The Tender Harvest: Graham's Resolution, #8

By A. R. Shaw

"In the silent depths of Diablo Lake, where shadows dance upon the water's edge, secrets linger like whispers in the night. Five years have passed since the world was torn asunder, yet the scars of our past haunt us still, etched into the very fabric of our souls.

 

I watch from the shadows as life unfolds around me, a silent guardian amidst the chaos. Clarisse tends to the wounded with a quiet determination, her eyes betraying the weight of our shared burden. Bang and Addy, their love a beacon of hope in the darkness, prepare for the arrival of their first child, unaware of the storm that looms on the horizon. And Tehya, consumed by a rage she cannot tame, teeters on the brink of oblivion.

 

But it's the arrival of Meg that sets my senses ablaze, her presence a harbinger of danger in our fragile sanctuary. With eyes that hold secrets untold and a past shrouded in mystery, she brings with her a darkness that threatens to engulf us all.

 

As the days pass, the specter of the terrorists looms ever larger, their presence a malevolent force that refuses to be ignored. And when Meg's true intentions are revealed, we're thrust into a deadly game of deception and betrayal, where trust is a luxury we cannot afford.

 

Yet amidst the shadows, there is still light. Light in the bonds that bind us together, in the flicker of hope that refuses to be extinguished. As explosions echo in the distance and lives hang in the balance, I know that we must stand united against the encroaching darkness.

 

In "The Tender Harvest," the next chapter of our journey unfolds, and I stand ready to confront whatever lies ahead. For in this world of uncertainty and shadows, one thing remains certain: the strength of the human spirit, and the resilience of the heart, will see us through." - Graham Morgan

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. R. Shaw
• Release date: Apr 15, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224546244

A. R. Shaw

USA Today bestselling author, A. R. Shaw, served in the United States Air Force Reserves as a Communications Radio Operator. She began publishing her works in the fall of 2013 with her debut novel, The China Pandemic. With over 15 titles to her name, she continues the journey from her home in the Pacific Northwest alongside her loyal tabby cats, Henry and Hazel and a house full of books.

Book preview

1 - CLARISSE

"D o you think this will work?"

Clarisse studied the pale face of the young woman sitting in front of her. Marcy was strong and healthy, snappy and feisty, but of all the survivors, she appeared to be the most vulnerable. Not because she lacked the skills to fight should the enemy ever resurface in soul-destroying numbers again, but because of her secret. Clarisse had seen it before. A woman reached her thirties, and her body clock started ticking… Even in this unrecognizable world in which survival was the invisible word in everyone’s mind.

Should she be honest? Should she tell Marcy that it was all down to her and Mark now? Despite the medical science behind the fertility-boosting injection Clarisse had recently administered, the ovulation charts, and the meds that were as close to folic acid as Clarisse could get given the dwindling and aging supplies, there were no guarantees that any of it would work. And the longer the situation went on, the more disheartened the couple became.

Even Clarisse had come to dread the look on Marcy’s face each time another month passed without her getting pregnant. She put on a brave face and disguised it with the mantra that became second nature: I’m not putting myself through childbirth, no siree! But then she would catch Clarisse’s eye, and there was no mistaking the dull flash of disappointment. It broke Clarisse’s heart, month after month. But she was starting to think that Marcy and Mark simply weren’t compatible when it came to making babies.

And she didn’t have a cure for that.

I think it’s your best shot, Clarisse said, choosing her words carefully. She forced a bright smile. Stick to the carnivore diet. It helped Bethany. Cheryl is making sure you’re getting your share of protein. Lay off the caffeine.

Marcy’s shoulders slumped. Seriously? But there was no conviction in the question. Both women knew that she would do whatever it took.

Clarisse reached across and took the younger woman’s hands in hers. I know this is easy for me to say, Marcy, but please try to stop stressing about it. From experience, these things always happen when you least expect it, and stress⁠—

Affects our chances of conceiving a baby. I know. Marcy shook her head and peered out the window of the new clinic at the view of Diablo Lake. If it’s stress, we’re screwed.

This was the first time that Marcy had acknowledged it might not happen for them, that they might never conceive, and Clarisse’s heart lurched. Her twin, Macy, had two beautiful little girls, Ennis and Nova, who adored their auntie Marce, but at the end of each day, the children went back to the cabin they shared with their parents, and Marcy was left with empty arms.

