Winter Chill (2 page)

“Thank you, Joyce.” Marian forced a pleasant smile. She remembered Joyce now. Dan would be pleased to see her if he woke up, she thought as she began to walk down the hall.

 

 

In a way, he was glad she was gone. He loved her so much, and he didn’t know what to say. He had opened his eyes in the early evening to see her sitting there, head bowed slightly, eyes vacant and weary. Somehow it was wrong to interrupt her solitude. They had always been so close, but now what could he say?

It was better to say nothing at all. They would talk later, heal the breach, start over. But not now. Now he was too heartsick to try. And his grief was too new. It was best to pretend to go back to sleep until the pretense became a reality.

 

 

She felt better after the coffee and sandwich. There was a candy machine at the end of the hall, and Marian reached into her purse for change. She should take Laura a Nut Goodie. It was her favorite candy bar.

Marian stopped suddenly, a quarter balanced against the coin slot. A hard, racking sob shook her slender body. She leaned her forehead against the cool, impersonal glass case and held it there until her legs stopped trembling. She couldn’t break down now. She had to be strong for Dan. He needed her. It wasn’t fair. Life would go on and time would pass, whether she wanted it to or not.

CHAPTER 2

The jangling summons of the little bell made her headache worse. Even upstairs, in their bedroom, the noise was jarring.

“Marian? Is there any more coffee?”

Marian sat up. She must have fallen asleep, and Dan needed her. She had to go to him, even though she was so tired, she wanted to sleep for a week.

That was how long it had been. One week of Dan settling in, getting used to the den downstairs, which they had converted into his domain. One week of waiting on him hand and foot. A week of plumping pillows, smiling lovingly, running back and forth to fulfill his every need. But soon all that would change. She couldn’t put it off much longer. Soon she would have to go back to work, take her coffee break in the morning with the other teachers, pretend interest in their lives and their work, and appear normal. She would have to start a new group in reading, put up a colorful bulletin board, sing songs with her class, and convince everyone that everything was just fine. Marian was terrified that she couldn’t do it. Everyone would see that she wasn’t really competent Marian Larsen. She had turned into someone else, some colorless impostor who was no good for her students, no good for Dan, no good for anyone ever again.

Marian hated making excuses to be alone, but she couldn’t let Dan see how unhappy and frightened she was. It wouldn’t be fair to burden him with her problems. Up here, alone, it was all right to cry.

She reached for the bottle of pills on the table and took another one. Dr. Hinkley claimed they would elevate her spirits. She hadn’t told him the pills didn’t work. He had prescribed several types already, and she couldn’t ask for more. Dr. Hinkley might give up on her and tell Dan. She couldn’t let Dan know how desperate she felt. Life wasn’t worth living without her baby. If only she could think of a decent way to end her torture.

“Just a minute, honey!” Marian slipped her feet into moccasins and ran her fingers through her short, brown, curly hair. “I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee. Then we’ll watch a little television together.”

 

 

Dan could hear the click as she pushed on the alarm button. She was setting the clock now. There was a rustling as she settled down on the bed and covered herself with the blankets. It made him sad that she was so careful not to touch him.

There was something wrong with Marian. Dan had been watching her all week. She was too controlled. . . .
Brittle
was the word that came to mind.

He wished she would break down, just once. He’d never seen her cry, and that wasn’t good. He knew she cried alone, but she wouldn’t share her grief. She was always kind and cheerful, a model wife. She was playing a part; the real Marian was hidden. That scared him.

Dan stared up into the darkness. He despised being helpless. He lifted his head and peered down to see if his feet were covered. That was a little thing most people took for granted. If your feet were cold at night, your blanket had slid off. Now he couldn’t tell if his feet were cold or not. It bugged the hell out of him.

He reached under the covers to squeeze his leg. Nothing. He concentrated until beads of sweat were lining his forehead, but nothing moved.

He concentrated again, trying by sheer force of will to make his leg move. He tried again and again until tears of frustration ran down his face. If he was going to be like this for the rest of his life, he’d rather be dead.

 

 

Marian was not sleeping. She heard a rustle from the living room and a thump as Muffy jumped off the couch to pad softly across the rug. The little dog ran upstairs to take her place at the closed door to Laura’s room. Suddenly the thought of Muffy, waiting with sweet animal patience outside Laura’s door, made the tears come.

