Arlene Sachitano - The Quilt Before The Storm

“I’m impressed,” Lauren said.

“This isn’t our first rodeo,” Mavis told her. “You should have seen it back in nineteen-ninety. All the rivers flooded in November.”

“Yeah, they lost the span of bridge on I-Ninety between Mercer Island and Seattle,” Aunt Beth said.

“And then we got eighteen inches of snow in December,” Mavis continued. “And I had all the boys at home back then. We were without power for a week. I dug out the camping equipment, including the sun shower, and it was a lifesaver.”

“How’s the food situation?” Harriet asked.

“Heaven knows,” her aunt replied. “That man won’t let us in the kitchen.”

“I wonder how the homeless camp fared,” Harriet said as she joined the rest of the Loose Threads, who were drying their hair in front of the fireplace.

“Sit here,” Lauren said and got up from the footstool she was sitting on. She ran a wooden-handled hairbrush through her long, blonde hair. “I have to go check Carter. He wouldn’t eat with the other dogs, so I shut him in the downstairs bathroom with his dish.”

Mavis had wound her hair on curlers and was bent over at the waist, exposing the top of her head to the heat.

“We did what we could, but until the roads are clear Joyce and the others are on their own,” she said.

“And we did offer to take them to the church,” Aunt Beth pointed out. “They turned us down flat. There’s not much we can do if they don’t want help.”

“Your breakfast is served in the dining room, ladies,” Jorge called from the next room.

Harriet was impressed. He had made cheese omelets and hash brown potatoes and served them on plates with cut-up apples, oranges, bananas and toast points.

“This looks fabulous,” Mavis said. “How did you make toast without any power?”

“You have a gas stove. What more does a person need?”

“I’m not trading my toaster in anytime soon,” Lauren said as she returned, Carter again tucked into her sweatshirt.

A knock on the front door interrupted them before they started eating. They looked at each other.

“Who on earth could that be?” Lauren wondered.

“Let’s find out,” Jorge said and went through the entryway and opened the door.

“How’s it going?” Tom Bainbridge asked as Jorge led him to the dining room.

“What are you doing here?” Harriet asked.

“Hello to you, too,” he said with a grin. His normally neat hair hung at a rakish angle over his hazel eyes. He was dressed in brightly colored all-weather pants and a matching jacket. “Excuse me for checking to see how you all are doing.”

He set a heaping plate, covered in waxed paper on the table.

“Mrs. Renfro baked for days in preparation for the storm, and there’s just the two of them. Even with me, we can’t possibly eat it all. Turns out Mr. R had an off-road utility vehicle hidden in the garage, so they unleashed me to spread baked cheer around the neighborhood. I have dozens more where these came from.”

He pulled the paper off with a flourish, revealing large peanut-raisin-chocolate chip cookies.

“I take it back-I don’t care why you’re here, you can stay if we can keep the cookies,” Harriet said.

“We can save these for lunch,” Aunt Beth said with a meaningful glance at Harriet. She claimed the plate and carried it to the kitchen.

“Well, she’s no fun,” Tom said when Beth was out of the room. “I guess you do have plenty of food, though.”

“You want to stay for breakfast?” Harriet asked. “I’m sure the neighborhood can survive without your sugary goodness for a few minutes.”

“Thanks, but I’m going to try to make it to the homeless camp. During normal weather, Mr. and Mrs. R volunteer delivering meals to those folks. Mr. R was going to try to take them food this morning, and ten or fifteen years ago that would have been a good idea. I’m pretty sure eighty years are in his rearview mirror, so I’m thinking him and the Quad are not a good combo. Since Mrs. R had to dig the keys out of a bag of sugar in the pantry, I think she agrees.”

“Did we just steal the homeless people’s cookies?” Lauren asked.

“No, she really did bake a bunch, and she did send that plateful for you all. I just came by to see if Harriet wanted to go to the homeless camp with me.” He looked at Lauren. “Sorry, the Quad only holds one passenger.”

“Like that would matter.” Lauren took a bite of her omelet. “Hey, there’s no sense in letting the food get cold,” she added when Mavis looked at her.

“I’d love to get out of here,” Harriet said with glance at her.

“What’s everyone looking at me for?” she protested.

“Let me get my coat and hat,” Harriet said.

“I hope you have helmets for that thing.” Aunt Beth said as she returned from the kitchen.

The Quad turned out to be some strange combination of a golf cart and a motorcycle.

“They’re called MUVs-multi-utility vehicles,” Tom explained. “It’s an offshoot of an all-terrain vehicle.”

The small vehicle bore some resemblance to a miniature Jeep; it had a bench seat big enough for two people in the front and a small cargo bed behind. Tom assured her it could hold a thousand pounds of cargo and was currently filled with cases of canned food and bottled water destined for the homeless camp.

“Is that gas strapped to the back?” Harriet asked, noting two square red plastic cans behind the flats of food and water.

“Yeah, Mr. R said the last time the power went out for an extended period, everything ground to a halt due to an inability to pump gas. He said the town has generators in place and a supply of gas to run them, but he thinks they’re reserving that capability for emergency vehicles.”

“Seems like they would have planned for that a long time ago,” Harriet said.

“You would think that, but I guess not. Or maybe they haven’t had storms of this magnitude since people became so dependent on fossil fuels. I’m sure there was a time when they saddled up the family horse after a storm if they wanted to check on things.”

“I guess so. Do we really have to wear helmets?” she asked when Tom handed her a red motorcycle one, donning a black one himself.

“This thing looks like a small car of sorts, but it really is closer to a motorcycle, and we are going to be going off-road, so, yes, we do need the helmets. Besides, I’m not crossing your aunt if I don’t have to.”

He helped her climb into the passenger side of the vehicle and strapped her seatbelt across her lap, returning to the driver’s side and repeating the process.

“I’m worried about those people at the homeless camp,” he said, a serious note in his voice.

“They should be okay if they went into the restroom. It’s floor-to-ceiling cement.”

“Some of them probably did, but I’m guessing the young drug addict didn’t, and if she didn’t, the older woman probably didn’t, either. And neither of those two older guys looked like rugged outdoorsmen.”

“You’re right. Joyce seemed a little more skilled at camping.”

“Camping is one thing, but I’ll bet it’s going to turn out we had eighty- or ninety-mile-an-hour winds.”

Tom started the MUV, backing it up then turning to go down the side of Harriet’s driveway that was free of larger tree limbs. They started downhill, and Harriet glanced back past her house to the forest at the end of her street. As they turned onto the pavement, she caught sight of Aiden’s tall slender form emerging from the trees.