Shelf Life (22 page)

chapter thirty-nine

“W
hat's your name?"

"Um..." After a few tries, she asks, "Lindsey?"

"Good. Yes, it's Lindsey."

I want to ask her more questions, but I need to focus on the road, which is getting worse by the minute. The ice is thicker than it was when I left, plus I'm fucking exhausted. The cold rain has soaked through my clothes but until now, I didn't even feel it. As the adrenaline fades, fatigue settles in. I can only imagine how Lindsey feels with her injuries or whatever the hell's going on in addition. Hopefully, Mom will be able to help her while I finish securing the farm. At least I can rest easy knowing the girls aren't stuck in this. The chickens can fend for themselves for all I care.
Mmm, chicken.

My brain goes sideways for a second, thinking of a hot shower and big chicken dinner that Mom probably has waiting. Surely, Lindsey's not that bad and will come around. We've all knocked our heads before. Hell, I've seen her fall ten feet out of a tree and just shake it off. She's no pansy. Nope, my girl's tough as nails.

"You hungry?"

"No."

"Tired?"

"Yes.
Very tired."

"Okay, but don't close your eyes or fall asleep, you hear me? Not until we've gotten you checked out."

"Okay," she mumbles and I glance over just in time to see her eyes drift closed. I take my hand off the wheel to shake her arm, but a strong gust of wind blows the sleet sideways and it's sticking to the windshield. The blower's on as high as it'll go and the wipers are flapping back and forth, but the drops are glued to the windshield. What I need is a scraper. No time to stop and scrape. Got to keep moving forward toward home.

Home
. I can't do this alone, this life thing. I realize that now, and even if I am capable of going it alone, I don't want to. Not because I can't, but because it means so much more with your family around you. Lindsey's not technically family, but she might as well be. And hell, who knows, she might be family one day if I put a ring on her finger. She'd make an excellent wife and farmer. I can see us working side by side for the next sixty or so years. Yeah, there would be some wicked fights, but if that evening in the hayloft is any indication, the make-up sex will be worth the terror.

God, what the hell am I thinking? Now really isn't the time for this.

I shake Lindsey's arm again and she rouses just a bit.

"
Wakey, wakey, sleepyhead."

"I'm awake."

"You sure?"

She licks her lips longer than necessary then purses them. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't know."

"You're not making much sense," I tell her, taking my eyes off the road for a few seconds to glance at her expression.

"Where?"

"Where are we?"

"Yeah," she says, yawning.

"In my truck on the way to my house."

"Why?" She licks her lips a couple more times.

"You really don't remember?"

"No."

"You decided to be a hero and tried to drive home in your Monte Carlo. You must have slid off the road because I found you in your car in a ditch. From this conversation, I'm thinking you hit your head pretty good, too."

"No."

"No, what?"

"Didn't hit my head."

"How do you know?

There’s a long pause. I count the passing trees while I wait for her answer, not sure that it’ll come.

"Just do," she finally says.

"Okay.
Anything else coming back to you?"

"Got tingly and then..."

"And then," I prompt her when she turns to stare out the window.

"Don't remember."

"What's the first thing you remember after waking up?"

"This.
Now."

Double-stuffed
shit
. "You don't remember me dragging you out of the car and shoving you into the Explorer?"

She shakes her head and takes a deep breath.

"You don't remember me dumping you on your ass in the snow, either?" Again, she shakes her head, but at least I'm rewarded with a hint of a smile this time.

"Nothing."

"You're scaring me, Linds."

"I know," she says, rubbing her forehead.
"Me, too."

We drive the rest of the way in silence, watching the frozen trees sway in the wind. Every now and then the quiet is punctuated by the cracking of a tree. Who knows how many will be down by morning.

The Explorer hits a bump and my head bounces off the roof. I drive a few more feet, but that bump nags at the back of my mind. What if I hit a dog or cat? Against the rational part of my brain, I stop the truck and dash out into the night. Maybe I'm just as messed up in the head as Lindsey.

I slowly creep behind the truck and peek at whatever it was I hit. In the red glow of the tail lights, I see a long, thin shadow that turns out to be a branch when I kick it. I drag it off the road and turn back to the Explorer. That's when I notice the back left tire. It's nearly flat.

"Son of a bitch!" For emphasis, I kick it. Fortunately, it's rather soft so it doesn't really hurt. That, and my toes are numb. Ain't no way I'm stopping to change a tire in this storm. Can't be more than a mile to the driveway, and surely I can limp this mofo home.

