by Pamela Bauer
“This is spooky,” Emma said, her voice shaky.
“So the power went out. Big deal.” Alex tried to sound bored, but Frannie knew better. He was as close to her side as Emma was.
“Big deal yourself,” Emma retorted. “When you can’t find the bathroom you’ll think it’s a big deal.”
“I don’t have to go to the bathroom, so there,” he snapped back.
“Both of you stop,” Frannie demanded. “This isn’t helping matters.”
The next voice she heard was Joe’s, as a beam of light cut a path through the darkness. “Dad? You okay?”
Frannie watched him fuss over the older gentleman. He set up a folding chair, then helped his father sit down, offering words of comfort and reassurance to the trembling senior.
“Who’s on command?” the old man asked.
“I am, Dad. Everything will be fine,” Joe said. “You just sit here and let me do my job, okay?”
“You know I don’t like the dark, Joe.” The voice wobbled with the same fear Frannie had heard in her children when the lights had gone out.
“I know you don’t, Dad.”
“You won’t leave me, will you?”
“Only for a few minutes until I get the generator going. I’ll tell you what. I’m going to let you use the lantern until I can get the electric lights back on.” He handed him the battery-operated light. “How’s that?”
“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?” he asked for the third time.
“No. This nice lady and her children are going to stay with you,” Joe answered, crooking a finger in Frannie’s direction and motioning for her to come closer to his father’s chair. “You’re going to have to share the light with the little ones, Dad. They get scared in the dark.”
“Not me,” contradicted Alex.
Joe looked at him and said, “No, I don’t suppose much scares you, does it.” Then he turned to his father. “We have one brave kid and two not as brave ones, Dad. They need you to look out for them.”
Frannie looked at Joe Smith. In the shadows cast by the lantern, he looked even more like her ex-husband, yet she was certain he wasn’t the man she’d married. How could he be? Her ex-husband wouldn’t have treated his father with such patience and understanding. The Dennis she knew cared for no one but himself and certainly wouldn’t accept responsibility for an aging parent.
Frannie blinked as the beam from the lantern shone on her face.
“What’s her name?” she heard the older man ask.
She didn’t hesitate to answer. “It’s Frannie.”
“Ah, Frannie. Joe’s wife. Now I remember,” he said.
Frannie could feel Joe Smith’s eyes on her face. When she looked at him, she saw that he was as rattled by his father’s words as she was. Hearing her name upset him. Why should it? Unless…
“This isn’t my wife, Dad,” Joe corrected his father. To her he said, “He gets confused easily.”
She was the one who was confused. Who were these men? She looked from father to son, trying to make sense of everything that had happened since they’d arrived. It was obvious that the older man’s mental faculties were impaired. Frannie, however, wasn’t convinced that he’d referred to her as Joe’s wife because he wasn’t thinking clearly.
“Whose children are these?” the older man demanded, aiming a finger in their direction. “You and Joe don’t have children.”
“Yes, they do. Us,” Alex blurted.
“Alex, be quiet. Please,” Frannie pleaded, wondering if things could get any eerier.
She looked at Joe Smith, trying to see in his eyes some kind of explanation. What she saw told her that this man couldn’t be her ex-husband. His were the eyes of a stranger who looked just as uncertain as she was.
“I need you to stay with my father while I run out to the garage and get the generator going.” She must have looked as if she was about to bolt and run, for he added, “Will you do that for me? Please. He’s frightened.” There was something in his voice she’d never heard in her husband’s—a plea for understanding based on love for someone else.
“Very well, we’ll stay, but only until it stops raining,” she answered.
Without another word, Joe Smith disappeared into the darkness, his footsteps echoing on the wooden risers as he went up the stairs. Several more cracks of thunder split the air, prompting another chorus of shrieks from the kids.
“I don’t like it down here,” Emma said, sidling up to her mom to put a hand on her arm. “There are spiderwebs all over the place.”
“The storm will soon pass, and then we’ll be able to leave,” Frannie said, squeezing her hand.
“I wish we’d never come. It’s all Alex’s fault,” Emma reminded her.
“You should be thanking me. I found Dad.”
Joe Smith’s father directed the light onto Alex’s face. “Am I your dad?”
“I think you’re my grandpa,” Alex replied.
“Alex!” Frannie reprimanded.
He didn’t take the hint. “If he’s that man’s dad, that makes him our grandpa, right?”
“Grandpa? I’m not grandpa to anyone,” the old man stated indignantly. “My grandbabies died.”
Could Dennis have told his father his children were dead? The very thought made her shiver with disgust.
“What’s your name?” Alex asked the old man.
“Name? You can call me what everyone else calls me. The Admiral,” he answered.
Just then the bare bulbs dangling from the ceiling flickered to life. “We’ve got power,” the old man said triumphantly.
Within minutes, footsteps on the stairs announced Joe’s return. He looked at Frannie and asked, “Everything okay?”
She wanted to say no, it wasn’t. How could it be? She was in a strange home during a severe thunderstorm with a man she might have once called her husband. She didn’t understand how it was possible. This man was a stranger to her…or was he?
