Winter Chill (10 page)

Yes, she knew. Marian watched Dorothy hurry down the aisle. She pushed her own cart around a display of Wheat Thins and stood there, shaking. She couldn’t bear to face him. She’d stand right here and read her grocery list until he left.

The floor was muddy, and her boots were dripping. Marian hated the Red Owl in the winter. There was no way they could keep the floor clean. Customers tramped in dirt and snow, and the wheels of the shopping carts left streaks of grime on the ivory tiled floor. Why didn’t they have a brown floor? At least it wouldn’t look so bad.

She peeked out once while Betty was cashing Drew’s check. A few moments later he left, a six-pack of Coke tucked under his arm. Marian pushed her cart back out into the aisle and took a deep breath. She was acting like a child, hiding this way, but he probably didn’t want to face her, either. Thank goodness he was gone!

Snow was blowing against the plate-glass windows as she finished her shopping and pushed her cart to the front of the store. There were six people in front of her, and Marian stood impatiently, glancing at her watch. There was only one checker, and this was a busy time of year. Someone really should complain about the service. Poor Dan was probably waiting in the parking lot by now.

The new electronic price sensor was out again. Marian heard Betty call out for a price check. Computerized checking might be a wave of the future, but Marian thought it took longer than the old way.

“Hi, Mrs. Larsen. How are you today?” Betty reached in the cart and slid the items over the glass sensor. “Oh, no! There it goes again. Ralph? I need a price check on Schilling garlic salt, small size!”

Marian didn’t see him come in. She felt a hand on her arm and turned to see Sheriff Bates. He was puffing hard, as if he’d been running.

“Do me a favor, Betty. Ring up Mrs. Larsen’s groceries, and send them over to the house. Marian, I need you to come with me for a minute.”

Marian felt a cold chill as she looked up into the sheriff’s eyes. Something had happened! Was it Dan?

Her legs were shaking as he led her to the door. She wanted to ask what was wrong, but she couldn’t speak.

“I just got a call from the hospital, Marian.” Sheriff Bates held her arm. “There was an accident at the hockey rink.”

“No!” She had found her voice at last. Not another accident! She staggered slightly as the sheriff helped her into his car. “Is Dan all right?”

“I don’t know, Marian.” Sheriff Bates sounded sorry. “I got the call over my radio, and Tina didn’t have the details. I just know that the ambulance came and took Dan and Cliff to the hospital.”

Marian turned to stare out the window as Sheriff Bates hit the siren and raced through town. It was a nightmare. It was all happening again. The snow was pelting against the glass exactly the way it had on the day Laura was killed!

CHAPTER 11

“Lower, Cliff . . . close to the ice!” Dan yelled at the top of his lungs. “If you want speed, keep your body low!”

Cliff made another pass, and it was better. Dan shouted out encouragement from the sidelines. At first he’d dreaded the idea of getting all dressed up to come out here, but watching Cliff practice was pure pleasure. The kid was good, the best player he’d ever coached. If Cliff skated this well in the championship game, they had it made.

Dan blew a sharp blast on his whistle, and Cliff stopped near the end of the rink.

“We’d better start back now!” Dan hollered. “It’s almost four!”

“Just one more run!” Cliff grinned at him. “Come on, Coach.... I’m just getting warmed up!”

Dan nodded. He knew how Cliff felt. He used to plead for one more minute on the ice when he was a kid, too.

The wind was rising now. Only moments ago the sun had streaked across the ice in patches of brilliance. Now storm clouds were building, and he could smell the snow. The inside of his nose tingled with the clean, cold scent, and Dan shook his head ruefully. No one from the South could ever understand how it was possible to smell snow in the air.

Dan rubbed his hands together briskly and leaned forward, squinting across the rink. Cliff was coming now, low and fast, just as he had taught him.

He was almost at the goal line when he went down. Cliff’s left leg seemed to crumple, and then he was flat on the ice, hockey stick flying across the rink.

“Jesus!” Dan yelled out. “What happened!”

He expected Cliff to get up and grin, make some smart retort, brush the snow from his uniform, and try it again. But Cliff didn’t move.