Back in the Explorer, I find Lindsey with her eyes closed, soft snores filling the cab with their cuteness. Seriously, it's the prettiest thing I've heard all day, which tells you what kind of day it's been. At least it
means she's not unconscious. You can't snore when you're unconscious, can you? Surely not.

With the Explorer back in drive, we creep forward, me wincing with every rhythmic
thump-thump
. The sleet hasn't let up yet, but it's more snow than rain, now. I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not. It's a wet snow, so chances are, it'll just add weight to the ice-coated branches. I hope to hell that the barn is holding up.

The truck groans and wobbles on its three good tires, which, thankfully, are doing okay on the ice. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. I nearly kick myself for the thought, knowing damn well that as soon as I think that, Murphy's Law will swoop down and kick my frozen ass.

Another minute passes with no problems. Up ahead, the snow lightens, then lightens more. Headlights diffuse the flying flakes. At the rate they grow brighter, the vehicle they belong to is moving fast. The road's too narrow for both of us to safely pass.

"
Damn it!
"

I move to the right, but the vehicle barely misses us, and son of a bitch, it's a white pick-up truck with a large logo on the side. It's got to be Jay. No way
his old man is stupid enough to drive that fast in this weather. If he doesn't kill himself, he's going to take out someone else. Thankfully, it's not going to be me. I chuckle a little when I realize he's headed in the opposite direction, obviously trying to get to town. I moved that small branch off the road, but he's got to contend with the massive maple that fell near the feed mill. Stupid prick. I'd love to see the look on his face when he realizes he's trapped and has to turn around.

Just then, the heavens open and our mailbox
comes into view. I swing left a little and turn right into the driveway. The Explorer is thumping for all it's worth. No question we're riding on the rim. Dad will be pissed, but judging by Lindsey's current state, he can go fuck himself if he gives me any guff.

To my relief, both he and Mom are waiting on the front porch with the door open when I pull up.

She shields her eyes from the snow. "You okay? We were so worried when we heard."

"Heard what?"

"That terrible noise! Didn't you hear it?"

"No. Help me get Lindsey into the house."

"She okay?"

"No, she ran into a ditch and she's acting funny. I think she's got a concussion."

We work in perfect sync, Mom sliding Lindsey's arm over her shoulder while I help pull her out and lower her feet to the ground.

"Can you stand?" I ask her. She nods.

"Put your other arm over my shoulder."

Together, Mom and I shuffle Lindsey up the steps and into the warm kitchen. I've never been so happy to be home. Dad goes into military medic mode, removing Lindsey's coat, shoes and socks. He turns to me, barking, "Get them wet clothes off.
Now. Then go sit by the fire and gently rub your toes. I'll take care of girlie, here."

chapter forty

For a beat, I stare at my father, whose eyes are clear as day. There are no traces of his ailment, nothing. It's a little scary seeing him so in control, and I wonder if this is how he was in the war zone. Was he always on high alert? I'm exhausted after just an hour. I can't imagine being this way twenty-four hours a day.

I nod and drop my clothes in the utility sink in the mudroom. Mom puts her hands on my shoulders and guides me to the hearth.

"Sit, son. You did great, but you can relax now."

Except I can't.
"Will she be all right? She was acting really funny and wouldn't talk or move or anything. It's as if she was in a coma, you know? And when I got her into the truck, she kept nodding off. And she didn't even remember anything. Not the crash, and not me pulling her out of the car."

Mom nods, purses her lips, then walks back into the kitchen. I hear them talking and see the back of Lindsey's head where she sits at the kitchen table. Dad's whispering something to her, and pulls a tiny flashlight out of his front pocket.
Always prepared, that man. He quickly flashes into one eye, then the other. He smiles and I relax.

For the first time tonight, I feel sensation again. My head begins to pound and there's fire in my fingers and toes, similar to when your arms fall asleep, except there's this weird rubbery feeling on top of it
all. I look down and the tips of my fingers are white with a yellowish tinge.

I gently rub them together and blow on them. The fire feels good on my back and my ass, but it's too much for my fingers. I bend down and touch my toes. They're still completely numb, but they don't look as bad as my fingers.

I glance back at the kitchen and see Mom and Dad pointing toward the door and whispering furiously. This can't be good.

"What's wrong with her?"

Mom plasters on a smile that I can see right through. "Nothing, dear. It's fine. Lindsey's fine. Dad doesn't think she has a concussion, and her memory's coming back. Just a little groggy, right hon?"

"Yeah," Lindsey agrees, but she looks away.

"Tell me the truth, Lindsey. Are you okay?"

