A Family To Cherish (10 page)

E
arly the next morning Barbara and Doug tackled the cleanup of the cabin, Barbara dusting and polishing furniture and cleaning the kitchen, Doug mopping floors and scrubbing windows. He kept one ear tuned to his battery-operated radio for the latest updates on the quake damage.

“Six dead so far,” he told Barbara as he carried the mop pail to the back door. “Hundreds injured. I phoned the hospital. They can use all the medical help they can get.”

“So you'll be leaving,” she said, more an acknowledgment than a question.

“Right. I don't feel I have any choice.” He touched her chin lightly, as if somehow seeking her approval. “Will you and Janee be all right here alone?”

She nodded. “We'll be roughing it for a few days until the utilities are turned on.”

“At least there's water.”

“Right. Thank God for small favors.”

“I know you'll feel lost without a car.”

Barbara put her fingers to her lips. “I hadn't thought of that. I really am stuck here, aren't I?”

“When things simmer down at the hospital, I'll get one of the guys to come up with me. I'll drive your car and ride back with him.”

“You make it sound like we're going to be here a long time.”

“I don't know, Barb. We just have to be prepared for…whatever comes.” He jingled his car keys in his hand. “I'd better go. Give Janee a kiss goodbye for me when she wakes up.”

“She was so tired last night, she may sleep till noon.”

“Let her. It'll give you some time to make your phone calls.”

Barbara walked Doug outside to their automobile. The air was clean, invigorating, and fragrant with the scent of pine. The late September breeze wafted over her, surprisingly gentle and warm. Maybe spending a few days in the mountains wouldn't be so bad, after all.

Doug leaned over and kissed her lips. “Take care, hon. Keep your cell phone nearby. I'll call and check on you later today.”

She straightened his collar. “It'll seem strange…”

“What will?”

“Sleeping without you beside me tonight. It's been ages since we were apart overnight.”

“You're right. Not since my intern days.” He climbed into his car and gave a little salute.

She waved back and watched as he backed out of the narrow drive. She didn't move until he was out of sight.

A hollow feeling settled in her chest as she walked back inside the cabin, a peculiar sensation that there was more she wanted to say to Doug before he drove away, an odd impulse to call him back and rush into his arms and tell him…tell him what? She didn't know.

Barbara had just finished phoning the utility companies when she heard Janee stirring. Janee emerged from the bedroom, a sad-faced little waif, whimpering and rubbing her eyes with her fists. Barbara went to her and smoothed back her tousled curls. “What's the matter, honey? A bad dream?”

Janee nodded. “A big monster was chasing me. He was shaking the house, trying to make me come out. I was scared.”

Barbara took her hand and led her to the kitchen. “There's no monster, sweetheart. I bet you were thinking about the earthquake. I've thought about it, too. It was scary, wasn't it?”

Janee looked up wide-eyed. “You were scared, too?”

Barbara took a carton of milk from the ice chest on the counter. “Sure. Everyone gets scared sometime. But we got through it, and we're just fine, aren't we?”

“I guess so,” Janee said without conviction.

“And you know what? Here in our cabin on the mountain, we won't feel any more earthquakes, because they're far away from us now.”

It took a minute for Barbara's words to process themselves in Janee's mind. Suddenly she grinned and said, “I'm hungry.”

Barbara reached into a grocery sack. “I figured you would be. That's why I've got your favorite cereal right here.” She held up a bright-colored box of sugarcoated oats.

Janee clapped her hands. “My favorite! Crispy Creatures!”

Barbara smiled. “And not a monster among them!” She got Janee settled with her cereal at the small drop-leaf table, then returned to her chores.

Already the cabin was beginning to gleam. Now if she just had some fresh flowers for the window box and some new café curtains. Even without the frills, it wasn't a bad place to hang your hat for a few days. Not like the luxury of home, of course, but with a little sprucing up the cabin would be comfortable and pleasant. And filled with memories of her parents and her youth. Maybe too many mem
ories. But she wouldn't allow herself to dwell on the past. The past always had a way of betraying the present and stealing joy and hope from the future. No, the past would remain…in the past.

