A Flicker of Light

by Katie Powner

  She hurries toward her car, looking back every five seconds to shout, “Don’t move.” Like I’m a child or an injured puppy. I wonder what my son is doing now. Is he cold on the mountain? Oh, God, I hope he’s not alone. You’re with him, aren’t you? Of course. You would never make him suffer for my sins.

  The silver car pulls up beside me with the passenger window down.

  “Please get in,” the woman says. “We’ll get you all warmed up.”

  We? I check the back seat. There’s no one else in there. This lady must be crazy. But she has a car, and I don’t. I open the door.

  “Come on, let’s get you home.”

  I shut the door and step back. “No. I can’t go home.”

  She puts the car in park, jumps out, and hurries over to me. “Grandma, please. Let me take you home.”

  Now I know she’s crazy. I’m not anybody’s grandma. Not yet. This woman shouldn’t be out here by herself.

  She opens the passenger door again, but I stand my ground. “I have to go up the mountain. I have to find him.”

  She shivers against the cold. Poor thing should put a coat on. I can see one right there on the front seat, yet she doesn’t have enough sense to put it on.

  “Find who?” she asks. “Grandpa?”

  I don’t want to tell her the truth, so I just nod.

  She narrows her eyes. “Where is he?”

  “There’s a light up there.” I point about halfway between the foothills and Hardscrabble Peak. “You can’t see it right now, but that’s where he is.”

  I’m sure of it. There, tucked away safely in the folds of the mountain, lies the greatest treasure in the world.

  Her face contorts as she looks at me, then her shoulders slump. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “I’ll take you wherever you want to go, as long as you’ll get in the car.”

  I study her for a moment. Even though she’s crazy, something tells me I can trust her. As if I knew her before, in a different life. She steps aside, and I sink low to slide into the passenger seat. I’ve never been in such a short car before. The woman scoots around the front and gets in behind the wheel, shutting the door with a thud and a gust of air. Her hands are red from the cold as she shifts the car into drive. I give the coat that now sits between us a meaningful look but don’t say anything. If she wants to freeze to death, that’s her business.

  “To the mountain?” She looks at me for reassurance, fear in her eyes. Poor dear.

  I nod. “To the mountain.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  One time, years ago, after he and Caroline first bought their house in Moose Creek, Mitch drove to his parents’ house in record time after receiving a call from his mother that his father had been thrown from his horse and was dangling from a barbwire fence. By the time Mitch arrived, his father had cut himself free with the knife on his belt despite a dislocated right shoulder and had given his horse a dressing down that caused the mare to hang her head in remorse.

  Dad had been angry that Mom had bothered Mitch over “such a silly thing.” Mitch had insisted on taking him to the clinic, but Dad had rammed his shoulder into the side of the house on the way to the truck and popped it back into place. His mother had fussed over him at first but had eventually taken Dad’s side. “Now he can finish his chores before dark,” she’d said. “Everything’s fine.”

  This time was different. As his truck charged down his parents’ gravel drive, Mitch knew things were not fine. Would not be fine. His father was not physically injured. He was broken inside. And his mother was not waiting, hands on hips, to fuss over his father or him or anyone else. She was missing.

  How had she gone from undercooking apple pies to wandering off in a snowstorm in a matter of weeks?

  The sight of his parents’ truck parked next to the house brought little comfort. About six months ago, his mom had had an incident with some loose gravel on their drive, ended up in the ditch, and stubbornly decided she wasn’t going to drive ever again. At the time, he’d figured it was just a phase, but looking back, he could see it had been a warning sign. Now he was glad he didn’t have to worry about her getting into an accident, but if she’d taken the truck, at least she’d have some protection from the elements. On foot she was entirely exposed.

  He jumped out of his truck and jogged toward the house. His dad was waiting on the porch, wringing his hat in his hands. He took the steps as quickly as his bum leg would allow and met Mitch. “I’m sorry, son. I never should’ve left her alone.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Mitch gripped his father’s shoulder. “I should’ve been helping more.”