"Yes! I'm fine. Stop fussing, will you? I was in an accident,
gimme a break."

"I want the truth. I'll ask one more time. Are you okay?"

She tilts her head, takes a deep breath, and then exhales through her nose. That, more than anything, tells me my Lindsey is back. Inside my chest, my heart does a jig.

"I'm okay, I promise." And she seems so sure of herself that I believe her.

"Then what were you two arguing about?"

Mom and Dad exchange a look I can't read. Dad finally meets my eyes with his. "We were listening to the emergency radio while you were gone. There's a big tree down across the road to town."

"Yeah, we know. It fell right behind the Explorer."

All the color drains from Mom's face. I stand a little taller.

"That's not all."

"Okay.
All the paramedics and firefighters running around?"

Dad nods. "Yes, but there’s something else and we're trying to figure out what to do.
Seems the power's out over at the Leaher's."

"So? That's their problem."

"That kind of mindset will get you killed one day," Dad says. "A prepared community is a safe community. Haven't I taught you anything?"

I roll my eyes. "Anyway..."

"Anyway," Dad says, "the power's out, so that means they've got ten-thousand head of cattle that need milked."

"They've got a generator.
Probably an entire back-up system. Again, I fail to see why this is our problem." Then I remember the Leaher truck barreling toward town. My stomach sinks.

Dad grimaces. "The back-up system got destroyed when those large pines surrounding the property came crashing down. The noise came over the radio, and let me tell you, it could have been Armageddon. I nearly lost my
shit and went commando."

I snicker, but not for the reason he thinks. I ask, "How do you know the pines fell?"

"Because Mrs. Leaher was sobbing into the radio when one of them crashed."

"Are you psychic? How do you know this?"

"Because she screamed and then her radio went dead."

Oh, crap
. I feel a twinge of dread mixed with guilt and a butt-ton of apprehension because guess who's going to have to go investigate?

"And you guys want me to go," I say, already knowing the answer.

"Well," Mom looks at Dad, "Sarah went over on the ATV to check it out. That was at least thirty minutes ago. She should have been there already.”

Dad limps around the kitchen, tugging on his beard and muttering under his breath. He pivots and points his finger at us, saying, "I should be out there. I'm the one who always preaches about being prepared and helping your neighbor. Instead, I'm sitting on my ass while my kids put their lives on the line."

"Dad—"

"No, it
ain't right. It was bad enough during the planting season and harvest, but this is too much. Here's what we're going to do. You—" But he never finishes his sentence. The front door bursts open, slamming against the wall behind it, sounding just like a gunshot.

Dad hits the ground and all hell breaks loose as he crawls on his hands and knees under the kitchen table, dragging his bad leg behind him. He begins barking orders at men we can’t see. I want to cry and slap him at the same time.

Instead, I turn my focus to Sarah, who’s shaking so hard the floor vibrates under her. Ignoring Dad, Mom places her hands on either side of Sarah's face, which is devoid of the mask of attitude she usually wears. It's weird to see her looking like the high school kid that she is. A drug-dealing bitch of a kid, but my sister nonetheless.

Mom continues to touch Sarah. Finally, Sarah stands up straighter and opens her mouth.
"Dead. So many dead cows."

Lindsey gasps.

"Did you talk to any of the family or workers?" Mom asks.

Sarah nods. "Mr. Leaher was trying to round them up and get as many as he could into the barns, but it was so slippery and dark."

"Were you able to help?"

She shakes her head. "Jay told me to go home."
Disgusting. Even in an emergency his royal asshat shines through. "But then there was this loud noise. It was all around us. Swear to God I thought all the trees in the woods were coming down or the barns were collapsing."

Mom nods. "We heard it from Mrs. Leaher."

The blood that had been rushing back into Sarah's cheeks drains. "I don't think she made it," she whispers.

"What?" We all say at the same time.
All except Dad. He's got his hands over his head.

Sarah bites her lip then begins to cry. "The noise, it was a tree, but it didn't crash on the barn. It was the big maple tree near the house. It was so beautiful, covered in ice like a crystal figurine or something out of a fairytale."

Mom pulls Sarah into a chair, rubbing her hands up and down Sarah's arms. "It's okay, honey. Tell us what happened."

My sister sniffs and looks at the floor. "The tree fell on the back of the house. Mr. Leaher screamed and the cattle got upset. He was yelling for Mrs.
Leaher and began running toward the house. Jay didn't move. He just stood there with his mouth open, tasting the snow. I'm pretty sure she's dead, Mom. I think Mrs. Leaher is dead.”