“Cliff!” Dan hollered out at the top of his lungs. “Are you all right?”

There was no answer. Cliff was as still as death.

Dan didn’t stop to consider. He knew he had to get out there. He grasped the wheels of his chair and shoved with all his might, trying to get over the mound of snow that lined the rink.

There was a moment when the chair teetered, and he thought it would right itself, plow through the bank of snow and out onto the ice. But the snow was heavy, filled with chunks of ice. One wheel was hung up on the hard-packed snow. Dan gave a strong push with his arms, but his balance was gone. The wheelchair toppled, and he fell awkwardly, sprawling out on the frozen rink.

He gave a groan as his head hit the ice. For one dreadful moment he thought he would pass out from the pain. He was dizzy, the trees swimming around him in a tilting circle, but at last his head cleared. He had to get to Cliff!

Dan prayed that his legs would work, that suddenly he would be able to walk. He tried to pull himself forward across the slick, frozen surface, twisting his body in an awkward crab-like motion. His legs hung as useless ballast behind him, dragging and scraping as he attempted to inch his way closer. There were agonized moments when he made no forward motion at all.

It was no use. Dan felt panic set in, and he pushed it away. He had to use his head. Cliff had fallen like a rock. The boy could be bleeding. He had to get there somehow!

He had it now. Dan raised himself on his arms, his palms flat on the ice. He lunged forward and slid, flopping down on the hard surface. He hit his chin in the process, but he was a foot closer to Cliff.

Dan took a deep breath and did it again. Damn his useless legs! He felt as helpless as a baby, and Cliff needed him.

His progress was slow but steady. Again and again, he used his arms for leverage, punishing his body cruelly for each inch he gained, until his arms were trembling with fatigue.

“Once more . . . gotta make it!” He listened to the sound of his own words for courage. The rink was spinning now, tilting and fading in front of his eyes, but at last he reached the still boy on the ice.

There was no blood. Dan held his breath as he felt for a pulse. He thought he could make out a faint heartbeat. Cliff’s arm was twisted at a crazy angle, and he didn’t have the nerve to touch it. Somehow he had to get help!

It was after four. Dan gritted his teeth and lifted himself to his arms again. There was no telling what had happened to Marian. She might be stuck in line at the grocery store. He’d have to go for help himself.

His teeth were chattering by the time he propelled himself to the edge of the rink. By sheer determination he inched his way to the top of the bank and plunged down the other side. The snow was trampled here, and it would be easier than trying to crawl through unbroken snow. He had to get back to the school and holler for help.

Up. Forward. Up. Forward. Dan forced his body to obey the rhythm of his mind. The wind had picked up again. Snow stung his face, and his lungs were aching from the frigid air. His hands were so cold, he could no longer feel them at the ends of his arms. Looking down, he realized that he had lost one of his gloves. No matter. He couldn’t go back for it. He had to get to the school just as fast as he could.

The huge pine trees in front of him were blurring, and there was a rushing noise in his ears. Still, he dragged himself forward, digging in with his elbows. He couldn’t pass out. He had to do it. There was no one else. He had never been so alone in his life.

 

 

They sure threw away a lot of paper at the school! Lars Engstrom picked up a nearly empty notebook and tossed it into the cab. One of Lucy’s kids would be tickled pink to get it. He found lots of good stuff when he picked up the school’s trash. Last week there had been a box of pencils, red ones. And a whole bunch of old books.

Lars chuckled as he picked up a barrel and dumped it in the back of his truck. They thought he went straight to the dump, but he took the stuff home first and sorted through it. Over the last ten years he’d come up with some real treasures. There was a broken desk that needed a little fixing, a couple of shades that now hung in his living room, and a slab of blackboard that he cut down for the kids. Collecting trash was good work at a place like this.

He stopped for a moment, an empty barrel balanced against the tailgate. He could swear he heard someone hollering. The wind was blowing hard now, and he could’ve been mistaken, but it sure sounded like it was coming from the hockey rink. Maybe he should take a look.

Lars turned his face to the wind and nodded. Yep, that was somebody hollering. Kids weren’t supposed to be on the hockey rink during vacation. Someone could get hurt on the ice.

