Down the Dirt Road (27 page)

    I am looking forward to your return.  Please don’t let me down.

    Yours,

   Jennie

     By the
time Jennie finished reading half a dozen
more letter
s
and writing replies, she was emotionally spent.  Each letter became more personal than the last, reminding her that she was specia
l and there was someone out there
who loved her more than her own words could describe.
  Pulling a pink ribbon from her nightstand drawer, leftover from her younger days, she tied it around the stack and placed them in the drawer next to her Bible and her rosary, two items she hadn’t seen nearly enough of since Daddy passed.  She vowed to start attending church again after the new year- or after the storm of the century was over.

    Storm of the century… so much snow…   

   Dropping back against her pillows she groaned.  Having spent most of the afternoon and evening reading Grayson’s letters and responding to them, she never went back outside to work on the sidewalk
.
  Snow had to be piled two feet deep.  Studying her ceiling as she always did when her brain was in turmoil, Jennie considered all that she had read that day.  How different things might have been day to day for her if she had been receiving them all along.

    Her head ached and her eyes burned.  It was time
to
give her brain a rest and go down stairs to rummage for some supper. 
She hadn’t realize
d
before just how hungry she was.  Lunch had gone forgotten in the wake of the mysterious package on the front porch.  But she was sure that 
Momma’s homemade soup had to be there jus
t waiting for her.

    Just as she expected, the snow had continued to fall all afternoon.  A quick glance out the living room window confirmed her worst fears about the walkways.  Despite the darkness and the falling snow, she could see at least six inches of fluffy white stuff piled up on the porch steps.  The driveway appeared
relatively
clear though,
thankfully.
Uncle Tommy had probably given it another pass as he headed home after his evening visit with Momma.  She was grateful that her father’s brother filled a sort of void in her mother’
s life but she was even more thankful that he helped with things like plowing and other heavy tasks that would just be way too much for her on her own.  She never wanted to admit when she couldn’t handle something, even if it were obvious that she couldn’t.

    A rumble deep in her abdomen reminded Jennie why she had come downstairs in the first place so she turned from the frosty window
panes
and headed back into the kitchen.  The box Michael had sent lay open on the kitchen table, the small red package for Trisha the only thing left inside. 

   A
nger started to build as she looked at
it
, wondering what possessed Michael McKee to think that he knew what was best for her.  It was obvious that it was really Trisha he was worried about.  Maybe he had heard the rumors floating around town about Trisha stepping out on him with the new pharmacist at Landry’s Drug Store down on Main Street.  Iraq was a long way for a rumor to travel but who’s to say someone in town hadn’t taken it upon themselves to write to Private McKee and let him know what his pretty little
pregnant
wife was up to.

    What sort of person would
do that to
a soldier?  Especially one
caught in the middle of a
war zone
.  Could be
someone with an ax to grind with Michael…
or
maybe
even
Trisha.  Small towns ran
by
their own playbooks
.  Everyone always knew everyone else’s business and it was
tough to make it through an entire lifetime without rubbing someone the wrong way.

     The pot of soup still stood on the front burner of the stove.  Scooping some out and into a small soup crock, Jennie set it to warm in the microwave.  While she waited, she picked up the small red wrapped package and inspected it.  There was little weight to it- probably jewelry. Maybe some real middle eastern treasure.  Trisha had always been drawn to things that shined.
  There was no way Jennie was going to play Santa for her ex-boyfriend. Nor was she willing to become Trisha’s best buddy again.  If the rumors about her and the pharmacist were true then Trisha hadn’t changed a bit.

    Still, it wouldn’t be right to hold on to the gift.  Maybe tomorrow she would take a walk thr
ough the snow and drop it in Trisha’s
mailbox with a note that it was from Michael.  Yes, that was the plan.  She could avoid seeing the woman she despised yet wasn’
t ruining Trisha’s
Christmas by making her think her husband had forgotten her.
  That was the Christian thing to do; although wh
at she would really like to do wa
s drop kick the thing into a snow
bank where no one would find it until spring but again, that would be very
un-
Christian of her.

    
No, she would drop it off and be on her way.  The microwave beeped announcing that the soup was ready.  Taking the piping hot crock back to the table, Jennie to
ok her time eating and thinking about the events of the day.
Something Michael had said in
his letter kept coming back to her- pretty much about life being short and not holding grudges.
  One minute Grayson was scouting in the desert, the next he was a prisoner.  One minute Daddy was d
r
iving her home, the next he was laying on the bedroom floor, his lips blue and eyes unseeing. 

     What was the sense of holding a grudge against her ex- boyfriend and her former best friend anyway?  For over two years she had carried around the hurt, it was time to let it go.  Why wa
s she still mad at Trisha
?
  There was no room in her life for the anger anymore.  She had moved on, begun to make a life for herself.
 

    Sadness settled in over her like fog over the lake.
 
She would take Trisha the package in the morning.  If Grayson
could give his life for their country she could give an hour of her day for someone she used to care for.

23.

