A Flicker of Light

by Katie Powner

  Her voice trailed off, and Bea’s chest tightened. “And then what happened, Grandma? Tell me the story.”

  Grandma leaned her head back against the seat.

  “Please, Grandma.” Bea’s voice was small and thin. “Tell me the story.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Mitch cupped his cold hands in front of his mouth and blew on them. The temperature had continued to drop. He hurried into the house to find his dad. There was nowhere else his mother could be. They’d checked every possible hiding place outside once and every inch of the house twice. What had possessed her to leave? What had she been thinking?

  His father hung up the landline phone with a fearful look in his eye. “That was the last of ’em, and they ain’t seen her neither. Said they’d call if she shows up.”

  Mitch nodded slowly. That was that, then. Only one thing left to do.

  He checked his phone. No service, but he’d spent enough time in this house to know where the sweet spots were. He moved to the back of the kitchen and leaned close to the window. Aha. Two bars. He quickly punched some buttons and held the phone to his ear.

  It rang once. Twice.

  “I’m still at the church, locking up,” Frank said. “Is Bea all right?”

  Mitch’s blood froze. “What do you mean?”

  Had Frank heard something about Bea? If anything happened to her, he would have only himself to blame.

  “She wasn’t at the service this morning.”

  “Oh, right. No, it’s my mother.”

  “What happened?”

  Mitch moved away from his father and lowered his voice. “She ran off. We can’t find her.”

  “Oh my. Lord, protect her. Did you contact the sheriff?”

  “Not yet. The department’s probably all tied up down at the interstate. I thought . . .”

  His stomach clenched. Did he really want to do this? It was the stupid prayer chain that had first strained his relationship with Frank, back when Caroline got diagnosed. Frank had put the message out about Caroline’s sickness before Mitch could agree. Before Mitch was ready for the onslaught of people saying, “We’re praying for you,” and, “We’re so sorry to hear that.”

  Mitch’s chest tightened. The blatant invasion of privacy. The argument he and Frank had had afterward. And what right did Mitch have now, calling on Frank and the people of Moose Creek Community Church for help in his time of need, after the way he’d treated them the past two years? And yet he was desperate.

  “You want me to activate the chain?” Frank had his pastor voice on.

  “I . . .” Mitch gripped the phone. If he said yes, help would be on the way in no time. The church’s prayer chain would spread the news faster than a grass fire in July, and dozens of people would be here in less than an hour. All the same people who had intruded on his life when Caroline died, refusing him the courtesy of grieving on his own terms.

  “Mitch?”

  His phone beeped, and he pulled it from his ear to check the screen. A text had come through. “Hold on, Frank.”

  He swiped the screen, and the message appeared. His heart caught. It was from Bea. He squinted at it, trying to decipher the words.

  Stick up wife tail password road. Ned help. Grsdnma j with me.

  What on earth? He read the words again, and a swell of hope washed over him.

  He pulled his truck keys from his pocket. “Never mind the prayer chain, Frank. I know where she is. We’re leaving right now.”

  If Frank responded, Mitch didn’t hear. He was already headed for the front door, jerking his chin at his dad to follow him.

  “Mom is with Bea.” He held the door open for his father. “They’re stuck up on Whitetail Pass Road.”

  Bea prodded Grandma June and called her name. She pinched her arm and even blew in her face. Nothing. A rattlesnake of dread coiled in her stomach, ready to strike. How had she let herself get into this mess?

  A truck with a round bale in the back drove up, its headlights shining through the pelting snow. Bea waved an arm, but it sped right past. She turned back to Grandma June, failing to keep tears from falling.

  “What happened to Miner McGee?” she shouted.

  Grandma’s eyes flew open. “He refused to wait until spring, so up the mountain he went. Just as the worst blizzard Moose Creek had ever seen fell upon the land.”

  Bea’s throat tightened as she reached over and held her grandmother’s hand.

