CHAPTER TWELVE

 

 

The snow swirled gently against a backdrop of vibrant blinking lights on Maple Street. Stiff plastic Rudolphs and enormous inflatable Frostys grinned from their frozen posts. I drove carefully and caught movement through the picture window in the first home. Two of my neighbor kids sat in their front room and waved. They laughed and mimed honking a horn. I complied, piercing the peaceful quiet with a toot.

I passed a battered light-colored Jetta and a flashy dark-colored car. I sighed. I missed my Jetta, but it lost its battle for road king in the collision. Vehicles were not safe with me.

And then I smiled. Happy lights shined from each of Miss Grace’s windows, the sign of a festive holiday gathering. The overflow of cars spilled from her driveway and lined both sides of the street. I passed by slowly.

I waved at our neighbor, Adam Farley. His quilted down jacket fit him snugly, and so did his adorable daughter and striking wife. The hulk of a man dragged a long wooden toboggan, following the indentation of a circle in his front yard. Pamela cushioned their three-year-old daughter between her legs and arms, and even with my windows rolled up, I heard Emma’s squeal of glee.

I parked the car and headed up the walk. Flakes sifted onto my face, and I sniffed the brisk cold. The temperature leeched warmth from my fingers, toes, and nose and I hurried inside. When I opened the door, Maverick knocked me out of the way as he raced into the yard. He did his business and then trotted back in through the doggie door.

He stood on his hind legs and licked my face. “Happy to see me?” I swallowed hard, remembering when I tried to find him a different home, but he’d saved my life in more ways than one. I squeezed him with love and set him down on four paws.

“Off,” I said in my teacher voice. My stomach growled.

Then he gamboled toward the cupboard where I kept his food, bounding back and forth. He pawed at the knob and melted my resolve with the head tilt.

If he could talk, he’d say, You’re late, and he’d tell me his stomach growled too. He orbited his dish as I poured his kibble and it disappeared before I finished hanging my coat.

“Dad,” I called.

I tossed my briefcase onto the circular wrought iron table at the base of the stairs and flipped the living room light switch I passed on my way to Dad’s room. I knocked. His door swung open. Maverick pranced into the empty space and jumped onto the bed, circled twice, and laid down.

“Don’t bat your baby brown eyes at me, big boy. I don’t think Dad would like you making yourself comfortable, but then again, maybe you do this all day long when I’m not here. Any idea where he’s off too?” This place screamed in silence.

I wandered through the apartment, tripping on an extension cord in the living room. One end snaked up our small Christmas tree, the other lay feet from the power outlet. I plugged it in then flinched through the full three-minute cacophony from the noisemaking, mechanical-talking, and animated electric-powered ornaments. Almost every evening, the fireplace in the living room boasted red, orange, and yellow flames. Dad loved his fires. When I spread my nightly homework out on the coffee table, he’d sit next to the fire and watch me from his new brown-leather recliner, usually reading the inside of his eyelids. Tonight, I missed the crackle and the smoky wood scent

The cold stove and colder oven didn’t bode well for a home-cooked meal either. I’d grown accustomed to Dad’s menu of grilled cheese, even when it was black on one side; bacon, though it could often be used as a shingle on a doll’s house; and waffles, which, slathered in butter and thick maple syrup tasted mighty fine. He tried new recipes and when he felt confident in the outcome, he’d invite Ida for dinner. Most evenings, however, Dad rewarmed something Ida had dropped off because she made too much, or she’d bring supper saying she required guinea pigs to taste some new concoction. I opened the refrigerator and recoiled. I tossed the wilted bowl of greens, swimming in a brown liquid and rinsed the bowl. I grabbed an apple from the fruit basket and tossed it in the air; it almost hit the linoleum when Maverick let loose a loud bark.

“What is it boy?” I knelt next to him and scratched his chest as I slid the curtain on the living room window to the side. A figure passed by our driveway and slipped around the corner of the house. I rubbed between Maverick’s ears. He closed his eyes and leaned closer to get a deeper scratch. “Good boy.” I reached onto the counter for his favorite treat and hugged him. He scarfed it down and I almost lost a finger.

When I called Dad’s cell, it rang from his room. Elizabeth didn’t call him a Luddite for nothing. Her job required computer skills and she embraced it. He eschewed technology. I flopped on the couch and examined my phone screen.

I called Ida’s phone. It went to voicemail. Then my mind did a somersault, and I felt the terror again, returning to this house as two EMTs carted Dad out on a gurney with an oxygen mask over his pale face. I hadn’t even been able to talk to him. They’d taken him to the hospital by ambulance. It turned out he’d been extremely dehydrated, and they could fix that.

My heart raced. I located a name on my phone but hesitated before pressing the call button. Fear got the better of me.

“Columbia Hospital ER. How may I direct your call?”

“Dr. Pete Erickson.”

“May I tell him who’s calling?”

“Katie Wilk.”

“One moment please.”

Maverick’s tail thumped as we waited.

