. Thanks anyway.” My eyes felt gritty, my brain not ready to kick into normal operation. “I don’t know that the boys really understood the surrogate story. We’ll see how they process everything.”

“General Manager Hartford.”

“Excuse me, Paul.” I pointed to my earpiece. “I’ll join you in the dining room.” He walked away. I activated the call. “Yes?”

“This is Lars Peterson. Do you have a minute?”

“Is there information about David?”

“There is information about the ambush.”

I could hear faint noise behind his voice, tried to place where he was. “Yes?”

“We can meet with you in the DOE offices in approximately twenty minutes.”

Images of military officers in full dress uniform ringing the home doorbells at dead armed forces members’ homes entered my thoughts and stuck. As a scientist and an intellectual, David carried officer classification in the civilian military division. The oxymoron of civilian military played in the popular media. In this society where government bundled everything in an elaborate interwoven hierarchy, I never gave a second thought to this minor title on David’s large human capital file. I pushed away the dead soldiers thoughts, sure that, like John, I would know if David was not in our world.

“I’d like my father-in-law to join us.” Like Sarah’s earlier this afternoon, my eyes were attracted to the window without the slightest ability to focus on anything. I stood. “He’s just sitting down for dinner, but we can be there in twenty minutes.”

Peterson hesitated. “I don’t think it is necessary to involve Mr. Regan.”

“If it is bad news, tell me now.” I managed to sound in control. “It’s cruel to make me wait twenty minutes not knowing what’s happening to David.”

“Bring someone, if you please.” I recognized the sound of a displeased bureaucrat. “And have your kitchen set up dinner for seven staff in the DOE building.” The call ended.

His command to provide food, a precious commodity, marked pulling rank. Peterson could make the same demand anywhere and be accommodated. Concerned about Peterson’s news, I walked to the kitchen.

Bowls and platters covered every surface as dinner service began. Workers moved about under Amber’s supervision.

“Ms. Anne, is everything okay?” Her tone hinted that I looked unusual.

“Thanks, Amber. I hear you’re doing a great job helping with the transition here. Where’s Cook?”

She pointed to the kitchen’s deep cooler. “Checking breakfast supplies.”

In the cooler I stood with my back to the door, called his name.

“Good God, Anne, you surprised me.” Terrell held blueberries in one hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we talk in here?”

“Better we go to my office.”

“I remember when the cooler was the safe place to talk.”

Taking my elbow, he led us out of the cooler, bumped its door closed with his backside and handed the berries to a worker.

“Take a few breaths as we walk,” he said so others wouldn’t hear. “Do you need a drink? I’ve got hard stuff and cold water in my office.”

“Water.”

He closed the office door. I stayed on my feet.

“The DOE representative who was here with Milan this morning just called. He’s coming with information about David.” A quiver cut my words short. “And wants dinner for seven served in the DOE offices.”

“And?”

“I asked him to tell me what he knew. He wouldn’t answer.”

My old friend’s thick, strong cook’s arms surrounded me. I leaned my head on his shoulder, felt his support. “You’re already thinking the worst, Anne. There’s lots of room between what we know and where you’re thinking.”

“I believe David’s alive, but I need to hear that.” The second half of my sentence turned into a plea instead of a statement. “Why is Peterson adding people? He must have some motive beyond cordoning us off from the media?”

He rubbed my back, not a gentle comforting gesture but a quick motion as if to invigorate an athlete preparing for competition. “In all my years working for the DOE, I learned never to guess what might be coming next. They are a bunch of wolves who tend to see the world divided into those who belong in the den and those who pose danger. Just got to stay in the right pack with those folks.”

“Could you and I carry their dinner over to the offices, and then you stay for the meeting? Peterson knows I’m bringing Paul.”

Turning away from me, Terrell opened a desk drawer and picked out a pen. He dismantled it as he spoke.

“Listen to me, Anne. The DOE doesn’t like extra visitors in their meetings. Let Paul eat his dinner.” Terrell slipped a thin, clear sliver from the pen’s interior. He bent toward me. “Without David around, the DOE could get aggressive. It’s important that you keep your stature when dealing with these guys. Show your strength.” I let him slip a hand deep into the back of my summer-weight shirt. I trusted this man, knew whatever he was doing was for my safety. “They’ll see Paul as a protector. You don’t want that.”

