Everything Has Changed Read online

  “Yes,” Jenn said. “I’ve heard of that.”

  “The federal government isn’t recognizing common law marriage for Yellowstone-related programs. Their contention is that many people would claim common law status. They’re afraid some people would go out and find a close friend who they would claim as a common law partner just to gain additional benefits or qualify for additional programs.

  “I only bring it up because I wanted to determine what additional benefit programs you might qualify for as a married couple. And to tell you that, if you were planning on getting married anyway, this might be a good time to do it.”

  It was a sensitive topic, and Jenn was surprised to see Ms. Wilson’s face as flushed as her own.

  The fact was, it was way too early in her relationship to even consider something as permanent as marriage.

  They’d only been dating for a few months. Since just before Yellowstone blew her top.

  He’d only recently told her he loved her for the very first time; she still hadn’t reciprocated.

  Still, there was something there. Both of them felt it. Otherwise they wouldn’t have resolved to move to California together.

  It was such a long way from Little Rock, Arkansas, you see…

  Jenn was a bit more cautious in her relationships than Vince was. She’d been let down several times by men who were less than honest or less than faithful or who just turned out to be bad seeds.

  Now she was determined not to let herself fall for someone who was long on promises and short on deeds.

  Vince, on the other hand, had been in love only once before. She was his best friend for many years. It was a one-sided love, unfortunately, for she didn’t share his affection. She eventually fell hard for another man and he reluctantly let her go.

  Now this woman, Jenn, was winning his heart in the same manner. He could easily see himself joining her family and spending his lifetime with her.

  But first she had to learn to trust him, and that might take some time. He knew that and accepted it and was willing to bide his time, for it was easy to see she was worth the wait.

  As for the whole marriage question, that was something they’d need to discuss at some time in the future. For it was way too early at this stage in their relationship.

  “No,” she rather resolutely said to Ms. Wilson, putting the matter to rest. “We’ll probably get married at some point in the future, but it’ll be sometime after we get resettled.”

  She didn’t even realize she’d reached out to hold Vince’s hand as she said the words. Her subconscious mind wanted to reassure him there was no animosity in her words. That she had absolutely nothing against marrying him someday; that it was just too early in the whole process.

  When he squeezed her back she looked down and only then realized they were holding hands. And the squeeze he gave her told her he took no offense in her words. He wasn’t hurt by them.

  He was willing to wait.

  The tension broken, Ms. Wilson moved on.

  “Very well. Now that that’s out of the way, we can go on to the next step. Are there any family members who are disabled in any way?”

  Chapter 38

  By the time Jenn and Vince walked in her front door they were spent.

  Jenn plopped down on the couch; Vince collapsed on the recliner by the window.

  Both looked as though they’d just finished running a marathon.

  The children were a bit concerned. They’d expected their momma and Vince to fly through the door, excited as excited could be.

  They’d expected Vince to tussle Sam’s hair and to tell the girls how incredibly awesome they looked and how nice it was to see them all again.

  They’d expected their momma to hug each one of them and to hold onto them forever and to tell them what a wonderful experience they had.

  What she told them instead she summed up in a single word:

  “Ugh.”

  “Momma, what’s the matter? Did it not go well?”

  She took a deep breath and summoned up the strength to explain.

  “Oh, it went fine. I just forgot how much paperwork there is to fill out when you’re applying for government programs.”

  “Eighty seven,” Vince managed from his recliner.

  “Eighty seven what?” Meadow countered.

  With eyes closed and speaking the tone of an exhausted man he managed, “Eighty seven pages of forms and questionnaires. I counted them.”

  Jenn said, “I got writers cramp. It got so bad I had to pass the pen to Vince. I’d answer the questions and he’d fill in the blanks. Even now I still can’t feel my thumb.”

  “Wow,” Autumn said. “Well, at least you’re finished.”

  Jenn and Vince looked at one another and laughed.

  But it wasn’t a humorous laugh.

  It was the laugh of someone who’d just been the subject of a cruel prank; someone who saw the irony in another’s claim. Someone whose words couldn’t be farther from the truth.

  “I wish,” Jenn countered. “We’re just getting started. These were just the federal forms. We have to go online and fill out California’s forms. They need to know about your schooling, what courses you’ve had and how your grades are. Whether you want to be home schooled or go to a school there, whether you’ll need busing or tutoring, and on and on and on.

  “Then we have to do your medical history so the state can assess your health needs, and on and on and on…”

  Vince added, “We have to run by the bank and city hall and the school district office and give them all copies of various forms. We have to go by the utility companies and schedule inspections and cut-off dates. We have to gather addresses of friends and find your shot records and medical records and a dozen other things.

  “Lastly, we have to go to Mars to get Sam’s birth certificate since he’s not native to this planet. That’ll be the hardest thing we have to do, since we’ll have to build a rocket and all…”

  Sam loudly objected.

  “Hey, I’m not an alien. I’m just as human as you are.”

