for, she thought as she climbed the stairs: with the power out, she’d have to wash her hair early enough in the day that it could dry. She’d seen movies and read books where the female character sat by a fire drying her hair, and never thought the practice anything more than romantic or picturesque. Suddenly she had a very different take on the situation. Every mundane thing would become more difficult, require more planning.
Like Olivia, she rushed through the showering process; she wanted to linger, to savor, knowing this might be the last hot shower she’d have in a long time, but this wasn’t a time for lingering. When she was dressed again she took the blow-dryer downstairs with her, to clear the way for the next one to shower.
By the time everyone had taken their turn in the bathroom and the kitchen was cleaned up, time was getting close, and they didn’t want to push their chances on destroying any of the kitchen appliances. The pressure cooker had finished with the peas, and the jars were sitting on the kitchen counter, cooling. The four of them ceremoniously unplugged everything except the little TV, which Carol had said she would sacrifice because it was old anyway and when the power came back on she’d get a new little flat screen for the kitchen.
“What do we do now?” Olivia asked, her eyes big.
Sela shrugged. “Wait.” She hugged Olivia—all of them seemed to be doing that, reassuring the kid as much as possible—then took a seat at the table where she could see the TV. One by one, the others did the same. Olivia squeezed in between Carol and Sela, as if she felt safer there.
There was a scroll at the bottom of the screen that held their attention. Several communities had done what Wears Valley residents had and set up meeting places for this afternoon or tomorrow morning. Anyone in the area who hadn’t been contacted might see the information on TV, if they still had access and if they were watching. At least three Knoxville radio stations had plans of their own. They’d scheduled ongoing updates at prearranged hours, though they also warned that for the first few days after the CME radio signals would be disrupted, so listeners shouldn’t be alarmed if they had no reception.
Shouldn’t be alarmed. Ha.
“Radio,” Olivia said in disbelief. “No one listens to radio.”
“Sure they do,” Barb countered. “And a lot more will now.”
Sela’s text alert sounded and they all jumped. She looked at the screen and said with relief, “It’s Kristina.” She’d texted her closest friends, Amy and Kristina, the night before. Amy had responded within an hour, assuring Sela that she was as prepared as she was going to get. She, her husband, Trace, and their two kids—both under five years old—had been visiting his parents when the alarm had gone out. Trace’s folks lived on a farm a couple of hours away, and they had decided to stay there. Not only was the farm set up for a long period of self-sufficiency, Trace’s parents were in their sixties and could use the help.
But she hadn’t heard from Kristina, and she’d worried. Kristina lived in Gatlinburg, close enough that Sela could have gone there if she hadn’t been so busy with all the food preparation. Kristina traveled a lot with her job, though, and when she thought about it Sela realized they hadn’t been in contact for a week or so.
In Mississippi with Nathan & his family. Staying here. You okay?
She read Kristina’s text aloud, then quickly tapped in a reply that they were good and Amy and Trace were with Trace’s parents. Part of her wished her friends were close by, but common sense said they were better off where they were: with family. Kristina’s parents had retired early and moved to Arizona, so she had no family close by. She’d been dating Nathan for about six months and things had been looking serious.
This would certainly be a compatibility test, Sela thought. They’d be living together, with Nathan’s parents, whom Kristina had evidently just met, for no one knew how long.
What would it be like to face this crisis with a strong, dependable partner by your side? The errant thought blindsided her, and hard on its heels came another: she had always been the timid one, the one who dodged risk. Who would want to face this crisis by her side?
The realization was mortifying. She had to be tougher, smarter; she