It was a long drive from Beaver to the Allegheny Forest, made less tedious by the changing scenery. The further north they travelled, the more rugged the terrain became. Hills became more numerous and closer together, and much steeper. Open fields and farms were replaced by large gray boulders and deep shade forest of elm, maple and pine. Sunlight shifted through the trees, dappling the highway in open spaces, other times touching only the crowns of the mountains.
It was beautiful, and stark, the kind of country where black bear still roamed, and whitetail deer were plentiful. Fox and bobcat, rabbits and squirrels far outnumbered their human neighbors. As Lara’s Buick approached the final turnoff, a fat porcupine waddled across the road in front of her car. She braked just enough to slow her speed and allow the jay-waddler to reach his destination without mishap.
It made her smile, and for the first time in weeks, she felt some of her stress melt away.
She’d made the right decision in coming here. They’d needed a break, a change of scene, and this getaway would put everything in perspective. Em was a genius for suggesting it. It was going to make all the difference for both of them.
The sign “Snowdrop Lane” swung in the fitful breeze. It was hand-painted, and Lara recognized Em’s handiwork right away. She made the right and drove the last five-hundred feet on a foot of unblemished snow.
By the time she put the car in park and turned off the engine, the sun was level with the snow bank across from the cabin. Slanting a golden-white through the gracefully drooping branches of a massive hemlock, it reflected off the unmarred surface of the snow and turned it instead to a field of glittering diamonds. With Eli safe in the back seat, Lara took the groceries from the back seat and carried them to the porch. Turning the key in the lock, she lit the oil furnace, and went back outside.
For a moment, she stood by the car, drinking in the beauty of the evening coming down, savoring the quiet. The only noise was a woodpecker, somewhere far off in the forest. The occasional bit of snow falling from a branch overhead. Everything was so clear. So still, that Lara thought if she listened hard enough, intently enough, she might hear the voice of God.
“All right, sweet pea. Let’s go in.”
That first night was balm to a troubled spirit. Lara made dinner of macaroni and cheese—Eli’s favorite, and then she set up his portable crib in the guest bedroom. It was smaller than the two other bedrooms, but she needed a lot less space for her and Eli than Em would need with her hubby Brian and their twins, Betsy and Robert.
The cabin had few amenities, besides electricity, furnace and running water. Hot water had to be heated on the electric range, and the toilet consisted of an outhouse and for midnight emergencies, an old-fashioned slop jar. There was an old rotary dial telephone, and a black and white TV with a tiny screen. Emily and her husband Brian enjoyed getting away from their hectic lives in the city. Roughing it was their thing.
Lara wasn’t as fond of being inconvenienced, but she loved the slower pace life took in the woods, and most of all, she loved the quiet. For several hours, she sat with a book in her lap, but she barely saw the words on the printed page. Instead, her attention kept returning to her little boy, who still sat, turning the snow globe in his hands.
His focus was laser-sharp. His purpose single-minded.
If left alone, he would remain lost in his own little world. If disturbed from whatever activity or object fascinated him, he would scream and bang his head. It took endless patience to get him to do the simplest things, like getting a bath, or combing his baby-fine hair. Mealtimes had to be fitted into his routine, because the routine could not be varied without turmoil.
Since his birth, Lara’s every waking moment had been fitted and conformed around him. What was best for him? How could she coax him into doing simple, necessary things? Too often, as she obsessed over some little detail, she forgot to brush her hair or change her clothes.
The fact that their lives had taken a backseat to a baby’s demands had been Michael’s biggest complaint. He’d wanted a wife, a lover, a partner. Not just the caretaker of his special needs son.
He and Lara hadn’t seen eye to eye on the importance of Eli’s needs.
Eli wasn’t just her son—he was her miracle.
She’d married Michael when she was twenty-four, and just finishing the first year of nursing school. His career was just getting off the ground, and they’d agreed to wait for a family. Twenty-four was young, and she’d really believed that they’d had all the time in the world to get pregnant. But as her thirtieth birthday approached, she found herself thinking about it more and more. If she’d known it would take six long years to conceive and carry to term, she might have started trying sooner.
