Whiteout

by Vicki Delany

  “Joanna,” Tiffany screamed into the wind, all the pain of her short, harsh life pouring out through her voice. She had come so far, and tried so hard, she would not give up now. “Where are you? Joanna!”

  A stark white hand reached out of the moving snow and gripped Tiffany’s arm. Joanna groaned once, and pulled herself onto the shore. They lay in each other’s arms for a moment before Tiffany struggled reluctantly to her feet. “We’ll freeze here just as well as on the lake. Let’s get moving.” Once again she dragged Joanna upright.

  They were standing on the little stretch of rocky beach right below Joanna’s cabin. Tiffany could see the porch light burning faintly through the trees. As they struggled up the hill the wind died and the snow ceased to fall. Overhead a full moon and galaxies of brilliant stars were coming out. The old owl hooted once in greeting. Tiffany remembered Jack, but pushed the thought out of her mind. If they didn’t get to shelter, Joanna would die. If Jack was waiting, well, she would deal with him then.

  The front door flapped open, back and forth, back and forth. Tiffany shoved Joanna into the cabin and struggled to shut the door against the mound of snow piled in the entrance. She gave up and dragged Joanna over to the fireplace. Fortunately several logs lay beside the stove and Tiffany tossed them in along with a pile of magazines sitting on the coffee table. They caught almost immediately. Tiffany hoped that Joanna wouldn’t be mad at her for burning her magazines before she read them. She propped Joanna up against the couch in front of the fire, legs splayed out in front of her, head lolling to one side. Only then did she stumble into the bedroom, grab the cell phone, dial first the ambulance service and then the police. Once they assured her that help was on the way, she called her grandma, and burst into tears.

  Epilogue

  Joanna plugged in the last power cord and switched on computer and monitor. She stood back to watch the machine whirl to life. The monitor glowed and the famous logo appeared.

  “This is so exciting,” Maude exclaimed clapping her hands. “I really feel that I’ve joined the twentieth century.”

  “It’s the twenty-first now, Grandma.” Tiffany reminded her.

  “That’s too science-fictiony for me get my old head around.” Maude smiled.

  “Well, you remember,” Joanna said, “I’ll be back for my computer soon. If you decide you like using it, then you’ll have to buy one of your own.”

  Tiffany sat down at the keyboard and clicked mouse buttons. Her hair was growing out, brown roots reaching up about 3 inches into the purple hair. The attitude was gone, and she smiled fondly and full of confidence at her grandmother and closest friend. “Look at this, Grandma. You can find out anything you want on the Internet. Think of something, and I’ll look it up for you.”

  Maude chuckled, “Later dear, we do still have a guest, remember?”

  Joanna smiled and hugged the old woman tightly. “I’m not a guest any more, am I? I hope I’m more that that.”

  Maude gripped Joanna in return, and then released her to wipe tears from the rough, old cheeks. “Much more than that, dear. Much more than that.”

  The old woman sniffed, still trying to hide her tears. “Now I hear the kettle, so while I go and get the tea things, will you please let Rocky in. I think he’s about to break down the front door.”

  Joanna opened the door wide and the dog bounded in, a faded old tennis ball, half ripped to shreds, clutched between his teeth. “Look, Rocky’s found a toy. It’s probably been sitting outside all winter.”

  “Don’t you play with that dog in the house, Joanna. Throw that horrible old ball back outside and come and have tea.”

  Joanna and Tiffany exchanged grins before Joanna tossed the ball through the open door. It rolled down the steps and came to rest in a pile of soft mud under the crocuses. Rocky threw Joanna a dirty look and then trotted into the kitchen at the sound of plates and cups rattling. He was not disappointed, and soon returned with a dog biscuit clenched between his powerful jaws. Ball forgotten, he settled down to enjoy the treat.

  Leaving Tiffany to open up the exotic world of Lara Croft, Joanna joined Maude in the kitchen. The brown betty sat in pride of place on the old Formica table, surrounded by dainty glass containers for cream and sugar and a plate of sugar cookies. Joanna took a cookie with pleasure. Sunlight streamed in through the kitchen window and the African violets stretched themselves eagerly toward the rays.

  “Tiffany is going to miss you, a lot.” Maude poured tea and eased herself into a chair. “As am I.”

  Joanna stretched her hand across the table. Maude squeezed it with affection. “And I’ll miss you as well.”

  “I hope not to be gone for too very long.” Joanna smiled at her friend. “Even if I wanted to I can’t afford to be not working.”

  “If you’re short of money…”

  Joanna cut her off. “I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about that.” She had squirreled away most of her fee from Morris Lipton’s project and tried to live off the other small jobs that she managed to obtain. Fortunately, she had taken out disability insurance once she decided to go into business for herself and that provided a bit of income while she was hospitalized and her hands were recovering.

