I shook my head. “I’m in the dark here, Jack.” A light hit me squarely in the face, and I squinted. “Jack!”
“Well, come on,” he said as though the whole situation were my fault.
I ground my back teeth in an effort to keep from blowing up. I pulled my arm up to shield the light from my eyes, then walked into the living room, where we’d dumped our coats before the power outage.
I retrieved his coat while he worked near the front door to tie off the rope. When I reached him, he’d gotten both ends tied off and was holding out his arms so I could slide the coat over them. “Just be careful,” I said.
Jack sighed. “Look, Goldie,” he said, resting a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t mean to be cross with you. But this isn’t going exactly as I planned.”
I stepped back, and his hand dropped from my shoulder to his side. “I know” was all I could say.
I stood in the open doorway and watched as my husband pulled the jacket hood on, then plowed—head first—toward where we’d parked the car, which was all but buried by the blinding snow. “Jack!” I called out, though I knew he couldn’t hear me. I watched the glow from the flashlight fade, swallowed up by the snowstorm. “Jack!” I yelled again. Still no answer. I stared at the line of rope as it pulled taut; then I wrapped my hand around it and tugged. It didn’t give, not a bit. “Jack!” I screamed again. Oh, Lord. Don’t let him die. I need him here long enough to... beat him up for getting Charlene Hopefield pregnant. And to take care of me.
I will admit, my prayers made no sense, not even to me.
The rope began to go slack in my hand; he was returning. Little by little the bouncing of light came toward me until a clear vision of my husband emerged, completely covered in snow, shivering in the frigid air, his arms wrapped around a bundle of wood.
“It’s not very much, is it?” I asked as he dropped it near the front door.
He shot me a hard look. “When the lights come back on, I can go get more.”
Minutes later Jack worked at building a fire while I lit the candles I’d found in one of the kitchen cabinets. The scent of warm vanilla filled the room.
I went to the table and began to fiddle with the radio. “Tonight ...” I caught the word, but it was replaced by more static. Jack turned toward me. “Keep doing that,” he said. “Whatever it is you’re doing, keep doing it.”
I wiggled the knob back and forth. “... with a wind chill of...” More static. I shifted closer to the table, as if my nearness would help. “... Jade Pass...” More static. “... not expected for some time...”
“What did they say about Jade Pass?” Jack stood at the fireplace now, which roared with light and heat.
“That’s all I could catch.”
Jack walked over, took the controls from my fingertips. “One of the biggest avalanches to hit this area in more than fifty years,” the reporter was saying before the static took over again.
I stood, grabbed Jack’s shirtsleeve, and tugged.
“Avalanche?” I whispered. “Do you think there was an avalanche at Jade Pass? Was that the rumbling we heard earlier?”
Jack walked over to the window and stared out, leaving me to sit again. “Had to have been. I thought it was trucks from the highway, but... I cannot believe this,” he said. “We’re stuck here.”
I felt my heart turn to bubblegum.
Jack began to get hungry. He’d gone out twice more to get two additional armloads of wood, using the same method as before. I’d stopped hollering his name after him, though. For the most part he’d just sat in front of the radio, still trying to get some news, barking at what little bit he managed to obtain. Clearly, we were in a rustic mountain cabin without electricity, behind a wall of snow, which was piling higher and higher around the cabin due to the snowdrifts. By morning we wouldn’t be able to get out of the front door.
I stayed on the sofa and read by the light of the fire, keeping my distance.
But around eleven, he walked over to the refrigerator and began to poke around. “What is this?” I heard him ask.
“What is what?”
“Is this hamburger quiche?”
“It is.” I didn’t bother to move.
“Why do we have that mess? You know I hate that stuff. Where’s the Mexican casserole I told you I was looking forward to having?” I listened—completely still—as the refrigerator door slammed shut and he stomped toward the living room area. “I’m starving here, Goldie.”
“I clearly remember you saying to me once that real men wouldn’t eat hamburger quiche unless they were under threat of starvation,” I said, not so much as raising my chin to look at him.