He spotted them as he climbed up the crest of the hill. Cliff Heller was down on the ice. And Mr. Larsen! That poor, crippled Mr. Larsen was crawling through the snow on his elbows, legs dragging out behind him. There was a bleeding cut on his face, and his wheelchair was tipped on its side by the edge of the rink.

“I’m coming! Hold on there! I’m coming!” The wind whipped the words from his mouth as he broke into a run. “Are you hurt?”

“Call an ambulance!” Mr. Larsen saw him at last. “I’m all right, but Cliff needs help. Hurry!”

Lars turned and ran back toward the school. Seeing a pitiful thing like that made him glad he had two strong legs. There was a phone on the corner, and he dialed the clinic. He sure hoped they’d be all right. Cliff was a nice boy, and he liked poor Mr. Larsen. What a bitch of a thing to crawl through the snow that way!

 

 

The nurse said Dr. Hinkley would be right in to see her. Marian sat in the green plastic chair and shivered. She didn’t want to be here. Every time she was in the doctor’s chair, he had something dreadful to tell her. Dan had to be all right. He had to. Everything was her fault for letting him go to the hockey practice without her!

Marian clasped her hands together and tried to stop shaking. Dan was in a regular room, and that meant he couldn’t be hurt too badly. The nurse had said room eleven. It was the same room he had been in before. Perhaps they were leaving it vacant, just for him.

Her mind was wandering. Marian sat up straighter and tried to pull herself together. It was too much, that was all. The snowstorm, the cold afternoon, the same time of day as when Laura had died.

She had to stop thinking like this, or she’d go crazy. Marian took a deep breath and turned to the window. Curtains of snow blew against the plate glass.

“Marian?” Dr. Hinkley called her name twice before she dared to turn around. She masked the fear in her eyes and faced him.

“He’s going to be fine, Marian, but I think we’d better keep him overnight.” Dr. Hinkley pushed some forms across the desk toward her. “As far as I can tell, it’s minor lacerations coupled with a case of exhaustion. His hands will be painful for a while, but there’s no evidence of frostbite. I’d say he’s a pretty lucky guy.”

Yes, lucky. Marian managed to hold the pen without shaking. His daughter was dead, his wife was unfaithful, and he was injured and paralyzed. How lucky could one man get?

“He’s got a lot of courage, that husband of yours.” Dr. Hinkley was talking again, and Marian forced herself to listen. “Lars Engstrom said he crawled almost fifty yards through the snow to get help. He’s in surprisingly good shape for what he’s been through. We’ll keep him under observation tonight, and he can probably go home with you tomorrow.”

“And Cliff?” Marian was almost afraid to ask. Dan would never forgive himself if Cliff was badly hurt.

“He’s a little worse for the wear.” Dr. Hinkley sighed. “His wrist is badly sprained, and there’s the possibility of a concussion. Cliff won’t be playing any hockey this season, but he’s going to be all right.”

“Have you told Dan?”

“He knows. I’m afraid he blames himself for the accident, Marian. He thinks Cliff was pushing too hard, just to please him. And he’s convinced that Cliff’s injuries would be less severe if he’d gotten help sooner. Of course, that isn’t true, but you know how stubborn Dan can be.”

“I’d better go to him.” Marian stood up and handed the papers to the doctor. “Room eleven?”

“You can peek in on him if you want.” Dr. Hinkley joined her at the door. “I gave him a sedative so he won’t wake up until tomorrow. It was quite an ordeal for him, and he felt so bad about Cliff. I thought he could use a good night’s sleep.”

Her heels clicked down the hospital corridor, keeping rhythm with her thoughts. Poor Laura. Poor Dan. Poor Cliff. And poor her. Too many bad things had happened, and there were more to come. She could feel the pall that hung heavy over her life, and she was so tired of fighting. She wanted to give in and sink into despair. If it weren’t for Laura, she’d have no reason for trying to cope with it all.

He was sleeping, just as Dr. Hinkley said. The lines of fatigue were deep on his face, and he looked like an old, tired man. Marian had thought she was incapable of more pain, but she was wrong. Her heart broke as she stood with her hand on the door.