“Marian? Honey. What’s wrong?”

Marian tried her best to stop crying, but it was no use. The sobs shook her whole body as Dan reached out to draw her closer.

“It’s Laura, isn’t it?” Dan’s voice was soft. “Tell me, honey. Talk to me.”

This time she couldn’t hide. The anguish was too keen, the racking sobs too violent to pretend that everything was all right.

“Yes.” The word was muffled as he pulled her against his shoulder. “I can’t live without her, Dan! It’s too hard. I . . . I just can’t stand it anymore!”

There was a long silence as he held her in his arms. There should be something he could say, some way he could give her comfort. He had known this moment was coming, but he was still unprepared for it. Somehow he had to give Marian the courage to go on living.

“You have to go on, Marian.” Dan’s voice was firm. There was no hint of the desperation he felt. Marian didn’t want to live without Laura. He knew how she felt. But he had to say something to change her mind.

“Think about Laura for a minute, Marian. Do you think Laura would be proud of you right now? Would Laura want to see her mother acting this way?”

Marian was silent. At least she was listening to him now.

“She’d be disappointed in you, Marian. I know she would. And I believe that Laura’s there somewhere, listening to every word we say. She isn’t gone forever, Marian. I can’t believe that. She’s just in another place, waiting for us to join her someday. You don’t want Laura to be sad, do you, Marian?”

It was a full minute before Marian spoke. Then her voice was shaking and full of doubt.

“Do you really believe that, Dan? That Laura can hear us now?”

“I believe it, honey.” Dan’s arm tightened around her, and he sighed deeply. “And you can believe it, too, if you let yourself. Try it, Marian. Try to believe. Will you try it for me?”

“If only I could, Dan.” Her voice was a whisper. “Yes. Darling . . . I’ll try.”

The words still echoed in his mind long after she’d dropped off into an exhausted sleep. Had he deliberately misled her? Dan wasn’t sure if he believed in an afterlife or not. But believing in life after death certainly couldn’t hurt Marian. She had to have something to hold on to, something to pull her out of her terrible depression and make her want to live again. He hoped he had given her that much, at least.

 

 

The phone rang again as Marian was making a fresh pot of coffee. She wiped her hands on a towel and hurried to answer it.

“Is there anything Ronnie and I can do to help?” Sally’s voice was anxious, and Marian winced. What could she say? There was nothing anyone could do.

“I don’t think so, Sally. I guess Dan and I will just have to struggle through somehow.”

“So when are you coming back to work?” Now there was a deliberate cheerfulness in Sally’s tone. “Your class is going crazy without you. The first thing Ricky asks every morning is when you’re coming back.”

A smile flickered across Marian’s face. Ricky Owens, the terror of the second grade. The substitute must be making him toe the line.

“Soon, I think. I haven’t really discussed it with Dan yet. I still have two weeks of sick leave coming, Sally.”

“Oh, don’t make it that long!” Sally sounded distressed. “Your kids miss you, and I miss you, too. Edith makes lousy coffee.”

“I’ll let you know just as soon as I decide,” Marian promised. “I have to get back to Dan now. Dr. Hinkley’s with him.”

She sighed as she hung up the phone. Three calls today, one from Harvey, one from Edith, and now the call from Sally. And all three of them wanted to know when she was coming back to work.

Dr. Hinkley smiled as she came into the den. “Well, Marian. You look chipper. Getting ready to go back to that class of yours?”

They were ganging up on her! Dr. Hinkley meant well, but couldn’t he see that she just wasn’t ready yet?

“I’m trying to talk her into going back on Monday. I don’t think it’s good for her to stay in the house like this, do you, Dr. Hinkley?”

And now Dan was getting into the act. For a moment Marian had the urge to scream. Her baby was dead! Couldn’t they see she wasn’t ready to go back? She might never be ready to go back!

“Why don’t you try it for a half day on Monday, honey? The substitute can take the morning, and you go in for the afternoon. Just see how you feel, say hello to the kids again. If it doesn’t work out, everyone’ll understand.”

She was just too tired to fight with all of them. Marian sighed and gave up. They were making her decisions for her, and she guessed she’d have to go along with them.

