Snow Pictures

by Kevin Deeny

  She smiled and replied, “You’re welcome but, we could use a little noise and chaos around here from time to time.”

  He reached to shake her hand, and she clasped his hand in both of hers. He raised his eyebrows at her touch and said, “Ah, your hands are warm Sister, the sure sign of a warm heart.”

  She chuckled and replied, “God save us; another Irishman who’s kissed the Blarney Stone.”

  Marcus laughed out loud and replied, “I can admit to being half Irish. Thank-you again Sister” as he opened the door and stepped into the night.

  She nodded her reply with a smile, closed the door and set the latch. As she turned to make her way to the altar, she added, “Good night and be well Marcus, my son.”

  As Marcus approached his car, he looked back and felt that something was amiss and he realized that he didn’t sense the nun’s name. When he recalled her warm hands, he thought, “I wonder if she is like me?” He hoped she would be there when he got a chance to come back with his cameras.

  Chapter 38

  Down the Mountain

  Roads were made for journeys, not destinations. – Confucius

  He arrived at the community center with the elderly nun still on his mind. He removed his coat and settled into a chair near the front of the room. He was a few minutes early after all and watched as people filed in, shook hands with each other and joined in conversations about their children and grandchildren as most senior citizens seemed to do. Marcus grew a little melancholy as he overheard their conversations; he and Rosalind had no children of their own and, having come from a large family, it left him feeling incomplete. He would never know the joys of which these people spoke, he thought, as he waited for the meeting to begin.

  In the back of the room, an elderly couple pushed a younger woman in a wheelchair with them as they entered and looked around for a spot where they could place the wheelchair and have two nearby seats for themselves. The woman in charge of the meeting saw them looking around and spoke to a man next to her who rearranged chairs in the front of the assembly to accommodate them. Marcus was immediately drawn to the woman in the wheelchair in much the same way as he was to Robert long ago. He immediately ‘knew’ her as Caroline and was aware that she had been confined to a wheelchair nearly all of her life. She had lived well beyond the years predicted by her doctors at birth and had been the focus of her parents caring all of her life. Marcus noticed that her head bobbed down and her chin rested on her chest as discussions took place around her. Her mother would jostle her occasionally to elicit a response to her surroundings. Beyond a few unintelligible utterances, Caroline showed no other sign of being aware.

  After the meeting preliminaries were taken care of, Marcus was introduced, and he spoke to the group about the practice of focused intention. He was pleased to see a lot of heads nodding as he spoke and the questions he received afterward clearly indicated that many already had some knowledge of the process and had been using it. Given the general concern about the weather, the Q&A session was foreshortened to allow people to get an early start toward home. As Marcus prepared to leave, he walked over to Caroline’s parents and asked, “How is Caroline today?”

  The Millers looked at each other with surprise that he knew their daughter. Mrs. Miller replied, “She is much the same. We hoped to use the method you described to see if it could bring some comfort to her, but it doesn’t seem to be something that she could do herself. We’re not sure she could form the intention that seems to be necessary.”

  Marcus acknowledged their concern and suggested, “Perhaps you can modify the approach somewhat. When either one of you or both focus your intention, take one of Caroline’s hands in yours and as you visualize the golden energy flowing through you, extend it to Caroline and see if it will flow through you to her.”

  Marcus then looked at Caroline more closely. He turned to her parents with his hands outstretched toward Caroline and said, “Would you mind if I take her hands?”

  “No, please go right ahead,” Mrs. Miller replied as she looked at her husband who also nodded his agreement.

  Marcus closed his eyes, took a calming breath and clasped both of Caroline’s hands in his. He immediately found himself on a sidewalk in front of a block of row homes where a little girl was happily playing hopscotch. “Hello Caroline, how are you?” he asked in greeting.

  She paused her play and looked at him and smiled “I’m fine Mr. Marcus. Have you come for me?” she asked.

  “Yes, Caroline, if you’re ready.”

  “I think I’m ready now,” she said as she walked toward him.

  Marcus reached out and took Caroline’s hands, and they both began to sense the meeting room with distant conversations and the scuffling of chairs as people were preparing to leave. Marcus opened his eyes and looked deeply into Caroline’s eyes as she sat in her wheelchair. “Ah there you are,” he said as her eyes focused on his.

  He turned to her parents and reiterated that they should try the approach as he described it and added that when she was able, they teach her to do it for herself. He gave Caroline a hug, gathered his coat and pulled it on as he walked to the parking lot and brushed the snow off his car.

  It had been a long day, and he was grateful when the meeting broke up early. It had just begun to snow, the first of the season, and he was already looking forward to getting out after the storm to take snow pictures. He was thankful that he drove his Jeep to the meeting because the road down the mountain was likely to get a little dicey before there was enough snow to bring out the plows.

  He always worried about driving during the first snow of the year, not for himself, but for other drivers who seemed to suffer from snow amnesia every year. They drove too fast, cornered too hard and braked when they shouldn’t. He was confident that the body shops would have a lot of work to carry them through the winter.

