The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake (18 page)
“Great,” I said, pointing toward the coffee shop next door, which was surprisingly open. Probably so they could serve the rescue and cleanup crews heading this way. “Might as well have breakfast while we wait.”
An hour later, after we’d eaten a round of baked German pancakes
with almond topping, the weather was still not cooperating.
Wade pulled on his coat and walked outside to the parking lot to talk to some of the county workers who’d started to gather. I watched the men while I made a few calls on my cell phone.
“Any word from the Dippels?” I asked Dad.
“No one’s heard a thing,” he told me. “How are things going up there?”
“Everything’s shut down for now. Though I’m hoping to get going soon.”
“We’re praying for you, Donna.”
“Uh, thanks, Dad.” I shook my head.
Dad prays? This is news
to me.
After I hung up, I approached Wade, who looked like an iced version of himself, as his down parka sported a coating of snow.
“Any news?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I have to admit I’m worried.”
“Have you talked to the local sheriff ’s department?” he asked.
“Yeah. They confirmed what we already knew. There was a second avalanche in the night. We won’t be allowed in till the snow lets up and after they shoot off some of their avalanche cannons located on a few of the ridges in the area.”
“Good idea. The sound waves will either bring down more slides or prove the snow’s stable enough for our snowmobiles.”
“Yeah, as long as it doesn’t pull down a slide on the Dippels.”
I rubbed my gloved hands together, feeling the icy pelts of snow on my face. “It’s freezing out here, and we could be waiting for hours. I think I’ll go inside.”
“I’ll join you,” Wade said. He grinned down at me. “At least inside I can enjoy the view.”
Like a lazy game of checkers, the day slowly played by. The snow didn’t let up till noon, and even then the powers that be wouldn’t give Wade and me the go-ahead to ride our snowmobiles into the upper valley until after three.
When we’d finally been given the green light, we only had a couple of daylight hours left. Wade unloaded the machines and
checked our emergency supplies. He tossed me a helmet.
“As I’m a more experienced rider, I’ll take lead. So stay close. There might be some tricky spots, and I don’t want either one of us to get stuck, plus we don’t want to trigger any more slides.”
He tossed me an emergency beacon. “Turn this on. At least they’d know where to find us if we get buried.” Then he grabbed my hand. “Let’s pray first,” he said, without giving me a chance to argue. I bowed my head as he said, “Father, guide us, keep us safe. Help us to lead the Dippels to safety. In the name of Jesus.”
I couldn’t argue with a prayer like that, so I said the only thing I could say. “Amen.”
Wade grinned at me. “I’m one of the few people who knows you’re a heathen, Donna. So I thank you for allowing me to pray. It makes me think there may be hope for you yet.”
I put on my helmet in an effort to hide my irritation. “Ah, thanks, Wade.”
“Ready to ride?”
“Let’s go,” I shouted as my motor roared to life.
With the sun out, the glare from the white snow was blinding. I was glad for the tinted ski goggles Wade had given me. They worked well to keep both the bitter wind as well as the bright sun out of my eyes.
The cold was going to be a problem, especially as the mountain shadows stretched between the patches of afternoon sun. How I wished for a pair of ski pants to slide over my uniform pants to cut the arctic air.
I decided to disregard the wind chill, which was probably hovering around ten below, as Wade and I raced out of the parking lot and onto the snow-covered road winding up toward the pass. Though the pass was completely blocked, we managed to shovel and pick our way through, around, and over the mounds of rocks and snow as our machines roared beneath us. I counted each dip and bounce through the wavy white ripples as a milestone bringing us closer to the Dippels.
The cold wind stung my cheeks and filled each breath with air so icy my chest literally ached. Still, the ride was exhilarating. Wade drove just ahead of me, creating a trail, a rut for my sled to follow. Periodically, he would turn back to check on me, and I’d wave to show I was fine. In fact, I was more than fine. Despite the danger and the cold, I was actually enjoying myself.
Soon, we’d made it through the slide area and tried to follow what should be the road, up the valley hill to the Moore cabin. I let out a whoop when I saw the bungalow.
We brought our machines to a halt and stared. Another slide, just to the west of the cabin, had come close to burying it.
I gazed at the second slide, not to mention the deep snow drifts, and realized Jack’s car must be completely buried beneath the blanket that seemed to have knit the little house inside a winter’s white turtleneck sweater. Only the tops of the windows peeked out, like eyes beneath a white cap.
Holy moly.
We parked the vehicles. If Goldie and Jack were in that cabin, they’d know help had arrived because of the sound of our motors droning up the valley.
“Goldie! Jack!” I called.
No answer.
Wade’s voice joined with mine. “Goldie! Jack! Are you in there?”
The front door opened. The only reason we knew was because the snowdrift that nestled against the house shifted a bit then slid forward. We watched as Jack’s head appeared as he climbed on top of the mountainous lump of snow that blocked his exit. He waved then helped Goldie as she scrambled up beside him. He slipped an arm around her and pulled her close. She didn’t try to pull away, I noted.
I smiled with relief. It was good to see them looking so... so healthy. And not just healthy, those two looked... happy? Their
cheeks glowed with excitement as they cheered our arrival.
I guess Wade and I were cheering too, because I was suddenly caught in Wade’s warm embrace as he wrapped me in his arms. Our eyes locked, and my heart literally stopped as his breath mingled with mine.
For an instant, I felt all of seventeen.
Wade immediately let go, as if nothing had happened between us, and ran toward the Dippels. I soon followed, stepping into his
footprints as he post-holed through waist-deep snow.
“Donna, Wade,” Goldie called to us as she and Jack slid down the drift toward us. When we met, I gave her a hug. “I am so glad to see you two,” I said as Wade and Jack shook hands and slapped each other on the back.
