Then, he adjusted the idle and the little engine rumbled methodically. Robert waited a couple minutes to make sure the generator was spitting along. Reaching for the light switch, he wondered if the generator would really work.
He flipped the switch and the overhead light came on. It was an uplift, countering the weight of the dismal storm. Robert pushed the generator closer to the open door, and then trekked back through the frigid house.
Systems rumbled to life. Robert hoped the worst of the storm was behind them. But an unsettled feeling churned in the pit of his stomach.
Eleven
Entering the kitchen, he found the lights on and heard the furnace cranking up in the basement. Nathan sat at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee. Robert looked at Eliza and she smiled pleasantly.
The worst of it seemed behind them.
Robert stepped toward Nathan. “Thanks for coming over here in the middle of a storm,” Robert said, shaking his hand. “And helping us out.”
“No problem,” Nathan replied. “Don’t seem much like a storm right now, anyway.”
“Well, it’s a big deal to us.”
“And that’s why Eliza was kind enough to offer me some flapjacks.” Nathan nodded with a twinkle in his eye.
“Sounds like a great idea.”
“Do you want any?” Eliza asked.
“Sure,” Robert replied. “And I’ll get some of the good coffee going.”
“Any coffee is fine with me,” Nathan said.
Everyone chuckled.
“You’ll like this stuff.” Robert said. “But first I’m going to shut down that kerosene heater.”
The radiators around the house kicked and spit. Robert stepped toward the portable heater. He turned a switch and it snuffed out with a hiss.
Eliza mixed batter for pancakes, and Robert prepared the coffee. He ground up enough beans to make six cups, and then put the grinds into the Krupp’s coffee maker. He reached for the water jug on the counter, brushing against Eliza.
She felt frigid, like glacial ice rest beneath her sweater. A chill ran up his spine. He shuddered, and thoughts of comfort ebbed. He sensed something foreboding.
Twelve
After getting the coffee started on their electric range, Robert closed the camp stove and carried it to the basement doorway. Then, he brought over the water jugs and staged them by the stove, planning to bring everything downstairs later.
Eliza dropped batter onto the griddle, while he set the table. Robert poured the coffee when it was ready. Soon, she had a large stack of pancakes piled on a plate. Carrying them over to the table, she set them down and fetched her mug. Robert walked to the table, and his stomach turned with hunger.
Sitting across from Nathan, the house felt much warmer than it had that morning. Robert buttered his pancakes and then poured maple syrup over them. He passed the condiments to Nathan.
Nathan piled a big stack of flapjacks onto his plate, then liberally applied butter and syrup. Both men devoured the pancakes, as Eliza sat down to join them. She settled herself next to Robert.
As he reached for more syrup, Robert shivered from extreme cold, and hoped that it was merely a draft slipping down the back staircase.
A lingering fear caused trepidation over the prospect of something more sinister.
Thirteen
The longer Robert sat finishing up his pancakes, the colder he felt. He stood and warmed up by the woodstove, adding a few logs to fuel the fire. Then, he thanked Nathan for his help. Robert tried to slip him some cash, but Nathan refused to take the money.
Robert left his guest at the kitchen table sipping coffee. He went over to the basement door. Flicking on the light, he grabbed the gear and provisions, and then descended the basement stairs. He thought about how good it was having electricity, compared to fumbling in the dark.
He put the jugs down and headed over to the shelf with camping equipment. Walking back, he noticed the tin box and tools strewn about the workbench.
Robert stepped over and checked it out.
Looking inside, he didn’t see any markings or signs that would give away the date of the box. He picked up the tissue paper that had been inside. There wasn’t anything written on it to reveal the owner of the find or the date that it was stowed away.
Robert considered his discussion with Will about taking reasonable steps to identify the true owner. He decided to hold on to everything.
Placing the paper inside the box, Robert bent the contorted metal back together as best he could, and then snapped on the lid.
He left the mangled box on the workbench.
Fourteen
Robert climbed the stairs, feeling a chill on the back of his neck. Frigid pinpricks ran down his spine, causing him to tremble and shiver. He reached the landing and hurried over to warm himself by the stove.
Eliza stood alone in the kitchen. She had cleared the table and tidied up. Robert looked around. “Did Nathan leave?” he asked.
“I’m not sure if he actually left yet,” she replied. “He got his tools together a few minutes ago. You might be able to catch him.”
He considered going out to the barn. But her voice sounded deep and hoarse.
“Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m okay,” she said. “I’ll probably lay down and get some rest soon.”
“You should drink plenty of water,” he said. “Getting dehydrated is part of suffering from hypothermia.”
She stood ten feet away. Her voice sounded harsh and something about her piercing blue eyes didn’t seem right. They were cold and withdrawn.
“Not sure if I actually had hypothermia.”
“Well, whatever happened, you should drink some water,” he said. “Just to be on the safe side.”
Eliza poured a glass of water from the tap, and then headed to the back staircase.
