The Way of Women

by Lauraine Snelling

  “If you want to preach, go get a pulpit.”

  “Are you getting ash there?”

  “How in the …?” Frank heaved a heavy breath, cleaned up his vocabulary, and mumbled something into the phone while he fumbled the shade aside. “Some.”

  “Some is nothing like what’s hitting I-5. Traffic’s in a snarl like you won’t believe. Give me the word and I’ll call in support.”

  “State Patrol asked for assistance?” He sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. No way could he take a chance on a drink now. No matter how bad he needed it. “I thought I told you not to call me.”

  “Now, Frank, you know and I know that if I hadn’t, you’d have had my head.”

  “You’ve already called Tanner?”

  “He’s on days today.”

  “We talking feet or inches here?”

  “Who knows? It’s still coming down.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Thought you’d see things my way.” Her chuckle irritated him into another snarl.

  As soon as he got in his truck, he turned up his police-band radio and listened to the chatter. No one was counting the accidents caused by low visibility and drivers who saw no need to slow down. Twenty-five miles an hour was the speed limit in an area usually traveled at sixty-five, seventy if no one was watching. He heard of three pileups in the stretch from Longview to Tacoma going on right then.

  So far, it had been mostly fender benders, but a massive pileup could bring fatalities instantly.

  “Stupid, idiotic people don’t have the sense of a peahen.”

  Sig whined and glanced toward his master.

  “Not your fault, fella. You’d have more sense.”

  By evening every tow truck, emergency vehicle, squad car, and maintenance crew was answering aid calls and patrolling the freeway and other major roads. Ash clouds billowed up, erasing the line between gray clouds overhead and earth itself.

  In spite of the raining mud caused by rain and falling ash, Jenn, knowing she was leaving on Tuesday, decided to drive to Tacoma on Sunday to see Mellie and Lissa.

  “This is absolute craziness,” her mother confirmed, her father just shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

  “She don’t listen to you, Mother, so give it up.”

  Was it Jenn’s imagination or had her father been talking more than he used to? Whatever, it was good. “I do listen, but time is so short before I leave, and the way things are going, it could get worse by tomorrow. Those two need every bit of encouragement anyone can give them.”

  “If your car starts to cough and act sluggish, get out and blow out the air filter. You do remember what one of them looks like?”

  Jenn nodded. Her father had made sure his daughter could change oil, tires, air filter, and batteries. She didn’t bother to tell him she’d not seen the innards of an automobile since she’d left for New York. Her closest contact was the backseat of a taxi.

  “You take water along.” Her mother went to the pantry for a picnic thermos and filled it. “They canceled church this morning so people would stay off the roads, you know.”

  Jenn ignored the hint, put all the supplies they insisted she take into the pickup, and headed down the road. Slowly, as her father had firmly suggested.

  The drive took forever. Three times she almost ended up in the ditch; once to miss a sliding car, another because of a two-car accident still on the road, and the third because the road was slicker than the pond frozen in winter. Her shoulders felt like iron bands when she drove into the street marked on her map. At least here the falling ash was minimal and had been easing up ever since Olympia.

  “You came.” Lissa’s smile made the horrendous drive worthwhile.

  “I didn’t think you would.” Mellie ushered her into the living room.

  “So, how’s my favorite model been doing?” Jenn folded herself down on the floor, and Lissa scrambled into her crossed legs.

  She leaned back against Jenn’s circling arm. “I been missing you.”

  “I missed you too.” Jenn touched the little girl’s nose with the tip of her finger. Been missing, what a wonderful way of saying it. Frank, I been missing you. How am I ever going to get time to see you again before I go?

  “You want to see Kitty?”

  “Of course. Does Kitty like to have her picture taken?”

  “Don’t know. Didn’t ask her.”

  Jenn’s laugh belted out. “You, my dear little one, are a true realist.”

  “What’s a ’list?”

  “Someone who sees and hears things just the way they are. You’ll make a good photographer someday.”

  “Like you?”

