Lonely Souls

by Rosemary Fifield

  He and Larry would have some work to do this morning in order to reach some of their tanks. A good thirty inches of snow lay atop everything, plus the tanks beside town roads would be plowed in. They wouldn’t even begin to boil until evening and would probably have to pull an all-nighter. His parents wouldn’t be happy. It was Easter Sunday, and they would want him to go to church and then join them at his sister’s house for a big ham dinner. But that wasn’t going to be possible. Likewise, he didn’t plan on answering any fast squad calls today unless, God forbid, they involved his own family.

  Dawson was mucking out the cows after the morning milking. He was tired today and his back hurt. When he finally finished snow removal last night, it was too late to take his ride, and so he had just gone into the darkened house and gone to bed. Now he wanted to ask Shelby to massage his shoulders and back, but he wasn’t sure he should. No doubt she would do it, but he would just be torturing himself, having her hands on him like that, knowing it meant nothing to her and everything to him.

  He finished in the barn, then slowly worked his way through the ell and into the house. It was Easter Sunday, and after church his ma planned to go to Natalie’s house, to bring the kids the chocolate bunnies she had bought. She had asked Dawson to come along, but he wasn’t crazy about the idea. Natalie’s kids were too undisciplined for him, plus he had never gotten along well with her husband. Originally, he had hoped to have some private time with Shelby, but after overhearing her conversation with Shane, that idea no longer held the promise it once had. He would rather take out the snowmobile and go see someone who would be happy to see him. Shelby could go with his mother if she didn’t already have plans with Shane.

  The three of them ate breakfast together, and after cleaning up, Miriam went off to prepare herself for church. Shelby declined the invitation to join her and said she would be waiting for a call from Shane. He was scheduled to be back from New York by noon today and said he had brought her a gift.

  Dawson excused himself from the table and went up to his room. He had not slept well the night before, and he needed a nap. But the ache in his shoulders and back made it hard for him to get comfortable, and his mind wouldn’t stop reliving the conversations he and Shelby had had in the past few days. Instead of understanding her better, he was more confused than ever about what she wanted and where their relationship might be heading, if anywhere. When the phone rang downstairs, he made no effort to get out of bed to answer it. He knew it would be Shane checking in to make plans with her for the remainder of the day. He closed his eyes and told himself he needed to let her go. There were other places he could put his affections. His shoulders relaxed and he let his mind go blank, and soon he was sound asleep.

  Miriam stayed after the Easter service to serve coffee and pastries in the church basement with her fellow members of the Ladies Aid Society. She had decided to distance herself from the dance going on between Sonny and Shelby. It was too easy for her to become emotionally involved in his life. She wanted so badly for this boy to be happy, and happiness always seemed to elude him. She had never understood why he didn’t love Cassie. She was a strong, capable young woman with a good heart and a clear head, exactly the kind of person he needed to work beside him and make a good life. But it wasn’t meant to be, and, ultimately, that was none of Miriam’s business. Meanwhile, she had come to love Shelby like a daughter and also wanted the best for her. But that didn’t necessarily mean that the two of them belonged together.

  Sonny was not interested in going to his sister’s house, and so Miriam went straight to Natalie’s when she finished at the church. Her youngest daughter had always been Nate’s favorite, not only because she was named after him, but because she shared many of his less endearing characteristics. Natalie was headstrong and primarily self-serving in her actions, interested in others basically for the purpose of seeing what she might get out of them. While Miriam helped her prepare dinner, Natalie lectured her mother about the free ride she was giving Shelby, a woman who could obviously pay her way and was taking advantage of Miriam’s big heart and simple ways. Yes, she realized that her brother had been accused of raping the woman, but how did anyone know what had really happened there? Sonny was too blinded by his ridiculous crush on a cripple to ever question whether it was possible his own brother had been set up. And what was that about, anyway? Because if he was looking for someone he could take care of for the rest of his life, how about considering the fact that the ten acres Nate and Miriam had given to her were basically worthless, and her children were just as worthy as Sonny’s–if not more so–to share in any wealth to be generated from the entire Penfield estate.

  Miriam knew better than to argue with her. She loved her grandchildren and did not want to be cut off from them, something of which Natalie was capable if challenged. She did not need to defend Sonny or the decision to give him the farm. He was the only one who would make something of it, and he was proving that to her every day. So she let Natalie talk and she kept her own counsel, which ultimately drove Natalie nuts. Her inability to get her mother riled up was one of Natalie’s biggest frustrations.

  Cassie experienced her first pain shortly after noon. Her family was planning to have its big meal in the evening, and she was putting the turkey into the oven when the first contraction struck. It took her by complete surprise, a sharp cramp that started in her lower back and swept around to encompass her considerable girth before finally subsiding. At first she thought it was because she was bending over at the waist, but when a second one followed after she straightened up, she had to consider that it might be something other than a pulled muscle.

