Bitter Sweet (36 page)
He wondered where
Nancy
was. She hadn’t called tonight.
Fargo
, if he remembered right. Did the storm system stretch that far?
He hoped Ma was all right, that her furl oil barrel was full. Damn ornery woman wouldn’t let Mike and him put in a new furnace for her. The oil burner heats as good as ether, she insisted stubbornly. Well, when this was over, he was going to buy her a furnace whether she liked it or not. She was getting too old to live in one hot room and five cold ones.
He hoped everything was okay with the baby Barb was carrying. This would be one hell of a time to sprout any trouble along those lines with only one hospital in the whole county, and it clear down in
And Maggie... all alone in that big house with the wind howling in off the like and the old rafters creaking beneath the weight of the snow. Was she sleeping in that carved bed they’d carried in together? Did she still miss her husband on nights like this?
Eric might have missed the car altogether, had the driver not been wise enough to tie a red scarf onto a ski and ram it upright into a snowdrift. The wind snapped the scarf out at a right angle to the earth, it and the pole the only visible dues that a vehicle lay submerged nearby. Speeding toward it, Eric rose anxiously on one knee, his heart hammering.
People died of asphyxiation in stalled cars. Or of exposure when they panicked and left them. He Gould not tell hood from trunk; it was all one smooth mound. No engine ran, no door had sliced off the top of a snowdrift. No snow had been cleared from around the tailpipe.
He had once pulled a drowning child out of the water at Stalling’s Beach, and the feelings of that day came back - controlled terror, fear of being too late, adrenalin forming a stricture around his chest. He experienced a sense of phantasm, as if he were moving through molasses when he was actually covering distance like a cyclone, jumping off his machine before it had quite stopped moving, fumbling to free the shovel, wading through waist-deep snow in the beam of his headlight, fighting the elements with demonic passion.
‘Hello!’ he shouted as he gouged shovelfuls of snow and speared through with one hand to ascertain it was, indeed, a car underneath.
He thought he heard a muffled, ‘Hello,’ but it might have been the wind.
‘Hold on I’m coming! Don’t open the window!’
Impatiently he threw back his faceguard, scooped five times, hit metal, scooped some more.
This time he heard the voice more clearly. Crying. Distressed. Wailing muffled words he couldn’t make out.
The shovel struck a window, and he shouted again, ‘Don’t open anything yet!’ With a gloved hand he scraped the snow from a small square of glass and peered through at a blurred face and heard a woman’s voice crying, ‘Oh, God, you found me...’
‘Okay, just crack the window to let some air in while I free the rest of the door,’ he ordered.
Seconds later he opened the car door, leaned in and found a panicky young woman with tears streaming down her face, dressed in a jean jacket, with a leg warmer tied around her head, a pair of grey socks covering her hands, and various sweaters and shirts tucked around her lap and legs.
“Are you all right?’ He removed his helmet and ski mask so she could see his face.
She was sobbing and could hardly speak, ‘Oh God... I I ... was.., so... scared.’
“Did you have any heat?’
‘Until I r... ran out of g… gas.’
‘How are your feet and hands? Can you move your fingers?’ He bit off his gloves, unzipped a pocket of his snowmobile suit and pulled out a small orange plastic packet.
He opened it with his teeth and slipped out a white paper pouch. ‘Here, this is a chemical hand warmer.’ He scrubbed it between his knuckles as if it were a dirty sock. ‘All you have to do is agitate it to get it warm.’ Kneeling, he reached for her hand, pulled off the sock and a thin wool glove underneath.
He put the pouch in her palm, folded her hand between his own much larger ones, and brought them to his lips to blow on her fingers. ‘Move your fingers for me so I know you can.’
She wiggled them and he smiled into her teary eyes. ‘Good. Feel that heat starting?’ She nodded miserably and sniffed, childlike, while tears continued streaking down her cheeks.
“Keep it in your glove and keep squishing it around. In a minute your hands will be toasty.’ After finding a pouch for her other hand he inquired, ‘blow, how about those feet?’
‘I can’t f... feel them any m... more.’
I’ve got warmers for them, too.”
She had pulled two pairs of leg warmers over her thin leather flats. Removing them, he asked, ‘Where are your boots?’
‘I... left them at sch.., school.’
‘In
‘You s... sound like my g... grandma,” she replied, making a feeble attempt at rescuing her humour.
He grinned, finding two larger pouches, agitating them to generate the chemical heat. ‘Well, sometimes grandmas know best.” in moments he had the pouches against her feet, and a pair of thick wool socks holding them in place, and had forced her to drink a good shot of brandy-laced coffee, which made her choke and cough.
‘Ugh, that stuff’s awful!’ she exclaimed, wiping her mouth.
‘I have a spare snowmobile suit. Can you get it on alone?’
‘Yes, I th... think so. I’ll try.’
‘Good girl.’
He produced a snowmobile suit, boots, mitts, mask and helmet, but she moved so slowly he helped her. ‘Young lady,’ he chided while doing so, “next time you go out on the highway in the middle of winter I hope you’ll be better prepared.’
Her sniffles had stopped and she’d warmed enough to become slightly defensive. ‘How was I supposed to know it got this bad? I’ve lived in
Seattle
my whole life.’
‘
Seattle
?’ he repeated, pulling the woollen mask onto her head and snapping a helmet strap under her chin. ‘You drove all the way from
Seattle
?’
‘No, just from
Chicago
. I go to Northwestern. I’m on my way home for Christmas.’
‘To where?’
‘Fish Creek. My mother runs an inn there.’
Seattle
,
Chicago
, Fish Creek? Standing beside the stranded automobile with the wind whipping whirlwinds of snow about them, he peered at what was visible of the girl’s face behind the mask and helmet.
‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ he murmured.
‘What?’
‘You wouldn’t be Katy Stern, would you?’
Her surprise was evident even behind the ski mask. Her eyes opened wide and stared at him.
‘You know me?’
‘I know your mother. By the way, I’m Eric.’
‘You’re Eric? Eric Severson?’
It was his turn to be surprised that Maggie’s daughter would know his last name.
‘She went to the prom with you!’
He laughed. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, she did.’
“Wow...’ Katy said, awed at the coincidence.
He laughed again and said, ‘Well, Katy, let’s get you home. ‘
He slammed her car door and led her towards the snowmobile, blazing a trail for her. Before boarding, he asked, ‘You ever ridden one of these things before?’
“No.’
“Well, it’s a little more fun when the windchill isn’t fifty five below zero, but we’ll get there as fast and warm as we can. By the way, are you hungry?’
‘Famished.’
‘Apple or candy bar?’ he asked, digging in his emergency bag.
‘Candy bar,’ she replied.
He produced the Butterfinger and started the engine while she bit into it, then straddled the seat and ordered, ‘Get on behind me and put your arms around my waist. All you have to do is lean to the inside when we go into a turn.
That way we’ll stay on the skis, okay?’
‘Okay.’ She climbed on board and wrapped her arms around his waist.
‘And stay awake!’
“I will.’
‘All set?’ he called over his shoulder.
‘All set. But Eric?’
‘What?’
‘Thank you. Thanks a lot. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.’
He thumped her mittened hands in reply. “Hang on!’ he ordered, putting the machine in gear and heading for Maggie’s house.
The name thrummed through his head - Maggie.
Maggie. Maggie- while he gripped the throttle and felt her daughter’s firm hold around his waist. Supposing they’d been a little less lucky in Easley’s orchard, the girl behind him could have been theirs.
He pictured Maggie in her kitchen, lifting aside the lace curtain on the door and peering out into the storm. Pacing the room with a sweater wrapped over her shoulders.
Checking the window again. Calling
Chicago
to inquire about Katy’s departure time. Making tea which probably went undrunk. Calling the state highway patrol office to learn the ploughs had been pulled off the road and trying not to panic. Pacing again with nobody to share her burden of worry.
Maggie, hone’, she’s okay,, I’m bringing her to you, so keep the faith.
The wind was an enemy blowing straight at their faces.
Eric hunkered behind the windshield, rode the drifts with his leg muscles burning. But he didn’t care- he was heading for Maggie’s house.
The snow fell heavier, thicker, more disorienting. He followed the telephone poles and gripped the throttle and knew he’d find the way. He was heading for Maggie’s house.
He put the cold from his mind,, concentrated instead on a warm kitchen with a long scarred table, and a woman with auburn hair waiting behind a white lace curtain, throwing open the door and her arms when she saw them coming. He had vowed to stay away from her, but fate had dictated otherwise, and his heart filled with sweet exhilaration at the thought of seeing her again.
Maggie had expected Katy around five or
, seven at the latest. By nine she’d called
Chicago
. By ten she’d called the highway patrol. By eleven she’d called her dad who could do little to ease her concern. By
, still alone and pacing, she was near tears.
At
, she gave in and went to bed in the maid’s room - the closest one to the kitchen door. The attempt at sleep proved futile, and she got up after less than an hour, put on a quilted robe, made tea and sat at the table with the window curtain thrown up over the rod. She propped her feet on a chair seat and stared out at the white vortex whirling around the verandah light.
Please let her be all right. I can’t lose her, too.
Eventually she dozed, her head propped on a swaying arm. She awakened at 1:5o to a faint faraway sound, a dull rumble approaching on the road above. A snowmobile! She put her face to the window, cupping a hand around her eyes as the sound grew louder. A headlight scanned her arborvitaes, then swept the sky like a searchlight as the machine seemed to climb the opposite side of the drift.
Suddenly the light became real. A machine appeared atop the great curl of snow, then took a steep downward plunge and headed straight for the back door.
Maggie was up and running before the engine stopped.
She threw open the door as a rider swung off the rear of the seat and a muffled voice called, ‘Mother!”
‘Katy?’ Maggie stepped out into snow up to her knees.
The creature ploughing towards her was covered in silver and black from head to foot, her face hidden by a plastic shield, but her voice was unmistakable.
‘Oh, Mom, I made it!’
‘Katy, darling, I’ve been so worried.’ Tears of relief stung Maggie’s eyes as the two exchanged an awkward hug, hampered by Katy’s bulky clothing.
‘My car skidded off the road... I was so scared.., but Eric found me.’
‘Eric?’
Maggie pulled back and looked at the driver who’d cut the engine and was swinging off the seat of the sled. He was clad in silver from head to foot, his face shidded as he moved towards the verandah steps. Reaching them, he pushed up his face shield, revealing three holes in a black ski mask. But there was no mistaking those eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, and the mouth she had recently watched at close range, drinking from a milk carton.
‘She’s okay, Maggie. You’d better go inside.’
She stared at the unearthly creature and felt her heartbeat grow erratic. ‘Eric... you?.., why?.., how?...’
‘Go on inside, Maggie, you’re freezing.’
They all thumped inside and Eric closed the door. He pulled off his helmet and mask while Katy talked nonstop.
‘The drifting got so bad, and it was blowing so hard you couldn’t see anything, and then the car spun out and I hit the ditch, and I sat there with only a tablespoon of gas left and...’ While Katy prattled she futilely tried to remove her helmet, still wearing thick gloves. Finally she cut herself short and demanded, ‘Damn it! Will somebody help me get this thing off!’ Eric stepped forward to help, laying his own helmet on the table before unsnapping hers and pulling it off her head along with her mask.