  “Tell you what, when you get to feeling better, I’ll bring you a camera, and we’ll take pictures. How’s that?”

  “Would you please take a picture of Kitty?”

  “I sure will. Let me get my camera.”

  By the time Jenn was ready, Lissa wandered back in the room, the cat draped over her arm.

  Jenn clicked a couple of shots, suggested girl and cat cuddle on the sofa, and took some more.

  “I know”—Lissa scrambled off the sofa—“Kitty likes the toy Mr. Johnson got us. Where is it, Mommy?”

  “In your room, on your chest of drawers.”

  “How is Mr. Johnson?”

  “Supposed to come home sometime this week. Said he’s been flirting with the nurses, and they’re about to chase him out.”

  “He’s quite the gentleman.”

  “Gentle is a perfect word for him. He has been so good to us.”

  Jenn leaned back against the sofa, wrists resting on her bent knees. “When I called, you said you had a surprise.”

  “Oh, I forgot. Katheryn was helping find the papers for the hospital, and you wouldn’t believe what she found.”

  “What?”

  “Life insurance policies.”

  “So?”

  “Harv took out two life insurance policies without telling me. Because of double indemnity in case of accidental death, they are worth a million dollars.” Mellie’s eyes filled with tears. “I wish Harv were here,” she whispered into her hands, then brushed her hair back with both palms. “I can’t dwell on that.”

  “That’s a lot of money. How wonderful for you. I’ll bet Harv is dancing a jig with joy that you’ll be taken care of.”

  Mellie smiled around her tears. “And A-1 Logging is going to pay for the funeral. I don’t know how long it will take the insurance companies to pay.” Mellie wiped her eyes. “Harv would say God has provided for us, but I think he did.”

  Me too. It’d better not take long for them to pay up and without a hassle. “Has your pastor been by to see you?”

  “Yes, but we can’t have the funeral until the officials release the body.” Her voice quivered on the last word.

  “Here.” Lissa came back into the room and dangled the fur-tipped string above Kitty. The cat lay on the couch, her white front paws curled over the edge of the sofa pillow. She reached up with one paw and batted at the bit of fur, rolled on her back, and used both front paws. Lissa giggled, Jenn clicked the shutter, and Mellie watched the antics, chuckling at them all.

  Jenn put her camera away after taking one with Lissa in her mother’s lap. “I’ll send you some of these for your photo album.”

  “You are so good to us. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I thought perhaps I could take the two of you out to lunch.” She turned to Lissa, who sat beside her with the dangle, still playing with Kitty. “Where would you like to go?”

  “Hamburgers.”

  “Any place special?”

  “Hamburger Haven is her favorite. They have place mats to color on there.”

  Lissa fell asleep in the car on the way back.

  “Do you need anything from the grocery store?”

  “Well, I could use bread and milk and a couple other things.”

  “How about you go in and I’ll stay
in the car with Lissa?”

  “If you don’t mind?” Mellie wore that scared rabbit look again.

  “Mellie, listen to me. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to. So you take as long as you need.”

  Sitting in the truck with Lissa leaning against her sound asleep, Jenn had time to think. About Frank. One moment she ached to just see him. The next she wanted to push him off a high place, with a safety net to catch him, but the fall might help him get the point. But which point? Why did she care? He’d made it patently clear that he didn’t. Or as one drunk knows another, perhaps he cared too much. Men, how to ever understand them. She thought about returning to her other world. Even the thought made her wish for a drink or a pill, and if she, who’d been sober for over three weeks now, felt that, who was she to condemn Frank? She stretched her head from one shoulder, then to the other, pulling the knots out that had been gone for weeks.

  What was her body telling her? Well, not to go back, that was simple. But she had to. To honor contracts she’d made. As her father both lived and taught her, you did your job to the best of your ability. And her job was fashion shoots—for the next three weeks or however long it took to wrap them up. Then she was out of there, no looking back. Flipping burgers at McDonald’s was better than the New York scene. Well, maybe not really, but then she had enough money to live on quite comfortably for the rest of her life if she managed her assets right. But not in New York. Out here on the West Coast where she belonged.

