Homeward Z

Two

In the morning my hand throbbed something awful, especially when John cleaned it. "Can you manage the pain or do you want something?"
"I'll be alright, my grandfather used to say pain wakes you up good in the morning."
John snorted in agreement, "I've noticed you don't use as many phrases as a real Irish person would. That's because of your father right?"
"Aye," I said and got another snort before nodding to his son Tom, "you'll stay here and watch the house, you know the drill."
"Yeah dad I've got it."
We split our separate ways and John didn't try to keep the small talk up in the car. It was hard to believe what remained of my plane. "Did you know the girl we found you by?" He asked, inspecting the body. "No, not really. She survived for a bit after the crash but her stomach was near slashed in half. There was nothing I could do." He closed the girls eyelids and shook his head, "and if we didn't already know our world was a mess.... damn what a shame..." he sighed.
"Here this should go down into the cargo zone," he added, nodding to a silver hatch.
  He of course had to help me down the ladder but at least we could most likely leave the hole toward the front where the front of the plane broke off. "Do you see it?" He asked as I began shifting through bags. I did finally spot it though with a sigh or relief. A pinch of good luck was better than nothing. "I'm relieved, I was expecting a small bag for vacation..." he said and I shook my head. "My dad isn't ever in one place for long because of work. I often have to go with him which means a longer stay."
"Yeah I don't envy that career, so much math and ugh," he shuddered at the thought, "yeah math is a cunning bastard."
"Kid that mouth his going to get you into heaps of trouble someday."
"I'd rather keep my filthy mouth, only wild Irish thing about me."
"I'd say the hair was too, your name too?" I glanced at him curiously. My hair was red but needle point, not curly at all. "To be honest my middle name is more Irish than the name Bridget. When I was younger most people called me Siobhan, it's hard to spell but my closest friends call me Chevy. I don't recommend doing so yourself until I know you people better."
"Bridget then?" He asked and I nodded.
"Only my mother and cousin Alice call me Chevy..." I whispered and pushed my bag out the hole. "Should we try and salvage anything else?" I asked.
"Already ahead of you, I took the emergency first aid kit but you're right. Let's look through the suitcases that are left."
Within an hour we had piled into the car with all the scavenged loot and my hand hurt like death. "You can admit that it hurts kid."
"Well it does, but there's nothing I can do about it..."
"Surely you can deal with..."
"I'm not taking painkillers, they just screw up the bloody mind. My wits are already a bit thrown as it is."
He didn't speak but nodded at last, "fine, but I suggest taking aspirin at least. It'll take the inflammation down."
"I will when we get back to the house."

Tom though made it abundantly clear I wasn't going to be getting off that easy. He had been chopping firewood all day and tracked it across the entirety of the house. I slammed a dish rag down with my good hand, "now, I know how men choose to live in squander and I'm going to keep this place clean. But if you guys become lazy and make yourselves lazy I will let you stew in filth."
Tom was already sweeping after I changed into fresh clothes. I felt bad for snapping and put out my good arm, "sorry, I have a wicked tongue."
He shook his head and finished sweeping out the wolf splinters. "No, I know better, I should've finished that before you guys got home. I just get distracted easily."
I snorted, "don't we all, I'll handle the real work in here. It needs it to be frank. Tomorrow I'll have you help me with gardening."
"Sure, no problem."

While I cleaned they showered using well water. A nice luxury John explained in the middle of nowhere. "It'll be cold since our powers been out for a while but it's what we got," he said when Tom took his turn.
"Yeah, I prefer cold showers anyways."
He closed the next cabinet I was going to work on, "you don't have to do all this... the garden really is enough Bridget."
"John... I hope you don't take offense in the cleaning. It's a stress thing... I clean to clear my head."
He nodded with a sigh of relief, "now, that's ok. I can't begin to understand what you went through so by all means clean. I do want to mention this though..."
I glanced his way curiously, his tone had taken on an edge of nervousness. "If we're all going to be under the same roof..."
"Sir, I've lived with worse before. That's why I was happy with the lock, you boys stay on your side and we'll get along just fine."
"Very well, let's take a look at that hand..."
My fingers were still clenched awkwardly and he explained that was normal. It would go away with the hard work he had explained about earlier. "I'll make you a proper brace and wrap after I cut more wood tomorrow. I heard Tom's going to help with the gardening... that's good, don't let him go fishing until your done."
  Tom appeared then and it was my turn to shower. I stared into the mirror for a while. My deep green eyes made me look even more Irish... god what a lie I am... they didn't bother trying to wake me early. In fact I beat them all up. Strange since I was sure jet lag would punch me but no cigar.
Apparently though John hadn't gone to bed early last night. He had made a brace already and leaned it against my door. I cooked them breakfast from what I was told was common use food. Sadly that also meant it was the most heavily canned or preserved. God this garden idea might be more of a necessity... they got up surprised to have plates already made. Seared fish filets with English muffins. Something I was sure we wouldn't have for long, but praised the simple joy.
"So how do I put this on, John?" I asked. He glanced to the brace as if remembering a long conversation, "ah yeah, here let's take care of that now. It'll straighten your fingers too, and it'll help it function better later."
   The leather bands took a few minutes for him to strap completely to my hand and it was surprisingly better than the other possibility.
"Still don't try using it, you don't want to do worse. Tom, show her wear the gardening stuff is."
He grumbled a response and promptly led me to a shed beside a long abandoned vegetable garden. "Oh jerry crow! What did you do this place?"
That got a rolling laugh, "Jerry Crow?"
"The church rinsed out my mouth for the alternative so yes Jerry Crow. Now an explanation..."
He shifted from foot to foot, "it was my mom's," and that was all I got and probably all I needed.
"Fine, start cutting those maple saplings out of the planter boxes and I'll pull weeds. Within an hour he was with me, frowning at the ease I had with this. "Calloused fingers," I whispered and waved them at him. "I've been doing this a while..."
"Your mom really didn't make much money?"
"The recession hit our area hard, she works a pub in the middle of nowhere and the things like new clothes and such I get from my father."
"Doesn't he want to help?"
"Aye, but my mom's a tinge prideful. She won't bow down to no man, but my father wants to make himself feel well so none of them are quite the decent folk."
We finished the boxes by dinner and I cooked for them again. "What should we plant?" Tom asked between bites.
"Potatoes, and no Irish famine jokes you hear, they grow good and are sustainable. I'll work on tomato's and carrots, maybe squash, but it may be to late in the season for that."
  I wish that had been the ending of my night but it wasn't.