DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed, no profits realized.
A/N: The events of Asylum from Bling's point of view...
Thanks for reading; any and all comments appreciated.
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Asylum:
Book II
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Emily brought a pot of coffee for the table and, after refilling their cups, set the pot on the table to leave with them, a luxury rarely seen in Seattle. She then set down a round stoneware dish which held three different jams in its sectioned bowl. With a crafty smile, Emily tempted them, "since you're going to the Market this morning, I thought you'd like a preview. These two jams were made by Doris Showalter, and this one by her daughter, Mary Yoder. They'll have a booth open, in case you want to have some genuine homemade jam to take home with you." She smiled, having been successful at the ploy before.
Bling nodded. "Oh, you'll like these," he said to his guests. "Might even inspire you to try making your own jam," he prodded Logan. "Robert's quite a cook," he added, for Emily.
"Then you're going to love the Market," she beamed. "Freshest ingredients you'll find. Too bad it's not later in the season, but what's available will be the best you can get."
As the others spoke, Max's eyes hadn't lifted from the container and, with a soft, curious movement, she reached out to draw her fingertips along the deep midnight outer rim of the dish, tracing down along the outside where the glaze blended into a softer, speckled blue, even more intrigued by the bowl's cool, hard smoothness. "This dish – it's beautiful," she finally looked up to Emily.
Emily looked pleased. "It was made by John Leatherman. I don't know if he'll be there today, but there's always a booth of his pottery there at the market. His and his sister's families take turns at the Wednesday market, so no one misses too much work."
Max's eyes widened, clearly not expecting her response. "Really? Someone here, locally, made this?" At Emily's nod, she asked, "They'll have things like this, for sale there?"
"All kinds of things – bowls, mugs, plates, vases," she encouraged.
Max nodded thoughtfully, her eyes then dropping back to the dish, and she smiled. "It's beautiful," she repeated, softly.
Bling watched Max as her eyes still took in the lines of the bowl, again tracing along the highly glazed surface, and smiled unconsciously at her intrigue. Could it be that Max has never seen hand-thrown pottery before? Or never stopped to admire it? he wondered. Glancing over at Logan, he saw that his friend was watching Max too, his eyes softened in affection and surprise. Not here twenty four hours and they're both finding surprises, Bling mused. Will they see how good this place can be for them, if only to present them with new possibilities? Looking over now to Sandra, Bling couldn't hold back his grin as he saw that she beamed with the potential she, too, now recognized. Poor Max and Logan, he thought ruefully. Between Sandra and everything this town has to offer, they don't stand a chance...
After only another few minutes Emily brought out breakfast and left them to themselves. As far as Bling knew, Max and Logan might be the small hotel's only guests that day; they had the patio to themselves for this leisurely meal. More likely, however, a few other guests had stayed over, if only to be around for the Market, and had already been up and out before the four of them had straggled in at the late morning hour of nine. But even though they seemed to be alone, they would remain careful as their visit here started.
"So, what did you think of the place ... Linda?" Sandra asked, careful to use the right name, even though she spoke softly. "See anything interesting on your run?"
"Yeah, I did," she began, reminded by Sandra's question. "It's like a storybook town; it's all so clean and well-tended. How did everything survive the Pulse so perfectly? This close to Chicago, how did it escape being invaded and stripped bare by everyone from the city, the way the small towns were out west?"
As she spoke, Sandra had begun to nod, clearly having noticed the difference herself. "From what people say, it was a lucky combination of a few things," she explained. "First of all, Chicago was one of those cities where most of the population lived without a car, and depended on the train or the bus to get around. It had been moving in that direction since the fuel prices spiked up so quickly about fifteen years ago, and so fewer people there had their own cars to get away. And for Chicago, the Pulse hit at a time there had a lower gas supply anyway, because along with the prices and limited availability, there was the additional cost for mid-west sellers for trucking it in from the coasts. So it was even less likely here than in Seattle that people had transportation, and that people who did could get enough gas to just take off to another town. And there are lots of little towns in any direction from the city, both in Illinois and Indiana, so those who left spread out, I guess. And maybe the most significant, for us here – many of the places here were summer homes, and the people caught here when the Pulse hit were away from jobs or home or family in Chicago – so they burned up their gas to go to the city, not escape it. If anyone figured out the Pulse was here to stay and they might survive more easily here, the gas was a lot harder to come by."
"And from everything I've read, the Pulse wasn't quite so devastating here in the Midwest, as compared to the east and west coasts," Logan added. "There have been several theories, but it seems to be generally accepted as fact. Maybe fewer people felt the need to find a place to fish or grow their own food to get by."
"Well, whatever did it, it's nothing like Seattle," Max said, almost wistfully. "I don't know that I'd believe it was real, if you two weren't here already, living here to say it's all a fake."
Logan slid his hand across the corner of the table and slipped his fingers under hers, toying with them gently. "Did you like what you see? At least, as a first look," he amended.
"Yeah, although it was only a first look around – and only what can be seen from the street."
"As far as we can tell, what you see is what you get." Bling offered his encouragement. "It really is this nice and quiet." He looked over for Sandra's vote. "You've had the same reaction, haven't you, Sandra?"