  “My ex-husband is actually paying for most of the trip,” Joanna said. “He says he made a bit of money on the stock market and wants to put it to good use.”

  “You’re very lucky.” Maude said.

  “I am, indeed.”

  The women sat in silence for a few minutes, both of them deep in thought about how just how lucky they were.

  Joanna finished a cookie and stood up, brushing crumbs from the front of her sweater. Maude struggled to her feet. It hurt Joanna to see how slowly her neighbor moved and how she held her hand to her back as she struggled to stand upright. Conscious of Maude’s pride, she pretended not to notice.

  “Well, I’m off, Tiffany,” Joanna said, taking her coat down from the hook by the door and slipping into a pair of hiking boots. “Look after my baby, eh?”

  Tiffany leapt up from the computer. “I’ll walk up the road with you. I’m sure Rocky would like the exercise.” At the sound of his name the old Malamute pricked up his ears and trotted to the door.

  The women laughed. “I think that that’s a ‘yes,’” Maude said.

  Joanna stopped for a moment at the bottom of the steps to admire the mounds of purple and yellow crocuses that had rushed out of the cold, dark earth the very moment the snow withdrew and the first feeble rays of the spring sun warmed the ground above them. A few hardy tulips were poking their heads up, still trying to decide if it was quite time to wake up yet.

  “Your grandma is going to have a great display of flowers soon.”

  “I guess.” Tiffany kicked at a rock under her feet.

  They walked up Maude’s driveway and strolled down the road toward Joanna’s cabin in silence, each woman deep in her own thoughts. All around them the woods threw off the oppressive mantle of the long dark winter and reached eagerly into the spring sunshine. A few of the earliest deciduous trees were sporting buds already and the pines readied themselves for another year’s growth. A rabbit hopped across the road in front of them, full of the joys of spring and they could hear birds chirping in the trees, announcing that they had arrived home once again. Joanna remembered when she was a child, going to see the movie Bambi with her sisters and parents at the Galaxy cinema. Her favorite scene in the movie and the one she remembered still, was when the forest animals first woke up to spring and how they all came out to play.

  “Have you ever seen Bambi?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Rent it on video one day, if it’s available. I think you’ll like it.” Joanna rubbed at her right hand.

  “Is your hand bothering you?” Tiffany asked.

  “No, not at all. Just a bit itchy. It’s perfectly fine.” The frostbite on Joanna’s nose and her hands, particularly the right, had been severe, but fortunately Tiffany had got
her well placed in front of a fireplace, close enough to be warm but not too near to overheat the wounds, and the ambulance crew were acquainted with the treatment of frostbite, so she suffered no lasting damage. But it had been tense for a while. Elaine rushed up from the city and sat beside Joanna’s bedside all the long days. She called James in Vancouver and Wendy in Whitehorse to assure them that their mother was fine and was in absolutely no danger. Scott O’Neill came as soon as he heard the news, his huge head and bushy beard almost hidden behind an enormous bouquet of flowers. He returned every day to visit and with Elaine’s encouragement he and Joanna gently resumed their budding relationship.

  Tiffany was the hero of the day and the entire town was abuzz with the news. People who had never before done anything more than glare at her on the street now offered to shake her hand and declare how they had known all along that there was plenty of good in that girl. Maude, steadfast and resolute as always, made sure that Tiffany knew she was no more than a nine-days-wonder and before long those same people would be back to criticizing her clothes and her hair and everything else about which they could find to complain.

  Jack Miller, the townsfolk exclaimed as one, they always knew he was up to no good. Never could trust Jack, they assured each other. And look at the way he always treated that poor wife of his. Roy McMaster, enemy of Jack (as well as Luke and apparently most of the men of similar age) for forty long years, became a local hero, second only to Tiffany Jordan. Only Nancy Miller showed any grief over her uncle.

  Once help arrived Tiffany allowed herself to collapse into hysterics. It was a while before she managed to calm down enough to explain to the police what had happened. An all-out search then began for Jack Miller. It didn’t take long before his frozen body was found in the deep woods across the road from Joanna’s property. Loosing sight of his prey, apparently he floundered through the winter’s night in the wrong direction thinking he was still after them. Eventually he tripped over a rock and simply lay where he fell and let the cold move in.

  The police searched his house and found tens of thousands of dollars in cash hidden in the garage and garden shed, places Jack’s wife never ventured. They also pulled out brochures featuring vacations in Bali and Tahiti, which Jack’s distraught and confused wife confessed to never having seen before.