  Rand wiped a hand over his face. “I tried tracking her, but the snow’s falling too fast. It’s already covered any prints.”

  The snow in Montana was often fine and dry, blowing and swirling like desert sand in the subzero temperatures of winter. But the snow today was thick and heavy, covering the ground with alarming speed.

  “Which way do you think she went? Where would she want to go?”

  Rand jammed his hat back on his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his wool-lined coat. “Maybe toward town, but you would’ve seen her. I think she’s headed for the mountain. She’s always going on about that treasure.”

  “Then let’s go.” Mitch jogged back to his truck, and his father followed. “She can’t have gotten far.”

  “Mebbe.” Rand heaved himself into the passenger seat and pulled his right leg in with a grunt. “But I don’t know how long she’s been gone. And you know your mother.”

  Mitch turned the key in the ignition and scowled to himself. He didn’t feel like he knew her at all anymore, actually. But his dad was referring to his mother’s stubbornness and iron will, and Mitch did know about that. If she wanted to climb the mountain, she would find a way to climb the mountain.

  He turned the truck around and headed back to the road. “We’ll find her.”

  Neither of them spoke as he drove up Pass Creek Road. The snow fell faster and thicker. Mitch punched a button on his phone and called Bea for the third time since leaving the house, and for the third time, it went straight to voicemail. He threw the phone down on the seat with a growl.

  “What?” Rand’s gnarled fingers gripped the knees of his worn denim jeans. “Where’s Bea?”

  “I don’t know. She went for a drive.”

  “In this weather?”

  “She was mad.”

  Rand peered intently out the window. “I don’t like this. Maybe we should call the sheriff.”

  Mitch nodded. “Keep your eyes out. If we don’t see any sign of her before the schoolhouse, we’ll call.”

  He said it with confidence, but Mitch knew how long it could take to get anyone out to help them. On a good day, the emergency response times were slow. During the first big storm of the season, when everyone realized they’d forgotten how to drive in the snow and ended up stuck in a ditch down on the interstate? Every police officer and ambulance for fifty miles would be busy for hours.

  Though he was tempted to race down the road, Mitch took it slow so they could examine every suspicious-looking figure or heap or hiding place they passed. A half mile before the schoolhouse, he pulled the truck over and hopped out when he saw what looked like a jacket lying next to the road. It was a black garbage bag.

  He kicked it and climbed back into the truck, giving his father a guarded look. “It’s getting colder.”

  Rand worked the knees of his jeans, his callused palms rubbing the fabric like June’s kneading dough. “You reckon it’s time to call for help?”

  Mitch checked his phone. “No signal here. And might not be any if we keep going. Maybe we should head back and come up with a better plan. What if we drove all over the mountain and she was at the house looking for you the whole time?”

  It had been foolish to head out without leaving a note. His mother could’ve been hiding out in the barn for all they knew. He hadn’t even asked Dad if he’d che
cked around the property or called any of the neighbors.

  Rand nodded reluctantly. Visibility was so poor they both knew spotting June would be nearly impossible unless she was standing in the middle of the road. And what if she was waiting for them?

  Mitch pictured his mother wandering the house, alone and confused. Pictured her in a ditch somewhere, the snow slowly covering her body. He drummed the steering wheel so hard it hurt and prayed.

  He turned the truck around and drove faster, his mind working the problem while his hands and feet went into autopilot to get him back to the house. He would have his dad call all the neighbors as soon as his phone had service. Then he and Rand would split up and search every inch of the house and the property. If that failed to net any results, then there was only one thing left to do.

  Bea hadn’t driven up Whitetail Pass Road in a long time and never in a vehicle with low-profile tires. But she knew that even if the car managed to navigate the worsening conditions, this road wasn’t going to take them anywhere near Hardscrabble Peak like Grandma June wanted.

