Chapter Three
The radio was calling for whiteouts on the way home…
The radio was calling for whiteouts on the way home when an emergency bulletin broke into the hourly weather forecast. Bleak night was falling, with no shadows to highlight the differences in the terrain. The washed-out sun was hidden by low-lying clouds. It was December 17, eight more shopping days until Christmas, or was it seven.
“Police have closed off a section of Highway 17 between Pembridge and Scudmore.” Dwayne Rogerson’s high-pitched, nasal voice crackled over the dashboard speakers.
The man always sounded as if he were speaking through a kazoo. Janet Herbert couldn’t stand the fellow’s news reports, always so complimentary to the established order, far out of proportion to any actual effectiveness on their part. In this neck of the woods there weren’t a lot of choices on the band. The much more mellow FM was non-existent this far up the Ottawa valley.
“A propane truck has jackknifed and gone into the ditch just south of Minnesapawa Junction.” The details followed a familiar outline. “Police and emergency crews are on the scene. Motorists are asked to avoid the area or take other routes. Drivers are being advised to avoid travel if possible through the area as the semi-tractor has been leaking.”
A glance in the mirror showed Ashley, her three and a half year-old daughter, happily gazing out the side window at the pretty snowflakes and the snow-covered trees standing out in stark contrast to the black soil of a farmer’s field. Jason, nine years old last October, and the man of the house, met her eyes in solemn maturity. Jason loved maps, and hoped to be a wildlife biologist someday. But how could she ever save for his education? It was a perpetual worry, one always lurking in the back of her mind.
“We’d better take the turnoff, mom.” Jason was peering out through the windscreen, squinting at the kilometre posts scudding past at the side of the road.
“Okay, honey.” Janet smiled at her son, yet with a lump in her heart.
He was growing up so fast. Her son was the spitting image of Don, killed in a construction cave-in only four years ago. Don went down into a trench to clear the thick mud from the end of a pump, and while Ashley seemed unaffected by the absence of a father, Jason had taken it very hard. The fact that all their savings had been tied up in materials and tools for the custom home being built for a fairly well-to-do client merely compounded the damage the family suffered.
Lately Jason was more aware of his mother’s struggle to make ends meet, and his attempts to help her, to make his mom’s life easier, were more heartbreaking than her daughter’s cheerful innocence. There were times when it seemed the only thing holding them together was love, and hope, and the kids’ ignorance of the true situation. Janet was three months pregnant with Ashley at the time of Don’s death. But the responsibility of coping, being the sole provider, had forced her to focus to the extent that she was numbed beyond grief. Everyone kept telling her how brave she was, when she was just unable to express her grief properly. She simply didn’t have time at first. Don’s accident created a financial crisis that hadn’t let up for a day or even a minute. Janet was beginning to realize that you couldn’t repress it all forever. She was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The four years since Don’s passing had melted into an instant. She could only look back through a kind of tunnel-vision. Otherwise it just hurt too much.
The turn signal’s click-click-click gave her respite, something neutral to focus on, and she absently reached over and squeezed his shoulder. The road seemed good, with no twitches and slips from the front wheels as the tires bit into the tarmac. With a thin grin on her lips she accelerated carefully up to about fifty kilometres per hour as the sky and land blended into one pale dimensionless aura. They were flying through a cloud rather than driving, the bumps and pitting of the surface her only interface with the reality that was Blackmore Road. The two-lane blacktop was deserted even at this early hour, but then she saw the glimmer of headlights of an approaching car to confirm that she was indeed driving on a surface inhabited by other human beings. Shifting the manual transmission into third gear, she briefly regretted scrapping the Lumina, but the truck was at least solid. The bottoms of the doors and fenders were flapping on her car when she called the wreckers, mostly because a friend of a friend said she might get fifty dollars for it. This turned out to be true. It was stunning how fast the money went, and yet she had been hoping to buy Jason a pair of shoes. It just hadn’t happened. Milk, bread, twenty bucks worth of gas for the truck…shoes came last.
With a swish the oncoming vehicle passed, as her wipers slapped back and forth. They entered a patch with white hanging forest on each side, and their intimate little world was reduced to just the three of them. Janet didn’t mind driving on snow. The howling of the big six-ply snow tires on Don’s old crew-cab work truck was much-reduced, the clunking and rattling of the steering box was absorbed, and with the heater pushing great gobs of warm air, it was a snug and secure, peaceful feeling her little family enjoyed, as a bunch of dogs barking Jingle Bells emanated from the radio. No matter if they didn’t have a lot of money, as long as they had each other, they would get through. She reached to turn up the volume on the radio.
“Mom!”
Startled by the strident tone of Jason’s voice, she looked out quickly enough to spot a stag leaping forth in some suicidal attempt to get where he was going in a hurry. Her quick-thinking brain noted with gratitude the portion of the road that was still black and slick as opposed to snow-covered. Stomping the brakes perhaps with more force than was necessary, she steered for the blackness, wondering in stark clarity if they were going to make it. The deer cleared the right front headlight by a hair’s-breadth and bolted into the ditch, where he ran along for some ways before going into the woods to their right.
As the vehicle clunked and shuddered to a standstill, Janet remembered to push in the clutch, but the motor coughed and died. She pulled the thing over onto the narrow shoulder with its last gasp of momentum. She settled down quickly, grateful that Jason had sharp eyes and quick reflexes. Grappling with manual steering, un-powered brakes, three in the tree, on a three-quarter ton vehicle took all of her skill some days.
“That was a close one, buddy.” Janet turned to see if Ashley was all right.