“And your point?”
Now I cast him a sideward glance. “My point is: you say you’re starving. Let’s put your theory to the test, shall we?”
He took another step toward me. “Do you mean to tell me that knowing I hate that stuff, you brought it anyway?”
I just smiled at him. “I happen to like it. This is my vacation too, isn’t it?”
Jack just turned and headed back to the kitchen. I held my breath as the refrigerator door opened again, then closed. The sound of the casserole dish being set on the countertop and the aluminum foil being peeled away reached me before another stomping of the feet toward where I sat. “You do know it’s cold, don’t you?”
“If you keep opening and closing that fridge door it won’t be for long. We may want to see about putting some of the perishables in the snow just outside the door.” I kept my tone very matter-of-fact.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jack shake his fist, though I knew he wasn’t about to hit me. Jack had never sunk that low. Low but not that low.
“Will you put some on a plate for me too?” I asked sweetly. “Oh, and I also brought some homemade sweet tea.”
“Well, at least you brought that,” he said, turning again.
“Oh, you know what?” I called after him. “I forgot; I didn’t bring tea. I brought Coke instead.”
“I hate Coke,” he barked. “You know I’m a Pepsi man.”
“Oh, dear. It’s been so long, I guess I forgot.”
Jack stomped back in again. “You did this on purpose. You never once intended to try to make our relationship work, did you? You just intended to come up here and torture me.”
I stood to attention. “You’d better believe I did.”
“But why?” he asked, spreading his arms wide. “Am I not doing enough to make up for everything, Goldie? You have to kill me with food poisoning too?”
“Food poisoning?” I let my shoulders sink a bit. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“I oughta...”
I placed my hands firmly on my hips. The fire crackled and popped as I spread my legs in my best defensive stance. I almost laughed at the thought of what I must look like. Wonder Goldie! “You oughta what? Are we back to playing that game again? You, the woolly-bully husband? Me, the dutiful, pitiful wife?”
The next thing I knew Jack had grabbed me, wrapped his arm around my waist, and pulled me down onto the floor, where a thick bearskin rug was spread romantically in wait. “Jack!” I shrieked, kicking my feet and pushing against the solidness of his shoulders. “Get off me! Get off of me!”
But Jack pinned my shoulders to the floor with the palms of his hands and smiled down at me in the same way he smiled at me all those years ago when we’d first met. For a moment I almost forgot all about Charlene Hopefield.
I wiggled again, trying to free myself. “Get off!”
Jack bent down and kissed me, a wet sloppy kiss, the kind he knows I can’t stand. I turned my head away from him.
“I’ll have you arrested, Jack Dippel.”
“Arrested?” He laughed.
“I will!”
“For what? Loving on my wife?”
I took a deep breath and bolted as hard as I could, freeing myself from him, leaving him to fall on his face. In spite of my fury I burst out laughing. It was truly a funn
y sight; this grown ox of a man flat on his stomach as though he’d fallen from a thousand feet. Jack looked at me and began to laugh too, rolling over onto his back and spreading his arms wide. “Ah, Goldie,” he said, and for a moment I saw the young man I’d fallen in love with. “You got me. If I know you, you’ve probably got some deal with God going. That’s why the avalanche. You’re gonna watch me starve to death for all my sins against you.” His breathing was heavy and irregular, and for a moment I wondered if he were going to have a heart attack.
I stood over him, torn between dropping to my knees and wrapping my arms around him, and kicking him in the ribs. Don’t do it, Goldie, a voice inside said. Don’t fall for his cuteness, no matter what. He may be your husband, but he’s still the jerk who impregnated Charlene Hopefield. A mental picture of her standing in my living room swooped in between us. I took a step backward.
“I’ll see what I can find for us to eat,” I said and turned toward the kitchen.
Just then, I heard another rumble, this one stronger than the one before. “Jack!” I screamed, then stumbled to the floor.