  Vince stuck out his tongue and said, “Who says I’m human, buster? You’re just lucky I don’t pull out my proton laser blaster and zap you to smithereens.”

  “Protons? Protons are so-last century. I’ve got lithium crystals in mine. It’ll blast you into the next galaxy.”

  Meadow rolled her eyes and pleaded to her mother.

  “Mom… when we go to California can we leave these two behind? Please?”

  “Yes, please?” Autumn added.

  “Nope,” Vince said as he winked at Jenn. “Your mother won’t leave me behind. She loves me. I know because she told me so on the way home.”

  He beamed. Obviously Jenn’s words meant a lot to him.

  “So,” he continued, “we can leave Sam behind, but I’m going.”

  “No way, Jose! It was my idea to move to California to begin with. There’s no way I’m staying behind!”

  “Oh, brother,” Meadow squeaked.

  Jenn reached over and grabbed a sofa pillow and covered her face with it.

  Autumn went to Vince and whispered into his ear, “If momma said she loves you how come you’re making her sit on the couch all by herself?”

  She had a good point.

  With great effort he stood and walked over to Jenn, then sat down beside her and took her hand.

  Meadow was the oldest of the three and secretly considered herself the de facto leader of the family.

  Her brother and sister thought she could be a bit bossy at times, but neither could argue that she didn’t get things done. And though they’d never admit it, they admired her for her drive and her willingness to sacrifice her own time and comfort for the good of them all.

  “Autumn… Sam… come with me.”

  They complied immediately, following Meadow into the kitchen, even while not having a clue why they were being summoned.

  Though they sometimes complained about Meadow taking charge, the
y also had the utmost trust in her. They might not like being drafted for one of her missions, but they knew they (or someone they loved dearly) would benefit from it.

  Whatever it was.

  Jenn was curious, but didn’t ask.

  She’d seen the same drill dozens of times in the past, and knew whatever Meadow was up to would be a good thing.

  For all the times her little ones had marched off to the kitchen before, they’d yet to start any fires. No one had been poisoned. The ceiling had never come crashing down.

  She, it turned out, had the utmost faith in Meadow too.

  In the kitchen, Meadow was not unlike a battlefield commander issuing orders to her troops.

  “Autumn, find the large saucepan. Sam, get six tomatoes and cut them into chunks. And try not to cut your thumb this time.”

  Autumn said, “Okay. But what are we doing, exactly?”

  “Those two are way too tired to cook and have gone more than the extra mile today. We’re gonna cook them a good dinner and let them relax for the rest of the day.”

  Chapter 39

  Over dinner Jenn came up with her own great idea.

  “You guys want to go on a picnic tomorrow?”

  Autumn cocked a suspicious eyebrow.

  “Where, exactly?”

  “Down the street. At Higginbotham Park.”

  “Ugh. You mean ash-covered Higginbotham Park?”

  “No, honey. We drove past it on the way home from FEMA yesterday. The city has cleaned it all up.”

  “Cleaned it up how, exactly?”

  “They’ve removed all the ash. Remember last week they had a bulldozer in the park, shoving all the ash around and putting it into big piles?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Well, they’ve put it all on dump trucks and moved it all out. When we drove by they had a dozen men lined up with leaf blowers, blowing all that was left to the edge of the park so they could take it away too. They blew off the playground equipment, the picnic tables, even the leaves of the trees that the winds didn’t already blow away. Other than the dead grass it looks like it did before Yellowstone.

  “Anyway, if you guys want I thought we could make some of Sam’s world famous grilled cheese and pickle sandwiches and have a picnic.

  “We could call it a farewell to our favorite park before we moved away.”

  Autumn, ever the practical one, asked, “Does that mean we don’t have to wear those darned paper masks?”

  “No, honey, I’m afraid not. Even though the park looks clean there are still microscopic ash particles in the air.”

  “I hate those stupid masks.”

  “I know, honey. We all do. But they should help us all live longer and reduce the chance of getting a respiratory disease later on.”

  “I’m in,” Sam said. “I’ll make the sandwiches in the morning. How many do we need?”

  He took a head count with all the care a chemist would take when measuring ingredients for a critical mixture.

  “One, two, three,” he said when counting the heads of the ladies present at the table.

  “Two for you, Vince, and two for me. That’s… seven.”

  “Six,” Meadow said. “I’ll have something else. You always tell me you’ll make me one without pickles. And then you always forget and put them on anyway.”

  “But the pickles are the best part. They’re what makes the sandwich. Without them it’s just a boring cheese sandwich.”

  “Says you.”

  “Says anybody with a brain, brainless.”

  Jenn cleared her throat.

  Sometimes that was all it took.

  Autumn helped by changing the subject.

  “Momma, will we have to wear the paper masks in California?”

  “I don’t know, honey. Why?”

  “Well, I was on the internet doing research on the ash fall and southern California. It says the fall was lighter there and that the winds from the Pacific help blow it eastward, away from the coast.”