  He pulled out of the lot and followed another car as the road climbed. Blue Mountain is not massive as mountains go, it’s part of the Appalachian chain of old weathered mountains that traverse Pennsylvania. Yet it was formidable enough for the civil engineers designing the Pennsylvania Turnpike to tunnel through it rather than go over it. Still, many local roads pass over the mountain to the valleys below. Marcus followed the vintage Camaro over one such route. When he got close enough to make out some of the details of the car ahead, he winced. It was an older Camaro, he noticed, with dual exhaust that rumbled with the sound of a V-8 that was packing a lot of horsepower. He thought to himself that a lot of power in a passenger car doesn’t help you much in snow. Marcus backed away and put more distance between him and the Camaro as they neared the top.

  The snow had become heavier and obscured the guidelines painted on the road surface. Marcus was familiar with the road, had traveled it many times and he sought out the mile markers, road signs and guardrail reflectors that he knew he could use to help him keep to his lane. There were no street lamps and, other than the glow of the Camaro’s tail lights ahead and his own headlights, it was pitch black on the mountain. Marcus downshifted to keep his speed at a minimum without using his brakes, and he felt the slope of the roadway turn down toward the valley. He followed the swath of light created by his headlights and looked out for markers.

  About a third of the way downslope, with his engine whining for a higher gear, he saw the now distant Camaro’s tail lights wink and then vanish altogether. “Damn” he whispered to himself and hit the button for the emergency flashers. He saw the tracks of the Camaro wiggle and then radically skew toward a turnoff onto what he knew to be a gravel road leading to a summer camp. However, the tracks didn’t follow the gravel road but careened off into the wooded area and down the embankment. He pulled off the road, reached for his cell phone, and prayed that he had a signal as he dialed 911. He got through to a dispatcher and relayed the location. He then grabbed his flashlight, spiked a flare at the turnoff, and set off through the brush
following the tracks and debris.

  He saw the car downslope about 10 feet below; dense trees had stopped it from rolling further. It was laying on its side, propped up against a pine tree. He could see the undercarriage as he approached and noted that it was the driver’s side that the car had settled on. Oddly, a turn signal was blinking, and more ominously, there was a strong smell of gasoline. Something continued to hum under the hood, and he wondered if it was an add-on electric fuel pump. He came around the front of the car and looked through the fractured windshield and saw the long blond hair of a woman who was frantically struggling to free herself. As he got closer, he saw that her face was bathed in blood and he heard her pleas for help that were almost incoherent.

  He paused to take a deep breath and knelt down to the windshield so that he could be seen and said, “Julie, I’m here to help.” She didn’t hear him at first and continued to struggle, so he raised his voice and almost shouted “Julie, stop screaming. I’m here to help.”

  Julie whimpered, “I smell gas. I have to get out of here.”

  “I smell it too. Help is on the way, but what I want you to do if you can, is to switch the ignition off and pull the key out.”

  She grew agitated again and screamed, “Why? The engine isn’t running. I need to get out.”

  Marcus replied forcefully, “Julie, the electrical system is still on, and I don’t want an electrical spark to ignite the fuel. Please turn the ignition off if you can and remove the key.”

  Her eyes grew wide in near panic, but she was able to reach the ignition, turn it off and remove the key. When she had done so, the hum beneath the hood stopped. Marcus looked across the hood and confirmed that the turn signal had also stopped blinking. “Good job,” he relayed back to her. “Now tell me if you are physically trapped or if you can work your way out of the seat.”

  “The seat has my right leg jammed under the dashboard. I can’t move it and can hardly feel it.”

  He heard sirens in the distance as responders were making their way up the mountain and decided that before he tried to remove her, it would be best to wait for them as long as Julie was stable. “Ok Julie, we don’t want to do any more harm to your leg if you’re jammed in there. I hear the sirens coming, and we’ll have help soon. Hang in there; I’ll be right here with you.”

  She started to cry again, but not from pain. “Oh, my husband is going to kill me for wrecking his car. Oh God, why do I have to screw everything up?”

  “Julie, even a ’68 Camaro is still just a bunch of nuts, bolts, and sheet metal that can be replaced. Your husband can build another one. You need to focus on you right now so that you can get home to your daughter and your husband.”

  Julie had grown quiet, and he could see her shivering through the windshield, and he worried that she could be going into shock. He stood and moved to the back of the car and was pleased to see that the trunk was sprung open. Marcus rummaged around and found a tire iron and quickly returned to the front of the vehicle. He wedged the tire iron into a gap between the windshield and the frame and pulled and pried until he broke the windshield free. He stripped off his coat, crawled in, and wrapped it around Julie who had lost consciousness. He placed a hand on her right hip and another on her left shoulder and pushed energy in as fast as she could take it. He watched her face intently by the light of his flashlight as it pinked up. He felt her pulse strengthen under his hand and he sighed in relief. He was holding her hand when she blinked back into consciousness. “Your hand is warm,” she whispered groggily.

  He smiled at her, “I guess that comes in handy sometimes.” He strained as he listened to the sounds of the gathering rescue crew and said “Shhhh, help is here now. Think about a warm beach with your daughter playing in the sand by your side. They will have you out of here in no time.” He waited with her, holding her hand, and telling her about warm sandy beaches in faraway places that she could visit someday.

