Winter Chill

by Joanne Fluke

  There were five people ahead of her, and the milk was cold against her arm. Marian shifted it to her other hand and juggled the box of cereal. Suddenly the picture on the box registered in her mind. Froot Loops. Laura’s favorite cereal, the only kind she would eat. Marian and Dan hated it.

  The box of cereal slipped from her nerveless fingers. What was she doing? Laura was gone. There was no reason to buy Froot Loops now.

  Tears came to her eyes, and Marian blinked them back. It was no use. She was going to cry right here in the store. She set the milk down in a stray shopping cart and ran out the door. She didn’t stop running until she was safely in the van.

  It was a long time before she raised her head from the steering wheel. Then she glanced around her fearfully, hoping no one had noticed her dash from the store. The parking lot was full. People were doing their last-minute shopping after work. No one was staring at her. Everyone was in a hurry to get home.

  Tears were still running down her cheeks. Marian reached into her purse and took out the note from her baby. It was too dark to read it, but she knew the message. Laura loved her. Laura was watching her. Laura would think she was silly to cry over a box of Froot Loops.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” Marian whispered. “Mommies are silly sometimes. I just forgot for a minute, that’s all.”

  The street was full of traffic as she pulled out of the parking lot. Marian waited for a break in the traffic and drove toward home. It had been a long day, and she was tired.

  It was late. It seemed he’d been sleeping for hours when the noise awakened him. Marian was standing by the bookcase in her robe and slippers. She took an armload of books off the shelf and carried them into the living room. Something about the quiet way she moved disturbed him. He heard pages rustle. There was a series of thumps as she stacked the books on the table. Was this some sort of strange dream, or was Marian really dusting the bookshelves at this hour?

  Now she was back again, moving stealthily. She replaced the books she had taken and left with another armful. What was going on?

  He was about to call out to her when he realized what she was doing. Marian was looking for another note from Laura!

  What could he say? Dan tried to think of something, but he was just too sleepy. He heard her replace the rest of the books, and the light in the living room clicked off. When she slid into bed beside him, he reached out to cuddle her close. He was still trying to think of the right thing to say when he dropped off to sleep.

  In the morning she was cheerful, smiling as she brought in his breakfast. It was Wednesday. Dr. Hinkley was coming today. Marian was full of last-minute instructions, and there wasn’t time to say anything then. She had to hurry off to work. And now he was waiting for her to come home, hoping to see a smile on her face.

  Dan pushed the backrest to a more comfortable position and poured himself a cup of coffee from the thermos Marian had left this morning. Dr. Hinkley was concerned. He said Marian was worried about him in the house alone. He’d spent the entire time of the examination urging Dan to go back to work. Everyone seemed to be nagging him about work. Harvey and Drew wanted him back for the team’s sake. Dr. Hinkley wanted him back for Marian’s sake. And Dan admitted he should go back for his own sake. He was growing bitter and despondent cooped up in the house. All those arguments made perfect sense, but he couldn’t seem to force himself to go back.

  Dan tried to be objective. He honestly didn’t think a man in a wheelchair could coach hockey. They all wanted him back out of pity, and that was a damn poor reason. “Isn’t he brave?” they’d all say. “Poor man, he looks so pathetic. Did you know he used to play hockey in college? Now he can’t do a thing, but he’s still got his job. One thing about Nisswa. We take care of our own.”

  It was enough to make him sick! Dan knew his attitude wasn’t healthy, but he couldn’t seem to rise above it. If it weren’t for Marian, he’d give up for good.

  It was late. Mrs. Owens had stayed well over the half hour allotted for parent-teacher conferences, and then Harvey had wanted to talk. Marian hung her coat in the closet and pulled off her boots. She had to check on Dan. Perhaps he was in better spirits today.

  She’d been so full of hope yesterday, after Dr. Hinkley’s visit. But Dan refused even to talk about going back to work. He said he was thinking about it. And this morning he had been quiet and uncommunicative. She had been worried about him all day.