As she walked by, Robert felt a chill and noticed she looked pale. Her lips were dark purple again and she was distant. Despite the heat being restored, she appeared to be slipping into a frigid state.
He turned the thermostat up and fed the woodstove, and then went upstairs to check on her. She was in their sleigh bed, bundled under the blankets. The glass of water sat on the nightstand half empty. Eliza smiled at him, but still seemed detached.
“My water is right there,” she said, girlishly.
He nodded and smiled back.
She lit up like her usual self for a moment. Tucking her in, he noticed that she still looked white but her lips weren’t as dark. He hoped setting the heat high, and her being bundled up, would allow for a recovery before dinnertime.
Robert went downstairs and found the house relatively comfortable. The heat was running and the stove was fully stoked. But they lived in a large old farmhouse with plenty of drafts, and it was particularly cold outside.
He called a friend and learned that Will and his wife, Jean, still didn’t have power. Robert invited the couple over for dinner. After the call, he threw on a sweater and then puttered around the house doing chores, planning to keep the stove running for a bit.
Things were getting better.
Fifteen
Later, Robert sat at his oak desk in the study doing paperwork. Tires crunching on the icy driveway caught his attention. He glanced out the window. An old Saab pulled up and parked behind his truck.
Robert walked down the hall to a side door. He stepped onto the small porch, as Will and Jean climbed from their car. The sun had gone down and the air felt bitter cold. Gusts of wind whipped through the fields, and slapped into Robert’s face, turning his cheeks raw. The visitors hurried across the driveway to get inside.
Robert closed the door, shutting out the elements, and led them into the kitchen.
“It sure is nice to be inside with some heat,” Jean said, smiling.
“Feel free to step over by the woodstove and warm up,” Robert said. “Would either of you care for a glass of wine?”
“Sure, that would be great,” Will re
plied.
“What do you want? I have Chardonnay and a host of reds.”
“Whatever is easiest,” Jean said. “But a Chardonnay would be fine.”
Will rubbed his hands together by the stove. “Robert loves to entertain with a decent wine. And reds age better.”
Jean shrugged. “A red it is then. You can surprise us.”
Robert smiled. “I’ll be right back.”
He headed to the cellar door, flicked on the light, and hastily descended the stairs.
Poking around the wine rack, he thought of a Bordeaux nestled near the top; it had been aging and would go well with a pasta dinner.
He grabbed the neck of the bottle, and carefully slid it from the rack.
Dust wafted up as the bottle skittered over the dry wooden rack. When the bottle shook free of its resting place, Robert noticed a tin box tucked snug on top of the fieldstone wall; it was covered in dust and wedged between the joist and a supporting stud.
Even in the dim basement light, he could make out the lip running around the lid, and noticed the blue tin just like the other one. A similar size; it looked exactly the same.
Robert reached for the box, stretching, while holding the wine bottle. He caught hold of a corner and yanked the box. But when he pulled, it seemed stuck in place, resisting like a dog planting its feet. He needed to get a better hold on the box.
He glanced at the bottle of wine and decided to set it on the basement floor. Putting the wine bottle down, it teetered over, glass rattling on the rough cement.
Guests were waiting upstairs. Robert wanted to investigate this latest intrigue, but Eliza hadn’t risen from her nap yet. He figured it would have to wait.
Picking up the bottle, Robert wiped off the dust on his trousers.
Curiously, he glanced toward the workbench, trying to spy the box that he’d pried apart. Robert wanted to check for a comparison to the new one. Shadows cast over the bench, so he couldn’t discern the dilapidated box in the darkness.
Laughter from the kitchen caught his attention, reminding him of the company they had to entertain. He headed upstairs and closed the cellar door. Will and Jean sat at the kitchen table looking comfortable enough.
“How are you guys doing?” he said.
“Great,” Will replied. “This is a good break from our desolate home.”
Robert nodded, pleased that he could help someone out. Opening the bottle with a waiter’s corkscrew, he sniffed the cork, and then poured some wine into a glass. “Do you want to take a sip?” he asked Jean.
She smiled and took the glass from Robert.
Jean sipped from the wine glass.
“How is it?”
“Very, very good.”
“Great, then I’ll get a few more glasses.” Robert walked into the kitchen. He fetched three wine glasses from the cupboard.
Jean had poured a little more into her glass.
“This will be a good start to a great night,” Robert commented, reaching for the bottle. He filled a couple more glasses.
“When will Eliza be joining us?” Jean asked.
“Oh, that’s right,” Robert replied. “She’s been taking a nap. I figured she’d be down by now. But I’ll run up to check on her in a minute.”
“This wine tastes good,” Will said. “You really outdid yourself this time.”
“That’s great to hear,” Robert said. “I bought a case of Chateau de Rothschild for a good price. I’ve been aging it for a few years. Turns out to be a far less expensive way to enjoy good wine.”
“Why do people go through the formality of tasting?” Jean asked. “I mean it’s just us visiting.”
“I’ve always wondered that myself,” Will added.
