by Joanne Fluke
“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 Ja
ne 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.”
“I’ll think about it,” Marian agreed. “It all depends on Dan. I don’t like to leave him alone for long. And I know he won’t go with me.”
“Got the perfect solution for you.” Sally wiped her hands on a towel. “Ronnie doesn’t like to stay home alone, either, and Jenny’s spending the night at her cousin’s house. Why don’t we lay in a supply of beer at your house and set the guys up playing cards? Then we can go and enjoy ourselves.”
“Well . . . maybe.” Marian took a sip of coffee and tried to look pleased. She didn’t think she was up to any party, but she didn’t want to say so.
Sally crossed to the table and sat down facing her. “I get the feeling there’s something you’re holding back.”
There was no way Marian could resist the sympathetic look on Sally’s face. She had to take a chance and ask Sally. Sally wouldn’t betray her.
“Sally . . .” Marian cleared her throat. “Do you . . . I know this is personal, but . . . do you believe in life after death?”
“Yes.” Sally nodded emphatically. “I didn’t believe before, but I do now. Do you want to know what changed my mind, Marian?”
Marian felt a lump in her throat, and she swallowed hard. She was too anxious to speak, so she nodded.
“My mom died right after Ronnie and I were married. I still remember how I felt, Marian. It was awful. I loved her so much, I almost wanted to die myself. First I felt terrified. I was numb all over. I couldn’t believe she was gone. I’d go to the phone to dial her number, and remember, and then I’d cry all over again. Ronnie tried to help, but that was when he was in the service. He was only home on leave for two weeks. Then he had to go back, and I was alone, really alone, for the first time in my life.”
“Sally . . . don’t!” Marian felt the tears gather in her eyes. “You don’t have to talk about it, Sally, really you don’t.”
“No, I want to. I want to because it was all right after awhile. I remember one morning I was sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window, wondering what to give my dad for his birthday, and I heard Mom say, Handkerchiefs, honey. Your father always wanted monogrammed handkerchiefs, and I never got around to buying them. That was when I started believing, Marian, and I’ve believed ever since. Even now, when I’ve got a problem, I talk to Mom. And she’s always there, right inside my head, giving me advice and loving me.”
“Thanks, Sally.” Marian spoke past the lump in her throat. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Well . . .” Sally cleared her throat and got up. “More coffee, Marian? I have a feeling the guys’ll be tied up for quite a while. Ronnie’s got a captive audience, and he’s going to take full advantage of it.”
Ronnie had gone to start the van, and then he would come back to wheel him out. Dan sat stiff and straight in his chair. Ronnie was being nice, but Dan couldn’t help but resent this whole evening. Ronnie had wheeled him around like an invalid, and that had made him feel even more helpless. Now Ronnie was starting the van. What kind of man was he if he couldn’t even start his own damn car?
There was a sound from the living room, and Dan turned his head to see. Jenny was stretched out in front of the TV, Muffy beside her. She was laughing at some program, stroking Muffy’s head absently with her hand. It made him sick to see Muffy and Jenny together. Muffy was Laura’s dog! Laura should have been there petting Muffy, and instead it was Jenny. Jenny was the lucky one. Jenny was still alive. If he had the power, he would have changed things. Jenny would be gone, and Laura would be here, happy, alive, laughing at the program on television.
Shame made him wince. It wasn’t right to think this way. Jenny was a nice little girl. He liked Jenny. But Laura was his.
“All right, let’s go!” Ronnie came in the front door with a bang and took his place behind Dan’s chair. “Marian’ll be out in a second. Sally’s wrapping up a couple of fruitcakes for her.”
The cold was chilling as Ronnie pushed him down the shoveled walk and out to the driveway. Dan felt cold all over, now that he knew the truth. He wasn’t fit to socialize with anyone. He resented Sally and Ronnie, their closeness as a family. Watching them hurt too much. If this kept up, he’d hate all the happy people, and that was sick. He was much better off staying by himself with only his painful thoughts for company.
Muffy was stretched out on the rug when Marian walked through the living room. The little dog turned to stare at her with sorrowful eyes.
“It’ll be all right, Muffy.” Marian reached down to pat her soft golden hair. “You be a good girl now and play with Jenny.”