  He was asleep. Marian stood in the doorway and blinked back tears as the wave of despair she had been battling all day hit her with the force of a physical blow. Dan was unmoving, uncaring in his slumber. The small Christmas tree she’d set up at the foot of his bed was dark. She should have thought to put it on a timer. It was almost more than she could bear, seeing her husband here in the dark, with no cheerful lights to lift his spirits. She tiptoed to the foot of his bed and switched on the tree, hoping that he would wake with a smile and they could talk. But Dan’s eyelids didn’t even flicker as the tiny, colored bulbs cast a rosy glow over the room. Suddenly she had to get out, get away from the wasted man who was once her strength.

  The day’s mail was still in the box. Marian ran out the front door and dashed down the icy sidewalk to the mailbox. The hinge seemed to be stuck, and she pulled with all her strength to open it. There was a tiny plastic bottle of shampoo inside, a new-product sample. It had burst as it froze. Now there was shampoo ice all over the inside of the mailbox. When would out-of-state companies learn about Minnesota winters?

  She wiped off the mail as well as she could and carried it back to the house. There was a power bill, a campaign letter from their congressman, and a preprinted postcard.

  It was the final straw. Marian stared at the writing on the postcard, and tears came to her eyes. It was from Laura’s dentist in Brainerd, a reminder of her six-month appointment. She tried to stop crying, but it was no use. Laura was gone. She was foolish to pretend any longer.

  Marian climbed the stairs and opened the door to Laura’s room. She felt as if her head would split. She was on a roller coaster of emotion, and she had to get off.

  There were brief periods when she was happy, secure in her knowledge that Laura was with her. She would smile and laugh then. Her energy was high. Then her mood would change abruptly, and doubts would return. Was it foolish to believe that Laura was still here? There were no more notes. Had something happened to take her baby away forever?

  She stood in the doorway and closed her eyes, trying to bring back the comforting feeling that Laura was with her. The room seemed empty now, deserted. Marian picked up a dust cloth and wiped the top of the bookshelf. Then she rearranged Laura’s toys, as if the act of cleaning her baby’s room would bring her back.

  This time nothing helped. She couldn’t shake her terrible loneliness.

  “Where are you, Laura?” Her forlorn whisper hung in the silent room long after the words were spoken. There was no answer. Marian switched off the light and shut the door behind her, plunging the room into darkness again. Laura’s room. Laura’s toys. Laura’s clothes. Life was all so empty without Laura.

  Somehow she made it through supper, putting on a cheerful act for Dan. Then she sat at the kitchen table, correcting papers until the childish printing swam before her eyes.

  “I’m going for a walk, honey.” Marian raised her voice so Dan could hear it over the sound of the television. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “Wear my parka, Marian. It’s warmer than your coat. I just heard the news. It’s five below tonight.”

  It was clear and cold, a perfect December evening. Marian’s boots squeaked as she walked past the lighted houses. The Murphys were still up. They were probably waiting for Barbara to get home. She worked at the Tom Thumb until ten on weeknights.

  Marian’s breath sent up icy clouds of moisture that condensed in the air like smoke. Dan’s parka kept her toasty warm inside. It was made for subzero temperatures. She’d walk around the block once. Then she had to get back home.


  Irma Mielke hadn’t shoveled today, and her house was dark. Marian wondered whether she was visiting her son in Florida. Irma usually spent the month of December there. She always came back with a suntan that was the envy of everyone in Nisswa.

  The snow was trampled with the boot prints of neighborhood children. Marian could pick out Ricky Owens’s path. His boots were unique. Ricky’s father had carved initials in the bottom of the rubber.

  Marian followed the trail of ROs to the end of the block. Ricky had stopped at the park on his way home from school. There was a cluster of footprints near the Viking monument. Two other children wearing moon boots had joined him there.

  The park was deserted at this hour. Fir trees stretched up to tower over the surrounding houses, and the green-painted benches were covered with snow. Marian brushed off a bench with her glove and sat down for a moment. It was so quiet, she could hear her heart beat. There was only the sound of her breathing to mar the silence.

