The Way of Women

by Lauraine Snelling

  “I have to do something.”

  “Dad always said to stay where you are until someone finds you.”

  “I’m not the one who is lost.” And someone’d better be looking for them. No one in authority knows they were—she corrected herself—are on Mount St. Helens.

  She cried out in her agony, writhing and squirming in convulsive spasms that would not cease. “Creator of all things, I ache,” she screamed. Struggling against the life blood streaming from her heart, she finally realized the futility of her efforts and resigned herself to waiting. It had passed before and would pass again. If she could only endure the pain in the meantime.

  MAY 18, 1980

  I’d take you down there if you want me to.”

  Mellie paused in the act of removing the dishes from the table. She left the unused place setting in place.

  “I mean, I know you don’t drive and …”

  “Would you really?”

  Mr. Johnson nodded.

  Mellie kept herself from throwing her arms around the man only by her certainty that he’d be terribly embarrassed. While he patted Lissa on the shoulder and enjoyed her spontaneous hugs, he’d never touched her more than to shake her hand.

  “Thank you, but I think we’d better stay here for when Harv calls. Perhaps he had to help someone, and maybe the phones are out.” How she wished she had a phone number for Harv, but he always called from a pay phone. Why, oh why didn’t I insist on an emergency number?

  Because you never insisted on anything. The thought caught her by surprise. Harv had always been so good to her, hardly even making fun of her fears, the fears that plagued her through the nights, so bad sometimes she woke up screaming. So bad that some days she felt frozen, unable to move, as if she’d turned to salt like that woman in the Bible.

  She thought for a moment, trying to remember the woman’s name, but only Harv’s came to mind. He’d know the answer. I’ll ask him when he gets here, she promised herself.

  “Can I go watch TV?” Lissa left off toying with her meat, giving her mother a pleading smile.

  “One more bite of each.”

  “Do I hafta?”

  “Yes. You hardly eat enough to keep a mouse alive, let alone a little girl.”

  “Kitty could eat it. She likes meat.”

  “Pretend you’re Kitty and you eat it.”

  Lissa propped her head on her hand and lined the remaining three out of five bites of meat across the top of her plate.

  If your daddy were here, you’d eat without question. He’d be making you giggle, and the food would be gone before you know it. Why can’t I make you giggle and eat and … Mellie cut off the thoughts and turned on the faucet to fill the sink and soak the dishes.

  “I’ll bet Kitty would like to play with her toy, you know, the one I brought today.” Mr. Johnson winked at the little girl.

  Lissa nodded and scooted from her chair.

  “After you finish eating,” said Mellie.

  She sighed and climbed back up. “Will you play too, Mommy?”

  “After dessert. I promised Mr. Johnson a piece of pie.”

  “Daddy likes cherry pie. That’s his fav’rit.”

  “What’s your favorite?” asked Mr. Johnson.

  “Ice cream.”

  “Ice cream pie?”

  “Ice cream doesn’t come in a pie.” She gave him one of her “silly grownup” looks.

  “Sorry.” He leaned forward. “But my aunt Bertha used to make the best strawberry-and-ice-cream pie. She’d drizzle chocolate on top.”

  Lissa got down from the table and stood next to their guest. “My mommy could make you a pie like that. She can make anything.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.

  For a change Mr. Johnson didn’t bolt for the door. Instead, he rested his cheek on Lissa’s head. Mellie ignored the sheen of tears in his eyes and picked up Lissa’s still unfinished plate to scrape and wash.

  An hour later, the dessert served and eaten, the dishes finished, Kitty entertaining the two in front of the television, and still an empty place setting at the table. Mellie leaned on the counter, propped on stiff elbows that compensated for shaking knees. Lord, I know something has happened to Harv, or he would have called by now. What can I do? If only I had listened to him all these years and learned how to drive. Why did I let my fear get in the way? She closed her eyes at the wrench in her midsection at the thought of getting behind the wheel of a car.

