It turned upward slightly.
Working his way around the box, he pounded the end of the chisel, forcing the lid out of place. The process lasted a few minutes. He took a quick breath and gave the chisel a good whack, popping the lid partly off. A hiss of air rushed out.
The lid remained partially attached to the box, marred and twisted tin, adhered only by distorted metal clinging together. He put his tools down.
Peering into the gap, he could see a chain poking out from a wad of tissue paper. Robert grabbed the lid and tried to peel it back, but the contorted tin held fast.
He gripped a corner of the lid with both hands, and yanked hard; it bent backward, but the lid didn’t come entirely loose.
He slipped his hand into the opening. The metal box felt extremely cold, numbing his hand.
His fingers lost dexterity from the chill. Robert scratched around, straining, and finally procured the contents of the little tin box. A wad of waxy paper concealed the object.
Peeling back the tissue, Robert was amazed by the find.
Five
Eliza looked at him from across the table. She’d finished her eggs and quietly sipped coffee. Noticing her fingers, wrapped around the mug, Robert figured she had warmed up a bit.
“What were you thinking about?” she asked.
“Nothing much,” Robert said. “How are you feeling now?”
“Better. I was really starving.”
“Those eggs hit the spot,” he said, considering whether to discuss what he was really thinking.
She shrugged. Her long blonde hair fell in front of her blue eyes. When she pushed it away, he noticed that Eliza still looked pale.
“Have you been able to warm up?”
“It feels warmer, but my hands are still numb.”
“You should sit by the stove,” he said. “And try to get your circulation back.”
“I’m perfectly fine.”
But she didn’t look fine. Robert thought she looked the same as when he picked up the spray can. Her skin was pale all over, and her lips were purple.
“This is getting ridiculous. We should just go pick up a generator and get the house warmed up.”
“If they have any left.”
“This is the first day of a smaller storm,” he replied. “If we get going soon, they’ll have one. The generators sold out after the big ice storm when power had been out a week. Nobody knew when it would come back on.”
“We’ll have to get someone to hook it up.”
“That’s the tricky part,” he admitted. “An electrician has to put in a panel near the circuit breakers.”
“Getting an electrician to come out will be expensive.”
“Doesn’t Nathan do some work on the side?”
“We could call him, I suppose.”
“You seem against doing this.”
She finished her coffee and sat up. “Well, it’s a lot of money, just to get through a couple of days.”
“This type of storm has been happening too often.”
“And I don’t mind roughing it for a couple days… now and then,” she said. “If the kids were still in the house, then I could see spending the money. But an old house like this already costs a lot to maintain.”
“So, you don’t want to get a generator?”
“Fine, but I’m not even sure you can get one,” she added. “Power is likely out all over. Stores will be closed.”
He grinned. “The hardware store has a generator, so it will be open.”
“Okay, I’ll call Nathan,” she replied. “But I don’t want to trouble my brother’s best friend if it’s an inconvenience.”
“That sounds fair enough.”
Robert stood to take his plate into the kitchen. He looked toward the large window just beyond the farm table. A gray morning light shone through the glass.
Outside, ice clung to tree branches, encapsulating them. Many limbs drooped from the weight, and several birch trees were bent over. Some of them touched the snow-covered ground.
A chill emanated from the floor and ran up his legs, then it tightened around his spine.
He hoped the generator would solve their problem.
Six
A subtle change overcame Eliza. She seemed withdrawn after discussing the generator, and Robert didn’t understand why it would upset her. They weren’t rolling in dough, but everything was going along fine.
Sipping a second cup of coffee, he glanced out the window at the havoc from the storm. Thick bands of ice wrapped around the power lines. Icicles hung from the dipping lines and the eaves of the farmhouse. He suspected that lines were down everywhere and power would be out for days.
Robert finished his coffee, and then brought the cup over to the sink. Eliza stood at the camp stove, heating up some sausages.
“There’s one for you if you want it.”
“Any coffee left?”
“A little bit,” she replied, nodding. “You can have the rest of it.”
Robert leaned over and kissed her shoulder. Eliza’s skin felt cold, frigid; she trembled at his touch.
“Are my lips too cold?”
“Not really. It just tickled a little, that’s all.”
“We really could use the generator,” he said, reaching for more coffee. “It’s cold enough to be unhealthy. Maybe even a little dangerous.”
“That’s only for the elderly and infirm.”
“This type of environment could lead to hyperthermia,” he explained. “Your body temperature drops. You don’t realize how bad, then eventually you freeze to death.”
“We’re moving around and quite dry, so that won’t happen.”
“All the same,” he said, “I think you should sit by the woodstove… and warm up a bit while I’m gone.”
“Sit and do what?” she snapped.
“Catch up on some reading, or do paperwork.”
“I feel fine,” she said. “Just a little cold.”
He walked away and stood by a window. Robert ate the sausage, holding it with a shred of paper towel. After taking a gulp of coffee, he glanced outside. The sun had come out, reflecting off the snow and ice, but nothing was melting.