Muffy’s pink tongue came out to lick Marian’s hand. There were tears in Marian’s eyes as she let herself out the front door and hurried to the van. She felt as if she’d left a part of Laura here at the Powells’. But soon things would be better. Sally had helped. Now she had new hope. It was all just a matter of time.
Sally watched the van pull down the driveway until it turned at the road. She was worried about Marian. There was something wrong, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Marian had changed, and it frightened her. Of course, she had expected that Marian would be subdued and sad. That was normal. But now there was something about Marian that made Sally desperately uneasy.
Sally stood at the kitchen window and looked out over the snowbanks. Jenny’s snowman was near the edge of the driveway, looking comically disreputable. How would she feel if Jenny were dead? The very thought was so painful that Sally winced.
How about Ronnie? What if he were paralyzed? Sally shivered in the warm kitchen. What would she do? How would she cope, knowing that her husband was confined to a wheelchair?
There was no answer for that. Even though she tried, it was impossible to put herself in Marian’s place. She was sure she’d go crazy without Jenny. And if Ronnie were an invalid, she’d break down for sure. She wouldn’t even have the strength to pretend. She’d curl up in a ball and hide from reality.
Maybe that’s what’s happening to Marian. Sally gasped as it hit her. Marian could be having a nervous breakdown, and no one would know. There were people who went quietly crazy, and no one knew about it for years, until they did something horrible.
“Did Marian have a good time?”
Sally whirled to see Ronnie standing in the doorway. Without a word she ran across the kitchen and flung herself into his arms.
“Hey!” Ronnie hugged her and stepped back to look at her face. “What got into you?”
“I . . . I’m just glad I’m me.” Sally’s lower lip trembled. “And I’m glad I have you and Jenny to love.”
“Well, good.” Ronnie placed a kiss on her lips. “Hey, Sal . . . are you going to let me go back to work?”
“No.” Sally hung on fiercely “I think you’re all through for the night. Let’s go to bed.”
“I think I like this.” Ronnie grinned at her and flicked off the kitchen light. “Maybe you ought to bake fruitcakes more often.”
CHAPTER 4
Both of them were glad to get home. Marian took care of Dan first. When he was comfortable and settled in bed, she took her shower and got into her robe and slippers. They could have French toast for breakfast. That was easy. Marian opened the refrigerator door to make sure they had eggs and milk.
The sight of a ham bone, carefully wrapped in plastic, made tears roll down Marian’s cheeks. Muffy was gone.
She didn’t want Dan to know she’d been crying. Marian t
urned off the light before she got into bed. She tried to sound cheerful as she said good night.
There was a quaver in Marian’s voice, and Dan pulled her close. He knew what was wrong. He missed Muffy, too.
“Don’t feel bad, honey. Muffy’s better off at the farm.”
“I know.” Marian drew a deep breath. “But, Dan . . . it’s almost like losing Laura all over again.”
“Don’t look at it that way, honey. Muffy’s happy now. And that’s the way we have to feel about Laura. We miss her, but we’ve got to believe she’s happier and better off in another place.”
“Yes . . . I suppose so.” Marian’s voice was sad. “I think I’ll go out to the living room and read for a while. I’m too wound up to sleep.”
Dan knew she shouldn’t be alone. He pulled himself up in bed and switched on the light.
“Stay here, Marian. I’ll read too. Find me a good book, and we’ll keep each other company.”
“How about that mystery I read last month?” Marian got out of bed and pulled a book off the bookshelf. “I’m through with it.”
“That’s fine. Do we have any snacks, honey? I’m a little hungry.”
“Just the fruitcake Sally sent, but that has to age until Christmas.” Marian frowned. “I’m sorry, Dan. I meant to go to the store this morning, and I forgot.”
“It doesn’t matter, honey. I’m really not that hungry.” Dan could have kicked himself for saying anything. He could tell that Marian was feeling guilty for not doing the shopping.
He took the book Marian handed him and flipped through it. A piece of ruled notepaper fluttered to the bed.
“Hey . . . what’s this?” Dan picked up the paper and glanced at it. “How about this, Marian? It’s a note from Laura.”
Without thinking, he handed it to Marian. Another mistake. Laura’s note might make Marian feel even worse.
“It says, ‘Mommy, I love you.’” Marian smiled down at Dan. “She must have put it in my book to surprise me. Isn’t that sweet?”
