Weathering the Storm. Morgan Q O'Reilly

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СКАЧАТЬ heading off to a college dorm full of partying kids.”

      Blowing out a gust of air, Dad relented and took Mom’s hand in his. “You’re right, Deni.”

      Well. That had gone easier than I’d expected. Strange that it had been me to force the weaning this time. At the beginning of this ordeal they’d had to poke and prod me to move on to each next step in my recovery. Back then I hadn’t really cared. But things had changed in the past six months. They said I was coming back to being myself. According to stories I’d heard over and over again these past three years, I’d always strained against the boundaries, pushing and stretching them while my parents fought back just enough to make me stronger in my convictions. Okay. So once more I was pushing against the restraints.

      Just shy of three years since I’d been on my own, I kept my worries to myself. The proposition was as scary as it was exciting. Visiting my cousin for the summer was only a step away from the protective arms of my parents. Sort of like moving from crutches to a cane. He was still a support system, but more like support-lite. And he’d be busy enough running the B and B he’d inherited from his parents three months before my disastrous fall that he wouldn’t be dogging my every step, yet would be close enough to make sure the stove and faucets were turned off. If he didn’t see me for a day, he’d look in to see if I was still breathing, but he wouldn’t demand I file a daily “flight” plan as my dad–almost-teasingly–called it.

      Old pilots never give up their habits. Dad’s was to make me email him and Mom a plan of where I expected to go and what I planned to do each day. It was the only way I could get out of the house for a few hours, whether to go swim laps or visit the library. I also had to carry my new smart phone everywhere I went, as well as ID, house keys, and enough money should I find myself confused and in need of a cab to find my way back. I even had the number of a specific cab company programmed into my phone. They knew that if I called, their job was to get me home. To this end, I wore a belt with a small pouch attached. I called it my tool belt. It was better than the GPS tracking unit Dad had wanted to strap to my ankle like a felon, but not by much. As it was, he had access to the one in my phone.

      Besides, my going away for the summer would allow them time to get on with their lives. Dad worked with volunteer Search and Rescue teams, and taught survival safety for outdoor recreationalists. Mom volunteered at the hospital helping other families deal with the results of brain injuries. They’d put their plans for early retirement on hold and had spent a good portion of their savings to bring me back from a damn near vegetative state. I needed to break away and let them refocus on themselves. I’d more than used up my credits in that account.

      Of course they’d never voiced, or even hinted at, thoughts along those lines. But I’d seen the investment statements. What they’d worked so hard, scrimped, sacrificed, and saved for had been greatly diminished over the last three years, and not entirely due to poor market conditions. According to my calculations based on modest investment gains, they’d have to both work another fifteen years to recoup what my accident had eaten up in three.

      I could change all that. All I needed was a chance to get out on my own, stretch my boundaries, and teach my brain new ways to build short-term memory. I also needed to reconnect with work and prove I could build the instrument I’d been working on at the time I’d fallen. Sure, the company would own the patent and the intellectual property if it worked, but I’d be back at work, earning the ridiculous salary that I’d been getting for playing in the lab. In a few years I could replace most of Mom and Dad’s lost investments and put them back on track. It was a good plan, but I needed to stretch my wings and prove I could do it.

      Spending the summer with a relative was the only way they’d let me go, so Alaska it was. My first step to real independence.

      “Besides,” Dad added with a grin, “it’s not like we don’t know half the town. She’ll have plenty of guardians. All I have to do is tell Bill.”

      Oh yeah. Just what I needed. A whole village to watch over me instead of two protective parents. Great. Was there any place in this world I could get some work done in peace? Yeah, my lab. But I had a long road to go to get there again.

       Chapter 1

      As promised, Karl met me at the airport. Walking through the security partition, I spotted him immediately. He stood half a head over most of the people milling about checking the directions to baggage claim or hooking up with tour company representatives.

      The logoed chamois shirt he wore over a t-shirt and ball cap with the logo of The Smashed Boulder Inn from Talkeetna, Alaska sitting on top of his black curls helped me locate him.

      The drive from the Anchorage airport north to Talkeetna took two hours, and I spent the time deflecting his questions while I noted the changes that had taken place since I’d last been back. Anchorage was growing up, polishing the old image, expanding as best it could in the limited space between mountains to the east and water on the two remaining sides. The trees were just beginning to bud out with brand new, bright green leaves, and grass poked up through the matted remains of winter’s ravages. I felt a sense of rebirth.

      “Yeah, so, Zettie,” Karl said, using the nickname he’d given me so long ago. “We need to talk about this organic stuff.”

      “Dad mentioned that, did he?”

      “Yeah. Now, I’m as health conscious as the next guy, but really, is it necessary to go all organic? Has it made a difference? Other than costing more?”

      I shrugged. “I know I’m in the best physical shape I’ve ever been in. Probably because I spend at least half my time working out or working in the garden. We grow most of our own vegetables or trade with other gardeners who also shy away from chemical pesticides. The doctors are concerned about what effect those pesticides will have on my brain while it’s still healing.” By the time we reached the B and B, I had him agreeing to start out with a few more organic items, such as flour and condiments. He’d consider more based on feedback of the customers. If the cost didn’t get out of control.

      “You can have your own stash if you like,” Karl said. “I can’t go all organic, but you can do what you want for yourself.”

      Not a bad compromise. “All we can do is try,” I said. “Besides, I’ve learned a thing or two about cooking the past couple years. The food will be so good, people will gladly pay extra.”

      Karl snorted. “I thought you were here to rest and recuperate?”

      “I have plenty I want to do. Is my room big enough to set up a worktable? My boss is sending me a couple boxes of parts so I can try and get back up to speed on the project I was working on.”

      “You’re not going to burn down my house, are you? Aunt Deni warned me about your experiments.” He shot me a glare from across the truck.

      “No, I won’t burn down the house. I promise. I’m here to get back on track with my life. I’ll earn my keep by helping in the kitchen.”

      “When did you learn to cook? Seriously, last time I saw you in the kitchen you burned water.”

      I ignored that. “Cooking is no more than chemistry. Only edible. Simple enough. And to defray the cost of organic food, I’ll even put in a vegetable garden and take care of it for you.”

      Karl groaned. “I know what that means. Who’s paying for the plants and all the equipment?”

      “You are,” I told him cheerfully. “But I’ll make it СКАЧАТЬ