In the past, he’d seen the sun rise after an ice storm; it would slowly melt the ice, causing the birch trees, one by one, to snap loose and stand up. Still burdened with ice, the released trees wouldn’t straighten immediately. Sometimes it took days or months for the tress to fully straighten out, and some would remain slightly curved, forever, reminiscent of a lost battle with nature.
Robert finished the sausage and drank the rest of his coffee. After putting his mug in the sink, he climbed the steep, narrow back staircase, and then plodded down the hall to their bedroom.
He put on jeans and a flannel shirt. Icicles jutted from the eaves; some were two feet long. Eliza’s change in demeanor was unsettling. Her reaction to the cost of a generator didn’t make sense. It made him wonder if there was something else wrong. Whenever she became withdrawn, he got anxious that she’d become detached, like in the past, brooding over misgivings that always led to turmoil.
Looking at the property out back, snow covered the field, with a layer of ice on top. This storm had brought a lot of precipitation in a short time. If it had been springtime, roads would have flooded. Beyond the field, deep woods led to a marsh. A few evergreens were snapped off two thirds of the way up the tree trunk.
After he dressed, Robert pounded down the back staircase, puffs of cold air emanating from his breath, and then he stepped into the kitchen. Eliza stood by the sink cleaning up from breakfast. A jug of water from the basement rest on the counter. She used it for rinsing their plates.
He walked over and cupped his hands on her shoulders. She felt cold. Frigid.
Eliza turned toward him. Her eyes were bright, but seemed distant. Pecking her on the cheek, Eliza’s skin felt even colder than before.
“I’m going down to the hardware store,” he said, stepping away. “But I’ll f
eed the stove before leaving.”
“You won’t be gone long, right?”
“This shouldn’t take more than an hour,” he said, reaching for logs. “But you never know with things like this.”
“There might be people looking for specialty items. It’s not like going in and buying a paintbrush.”
Lifting the iron lid to the woodstove, he saw the fuel had burned down. Robert stacked three new logs in the stove, zigzagging them back and forth.
“This should last until I get back,” he said, “but you need to check it. If it’s low, just throw another log on.”
“I’m perfectly capable,” she replied. “Stacking wood and taking care of the stove were just a few of my chores growing up.”
“Sometimes I forget that you took care of this house long ago.”
“That’s what happens when you have older siblings that go off to college.”
“What happens?”
“You end up doing what they did, all by yourself.”
“Maybe that’s why you’re so productive.”
She smiled.
Robert headed toward the backdoor. “Well, I have to get going.”
“See you soon,” she said.
Opening the door, he glanced back and she leaned over the counter. “And put it on the hardware store account for now.”
He nodded, closing the door behind him.
The backdoor led to a gathering room that was only used in mild weather. It had windows running down both sides, allowing spring breezes to flow through the room.
Shivering from the cold, he quickly walked toward the workshop doorway. Huge moist clouds puffed from his breath. He suspected it was slightly above freezing. Robert opened a door and entered his workshop. The room connected to a huge barn.
He entered the barn, slid open the doors, and then got into his 1969 Chevy pickup truck. Robert inserted a key into the metal dashboard, turned it, and the big engine rumbled to life.
Slowly nosing the truck out of the barn, he eased onto the driveway and felt the weight of the truck gripping the icy pavement. A heap of sand weighed down the back of the truck. Robert got halfway down the driveway when the truck slid. He cut the wheel and mashed on the brake, but it continued to careen toward the road.
An oncoming car closed in quickly. The hood of the truck jutted into the roadway, then the front tires caught on asphalt. He rocked to an abrupt halt. Loud honking emitted from the car as it swerved past.
Robert backed up. He got out to spread sand over the driveway. After a few minutes, he took a moment to catch his breath, and glanced toward the house.
Eliza peered out a window.
He waved but she didn’t seem to notice. No response. Eliza didn’t wave back; her face stared back without any affectation.
Dread crept into his bones along with the cold.
Seven
Returning to the house, he had a generator loaded in the back of his truck. The roads were cleared of snow and ice. But driving down Main Street, cruising up and down hills, along the winding twisty road, he’d encountered a winter wonderland.
Trees were down everywhere. Several broken branches hung dangerously on the power lines. Others had snapped off, falling into yards and wooded areas; the small town resembled a combat zone. The entire landscape was enveloped in ice: houses, cars parked outside, stone walls, trees, mailboxes, even the snow-covered ground. Most of the houses appeared still and cold.
He backed the truck up the driveway, stopping a few feet from the barn. Robert planned to load the generator onto a toboggan and then drag it around to the snowmobile shed. The shed was attached to the other side of the house, next to his workshop. It would serve as the perfect place to house the generator.
Robert glanced around at the aftermath of the storm. The glistening ice brought his thoughts back to the acquisition. Holding the find had caused him to wonder about its value. Despite the wound in his leg, he’d ascended the stairs quickly, and presented it to Eliza. She was immediately intrigued.
The object seemed priceless. Considering the secretive location, they were inclined to suspect that it was genuine. And it certainly looked real enough. Robert took it to Boston and got an appraisal, confirming its value. Then, he called an attorney friend, Will, and inquired if keeping it was illegal.