  “The snow fell for three whole days,” Grandma continued, her voice soft as if remembering. “When it finally stopped, the people of Moose Creek gathered to decide whether to send a search party for Miner McGee’s body right then or wait . . .”

  Bea’s whole body tensed, willing Grandma June to go on. To keep talking. The snow outside was still falling but not piling up as fast. The flakes were smaller now. Bea glanced at the Toyota’s gas gauge. Less than a quarter of a tank. How long would she be able to keep the car running and warm?

  “What did the people decide, Grandma?”

  Grandma June shook her head. “What?”

  “What did the people of Moose Creek decide to do about Miner McGee’s body?”

  “Oh.” Grandma sat up a little straighter. “Yes. Well, as they were talking, the sun sank low in the sky, and someone shouted, ‘Look!’ And there on the mountain was Miner McGee’s headlamp, shining bright for all to see as he searched for his treasure.” She looked out the window, and her shoulders slumped.

  Bea tugged on her hand. “Grandma?”

  “Ever since that day, whenever the sun sinks low in the sky, you can see his lamp click on.”

  Bea swallowed hard. “What if he never finds the Big Sky Diamond?”

  Grandma June pulled her hand away and touched the glass. “I will find him. I’ll never give up.”

  A shiver ran down Bea’s spine. She wished she knew what her grandma was talking about. Who she was talking about. And she wished she knew what else to say to keep her alert now that the story was finished.

  “Who are you looking for, Grandma? Tell me about him.”

  Grandma June turned blank eyes on Bea. Her eyelids drooped.

  Bea forced a smile. “Grandma?”

  There was no answer except the whump-whump-whump of the windshield wipers sliding back and forth. Bea checked her phone again, as if somehow it would’ve recharged itself. The black screen caused an empty feeling to open up in her chest. She hated being helpless. Vulnerable. Like that night in Atlanta when she was walking back to her dorm after a late dinner . . .

  A low growl broke through her thoughts. What was that? She sat up. A truck. And not just any truck. She knew that engine.

  She used her sleeve to wipe at the foggy window and peered through. Dad’s truck pulled off the road onto the turnout and stopped. Dad and Grandpa Rand hopped out.

  Bea began to sob.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Jeremy squeezed her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Stop asking me that.” Bea flinched at the sharpness of her words. She closed her eyes and softened her voice. “Please.”

  Her head hurt. She was exhausted. Dad and Grandpa Rand had helped Grandma June into Dad’s truck so they could take her straight to the hospital. Then they’d helped Bea get the Toyota back on the road and insisted she drive straight home. She’d argued that she wanted to go along with them, but Dad wouldn’t hear it. “Jeremy’s expecting you,” he’d said. “And I suspect Frank’ll be there, too.”

  Dad had followed her in the truck until she turned onto Second Street, then continued driving down Highway 288 to the interstate. Bea had turned in her seat to watch as they drove on. Never had Ponderosa seemed so far away.

  “Thank the Lord you found your grandma when you did.” Pastor Frank shook his head. He’d been waiting with Jeremy when she arrived, just like Dad predicted. “God was watching out.”

  “Yeah.” She stared at the table.

  “That God would lead you to be driving way out there at the
same time she wandered off . . .” He smiled. “It’s nothing short of a miracle.”

  She tried to smile back. It had been bittersweet to come home and find him sitting at their kitchen table. Sweet because he was such a dear old friend with whom she shared many fond memories. Bitter because the last time he’d been in their house was the day of Mom’s funeral.

  “I can’t believe they let you drive yourself back.” Jeremy set the hot tea he’d prepared for her on the table near her elbow. “You were in no condition to—”

  “I’m fine.” She wrapped her hands around the warm mug. “It was fine. Grandma was the main concern.”

  “Well, you’re my main concern.” Jeremy frowned. “Are you sure you’re—”

  She shot him a look.

  He held up his hands. “Sorry, but I was really worried.”