He patted the back of my bra with a gentling hand. “You are a highly successful, and visible, civilian businesswoman. Just treat them like an important client.” He straightened. “You’ve got them over a barrel ’cause David isn’t about to leave Ashwood for some other estate like a regular DOE director might be forced to do if the agency didn’t like the managing matron.”

I understood that he and Lao would monitor the meeting through the small device now enmeshed in my clothing.

“Want some water?” Twisting around me, he filled a glass.

“Thank you.” He motioned for me to take a sip. I obeyed. “I don’t want to be the one to carry all the bad news to Paul and Sarah.”

“You shouldn’t assume all is bad, Anne.” He motioned for me to drink more. “You’ve managed this place through plenty of storms. That’s why people, including your father-in-law, call you strong.” Like a breeze in the midst of a still hot day, Terrell’s voice brought me back to the moment. “Deal with this Peterson. Listen to what he has to say. And, as hard as this might be for you, I’d suggest you keep your own counsel around your pal Milan right now.”

“Why do you say that, Terrell?” I finished the water, let him take the glass from my hand. “Do you know something?”

“Remember I played that dual employee role for a lot of years—cook for the Bureau and personal observer for the DOE. Never stood in the way of you and me having a good working relationship, but the higher up the castle wall a person climbs, the trickier it is to please two powers.” Terrell checked the time. “Your friend is about as high on the ladder at the DOE as he can be with his other foot in the Bureau. He likes you as a person or he wouldn’t be so available for matters far below his station.”

“He wants what’s best for the kids. That’s what a guardian does.”

“Just listen to Mr. Peterson and think what you want showing up in official files before you speak. This isn’t a normal time, Anne.” I knew by the way Terrell pulled at one ear that he was deadly serious.

I made my way to the DOE offices alone, walking outdoors. Dark clouds gathered in the sky, the first hint of rain in almost two weeks. Barn cats wandered across the yard, cows mooed in the closer field. David often stood in the yard after returning from his travels to breathe the air, a country man deep within. I tried to gather a deep breath for him, wished I could send it across continents to offer comfort.

An unfamiliar DOE guard and I moved through intricate lockdown security procedures. Inside, overcooled air raised goose bumps on my bare arms. I found a sweater in my office, made a cup of tea, and busied myself. The estate daily report looked stronger than I expected. In regular times, I would look across to David’s office, and if the door stood open, I would tell him the good news. Tonight David’s locked door felt like a bad omen, a barrier no amount of wishing or praying or positive thinking could cross. I tried to hold on to Terrell’s pep talk as I buried myself in a backlog of mail.

That’s how Peterson and Milan found me. They said nothing as they sat in the chairs in front of my desk. I thought of standing, moving us to the table, but I read by where they chose to sit that nothing really awful had happened and stayed still in my chair.

“Director Peterson, you didn’t mention that Executive Milan would be accompanying you.” I used the language of bureaucracy. Rank no longer intimidated me. “Who else are we feeding?”

Neither man responded. The atmosphere felt heavy as if a storm waited to break.

“Milan, I don’t know if you heard that we have been able to attract Terrell back to manage all our on-estate food matters.” I read in his eyes that this was news to him, perhaps distracting him from what was about to happen. “He will be supervising delivery of a light dinner for your crew any time, Mr. Peterson.”

Bureaucratic gamesmanship crept into the meeting as I said, “I haven’t asked him if he still has DOE staff clearance, but at least your guards won’t have to create a totally new file for him.” Peterson’s left eyebrow barely moved upward as I displayed this bit of inside knowledge, and I knew I had stepped back into command from the state of shell-shocked wife.

“Anne, we have news from Paraguay and business to discuss.” Milan spoke, Peterson watched. “If Ashwood has space, the DOE needs beds to station a handful of staff here for the duration. If not, they’ll set up beds in the lower conference room.”

“I could put two in the residence guest room and scatter the rest around our staff sleeping quarters.”

“We prefer they be together in the residence.” Peterson came close to demanding.

“Can’t do it without disrupting rooms of workers.” My voice remained calm. “I would think you’d want them within your secured quarters.”

“We’ll set up in the lower level. I believe there are full bathrooms off the lab space.” Peterson settled back, looking as if this small decision made him winner of our first round.

“Are you going to trust our food or will this be one of those times when DOE provides its own?”

“Why would we be concerned about safety of food for a group of public information specialists?” Peterson flushed, realized he’d put cards on the table before the dealer called the game.