  She sat for long moments, staring up at the streetlight. A few lazy flakes of snow were falling, whirling and dancing in the circle of light. The snow stuck to her eyelids, and she brushed it away. The night was still and waiting. Was Laura up there somewhere, watching her?

  The park in the winter was a lonely place. Marian shivered slightly. Her toes were numb. She could feel the cold creep through the leather of her boots. She stood up and stomped her feet. Then she pushed her hands into the deep pockets of the parka and walked back the way she had come.

  “You know how I feel about it, Marian.” Dan’s voice was firm. “I won’t go back to work if I feel I can’t fulfill the terms of my contract.”

  “But how about the team, honey?” Marian made an effort to be cheerful as she brought in his morning coffee and sat next to him. “The boys simply won’t accept a substitute. They’re convinced that no one else can coach them. You could coach from the sidelines, couldn’t you? They really need you.”

  “Sure, I could coach from the sidelines.” Dan gave a bitter grin. “That’d be fine if I coached basketball or baseball. Hockey’s different, Marian. You’ve seen me out there with the team. You know how critical it is to demonstrate everything. How am I going to skate from a wheelchair? Tell me that!”

  “Now, honey, don’t get upset.” Marian tried to be calm and reasonable. “Why don’t you get Cliff Heller to do the demonstrations? I’m sure the boys will cooperate. They’re so anxious to get you back.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same, but it might just work.” Dan frowned thoughtfully. “That’s not a bad idea, Marian. I think Cliff could handle the demonstrations if I gave him some extra time. It might even be good for him. He wants to be a coach someday. I don’t know, Marian. . . . The thought of getting pushed to practice in a wheelchair is pretty hard for me to handle. Maybe I should give up coaching for good.”

  “Now, don’t be silly!” Marian reached out to take his hand. “You’re a wonderful coach, and it’s just plain ridiculous to talk that way. Before you know it, you’ll be right back out on the ice with the team. Dr. Hinkley’s sure your condition isn’t permanent. Wouldn’t it be dumb to give up your coaching job and then find yourself all recovered a week later?”

  “Maybe.” Dan met her eyes and then looked quickly away. In that brief contact, Marian saw his despair. Dan was convinced he wasn’t going to get better. He had lost hope.

  “I’ve got to run, or I’ll be late.” Marian got up and headed for the door. “Don’t forget that Ronnie’s dropping by this afternoon. I baked the rest of those cookies, and they’re in the jar in the kitchen.”

  “Have a good day, Marian.”

  She turned at the doorway, but Dan was already switching on the television. He sounded so sad and lonely that she hated to leave him. At least he’d have company today. Ronnie was coming in this afternoon. She hoped Ronnie would be persuasive. Going back to work was the only thing that would perk up Dan’s spirits.

  Dan switched off the television the moment she left. He needed to think. Marian was trying to hide it, but he saw how depressed she had been. He’d heard her moving around in Laura’s room when she thought he was asleep, and he knew exactly what she was doing. Marian was looking for another note from Laura. It had become an obsession with her. If he wrote another note, she’d be happy again.

  No. He couldn’t deceive her again. The notes might be bad for her in the long run. There had to be some other solution, some other way to bring her out of her depression.

  He knew what she wanted. Dan winced as he came to a painful decision. He had to conquer his fear and go back to work. It was the only thing that would help. If he went back to work, she could stop worrying about him. He’d be there, in the same building with her.

  There was a knock on the door, and Dan called out. Ronnie was early. In a way, he was glad Ronnie was here. He needed something to take his mind off his problems.

  “Hi, Marian!” Dan’s cheerful voice greeted her as she opened the front door. “Ronnie just left.”

  “Sounds like you had a good visit.” Marian rushed to the den and stopped at the doorway in sudden confusion. The formerly neat little room was a total disaster. Newspapers were spread out all over the bed, an open package of Doritos was leaning against the lamp, and the wastebasket was full of crumpled balls of notepaper. In the midst of it all, Dan was sitting propped up in bed, writing something on a clipboard.