Six heartbreaking years of fertility tests, and treatments, miscarriages and false positives. And then one day, little Eli came into their lives, with her blond hair and Michael’s blue-green eyes. She’d poured all of her hopes and dreams into the blanketed bundle the nurse had placed in her arms in the delivery room. It was the happiest moment of her entire life.
How could she look at him as anything less than perfect?
She took some wood from the wood box on the porch, and built a small fire in the fireplace. Outside the windows an indigo dusk was deepening, and a fine snow piled up on the windowpanes. Little Eli abandoned his snow globe for the window, and stood on the sofa, scooping a chubby finger at the powder beyond the glass again and again and again, mesmerized, yet unable to reach the snowflakes he loved.
After her chores were finished, and they were settled in for the night, Lara joined him at the window. The scene outside was so breathtakingly beautiful. The snow sat on the hemlock branches like thick white icing. The fine white snowflakes falling close to the window glittered in the lamplight like diamond dust. For the first time in many months Lara knew a sense of peace and contentment. A place where no bitter estranged husband, or well-meaning physician could intrude, no pressures to do anything but sit with her toddler and watch the snow falling.
“We made the right decision, coming here,” she said.
Eli still scooped at the glass.
“Look, baby,” Lara said. “S-snow. S-snow.” She watched his face for some change of expression, some indication he understood, but there was only the intense fascination in his eyes, and the constant scooping of his finger.
The next morning Lara woke to eight more inches on the ground, and it was still coming down. It was finer now, but falling steadily and it showed no sign of stopping. She turned on the radio, tuning into a local station, while she made coffee and prepared Eli’s breakfast of oatmeal and raisins. He liked milk, but no sugar, and the raisins had to be stirred into the oatmeal, not lying on top.
She blew on it in order to cool it, and waited for the commercial for a car dealership to end. The disk jockey came back on. “The National Weather Service has issued a winter storm watch for the following counties: Armstrong, Allegheny, Butler, Clarion, Cambria, and Indiana. Heavy bands of snow are expected to continue to move through this area throughout the day, ending sometime around midnight. Accumulations of eight to twelve inches are expected. More in the higher elevations.”
With breakfast concluded, Lara dressed Eli in warm clothes, put on his snowsuit, hat and gloves, and took him outside to play in the snow. For almost an hour he moved in circles, bending, scooping with his mittens, staring intently, and scooping again. While Eli played, Lara took the ancient broom with its slanting bristles and swept the porch, steps and sidewalk as far as the drive.
He was having so much fun that Lara hated to spoil it for him, but the cold was seeping through her parka, and she was ready for another hot cup of coffee. “Enough for now,” she said, reaching for him, but he made a noise of protest and quickly moved away. “Five more minutes, then. But that’s all.” She took the broom again, and started to dig her car out. She cleaned the snow off the roof and the doors and the windshield. It fell in great clumps, and little bright showers, coating
the legs of her jeans, and finding its way inside her boots. By the time she was finished, she was as white and as frozen as a snowman, and more than ready to go inside and thaw out. “Okay, sweetie, it’s time to go inside. We can come out later, but right now, Mama’s cold.”
She set aside the broom, propping it against a porch post, and turned to the spot where Eli had been playing a heartbeat ago. The snow was trampled in a large circle, and a trail of tiny footprints led away toward the back of the cabin, but Eli was gone.
Numb with cold and filled with desperation, Lara followed his footprints around the cabin and into the woods. Under the great pines, the snow was not as deep, the tiny boot prints not as clearly delineated. Trampled by deer and fox and other, larger animals seeking shelter from the storm, she suddenly lost all trace of her child’s passage. Panic filled her chest. She was breathless with it. “Eli!” she cried. “Eli! Oh, my God, Eli where are you?” She stumbled deeper into the forest, finding a tiny glove beside a shallow stream. She picked it up, hugging it to her. “This can’t be happening! My baby! Oh, God! My baby! Eli!”