  Grandma leaned forward in her seat, staring intently out the windshield. The wipers scraped at full speed, trying to keep the snow at bay. Bea tightened her hold on the wheel, struggling to accept that the person beside her was the same person she’d known her whole life.

  “I don’t think we should go any farther.” Bea slowed the car and peered through the falling flakes, looking for a place to turn around. She’d humored her grandmother long enough.

  “We’re almost there.” Grandma’s gaze darted around like a hummingbird in August, alighting for a moment on one thing before darting to something else. “He’s close. I can feel him.”

  Goose bumps rose on Bea’s arms. Who was Grandma talking about? She couldn’t possibly be searching for Grandpa Rand. Why would he be up here? An SUV drove by in the other lane at a reckless speed, spraying the Toyota with slush from the road. Bea’s hands hurt from her death grip on the wheel. Maybe if she could distract Grandma enough, she wouldn’t notice if Bea turned around.

  “I bet he went back home.” Bea slowed the car even more, hoping no one would come driving up and ram her from behind. As soon as she found a suitable turnout, she would take it and head back down the mountain. “He’s probably wondering where you are right now.”

  A gasp blew from Grandma’s mouth. “What if he’s wondered all these years? What if he thinks I forgot about him?”

  Bea didn’t know what to say. None of this made any sense. Grandma started rocking back and forth, moaning words that sounded like they belonged to someone else.

  “I will never forget. I will never forget. I will never forget.”

  A turnout appeared, and Bea breathed a sigh of relief. The snow was piling up, but the trees had kept the snow covering the dirt turnout from becoming too deep. She silently thanked the Lord and eased the car off the road, careful not to brake too hard. The last thing she wanted was to start sliding. Dad’s warnings about someone losing sight of their house from ten feet away suddenly weren’t so hard to believe.

  Carefully, she drove the little half circle until she was back facing the road. Though it was unlikely she would see anyone, she stopped to look for cars before pulling out. She looked right. Looked left.

  A blast of cold air struck her, and she spun around. “Grandma.”

  Grandma June was out of the car and looking around as if trying to decide which way to go. Her gray hair, which had grown even longer and wilder since Bea saw her last, turned white with snow in an instant.

  Bea slammed the Toyota into park. “Hot coffee.”

  She pulled on her coat and climbed out into the snow, leaving the car running. “Grandma.”

  Grandma nodded as if making up her mind and started walking.

  Bea held up a hand and shouted, “Wait. Stop.”

  The falling snow muffled her words. Her grandmother did not slow down. Bea’s tennis shoes were soaked through by the time she caught up with her grandma, who wasn’t wearing boots, either.

  She grabbed one of Grandma’s hands, which was ice-cold. Neither of them had gloves. She’d always kept a stash of hats, gloves, and blankets in the back of her Blazer at Dad’s insistence, not to mention a jug of water and box of granola bars, but the Toyota had no such provisions.

  Bea tugged on Grandma’s hand. “Come back to the car where it’s warm.” Her voice was desperate. “Please.”

  Grandma ignored her. Panic rose up in Bea’s chest. What was she supposed to do? She pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans with her other hand. No signal and a low battery. This was not good. Grandma dragged her along as she continued up the road, past two little white crosses marking the site of a fatal accident. Grandma didn’t notice them.

  Where was she getting her strength? She was a couple of inches taller than Bea, who took after her petite mother in size, but Bea never expected that Grandma could pull her along like a toddler.

  The snow muted all sounds except their feet clomping along the road. They rounded a bend, and Bea looked back. She couldn’t see the car anymore and had serious doubts about getting it back on the road without help. But she needed to get Grandma back inside it, and she needed to do it now. What would convince her?

  She resisted as much as possible, slowing Grandma’s progress, and checked her phone again. Just up ahead, at the top of a hill, was something of a clearing. If they reached it, perhaps she would be able to pick up one bar of service. That was all she needed. One measly bar.

  She pulled up her messaging app with one hand and hesitated. At the top of the list were two names: Jeremy and Dad. She’d only have the chance to send one text, if any. She began to type, unable to look at the screen as she stumbled along. She hoped the words would make sense if they went through.

