The Survivors

by Dinah McCall

  Johnny had climbed the stairs at her heels, then pushed in front of her on arrival. Now he was standing openmouthed and in awe, and she could almost remember what that feeling was like.

  “So, Johnny…what do you think?”

  “Maybe we could find a buried treasure!”

  She grinned. “When I was your age, that’s what I always thought, too. So let’s do a little looking around and see if we can’t find something you can give your dad and Daddy Mike for Christmas.”

  “And Molly,” Johnny reminded her.

  “And Molly…I didn’t mean to leave her out. She’s one of the best, isn’t she?”

  Johnny looked up at Deborah, his eyes swimming in sudden tears.

  “My Gran and Granddad Pollard died. I don’t need to give them a present.”

  “I know,” Deborah said, then knelt down and gave him a hug. “I’m really sorry about that, you know.”

  Johnny nodded again, then sighed, as if he had the weight of the world on his little shoulders.

  “When the plane broke, they didn’t wake up.”

  “I know,” Deborah said, then stood up and took him by the hand. “Let’s pretend we’re at a mall and you’re looking for presents, okay?”

  Johnny’s expression lightened. Pretend was something to which he could relate.

  “Yeah, but when I find something to buy, how will I pay you?”

  “Hmm, well, here’s the deal. This mall doesn’t take money. You find what you want, and then you can pay for it by feeding Puppy for me. How’s that sound?”

  “Cool!” Johnny said.

  Deborah grinned. “So where do you want to start?”

  He paused for a moment, then pointed toward a pair of wooden trunks.

  “There. Maybe there’s a treasure in those.”

  Deborah’s grin widened as she saw where he was pointing. “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind, little man. Let’s go treasure hunting, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  As they started across the attic floor, she noticed that his hands were bare and his coat was unbuttoned.

  “Are you warm enough?”

  “Yes. Can we look in this one first?”

  “You bet,” she said, lifting the lid, then propping it open.

  “Hmm, looks like just old clothes in here. Let’s look in the other one.”

  “Yes, the other one will be better,” Johnny stated.

  And it was.

  Sunlight coming through the single dusty window caught and held in the dust motes hanging in the air. Johnny’s eyes were wide with expectation as Deborah fiddled with the latch. Finally it came loose and she pushed the lid upward, then propped it against the wall.

  “Oh, Johnny, look!” Deborah said as she took out a small wooden box.

  “What is it?” Johnny asked.

  Deborah opened the lid, revealing the ivory-handled hunting knife inside.

  “It was my grandfather’s hunting knife,” Deborah said.

  “It has a picture on the handle,” Johnny said.

  “Yes, it’s a grizzly bear…see?”

  “Ooh, cool,” Johnny said. “Daddy would like that.”

  She grinned. “Want to give this to him for Christmas?”

  His eyes widened in delight. “Yes!”

  Deborah put the lid back on the box, then set it aside.

  “Okay, now something for Daddy Mike and something for Molly.”

  “What’s that?” Johnny asked, pointing to a silk-wrapped object in the corner of the trunk.

  “I don’t know…let’s see,” Deborah said, and carefully lifted it out, but as soon as she held it, she knew what it was. “Oh…I remember this.”

  “It’s a merry-go-round,” Johnny said.

  “And it’s a music box, too,” she added.

  “How does it work?” Johnny asked.

  She wound the small key on the bottom of the piece, then set it down on the floor. Almost immediately, the carousel began to turn, and the little horses began to go up and down.

  “It’s playing a song,” Johnny said, and poked a finger at every horse as the carousel turned until it had made a full circle. “I like this one best,” he said, pointing to a black horse with a flowing mane and tail.

  “Yes, that’s a good one,” Deborah said. “Hear the music?”

  “Uh-huh. Does it have a name?”

  Deborah got lost in the rapt attention on Johnny’s face and forgot what he’d asked. His eyes were such a clear blue, and his eyelashes so long and dark. There were seven freckles on the bridge of his nose and another one above his upper lip. The bruises from the crash were still evident, but fading, and the cuts and scratches he’d suffered were healing, as well. He’d seen more ugliness in his brief life than most people ever saw in a lifetime, yet the innocence was still there.

  “Thank God,” she whispered, unaware she’d spoken aloud.

  “The name of the song is ‘Thank God’?” Johnny asked.

  “Um…what? Oh…no, the song doesn’t have a name. It’s just music like you’d hear in a circus.”

  The carousel was beginning to slow down, as was the tune. Johnny traced the shape of the black horse with his forefinger, then patted the horse’s head.

  “He likes apples, I think,” Johnny said.

  “I’ll bet he does,” Deborah said, then leaned down and whispered in his ear, “You think Molly would like something like this?”

  “What do you think?” Johnny whispered back.

  “I think she would.”

  He nodded solemnly, then took the carousel and set it beside the box with the knife.

  “Now something for Daddy Mike,” Johnny said.

  “Right.”

  They dug through the chest, but nothing appealed to either one of them. Not to be discouraged, they abandoned the chest for a stack of boxes in the corner. Almost an hour later, they were still looking and Deborah was getting cold, so she knew Johnny would be, too.

