“Do you want cream?” Louise asked, sounding chipper.
“No thanks,” Bee responded. “Just a bit of sugar.” She opened the lid to the sugar pot and stirred the granules with a miniature silver spoon. It had pink flowers painted on the stem with a delicate hand. She wondered why a stoic man like Rodney had such a feminine tea set.
Louise set Bee’s coffee down in front of her. Bee spooned sugar into the plain blue mug.
“Are you feeling better today, hon?” Bee asked, sipping her coffee. She met Louise’s eye and held it. They hadn’t spoken much of Louise’s constant slips into catatonia and depression. Bee didn’t think talking about it would do much good. The time for psychiatrist and medication was long past. The world was a harsh place and you either fought and lived or you didn’t.
Louise sipped her coffee and swallowed. “I think so,” she answered, enunciating her words carefully. “I believe the worst is behind us now.” She smiled brilliantly and her eyes sparkled, gold flecks shining.
Bee smiled, forcing it to reach her eyes. “That’s good, darling,” she said, patting Louise’s hand. Bee did not think the tough times were behind them. She thought things had been relatively easy so far compared to what stood in their future. They couldn’t just pop over to the grocery store or the hardware store when they ran out of food or something broke. Bee wasn’t talented at fixing things. Frank had always been Mr. Fixit.
The kitchen lights flickered, bringing Bee’s thoughts away from the dark days ahead. She smiled, thinking that Rodney must be feeling a bit better. Louise glanced up fearfully and a blankness crossed her vision. She sat at the table with the yellow coffee mug in her hand. It drooped briefly, nearly spilling but Louise rallied, clearing her throat and bringing her cup to her lips. Her hazel eyes cleared, gold flecks catching the light.
“It’s just Rodney testing the generator,” Bee said in a calm voice.
Louise nodded rapidly and her lips formed a tentative smile.
A squeal of static sung through the kitchen, followed by the sound of a human voice. Bee heard it distinctly for a split second. It was coming from a little square radio that sat on the counter. Bee had noticed it earlier but assumed that, like much else, their radio listening days had come to a close. She rose quickly from her chair, sending it screeching across the linoleum floor. Bee touched the radio, turning the dial to settle on the human voice again.
“We must gather and . . .“ the voice spoke clearly.
The lights flickered off and the radio fell silent.
“Damn,” Bee spoke, hurrying from the kitchen. She planned to find Rodney and get him to turn the generator back on.
Bee ran into him as he was coming in the back door. The generator was in a detached garage that was just a few short steps from the back of the house. Rodney had insisted on running the daily tests himself, stating that it was too dangerous for the ladies to walk outside. Bee appreciated the concern, really she did, but Rodney was in poor health and she thought it was much more hazardous for him.
“Rodney!” Bee exclaimed, catching him just inside the door.
“What’s wrong, Bee?” he asked, swinging his rife around where he could grab it easily. It was long barreled and had a glossy wooden stock. His expression was tense but there was a tightness to his eyes, she didn’t much like. It looked like he was in pain.
She knew better than to ask. In their weeks of getting to know one another, she’d learned he was a stubborn man and wouldn’t tell her.
“The radio in your kitchen,” she said excitedly. “It turned on when the power flared briefly.”
“Oh, that old thing?” Rodney asked. “I was fiddling with the dials yesterday. It must’ve been only static. I’m sorry if it frightened you or Louise.” His concern was earnest.
“No, no,” Bee responded erasing her hands through the air. “There was a man talking on it. I don’t know what station it was but I heard him clear as day.”
Rodney looked skeptical but was much too polite to say so.
“Turn that thing back on, Rodney,” Bee insisted, giving him a gentle push toward the back door. “I’ll show you.”
“All right,” Rodney acquiesced. There was amusement in his voice. “You just wait here,” he told Bee firmly. “And shut the door behind me.”
Bee nodded emphatically, bouncing on the balls of her feet like a schoolgirl. Rodney smiled again and walked outside, rifle held at the ready. The lights flickered and came to life. Bee could hear the faint drone of the generator. After a moment Rodney came back in. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow but he looked better than he had in a few days.
A man’s voice floated from the radio in the kitchen. “See?” Bee spoke, poking Rodney in the chest.
“I hear it,” he grinned.
“Come on then,” Bee said. “Hurry up.”
They hustled back into the kitchen. Louise was standing in front of the radio, gripping the counter top. Her knuckles were white and her expression was expectant. Louise’s brown and silver hair fell in front of her face and she swept it aside impatiently.
“The President was speaking,” she said, voice full of wonder.
“Hush, dear,” Bee spoke, walking close to the radio to listen. Rodney was right behind her.
You heard him folks, Mr. President live on the airways. There was