     It took nearly three hours for Jennie to clear away the damage from the overnight snow.  The porch steps and walkway in front of the house were fairly simple but the path between the house and the barn had filled in almost completely with drifts of heavy snow. 
It gave her plenty of time to think.  About Michael’s gift to Trisha and his ridiculous request of Jennie.  About Grayson alone and hurt in some dark cell somewhere in enemy territory.

     When would th
e snow stop?
Even as she pushed the white stuff around making way to get to the barn, more fell
,
filling in the freshly shoveled spaces.

     “For crying out loud!  You have to give it up sometime!  This is Virginia, not Alaska!”  She yelled
high
to the heavens, her voice echoing off the frozen plains that used to be the pasture and the gardens
, her arms waving in the air as though she could catch the attention of God himself
.  Snowflakes clung to her eyelashes and the tendrils that framed her face.  Most of her heavy curls were tucked up in a woolen winter hat once worn by John Marshall that kept her head toasty warm.  Her fingers and toes on the other hand had had just about enough.  If she didn’t get something warm inside her soon she just might turn into an icicle where she stood.

     The inside of the barn was chilly but felt like a blast of warm air compared to the freezing temperatures outside.  Jennie removed her gloves and rubbed her hands up and down against her jeans trying to stimulate warmth and blood flow.  The chickens clucked and pecked as she moved around.  Fortunately she had moved them to the inside coop a couple of weeks ago.  If she hadn’t they might have had a load of frozen chickens by now for sure.

    It took her twice as long as usual to feed the animals and take care of the chores.  There was no denying that Jennie was dragging her icy cold feet.  As soon as she finished in the barn she had something to take care of, something she had no desire to do.  She would rather have a tooth pulled without
novacaine
than make the trip to Trisha and Michael’s house. 

    Jennie let out a wide yawn as she hung the chicken feed bucket back on the old rusty nail it had hung on for as long as she could remember.
  The tin bucket clanged slightly as it settled against the post in the center of the old barn.  The post that supported the hay loft; a hay loft much like the one where he
r
best friend and her boyfriend had crushed her heart all those months ago.  The same best friend she was working furiously on gathering enough courage to go and see in a few minutes.

    Sleep had eluded her most of the night
.  Every time she closed her eyes, visions of Grayson Jennings filled her mind.
  That crooked smile as he said goodbye to her for the last time brought tears to her eyes as her brain conjured images of a different man; one broken and beaten full of
fear yet determined not to give up.
  Even now, as a cold shiver worked itself up her spine she was unable to tell if it was from the cold or from the harsh reality that Grayson was MIA- a prisoner of war.  Even if he survived he would never be the same.  She would be the furthest thing from his mind.
  They were over before they ever had a chance to begin.

     A single tear escaped the corner of her eye, leaving an icy cold trail of salt water on her cheek.  The liquid froze to her skin just below her lower eyelashes.  She made no attempt to swipe at the chill reminde
r of Grayson or where she was about to go.

    When she could drag her feet no longer, Jennie closed the barn doors and headed toward her car.  If she was lucky, the dirt road would be impassable.  Not that Uncle Tommy would let that happen, but if luck were with her…

    And it wasn’t.  The old, rutted road was clear as could be, even crystal white snow banks lining the path like bumpers on a bowling alley. 

    Taking her time as much as for the conditions as for the rock in the pit of her stomach; Jennie made her way up the
road to the turn off leading to Trisha and Michael’s two story farm house.  The drive was full of snow, two tire tracks leading to the house the only break in the expanse of white.  Her little car would never make it through that sea of white.

    Pulling off to the side of the road, Jennie parked the vehicle and climbed out of the driver’s seat.  Pulling her winter coat in close around her, she tugged the fur lined hood up onto her head and began to trudge between the perfectly formed drifts of snow.  She marveled again at how much of the white stuff had fallen on them in such a short time. Never in her twenty two years had there been a winter quite like this one. 

    The tire tracks in the driveway provided her a workable path to the front porch.  Still, by the time she reached the house a few minutes later, snow caked the legs of her jeans and the cold had crept through her heavy work boots and into her toes.  Stomping her feet hard against the wood porch to knock off as much snow as she could, Jennie rung the door bell.  Slightly off key chimes of
We Wish You a Merry Christmas
echoed t
hrough the house.  Loud
footsteps accompanied by a crash on the other side of the door sounded as she waited for Trisha to open it.  Her mittened hand patted the small box in her pocket, an act intended to remind her that she was here for Grayson, not Michael or Trisha.  Her act was small in comparison to Grayson’s in the service of his country but if he could sacrifice, so could she.  Right?

    The handle turned and the heavy, well worn door pulled open.  A very surprised, very pregnant Trisha met her eyes.

    “Can I help…
Jennie
?  Is that you?  What are
you
doing here?”

    “Hi Trisha.”  She scuffed her cold feet against
the snow covered wood.  A stiff wind whipped up just then, sending an icy chill down her spine.  Jennie shivered and rubbed her hands together. Big blue eyes, partially hidden by a mass of blonde curls peaked up at her from behind Trisha’s legs.