  “Mommy, the mountain is ’rupting again.”

  Mellie rushed into the living room and sank to the edge of the sofa.

  “Nothing new.” Mr. Johnson nodded toward the screen. “Same as we heard before. Same pictures, too.”

  “Nothing about the Toutle?”

  “Flooding,” he said. “Six o’clock news might carry more.”

  Mellie wrapped her arms around her knees. Surely Harv would be walking in the door any minute. She would reheat his dinner, and she and Lissa would sit together at the table and listen to all his news, told around bites and chewing and nodding his approval at her cooking his favorite meal. She dug her thumbnails into the bed of her index fingers, anything to quiet the voices who’d only grown more insistent in her head.

  “A cloud of ash has spread clear to Spokane and points east,” the announcer said, showing clips of ash-shrouded streetlights in Yakima. “Everyone is advised to stay home and inside. Breathing the ash could cause severe respiratory problems.”

  Mellie watched until the end of the segment without any more real news. When Mr. Johnson stood up, she followed suit.

  “My offer still holds.”

  “Thank you, but I’m sure Harv will be calling any minute. Besides, I know you don’t drive after dark anymore, and …”

  “I will if you want.”

  Fighting the tears his kindness generated, Mellie sighed and nodded. What if Harv weren’t home by morning? They had that appointment with the doctor at eleven.

  She bid Mr. Johnson goodnight and closed the door behind him, only to lean against it when her knees threatened to give way. Desolation crept around her, seeping into her pores, smothering, sucking the air from her lungs. The smell of fear drove her to the bathroom, where she turned the shower on, and, stripping, stepped under the hot needles. She pulled the band from her hair and tossed it in the direction of the counter.

  “Mommy.”

  “Yes.”

  “You all right?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “ ’Cause you’re taking a shower.”

  Better than crawling in bed and pulling the covers over my head. “I know. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  MAY 18, 1980

  How could this be such a perfect May day? Azaleas blooming, welcome sunshine, the Space Needle white against a cerulean sky, traffic moving freely. To the south, gray clouds like mounds of furious thunderheads were striving upward to be caught by the high western winds and feathered east, the sun lighting the gauzy gray.

  She glanced at the clock. Twelve thirty. It had taken her half an hour to throw some things in a suitcase. Susan would take Lucky home with her, after staying at the house for the day or until David called.

  She’d even remembered to bring her portable typewriter with her, as if tending to small details would keep the horror at bay. Surely she’d arrive at Castle Rock to give their names to whoever would be in charge, and someone would find them, or they would already be in a local hospital, or … The “ors” were beyond contemplation. She swung into a drive-in for sustaining coffee and a phone call home.

  Susan picked up on the first ring. “No, Mom, no word, but the pictures coming over the television are horrendous. If …” She gulped and blew her nose. “If Dad camped in his usual spot …” Her voice broke again. “Mom, it was right in the blast zone.”

  Katheryn leaned her forehead against the black phone case on the wall. “He”—her voice broke before she continued—“had several favorite places.” David, if you get out of this alive, I swear I�
��m going to kill you for endangering Brian like this. Rage, far beyond red and into blue-white hot, made her clench the receiver so hard, it might have liquefied.

  “Mom, are you there?”

  “Yes. We’d better get off the phone in case they call. Can Bruce come and be with you?”

  “He’s at the firehouse. Kevin should be here pretty soon.”

  “Okay. I’m south of Tacoma. I’ll call you when I get to Castle Rock.” She hung up and took a sip of her coffee, walked back into the drive-in, and added cream and sugar. Right now she needed something sweet.

  Back on the road, she forced her mind to think about her characters. What would happen next in the tale of Brandy versus junior-high-school life? But no matter how hard she tried to control her thoughts, they kept veering off like billiard balls and heading directly for the mountain.