Her nod was immediate. "Between BL helping out at the clinic, and all the parents and families I've met because of the students, we've had a chance to meet nearly everyone in the area. It's all like this – everyone pitches in with what they can, as they can. It was one effect the Pulse did have; the Amish families did a lot to help everyone realize they could get by without dependable electricity or machines or cars, and could live off the food they raised. The lesson this town came away with was the value in helping each other by contributing something they could manage – the families making a go of raising chickens or cattle, for example, were encouraged to focus on that and let others raise crops," she explained. "And after things leveled out, they decided it was a good way to live – and it brought the town a lot closer. Not too good to be true, after all."
"And even though you two came in from outside the area, they haven't had a problem with you horning on their good thing?" Max wasn't quite ready to believe it all yet, Bling noticed. Maybe afraid too much hope would result in disappointment?
Sandra smiled, "it might have been easier for me, since they'd advertised for a principal and had several people from other places apply. And since BL came with me, he has that 'in' too. But there have been a couple others who have moved here since, and they've been made a part of the community."
Max snorted. "Sounds like a set-up for a bad science fiction movie, when the main characters fall for all the sweetness and get sucked in."
Bling laughed, taking up the thread. "Well, if that's what happens, they're good, because they have us fooled into thinking we're just fine." He paused a moment before adding, "if you came here to join the school staff, Linda, you and Robert would be welcomed here. And no science fiction surprises – I promise." He considered them both, and shrugged, " it is pretty quiet here, though. Since Chicago is so close, we've gone over there a few times, just to get a bit of city life back. It's not Seattle around here, by any stretch."
He watched Logan and Max as their eyes met over his words, Logan's asking Max if she were ready for such a leap, Max's asking fate if they could just finally have some peace. He'd known these two, observed them month after month, and was reminded how far they'd seem to come in these last weeks, after Eyes Only had been discovered. If you don't some here, go somewhere, he urged them silently. If you two can't see how hard Seattle is on you both right now, someone's got to make you see it...
But a small smile had broken again on Max's face, and she turned to Bling and said, "wasn't that why we came, to get ourselves away from Seattle? So far, things here look pretty good."
Bling couldn't help but notice the relief on Logan's face at her words, and the stubborn hope that she meant exactly what she said. "They are – no matter how much we might want you here, we wouldn't steer you wrong. You got that, right?"
She nodded, her smile softening. "Yeah, we got that." She looked back at 'Robert' and tucked her fingers closer around his. "So we get to work looking around for real?"
Logan's smile further lightened the worry and exhaustion Bling had seen the night before. "You say the word," he agreed.
"Maybe the first word is to get you two to the Market," Sandra suggested gently.
Bling glanced back at her, yet again surprised at her uncanny sensitivity. Woman has radar for lost souls, and for knowing just how much to push – and when to ease up, he reached over to take her hand and, with an amused wink, brought it to his lips for an affectionate kiss. "Let's get started." he agreed. I should have recruited Sandra a long time ago, Bling noted with amusement as the four untangled themselves from the table. If she'd been on the job, Max and Logan would have a half dozen kids, a dog and a PTA membership by now...
But on the walk over, Bling's concern lingered as he saw the look again from Max, the worry and attention, hovering under the surface, for Logan. Was he seeing more than was there? Was it still an apprehension that this move wouldn't be the answer they hoped it would be? Was he even right about that? How much can you help? How much should you intrude on their decision? he asked himself again.
Patience in all things... he heard his own voice from his early months as Logan's therapist. He ruefully reminded himself that 'practice what you preach' was also a fitting aphorism here.
Despite how important their well being was, and how much he hoped he had an answer for them, this was their decision – their lives. He'd never felt so strongly for them before that he might have found what they needed, and allowed himself to hope. Just let them discover it for themselves, he let his hand play up across Sandra's shoulders as she walked beside him. If it's right, they'll know...
At the corner they turned toward the park-like green paralleling Sandra's school at the far end and the town's main street at the other. With another glance toward his friends, Bling's self-counsel was given another challenge, and he followed their eyes to see the Market, as they would, as newcomers...
The "Market," standing under trees allowing dappled sunshine across its expanse, was a collection of tents and tables, bins and boxes. Along the street and rimming the park was the distinctive mix of pick-up trucks, small cars, and iconic black, horse-drawn buggies, horses standing by calmly, lazily feeding or swatting an early-season fly. Shoppers were moving from table to box, peering at the wares. Further inside the tents wooden racks were set up, holding rows and rows of glass jars of varying sizes and every color imaginable; coolers of plastic or styrofoam were labled "butter" or "cheese" or "eggs." A refrigerated truck stood behind the tents and had a price list displayed, for milk and various meats.
Almost as one, Max and Logan slowed, taking it all in. Max finally spoke. "Damn. It's not South Market, is it?" Logan broke his gaze to look up at her, a hopeful smile appearing. When she looked down, seeing the boyish enthusiasm taking hold of too-serious Logan Cale, she grinned. "Big money that it smells a lot better, too."
...to be continued...