“Is it a tornado?” Alex asked as the storm continued to howl.
“Just a bad thunderstorm,” Joe Smith answered.
“How do you know it’s not a tornado?”
“There’s no funnel cloud.”
“How can you tell? It’s dark.”
It surprised Frannie that Joe Smith didn’t get impatient with the endless questions Alex threw at him. It was not the reaction she would have expected from Dennis, who’d often complained to her how annoying it was to have a four-year-old ask “why” after every statement he made.
“What about the plane?” The Admiral asked Joe questions, too.
“It’ll be fine, Dad. It’s not here, remember? I took it in to have some work done.”
“Winds that can break branches can twist wings,” the Admiral said, looking at Frannie as he spoke.
She shivered, and Joe noticed. “Are you cold?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m okay.”
Only, she wasn’t okay. She’d been dropped into somebody else’s dream—at least, that’s how it seemed. The whole situation made her feel powerless. And trapped. With two men who might or might not be her ex-husband and her ex-father-in-law.
But it wasn’t a dream. The deafening thunder and her children’s nervous chatter told her that. They remained in the basement while the winds howled, hail pelted the ground and lightning streaked the sky. There wasn’t much for anyone to do but wait for the storm to end, the Admiral, Frannie and her kids huddled in a circle in the middle of the basement, Joe staring out the narrow pane of glass that was the only window.
As soon as the storm had passed, he announced, “It should be safe to go up now.”
Alex and Emma shot out of their chairs and up the stairs. Luke scrambled out of Frannie’s arms, wanting to follow them. Joe helped his father, who shrugged off his hand and determinedly climbed the stairs unassisted. Joe motioned for Frannie to go ahead of him.
She would have run up the stairs as fast as her children had, if it weren’t for the Ad
miral’s slow gait. Joe bumped against her as she paused to wait for his father to continue.
By the time they reached the main floor, the kids stood several paces back from the door. “It’s still lightning,” Alex announced.
“That’s in the distance,” Frannie told him, and motioned for him to open the door and step out onto the porch. As they did, she heard gasps.
“Look at all the trees that fell over!” Alex called out in amazement.
A forceful voice behind them said, “Don’t step off the porch just yet.”
Alex looked to his mother. “Can we?”
She looked at Joe, who said, “I want to make sure no power lines are down.”
Frannie put her hands out and instructed her kids to come closer to her. “Wait right here for a few more minutes.”
Joe headed out into the drizzle with a flashlight. While he was gone, Alex asked, “What are you going to do about him?”
Frannie knew that her son was referring to Joe Smith. “There’s nothing to do, Alex.”
“Aren’t you going to call the police or something?”
“No. It’s not that simple.” Life was never simple when Dennis Harper was around.
“We can’t just go home without telling somebody who he is,” Alex argued.
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do. We’re going to go home,” Frannie stated firmly.
“But what if he runs away again?”
Frannie doubted that Joe Smith would take off in the middle of the night—not when he was responsible for his father. “I don’t think that will happen.”
“He owes us money,” Alex said petulantly.
“I really don’t want to be discussing this just now.” Frannie’s attention was diverted by Luke, who was splashing in the puddles on the deck. “Luke, where are your shoes?” she asked, looking around.
Emma’s thoughts were on the man who looked like their father, too. “He acts as if he doesn’t know us.”
“Yeah, because he doesn’t want to have to pay up,” Alex said.
Once more Frannie called a halt to their conversation. “I’d like both of you to be quiet. He’s going to be back soon, and we’re going to leave. End of discussion,” she said sternly.
Within minutes, Joe Smith returned. “I’m afraid I have bad news.”
“Are the power lines down?” she asked.
“No, but the wind uprooted several trees and the road is blocked,” he answered. “There’s no way you’re going to be able to get your car around them.”
“Are you saying we can’t get out?” Frannie hoped her face didn’t show her panic.
“Unfortunately, the road’s the only way out,” he said soberly.
“He’s probably lying,” Alex said. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“You want to come take a look?” Joe challenged.
“I would,” Frannie answered. She instructed Alex and Emma to stay on the porch with Luke, but they weren’t about to be left behind.
“I’m coming, too,” they said in unison.
“Watch your step,” Joe called out as he aimed the flashlight beam toward the ground. “There are a lot of fallen branches.”
By the time Frannie reached her car, she understood the reason for Joe Smith’s sober expression. Right behind the station wagon was a huge oak tree that had been uprooted. Not only was it blocking the drive, but it had narrowly missed hitting her car.
“You’re lucky you weren’t parked back a few feet. Your car would have been crushed,” he said, confirming her suspicions.
He directed the beam of light toward the road so they could see the twisted mass of fallen trees. “It’s going to take a lot of work to get rid of that mess,” he said grimly.
“How are we going to get home?” Emma asked in a tiny voice.
“You’ll be able to drive home once the road is clear,” Joe answered.
“And when will that be?” Frannie asked. He shrugged. “There’s no point in tackling it until the morning.”
“Morning? What do we do till then?”
“You’ll have to come inside,” he stated, his tone indicating he wasn’t happy with the plan.