  She glanced down at the sleeping child, who seemed better, but Jenn knew the ticking bomb had been appeased, not disarmed. What do you say to a child when she asks if you know Jesus?

  I used to. Can I go back?

  “Thank you,” Mellie said when she opened the truck door.

  “You are most welcome. Set those bags on that skinny seat behind.” Jenn scooted Lissa over so the seat could be leaned forward.

  “Mommy?”

  “I’m here, pumpkin.” Mellie climbed in and eased Lissa around to lay her head in Mellie’s lap.

  Jenn’s side felt a chill. Maybe she did have a maternal instinct or two somewhere inside her after all.

  Shortly after dropping them off, Jenn headed back south, figuring the return trip would take as long as the first. She was right. Only it took longer, since there’d been another pileup, and it took more than an hour to clear. She quit counting the cars off to the side after five and kept her total focus on the pickup that threatened to slither into the median any time it had a chance.

  “Thank God,” her mother said when Jenn walked through the door.

  She took her backpack to her room and stopped at the phone on the way back. She dialed a number and got an answering machine. “Frank McKenzie, I have some things I need to talk over with you before I leave. I know this ash is creating havoc, but you have to eat, so meet me at Barney’s at six on Tuesday. I’m on the red-eye; that is, if the mountain behaves herself. If you can’t do that, call me and we’ll set another time. If you’re chicken, I’ll nail your sorry hide to a barn wall somewhere the next time I see you. Have a good day.” She added the last, tongue firmly ensconced in her cheek.

  Her mother raised one eyebrow as Jenn entered the kitchen.

  “Don’t bother. I know what you’re thinking, but this is all your fault.”

  Clare handed her daughter the beaters from the chocolate-chip cookie dough. “Enjoy.”

  MAY 26, 1980

  Katheryn, are you all right? I’ve called three times and left messages …”

  Katheryn blinked and tried to sort through her foggy brain to come up with a response. “Mellie?”

  “Yes.”

  Katheryn glanced at the clock, reached over for her glasses, put them on, and looked at the clock again. Six. Was that a.m. or p.m.?

  “Are you all right?”

  Of course not. I’ll never be all right, ever again. Just like you.

  Lucky whined, darted to the door, looked over her shoulder, and yipped this time.

  “Can I call you back? Lucky needs to go out.”

  “Okay, but you sound sick.”

  “No, just woke up. Bye.” She hung up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “I’m coming, girl, I’m coming.” Feeling like she was looking at the world through the wrong end of a telescope, she padded down the stairs to let Lucky out in the backyard. How long had it been since she’d performed this simple service? First of all, it was evening, the sun hanging toward the horizon. But on what day? Sunday, of course. Kevin and Susan had both been there that morning. Then why did her mouth feel like it had been a month since she’d brushed her teeth?

  Lucky woofed at the door, and on entrance headed for her dishes, both of which were empty.

  Katheryn found a note on the table. “Hi, Mom. Came over this morning and fed Lucky. You were sleeping, so thought you must have had a hard night and could use the rest. I’ll bring dinner by this evening about six or so.”

  Katheryn fed the dog, patted her, and, using the rail as a lifeline, made her way back upstairs. Monday, she’d lost an entire day. Actually more like a day and a half. She’d lain down shortly after noon.

  David? Brian? Had there been any news? She rushed back downstairs, stumbling and nearly falling in her hurry. Sixteen messages.

  She flipped through them, listening only to voices she didn’t know, hoping one would be an official of some kind saying her family had been found. Condolence calls, Pastor Steve, Mellie, her mother, her mother, and her mother.

  Let the kids answer them.

  She wiped away the tears she hadn’t realized were falling and pulled herself back up the stairs. Looking down she groaned. Sweats, she was wearing David’s sweats. No wonder she felt like she’d been standing in front of the furnace. Or perhaps it was a grief-induced hot flash, if there was such a thing.