Clarisse swallowed hard, hoping that Marcy wouldn’t hear the clicking in the back of her throat. It had been five years since ‘the war’. Five years since they lost Dalton and Hunter. Five years since they said goodbye to Sherriff too, and although there had only been infrequent sightings of the enemy, stragglers who’d somehow become separated from the armies of jihadists sent to claim their country, they were all scarred. They would never relax. Ever. They’d made the mistake of becoming complacent before—they wouldn’t do it again.

Sometimes, Clarisse wondered if it would ever be over. If there would ever come a time when they could draw a line under what happened when the virus destroyed ninety-eight percent of the global population, tearing the planet apart so that the jihadists could crawl through the cracks and take over. They’d experienced the very worst of humanity. Over the past five years, other survivors had emerged from their hiding places and passed through the settlement at Diablo Lake with tales of tunnels leading to underground bunkers and mountain lodges and wild animals. They rarely lingered. Some spent time with Bang and Addy, being trained in armed combat. Others learned how to use radios with Rick so that they could communicate when they moved on to wherever they were headed. But mostly, they accepted Clarisse’s vaccination, listened to the camp’s recollections of the war, were open-mouthed and horrified, and didn’t stick around for more than a day or two.

Were they too intense for the other survivors? Perhaps. But Clarisse had come to realize that if intensity was what it took to stay alive, she wouldn’t swap it for all the scientific equipment in the world.

Before she could respond to Marcy with something upbeat, with the reassurance that the younger woman so desperately craved, raised voices from outside the clinic penetrated her thoughts.

Stop right there, young lady! The voice belonged to Graham, and there was only one person he could be talking to.

2 – GRAHAM

No one ever warned Graham that fatherhood could be so difficult. Bang came to him as a frightened four-year-old who helped a strange man bury his mother and then left behind everything and everyone he’d ever known, to set off in a big truck with a backpack of clothes and a plastic bow and arrow set. He’d rescued the twins from a crazy lunatic with a hatchet, patched up Marcy’s leg, and took them to Cascade along with a police dog they’d named Sherriff who became the glue that held what was later known as Graham’s Camp together. They’d survived a pandemic. They’d fought countless battles against the enemy. He’d lost the woman he loved more than life itself, and yet he still couldn’t figure out what to do with his daughter Tehya.

He was the problem—he understood that much. She hadn’t forgiven him for abandoning them and embarking on his one-man vendetta against the enemy. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to explain that he did it for her. For them. All his kids—he had always thought of Bang and the twins, Mark, and McCann as his own, and nothing would ever change that.

In his head, he’d believed that, even if he had to sacrifice himself in the process, the only way he could secure their future was to eliminate the enemy once and for all. He wasn’t a superhero. The only title he’d ever wanted was Dad. But he’d allowed anger to take over, had become dogmatic by the goal to end this war no matter what it took, knowing that if anything happened to him along the way, his kids would be cared for by their adopted family.

Tehya was eight years old at the time. Her dad left without saying goodbye. Her brother was seriously wounded, and she’d held Sherriff, afraid to make a sound while he died in her lap after saving her…

Graham couldn’t turn back the clock. If he could, would he do things differently? Probably not. There was no time for regrets what-ifs and speculation in this world, there was only survival, determination, and courage.

No room for recklessness either.

Tehya! he yelled outside the cabins. He imagined the others going about their daily tasks, rolling their eyes and sucking in deep breaths, waiting for the argument that would surely…

follow the outburst.

Tehya kept right on walking. Didn’t even flip her long straight glossy black hair for a glance back over her shoulder. She was headed to the cabin she shared with Graham, Cheryl, and Paige—when she was there—Scout trotting by her feet, the dog shooting glances up at the girl’s face trying to pre-empt her next move.

What was Graham supposed to do when she wouldn’t even stop and talk to him? He studied his daughter’s back, the long black hair was usually fastened into a messy plait, the straight spine, the determined strides that reminded him so much of her mom. She was the image of Tala; sometimes, it took Graham’s breath away when he caught a glimpse of his daughter out of the corner of his eye, and he had to remind himself all over again that Tala was gone. But that was where the resemblance ended. Where Tala was kind, generous, and loving, Tehya was often selfish, spiteful, and spikey. Even Bang struggled to hold back his temper with his little sister at times, and Bang was the most patient person Graham had ever known.

The only person who seemed to understand what was going on inside Tehya’s head was Corey. Perhaps Tehya gravitated toward him because of his connection to the Native American tribe he called family. Perhaps, in some way, she felt closer to her mom when she was with Corey than she did with any of the people who knew her well, including Graham. Or it might simply have been that Corey didn’t try to contain her. Often, during their most vocal arguments, Tehya yelled at Graham that she felt smothered. Like a caged animal. This was usually the point at which Graham relented and backed off, giving his daughter space to breathe, time to calm down and understand why their rules were in place.