Neither was Frannie. This wasn’t just a bad dream. It was a nightmare. “If I come inside, it’ll be to use your phone to call for help,” she stated stiffly.
“And just who do you think you’re going to call? Do you realize where you are?”
She did, which is why she shivered. “Someone must be able to come out and clear the road. The highway department…” Her voice trailed off.
“This isn’t a public road. It’s my drive. A private drive,” he reminded her.
“Are you saying there’s no one to call for help?” she asked on a note of disbelief.
She wasn’t sure if his sigh was one of exasperation or reluctance. “I’ll see what I can do. You might as well wait inside while I make the phone calls.”
“We’ll wait out here,” Frannie told him, trying not to give any indication just how vulnerable she felt.
“You’ll get eaten up by mosquitoes if you stay out here,” Joe warned.
“We can sit in the car,” Alex piped up.
Joe simply shook his head, then walked back to the house, leaving them alone in the dark. Within seconds, Frannie and her children were swatting at the bugs and hurrying to get inside the station wagon.
“I wish we could go home,” Emma said, when the last of the doors had been slammed shut.
“We are going to go home. Just as soon as they get the trees cleared from the road.” Frannie tried to keep her voice upbeat, even though she was every bit as tired and frustrated as her daughter.
“Yeah, and when will that be?” Alex asked sarcastically. “Next week?”
“It’s your fault we’re here,” Emma reminded him. “We had to come home early from the arts festival just because of you, and now we’re stuck in a car overnight because of you.”
“We’re not going to sleep in the car,” Frannie interjected. “We’re going to get out of here.”
“When?” Alex demanded.
“As soon as Mr. Smith gets someone to help clear the drive,” Frannie replied.
“Why don’t you just call him ‘Dad’? He is our father,” Alex said.
“Do you think he really is our dad?” Emma asked her mother.
“I’m not sure,” she answered honestly.
“Of course he is. Look at him,” Alex ordered. “And remember, he’s got the tattoo.”
Just then, the subject of their conversation came walking toward the car. Frannie climbed out of the station wagon to hear what he had to say.
“The storm cut a pretty wide path. Trees are down all over the area. I couldn’t find anyone to help with this mess.” He waved the flashlight in the direction of the fallen trees. “You’ll have to spend the night here.”
“We can’t.” She folded her arms across her chest. “That’s simply not an option.”
“Unfortunately, it’s your only option,” he retorted.
“Don’t say that,” she said, although she knew it was the truth.
“The only decision you need to make is whether you want to spend the night in your car or come inside. I have extra beds.” He sounded as if he was as tired as she felt.
Frannie wanted to tell him that she and her children would spend the night in the car, yet she knew it would be foolish. It wouldn’t be wise to allow three kids in damp clothes to sleep in a station wagon that would provide little protection from the cool temperatures often found in the north woods. She really had no choice but to accept his hospitality.
“We’ll come inside,” she told him, then opened the car door. “Emma, grab Luke’s bag, will you? We’re going into Mr. Smith’s house.”
“We’re not going to sleep here, are we?” Alex asked, as they followed Joe Smith back to the house.
“Just for tonight,” Frannie replied.
“I don’t want to sleep in the same house as him,” Alex t
old his mother in a low voice that carried on the night air.
Frannie very much wanted to say, “I don’t, either,” but she managed to bite her tongue.
At the house Joe held the door open as they all filed back inside.
“What’s going on?” the Admiral asked when he saw them.
“Fallen trees are blocking the drive. Frannie and her children are going to have to spend the night,” Joe explained.
“Where are they going to sleep?” the elderly man wanted to know. “We only have three beds.”
“Don’t worry about it, Dad. We’ll make it work.”
The look Alex gave his mother told her he had his doubts.
Then Joe Smith said, “If you follow me, I’ll show you where the guest bedroom is.” Frannie followed him down the hallway, pulling Luke by the hand, the twins right behind them.
Joe Smith flipped on a light switch that illuminated a bedroom with a large four-poster bed carved out of pine. “Two can sleep in here and two in my room.”
“Your room?” Frannie eyed him suspiciously.
“It’s right next door. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
“That’s not necessary. The four of us can stay here,” she told him, eyeing the double bed.
“There’s no need to crowd four people in one bed.”
He disappeared briefly, then returned carrying several white T-shirts that he tossed on the bed. “Here—You can sleep in these.”
“I can sleep in my underwear. I do at home all the time,” Alex announced with a bravado Frannie wished he’d put away.
“You’re not supposed to, are you, Mom?” Emma looked up at Frannie, who really didn’t want to be discussing sleeping apparel.
Apparently, neither did Joe, for he said, “If anyone’s hungry, there’s plenty to eat in the kitchen.”
“No, I think we’re fine,” Frannie answered, although she was anything but fine. She was a basket of nerves. If it turned out that Joe Smith was Dennis Harper…She shook her head and refused to even consider that possibility. It was much less stressful to think of him as a stranger than as the man who used to be her husband.
“The bathroom’s across the hall.” He showed her where linens were kept and cautioned her that the water in the shower became hot very quickly.