  “I think we’d better call it a day, honey. We’ve gone through just about everything here and nothing seems right. Let’s go down and get warm, and we’ll try looking again later.”

  “What’s under this?” Johnny asked.

  Deborah turned around and saw the old quilt that had been thrown over some objects that were leaning against the wall.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Let’s see.”

  She pulled off the quilt and then tossed it aside. Dust poofed up in the air as it hit the floor.

  “Pictures!” Johnny cried. “Look at the pictures!”

  Deborah went down to her knees and began pulling them out, one by one.

  “They’re not pictures, they’re paintings,” she said. “Feel the surface. Those rough patches are brush marks. Someone painted these.”

  “Like my paint-by-number pictures?” Johnny asked.

  Deborah nodded. “Sort of.” Then she smiled. “I remember this one. My mother had it hanging in her bedroom. I never missed it when she took it down. Isn’t that strange?”

  Johnny was leaning against her back and peering over her shoulder. “Hey! That’s you! Someone painted your picture.” Then he frowned. “Only your dress is all funny.”

  “That’s not me. It’s a painting of my grandmother when she was a young woman.”

  Johnny frowned. “But she has your face.”

  Deborah laughed. “Actually, she was here first, so I guess you’d say that I have hers.”

  Johnny sat down beside her, then leaned back on his elbows, looking from Deborah to the painting and back again, trying to figure out how that theory worked. As he did, he absently looked up and realized there was something lying across the rafters.

  “Hey!” he said. “There’s something up there!”

  Deborah stood, then tilted her head back, squinting past the dust and glare. At first she couldn’t make it out, but then, when she did, she knew they’d finally found the perfect gift fo
r Mike.

  “It’s a sword!” Johnny cried as she took it down.

  “Not exactly,” Deborah said. “It’s actually called a saber, and it was once used by a soldier in my family during a war that happened a long time ago.”

  “My daddy fought in a war,” Johnny said. “And so did Daddy Mike, and Granddad and Grandpop.”

  Deborah listened to the pride in the little boy’s voice and couldn’t help but hope this little O’Ryan never had to go to war.

  “You have a family to be proud of,” she said. “Do you think Daddy Mike would like this?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “He already has some swords hanging on a wall in his den back home. He said someday, when I grow up, the swords will be mine.”

  “That’s great,” Deborah said. “So, are we choosing this for his present?”

  “Yes, please,” Johnny said.

  Deborah didn’t hesitate in giving away a family relic left over from the Civil War. She was the only member of her family who was still living, and saving it only to be sold in some estate sale after she was gone hardly made sense. It gave her a good feeling to know that someone like Mike would have it—a man who would know the sacrifices the soldier who’d owned it first had made.

  “It’s sharp, so be really, really careful with it,” she said.

  Johnny’s eyes were big as he dragged the long saber across the floor, then laid it beside the knife and carousel music box.

  “Okay,” she said as she dusted off her hands. “We’ll leave these by the door while we go down and warm up. Maybe we’ll have some hot chocolate, okay? I’ll get the Christmas paper out of the hall closet, and we’ll wrap them up and put them under the tree for tomorrow morning.”

  Johnny nodded, but he was already through shopping and thinking about the hot chocolate she’d promised. On his way down the attic stairs, it occurred to him that his shopping wasn’t quite done.

  “I didn’t get you anything,” he said.

  Deborah smiled. “My present is all of you. This is the first year in a long time that I haven’t had to spend Christmas by myself.”

  “But you won’t get to open a present.”

  “Yes, I will. My neighbor, Farley Comstock, always brings something. He just hasn’t been able to get here because of the bad roads and weather. It doesn’t matter when I get it. He’ll bring it when he can.”

  “All right,” Johnny said, but he wasn’t completely convinced. He decided he would mention it to Daddy Mike later. He would know what to do.

  Johnny came down from the attic full of giggles and whispers. It did Evan good to see him acting so normal. Molly was well on her way to complete recovery and, except for some lingering soreness and fading bruises, announced she was fine.

  Deborah had taken a large ham from the freezer a couple of days ago and put in the refrigerator to thaw. She would get up early tomorrow morning and put it in the oven. Even as she was making the hot chocolate she’d promised Johnny, her mind was already planning tomorrow’s meal. It was all she could do not to giggle at the excitement she felt. She was humbled to realize how a disaster had turned into one of the most special times of her life.

  “That smells good,” Mike said as he came up behind her and gave her a hug.

  She leaned against him, soaking up the comfort that came with the hug.

  “I made plenty,” she said. “Want a cup?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, then buried his face in her hair. “Your hair is beautiful…just like you.”

  Deborah’s heart soared. Lord, I could so love this man. Help me not to get hurt. Still, she could no more turn away from him than she could stop breathing.

  “Are you flirting with me?”

  Mike grinned. “If I say yes, how far will it get me?”

  She turned the heat off under the hot chocolate and wrapped her arms around Mike’s neck.

  “As far as you want to go,” she said, then cupped his face and kissed him.

  So tenderly—so gently—so lovingly.