“Aunt Barbara?” It was Janee, tugging on her shirttail. “I'm finished eating. Can I watch TV?”

Barbara was about to say “sure,” when she remembered they wouldn't have electricity for another day or two. “I'm sorry, honey. You'll have to think of something else to do.”

Janee looked around. “Where are all my toys?”

Whoops! Barbara hadn't thought about toys. How was she going to keep this child entertained without toys or TV? Suddenly, she had an idea. “Janee, let's go outside.” She took Janee's hand and led her out the back door and down the rough-hewn steps where the entire forest was their backyard. There had to be something to do here, she thought. Pick wildflowers. Collect colorful stones. Watch squirrels. “Isn't it beautiful, Janee? All the big trees and flowers and rocks? Do you want to go for a walk?”

“Will we see little animals?”

“Maybe. Keep watching, okay?”

A fat brown squirrel scampered by and darted up a tree.

“There's one!” Janee squealed, breaking free and scampering after the animal.

“No, Janee, come here! Don't touch!”

Janee trudged back. “I want to keep the little squirrel.”

“You can't, honey. It belongs here in the wilds. It probably has a little family nearby. He's probably collecting acorns for food.”

“What are acorns?”

Barbara stooped down and picked one up. “See, it's like a little nut and it comes from the big oak tree. The squirrels gather them and take them home for dinner.”

“Can we eat them, too?”

“No, honey, just the squirrels.”

Barbara heard a rustling sound behind her and then a booming male voice. A voice from the past. “Hey, Barb, is that you?”

She whirled around, a smile breaking on her lips. “Trent! Trent Townsend. I can't believe it. Is that really you?”

Trent came striding across the wide expanse of grass—a tall, ruggedly handsome man with sturdy, tanned features and curly, flyaway brown hair brushed loosely over his forehead. He was wearing a flannel shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. “If you aren't a sight for sore eyes, darlin'!” He pulled her into his arms before she could utter a word. He wore the same spicy aftershave she remembered from their courting days. “What are you doing up here on the mountain, Barb, honey? A vacation?”

She stepped back and pushed her own wind-tossed curls away from her face. She covered her eyes to block out the noonday sun, suddenly wishing she'd put on a little makeup. “Not a vacation ex
actly. More like trying to get away from all the aftershocks.”

He grinned, showing white teeth and warm, crinkly eyes. “That was quite a jolt the other day. We felt it here, but it was just a sweet little rocking motion. It woke me up, then nearly put me back to sleep.”

“Well, it nearly wrecked our house,” said Barbara.

“You're kidding, darlin'.”

“I wish I were. Doug insisted I come up here until things settle down in the city.”

“How is Doug?”

“Fine. Busy as ever.”

Trent nodded toward Janee. “Yours?”

Barbara's face flushed. “No. Doug's sister's girl.”

“But you have a daughter, right? Didn't I hear that?”

“Uh, yes, I did.” Barbara's mouth went dry. “It's a long story, Trent. I—”

“It's okay. I have a few of those myself. Long stories, I mean.”

She looked over at the log cabin next door. “Are you vacationing?”

He rubbed his forehead, as if weighing his answer. “No, Barb, I'm settled here for good.”

“You're living here on the mountain?”

He nodded. “Been here nearly a year.”

Barbara shifted from one foot to the other. It felt
strange making idle conversation with a man she had once loved. “I've forgotten, Trent. Do you and Sheila have children?”

He kicked at a clump of earth with his leather boot. “No, darlin'. We didn't have kids. Wish we had.”

She looked at him curiously. Darkness clouded his gray-green eyes. Something was wrong. One of those long stories he didn't want to talk about? “Is it Sheila?” she asked gently. “Are you two divorced?”

“Naw. Nothing like that.”

His voice took on a heaviness that stirred a sense of foreboding inside her. “What is it, Trent?”

He looked her square in the eyes and said, “Sheila died. An accident. Last year.”

“Trent, I'm so sorry. I hadn't heard,” Barbara said quietly.