“Katie?” My heart gave an embarrassed flutter. “How are you?” he asked.

“Pete, I can’t find Dad and I’m worried. Neither he nor Ida are answering their phones and I wanted to find out if he—”

“I’ve been on since three and I’ve seen neither hide nor hair of either one. Let me check admissions.” Keys clacked under rapid fingers. “They aren’t here.”

“Thank you.”

“I can’t tell you where they are, but I’ll keep watch.” He became quiet. “How are you?” he asked again.

Asking twice he must have intended me to answer. We could still be friends. He’d answered my question about Dad. The least I could do was answer his. “I’m good. You?”

“Everything’s great.”

I mustered my courage and added politely, “Susie?”

“She’s good. Good,” he repeated. “Grace told me she and Ida had words, but don’t worry, they’ll get over it.”

“I think they already have.”

“Watch out for them, okay? I’ve always known them as two obstinate, eccentric, artistic women. When they met at music contests, recitals, or other performance venues they tolerated each other, but I think it started out with a little more—” A beeper sounded. “Sorry, Katie. Gotta go.”

No Dad. No Ida.

If Maverick hadn’t laid his weighty head on my knee and nudged me, I might have worried more. The fingers of my left hand crawled through his fur and my right hand corrected papers and recorded the scores in my gradebook until the cuckoo clock struck nine. Each peep encroached farther in on my thoughts.

At nine seventeen, Dad and Ida tripped into the living room, giddy.

My ears felt hot, and I’m sure my cheeks glowed pink.

“Katie,” Ida sang.

Dad read my face and untangled himself from his long, brown knit scarf, an early Christmas present from Ida. He aimed her out the door. “Good night, dear lady.”

She shrugged her shoulders and staggered back the way she’d come.

“Where’ve you been?” It came out much more like an accusation than I’d planned.

“Grace had company. Ida had cookies. I had beer and plenty of it.” He stated and hiccupped. His coat buttons were giving him trouble.

“Here, let me help.” I relented and reached for the middle button and wrinkled my nose. “That smell of liquor is circling you like dirt around Pig Pen.” I filtered the odor and breathed through my sleeve.

“You were worried about me,” he said as he fell out of his coat.

“Yes, and I was worried about Ida too. You could have left a message, written a note, something, let me know what’s going on.”

“Grace invited us over."

My phone rang and I turned to answer. “Hello.”

“Did you find them?” he said in a rush.

“Yes. They just walked in.”

“Thank heavens,” Pete sighed. “They’ve sent our EMTs out on a call at the site of a five-car pileup and I pictured them getting caught up in the melee. Be safe.” He hung up.

“Well, what have you got to say for yourself?”

“The tables have turned. I believe I’ve asked you the same thing on many occasions. I’m a grown man, perfectly capable of making my own decisions and taking responsibility for my actions. But if you need to know, Grace’s great-nephew or something has come for a visit, and we went over to meet him. Grace held a cocktail party, and it was a doozy. Her backyard looked just like ours until she turned on thousands of dazzling white and yellow lights. It’s a fairy garden. Now, if I may please be excused.”

I tried to hide my tears by wiping my cheeks and the tip of my nose before I snuffled, but he knew me too well.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, darlin’. I should have let you know, but we never planned on staying. I didn’t even bring my phone. Ida said she’d never go empty handed during the holidays, so we delivered a bottle of wine and a plate of Christmas cutouts and Grace hauled us inside. Truth be told, I don’t think she wanted to be alone with this kid. She’d never met him before. Must be about forty now. Pam and Adam were taking Emma home to bed when we arrived, and CJ and Carlee stopped by but never removed their coats. They said to say hi, by the way.”

Dad put his arm around my shoulders.

“I thought something happened to you.” Might as well let everything hang out. I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes.

“Why would you think that?”

I inhaled sharply and faced him, about to remind him of the last time I chased an ambulance headed to the ER with him inside, strapped to a gurney.

“Oh,” he said, as the memory dawned on him. “Sorry, darlin’.”

I hugged him until he prodded my shoulders to get a little space between us.

“We won’t go anywhere else.” Dad yawned. “Scratch that. Jordan invited us for supper tomorrow. He’s going to grill. Can you make it?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. But my students are trying to place a geocache in the Titanic exhibit and we’re putting together a presentation for the director.”

“I bought you a little something you should use if you continue to walk Maverick when it’s not light. It’s in the brown paper packaging under the tree.” He yawned. “I’m going to get some shut eye and you should too.”

His door closed with a firm click and then I remembered Jane’s trouble. I’d have to start making notes if I wanted to keep Dad apprised and not have my words come back and bite me.

The ribbons and bows on the packages beneath the tree gleamed in the sparkly lights on all but one. The label read, “To My Darlin’ and Her Boy.” Inside was a two-appendage reflective vest, a four-appendage reflective vest, and a stocking cap with a built-in, multi-function headlamp. We’d be lit up like a Christmas tree.