“The sample taste stems from when wine was only sealed by cork,” Robert explained. “The cork can sometimes get moldy. Occasionally, a bottle will go bad from the mold. So, you taste to see if it’s corky.”
“Huh,” Jean said. “I guess plastic corks have changed things.”
“This bottle had a real cork, but the plastic corks don’t have the same issues.”
“See, honey,” Will said. “I knew there would be a good answer.”
They all laughed.
“Well, I’ll run upstairs and see what’s keeping Eliza,” Robert said. “She’ll probably need to shower up a bit. Do either of you want to use our guest bath, since your power’s been out?”
“Not right now,” Jean said. “But if we have a few more days of this, we might take you up on it.”
“Anytime. I’ll be right back.”
Sixteen
Robert climbed the back staircase, and then turned down the hallway toward their bedroom. The hall was extremely warm. Closer to their door, a draft sent a chill whisking through him.
Opening the door, the chill was even harsher, brisk.
He stepped into the bedroom and it was cold, frigid. Turning toward Eliza, he shivered as a gust of wind whipped into the room. Robert noticed an open window. He hurried over and slammed it shut. Then, he turned the heat up.
Eliza tossed in the sleigh bed, foggy and disoriented.
Robert sat on the edge of the bed, gently straightening a heap of blankets. She turned toward him, eyes closed, still caught in a muddled sleep. Running his hand across her face, Robert grew alarmed by how frozen her skin felt.
She muttered incoherently.
“Honey, are you alright?”
But she didn’t respond.
Eliza breathed heavily pursing her purple lips. They made her face look even paler. All color had drained away. He ran a hand through her hair and it felt frosty.
Robert rocked her, but she remained woozy.
“Eliza, wake up!” He panicked, shaking her frantically.
Her eyes snapped open.
Sharp, icy blue eyes stared back at him. There wasn’t any recognition of him reflected in her cold eyes, as though being scrutinized by a stranger.
“Honey, it’s me,” Robert pled. “Snap out of it.”
She closed her eyes and grumbled, turning over in bed. When her eyes opened again, they were softer and appeared cognizant of him.
“You really scared me for a moment.”
“Why?” she mumbled. “What’s going on?”
“It’s my fault. I should have been checking on you.”
She shook her head, confused.
“You must have gotten hot from all the blankets,” he explained. “I think you got disoriented and opened a window.”
She glanced around at the windows.
“I closed it already.”
The radiators rattled with life, swiftly heating up the room. Eliza appeared settled, talking coherently, and the ghastly pallor was overtaken by hints of ruddy complexion. She threw back the covers and sat up.
Robert slipped his arm around her shoulder and helped her stand. She wobbled and then gained her equilibrium. He helped her walk a few steps, until she waved him off.
“Are you alright?” he said.
“I’m fine,” she replied, heading toward the bathroom.
“Will and Jean are downstairs,” he said. “I’ll go and get dinner started.”
She nodded sullenly.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Sure, I’m going to clean up. Be down in a few minutes.”
“Sounds good.” He felt relieved to see her moving about, doing better.
“What’s for dinner anyway?”
“Pasta.” He grinned. “What else could I make?”
“Let’s just say that’s your specialty,” she replied, laughing. “I’m sure that it’ll be fine.”
Eliza stepped into the master bathroom. He watched her shuffle toward the clawfoot tub and turn on the water. Her last comment came out somewhat girlish, like how she sounded before going to bed.
As he left the bedroom, Robert noticed her hands were the color of bone. He closed the door. Walking away, he didn’t recall steam rising from the tub.
Robert beg
an to turn back, and then shook it off, heading down the hall.
But something daunted him, and bile rose in his throat.
Seventeen
Downstairs, the kitchen buzzed with chatter and pots clanging, as Robert entertained their guests. They sipped wine and talked about local events. Dinner didn’t take long to prepare and everyone was seated at the farm table except Eliza.
Robert sat down taking a sip of wine. He figured that she’d be wrapping up any moment, and listened for footsteps on the second-floor hallway.
But it remained silent; no sound of movement upstairs whatsoever.
“Guess I better go see what’s taking her.”
“We’re perfectly fine,” Jean said. “But we wouldn’t want her dinner getting cold, either.”
“You two can start, and I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”
Just as Robert stood up, lights flickered, the house systems wavered, then wound to a halt. The lights cut out. And the room fell into darkness, and a cold silence.
“This is unbelievable,” Robert muttered.
“What do you think caused it?” Jean said.
“Maybe the circuit breaker overloaded,” Will offered. “Or your generator stalled.”
“That’s it,” Robert said. “The generator ran out of gas, that’s all.”
He fumbled around the kitchen searching for a flashlight in the dark. Then, he opened the back door and a wall of cold air pressed against him. His throat and lungs contracted from the frigid room.
Robert gulped and moved ahead.
Eighteen
Stepping through the unheated gathering room, frosty air bit into him. It reminded Robert of the ice-cold house earlier that morning. He was glad to have the generator and wanted to get it running again.
Robert hurried out to the snowmobile shed. He found the gas can right where he’d left it.
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