on a pot holder on the table, and cut into squares. Following that was a big pot of beef stew. While Barb was getting that on the table, Sela and Olivia were doing a sort of dance around the table that resulted in bowls and spoons and napkins being put in place in front of five of the six chairs. Glasses of water were distributed.
It was a simple meal; Carol said a very brief grace over the food, then the bread and stew were passed around so people could get as much as they wanted. Sela had seated herself beside him, and he noticed that she took the smallest portion of any of them, and made a guess that she was doing without to make sure the others had enough to eat.
That couldn’t continue. He’d make sure she had enough to eat.
He didn’t remember the last time he’d had conversation with a meal—likely when he was still in the military. But then, this was the first meal he’d eaten with anyone else since he’d mustered out. When Sela asked, “Did everything go okay with the gas today?” it took a moment for him to realize she was talking to him.
“Okay enough.” Some people had gotten testy about being limited to five gallons until everyone who had been in line had gotten a share, until he’d told the complainers he didn’t mind if they went on home so there’d be more for the others. He’d given the same reply to the ones who had complained about a record being made of how much they got, and that they’d have to reimburse the store once the power came back on and they got back to work. He was big enough that not many people came back at him, plus he’d spent the day with the Mossberg strapped to his back. There was just something about a shotgun.
An added bonus was that the shotgun scabbard had rubbed against the cut on his shoulder, making him more visibly irritable. Sometimes things worked out for the best.
Sela was looking at him as if she expected more in the way of information. “Let’s go get naked” didn’t seem like something she’d want to talk about in front of her relatives and friend, so he settled for a safer subject. “Jim and Mary Alice loved the dog. Mary Alice hadn’t been able to go back into the house, but with the dog there she felt better. She named him Sajack.”
“After Pat Sajack,” Barb said, smiling. “She does love her Wheel of Fortune.”
Ben had never seen the show, but he’d take their word for it.
Olivia gave him a perturbed look. “I can’t believe you gave the dog away.”
“Yeah.” Again, expectant looks that asked for more. “They can give him more attention than I can, and they need a dog there to look after them. I’ll do some extra hunting to keep them all fed.” He glanced at Sela. “Any progress on those braziers? I loaned them one of my kerosene heaters, but that’s a temporary fix because they’ll run out of kerosene.”
“There is.” This time it was Carol who answered. She shifted her leg uncomfortably, but focused on the subject. “Mona Clausen walked over to talk about it, while you were asleep. She does still have the kiln. It’s not a big one, and it’s electric so she’d need a generator and fuel to fire it up. She said the design of a brazier was simple, it’s basically a grill pan, but she could do one medium-size at a time, or two smaller ones at once. How many do you think we’ll need?”
“I have no idea,” Sela said. “Plus people will need charcoal for them.”
“Charcoal can be made, just burn the wood down to that point,” Ben pointed out. “I’ll set up the generator so she can get started. Even one brazier will mean a lot to people who don’t have any heat or any way of cooking.”
God. He’d talked to more people today than he had in the past three years, total. He could feel the discomfort gnawing at him, the need to withdraw to the top of the mountain where there was nothing but trees and earth, wind and sky. That was no longer an option, unless Sela was there with him. The compassion that was a part of her, the care she showed for others, had become something he wouldn’t willingly do without.
“I’m thinking hundreds of braziers,” she admitted, rubbing her eyes as if overwhelmed.