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CLAIRE O’DELL DISCONNECTED the phone and set it on the table. She wanted to scream and throw the receiver but resisted the temptation. Any sudden noise might set Tracy off again, and it had taken longer than usual for her to settle down. Nerves over the trip. Or just Tracy being Tracy.
Their big purple bag sat at the front door, ready for Mike to lug to the car. She’d stuffed a week’s worth of purple and green clothes inside to keep Tracy calm and happy for the five days they’d be gone.
Home in time for Thanksgiving dinner. A real celebration this year. A rebirth for their family.
That was the plan, anyway. “Now what?”
The door squealed open and banged into the luggage. “Ready to go?” Mike stamped his shoes free of slush and stepped into the mudroom. She wished he’d wear a hat. His buzz cut offered no protection for the flushed ears that matched the freckles he hated. On Tracy, the snub nose and freckles were pixie cute, despite her nobody-home stare. The little girl also had inherited Claire’s pouty lips, black hair and blue eyes, but missed out on their mischievous sparkle. She wondered if Tracy would take after Mike’s lean build or her own stocky stature. It didn’t matter unless they could unlock the little girl hidden within.
Mike grabbed the suitcase and bounced on his heels with impatience. “Is she ready? Calm today?” He pulled the bag to the door, grinning. “I can’t believe today’s finally here.”
Claire wondered how to tell him so he wouldn’t explode. Both of them teetered on an emotional cliff. “We need to talk.”
His grin dimmed several watts. “What?” Mike peered around the neat kitchen, noticing the new stain.
“Orange juice.” She answered the unspoken question, and had already cleaned up the broken glass, but the spot on the wall hadn’t dried. Her own fault. Tracy had yelled for a big girl glass instead of the Sippy cup. After all, she’d just turned seven, and Claire so wanted Tracy to have what other kids her age took for granted.
The dappled wall paper hid the worst of five years of damage. Most parents only dealt with crayon scribbles. Claire had planned to paint the walls after the trip, and wipe away the bad stains for a fresh start. Stains, though, were the least of their worries. She took a breath and told him. “The flight got cancelled.”
“Cancelled. Why?” Mike glanced through the storm door at the cloudless blue sky. “Overbooked? Did you get another flight?”
“Snowstorm grounded all the flights. No, not here.” She sighed. “Just our luck Chicago has great weather for November, and cowboy-land gets snow.” Her hand caught his. “I’ve been on the phone the past two hours for a way to get there. Nothing’s available.”
“That can’t be.” Mike pulled his hand away and dropped the luggage. “It’s all set. I got a half day off from work to run you to the airport. We’ve pre-paid for Tracy. Took forever just to get on the waiting list.” His fair skin flushed to match his wind-burned ears. “Maybe they’ll postpone—”
“Already tried that. I called Elaine. The other parents are in the same boat. Elaine tried, too, but they won’t cancel, said too many are already on their way. We get no refund, Mike, and we go back on the waiting list if we don’t show.” Claire tightened her jaw and resolve. She wouldn’t cry, not as long as they had one option left. She just had to convince Mike.
He flexed his fist, frustrated there was nothing to hit. You couldn’t beat up the weather. “Took out a second mortgage. I’m already working double shifts.” Mike’s soft words punched the air. “We can’t stop now. Tracy has a chance, maybe her only chance. There’s got to be a way.” He closed the door on the beautiful Chicago winter day.
The clear skies mocked them. “Elaine says three other families from here, five from Detroit, and two from Kansas City got grounded. Well, the ones from Detroit just landed at O’Hare. Probably others we don’t know about. But that’s eleven kids with their parents and none of us can afford to miss this chance.”
“What do you suggest? Strap on boots and hike to Texas?” He pulled out his phone. “What’s the number of the Legacy Center? Maybe I can explain—”
“Mike. Stop.”
“But she’s just a little girl. We did everything they asked.” He coughed, trying to cover the emotion. She knew he hated to look weak. But this was a challenge he couldn’t win with skinned knuckles. “You could drive. We can ask my dad to go. It’s not that far. You take the car, and I can catch rides to work with one of the guys.”
Claire grabbed the phone from him. “Our old car barely gets you to and from work. I already asked about car rentals. Solidly booked. Trains take too long.” She grasped his hands again, smoothed the blunt nails stained with grease and rough from cold weather. “Elaine found a bus.”
“A bus? What do you mean?”
She smiled, kissing his chapped fingers. “The Detroit group meets Elaine at O’Hare to board the bus. It’s a church bus big enough for everyone. From there they go to Kansas City and on to the Legacy Center in Texas.” He had to say yes. “We’re supposed to check in tomorrow for orientation and first treatments. We can make it if we drive straight through. But we’ve got to leave now.”
“A church bus.” Mike’s mouth fell open. “They’re driving a friggin’ bus from Chicago to Dallas? Through a snow storm? With how many autistic kids for hours and hours?” His shoulders hunched. “You know how crazy that sounds?”
“A dozen kids, a few more parents.” Claire’s words tumbled over themselves. “There are three more buses with kids coming from Las Vegas, Minneapolis and Atlanta. Some others will drive their own cars. You read the program, Mike. It’s limited to two hundred children, and probably half that number got zapped by the storm.” She toed the suitcase, packed not just with clothes but with their hopes and dreams. “We’ve got twenty-four hours, maybe a little more time, to get there. With luck the snow will melt before we arrive and we’ll make even better time.” She squeezed his hand until he met her eyes. “Tracy can be on that bus. Me and Tracy.” Claire offered a faltering smile. “It’s our best chance, Mike. For Tracy. You know it is.”
“I can’t get off work, babe. I can’t lose my job.” He pulled his hands away. “Three guys are ready to take my place. I had to beg to get the half day off today.”
“You can still drive us to O’Hare just like we planned. Elaine fixed everything.” She embraced him, and couldn’t stem the eager hope. “Please. We won’t be alone. We’ll help each other.” She laughed. “We’ve all got the same experience.”
He hung his head. “I wish I could go, too. I need to be there for you and Tracy.”
“You are, Mike. You’re a great dad, and a great husband. Just get us to the bus.” She hugged him again.
“God, I feel so helpless.” He grabbed the suitcase.
Claire kissed his cheek. “Helpless? Not anymore.”