He shrugged. “I wasn't too good about letting folks know. I should have called or written, but she was the one who always kept in touch. You know me. A loner. I didn't want to talk to anyone.”

“I know the feeling,” Barbara admitted. “Doug and I…we lost our daughter four years ago.” She hadn't planned to mention Caitlin, but now it seemed the proper thing to do. In a way, she and Trent were comrades in grief.

“Four years ago,” he echoed solemnly.

“But it feels like yesterday.”

“I know what you mean. Just when I think I'm
starting to pull myself together, something happens, and I feel like I'm back at square one again.”

“That's perfectly normal,” Barbara assured him with an ironic smile. “I should know.”

Trent swung his arm around her shoulder, a comforting, protective gesture. “Looks like we've got a lot of catching up to do. Why don't you come on over for some coffee and chitchat.”

“I don't know, Trent…”

“Come on, Barb. One cup. Decaffeinated, right? And ten minutes of your time. For old times' sake. You always were great at picking up my spirits.”

She eased away from his touch. “Maybe one of these days, Trent. I'm not much for socializing right now.”

“Sure, I gotcha.” He gazed around, squinting against the sunlight. “Listen, you need any help settling in? How about firewood? You got firewood? It's autumn and we'll be having some cold nights up here.”

“I…I don't know if we have firewood or not. We just drove up yesterday, and I'm still—”

“Sure, I understand. I have plenty of wood. I'll bring some over.” He looked toward the driveway. “Do you have a car?”

“It's back home. Doug drove me up. He'll be back in a few days. Maybe even sooner.”

“Well, if you need a ride to the Village or anywhere else, you just say the word. I'll give you a lift wherever you need to go.”

“Thanks, Trent, but I couldn't impose.”

He stepped closer and gently knuckled her chin. “Sure, you can. What are old friends for?”

Barbara was almost relieved when Janee came running up with a fistful of wildflowers. “Look, Aunt Barbara! Pretty flowers!”

“Goodness, they're lovely. Let's get them into water.”

Janee held out her other hand. “Look what else I got. A funny shell.”

Barbara chuckled at the brown object in Janee's palm. “That's not a shell, honey. That's a pinecone. It came from the big pine tree.”

“What's it for?”

“Well, when I was a little girl, I made dolls out of pinecones.”

Janee jumped up and down. “Make me a doll, please, Aunt Barbara!”

Barbara looked over at Trent and shrugged. “I'd better take a rain check on that coffee. I have some serious doll-making to do here.”

Trent grinned and took a couple of steps backward, his thumbs hooked on his jeans' pockets. “Looks that way. But you haven't seen the last of me, darlin'. Our paths will cross again, and that's a promise.”

Barbara gave Trent a parting wave, then took Janee's hand firmly in hers. “Come on, honey. Get that old basket by the porch. If we're going to make
dolls, we have to find ourselves some more pinecones. And maybe a few acorns, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, the two trooped up the back porch steps with a hefty basket of pinecones and their pockets bulging with acorns. Janee was ecstatic. They went inside, and Barbara set the basket on the kitchen table, then went in search of scissors, glue, poster paints and scraps of colorful material. She spread the items out on the table, then sat down across from Janee. “See how we make funny little people? Here's the head and here's the body.” She glued an acorn to the top of a pinecone, then added a scrap of red flannel for a coat and painted a happy face on the acorn.

Janee clapped her hands in glee. “Let me do it!”

During the next two hours Barbara helped Janee make an entire family of pinecones—a mommy and daddy, three children, and a dog and cat. “I made pinecone families just like this when I was little,” Barbara told Janee as she put the finishing touches on the cat's face. She remembered as if it were yesterday. “We sat right here at this very table.”

Janee looked up, wide-eyed. “Did your mommy help you?”

“Yes, she did,” Barbara said softly, the poignant recollections tumbling into her consciousness. “She helped me just like I'm helping you.”

Janee selected several stout, rough-hewn little figures and arranged them in a row on the table. She pointed at each one and said with exaggerated im
portance, “This one is Uncle Doug and this one is Aunt Barbara. And here's Janee and Tabby. Look, we're a family!”