  Feelings Mike hadn’t dealt with in years hit him gut-first and swamped him under. He didn’t know how all this was going to turn out, but he knew for certain that he didn’t want to lose her.

  Then they heard footsteps coming down the hall and reluctantly parted. By the time Evan came into the room, Mike was sipping hot chocolate and digging in a cookie jar, while Deborah was pulling mugs down from the cabinet.

  “Hey,” she said. “You’re just in time for some hot chocolate.”

  “I’m going outside to get some firewood first.”

  “I’ll help,” Mike said as he stuffed the last bite of a cookie in his mouth.

  Just as they started out the back door, the phone rang. It was such a startling sound that for a moment, no one moved.

  “It’s working!” Deborah said as she ran to answer. “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me,” James said. “Just calling to let you know all is well.”

  “Oh! Wonderful!” she cried, then waved at Evan and Mike. “Come here, come here. It’s James.”

  “Thank God,” Evan said as Mike took the phone.

  “Dad! Did you make it okay? What time did you get there? Is everything all right?”

  James grinned. As always, Mike wanted answers yesterday.

  “I’m fine now. Ran into a little trouble on the way down.”

  Mike frowned. “Like what?”

  “Ran into Darren Wilson. He got a shot off before I knew what was happening.”

  “He shot you?”

  “Yeah…in the side. Hardly more than a flesh wound. When I came to, I walked the rest of the way down. Everything is in place now. All the proper authorities have been notified, and as soon as weather permits, we’ll be up to get all of you off that damned mountain.”

  Mike suddenly felt sick to his stomach. His dad had been shot, lain unconscious in the snow, and it was obviously only by the grace of God, that he’d come to and gotten himself to help.

  “You need to rest and take care of yourself,” Mike said.

  James snorted lightly. “I slept good last night. I hear you guys got another dose of weather…sleet this time.”

  “Yeah, but we’re all okay.”

  “Good. Thorn is fine. Worried about all of you. Pay attention to what’s out there, son. It appears Wilson is dead-set on getting rid of his witnesses.”

  “What did the authorities do when you told them about the murder?”

  “Ran into a little doubt until the autopsy results. That lit all kinds of fires. I talked to a man named Burl Tackett early this morning. He’s with the state police. Anyway, he pulled strings and got the autopsy results yesterday, then put the wheels in motion.”

  “That’s great news,” Mike said. “Molly and Johnny should soon be safe.”

  “Not until we find Wilson,” James said.

  Daylight was a blessed event. After sliding off the mountain, the night Darren had just spent was something he never wanted to repeat.

  He had a gash in his head that hurt like hell and was wide enough to accommodate his forefinger. It needed stitches, but that wasn’t going to happen. At least the bleeding had stopped.

  He’d checked and rechecked his rifle so many times that he could probably break it down and put it back together in his sleep. He had four shots left, and now that it was light and he could see to maneuver, he thought about the task ahead. He knew what would happen if he failed. He couldn’t go to prison. He wouldn’t last a year in a place like that.

  Still, the concern was moot until he got himself out of this mess, and the first thing he had to do was get a little bit closer to the house.

  The presents were wrapped. Lunch had come and gone. The mood in the house was relaxed and easy.

  Mike was in the backyard knocking snow and ice off Deborah’s woodpile, and loading the wheelbarrow with a fresh supply of logs for the fire.

  Molly was sitting at the table, keeping Johnny company as he matched the dots on a set of dominoes.


  Evan had stepped into the pantry to get a couple of cans of vegetables to add to another soup in progress.

  Deborah was on the back porch skimming cream from the milk crock, while Puppy lay at her feet. She was trying to remember where she’d stored her mother’s large meat platter for tomorrow’s baked ham when a sharp pain pierced her right shoulder.

  “Ow!” she cried, and quickly set the cream pitcher down. She’d been holding it at an awkward angle and had obviously put her muscles in a bind.

  When the pain persisted, she finished skimming the cream and went inside, thinking maybe an analgesic rub would help.

  “The heat sure feels good,” Deborah said as she set the bucket and strainer in the sink to wash.

  Johnny angled two dominoes together and then grinned. “I matched double sixes,” he announced.

  “You sure did,” Molly said. “Can you find the double fours?”

  Johnny began shuffling through the pieces, mentally counting dots as he did.

  Deborah grinned. “Want to help me make pies later?”

  “Yeah!” he cried, and started putting up the dominoes.

  “Not just yet,” she said. “In a while.”

  “Okay.”

  “We’re having baked ham and all kinds of good stuff for dinner tomorrow,” she said. “How does that sound?”

  He looked up with a grin. “Yum.”

  “Yum it is,” she said.

  There was a flurry of scratching at the back door, which launched Johnny out of his chair.

  “It’s Puppy!” he cried. “I have to feed her ’cause I’m paying you back, remember?”

  “Paying her back for what?” Molly asked.

  “Can’t tell,” he said with a mischievous grin.

  “Ooh, secrets,” Molly said.

  Johnny glanced at Deborah, who winked. He blinked both eyes back at her in an effort to wink back. She stifled a laugh.