17
Are You Talkin’ to Me?
His date with Britney had gone well, in spite of the blizzard swarming around them. They’d made a slow trek to Breck to eat at Bubba Gump’s, had to wait nearly forty-five minutes for a table, and had not started back until about two hours later. But the good company and excellent food had made the dangerous drive worth it.
Britney had somehow managed to snuggle close to him across the console and in the cold of the Jeep. Clay was content. Britney wasn’t Donna by any means, but she was sweet and funny and she smelled good.
Gracious, did she smell good.
He took her directly home, telling her that if he were her parents he’d be a nervous wreck. Like the gentleman he was, he walked her to the door but didn’t kiss her. Kisses, he decided, shouldn’t be thrown around willy-nilly, and he told Britney so as they walked toward her front door.
Oddly, she agreed with him. “Believe it or not,” she told him, “I’ve never kissed a guy.”
“You’re kidding.”
Britney shook her head. “No. I’m saving my kisses for the man I marry.” Then she smiled up at him, and Clay swallowed hard.
Donna
18
High Altitude Directions
I’d gotten the call from dispatch as I was watching Hollywood Nightly at the Gold Rush Tavern. I was on duty, of course, so I was the only one in the place without a beer in my hand.
I was surprised Wade wasn’t perched on his normal stool. He was probably in his trailer, tilting back a cold one.
“Make yourself at home,” the barmaid called out to me. What was her name... Dee Dee McGurk? She was carrying a heavy tray of beers. “What can I getcha?”
“I’m on duty,” I replied, “but I’ll take a 7Up.”
“Coming right up.”
I found a vacant bar stool just as Hollywood Nightly’s theme music began to play. The bar patrons whooped as Kendra Goodall appeared on the screen with... I squinted. Who was that behind her? Lisa Leann? I shook my head. Oh, brother.
Just then, my radio crackled. A voice asked, “Donna, you there?”
Why hadn’t I thought to call in a 10-7 so I could sit back and watch the show?
I picked up the radio and walked to the bar entrance, where it was a little quieter.
“Dispatch, Donna here. What’s up? Over.”
I could hear Irene’s voice crackle out of the radio. “Donna, I know this is out of our jurisdiction, but I thought you’d want to know. Over.”
Behind me, the bar patrons hooted. I was too far away from the TV to hear Kendra’s voice, but I could see Vonnie Westbrook’s picture appear on the screen. I cringed at the display of my good friend on this national gossip show.
I spoke into the radio. “Know what? Over.”
“An avalanche over at Summit Ridge. Isn’t that where your friend Goldie Dippel and the coach went? Over.”
I felt my blood run cold. “How bad is it? Over.”
“They don’t know yet, but Jade Pass is completely blocked. No one will be coming or going that way till spring. Over.”
“Thanks for the heads-up. I’d better call her daughter to see if she’s checked in with her mother. Over.”
“I knew I could count on you,” Irene said. “Got a pen? I’ve already looked up Olivia’s number.”
I wrote it down. Before I could put my pad away, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to look into Dee Dee’s worried blue eyes as she handed me a cold glass of 7Up, served up with a straw. For a moment her eyes held mine. There was something familiar about them. But what?
Dee Dee said, “Donna, you’d better come inside. There’s something on the program you need to see.”
The bar was exploding with whistles and calls of “Hey, Donna, baby,” as my image appeared on the TV screen holding my badge up to the camera. As if in a trance, I walked past Dee Dee so I could get close enough to hear Kendra.
“I am the law,” I was saying as the patrons hooted. Allen, one of the locals, jeered, “And I’ve got the speeding tickets to prove it,” while the room applauded him.
Kendra Goodall appeared on the screen, “And just who is this young deputy sheriff who’s engaged to Hollywood royal David Harris?”
Suddenly Larry’s image appeared in living color. He looked like a cartoon character still in his dirty apron and hairnet. “Deputy Donna?” he said. “Yeah, we may have gone out. But she’s a tough one. She even gave me a ticket, despite our, ah, affection for one another, if you know what I mean.”