  “God, if you are the God of love I’ve always known, you couldn’t take both my husband and son like this. You wouldn’t—would you? I promise, I’ll do whatever you want if you keep them safe. Is this like Abraham, where you asked him to sacrifice his son? I’ll give up writing, go work in a shelter, whatever you want. Tell me, what can I do?”

  Why is it, when you need God the most, He always goes utterly silent? Not that He’d spoken directly to her, but often she’d sensed His presence with such a feeling of peace and joy, she’d been unable to contain it. Why not now?

  Cars lined both sides of the road with people pointing and staring off to the east. Slowing down along with the traffic, she looked toward the southeast to see a swelling cloud of gray and black, leaping high into the atmosphere and flowing east. The mountain again? They couldn’t usually see Mount St. Helens from here, only Mount Rainier, standing sentinel in all its magnificent white beauty. The cloud dominated the entire southern horizon. Tears, hot and scalding, burned her eyes and nose. She drank some more coffee and used the napkin to wipe her eyes.

  Turning the radio on, she flicked from one station to another until she located the classical music and set the dial there. One of Grieg’s symphonies filled the car. She’d come to love the Norwegian composer’s grandeur and energy. The music flowed around and through her, carrying her along like the rushing mountain streams of the land of her forebears as it skipped over rocks and rotting trees to catapult over cliffs, falling in a continuous, tumultuous cascade to the waiting fjord waters below.

  She turned off at the exit for Highway 504. The flashing lights of patrol cars announced the barricades before she could see the signs.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, this road is closed due to the eruption.”

  “I see. Surely you have some area set up for families of those who were on the mountain?”

  “No one was supposed to be on the mountain.” The weariness along with impatience in his voice made her aware he’d already said this more times than he wanted.

  “Yes, well, some men don’t listen to reason.” Why not air all the family’s dirty laundry up front? Get it out in the open and let someone in authority deal with it. For sure she’d not had any control over the situation. Not that she ever had. Were all men as hardheaded and self-absorbed as hers? She checked that train of thought and added, He hadn’t been until the depression started. Sure, they’d had arguments, but they were both reasonable people and knew enough to compromise and kiss and make up.

  “I have to tell someone in charge where to look for them.”

  “Them?”

  “My husband took our youngest son along.” The words burned like acid on her tongue. Why, oh why did I let him take Brian along?

  Guilt, that’s why. But why do I feel guilty for his father’s actions? She jerked her runaway thoughts back to the matter at hand.

  “Surely someone is coordinating search and rescue?”

  Careful, Katheryn, don’t go tromping on any male egos. Gentle and sweet and keep it that way.

  “You could go into Longview to the Cascade Middle School. They’ve designated that a relief center.” He looked toward the car behind her, an obvious hint to move on.

  “Thanks.” She knew he didn’t hear her, but she was grateful for at least somewhere to go.

  Hours later and with the only glimmer of success being that she’d found someone who took down contact information, she phoned home again.

  Kevin answered this time. “Nope, no word.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “You want me to come down there?”

  “No, they are overrun with people like me. Keep telling us to all go home and wait there.” She rubbed her forehead, where a headache alternately pounded or simmered. “They are setting up shelters, but I think I’ll go look for a motel before they are all full, leave the shelters for those displaced from their homes.”

  “Are you all right, Mom?”

  “Why?”

  “You sound distant, sort of …”

  “Kevin, don’t worry about me. See if you can figure out any way to get information. Call the TV stations, radio, state patrol, anything. I’ll call back later. At least if I get a hotel room, you’ll have a place to call. Where’s Susan?”

  “She took Lucky and went home. I’ll call her and tell her you called. Or you want to call her?”

  “No, they are asking us to restrict phone calls. The lines are all tied up so emergency calls can’t get through.”