“You don’t know how glad we are to see you too,” Goldie responded.
I pulled back. “You and Jack ready to get out of here?”
Wade checked his watch. “It’s time, folks. We only have half an hour of daylight left. Grab only what you need, wallet and coats, gloves, hats, and lock up. You can pick up everything else, including the car, after the spring thaw.”
Jack climbed back inside the house and was soon back with the necessary items. Moments later, with Jack hanging on to Wade and Goldie clinging to me, we were off, racing against the darkness and the snowdrifts that blocked our path. We moved as fast as we dared. The last thing we needed was to get stuck on that avalanche
field after dark.
Forty-five minutes later, the lights of the little town of Summit Ridge winked at us as we picked our way across the boulder field
under a full moon that was just starting to rise.
When we pulled into the parking lot, I called Dad to report the good news. When I finished, I said, “Could you pass this report to
both Vonnie and Clay?”
I handed Goldie my cell phone. “I imagine you have a couple
of calls you’ll want to make,” I said.
She grinned. “How’d you know?” She turned her back to her husband, who was climbing off the back of Wade’s snowmobile, and crossed her arms as if trying to size him up. “How’d you know?”
Clay was hard at work, typing out the story as he knew it so far. The Dippels had gone away for a couple of days to sort out their marital problems. They were staying at the Moore cabin, and the snowslide had been caused by the unseasonably high snowfall.
He reached for the phone book buried under a stack of old papers in the far left corner of his office desk. Flipping a few pages he found the number he was looking for, then picked up the handset of the phone and dialed out. Seconds later, Goldie Dippel answered.
“Good morning, Chris Lowe’s office,” she said.
“Mrs. Dippel, Clay Whitefield. How are you this morning?”
“Grateful to be alive,” she answered with a chuckle. “God is good.”
Clay nodded. “That’s what I keep hearing. Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you need to speak with Mr. Lowe?”
“No. Ah, actually, I wanted to talk to you if you have time. Later on.”
“Me?”
Clay smiled at her surprise. “Yes, ma’am,” he repeated. “I’d like to talk to you about the snowslide. About how you and the coach survived it all. About the rescue.”
“Only by the grace of God. We came awfully close to being completely snowed under. But I suppose you’ve talked to Donna,” she said.
“She’s next on my list,” Clay answered, then closed his eyes momentarily.
Donna... if she only knew what I know.
“How about tomorrow afternoon after work?” she asked. “I can
meet you at Higher Grounds.”
“You said the magic words,” Clay said with a laugh. “I’ll see you then.”
He called Donna next. “Got a statement for me, Deputy?” he asked her when she answered.
“Good morning to you too,” she said curtly.
“I was surprised not to see you at the café this morning.”
“I’m a bit tired,” she answered.
“So, when’s a good time to talk?” he asked, pulling his PDA toward him, poised to enter in his appointment with Goldie Dippel and Donna.
“Can a girl have a day off?” she asked.
“Yes, you may,” he said with a laugh. “I’m meeting Mrs. Dippel tomorrow afternoon. What if you both meet me at about five
down at the café?”
He heard her groan, though a bit dramatically. “Fiiiiiiine.”
He chuckled again. “You okay otherwise?” He entered the date.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” she asked.
“Just asking.” He slid the PDA across his desk.
“No, you aren’t. You’re up to something.”
Don’t ask
, he thought.
“Is this about me and Wade? Because if it is, quite frankly, my friend, it really is none of your business. I’ll tell you like I told him: separate rooms.”
Clay closed his eyes and opened them quickly. “Ah, well... that’s nice to know. Wasn’t what I was getting at, but...”
He heard his computer “click,” an indication he had a new email. With his free hand he shifted the mouse and glanced over at the screen. It was from Britney. He smiled.
What timing
, he thought.
Lizzie
I woke up with the knowledge that my friend Goldie was alive and well, a wonderful way to start any day. She and I had spoken on the phone just after eleven the night before, she and Jack having just arrived back in Summit View.
“Other than the avalanche, how’d it go?” I asked her, turning on my side so as not to bother Samuel too terribly much.
“Not so good,” she said.
“Where are you?”
“Home. My home, not Jack’s.”
Jack’s. For many years it had been
her
home. I sighed. I guess deep down I’d hoped for so much more. “So no reconciliation?”
She was quiet for a moment, then said, “No. We’re moving toward it, though.”
“That sounds good. It’s a start, anyway.”
She remained quiet, as though there was something pressing on her mind, something she wanted to say but wasn’t sure how to say it. “Listen, Lizzie. I really need to talk to someone, and now’s obviously not the time. I called you as soon as I got safely in the house, and now I need to shower. To wash the last couple of days off of me. Can you meet me after work tomorrow?”
I thought of the time. Goldie didn’t get off until five o’clock. By then I’d really need to be home preparing dinner for the family. But Goldie sounded as though she really needed me, so I relented. “Sure. I won’t have long, but maybe we can grab a cup of tea or some coffee over at Higher Grounds.”
We ended the phone call with a “see you then.” I replaced the phone’s handset and then rolled over onto my back.
“They didn’t get back together, did they?” Samuel asked from his side of the bed.
I patted his backside with my hand and closed my eyes. “No. They didn’t.”
Samuel let out a pent-up breath. “They’ve got a lot to get over, Liz. He’s got to stay in therapy, and she’s got to let go of the past.”
I didn’t say anything. I didn’t have the right to; I’d never been through anything like what Goldie had been through. I patted Samuel’s backside again and said, “Go to sleep. Tomorrow’s another day, we’ve got to go to work, and somehow I still need to find a decent place for Mother to live before Mildred comes home from the hospital next week.”
