Loving Olivia

By Geneva Vand

Jane always thought she'd live a fairly ordinary life. Then the world broke and changed everything.

Jane never expected to be the one running the local unofficial orphanage. But while it wasn't what she had planned, she wouldn't trade it for anything. She loves her kids and the life they've all built. She's happy just trying to stay under the radar while keeping them all fed and out of the clutches of the local militia.

Things are going well until her kids surprise her with an unconscious woman on the kitchen table, not even an hour after the militia was in the front yard looking for the same woman. Jane has no issue hiding someone from the militia as long as they aren't an actual criminal, so together the household nurses Livy back to health. It doesn't take long for Livy's bright smile to start chipping away at Jane's short but sturdy walls. Can Jane let down her guard enough for Livy to slip through? And what will Livy do if she does?

She wasn't ready for her world to change again…but love has a mind of its own.


Loving Olivia is a 35,000 word sweet romance set in a post-apocalyptic near/alternative future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Geneva Vand
• Release date: Jun 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201048501

Book preview

Chapter One

Mama Janie! Mama Janie!

I looked up in alarm as little Antony came barreling around the side of the house. His seven-year-old legs pumped even faster when he saw me kneeling in the garden. I held my arms out, and he launched himself at me, plowing right over the vegetables I had been weeding and leaving the cucumber leaves mashed into the dirt. I winced. He was old enough to know better than to harm the garden, so whatever brought him running was bad.

I struggled to my feet with Antony wrapped around me. Shh, shh. What's the matter?

He wheezed in a breath, choking a little. There…Mama Janie, there are soldiers!

I tensed but tried to hide my alarm from the little boy. Soldiers, Antony? Where are there soldiers?

Fern came outta the woods an' saw me an' Katie playing. She said— He started sobbing into my shoulder.

Shh, I cooed softly as I started walking quickly to the back porch. What did Fern say, honey?

She said I was faster! Antony cried. She said I was faster an' I had to come tell you there are soldiers so that she could take care of Katie.

Oh, no. Fern was out there somewhere with the toddler.

Katie was only three years old. Fern had sent Antony ahead to warn me, and then had probably taken Katie somewhere to hide. Oh, God. I should have already sent Fern north. And Antony was old enough now that, with how the militia had been the past few years, they might try to take him. It was very unlikely, but still close enough to possible that it made me edgy.

And the others...Everyone had left to go about their days. Where were the others? Did they know?

I climbed the steps to the porch and set Antony on his feet, shaking him gently. Sweetie, I need you to think now. Where did Fern say the soldiers were?

He sniffled but calmed a little bit. She didn't. But she was fishing today.

That's right. I had seen her leave with our only pole this morning. Where, Antony? Where was she fishing?

He frowned, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Albert's Pond? Or maybe the bridge?

I blew out a breath. Alright. Those were both east, quick to get to through the woods, but much longer by road. Oh, please let the soldiers take the roads.

Okay, Antony. Good boy. I need you to go inside now. Jessa is upstairs in the nursery with the twins. I want you to see if anyone else is in the house, and then go be with Jessa. Tell her about the soldiers and that I want everyone to stay in the nursery and be quiet as can be. Okay?

Antony nodded shakily, then turned and ran into the house. I told myself firmly that I didn't need to worry about him any more right now. Jessa would take care of him and the babies.

I shook myself. We could do this, Jessa and I; we could keep these children safe for just a while longer, as long as the older children didn't come back in the middle of things. But I didn't have much time.

I looked out at the garden, then hurried back down the steps. The spot where Antony had run through was too obvious. I smoothed out his footprints but left the imprints where I had knelt. I fluffed up the cucumber leaves as best I could, shaking off dirt. I straightened, brushing loose soil from the knees of my ill-fitting jeans. It would have to do.

I gathered up the small pile of grass and leaves I had pulled from the garden and took them to the compost behind the chicken coop. There. Now it looked like I had simply finished what I was doing for now.

I looked down at myself. I was dirty from working in the garden, but that was alright. Dirty was unrehearsed and had nothing to hide. Clean and tidy looked prepared.

I did fasten the buttons on my faded plaid shirt all the way up to the top, though. The less they saw of me to remind them I was a woman, and not just annoying, the better. My long brown hair was already pulled into a messy knot at the back of my head.

I went into the kitchen and started scrubbing dirt off my hands as slowly as possible. By the time I had resorted to using the small brush to attack my nails, I heard horses out front.

Alright. Deep breath, grab the towel. Nothing is wrong, they just interrupted you while you were cleaning your hands, I told myself firmly.