  She finally found a motel in Kalama, not the kind she’d usually have stayed in, but beggars could not be choosers. After she’d struck out in Kelso, then Longview, they’d started saying they were full. A compassionate desk clerk had suggested Kalama. The farther south she had to go, the more she wished she’d located one before doing anything else. Maybe she should have stayed home or returned north after registering David and Brian Sommers as missing. MIA, missing in action, like her brother in Vietnam. The brother who’d been so cocky about wiping out the commies, about American firepower and superior forces. MIA. Rage snapped and steamed again. The government tried to sweep all the MIAs under the proverbial rug. But this wasn’t national government here. This was the home of regional government, mixed-up services, and to her it all looked like the left hand had no idea what the right hand was doing, or if there was even a right hand. You’d have thought there would have been some sort of disaster plan in action. After all, they’d had months of warning.

  But like David, too many thought it would all blow over, that the mountain would settle back down. And now they paid for it.

  “No, you cannot think that way. They are alive.” She knew they weren’t at any of the hospitals; she’d checked every one. But people were still being rescued.

  She flipped on the television, hoping against hope for some good news.

  The ash cloud brought everything to a halt in Eastern Washington, blanketed Idaho, and was causing troubles in Montana. The last flurry of earthquakes of any magnitude had occurred around five, and the wall of mud and water from the North Fork of the Toutle River was taking out bridges and anything in its way. The earlier flow from the South Fork had abated and left the I-5 bridges still standing, and the feared flooding at Castle Rock hadn’t happen. Ash and mudflows had now reached the Columbia River.

  Katheryn called Kevin one more time, then Susan, trying to reassure them both, took two sleeping pills, and crawled into bed. If I don’t sleep, I’ll not be any good when we do find them. Even so, she’d rehashed the last time she saw them, wondered again what else she could have done, and cried her pillow wet before falling into a dark cavern where monsters hulked and earthquakes rumbled, raining loose rocks down around her.

  MAY 19, 1980

  The night tortured her with one minute after another. Why hadn’t she agreed to let Mr. Johnson take them to Castle Rock? Where was Harv? Lurid pictures of him lying injured warred with scenes of raging waters pulling him under, crushed between rocks and logs. The phone remained silent. Several times she checked for a dial tone, in between pacing from Lissa’s room to the kitchen to the living room and back to throw herself on the bed she and Harv sha
red so seldom lately.

  Will I ever sleep in his strong arms again?

  Dawn brought no joy, in spite of the verse she’d once memorized. Darkness endures for the night, but “joy comes with the morning.” Somewhere during the night, she’d remembered that verse and clung to it.

  When the clock struck seven, she picked up the phone and dialed Mr. Johnson’s number. “I can’t stand this any longer.”

  “How soon can you be ready to leave?”

  “Half an hour.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  She gathered Lissa’s medications, a change of clothing for her, a quilt, and some snacks. All the while her heart beat faster, and sweat alternated with shivers at the thought of leaving the house and going to look for Harv. When she heard the car, she scooped the sleeping Lissa up, grabbed the bag she’d packed, and headed outside.

  “Where we going?”

  “To find Daddy.”

  “Oh.”

  Her fingernails dug permanent scars into the palms of her hands on the drive south.

  “Did you eat breakfast?” Mr. Johnson asked when they hit Olympia.

  Mellie shook her head. “I couldn’t.”

  “We could stop at McDonald’s. My treat.”

  “We couldn’t impose like …”

  Mr. Johnson sighed. “Look, sometimes you need to accept help when it is offered. I know you two don’t ever ask for help, and I admire your gumption, but when I needed help you were right there. Those last months you made life easier for both Helen and me, and now it’s my turn to do for you. That’s what neighbors are for.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Now, I need some coffee, and I know Lissa likes Egg McMuffins.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I could pay …” She stopped when he shook his head. His jaw tightened. She trapped a sigh of her own. “Thank you.”

  Back on the road, as the car ate up the miles, silence gnawed at Mellie’s nerve ends. Lissa lay asleep on the backseat, her tummy full and her rabbit clutched in one arm. Lack of sleep made Mellie’s eyes itch and burn, but every time she closed them, pictures from the television news flared anew on the backs of her eyelids.