by Lyn Cote
“Amy? Are you there?”
“I’m here.” Amy couldn’t think what to say. Her heart pounded and she had to blink away spots of light exploding before her eyes.
“I know it’s a shock to hear from me. But I just couldn’t wait any longer to contact you.”
“Where are you?” Amy managed to bring up the words. Where have you been for seven years?
“In Wisconsin, nearby. I’m trying to get my life in order. I’ve only been out for a few weeks.”
“Out?” Her sister’s words didn’t make sense.
“Yes, out of…prison.”
Prison—how? Each word Carrie uttered jabbed her like a fist. “But that can’t be right. The police would have told me if you were in prison. They couldn’t find you in Chicago.”
“I wasn’t in Chicago. I was in Detroit. Oh, it’s a long story. But I was using an assumed name there, and that’s the name I went to prison with. I didn’t want you to know or anyone to ever know I’d been to prison. I didn’t want a felony to follow me or my girls around for the rest of my life. But I realized that you would need to know and deserved the truth.”
Assumed name? Prison? Seven years and only three postcards? Amy’s mind had lost its ability to focus. Though she sat still, she felt as if she were being spun around very fast.
“Amy?”
Amy couldn’t speak. Dizzy, so dizzy.
“I know this is a real shock for you. That’s why I haven’t contacted you before now. I’ve been watching you, trying to get up the courage to approach you.”
“You were at the mall.” The words welled up on their own.
“Yes, and I followed you home from Walmart the other day. Amy, I know this has really been rough on you. But I’m out now. I’m looking for a job. I’m going to get my life on the right path so I can take care of my girls. Oh, Amy, they’re so cute. So beautiful. I saw them at Walmart with you. I just want to be a good mom to them. I can’t thank you enough for taking care of them for me.”
Each word hit Amy like a Taser. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think.
“But I’m ready to be their mom now,” her sister said.
At these words, Amy hung up the phone. She pressed her hands flat on the table, helping the world to stop spinning.
She looked down at her hands, pressed flat against the table top. What had just happened?
Jake walked into the kitchen. “Amy?”
She looked up at him, but didn’t speak.
“Amy, we should be going now. Brooke’s expecting us.”
She rose. “Right.”
“You look great, but are you feeling okay?”
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Something was not quite right. He tried to figure out if it was him. Had she decided she didn’t want to go? “We don’t have to go tonight if you don’t want to.”
“No, I want to go.” She led him out to the living room. Mike was building a fire in the wood stove. Ginnie was playing a hand-clapping game with Cassie while Rachel watched.
“Have a good time, Mom!” Cassie said, still concentrating on the rhythm of the game.
“You girls be good.” Amy walked to the door and lifted her jacket from the coatrack.
Jake took it from her and helped her with it. Outside he helped her into the pickup. And then he got in and drove them to Brooke’s. Amy said nothing, and Jake didn’t want to press her. Brooke rented a condo near the country club golf course. Snow swirled around them as they hurried from the truck to the entryway.
Within minutes, Brooke was greeting them. “So happy you’re here.”
Amy smiled.
“Thanks for having us.” Jake looked around at the other guests. Dad and Erv Pavlek, his old high school friend who had gone to University of Wisconsin at Madison with him, had come with his wife. Another couple looked familiar. They greeted Amy, and Jake figured out that they knew Amy from her church. So far so good.
Brooke went into the small kitchen. Jake followed Amy to a love seat, where they sat down. The other two couples made polite conversation, asked them questions, and Amy responded with brief but acceptable replies. Something about her suggested a trancelike state. Jake tried to figure out what was going on, but finally gave up.
After a delicious dinner, everyone decided to make it an early evening. Outside the windows, snow fell hard and fast.
Finally, only Jake, Amy, Brooke and Dan remained. Brooke stood behind Amy and made a gesture with her arms and face that clearly asked Jake: What’s wrong?
Jake shook his head. Still, he appreciated the fact that someone else had noticed Amy’s preoccupation. I’m not mistaken. What could have happened?
