My library. bonjourparis.com
Back in the basement we asked Charlie for any news. He told us things were heating up, that in San Francisco all working vehicles were being sent out in every direction to spread news of this migration. They only had a few bullhorns working, but police officers in uniform were sent out to canvass the streets and at every few intersections get out and announce the directives. The same was happening in the East bay and to the north and south. He said the military channels were busy too. There were orders to set up and provision stations along the way. They were to expect their first customers tomorrow.
“Any world news” I asked.
“Yes” Naomi replied, “and good news too. Mr. Tanaki was on the radio and said the deal was sealed and that he’d be here later tomorrow, that we needed to pack our bags for the following day. We asked him about world events. He told us there was a full-scale land war going on in the Korean peninsula and also in Europe, but he didn’t have any details as to who was winning. It seems the world has seen enough of nukes in the last few days and every country, by mutual consent is reigning in those options. It’s all boots on the ground now he said, and it could last months or years.”
“One thing, Roland” she went on, “I don’t know what plan Mr. Tanaki has in mind for us with this talk of trading his plane for a sailboat. But whatever it is, I’m not leaving my mother, and she won’t leave the Abbotts, so we're staying here, at least in this area, come what may.”
Jason immediately chimed in: “And I won’t leave either. I’m staying with Naomi. Where she goes, I go.”
“Understood” I replied, “no one is asking you to do anything against your will. If this migration works, I think the whole state will be back in order before Christmas. But for now, I know that we’ll all be relocated. Charlie, off the top of your head, where’s the safest place you’d want to be sitting at your set if parts of the bay area were up in flames?”
“On one of the islands” he replied, “Alcatraz or Angel Island. There’s a military base on it and no matter how high the flames climb here, they’re never gonna reach there.”
“I agree” I said. “I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow, but if Mr. Tanaki shows up to whisk some of us away to his island, we’ll try to negotiate a haven here so that everyone can choose to stay or go. They do owe us a few favors and in the safe we still have some mighty powerful bargaining chips, so to speak. We just have to talk to the right people. Let’s see what happens. That’s all we can do.”
That evening I enjoyed a pleasant social visit with Lucille and the Abbotts with Scout accompanying me into their kitchen, to apprise them of all the news, while Lucille bustled about, then later in their dining room where most of us gathered for one last banquet.
It was as if we were in the eye of a hurricane, the first tumultuous wave half blown over, which we survived, the second portion to come. But in this brief respite of perfect calm it seemed almost like a moment to celebrate, to raise our glasses at the table with a to toast ‘life’. And this we did with a fine chocolate cake baked fresh from the oven, with the last of Sunday’s eggs, kept cool in the cellar, and a can of condensed milk.
The night was equally delicious. We brought Charlie and Naomi and Jason their meals and sat with them for a while. There wasn’t much news. It seemed like the next day was going to tell everything. Mary and Jane took Scout upstairs to put her to bed. Then they joined the four of us in the main library with one candelabra burning. It was still untouched by the rude hands we’d laid upon the upstairs library earlier in the day. Jaime started a fire and sat down beside Samantha. I poured a platter of tulip glasses with my father’s finest cognac. I thought, if we had to leave this house, we might as well use it up.
We sat and sipped in front of the glowing fire saying little, each of us holding the hand of our loved one. I hadn’t noticed before, but Jaime seemed quite enamored of Samantha, and vice versa.
I revolved this development in my thoughts but all in conjunction with Claire, close beside me and reading my mind. “Is this wafer some sort of love drug, an aphrodisiac? Does heightened awareness and sensitivity lead directly to love?”
We both leaned our heads back in our chairs and contemplated the question. Abelard and Heloise came to my mind as the two brightest candles of their distant age. Claire came up with Hemingway and Gellhorn, neither one a genius, as I mentioned to her, yet both of them way above the norm and a suitable example. Most geniuses were too independent and too solitary ever to be able to fall in love. They were different and all alone. They knew it, and they made the best of it.
But with us it was all so sudden, this life change. We were like strangers brought together during a violent storm seeking shelter under one roof, the lightning and thunder flashing wildly outside, serene warmth and happiness within. It was only natural that we should bond and join in pairs and unite for our survival.
Claire and I smiled reciprocally and bid goodnight to the others.
Tomorrow would bring a whole new set of challenges and a new life. Everything that had happened to us transpired under this one roof, in this nest, and soon we would have to take leave of it for a long time. So tonight we were going to enjoy the last of the old.
The next morning when we awoke it was already an hour into the day. I got up, dressed, and hurried to the front windows of my library to see if there were any people in the nearby streets. At first glance they were empty but as I stood there a few moments two young people, a man and a woman, probably students, speed by on bicycles. They each had backpacks on and other gear bundled up in saddlebags behind their seats.