The patrons whooped and cheered.
I crossed my arms. Affection? Larry was a bigger creep than I’d realized.
Kendra asked, “But isn’t there some mystery associated with the deputy?”
Larry lowered his voice, like he was betraying a confidence. “Yeah. I heard some kid died, and Donna had something to do with it.”
My heart literally stopped as the noise level of the room dropped to dead quiet. Larry continued, “Clay, he’s our local reporter, well, he won’t report it, but I got my sources.”
Kendra’s face appeared on the screen. “Could it be that David Harris’s Deputy Donna is a real killer? The fact is, we were able to confirm this report. According to the Denver Post, in an article that ran only a week ago, the deputy is being sued by the family of infant Bailey Ann Long for monetary damages in her death. You can be sure we will follow up on this story. Back to you, Alex.”
Dee Dee was still standing by my side. “You okay, Donna?”
I turned away and tried to shrug off my shock. “I have to be. I’ve got to deal with what’s looking like an emergency.” Though my blood was boiling, I turned and walked back to the quiet entrance and pulled out my cell phone. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on that Larry. First, he hangs outside my house to spy on me, though I never found any footprints in the snow to prove it; and now he defames me on national TV. I shook my head. I’d have to deal with him later, I decided as I dialed Olivia’s number.
She answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Olivia, it’s Donna.”
“Hi, deputy, I just saw you on TV. I, uh, I guess congratulations are in order. You’re really engaged to that Harris guy?”
“Do you really believe everything you hear on TV?”
“Oh. Guess not. Is that why you called?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m calling about your mom and dad,” I said. “When’s the last time you heard from them?”
I could hear Hollywood Nightly’s theme music coming through the phone. “Hang on,” she said, “let me turn this down.”
She came back a second later. “It’s funny you should call and ask that. Mom left me the number of the cabin they’re staying in, and Tony and I were going to let Brook call them after dinner tonight, but when we dialed the number, all we got was some sort of weird pulsating tone.”
“D
id you try their cell phones?”
“Mom doesn’t have one. But it sounds like Dad’s is either off or out of range.”
“Not good,” I said.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
I grimaced. I hated this part of my job. Very quietly and steadily I said, “We’ve gotten a report of an avalanche in the area.”
I could hear Olivia gasp.
“Now, there’s probably nothing to be worried about, but I’m thinking of heading on up there, just to check things out.”
“Oh, Donna. I think we’d better go to the Lord in prayer.”
Like that will help. “I’ll tell you what, Olivia. I can’t take the time for that, but you and Tony should. Okay?”
She agreed, and I hung up.
I felt a tap on my shoulder again. I turned around to see Dee Dee looking at me. “Everything all right?”
“Swell,” I said.
“Then, do you have a moment to talk? There’s something I need to tell you.”
Uh-oh. Whatever Dee Dee McGurk had to say, I had a feeling it couldn’t be good.
I shook my head. “Sorry, maybe another time. I’ve got an emergency situation I need to deal with.”
She nodded, looking so worn out I almost felt sorry for her.
I pushed open the glass door. “Catch you later.”
Dee Dee walked to the door and watched me scurry through the whirling snow to my Bronco. She called after me, “Be careful.”
I sent a wave in her direction as I got out my cell phone and called my dad. He told me that Wade owned a pretty good snowmobile. Maybe he’d let me use it. I gunned my truck out of the parking lot and raced to Wade’s trailer.
I hurried over to the trailer park, just behind the Higher Grounds Café. I was a little surprised at the appearance of his trailer. It looked a lot neater than the last time I was here. Of course, this fresh snow covered all sins, like Wade’s collection of beer bottles that always lined the yard. I bounded up his recently shoveled steps. That’s odd, I thought. Wade usually waited a week to shovel his steps, and only did it if, in his own words, “they really need it.”
The Potluck Club—Takes the Cake Page 11