Dorothy Garlock (14 page)

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Authors: More Than Memory

BOOK: Dorothy Garlock
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“What’s happened?” she asked, so frightened that she hadn’t noticed the cold floor.
“Hell of an ice storm. The electricity is out. Phones are dead. I tried to call you earlier and the damn line was busy. Boyfriend again?”
“No. I left it . . . I forgot to hang it up. What time is it?”
“Four-thirty. Don’t flush the toilet until you just have to. Once the tank is empty it won’t fill. Without electricity the pump doesn’t run, nor the forced-air furnace. Cripes, I forgot about this electric range. It’s going to be really cold in here in a little while. Get upstairs and put some clothes on.”
Nelda went to the living room and brought a scented candle in a glass jar from the coffee table. Lute took a book of matches from his pocket, struck one, and lit it. With a little more light, Nelda would see that his face was red from the cold.
“How cold is it?”
“Ten below. Are there any oil lamps around here?”
“There’s one in a bedroom upstairs.”
“After you dress, bring it down. I’m going to check on my horses, and I’ll bring in the can of kerosene from the barn. I need some light to check the chimney on that cookstove before I build a fire in it.” He went to the door and Kelly followed him out.
Nelda picked up her candle and headed for the stairs. Would she ever understand this man? They
hadn’t exchanged a word for weeks, and here he was in her house in the early-morning hours taking charge as if he lived here.

 

 