  Inspector Erikson and Staff Sergeant Reynolds visited Joanna in the hospital to keep her up to date on the winding up of the investigation. Erikson gently took Joanna’s wounded hand in her own and thanked her for her assistance. Joanna didn’t know what assistance she had offered, but was happy to accept the thanks anyway.

  Nancy Miller soon followed, cheap flowers clutched tightly in a sweaty hand. She confessed to Joanna that she had always disliked her Uncle Jack, but he was, after all, her uncle. It was painful for Joanna to watch Nancy’s expressions of guilt, as if she, Nancy, had something to do with all that had happened. Joanna accepted the flowers with thanks and told Nancy with a bright smile that they would still be friends. But as she watched Nancy slink out of the hospital room she feared that they would never be comfortable in each other’s company again.

  Deep in remembrance Joanna was startled to find that they had already arrived at the little cabin in the woods. As soon as she was home from the hospital Joanna arranged to have the broken step on the front porch mended. It’s fresh, bright wood stood out among the rest of the weather-worn house. A few tired old crocuses struggled vainly to push themselves up out of the mud across the front of the cabin. Joanna made a mental note to put fresher bulbs in, come autumn. A flash of sunlight on glass under the porch caught her attention and she bent to pull out a bottle of wine, a very nice Australian Shiraz. She studied it for a moment, wondering from where it had come, and carried it into the cabin.

  She put the wine bottle in the rack under the sink, then went to get her purse and suitcase. When she came out Tiffany was standing on the ridge, looking out over the lake, sparking and blue in the spring sunshine. Frantic barking, high-pitched quacking and much splashing announced that Rocky was threatening a pair of ducks who had dared to venture too close to shore.

  Joanna tossed her belongings into the back of the car. She faced Tiffany awkwardly. “You’ll be sure to watch the cabin, now. Water my plants and…”

  “Yes, Joanna, I’ll remember.”

  “I’m scared, you know.” One hand on the door handle, Joanna paused and faced the girl. “I’m afraid that she’ll reject me, again.”

  “Maybe she will and maybe she won’t. But if you don’t go, you won’t have given her the chance. And wouldn’t that be the saddest thing of all?”

  Joanna nodded. “That it would. Take care of my things. I’ve put my house in Toronto up for sale and when it goes through I intend to buy this run-down old place, so it had better be here when I get back.”

  “It will.”

  “Now, you have Scott’s number, right? If there are any problems and anything that needs fixing he’ll come out and look after it.”

  “I know, Joanna.”

  “Do you want a ride back to your house?”

  “No thanks. I think Rocky would like the walk.”

  They hugged each other tightly, as if they were holding on to a lifeline. Tiffany was the first to break the embrace and awkwardly Joanna climbed into the car. Waving frantically she backed up the driveway and turned into the road.

  Before putting the car into drive, she noticed a huge, life-worn owl sitting in the tree above her car. It was unusual to see her out in the daylight, so Joanna watched for a moment. Then she shifted the car into gear, tooted the horn in a chorus of good-byes and pulled away.

  As Joanna drove off down the muddy old road, she glanced in the rearview mirror for one last look at her young friend, who stood waving from the top of the driveway. Rocky dashed across the road, jaws snapping in pursuit of a butterfly. Before she rounded the bend and they all disappeared from sight, Joanna had one last glimpse of the great horned owl as she caught a thermal and soared away above the forest.

  About the Author

  Vicki wanted to write for many years but the pressure of a growing family and career made it impossible. But now that her children are older, and her career as a systems analyst is well established, Vicki devotes most of her spare time to reading and writing. Whiteout is her first completed novel. It was a semi-finalist in the Chapters’ Robertson Davies First Novel Competition for 2000, and winner of the EPPIE award for the best mainstream novel published electronically in 2000.

  Vicki lives in Oakville, Ontario, but her first love is the Canadian wilderness where most of her stories are set. With one daughter living in Nelson, B.C. and another summering in Sioux Lookout, Ontario (plus another daughter attending the University of British Columbia), she has plenty of opportunity to discover the more remote areas of Canada.

  “I want to write what I love,” she says. “The trees and rocks and lakes and rivers of Canada are where I want to be, so I put my characters there.” Her second novel, Murder at Lost Dog Lake, takes place on a wilderness canoeing expedition in Algonquin Park.

  She has a collection of short stories, both for adults and children. One of her stories, My Seat, was the runner-up in the 2000 Bloody Words Convention short story contest.

  Vicki’s other interests include hiking and quilting, which has lately taken a back seat to her writing. “I started a quilted wall hanging for a good friend’s twenty-fifth wedding anniversary,” she says. “But then I got so involved in the book, that I might get around to finishing it for their fiftieth.”

  Visit Vicki at her website http://www3.sympatico.ca/vdelany/

 

 

 
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