Conflicted Home (The Survivalist Book 9) by A American (learn to read books TXT) 📕

my head again and waved Aric on. We left Dalton and Danny as they were trying to devise a plan for sour mash.

Gena and Dillon were out back tending the canning stove. The relief valve on the pressure canner rattled as Gena filled jars with tomatoes. It was hot work in the stifling heat of a Florida summer, and sweat poured off Dillon’s forehead as he added wood to the fire, despite the bandanna tied around his head.

“You two look busy,” I said.

“Gotta get it all put up before it spoils,” Gena replied.

“Glad to see you up and about,” Dillon said as he removed jars from a large kettle of boiling water.

“Thanks. Good to be up. I was wondering if you guys had any kind of fruit. Even skins, rinds, anything at all.”

“If you want skins, you’re in luck,” Dillon said as he reached down and picked up a five-gallon bucket and set it at my feet. “We made jelly from the muscadines yesterday. Here’s all the skins.”

I looked into the bucket and smiled. “That’s perfect.”

Gena wrinkled her nose. “What on Earth are you going to do with those?”

“Make vinegar,” I replied.

I could see she was thinking that statement over. After a moment, she said, “Huh. I never thought about making vinegar. If we had some, we could make some pickles! How long does it take to make?”

I shrugged. “Depends. Down here though, in this heat, probably not more than two weeks.”

“Well, if you get it made, I want some,” she replied.

“Not a problem. We got to get to town. I’ll see you guys later.” I said and picked up the bucket. Holding it up, I said, “Dillon, I’ll bring your bucket back later.”

A five-gallon bucket with a handle and no holes was a commodity to be coveted today. Sure, they used to be everywhere, and we always took them for granted when you could use one as a shopping basket at Lowes or Home Depot and take it home with you when you were done. They were left outside to fill with water and become little ecosystems, or blown out of the bed of trucks to be smashed on the highway. But not now. Now, it was very difficult to find one, as they were infinitely useful.

He waved me off. “Whenever is fine. I’ve got more.”

“Wait,” Gena said. She went into the house and came out with several small jars piled into her apron. “Here,” she said, handing the jars to Jess, “take some jelly home with you.”

Jess held one of the jars up to the light. It was a pretty light purple. “Thanks, Gena. That’s very sweet.”

“We’ve got more than we can eat.”

“I’ll say!” Dillon shouted. “Not to mention, there ain’t no toast to put it on anyway!”

Jess’s eyes rolled back. “I would give anything for a loaf of bread!”

“Maybe if we lived in Kansas,” Dillon replied.

“Well, we ain’t in Kansas, Dorothy,” I replied with a grin.

Dillon laughed uproariously. Pointing at me, he replied, “You’re funny, Morgan. But keep your day job.”

I laughed and shook my head. “I don’t know, buddy. My day job is killing me.”

Jess kicked me in the shin and scowled at me. “Don’t talk like that!”

Gena agreed with her, “That was not funny, Mister Morgan.”

“Okay, okay. It wasn’t funny.” I agreed in surrender.

Saying goodbye, we climbed back in and headed for the market in Altoona. As we rode, Fred said, “I don’t feel so good.”

Looking back, I asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just an upset tummy,” she replied and turned to look out the open side of the buggy. I looked at Aric, but he just shrugged and kept his eyes on the road.

Aric swung into the market and stopped beside Mario and Shelly’s booth. This time though, Shelly wasn’t there, and I asked Mario where she was.

“She’s back at the house with Garrett.” He nodded across the market and added, “John’s here helping me today.”

John was Mario’s lifelong best friend. Seeing me, he waved and smiled, which I returned.

“Damn,” I said. “I haven’t seen him since…” I thought for a moment, “before all this started, I guess. Where’s he been?”

“He’s been keeping an eye on our place. That and working the bees to keep us in honey.”

“I’ll have to go say hi to him.”

“Hey, Morg, me and the girls are going to walk around,” Aric said. I nodded, and they headed off to wander the day’s offerings.

“Heard about what happened to you,” Mario said. “Glad to see you up and around.”

“Me too, my friend. Thanks.”

“What are you up to today?”

“I need some honey. I’m going to try and make vinegar so we can pickle some of the crop from the garden.”

I could see he was thinking about it. “That’s a pretty good idea. But I’ve never heard of anyone using honey to make vinegar.”

“Me neither, honestly,” I replied. “But all you need is sugar, and honey is sugar.”

“That’s true,” he said as he picked up a gallon jug and held it up. “Best sugar there is.” And he held the jug out to me.

I took it and asked, “What do you want for it?”

He waved me off, saying, “Don’t worry about it. If it works, show me how you do it.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it.”

“Just doing my part for the community,” he replied.

“It’s a lot,” I replied, smiling.

I said goodbye and carried the gallon over to the buggy. Aric was there, sitting on the front of it with his feet on the bumper. He was leaned on his knees looking at something in his hands. I dropped the jug into the back seat and leaned up beside him. He was turning a small velvet box over and over in his hands.

“You still haven’t given that to her yet?” I asked.

He shook his head before looking up at me. “Not yet. But I need to. Soon.”

I looked out across the parking lot of the market at the girls. Jess was holding a little sun dress up as though she were modeling it. Fred was laughing at