  She closed the oven door and immediately sat down, hoping to discourage the process. Amy had gone to her friend’s house to go cross-country skiing on the new snow. Jeanine was here, but she couldn’t leave Floyd alone to drive Cassie to the hospital.

  Another pain tightened around her middle, and Cassie involuntarily gasped. They were coming relatively close together, and now she was frightened. She turned to Jeanine who was reading the Sunday funnies. “Have you cleared off the cars yet?”

  “No.”

  “I think maybe you should, at least one.”

  Jeanine looked up at her in irritation, and then her eyes widened. “Are you serious? Now? It’s too soon.”

  “It might be false labor, but it might not. And I think we should be ready.”

  “How can we do that? Amy’s not here to take care of dad. Maybe you should call Sonny.”

  “I don’t want to call Sonny. I’ll drive myself first.”

  “Are you crazy? You can’t drive yourself! What if you get a pain and go off the road? Jeezum, just call Sonny.”

  Another pain squeezed her in a vice-like grip. “Oh my god,” she gasped, then waited for it to subside. “We can take Dad with us.”

  “Cass, he’s not going to want to do that. If you won’t call Sonny, I will. You know he’ll take you.”

  “Call Amy’s friend.”

  “She said they were all going skiing. They’re probably not even there. I’m telling you, call Sonny!”

  Cassie drew a deep breath, then reluctantly rose to her feet and walked to the phone. She dialed Penfield’s number and waited. The phone rang and rang.

  “They’re not home. They’re probably in church. Oh, no.” A rush of hot fluid was running down her leg. “This is it. My water broke.”

  “Oh my God!” Jeanine was getting visibly agitated. She looked at their father, sleeping in his chair. “Who else can you call? Marcia?”

  Cassie pressed the receiver button, then dialed Marcia’s number. No answer. “Where’s the phone book? Get me the phone book. Look up Arthur Boardman.”

  Jeanine found the phone book and flipped through the pages while another pain, stronger now, tightened around Cassie’s abdomen. Jeanine read her the number and Cassie dialed.

  Claire Boardman answered the phone. “No, dear, Marcia’s not here. We haven’t seen her all day. She said
she might be busy today. I’m not sure what she’s doing. Are you okay?”

  Cassie assured the elderly woman she was fine. There was no way she would ask Teddy’s parents to come out on the snow-covered roads to take her to the hospital. She’d call for an ambulance first.

  Grant. She would try Grant. “Look up Grahame McIan.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Just do it!”

  Jeanine read her the number. The phone rang several times, then went to an answering machine.

  “Shit! Everybody’s gone! Ow!” She doubled over in pain.

  “What about that guy you worked for? The good-looking one. Is he around?”

  “Shane? I don’t know.” Cassie knew that number by heart, and she dialed it.

  “Hello?” His voice had never sounded so sweet.

  “Shane? Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re there! This is Cassie! I’m in labor, and I need someone to take me to the hospital. Can you do it? I know it’s a lot to ask but …”

  “Of course. Tell me how to find you.” She heard him put his hand over the phone and say, “It’s Cassie. She’s in labor.” Then he said to her, “I’ll bring Shelby with me. She’s here, and she’s very excited.”

  Cassie gave him detailed directions, then hung up the phone and turned to her sister. Jeanine’s eyes were wide and her face pale. “I need towels so I don’t mess up their car. And my bag from the bedroom. It’s going to be okay,” Cassie smiled weakly. “Shane’s coming for me.”

  Grant and Larry worked all afternoon clearing the snow away from their roadside gathering tanks and pumping the accumulating sap into the big tank on the back of Grant’s truck. At three-fourteen a fast squad call came through on his beeper for someone on Reservoir Road in North Chatham who had sprained his back while shoveling snow and was unable to get out of his chair. Grant shook his head and continued to pump sap up into his tank. Someone else would have to take that call.

  They drove back to the sugarhouse around four-thirty and parked at the top of the hill. The sap would now flow by gravity from the truck’s tank to the holding tank behind the sugarhouse. He and Larry had emptied the individual buckets on the trees around the sugarhouse earlier in the day, tramping through the woods on snowshoes to unbury the buckets, brushing the silly-looking dunce caps of snow from their lids and digging them out of their snowy tombs. Now it was finally time to boil all that sap.

  Grant was about to start down to the sugarhouse when his father called his name. He turned to see Grahame slipping and sliding toward him on the packed snow. “There was a phone message from Cassie Marsh. She said to call her house if we got the message, so I did and her sister said she’s gone into labor. She’s at Cottage Hospital in Wild River. I guess she was looking for a ride but she found one. I just thought you might want to know.”

  Grant nodded, grateful he had missed the original call. Sitting with Cassie through labor was the last thing he wanted to do just now. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “Oh, and there was another one. From Corey Sloan. She said to give her a call when you can.”

  Grant frowned. “Okay. Any idea why?”

  “No idea, son. How’s the sap running?”