CHAPTER 3

It was Saturday morning, and Marian was washing dishes. She was in good spirits this morning. Perhaps Dan was right. She needed something to believe in.

She wiped the last of the plates in the drainer and bent over to get Muffy’s bowl, next to the refrigerator. It was still full. Marian stopped, puzzled. Poor Muffy had eaten practically nothing last week.

There was a slice of cold roast beef in the refrigerator. Marian took it out and cut it into bite-size pieces. She’d tempt Muffy with her favorite treat. Muffy loved roast beef.

“Muffy? Come here, Muffy!”

There was no sound of running feet. Marian put the beef in the bowl and carried it to the living room, looking for Laura’s pet.

“I haven’t seen her all morning, honey,” Dan called out. “Maybe she’s upstairs.”

She found Muffy lying by Laura’s door, head down, eyes closed. The little cocker spaniel looked up as Marian placed the bowl of food next to her. Her tail thumped against the floor once, and then she whimpered.

“What’s the matter, Muffy? Aren’t you hungry?” Marian reached down to pat her silky head. “It’s roast beef, Muffy . . . your favorite.”

Muffy sniffed once at the bowl, and then her head lowered again. It was clear the little dog wasn’t going to eat.

“I’ll leave it right here for you,” Marian promised. “Now be a good girl and eat something. We can’t have you getting sick on us.”

Marian turned to go back downstairs, and then she stopped by the phone in the upstairs hallway. Muffy was losing weight. Her coat had lost its shine, and her eyes were dull and listless. It might be a good idea to call Roy McHenry, the local vet.

It was late afternoon before Roy got back to them. Marian was right. Muffy was definitely ill. The little puppy had lost too much weight, and she was suffering from dehydration. But Roy couldn’t find the cause of Muffy’s malaise. He suggested a change of scene, perhaps a visit to a family with a child. Marian knew he was trying to tell her that Muffy was grieving for Laura.

Dan had come up with the solution. They would take Muffy to the Powells’. It was practically her second home anyway. And Muffy loved Jenny.

“Time to go see Jenny!” Marian called the puppy to her and snapped on Muffy’s leash. “Jenny’s waiting for you. You’re going out to the country for a nice little visit.”

Muffy looked up at her with large, brown eyes. Marian thought she could see a glimmer of excitement in their liquid depths. Perhaps this was best for Muffy. If she adjusted well at the Powells’, she could stay with them. Sally had promised.

Marian picked up Muffy and hurried to the garage. Sally would have a cup of coffee waiting. Dan would have a good time talking with Ronnie, and in the Powells’ huge, cheerful farmhouse, she might be able to forget her cares for a while.

Muffy whimpered as Marian put her in the passenger seat and started the cold van. The small puppy was shivering, and Marian draped a blanket around her. As soon as Laura’s pet had settled in a bit, she backed the van out of the garage and went back after Dan. He was waiting for her just inside the front door.

“Ready for your first outing, Mr. Larsen?” She smiled as she wheeled his chair out the front door and around to the back of the van. The hydraulic lift Jim Sorensen had installed worked perfectly, and in a matter of seconds Dan’s chair was clamped into place.

“I could have stayed home in comfort,” Dan grumbled. “It’s thirteen below, Marian. Of course, that’s not bad for December. The weatherman said it’s going to be a mild winter.”

Marian could see his smile in the rearview mirror. Dr. Hinkley was right. Both of them needed to get out of the house more often.

Marian shivered a little as she backed out onto the street. She had never liked driving at night, and winter driving terrified her. She was glad Dan was with her. Of course, he couldn’t help with the driving, but it gave her comfort just knowing he was there.

The roads were slippery tonight. Marian could see the buildup of ice in the glare of her headlights as she made the turn onto the highway. She had to concentrate on her driving now.

Muffy whimpered piteously and pressed her nose to the cold window. Marian gritted her teeth and swerved just a bit as she turned to look at the cocker spaniel. If Muffy whimpered all the way, she’d be a nervous wreck.

“Drive out to the truck stop and pull in, Marian. Then I’ll take Muffy on my lap. She might ride better that way.”