C
hapter
E
ight
L
UTE CAME IN CARRYING A LOAD OF SCRAP WOOD
from the barn and a big red can. From the can he filled the lamp that Nelda had brought down from the upstairs bedroom. The light bathed the kitchen in a warm glow.
Working swiftly, he stuffed paper and kindling in the firebox of the cookstove and put a match to it. When it began to blaze, he added pieces of the scrap lumber, and soon the fire was popping and crackling and giving off heat. He closed the door of the firebox and adjusted the damper on the tin stovepipe.
“I threw firewood in the back of the pickup before I left home. I’ll bring it in.”
Lute’s eyes flashed over her before he went out the door, noting her wool slacks and heavy wool sweater. Her face was pale, and she had dark circles under her eyes as if she’d been up all night, as he had been.
He had called her over a period of an hour when he realized that there was the possibility the power
would go off. Getting the busy signal at that time of night meant that she must be talking to someone very important to her, more than likely the nightclub owner in Chicago. What the hell kind of man would have a name like Aldus?
Damn her! Why did she have to come back? I was on the verge of falling in love with Meredith and asking her to marry me. She would be the ideal wife for a farmer
.
Lute made three trips to the pickup to bring in wood for the cook stove.
“My wood is cut for the fireplace. I had to scrounge around to find some smaller stuff.” He took off his gloves and his heavy sheepskin coat and hung it on the back of the chair. “We’ve got to keep heat in here or the pipes will freeze, and you’ll have a real mess. We can’t drain them completely just by opening the taps. If I could have got through to you . . . on the phone” — his tone was accusing—“I would have told you to draw some water to have on hand.”
Nelda stood beside the stove saying nothing. Lute looked at her with a tilt to his head.
“You sick or something?”
“No. This came on so suddenly that I’m . . . that I just don’t know what to do.”
“I figured you wouldn’t. That’s why I’m here.”
“Shouldn’t you be with your mother?”
“She’s in California for the winter. A friend who’s there will keep the fireplaces going.”
“A . . . friend?”
“Yes. He came up from Des Moines to hunt
pheasants. Did you think I had a girlfriend over there? If I had, I’d certainly not have left her to come over here and freeze my rear off trying to keep your pipes from freezing.”
“I wouldn’t have expected you to.” She turned her back and held her hands over the warm stove. If he hated her so much, why was he still wearing the wedding ring?
She wanted to cry.
“The wind is coming up; and with the wires and branches covered with a coat of ice, there’ll be more outages.” Lute took a bottle of water from the refrigerator and poured it into a pan and set it on the stove. “Get some pans and we’ll drain the water out of the pipes. Where’s the coffee?”
“On the shelf above the range. There’s a drip coffeepot there, too.” She took a large kettle from a lower cupboard and placed it on the counter. “Is this big enough?”
Nelda sat down on a chair and watched him. Kelly came close and sat beside her. Automatically her hand began to stroke his head. Lute was perfectly at ease in her house. She had never even been in his. Thinking about it, she became so depressed, she shivered.
“Are you cold?”
Did he have eyes in the back of his head?
“I’ve been warmer.”
“If you don’t have any long johns, you should put on several layers of clothing. A couple pair of slacks, and a light sweater or two under the heavy one.”
In the silence that followed Nelda heard the ice-covered branches scraping the house. It was eerie in the kitchen with Lute. The furniture in the flickering lamplight cast strange shadows, making her feel that they were living in another time. This was how a bitterly cold night had been for pioneer women, for her grandmother when she was young, dependent on her man, needing him to take care of her.
She looked to see Lute gazing at her. What was going on in that blond head under the knit cap?
“Coffee in a minute. It’ll warm you up.” He lifted his coat from the back of the chair and draped it around her shoulders. “When daylight comes, I’ll have to go back over to the farm and see that my livestock have feed and water.”
“Will your horses be all right?”
“The barn is good and tight, and there are a couple of barrels of water that’ll last for a while.” He lifted two cups down from the cabinet and set them on the back of the stove to warm. He chucked another piece of split log into the firebox, then opened the door of the oven and pulled a kitchen chair over to it. “Come sit over here. Feel the heat coming from the oven? I wish Mom had kept our old cookstove. I just may have to buy one.”
When Lute put the cup of hot coffee in her hands, she looked up at him with bleak eyes.
“You don’t have to stay, Lute. I can keep the fire going. I appreciate your coming and bringing the wood.”
“You want me to go?” he asked quietly, his eyes holding hers.
“No. I didn’t mean that. Just because I’m here alone, I don’t want you to feel obligated to come over here to help me when you’re needed at home.”
“Don’t worry about that. I look after my own first.” He turned back to pick up his coffee mug, cupping it in his two hands. He moved over to the far side of the room to look out the window. Dawn had lit the eastern sky. “Wires will be whipping and breaking in this wind. Already a couple of limbs are down. The danger is that someone may come in contact with a hot wire and be electrocuted.”
Why in the hell did he continue to say cruel things to her? he asked himself. The words just seemed to seep out of the depth of his bitterness. He had been hurt so damn bad! He hadn’t wanted her to come back. He hadn’t wanted ever to see her again. She didn’t intend to stay here. She was worming her way into his heart and would break it again.
Hell. She’d never left a small corner of it, even when he was sure that he hated her.
When he heard about the ice storm coming, he’d worked most of the night taking care of his own place so he could come here. The thought of her being alone, cold and scared, would have brought him here if he’d had to crawl. He didn’t dare let her know that. She already had a tight enough hold on him.
He turned wearily from the window and looked at her. She sat huddled beside the open oven door of the cookstove, her hand buried in the fur around Kelly’s neck.
“Are all the storm windows down good and tight?”
“I did that some time ago. I couldn’t budge a couple of them. Mr. Olsen helped me. He squirted something on the tracks that made them slide more easily.”
Lute snorted. “And probably told everyone in the township about it.”
Nelda glanced at him and then looked away. He had something sarcastic to say about everything she said or did. She swallowed hard and concentrated on not letting him see the deep ache within her, even though her eyes misted over at the anger he showed in his caustic comments.
“Are you hungry?”
“No. Fix something for yourself if you want. There’s bacon and eggs.”
“I’ll eat when I go home to do chores.” He straddled a chair and rested his arms on the back. “When you put wood in the firebox, put in one chunk at a time. You don’t want to build up too big a blaze.”
“I’ll remember.”
Go. Please go. I don’t want you to see me cry
.
Finally, Lute stood and reached for his coat. “It’s getting light. I’ll go on home. When I come back I’ll bring more wood and a battery-powered radio.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“Don’t you want to hear the news?”
“I can go out to the car—”
“Don’t go out. You could fall on the ice, lie there, and freeze to death in a couple of hours. It’s slicker
than greased lightning out there. I’ll bring you a radio.”
“All right,” she said.
What was the matter with her? She was as docile as a lamb all of a sudden. It’s as if the fight had been taken out of her. He studied her face. It was devoid of expression.
“Are you sure you’re not sick?”
“I’m not sick. I’m tired.”
“Well, don’t go to sleep and let the fire go out.” He was putting on his gloves.
This final order was the last straw! Nelda looked up at him. “You think because I’ve lived in a city for most of my life that I’m not smart enough to keep a fire going when it’s ten below outside. My survival instincts are just as strong as yours. As long as there is anything in this house made of wood, the fire will not go out.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He went to the door, turned to look at the back of her head. “I’ll be back.”
Nelda sat rigidly in the chair until she heard his pickup start. She went to the window and watched his truck creep along the icy lane to the road.
Tears rolled slowly down her cheeks.
• • •
When the light of day entered the kitchen, Nelda blew out the oil lamp and left the warmth of the cookstove to go up to her bedroom. Hurriedly, she gathered up a couple of sweaters, two pairs of pajama pants to put on under the slacks, a couple pairs of socks, and Kelly’s bed.
Back in the kitchen she placed the cold pajama
pants on the oven door to warm them before stripping and pulling them on. After re-dressing, she heated a small amount of water and made a cup of tea. Carrying the cup with her, she went from window to window looking out on the winter wonderland.
Everything was covered with a thick layer of ice. The tree branches drooped with the weight of it. The electric and telephone wires coming from the road to the house were heavy with ice and swaying in the wind.
Nelda felt terribly alone and isolated in her icy prison. She was grateful that Lute had come, even if he had felt obligated because she was a neighbor.
If I’d had a lady friend, do you think I’d have left her to come over here and freeze my rear—
His words had cut her to the quick.
Kelly whined at the door.
“Do you need to go out?” Nelda opened the kitchen door, then closed it behind her while she crossed the porch to let the dog out. “Hurry, Kelly.”
The dog reached the bottom of the steps, fell, and started sliding. He slid on his rear, yelping in surprise. He tried to stand several times before he could stay on his feet. Nelda watched him through the door pane. When he made his way carefully back to the steps, Nelda opened the door, grabbed his collar, and helped him up onto the porch.

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