  Grahame followed him down to the sugarhouse and stayed for half an hour or so, while Larry started the fire in the arch and Grant adjusted the flow of sap running into the back pan and set up the filters. Steam was just beginning to rise from the pans when Grahame announced he was returning to his house to see about acquiring a ham sandwich for supper. He offered to bring one to Grant, but Suzanne had already provided similar sandwiches for Larry and him, so Grant declined. His father left and Grant returned to monitoring the progress in the pans as the sap began to heat.

  “Attention, Wild River Ambulance, Chatham Fast Squad!” Grant’s beeper put out its two-toned alarm specific to Chatham and the tone for the Wild River Ambulance Service. “Attention, Wild River Ambulance, Chatham Fast Squad! Report with two ambulances to the Arthur Boardman residence on Deerkill Road for a medical emergency; no details available at this time. That’s two ambulances and the Chatham Fast Squad to the Arthur Boardman residence on Deerkill Road for a medical emergency of an unknown nature, no details available at this time.”

  Larry frowned at him. “Two ambulances? Isn’t that kind of weird? What did they do? Have simultaneous heart attacks?”

  “I don’t know, but two ambulances doesn’t sound good. I may have to go.”

  Larry grunted.

  Grant turned up the volume on his beeper, hoping to hear others sign on, knowing he could not leave Larry here alone with a full firebox and a load of heating sap.

  The beeper blared again. “Attention, Wild River Ambulance, Chatham Fast Squad! A correction on the residence. Repeat: a correction on the residence. Report with two ambulances to the Teddy Boardman residence on Deerkill Road. That’s the Teddy Boardman residence on Deerkill Road for an unknown medical emergency. State police are on their way.”

  “What the hell would that be, like a gas leak or something?” Larry mumbled.

  Grant felt the blood drain from his face. Something had happened to Marcia. “I’ve got to go. Can I take your truck?”

  Larry’s eyes widened in protest, but he said nothing as he rummaged through the pockets of his vest, then tossed his keys to Grant. Grant yelled, “Sorry!” as he ran from the building and out into the darkness, slipping and sliding in the icy snow as he worked his way to the top of the hill. Larry’s pickup truck was parked beside his; the sap was still running from the tank on Grant’s truck through the long line down to the sugarhouse. He was breathing hard as he scrambled up into the cab of Larry’s truck, started it, and drove through the darkness down the long snow-lined driveway to the county road below.

  His heart was pounding wildly as he raced through Chatham Center with the truck’s flashers on. He barely noticed that the house lights were now on throughout the village. Two ambulances going to Marcia’s place. Two. And the state police. None of it made sense.

  “Attention Wild River Ambulance. State police are on the scene, advising you can come in slowly. I repeat, state police are on the scene, advising you can come in slowly.”

  Come in slowly. Apparently it wasn’t such a big deal after all. Still, the fast squad always continued to respond.

  John Millstone signed on with Rescue One as Grant turned onto the state highway. A car was on the road ahead of him, and Grant cursed himself for not having his own truck with its rotating red light. He honked his horn and flashed the pickup’s headlights, and the car pulled over. Grant sped around it, knowing the driver was cursing him out the entire time.

  The beeper blared its tones once more. “Attention Chatham Fast Squad! Be advised, the state police are requesting you to hold at the junction of Highway 19 and Deerkill Road. I repeat, state police are requesting that you hold at the junction of Highway 19 and Deerkill Road.”

  Why would they hold the fast squad from coming to the scene? That was absurd! Was the whole thing a misunderstanding? But why keep them away? Unless … A terrible coldness suddenly washed over Grant and he could barely breathe. Calm down. Calm down. For Marcia’s sake, calm down. Deerkill Road was coming up on his right, and this was where he was supposed to stop and wait. But that just didn’t feel right; he had to get closer than this and find out what was going on.

  He slowed down as he approached the turn and looked in all directions. He was the first one on the scene; no one was here to witness his disobeying orders from the dispatcher. He killed his headlights and flashers, then turned down the unlit country road. In the distance, too far away for him to discern any details yet, the brilliant glow of revolving blue lights filled the nighttime sky. Many blue lights. More than one state police car had descended on Marcia’s trailer. His heart was pounding wildly as he drove closer. Her trailer would be coming up on the right soon. This time of year, the surrounding area on both sides of the road was relatively flat–just snow-covered corn fields in all directions. He should be
able to see the trailer’s familiar bay window by now, unless the snow had piled so high on that end as to cover it. So why couldn’t he see it? Had the trailer itself caught fire or exploded? But they hadn’t called out the firefighters ….

  And then he realized why he couldn’t see the end of her trailer, what was blocking his view of the lamp-lit window he knew so well from this approach: Teddy’s flat-bed rig was sitting in the freshly plowed driveway.

  Ahead, a police car was parked cross-wise in the road, and beside it, the familiar hat of a state trooper was silhouetted against the pulsing azure sky. Grant pulled Larry’s truck to the side of the road and parked it, then stepped down and started toward the scene with his first aid bag in his hand. The police officer spotted him immediately.

  “Stop! State Police! Stop right there!”