The snow beat against the windshield in staccato swirls. Marian peered through the glass and ducked her head a bit to see better. The windshield wipers would have to be replaced. It was really difficult to see. The wind was whipping up loose snow and driving it against the side of the van. The gusts came harder and harder and Marian slowed to a crawl. It would take forever to go five miles this way.

At last the lights of the truck stop were visible. Marian gave a sigh of relief and took the corner just a bit too fast. She fought with the wheel as they skidded, and the van responded sluggishly. Then the heavy vehicle straightened, and she pulled into a parking space in front of the café.

“Just take it easy, Marian. . . . You’re doing fine. If you can hand Muffy to me, it’ll make everything a lot easier.”

Muffy was still shivering and Marian handed Dan the puppy and blanket. “Keep her wrapped in this, honey. I heard that’s supposed to be comforting.”

“It’ll be comforting for me, too.” Dan grinned. “It’s cold back here!”

“Oh, God! The heater vents!” Marian groaned as she opened them all the way. “I’m sorry, Dan. I’m not used to anyone riding in the back.”

The heater was on high now, both vents aimed toward the expanse of space in the back. At least Dan would be warm. That made it a little cold in the front seat, but she could take it. They’d paid extra for the auxiliary heater, but it didn’t do much good at thirteen below. A van this big was almost impossible to heat in the winter.

Muffy was blessedly quiet as Marian put the van in gear and drove back onto the highway. Only a mile to go before she reached Ronnie and Sally’s turnoff. Then there were three miles of gravel road to navigate before they got to the farmhouse.

It seemed as if she were crawling. The speedometer read fifteen miles an hour. It would take forever, going this slow, but Marian was afraid to speed up. The wind drove the snow up against the windshield, and Marian shifted her gaze from one side of the road to the other. If she stared straight into the blowing snow, she’d become hypnotized by the patterns and go off the road.

“We’re close, Marian. . . . I spotted mile marker forty-seven. County Road Five should be just ahead.”

“Yes, I see it.” Marian turned right, and the van bumped onto the gravel road. It was growing darker, and that made the blowing snow glare in the beam of her headlights. The familiar road changed in the winter. Landmarks were covered; shapes changed and drifted until it was almost impossible to see the plowed road. Several times Marian slowed to a near stop before she realized where the side of the road was.

“Only about a mile to go, honey.”

Dan’s tone was encouraging, and Marian gave a quick smile. Muffy still whimpered every time the van lurched, but that couldn’t be helped.

“Is it warm enough back there?” Marian called out. “I don’t want you to get cold.”

“It’s fine, Marian. Don’t worry about me. I’ll warm up when we get there.”

Marian doubted that she would ever be warm again. With both vents blowing warm air to the back of the van, it was frigid in the driver’s seat. Her toes burned with the cold, and her fingers, even inside gloves, were stiff and chilled. Marian gritted her teeth to keep them from chattering and gave the van a little more gas so she could plow through the drifts without stalling.

“I think I see their light.” Dan sounded grateful. Another minute of driving and Marian saw it, too. The Powells’ yard light was shining in the distance. Relief washed over her in a wave as she turned in at the driveway and pulled up in front of the house.

“I made it.... We’re here.” Marian shut off the ignition and sighed deeply. At least she hadn’t landed in the ditch. Poor Muffy was whining again. The little dog didn’t understand what was happening, but she would be fine as soon as she saw Jenny.

“I’ll help!” Jenny raced from the house to take Muffy’s leash. “Hi, Mrs. Larsen. Hi, Dan. Mom says to go straight in the kitchen and thaw out. She’s baking fruitcakes.”

The little redhead was clad in a bright green parka and moon boots, complete with a scarf tied around her neck. Jenny was already lifting Muffy out of the van, hugging the little dog tightly.

“Well, well. You decided to come out and see us at last!” Ronnie opened the back of the van and grinned at Dan. “Was he a backseat driver, Marian?”

“I didn’t say a word.” Dan chuckled. “I figured it was best not to distract her, so I did a lot of praying instead.”

“Got something to show you, Dan.” Ronnie unhooked the chair and pressed the button for the ramp. “I’m working on a new project. You’re going to love it.”

Marian turned to watch as Jenny walked the cocker spaniel through the snow. Muffy plodded along, her head hung low. She looked dejected, displaced. Somehow Laura’s puppy reminded her of the orphans she had seen in those ads:
ADOPT THIS ORPHAN. ONLY FIVE DOLLARS A WEEK WILL KEEP THIS CHILD FROM STARVING
.