  “Good heavens!” Marian leaned against the wall, staring at Dan. A smelly cigar was clamped, unlit, between his teeth. “What happened?”

  “Oh, I guess we made a mess.” Dan grinned up at her. “Ronnie was here all afternoon.”

  “And the cigar must be Ronnie’s contribution.” Marian wrinkled her nose as she picked up several beer cans and forced them into the overflowing wastebasket. “What are you doing, Dan?”

  “Ronnie saved all the sports pages for me.” Dan grinned and handed her the cigar. “Throw that away for me, will you, Marian? I don’t know how Ronnie can smoke these things.”

  “You’re working out hockey plays!” Marian bent over to look at the clipboard. “Does that mean you’re going back to work?”

  “I have to,” Dan said cheerfully. “Ronnie talked me into it. He laid down a fifty-dollar bet on the championship, and he can’t afford to lose it. If I don’t get back to work on Monday, he says he’ll switch his bet to Brainerd.”

  Marian stood still, staring at Dan’s clipboard. She could hardly believe her ears.

  A smile of genuine amazement flooded over her face. Dan looked so much better. Thank God for Ronnie Powell and his disgusting cigars!

  “Ronnie told me a new joke.” Dan gave her a rakish wink. “Did you hear about the Brainerd hockey team? It seems they all drowned.”

  “And why did they drown, Dan?” Marian played the straight man with a grin.

  “Their coach sent them out for spring training!”

  Marian groaned. “That’s about what I expected from Ronnie.”

  “Now, run off and let me go back to work.” Dan waved her away with a grin. “Oh, those cookies were good. Ronnie raided the cookie jar for us, so I won’t be hungry for a couple of hours. And, Marian? I really love you, honey.”

  She was still laughing as she went to the kitchen. The joke wasn’t really that funny, but she felt wonderful. Dan was going back to work. She’d make something special for supper to celebrate.

  Marian ran some water and washed the coffeepot. She took a roast from the refrigerator, seasoned it, and popped it in the oven. Next she’d roll out a piecrust and make Dan’s favorite apple pie for dessert.

  There was a Popsicle in the freezer, left over from summer. Yesterday the sight of Laura’s treat would have desolated her. Tonight it had no effect at all. She was happy. Dan was going back to work.

  Marian stopped and listened. She stood perfectly still and let the feeling of closeness wash over her.

  “Hello, baby!” she whispered. “Your daddy’s going back to work!”

 
; CHAPTER 7

  Dan arranged his books and papers again and looked up at the clock. His students would be here in five minutes. Marian had driven him to school early so he could get everything organized before his first class. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he had anticipated. His wheelchair fit neatly behind the desk. If he tried hard enough, he could almost make himself believe that he was sitting in a regular desk chair. Of course, he couldn’t get up and pace the way he usually did. And he supposed he’d have to appoint a scribe for each class, some student with good handwriting to make notes on the board.

  All in all, he felt much more confident than he had anticipated. Teaching history should be fairly easy, even from a wheelchair. The big problem would come in hockey practice.

  The bell rang, and students began to stream into the room. “Welcome back!” Ginny Davis gushed. “We really missed you, Mr. Larsen.”

  Jerry Lindstrom spoke up. “We had Mrs. Hendricks last week. She must be at least ninety. All we did was read.”

  “I’ll have to remember that if I’m ever gone again.” Dan grinned. “Somebody in this school should teach you boneheads to read.”

  There was a groan, and the class faced him expectantly. For a second Dan felt real panic. What did they want?

  Oh, yes. The absence slip. He got out his class roster and read off the names. It was strange how quickly he’d forgotten the routine.

  “Do you want me to write on the board, Mr. Larsen?” Ginny raised her hand. “I volunteer.”

  “Fine.” Dan beamed at her. He’d never been wild about Ginny before, but today she was a real sweetheart. “Write down ‘the Industrial Revolution. England. Eighteenth century.’”

  It was a total surprise when the bell rang. Time seemed to fly this morning. Dan dismissed his class and took a second to relax. So far, everything was going just fine. It had been a good lecture, and his class was attentive. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.