CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Carl and Connie were making good time, a mile a minute, since getting on the highway. They were already twenty miles outside of Fond du Lac, which meant less than ten miles from Chilton. The surface of the road was dry, and there was almost no other traffic. Only a couple of cars passed them going the other way, toward Fond du Lac, and they hadn’t seen any going in their direction. About two miles ahead, County Road 151 split off from State Road 55 to the right, which was their turnoff to Chilton. Connie sat up suddenly, aware of their proximity to the final leg to Chilton. She was anxious to get to Mama and Henry’s, and she wanted nothing more than to go to sleep in Carl’s arms as soon as possible and wake up to a big breakfast where she could announce her exciting news about the baby.
Carl and Connie briefly glanced at each other a mile before their turnoff, swapping a small smile that said a lot.
“Connie,” Carl paused after saying her name, breaking into their shared silence, then searching a couple of seconds for the words he wanted, words that would probably not be ones Connie wanted to hear, “uh… I’m thinking we should just keep going, make it back to Appleton tonight.” He made the statement, expressing his sudden desire in a change of plans, but he asked it a bit like a question and then waited for her reaction.
“What?” Connie said, clearly surprised and then looked at him. “I thought we’d agreed to spend the night at Mama and Henry’s. Besides,” she continued, “it’s a lot closer than home, and… and they’re expecting us.” Connie’s mind jumped to a vision of Sunday breakfast and her announcement and all the excitement that would follow with her news about the baby.
“I know they’re expecting us, honey,” he paused, “but we stayed with them just two weeks ago, and I’ve got some stuff I want to work on tomorrow at home, you know—maybe get into the office early and change a few drawings for the Conway’s home in Menasha.”
“Can’t that wait?”
“Well… not really. I got some great ideas tonight talking to Bob Brumder—you know Bob, right?—and since I’m meeting with the Conways on Monday afternoon… well, I’d really like to have those ideas on paper for them.”
“Oh Carl,” Connie’s voice was deflated and had slipped into pleading, “I want to be with Mama and Henry this weekend… puh-leeeeze.”
“Baby, we spend a lot of time with them as it is. You know I love them.” He waited a beat. “I have to do this work. Really. It’s too important.”
“Carl, please, Carl,” she begged, feeling a desire to have her way that surprised her; its strength couldn’t be explained. “Let’s stay there tonight, and then we can leave right after breakfast.” Now both her hands were clenching his right upper arm as she leaned into him and looked into his face as he focused on the road. “Carl,” she implored him, “puh-leeeeeeze, honey, pleeeeze. We can be home by noon. That’ll give you all afternoon to work on your ideas.”
The turnoff was two hundred yards up ahead and Carl wasn’t slowing down.
“Carl, please. Turn here. Please.” Connie pleaded and pleaded, realizing just then that they were going too fast to make the turn.
“Sorry, Connie,” Carl stated, clearly his mind had been made up. “There’s just too much to do. Ruby and Henry will understand.” Carl blew past the turnoff and continued up the highway. He felt Connie’s disappointment as she slouched back into her seat. He tried to soothe her. “I’m sorry, baby. I just think we should get home tonight. You can call them first thing in the morning. Maybe next weekend we’ll come down.” The decision had been made. The turnoff had disappeared in the darkness behind them.
Connie didn’t say anything; her disappointment overwhelmed her. “This is so unlike Carl,” she thought to herself, and she resigned herself to postponing the announcement of her pregnancy, accepting his decision but not liking it. “He must have some big ideas he’s anxious to put on paper,” she told herself. With acceptance of Carl’s decision to push on, she hugged herself with the consolation that she would be in his arms in their own bed in twenty-five minutes, and they would have a delicious morning waking up together, if she didn’t have a bout of morning sickness, something Carl hadn’t yet noticed. They didn’t say another word to each other. Connie acquiesced, folded her hands over her tummy, thinking of the life growing inside of her, then closed her eyes and whispered, “I love you, Carl."
Carl kept the pace up, cruising steadily at five miles over the limit. He expected they’d be home in twenty minutes, especially with no traffic. They flew north, cutting through the dark night with only their headlights leading the way. A minute later, while he was taking a curve in the road, he glanced at his beautiful sleeping wife, and in the instant when his eyes returned to the road, he saw something big and dark, illuminated in his headlights, dead center in front of him, right in his path, just a few feet out there. He screamed because he suddenly knew what it was before he even had a chance to hit the brakes—but knowing didn’t make a difference. Connie instinctively jumped to alertness, opened her eyes, roused from her stupor, and looked at Carl, all this in less than a second.
Nothing made a difference. It was too late; the collision was underway. She watched as Carl flew through the windshield in an explosion of broken glass, headfirst into the chassis of Bill Jankowicz’s truck. Connie went with Carl, doing the same, together. It all happened so fast—and then, it was over. The cold darkness engulfed them, but winter’s bone-chilling cold would never be as cold as death.
∞
A Love Story with a Little Heartbreak Page 14