That kind of thinking was ridiculous. Marian hurried to the house and opened the door. Dan and Ronnie were already inside, and she heard Dan laughing. There was no need to be depressed now. Dan was having a good time with Ronnie, and Muffy would be very happy with Jenny. What the little dog needed was a normal family life again. Jenny would give her plenty of love and attention, and Muffy would be back to normal in no time at all.

“Come on in, Marian!” Sally called out from the kitchen. “I’m up to my elbows in candied fruits, so you’ll have to pour your own coffee.”

“It smells wonderful in here.” Marian breathed in deeply and grinned at her friend. “You must have a couple of fruitcakes in the oven already.”

“Actually, it’s leftovers from two months of dinners,” Sally confessed with a grin. “I just haven’t had time to clean the oven. Well? What are you waiting for? Pour yourself some coffee and sit down.”

The kitchen was so bright and cheerful that Marian felt almost like crying. Sally was wearing a big white apron, and she looked happy and content. This old farmhouse suited her perfectly. Marian could imagine Sally as a farm wife, baking bread every day and milking the cows.

Marian leaned back in her chair and then quickly sat up again as it gave an alarming
creak
. Most of the Powells’ furniture was from swap meets and garage sales. And it was always in very tenuous repair. Sally said Ronnie kept promising to get around to fixing it, but he never had the time.

“Ronnie must have Dan in the workroom.” Sally shook her head. “You won’t believe what that man of mine is building now!”

“Two coffees, Sal.” Ronnie appeared in the doorway, grinning. “Dan’s looking over the plans right now. Then I’m going to wheel him around the outside and take him to the basement. His eyes are going to pop right out when he sees my boat.”

Ronnie hugged his wife so hard, he lifted her right off the floor. Sally laughed and tipped her face up to his, clearly enjoying the moment.

Marian looked down quickly and stared at the red and white checked tablecloth on the table. Dan wasn’t as affectionate as he’d been before the accident and neither was she, but Marian knew how hard they were both trying and the thought of their effort warmed her.

“Just holler if you need anything.” Ronnie snitched a handful of nuts and raisins and headed for the kitchen door. “And don’t come down to the basement. I want to surprise you when it’s all finished.”

Sally put her finger to her lips until she was sure Ronnie had gone. Then she laughed good-naturedly.

“I was afraid you were going to ask about the boat. Ronnie’s building what looks like a schooner in the basement. Jenny and I went down there the other day to take a look. The way Ronnie’s building it, it’ll never fit through the basement door. At first we were going to tell him, but you know how stubborn he is. I swore Jenny to secrecy, and we’re just waiting around for the explosion when he finds out for himself. I guess he’ll have to tear down a wall to get it out.”

“Another Ronnie Powell project at its best?” Marian started to laugh. “Remember the bookcases on the porch?”

“Exactly the same,” Sally sighed. “But that one wasn’t so bad. At least he put in a sliding glass door when he cut the hole in the wall. This time we’re hoping he’ll enlarge the basement and turn it into a rec room.”

Marian laughed, but even to her own ears it had a hollow sound. Sally turned to look at her sharply.

“How are you really, Marian? You’re sitting there, wound as tight as a mainspring.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine.” The response was almost automatic by now. Marian forced a smile that wavered a bit, and she was sorely tempted to blurt out all her problems to her warmhearted friend. Sally really wanted to help her.

“It’s been a tough day.” Marian forced out the words. “Tomorrow will be better.”

“It’d better be!” Sally buttered a pan and poured in batter. “My kids were awful today. Robbie Benton upset the sandbox right before the bell, and Jane Herman cut her knee on the playground. I thought I’d have a little relief at nap time, but there was no sleep for my bunch today. They were like a herd of little wildcats. There’s only one thing that keeps me going. You’re coming back on Monday. I think that’s just fantastic, Marian!”

This time Marian’s smile was genuine. Talking about school was safe and easy.

“Are you going to the teachers’ Christmas party?” Sally opened the oven and popped four fruitcakes inside. “Ronnie won’t go. He says he was too hungover last year. I thought if you wanted, we could go together.”