Once again I wondered why I hadn’t thought of that. I was never a bike enthusiast but the idea was a great improvement over walking. Those two could pedal a hundred miles a day and from the top of the hills, which they might reach today, and almost coast to whatever destination they were given. Next, I saw what I was looking for, a group of seven people, four adults and three children pulling three suitcases on wheels and all of them wearing knapsacks of various sizes. They were up the street from me and about to pass by so I ran downstairs and out the door to greet them.
“So you’re making the trip towards Sacramento?” I asked.
“Yes we are. We heard it from some friends yesterday. I hope they’re right” said a middle-aged man.
“They are right and I hope everyone follows your good example. We have a shortwave radio and heard it straight from the governor’s office. There are cars driving around spreading the order. They just didn’t make it up here yet. They’re dealing with the flatlands first. You should see others joining you very soon. Just follow highway eighty east. And by the way, do you have a good supply of water?”
“We have four bottles” the man replied. “The creek ran dry two days ago. That’s one of the reasons we’re leaving. Why, do you have a large supply?”
“Yes we do. There’s an old pump in the yard next to ours still working. I was just about to put out a sign. Hold on; we’ll get you some.”
Scout had come out and was beside me, looking curiously at a girl in the group who must have been within a year of her age. She had similar length hair and bangs; only her hair was brown.
“Scout, run in the house and bring these good folks two more bottles of water, whatever is in a plastic container.”
The group thanked us. I told them this was what the governor ordered, everybody helping each other and sharing. It was the only way this whole thing was going to work. I told them military posts would be set up all along the way where they could rest and refill. I hadn’t been out on the road I admitted, but I’d heard they were starting to set up yesterday. Just as Scout came out with two plastic jugs, I noticed up the street another couple heading this way, the woman pushing a stroller and the man pulling a kid’s red wagon with a small umbrella fastened to its side to provide shade. It had a bundle of clothing and goods in it and a five-year-old boy was coasting alongside on his bicycle, the trainer wheels still on.
“Could you do me a favor and let this family join with you. There’s safety in numbers. In fact, if you meet a few more families, travel together. It might slow you down a little but this isn’t a race. You’ll have more conversation for the walk and make new friends.”
They waited for this foursome to arrive, introductions were made, and I was so excited at the prospect of my plan working that I had Scout run in the house once again and bring out as many cans of tuna fish as she could carry. We had a large stack of them and it was never one of my favorite foods, in fact, I despised it. The thought occurred to me that I was operating on two emotions here, both love and hate in the same instant, an odd idea. But they thanked me again for this unexpected bounty and set off, Scout waving goodbye to the little girl as she waved back.
We went over to the Abbott’s for some breakfast. After that I went to their garage and on a half sheet of plywood painted in bright red letters: “free water here. Bring your own containers”.
I set it right beside their open gate so that anybody coming down the hill would see the sign. It wasn’t fifteen minutes before there was the first knock on the door. Mary and Jane were quick to answer and show a group of six adults behind the house to the pump to fill up whatever they could. We had a collection of empty jars and gave those away, a few at a time. They were useless to us. The Abbotts decided to sit out front on lawn chairs beside the sign to greet all the passersby, while Jane and Mary and Scout did the business of watering everyone up, even giving away some of the ripe vegetables, as we’d be leaving soon and couldn’t take them with us. It was a kind task, fit for nuns or nurses in a hospital.
By noon I could see that my plan was at least partially working. We’d had over fifty visitors to the pump, all of them starting on their long trek to the central valley, the land of milk and honey. I was amazed that the pump didn’t run dry. But then again a few hundred gallons was probably nothing to an underground stream.
I went back to our basement where Charlie and Naomi and Jason were working the mikes and told them to tell whatever civil authorities they could that the migration had begun and that they’d better be ready. The answer we got was that they were still setting up, but so far able to handle the trickle of people coming in. And they were preparing for a flood of folks. We hadn’t heard anything from Sacramento. They probably had their hands full, coordinating this massive migration.
I thought about all the wheels I’d seen on the road and the task of getting a part of my main floor library to the wine cellar. There was a wheelbarrow beside our greenhouse. I called Claire to my aid, and we began wheeling the thing full of rare volumes to the top of the basement stairs where Jaime and Samantha were waiting to convey each load into the wine cellar.
Once again, in several hours I had all the books I deemed worth saving into a safer place. We used all the boxes I could find. The rest we stacked up on blankets on the floor. I had Charlie bring the welding rig from next door to begin his work, but not before we had another forty cases of wine, at Jane’s suggestion and with Jane’s help, brought up to the pantry.
“Who knows how long we might be stuck here” she said, “and we certainly don’t want to run dry”.
It was now mid-afternoon. We spent the rest of it idly, chatting with neighbors in the street. The steady flow of people down the lane had stopped, so we brought in our sign and closed the gates. Many of them had come by to just stock up on water, but in talking, we did our best to convince them that this trek was crucial, a do or die situation. Most said they would set out the next morning. A few were determined to stay in their homes longer, to see what would happen. I suppose these people had a better stock of food stashed away. I wasn’t going to argue with them. I didn’t have to. Hunger would do that.