Wide eyes met hers in a seriousness that made her chuckle, but she wasn’t crying or anything, and that was good. Sometimes when Ashley had a nightmare she could go on and on. Doctor Bulow said it was normal at that age, but Janet had wondered about him a time or two.
Janet tried the key but the starter motor sounded slow and lethargic. A sinking feeling settled over her as the engine failed to catch. She had an appointment to get another battery put in next Saturday. She’d called half the repair shops in town, hemming and hawing, until some guy who sounded really nice offered to put in a used battery for her.
If she still had the money by then.
"Oh…”
“Mom,” Jason reminded her gently, with a wink and a nod at the back seat where his little sister sat obliviously.
“Sugar.” Mindful that she had caught her son using the F-bomb last week and had lectured him soberly and sincerely about how a gentleman was known by his behavior, even under the worst of circumstances, she stopped there.
She tried again, and again, until the ignition wouldn’t even click when she turned the key.
As she reached into her purse, she checked the mirror and the road ahead for other traffic, ready to leap out and flag down a passing motorist if one should happen by. Her phone might not work very well out here, surrounded by five hundred-metre hills. She hit the switch and her heart sank. It wouldn’t stay on, and with a chill of recollection, Janet realized that she had forgotten to plug it in last night, and that the battery was running down very quickly lately. She hadn’t found the money to get a new one yet. So now she couldn’t call the garage. All these batteries, she inwardly groaned.
“Oh…”
“Sugar.” Jason finished it for her, as Ashley giggled and chortled in happiness from the back seat.
Janet smiled in spite of herself, although it wasn’t shaping up to be a good day so far.
Now her eyes were caught by Jason’s gasp and pointing finger, and she looked up the road ahead, hoping against hope to see a farm truck or a car. A dark figure was standing in the road, thirty metres ahead, snowflakes swirling around as the wind rose to a new howl and rocked the vehicle with its invisible paws.
The truck rocked and swayed in the moaning gale as Janet stared open-mouthed at the tall figure dressed in jeans, hiking boots and a big hooded parka approaching them.
Tentatively she rolled her window down a few inches. The man spoke kindly through the crack, a glint of humorous concern in his sparkling dark eyes, visible through clear, polarized, wraparound glasses.
“Turn off the headlights, ma’am. Shut off your wipers, the fan, and the radio if it’s on. Can you open up the hood for me? Do you have a rear-window de-fogger? Can you shut that off as well?”
She saw him sling a backpack off of his shoulders in a kind of disbelief, and felt the slight thump as it hit the top of the tool bins behind the cab. Who would be out hiking in this kind of weather? The man lifted up the hood and bent over the engine for a moment, then came back to her side.
“Do you have a screwdriver?”
Dumbly she nodded, and Jason opened up the glove box and began rummaging around for something.
“Maybe something in the tool bins?” Despite the fur-rimmed hood ringing his face, she had the impression of handsome, darkly good looks, with what appeared to be a habitual grin, and laugh lines around his eyes, a strong aquiline nose and a flamboyant, sweeping moustache with short but slightly curled ends.
“Here we go.” Jason offered up a screwdriver in hopeful fashion.
The wind rose again and shards of snow struck her left cheek as she took it and handed it out the window. The forest was otherwise silent around them.
“Is the ignition on?”
She nodded.
“Put it in neutral, please.”
Under the gap of the upraised hood, she saw his hand give a tug on the battery terminals, and then he tapped on them. Then he bent over and stuck his arm way down inside the engine bay. To her surprise, the engine began cranking-over, and all of a sudden it fired up before she could even put her foot on the gas pedal. The tall, good-looking stranger stood off to one side so she could see him, and gave a cheerful thumbs-up. Then he nipped back and lowered the hood down with a firm clunk, and approached her window again.
“Thank you. That’s amazing. What did you do?”
“You have to know how to talk to these machines.” He smiled, handing the screwdriver in again.
She noted a slight blackening around some tiny pits that she was pretty sure weren’t there before. Jean Gagnon stood grinning at the side of the truck.
“Um, can I give you a lift?” She asked with a slight hesitation.
The guy seemed all right, but you just never knew these days.
“I’m going the other way.” He informed them all, curious eyes taking in the children.
“Maybe your husband could clean those starter connections before you go too far.”
Janet nodded, very much aware that tears were springing into place just in behind her eyes and would come shooting out without much further stimulus and that the gentleman’s intelligence, his concern had somehow caught a hint of her vulnerability.
With a small wave, he moved back, and in the mirror she saw him pull the pack off the back of the truck. Before he could get too far, she quickly rolled the window down and called out to him.
“Thank you, sir.” The darkness was deepening and quickly...
“It is an honor, and also a pleasure.” He nodded politely and turned and began walking away.
Heart filled with gratitude, Janet put it into gear, eased out the clutch, and the truck moved off.
“Who was that, mommy?” It was Ashley’s sweet voice from the back seat.
Her daughter’s pronunciation was getting a lot better these days. Janet shook her head at life’s little surprises. Jason watched his mom, noting the look of curiosity and appraisal on her face. A sly grin stole over his features, but he kept quiet for once.
“A very nice man.” Janet turned for a quick look at her daughter.
That was a real stroke of luck. It could have turned out a lot worse, with two kids in the vehicle. She watched the mirror for a second as the man faded into the blowing snow, then turned her attention back to the road ahead. Catching Jason’s eye, she frowned at his gleeful grin, happy that he had nothing to say. The boy was growing up at an alarming rate, but that was just the way things were when they hit a certain age. Then they just kept on accelerating.
END
Images: the internet, effects by Louis.
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