I walked to the front of the house, drying my hands leisurely like I hadn't a care in the world. I knew they could watch me through the living room windows. I stepped out onto the front porch, smiled my hostess smile, and let my hands drop.

I looked calmly out at the soldiers waiting in front of our old farmhouse. A decade ago, we wouldn't have recognized them as soldiers. Their uniforms were mismatched, though they were generally combat fatigues. Most weren't wearing covers—hats—and their shoes were whatever heeled boot they could find. There were beards and shaggy haircuts aplenty. But they were all men, riding healthy horses with well-fitting, well-cared-for tack. And they were well-armed. No one would mistake them for anything but the new version of the military that was currently trying to beat us all into the ground with martial law.

Carefully keeping my smile in place, I moved to the top of the steps. Hello, gentlemen. What brings you our way? I tried to count the horses without being obvious. Sixteen. Two units. What in all the hells were two units doing on my front lawn?

A familiar dark-haired man nudged his horse forward. Jane.

Good afternoon, Major Grosman. How can I help you?

We're looking for a woman, the major told me, his rolling southern drawl making him sound much more easygoing than he actually was. Perhaps you've seen her.

I frowned. No. No one new has come by. I didn't even have to lie. We were just far enough from town that we didn't get many accidental visitors. We tended to like it that way.

Are you sure, Jane? She's slender. Bright red hair. Probably a mess, as she's been lost for two days.

Lost? Right. They might have lost her, and she might be lost, but I doubted she had just wandered off and gotten lost. Running like the devil was chasing her, more like.

I shook my head, keeping my face politely blank. No, sir. No crazy redheads here.

A few of the men behind Major Grosman chuckled. Interesting. I was being facetious, but they were amused. Who was this woman?

Major Grosman hummed noncommittally. Well, I'm sure if you see her, you'll let the unit stationed in town know.

Of course. Not.

Major Grosman leaned forward a little, resting his arms loosely on his saddle pommel. Have any of your young men come of age?

I smiled, resisting the urge to show teeth. You know they don't hang around with me when they're old enough to go find work, Major Grosman.

What about that Jeffrey? We could use a bright young man like that.

Shit. They really shouldn't be paying that much attention to my kids. He left a bit ago. I think he was hoping to find work at a mill. He wasn't, but the closest mill was in the opposite direction from where he had gone.

Now why would he do that? Have you been discouraging your young people from enlisting?

I frowned, trying to look offended. I would never do such a thing. Who am I to know what goes through a man's mind? Oh, look at the poor little weak mousy woman running the orphanage. What does she know about anything? Nothing here. Go away.

Major Grosman smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. Well, perhaps we'll catch up with him, then.

You do that. Chase that goose.

Well, I guess we've taken up enough of your time for today, Miss Jane. Do remember to let us know if you find our missing friend.

Of course.

He straightened and signaled his men to turn and head back to the main road. I all but held my breath until they were all turned around and leaving. That had gone surprisingly well. The encounter probably hadn't been worth scaring poor Antony half to death, but I did still appreciate the warning. We'd had visits in the past that hadn't gone half as well. Like the time they'd taken more than half the summer's canning, or the time they'd come to see if I was housing any girls old enough to be maids.

Once the last brown tail disappeared around the bend in the drive, I sighed heavily and went back inside. I made my way up the stairs to the large room we used as the nursery for the babies and toddlers. I opened the door quietly and peeked inside.

Jessa was sitting in the ancient rocking chair, her salt and pepper hair loose around her shoulders. She looked up and smiled, deepening the soft lines around her wide mouth and bright blue eyes.

Catia and Toni, our one-year old—ish, we didn’t know their birth date—twins, were sitting on the floor under the window playing with Antony, their pale brown skin and dark hair a subtle contrast to Antony's much lighter coloring. The three of them seemed to be building a castle out of Legos and wooden blocks.

Smiling, I sat on the floor in front of Jessa, leaning against her legs.

Is everything alright? she asked quietly.

I nodded. They were looking for a woman. I think someone ran away, but they're trying to make it sound like she just wandered off and got lost.

Jessa scoffed.

I nodded. They asked about Jeffrey.

She sighed. I miss those boys, but I guess it's good they left when they did.

I miss them, too. But I'm glad they weren't here.

Jeffrey and Alban had left last week, not wanting to be conscripted. Unwilling to be separated, they had run together, hoping to make it across Puget Sound then up into what used to be British Columbia but was just West Canada