  A fireman arrived, and Marcus briefed him on as much as he knew. He told him that an EMT would be needed to deal with the effects of blood loss and shock. The fireman spoke into the mic clipped to his shoulder strap while a second fireman used a rope to secure the car to the tree to prevent it from tipping over as they worked. Marcus continued to hold Julie’s hand until he had to get out of the way to allow the EMT to do his job.

  He slowly clawed his way through the trees back up the slope. He realized that he was cold without his coat and sought the warmth of his car as he waited for Julie to be transported. It took them nearly 30 minutes to free her from the wreckage. He watched as Julie was carried up the embankment in a stretcher and carefully placed in the ambulance for the trip down the mountain. As the ambulance pulled away, Marcus waved goodbye to the crew chief and followed the tail lights into the falling snow.

  It was nearly midnight when he got home. He stripped out of his clothes that smelled of mud and gasoline and headed directly to the shower. He was tired, sore, and feeling his age. He lingered in the flow of hot water until he was fully warmed and the tension in his muscles had relaxed. He dried and walked naked to the bedroom and slipped exhausted between the sheets.

  As was their habit every night, he reached over and held Rosalind’s hand for a moment. As he was drifting off into much-appreciated sleep, he found himself on Blue Mountain in the spring looking on to a distant valley that looked so familiar.

  He woke to the familiar aroma of coffee and bright early morning light streaming through the bedroom windows. He rose, dressed, and then went to the window to look at the new blanket of snow that covered everything. Sunlight glistened from the specular snow crystals and the long rays of morning light cast shadows across the white snow blanket that appealed to his photographic sense. He was anxious to get out with his cameras.

  Rosalind was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee at her side and a newspaper in her hands. She smiled at him over the paper as he walked to the coffee pot. “I see you were busy last night,” she said as she tapped with her finger on the newspaper article she was reading.

  “Yeah, it was a little late when I got in. I’m surprised it made it into the paper already. Does it say if Julie is Ok?”

  Rosalind looked back at the article and replied, “She’s in stable condition and expected to fully recover.”

  “Good, she was pretty frightened, and I was worried about her leg.” He sat at the table and filled Rosalind in with all of the details. “And by the time I climbed back up the embankment, I was dragging my butt. I think I’m a little old for that stuff, but I just couldn’t drive by.”

  Rosalind well knew that it was not in his nature to just drive by. They had breakfast together, and Marcus hurried to pack his camera gear into his backpack. He kissed her as he readied to leave and asked, “Could you get John’s son to shovel the walk and driveway for me; I’m not sure how long I’ll be up by the lake?”

  “Of course,” she replied and waved him out the door. She watched him as he trundled through the snow to his car, knocked the snow from his boots before he swiveled in and started the car. He waved as he put the Jeep in reverse and pulled from the driveway. She watched until he turned the corner and was lost from sight, then picked up the phone to check in with the clinic to see if anyone had made it in yet. She expected at least a few snowball fight and sledding injuries with every first snowfall – and heart attacks from shoveling snow. She was glad that Marcus left this task for a younger man today.

  Chapter 39

  Discovery

  [Present Day]

  Your deeds are your monuments. – inscription on an Egyptian tomb.

  Dan Stiles maneuvered his 4x4 through the unplowed roadways that wound their way through the state park. It had been a long day. His regular patrol rounds took a lot more time in the snow, and he stopped to help pull two cars back onto the roadway and gave another fellow a jump. Thankfully, his shift was almost over. As he pulled onto the acc
ess road for the grove, he saw that the white Jeep was still there. He noticed it in the morning, but he hadn’t gotten back this way for several hours. He pulled up behind the Jeep and saw the driver sitting behind the wheel. He approached cautiously and peered into the back seat as he neared the driver’s door. Cameras. “Why is this guy still here? It’s almost dark”, he thought to himself. He tapped on the glass with his flashlight and didn’t get a response. He bent down to get a closer look and gazed into the face of the lifeless man. “Shit!” he said as he reached for the microphone clipped to his uniform.

  Chapter 40

  What Comes After

  Mourne not, the traveler who passed beyond the horizon; wonders await. – K. Deeny

  Rosalind sat at the kitchen table looking blankly out the windows until she rose, pulled on a coat and stepped out to the porch. She warmed her hands with her coffee cup and sat in a chair that was heated by the slanting rays of the sun. The snow was almost gone. She looked beyond to Blue Mountain without really seeing it. She thought about the life she and Marcus had constructed and was amazed at the distance they had come together – not in miles, but in understanding. Her only lament was that they were unable to have children. “God knows we tried,” she thought to herself. Without a family of their own, it was their friends and work that kept them engaged in life.

  Marcus had not wanted a religious memorial service of any kind. He said many times during his life that “No one stands between God and me,” and he neither needed nor wanted anyone to attempt to define his relationship to God. Marcus would handle that himself, even in death. She had no doubt that he had his list of questions that he would ask God as soon as he saw her. She laughed at the thought of it. This afternoon, friends would gather at the house to express condolences and share their remembrances. She hoped there would be laughter because Marcus was not somber about death; he knew it as a passage to peace.