  Lucky woofed downstairs, her welcome home bark.

  “Mom?” Kevin called before closing the door.

  “I’m up here. Be down in a minute.” But when she saw herself in the bathroom mirror, she knew it would take more than a minute. She needed a shower, shampoo, and … Using a word she’d forbidden her children to say, she shucked her borrowed clothes, pulled jeans and one of her own long-sleeved T-shirts from the closet, and, after using the deodorant stick, Katheryn dressed. She brushed her teeth, pulled a brush through her hair and swept it back in a club, then slid her feet into clogs. There, she’d made it; dressed, that is. And now all she felt like doing was crawling back under that down comforter and dropping down into the void again. A place of no pain, no sorrow, no nothing.

  Instead, she went back downstairs, the smell of pepperoni pizza nearly gagging her.

  “You just get up?”

  “No.”

  “You all right?”

  “No.” She poured a glass of water and drank half without pausing.

  Kevin looked in the fridge. “You didn’t eat the sandwich I brought you.”

  “Sorry. I wasn’t hungry.”

  “When did you eat last?”

  Katheryn struggled to remember. Finally, she shrugged. “You sound like my mother.”

  “Did you call her back? She even called me to make sure you were all right.”

  After he stayed with her the first night, she’d insisted she would be all right by herself and sent him home. At least she could remember that. The phone rang. Katheryn stared at it as if it were a snarling rat. Or a hissing cobra.

  “You want me to get that?”

  “Please.” What’s the matter with you, woman, you haven’t lost an arm or a leg? The phone can’t bite you.

  Kevin covered the receiver. “It’s Grandma.”

  “I … I can’t talk with her, please.”

  “She’s busy right now, Grandma. Can she call you back later? I know, I know, I’ll tell her. Sure, I promise. Bye.” He hung up and shook his head. “I’m to tell you that if you don’t start returning your calls, she is going to get on the next plane and come out here.”

&
nbsp; Katheryn massaged her temples with the first two fingers on each hand.

  “Now, if you don’t want that, which, by the way, I think is a good idea—you need someone here with you—you’d better take five minutes and call her back.” He pulled a breadstick from the flat box. “Here, eat this first so you have energy enough to deal with her.”

  “Thanks, Son. I owe you one.”

  “Aw, Mom, if only there was some way I could really help you.” He put his arms around her and rocked her as she had him so many times.

  The tears spurted. She wept on his shoulder, soaking his sweatshirt, and wrinkling the parts she clenched in her fists. When the rampage finally subsided, she could hear him murmuring comfort and feel him stroking her hair. He handed her a fistful of tissues and stepped back so she could mop up.

  “Susan gave me strict instructions to make you cry.”

  Sniff. “Oh, she did, did she?” Mop, sniff, blow. Katheryn sank down on a chair, the strength leaving her legs as the tears had left her eyes.

  “Yep, and I didn’t even have to work at it, or make you mad or nothing. I know the trick. Threaten you with a visit from Grandma, and the dam bursts.”

  “Kevin.” She found herself almost laughing. “You are a nut.”

  Lucky, her brown eyes worried and her tail barely moving, pushed her wet nose into Katheryn’s hand.

  “I’m sorry, girl. It’s all right.” Katheryn leaned down and hugged the dog, rubbing her soft ears, earning doggy kisses and small whimpers of sympathy. Lucky hated for anyone to be sad. She’d even tried to comfort her by climbing in bed with her sometime in the long hours of sleeplessness the first night. Last night she was so comatose, an elephant could have climbed in bed with her and she’d been none the wiser.

  “Are you going to call Grandma?” Kevin turned from listening to her messages. “I saved the ones I think you’d better listen to.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Coffee?”

  “That might help. You got any industrial strength backbone? Either IV or pill form?”

  Kevin gave her a one-arm hug and dropped a kiss on the side of her forehead. “We’ll get through this, Mom. We really will.”