“Amy, thanks for coming,” Brooke said, taking her hand.
“Thank you for having us,” Amy said as if reading a script. “The dinner was delicious.”
“You two drive home carefully,” Brooke said as Jake followed Amy out the door.
Jake waved and then helped Amy into the truck. “I think we misjudged Brooke at first,” he said, driving onto the main road.
“Yes, she’s nice.”
Jake tried a few more gambits but could not get Amy to do more than agree or disagree in brief sentences. Did I do something wrong? He searched his memory for anything that might have triggered this. He came up empty. Should he ask her?
He still hadn’t made up his mind by the time they reached the little house. He walked Amy through the cascading snowflakes to her door. He had hoped to kiss her good-night, but he couldn’t even think of attempting that now.
She turned to him. “Thanks. I had a nice time.”
Jake tried to come up with something comforting to say. “Is everything okay?”
Amy nodded and then went inside and shut the door.
As Jake drove away, he knew one thing for certain—something was not okay. What had caused Amy to go on autopilot for the evening?
Amy woke up and tried to remember where she was. And what had awakened her.
“Mom,” Cassie said, shaking Amy. “Mom, Rachel’s sick, real sick.”
Amy sat up. And looking down, she realized she had gone to bed in her clothes. Daylight glowed at the window.
“Mom, come on.” Cassie tugged her hand.
Amy let Cassie lead her to the girls’ room. Rachel was gasping for breath. When she saw Amy, she said, “Mom, it hurts when I breathe.” Then she began gagging.
Amy rushed forward, grabbed the wastebasket, and helped Rachel throw up into it. She recognized immediately that Rachel had brought up congestion. Amy noted traces of blood; worry zipped up her spine.
When Rachel was able to lie back down, Amy wiped her mouth and face with a tissue. “Cassie, hurry, get Rachel a glass of water.”
Amy didn’t have to touch Rachel’s forehead. Heat radiated from the child. Oh, Lord, what now?
Cassie hurried, splashing water from a plastic glass of water. “I ran it till it was really cold.”
Amy accepted the glass and helped Rachel drink to clean her mouth and throat. “I’m going to get you bundled up. We need to go to Urgent Care.” She turned to Cassie. “Get dressed really warm while I help Rachel dress.”
Rachel was weak but didn’t complain of achiness. That led Amy to believe that she didn’t have the flu. Pneumonia? The word terrified her. As she helped Rachel put on a sweater and sweatpants over her pajamas, she heard the wind assaulting the little house. They must be getting hit with the fringes of the storm that would be pummeling Milwaukee by now.
Finally, the girls were dressed. Amy had wrapped Rachel’s face with a scarf and told her to breathe only through her nose. Amy opened the door; wind and wet snow rushed inside, nearly bowling them over.
Amy shouted, “Hold on to me, Cassie.” She swung Rachel up into her arms and bent into the wind. The snow had drifted against her door. She tried to plow through it, but the wind drove her back.
Holding Rachel with one arm and shielding her eyes with the other, Amy tried to
look ahead to the small garage. And couldn’t. She scanned the surrounding area and saw nothing but veils of snow, masking everything she should have been able to see but couldn’t.
Cassie was trying to push her way through a drift, nearly as tall as she.
“Cassie, come back. We can’t drive there.”
“But Rachel’s sick.”
“It’s not safe. Come back.” Amy led them back inside the few steps. Even the short time outside had layered them with thick wet snow. Amy stripped the outerwear from Rachel and propped her on the couch, wrapping her in an afghan. She and Cassie shed their sopping scarves and jackets. Snow had worked its way down into Amy’s boots.
“What are we going to do?” Cassie asked, her voice trembling with fright.
“We’ll call for help.” Amy went to the kitchen phone and picked up the receiver. No dial tone. She winced as if stung. She instantly tried to switch on the kitchen light. No luck. She hung up the phone and sagged against the wall. Power outage.