Forest stretched out on all sides. The cabin was somewhere behind her, out of sight. The snow was still falling, blowing now to cover all traces of his passage. Overwhelmed by the enormity of her loss, Lara dropped to her knees in the snow and wept her heart out.
When she awakened sometime later, wind whipped around the eaves, whistling eerily. A fire burned brightly in an aged stone hearth, where a kettle steamed on a hook above the flames. She glanced around, taking in details. A worn, braided rug in shades of brown and blue, a rocker with a padded seat and sturdy wooden arms. She didn’t know where this was, but it wasn’t Em’s camp. As realization dawned, she remembered the snow, her panic, and Eli. “Oh, no!” she said, and sat up.
“It’s good that you’re awake.” The voice was soft and deep. A man’s voice. “Don’t start up too soon. You were thoroughly cold. No telling how long you lay out there before I found you. Best to give it a while.” He moved into her line of vision, pouring steaming liquid into a cup. “I made some tea. It’ll help to warm you.”
“You don’t understand,” Lara said, pushing his hand and the cup away. “My baby. He’s lost out there. He’ll freeze—oh, God. I have to go look for him!”
“I understand that you’re in no shape to look for anyone just yet,” he said. “Especially in this storm. We’re in the worst of it right now. It’s supposed to subside around midnight. That’s just two hours away.”
“Midnight? Oh, God. He’s only three. He can’t survive out there. He’ll freeze to death.” Her host was crouching near the blaze with his own cup of steaming tea. He was a big man, with skin as dark as a nut, and large dark eyes. A shadow of a beard shaded his cheeks and chin, and his jeans and red flannel shirt were torn and faded. A rough looking stranger with a kindly voice, gentler than she’d ever have expected coming from so brawny a man. “Can I use your phone? I need to call the police.”
“Don’t have a phone, Miss. Way out here, there ain’t no lines.”
“But I have to let them know my boy’s missing,” she said, then, remembered her cell phone tucked into her back pocket. She fished it out and touched the screen. The display came to life, informing her there was no signal. She struggled up, gaining her feet. “My jacket? Where’s my jacket?”
“Drying yonder,” her host said. He seemed only mildly concerned for all that she had told him, and she wondered how on earth he could avoid being alarmed that a child so young and helpless was lost in the woods. “It’s too wet to keep you warm.”
Lara shook her head. She was edging near hysteria. Eli was out there, perhaps lying in the snow. Maybe already dead. She couldn’t leave him. Couldn’t wait for her coat to dry so that she could be safe searching for him. She had to go now, and if he would not help her, then she would do it alone. “Look, Mister, you don’t understand. My son isn’t just any little boy. There’s so much he doesn’t understand, and he needs me. I have to find him. I have to!”
“All kids are special, Miss. They’re close to God when they’re young like that. Before the world gets a hold of ‘em and they forget where they come from. He’ll be all right, this boy of yours. You’ll see. Now, if you’ll just simmer down and drink this tea, I’ll go out myself and have a look around. Me and Juniper, over there’ll sniff him out.”
It was the first time Lara had noticed the bag of bones lying in the shadows beyond him. To say the dog was rangy would have been a gross understatement. It was hard to feel confident about this pair’s abilities. “Juniper doesn’t look very lively.”
“Maybe not, but he’s still got a nose on him.”
The dog didn’t stir from his place by the hearth. He didn’t move. He didn’t appear to breathe. He was still as death until his master reached out to rub his knobby head, and then he lifted up his head just enough to peer at Lara and let out a blood-chilling warbly howl.
This strange man still held the cup out to her. Fragrant steam rolled off the tea’s dark surface. “All right,” she said, willing to do anything if it meant he would look for Eli, “I’ll drink it. But can you please go now? I can’t bear the thought of him out there all alone.”
“We’re never alone,” he answered. “Not really. Wish I’d known that years ago. It’s a lesson time has taught me.” He stood to his full height and took a heavy woolen jacket from a peg by the fire. “If I’m to go out in that, I need to know you’ll be safe. It won’t do for me to find the young’un if his mama gets herself frozen wanderin’ around in the night.”