As Robert thought back to the discussion, he considered all the legalese related to finding a priceless object. Will had explained that the situation was considered a treasure trove. The title of the personal property transfers to the finder against the world, except for the true owner of the property.
Will further explained that true ownership was quite vague, and the owner could include a prior possessor. The finder could be liable for appropriating the property with actual knowledge of the true owner, or if he could reasonably discover the true owner.
The discussion led Robert to think that he had some responsibility in tracking things down. But he felt doing so would be tortuous and likely lead to a dead end. And Eliza’s family had previously owned the house, which could cause an estate dispute.
After explaining his feelings to Will, the attorney grew quiet, apparently pontificating. Will eventually suggested that Robert merely treat the find as abandoned property.
So, Robert decided to keep it, rather than track down the rightful owner.
Eight
Robert stepped through the barn and headed inside the house. Crossing the gathering room, the place seemed quiet.
He opened the kitchen door, expecting to find Eliza busying herself at the counter. But she was seated at the kitchen table, hunched close to the woodstove, gripping a magazine.
A flutter of happiness tingled through his arms at the sight of her taking a break.
The house was dead silent as he walked across the kitchen. Floorboards creaked under his boots. Nearing Eliza, he realized the room was extremely cold, even by the woodstove.
She looked up from the magazine. But her countenance didn’t reveal any pleasure in seeing him.
Robert was taken aback at the horrid sight of his wife.
Fear ripped through him, and then a flood of panic. Eliza’s face was as white as snow, and her lips were dark purple, almost black. Considering her eyes, they were a cold, icy blue and didn’t seem to register his presence. She seemed disoriented, trying to make out who he was, or what he was doing there.
“Eliza, it’s me,” he said, stepping closer.
She didn’t respond, but looked at him more knowingly.
“Let’s get you warmed up.” Robert gently wrapped his hand around her arm and helped her stand.
Eliza nodded and struggled to right herself.
Robert wrapped himself around his wife. She felt cold, very cold. It was like hugging an ice sculpture. He unzipped his coat and pressed against her side while rubbing her with his hands.
She became more alert, but didn’t feel any warmer.
“This isn’t doing it,” he muttered, almost to himself.
Pulling a chair by the woodstove, Robert helped sit her down, and then he ran to the living room and grabbed an afghan from the sofa. Wrapping her in the blanket, her teeth began to chatter. Pearl white teeth clattered behind dark ominous lips. She shivered and looked at him with fearful eyes.
“Don’t worry,” he said, opening the woodstove lid. “That’s a good sign. It means you’re warming up.”
Looking inside, the fire had burned down to coals and ash. A faint radiance glowed from what remained. He bent over and blew on the coals; they flared and turned ember.
He grabbed the poker and moved them into a heap and then piled some kindling on top. Quickly reaching for a couple logs, he crisscrossed them over the kindling. And without matches, he started the fire by blowing on the coals.
Robert watched the flames shoot into a small roar. Then, he closed the lid and took a seat next to Eliza, placing his arm around her. She leaned her head against him and everything felt better. Except her touch was bitter cold.
Apprehension lurked beneath his momentary comfort, scratching at his fears.
Nine
Nathan’s van eased into the driveway. Robert stepped out to greet him, and moved his truck so Nathan could pull into the barn and unload tools.
After helping Robert tote the generator to the snowmobile shed, Nathan worked on wiring the circuit breaker panel in the workshop.
Robert stood in the kitchen sipping coffee, waiting for Nathan to finish. He’d filled the generator with gasoline and it was ready to start. They just needed to complete the wiring and connect the generator to the electrical system of the house. Only a little longer and then the power would be back on.
Eliza warmed up enough to busy herself making something to eat. She still looked pale; just a bit of color had returned to her lips, but she was coherent and active. Robert had loaded the woodstove and draped another blanket over her. When that didn’t work, he’d gotten the kerosene heater from the workshop. Heat from the woodstove and the heater seemed to help.
Waiting for Nathan, the fumes emanating from the kerosene heater wafted throughout downstairs. A nauseating smell like diesel fuel pervaded the house. Robert eagerly wanted the power back on, so he could turn off the portable heater. He planned to keep the woodstove going and make the kitchen hot, figuring Eliza needed a surge of warmth to get back to normal.
Nathan stepped from the gathering room into the kitchen hallway. He had an average build, and dressed in worn jeans and a ratty flannel shirt. A long country beard flowed from his chin. Robert looked him over. Nathan smiled, and the beard jutted upward.
“You’re all set,” Nathan said, grinning.
“Do you want to wait a few minutes, while I start it up?”
“Don’t think that’s necessary,” Nathan replied in Yankee sarcasm. “But if you want me to wait, I’ll stick around.”
Robert smiled. “I’ll be back in just a minute.”
Ten
Robert entered the snowmobile shed through a side door. He’d put the generator near the double doors and braced one of them open. Pulling the ripcord, the generator sputtered, then conked out. He tried it again and the Briggs & Stratton engine roared to life.
ICE STORM Page 2