She pulled herself together, rushing to her purse, which she’d dropped by the door last night. She yanked out her cell phone and groaned. She hadn’t plugged it in last night, and her battery was comatose. Think. Think. Your girls are depending on you.
Amy looked around the room. A low fire must be burning in the wood stove. That would keep them warm. How long had the power been out? Not that long. Cassie had been able to run water.
Amy steadied herself. Mike had stacked wood in the covered lean-to outside the back door, enough to keep them warm for a month if necessary. The well pump was powered by electricity, but she had a few gallon jugs of water set aside for just such an emergency. She had an oil lamp, matches and food. And decongestant to give Rachel. I won’t panic.
Yesterday’s phone call niggled at the back of her mind. But then at the catastrophic pounding of her heart, she shied away from recalling her sister’s words. I have enough to contend with. I’ll think about that, later.
Outside the kitchen door, she gathered an armful of wood, feeling the wind buffeting the lean-to, snow sifting between the cracks. But the wood was still dry. Back inside, she knelt by the wood stove. Thank you, Mike. She loaded the wood as he had taught her, added kindling, checked the draft and then lit the new fire, which thrived on the air pouring down the chimney.
She moved Rachel away from the wood stove since a cool room was better for someone coughing and congested. She took the cast-iron kettle that sat on the wood stove, filled it with some bottled water and set it back on the stove to make hot tea with honey for Rachel. Then she poured cereal and milk for Cassie and brought it into the living room.
With no TV or radio, the only sound came from the wind, buffeting the house and the wet snow, slapping the windowpanes. Even the kittens fell silent, hovering on the girls’ laps. Finally Amy spooned the warm tea into Rachel’s mouth, knowing that tea was a natural expectorant and the honey would soothe Rachel’s throat. Dear God, help me do everything right.
Again the phone call tried to force itself to the front of her mind. A wave of panic clenched her stomach. She shook it off. No time for anything but Rachel now. Nothing bad was going to happen to her girls—if she could help it.
The hours dragged on. The noise of the wind and snow knotted the muscles at the back of Amy’s neck. She read the girls story after story. And when Rachel fell asleep, Cassie sat coloring listlessly in a book near the window. But Amy found herself pacing and wishing she had one of those battery-operated weather radios that they were always telling people to buy. About three o’clock in the endless afternoon, Amy hovered over Rachel.
Her little girl’s breathing had become more and more labored and her fever had spiked. Amy didn’t need to take her temperature. Rachel’s face was flushed red. She woke and could barely draw a breath without going into a coughing spasm. Little Twinkie mewed loudly as if worried, too.
“I have to get help,” Amy said at last.
“The snow’s too deep to drive,” Cassie said.
“I can walk to Dr. Jake’s house. His father is a doctor. Rachel needs a doctor.”
“You’ll leave us alone?” Cassie sounded afraid. “What if Rachel gets sicker? I won’t know what to do.”
Amy stooped down to be at eye level. “I can dress warm and follow the fence around to the house. It’s not far, less than a half-mile. You stay with your sister. I’ll be back with help before you know it.”
Cassie looked worried.
“I’ll add some logs to the fire and then bundle up.” Amy did this, and soon she stood ready to open the door. “While I’m gone, watch your sister. Help her.”
“I will, Mom.” Cassie rushed to Amy and hugged her waist. “I’ll take care of Rachel. Come back soon.”
“I will. Just stay inside where it’s warm. Don’t go outside—no matter what. You must be brave and keep watch over your sister.”
Cassie nodded solemnly and moved to stand by Rachel as if taking up her post. Both of them gazed at her; worry strained their expressions.
Reluctant to leave them, Amy forced herself to open the door. Wind gushed inside and wet snow slapped her face. She bent into the wind, pushing herself outside. Navigating the snow-drifts, she headed toward the fence she could barely see. Finally, she gripped the first post of the fence that bordered Jake’s property on the roadside. She was already panting.