He showed no signs of leaving, and waited with an infinite patience for her to drink the tea he was forcing on her. “All right. All right! Whatever you say.”
“Samuel,” he said softly. “My name is Samuel.”
“Samuel,” Lara said. “Do you really think you can find him?”
“If he is out there, then me and Juniper’ll find him. In his day, he was a bona fide Grand Night Champion.”
Samuel was standing close enough for Lara to reach out and take his hand. It was solid and strong, warm from his close proximity to the fire. “Samuel. Thank you.”
Samuel went to the door, whistling once through his teeth, and Juniper leapt up and bounded after him.
Lara went as far as the window, watching as Samuel and the hound faded into the night, but she resisted the urge to follow. A promise was a promise, and though it made little sense, the simple, plainspoken man had instilled an unshakable confidence in her she was loath to let go of.
Still, she could not sit still. She paced the floor in front of the stone hearth, walking to the window again and again to peer out at a snowy void.
This was her fault. She shouldn’t have left home, and she certainly shouldn’t have taken her eyes off of Eli. Not even for a split-second.
What if he was lost forever?
What if Samuel couldn’t find him?
How would she live with herself?
All of the doubts and self-recriminations wore her out, sapping what little energy she had left after her ordeal. She finally sat in Samuel’s old rocker, cradling her cooling cup of tea between her palms. She sipped it slowly. It was very sweet—flavored with clover honey—and delicious. And just what she needed.
When the cup was empty, she rested her head against the rocker’s backboard and whispered a fervent prayer for Samuel’s success and Eli’s safety.
It was well after one in the morning when the cabin door opened and Samuel walked in. Lara had been dozing off and on, watching the flames burn low, and praying. When she heard the lifting of the latch, she glanced up. The rough-cut woodsman was covered with snow, as was Juniper, who shook the cold from his speckled coat and flopped back down by the fire. Samuel opened his coat and deposited a sleeping Eli onto her lap. His baby cheeks were pink from the cold, but he was sleeping peacefully.
Lara touched his face, his hands, making sure he was really safe. Then, tears in her eyes, she looked up at Samuel. “Where
was he?”
“Found himself a den tree. Guess he must’ve had enough of the cold, and he curled inside and fell asleep, sheltered from the storm.”
Lara pressed her cheek to Eli’s. His skin was warm from sleep. Drowsy, still, he was more pliant, less resistant to touch than when he was awake. She held him close and kissed his brow. Brushed back his baby-fine hair. “Thank you, Samuel. Thank you.”
Lara woke the next morning in total panic. She was still seated in the rocker, but Eli was gone, and so were Samuel and his ancient hound. She threw on her boots and jacket and headed for the door, but when she jerked it open, she met Samuel and Eli coming in. Samuel had the boy on one arm. “Morning, Miss. This child loves the snow. He surely does. Not too talkative, but he gets his point across.” He went to the table, and plunked the baby down on a chair. “I think we’re ready for some breakfast. Are you hungry, Miss?”
“It’s Lara, and yes, I am a little hungry.”
“Being out in the cold does that. Body needs fuel to make heat. The little man, here, I bet he’s hungry, too.”
Amazingly, Eli slid off the chair, but instead of running to the window, he went to Samuel. He stood by the big man’s knee, pointing up at him with one baby finger. His gaze was intent upon Samuel’s face. Lara could barely believe what she was seeing. “Eli?”
Eli turned to look at her. “Eli? Oh, my God! Did you see that? He looked at me!” She ran to him and scooped him up, overwhelmed by a swirling mixture of emotions. Love and wonder, hope and fear that this miraculous change would be nothing more than a fluke—gone in an instant.
“S-S-Samuel,” she said, holding his gaze longer than she’d ever dreamt of doing.
Eli looked at her mouth and lifted a finger to explore her lips and teeth as toddlers often do. Lara’s heart stood still. “S-s-s-s-” he said.
“Well, would you look at that? I do believe the little fellow likes me.”
The Snowstorm Page 2