  Grandma gave Bea’s hand an extra hard tug, and Bea lost her balance. Pain shot up her leg as her right knee hit the pavement with a cold, wet splash. She winced, but Grandma wasn’t about to slow down. She dragged Bea to her feet and continued walking. Bea prayed no cars would come around the bend.

  “Let’s go back, Grandma.”

  Grandma June reached the clearing and stopped, panting. Bea thanked God under her breath and quickly checked her phone. She’d been right. There was one bar. She held the phone above her head, said another prayer, and hit send.

  Grandma looked at her with hollow eyes. “I will never forget.”

  “Of course not.” Bea shoved her phone into her coat pocket, having no idea whether her message went through. “And I will never forget this trip up the mountain. Now let’s go back to the car.”

  Her grandma let go of her hand and turned in circles, disoriented. Bea bit back her fear and racked her brain for something to convince Grandma June to listen. The snow showed no sign of letting up, and she thought of the blizzard that had nearly been the demise of old Miner McGee.

  Wait.

  That was it.

  “Grandma.” She gently put her hands on Grandma’s shoulders. “Tell me the story about the light on the mountain.”

  Something flickered in Grandma June’s eyes. “The light on the mountain?”

  “Yes.” Bea took her hand and pulled. In response, Grandma took a faltering step toward the car. “It’s my favorite story. Please, won’t you tell it?”

  Grandma’s hair was soaked, her fingers frozen. When Bea saw how badly Grandma was trembling, she quickened her pace.

  Grandma allowed Bea to lead her. “But I need to find him. What if he needs me?”

  Bea still had no clue who he was, but maybe she could use him to her advantage. “He would want you to tell the story, don’t you think?”

  The Toyota came into view, still idling.

  Water streamed down Grandma’s face. Bea didn’t know if it was snow or tears. Maybe it was both.

  Grandma’s voice was small. “He would’ve liked that story.”

  “Who, Grandma?”

  “My baby.”

  Bea’s forehead
wrinkled. “Let’s pretend he’s here. Once upon a time . . .”

  They neared the car. Grandma didn’t speak. Bea opened the passenger door and nudged Grandma inside. Her body was shaking too badly to put up a fight. For the first time, Bea wondered how long Grandma could last in these conditions. She’d been so caught up in the drama, she hadn’t noticed how pale Grandma was. How blue her lips.

  Bea ran around the car to get in, thankful she’d left it running. It was toasty inside. She jerked the car into drive and hit the gas. The car slid backward. The tires spun uselessly.

  “Hot coffee.”

  She tried again, but it was pointless. The snow had deepened and was beginning to freeze into ruts the Toyota would never climb out of on its own. Not with its narrow tires and low clearance. It might as well be a toy car.

  They needed help. She checked her phone, but it was dead. Nothing drained a phone battery faster than searching for service in the mountains. There was no way to know if her message had gone through.

  As the inside of the windows fogged up from their wet clothes, she worried Grandma might make another break for it. But it only took a glance to realize that wasn’t the biggest concern anymore.

  “Let’s get you out of that wet coat.” Bea helped Grandma unzip it and pull it off. She needed to keep her awake. “Now, about that story. Once upon a time . . .”

  This time a small light appeared in Grandma’s eyes. “Once upon a time, many years ago, there was a man named Miner McGee. He had spent his whole life searching for treasure but never struck it rich.”

  Her words came slow and thick. The shifter between the two front seats poked into Bea’s side, and her injured knee protested as she twisted and reached over to pull the socks and shoes from Grandma’s feet. She tossed them on the back seat, then grasped Grandma’s hands between her own, rubbing them briskly.

  “What happened to him?” she asked.

  “The people of Moose Creek told him of an enormous diamond hidden away on the mountain.” Grandma sounded far away. “The Big Sky Diamond. He stocked up on supplies . . . and strapped on his headlamp . . .”