  “Well, that’s interesting. What does FEMA say?”

  “Well, they say it depends on the day. Most days the ash count is low, but sometimes it’s higher than usual if the wind changes direction.

  “But it’s never as bad as it is here. Instead of telling people to wear the masks like they do here, they leave it up to each person or family. They say it is recommended but not required.

  “And they say that at the end of the summer and into fall they’re actually expecting the air to be cleaner than it was before Yellowstone erupted.”

  “What? Really? How on earth can that possibly be?”

  “They said that’s the wildfire season. Most of the wildfires occur at the end of the long hot summer, when the brush is all dried out and burns easily.

  “But that this year, the floor of the woods and the rural areas are coated with ash which will help prevent the brush from catching fire. They said ash doesn’t burn, and it’ll keep a spark from igniting the brush and dried grass beneath it.”

  “So… since there aren’t brush fires putting smoke into the air it’ll be cleaner despite the ash particles?”

  “That’s what it says on the internet, yes.”

  “So, Mom,” Sam asked, “When we get to California we can stop wearing those stupid masks when we go outside?”

  Jenn wasn’t ready to make such a blanket policy until she had all the facts.

  “Let’s wait until we get there. We were told at the FEMA office that the local TV and radio stations there are announcing daily ash counts.”

  “Like they do with allergies here?”

  “Exactly. They’ll announce the ash count in the air each morning and make a recommendation either to stay indoors or to wear a mask outdoors. On clear days they’ll say it’s okay to be out without a mask.”

  “So we’re dependant on somebody we don’t even know, deciding on whether we can take our stupid masks off?”

  “I didn’t say that, Sam. But it sounds like a pretty good idea, since those people are experts with access to much more information than we’ll have.”

  Sam was always ready to take credit for any good idea he had.

  As he saw it, he lived in a house with three women in it. He was the only boy.

  And in such a house which was long on estrogen and short on testosterone he felt like the odd man out. He felt overlooked and underappreciated.

  It was therefore perfectly permissible, he strongly felt, to toot his own horn occasionally.

  And it wasn’t that he didn’t have more than his share of good ideas. He was a very bright boy.

  A very bright boy who liked to brag when he got one right.

  “I just want to remind everyone, for now and forever, whenever the local news says it’s okay not to wear those disgusting paper masks… that I was the one who suggested we move to southern California in the first place.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter 40

  In the months immediately following the Yellowstone eruption every city in America was faced with the same dilemma.

  They had to get rid of the ash which covered literally everything, in depths up to several inches.

  Most cities sent all their heavy equipment out of town and found a large unused section of land, then seized it under emergency legislation.

  They used bulldozers to scrape the ash and first few inches of soil, clearing a space the size of three or four football fields.

  Then they began a massive operation reminiscent of strip mining methods used by the coal, silver and gold industries for generations.

  Only they weren’t looking for coal to burn or precious metals.

  They were looking for clean dirt.

  They pulled dirt from the ground measured in the millions of tons and piled it into huge mountains adjacent to the pit.

  From there it would be trucked into town to replace contaminated soil in front yards, parks, and pretty much anywhere vegetable gardens could be planted.

  While th
at was going on, dump trucks were bringing two, three, four hundred loads per day of ash they picked up from streets and parking lots. Often it was mixed with contaminated soil from those same front yards and parks they’d later supply with clean dirt.

  Of course, there was no place to put the ash and contaminated earth until the huge pit was bottomed out at two hundred feet. Depending on the city and the amount of heavy equipment they owned, just finishing the dig might take a full year.

  In the meantime the ash and dirty dirt mixture was dumped unceremoniously into huge mountains nearby the hole, so it could be easily buried later.

  Other methods were tried as well.

  For cities near waterways, like the great lakes and the mighty Mississippi, barges seemed to be the way to go. Cities contracted for every vessel they could get hold of which could: (a) hold a lot of ash and dirt, and (b) be easily and quickly loaded so it got underway and out of the way of the next such vessel.

  Boat captains were instructed to take the ash into international waters and to dump it, then to steam back for another load.

  Dumping in international waters required no pesky permits, you see. It was a lot less hassle for everybody.

  The dumped ash very slowly sank to the bottom of the sea, killing marine life of all types along the way.

  Nobody knew the long-term affects such dumping would cause. In future generations some species might grow extra heads or deformed fins or disappear completely.

  But the ash had to go somewhere. And the tactic fixed the immediate problem.

  Some cities got creative.

  Detroit, for example, had thousands of abandoned buildings which had been causing urban blight for decades.

  Most of them had basements.

  City crews began pumping ash into the basements of such structures. Once the basements were full, bulldozers were brought in to raze the structures onto the ash to cover it up.

  No effort would be made to take away the debris. It would become a permanent headstone for a tomb of ugly gray ash which was once part of Montana or Wyoming.

  In Kentucky and Pennsylvania and West Virginia every available dump truck which could be found was commandeered by each state’s National Guard.