  She took a sip of tea and leaned her arms on the table. When she’d gotten home, it had taken every bit of energy she could muster to change out of her wet clothes and take a hot shower. Jeremy had taken one look at her wet hair and ordered her back upstairs to blow-dry it, as if it would make any difference now. Still, she appreciated his concern.

  Her phone rang from where it was charging on the counter. When she moved to stand and grab it, Jeremy held up a hand. “I’ll get it.”

  He handed her the phone, and she glimpsed Dad’s name on the screen. “Hi, Dad. Did you make it? How’s Grandma?”

  The voice on the other end was crisp and clear, as if an entire mountain didn’t stand between them. “The roads were terrible. Wrecks everywhere, like I figured. But they took her back right away and are giving her fluids and checking everything. She’ll be spending at least one night. Maybe more. That’s all I know right now.”

  Jeremy and Pastor Frank leaned toward her, eager for news.

  “Did she wake up? Does she feel okay?”

  “She woke up all right.” Dad snorted. “Halfway to Ponderosa, she panicked and started screaming about searching for treasure. Then when we tried to get her into a wheelchair to wheel her into the hospital, she sat down on the ground, right in the snow, and refused to move.”

  Bea nodded to herself. It was amazing how strong and stubborn Grandma could be when she set her mind on something. Bea had learned that the hard way. She rubbed her right knee. It was going to be sore for a while.

  “Are you going to stay there?” she asked.

  Dad hesitated. “I think your grandpa’s going to insist on spending the night. I should probably stay with him.”

  She wanted to ask how Grandma could get so bad so fast. How the doctors were going to explain the seeming stranger she’d picked up at Pass Creek School. Instead, she finished with “Okay. Keep us posted.”

  “Will do.”

  She hung up the phone and filled Jeremy and Pastor Frank in on what she’d learned.

  Pastor Frank tapped the table thoughtfully. “I think I’ll head over to the hospital if they’re going to stay awhile, now that I know you’re okay. Is there anything you need?”

  Bea shook her head. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Of course.” Pastor Frank patted her hand. “Dorothy and I will be praying for all of you. And if there’s anything else I can do . . .”

  “Okay.”

  He gave Jeremy a meaningful look. “You got my number?”

  Jeremy nodded.

  “I’ll see myself out.”

  She listened to Pastor Frank clomp down the hall and out the door. Having him around was so familiar and yet so strange. His family and hers used to come and go from each other’s houses as if they were related. But everything was different now.

  Jeremy pulled up a chair beside her as she took another sip of tea. “Can I get you anything? Are you hungry?”

  Stop fussing over me, she wanted to scream. But she took one look at the concern on her husband’s face and felt tears well up in her eyes. Hot coffee, not again.

  She fought back the waterworks as best she could. “A little. Are you?”

  He put a gentle hand on her back. “A little. I wish there was a pizza place I could call for delivery.”

  The only places open on a Sunday evening in Moose Creek were the gas station and the bars. Peggy’s Place was actually a bar and grill and made pretty good chicken-strip baskets, but they definitely didn’t deliver.

  “What’s in the fridge?”

  Jeremy stood to find out. “There are a few things I miss about the big city.”

  “Pizza delivery’s not that special.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” Rogue ice cubes spit from the freezer and onto the floor when he opened the fridge. “I was thinking of uninterrupted cell service.”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  He pulled out leftover venison burgers and slid them onto a plate and into the microwave. “It scared me when I couldn’t reach you, and no one was here.”

  “That’s just the way it is out here.”

  “You must’ve known you were going to lose service. You could’ve called before that.”

  She held back a huff. “It’s not like I planned this, Jeremy. Plus, my battery died. Cell service doesn’t matter if your phone’s dead.”

  He turned his back on her to glare at the microwave. “You managed to text your dad. You let him know where you were.”

  “Is that what this is about?” She cursed the pain and weariness in her forehead. “I was lucky to send any texts at all.”

  “But why him and not me?”

  “It all happened so fast. I knew he’d be able to figure out what I meant.”

