Harley’s widow had family in the area, but still, it was only right that others help her out, when and if she needed it. Did she have heat? Plenty of food? Sela had known Harley a lot better than she knew his wife, but now the widow was on her list of responsibilities.
The Livingstons hadn’t been at the funeral. That wasn’t reason for concern, but she did want to check on them. Maybe tomorrow, when she went to her house to collect a few things.
Ben wrapped his arms around her. “What are you planning?” he asked, rubbing his chin against her temple.
“What makes you think I’m planning anything?” She folded her arms over his, burrowing into the heat of his body.
“The expression on your face,” he said. “Besides, you’re always planning something.”
“Not always.” She turned in his arms and looked up, smiling.
He narrowed those laser green eyes at her and pulled her closer. “Turn those skills to planning our wedding. I expect your crazy aunt will get involved, so be strong.”
Despite the sad day, Sela laughed and tilted her head to kiss the underside of his jaw.
“You’ll have to keep her distracted, Stud Muffin.”
Epilogue
September again, and as usual the summer heat was holding on. The best part of the day was when the sun had set and the day cooled. After sundown was the time for magic. Their work was done for the day, the breeze through the open windows cooled the house, and they could just be together.
Home. This was home.
Dinner dishes done—after a meal of fish, tomatoes from the garden, and wild greens, again—they sat on the porch and watched the sunset fade. Sela absently stroked her stomach, which seemed to be swelling more by the day though Carol laughed at her and insisted she was barely showing. She could feel the baby moving now, flutters and light kicks, and it still made her breathless with joy. A baby! She was having Ben’s baby! This time last year having a family was a dream she’d given up on, and now she had a husband who made her breath catch in her throat, and a baby on the way.
This wasn’t the way she’d always imagined her pregnancy—if she ever had one—would go. There was no ultrasound, no way to know if their baby was a boy or a girl. Terry Morris did keep track of her blood pressure and so far that was okay, and she tried to eat a lot of fruits and vegetables, but that was the extent of her prenatal care.
She should probably worry more, but what good would worrying do? In a perfect world she’d have an obstetrician, prenatal vitamins, and cute maternity clothes. She’d have weird cravings for ice cream and pickles, which would be immediately satisfied. After a summer where the gardens had been very productive she could manage the pickles. Ice cream was another matter.
She sighed. Who was she kidding? This was a perfect world. She was happier than she’d ever imagined she could be.
Ben sat beside her in the growing darkness, holding her hand. Yeah, this was perfect.
“I hope the power comes back up before the baby is born,” she said wistfully. There still wouldn’t be a functioning hospital, but lights, heat . . . boiled water.
“Howler says grids are coming up every day,” he assured her. “We’ll have power before you know it.”
Ben and Cory checked in with each other about once a week. Some of Howler’s news was good, some wasn’t. In the year since the CME a lot of people had died—not the ninety percent the powers that be had initially predicted, but still . . . millions. Hundreds of millions. The world they’d known was gone, blasted to smithereens by a blast from the sun. Civilization might recover function in a decade, but not the way it had been before. The best and the worst of humanity had been revealed, not just in Wears Valley but around the globe. Survivors had found a way to do just that—survive—and many, like her and Ben, had made the best of a world turned upside down.
Howler’s wife, Gen, was pregnant herself. Maybe, eventually, their babies could play together, be friends, grow up, and bond over being one of many CME babies. What a generation they would be, a whole new Boom generation. As Brother Ames had said, people had to entertain themselves somehow, and going by the baby boom here in the valley, Sela knew what form that entertainment had taken.
The past year had taken a toll. A number of valley residents had died from accidents or illnesses that would have been preventable or treatable before the CME. Their retired veterinarian had died in his sleep, throwing all their medical care on Terry Morris. Still, the number of losses had been smaller than one might’ve predicted, but each one had been deeply felt. A few strangers had wandered in, in spite of the community patrol’s barricades. None of them had been what anyone would call upstanding citizens, except for a nurse and his family, who they had gladly welcomed. He had joined with Terry Morris to provide medical care for the valley. The other wanderers had been sent on their way, encouraged sometimes by Ben’s shotgun. He had a way of looking at people that made them want to be elsewhere.
Sela’s family was doing well. A fully healed Carol had reclaimed her position as community leader, with Meredith—who had moved into Sela’s house just days after Sela had moved in with Ben—at her side. They made a kick-ass team.
Their school system, while not sophisticated, was up and running. Barb taught cooking classes. Helping Carol oversee the community wasn’t her idea of fun, but she loved cooking.
Meredith walked to Ted’s grave, with flowers in hand when she could find them, once a week. It was a long walk, but Meredith was stronger than her husband had ever given her credit for. A couple of widowers had asked to keep her company, but she wasn’t ready for that, might never be.
The Livingstons had survived the winter, though Mary Alice was noticeably more frail. Sajack was a pretty awesome guard dog, as if he knew the old couple was his responsibility. Ben checked on them at least every other day. He imagined one day Sajack’s job would be over, and the dog would come home with him.
Olivia had turned sixteen, and they’d managed to throw her a sweet sixteen party, complete with a cake Barb had cooked in her iron skillet over an open fire. With icing. It hadn’t been a pretty cake, and there hadn’t been much icing, but . . . cake.
Thanks to Ben’s ham radio and Howler’s military connections, they’d gotten word to Josh that his family was well and being cared for, and they’d gotten word back that Josh was busy but okay. There was no way to know when he’d be able to make it home, but hearing he was safe made them all feel better.
They sat on the porch until darkness had completely taken over the sky, then went back inside. Bedtimes had adjusted to the daylight hours, which suited her just fine.
She snuggled against Ben’s hard, warm body, her arm curled around his neck, their child a gentle swell between them. “We need to pick a couple of baby names,” Sela said sleepily, already relaxed.
“Not until I see his face,” he said, not for the first time.
“Or her face.”
Ben grunted. The idea of having a daughter kind of terrified him, which she thought was hilarious. He was already charmingly overprotective.
“I want at least three,” she said, just to tease him.
“Babies?”
“Little girls.”