Bang said that Tehya knew how to play him and that he fell for it every time.

There was probably an element of truth in this too, but Graham had learned to pick his battles so that he and his daughter weren’t constantly at each other’s throats.

Clarisse and Marcy were standing outside the clinic watching him. Footsteps came pounding toward him from the lookout post on the south side of the settlement, and Graham instinctively knew, without turning around, that they belonged to Bang. Funny how you could recognize a person by the way they walked, could even tell if they were anxious or relaxed by the sound their footsteps made on the ground. Bang was here to play peacekeeper. Again.

Before Graham could raise a hand to stop his son, a piercing whistle filled the air, making the hairs on Graham’s arms stand on end.

Hey, Tehya! Corey yelled.

He hadn’t moved from his position a few steps away from Graham, where he’d remained silent while Tehya told her dad that she was going with Corey to visit his tribe. It wasn’t a question. She wasn’t asking for permission. She was simply letting him know that she’d be gone for a couple of weeks and that he wasn’t to go looking for her. The teenager hadn’t even stuck around for her dad’s response—as far as she was concerned, the discussion was over.

At the whistle, Tehya stopped. Scout stopped too, sitting smartly on her haunches, and peering up at the girl while she awaited the next command. Slowly, Tehya turned around and faced the small group, the expression on her face unfathomable. She didn’t speak.

Listen to your dad, Corey said.

Beside Graham, Bang bristled but didn’t move.

Corey had remained with them after the war, turning up every day, helping out wherever he was needed, and teaching them skills he’d learned from his time with the tribe until he became a permanent fixture seemingly without anyone noticing. At times like this, Graham was grateful to have him around. Other times, he found himself pondering the guy’s real motive for staying.

Tehya’s attention was on Graham, her large brown eyes staring right at him like he was wasting her time, keeping her hanging around.

She knew the rules: stick together; safety in numbers; no one goes off-grid without good reason. Graham was going to remind his daughter that she was needed in camp, that—like the rest of them—she wasn’t due a vacation any time soon and couldn’t take off whenever she felt like it. But this was another battle he’d already lost, and if she was going to do this, he wasn’t prepared to let her go with a bad taste in both their mouths.

You take a radio and communicate every hour, he said finally.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Bang, and Graham knew that he would have some explaining to do later, but his son was a smart young man. He would understand, even if he didn’t agree with Graham’s decisions.

Twice a day, morning and night, Tehya said, hands on hips.

Every two hours, final offer, Graham retorted. Two hours pass by, and I don’t hear from you, I’m bringing the truck, and I don’t care if I have to drag you back to camp, kicking and screaming, I will do it.

Graham sensed the corners of Corey’s mouth twitching into his usual lazy smile, and Clarisse’s frown from the opposite side of the walkway. Maybe he was too soft on her, but he was compensating for the loss of her mom and the evil world she’d been brought into. His own father’s voice, remarkably, still resounded inside his head, reminding him that she would have to find her way in life just like everyone else. Mistakes and all.

Oh, and one last thing, he said. Scout stays here.

Tehya didn’t glance down at the dog at her feet. Instead, she balled her hands into fists, and said, Can I go now?

Graham nodded once. Tehya turned around and carried on walking, Scout matching her pace. She’d be gone within the hour and wouldn’t return for a couple of weeks. Perhaps he should use that time to make peace with his daughter’s anger toward him. Maybe it was what they both needed, a little time apart.

Corey went to walk away, and Graham grabbed his arm. Anything happens to my daughter, he said between gritted teeth, hope I never find you.

The younger man smiled at him, freed his arm, and went to ready his horse, saluting Graham over his shoulder.

3 – BANG

"W hat’s going on? Bang didn’t waste a beat. That’s what got you killed after all they’d been through—you learned there was no time to waste because you never knew what waited on the other side of the woods in the early dawn of day. Where’re they going?"

Corey’s taking Tehya to visit his folks. Graham still watched his daughter, his gaze not faltering until she disappeared inside the cabin with the dog. Only then did his shoulders visibly relax.

I’m going with them. Bang’s hand, already on his rifle like he expected trouble along the way.

No. Graham reached out to stop him but fell short of touching his son’s arm, mindful that he was an adult now, and capable of making his own choices. We have to let her do this.

Five years ago, when they were reunited with Graham, Bang noticed the difference in his father. It was as if the years of fighting, the battle scars, and the people they’d lost along the way sucked the energy from him and stuffed him with something else, something cold and hard that oozed hatred for