  “And I wouldn’t?”

  She threw up her hands. “I don’t know—you tell me. Do you know where Whitetail Pass Road is?”

  The microwave dinged, and he pushed the button to open it. He pulled the plate out and practically flung it on the counter, still not looking at her. “No. But I would’ve found it. I would’ve done whatever it took to get to you.”

  “And how would you have gotten there?” Her voice was strained and heated. “I had your stupid car, and you don’t know how to drive Dad’s truck.”

  He spun around, hurt darkening the blue of his eyes. “It’s our stupid car. And I could’ve gotten your dad to drive.”

  “Which is why I texted him in the first place.”

  There. She’d said it. The words hung unappealing and ominous between them, but they were true. When the split-second moment of decision had come, she’d known her dad was the better person to contact. Even if he had been the reason she’d gone out in the first place. Even if he was going to say “I told you so” about the tires on the car. She’d known she could count on him.

  Jeremy was her husband, and she loved him, but in the moment of crisis, he’d seemed so untested. What had they really been through together? How would she know if she could trust him to come through?

  He set a plate in front of her with a clunk. “You should eat something.”

  She stared at her lap, avoiding his eyes. “What about you?”

  “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  He turned to leave, and those pesky tears welled up again. They burned.

  “Please.” Her constricted throat barely allowed the word to slip through. “I’m sorry. Don’t leave me alone.”

  Her body trembled as she fought against the sobs that wanted to burst from her mouth. What a horrible day. What a stinking, rotten pile-of-hot-coffee kind of day.

  Jeremy’s hand landed lightly on her shoulder.

  She stiffened in surprise, then leaned her cheek against his tattooed forearm, feeling the cross on her skin. “I don’t know what to say.” Her voice was low and strained. “I don’t know what you need from me.”

  No one had ever told her marriage would be this hard.

  “I need you to choose me.”

  Tears fell from the corner of her eye onto his hand. She’d married him, hadn’t she? Yet it seemed like that wasn’t enough, and she wasn’t sure why. If her mom were here, she would understand. She would tell Bea wha
t she was supposed to do. But Bea was alone. Grandma June was in the hospital. Dad and Grandpa Rand had left Bea to take care of herself. Mom was dead. Bea had only Jeremy, and she didn’t know how to tell him about the turmoil in her heart.

  If he would ask her again if she was okay, just one more time, she would say no. Admit that she was afraid and unsure and ask for help.

  But he didn’t.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  I’m calm now, apparently. That’s what everyone says when they come in the room and see me lying here like an infant. “She’s so calm.” As if I can’t hear them. As if it’s some sort of miracle that I’m not flailing around in a tizzy. Well, maybe it is.

  Rand’s hound-dog face is enough to make me wonder if there’s something they’re not telling me. He just sits there looking sad, patting my hand and saying he’s sorry. I don’t know what he’s sorry about. I’m pretty sure I’m the one who’s got everybody worked up. I slide one hand under my covers and search for a pocket, but whatever I’m wearing’s got none.

  My body aches from this bed. They tell me I’ve been lying here since yesterday afternoon, so I guess that explains that. I don’t remember being here yesterday afternoon. I just remember waking up this morning and my eyes bugging out when I saw Rand sleeping in an ugly gray chair next to me. He never has liked us being too far apart. Over the years, if he had to drive somewhere, he always insisted I go along. I never minded.

  Then Mitch came waltzing into the room without even knocking, all astonished to see me looking at him. Not long after that, a doctor came in talking in some sort of cryptic language. It’s been a couple hours now, and I’ve had about as much of this—whatever this is—as I can take.

  “Where’s Bea?” I ask.

  Mitch is messing with his phone, but he looks up when he hears me speak. “She’s at home. Resting.”

  Resting? “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah.” Mitch exchanges a look with Rand. “She’s fine. Just a little tired after your ordeal yesterday.”

  My ordeal? That sounds awfully dramatic. “What happened?”