The memory of Rachel’s flushed face and labored breathing made her push on. Snow swirled around her, and soon she couldn’t see the little house or even the road, only a few feet away. Though she’d tied her hood tight and wrapped the lower half of her face with her scarf, snow still covered her face. She had to keep wiping the snowflakes from her eyelashes. Only the fence kept her on course. She paused to catch her breath.
The snow surrounded her in its white muffled folds. She gasped for breath and cold filled her lungs. Stark terror splashed through her. She clung to the fence post. Wave after wave of fear crashed over her, more than warranted.
What’s happening to me?
The image in her mind yanked her back years and years. Her mother was lying unconscious on the floor of the bedroom. Mama, don’t die. Please don’t die. I have to get help.
She shuddered sharply. And then she snapped back to the present, clinging to the post, still terrified. Amy realized she’d viewed the scene from the past as if it were right in front of her, here and now.
But it’s not here and now. Rachel is here and now, and she needs me. She pushed the bad memory away and ventured forward, keeping one mitten gripping the fence wire loosely, maintaining constant contact with her guide. Within, she trembled from the force of strong emotion. Outwardly she shivered from the cold, the penetrating cold.
She began to count the fence posts one by one—ten, eleven, twelve. How many would it take to reach Jake? To get to help?
At last, she reached the corner post and turned. Not much farther and she’d come to their drive. A strong gust knocked her from her feet. She flailed in the snow as if drowning. She gasped, rolled over and regained her feet. She wrapped her arms around the fence post again and wiped the snow from her face, gasping.
She struggled on, and then the fence ended. She had made it to Jake’s drive. She looked backward but couldn’t see the road. How could she make sure not to miss the house, not to get lost in the snow?
The fence post stood to her right. If she walked straight, she would go up the drive. What if she missed the house, invisible in the storm? Normally that thought would be ridiculous. Not today.
She sidestepped once, twice, on and on to her right till the third fence post was right behind her. If she walked straight ahead now, she would hit some part of the house. She stiffened herself to do this.
As much as possible in the driving wind and snow, she made herself put one foot in front of the other. The wind hit her from all sides. She breathed through her nose and bent almost double to protect her eyes, the only part of her exposed to the elements. Moving through the snowdrifts was like
swimming through thick mud.
Then she stumbled and fell forward. She’d tripped on the first of the front steps. She moved along the step and found the railing. She crawled up the steps, over the porch to the front door. She dragged herself erect and then battled the wind to wrench open the snow-encrusted storm door. She banged the brass knocker on the door. “Jake! Jake!” she yelled.
The door opened and she fell inside.
“Amy?”
Strong hands pulled her up. The door slammed behind her. Someone pulled away her sodden scarf and she looked up into Jake’s face.
“Amy, what’s wrong? Why did you come?”
Bummer was barking wildly.
Her heart pounded. Her throat closed. She burst into tears.
Jake trapped her cold face between his warm hands. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“Rachel,” she gasped. “She’s much worse. I think it’s pneumonia. She’s having trouble breathing. High fever. Can your dad come? She needs a doctor.”
Jake pulled her farther inside, calling to Bummer to be quiet. Before she could stop him, he dragged off her snow-coated jacket and hung it to drip by the door. Then he led her to the hearth where a healthy fire burned. She huddled by it, warming her numbed hands and feet. Mike, Bummer, and Jake hovered near her.
“Jake.” She shivered, stuttering again. “Rachel’s really bad. She can hardly breathe. I have to go right back. Can your father go with me?”
Jake nodded for her to look at the sofa. Dan lay there. He tried to sit up. “I’m not in much better shape, Amy.”
He did look terrible, pale and shaky. She glanced up at Jake.
“What happened?” she asked.
“I passed out again, and my blood pressure is dangerously high,” Dan said, sounding disgusted. “If the weather weren’t so bad, Jake would have driven me to the ER this morning. The county roads are all closed, and we’ve been warned that not even ambulances are running.”
“Earlier I intended to take the girls there, too. But I couldn’t even get them to the car. Snow drifts.”
Jake motioned toward their bright yellow weather radio on the table beside Dan. “The storm is supposed to last through the night.”