Rocky Mountain Angels (33 page)

***

Joe and Mari rode in companionable silence for about an hour. She had been so worn out listening to her family all morning—and really for the last four days—the quiet was peaceful. And it gave her a chance to think about Eli. She had been pondering their relationship from all angles, and she was becoming convinced that there just wasn’t much to build a future on.

Joe had shown her what a man of faith looked like. That’s what she wanted. If she really thought Eli had any compunction toward that end, she’d give him time to get there, but she really didn’t. She had asked him about the service, and he had sounded pretty uninterested—even derisive.

She’d been attracted to Joe from the beginning, but because he was attached, she had encouraged Eli.
Am I so needy these days—so fearful of being alone—that I’ll stay with someone not quite right for me?
She knew she needed to be able to break up with Eli even without Joe in the picture. Getting to know Joe had raised the bar for her, and for that she would always be grateful.

And she was also so very grateful for his willingness to drive her to see her dad and all the ways that he had supported her. She was sure she could never truly repay him, but she tried to think of some way to thank him. She thought of all the time he must have put into her bird feeders.
It has to be extra special, but I can’t really afford to buy him a gift of any size.
Then a crazy thought sprang to her mind. It was so out of character for her to think of it that she tried to push it aside, but it just kept coming back.
Give him a gift you’ve never given anyone—read him something you wrote.

She started to reach for her laptop case at her feet but stopped and brought her hands back to her lap. She sat, unable to follow through—defeated by self-consciousness. She yawned.
Maybe I should sleep on the idea
. She picked up the pillow beside her and noticed that the light flurries that had started almost as soon as they left Oklahoma City were growing heavier. “Did you hear a weather report?”

“Early this morning. They were saying blowing snow, but it didn’t sound too serious.” He flashed her a smile. “Don’t worry, pumpkin, my old truck with brand new tires will get us home.”

Mari slapped his arm with the back of her hand. “Now don’t you start that! It’s one thing for my dad to call me that, I don’t need it from you.”

Joe grinned. “I think it’s cute.”

“And is it also cute how Jerry treats me like I’m five, and all my relatives tell stories of my oh so funny childhood and adolescence?”

Joe couldn’t stop grinning. “Of course it is.”

“How about how Alex spent one whole meal psychoanalyzing my life and the fact that I have four degrees and still no job? Was that also cute?”

“Well,” Joe conceded, “that was probably more awkward than cute, but it does show he cares enough to think about it.”

Mari leaned her head back and looked at the cab’s ceiling. “Thank you for taking me home, Joe, but truly, I hope I don’t have to go back for a long time now.”

Joe looked surprised. “You seem to get along with all your brothers’ wives, and the kids all adore you.”

She returned her gaze to the snow coming down. “I make a good show of it, don’t I? But I’m really pretty uncomfortable around most of them. They all feel sorry for me and think I’m a little bit crazy, and I think the kids like me because I don’t have any of my own to compete for their attention.”

She looked to Joe and smiled. “Sissy sure latched on to you. You were her new best friend.”

“Well, she’s a sweetheart. I’m sorry she wasn’t there this morning for one last hug.”

“Do you want kids, Joe?”

“Yeah, I admit I haven’t thought about it too much, but yeah I do.” He glanced her way. “How about you?”

“I guess I do. I just try not to think about it too much. Women only have so much time, you know.”

Joe wondered if the time was right. Mari yawned and plumped her pillow against the door. “I think I need a nap.”

Nope.

It was several hours before Mari woke up, and then she was in the mood to sing. They sang every song they both knew, and she sang a few he didn’t. It was a nice way to pass the time, and the Hebrew songs especially made him feel at peace about the future.

Finally, Mari seemed to be all sung out, and she once again opened her laptop. Joe assumed she planned to do some writing, but instead, she started to read.

Out loud.

“The cold water beaded up and rolled down the sides of the shiny irrigation pipe making it difficult, but fun, for my brothers and I to walk on. On one side, the dirt had been heated by the summer sun until it was an unbearable temperature—even for feet toughened by weeks of running on gravel roads—and all kinds of stickers grew where the dripping water refreshed them—where no herbicides reached them.

“Some were vines that grew in snake-like fashion along the ground with thick barbs. Some grew hidden in a clump of green with thin, tiny needles. Then there were the cockle burrs that had no intention of hiding. They boldly grew on bushy plants with large, prickly balls that grabbed pants and shoestrings.

“The water that gushed out of the pipe on the cornfield side quickly created gloppy mud—mud to wiggle our toes in, mud to sink into up to our ankles—but mud that was being chilled by water pumped from deep within the earth. It sent shivers up our legs and sent us scrambling over the pipe to brave the stickers for a bit of warmth before climbing back on, our muddy prints telling the tale of our adventures.

“The corn leaves swayed, giving its wave offering to the clouds, wafting its green aroma on the wind. Wild flowers, too, released their sweet scent to the breeze, and nearby, the earthy smell of cattle.

“On some days, the nearby grove of trees would be black with birds that all took off at once with a flutter of wings, or a cow could be heard bellowing for her calf as we made our way along the cold, slippery pipe.

“We picked the pinkish purple flowers that shared the moist soil with the stickers. The bouquet wilted in our sweaty hands as we neared the well, the noise of which was deafening. I could feel the low pump, pump, pump sound in my chest until I felt like it was my heart beating. At the same time, my ribs felt as if they were closing in—collapsing.

“I always felt like running to escape this assault on my chest, but the cool, sparkling water called to my dry throat. To get a drink I had to get right next to the well. I took the metal tumbler from off the faucet where it rested upside down, and with a twist of the handle, released the water with a rush that sent the icy spray splashing up my sun-warmed arms. Ignoring the heat of the engine and the beating in my chest, I poured the frigid water down my throat. My insides felt instantly frosted from my lips to my stomach.

“The dust on my feet didn’t feel quite so hot.”

When she finished, she closed her laptop and seemed to wait, her eyes on her computer.

“Did you write that?”

Mari merely nodded.

Joe grinned. “That was... so...” —he struggled for the right words— “so sensuous.”

She looked at him with surprise in her eyes.

“And by that I mean that it really engaged my senses. I could see and feel and even smell your descriptions. But you’re the daughter of a banker. Whose—”

“My uncle,” she supplied. “Mom’s brother Richard is a farmer in Nebraska. We used to visit in the summers.”

He nodded, wondering how he could ask her to read something else when he had vowed not to ask. Before he could think his way around that promise, however, Mari re-opened her laptop.

A slow smile spread over his face as she began to read him a poem this time. Rich in imagery, Joe felt as if he were gazing at the stars with her on a humid summer night, listening to cicadas and whippoorwills. When she was finished, she read another, and Joe felt greatly honored that she was gifting him with her writing. He drank in every poem and laughed through her rather funny essays, each one revealing more of Mari’s heart and soul. She had seemed nervous at first, but with his encouragement, she finally seemed to enjoy sharing her talent with him. When she finished reading one of her short stories, he knew.

This is Mari’s calling
.

He wasn’t sure how easy it would be to convince her of that, however.

They stopped late afternoon for an early supper and by the time they got back in the truck, the snow was coming down heavier, and the wind was picking up. Mari seemed apprehensive, but he had driven in worse. He knew they’d be okay.

After dark, however, he had to admit they were driving in a blizzard, and he wondered if he should have stopped in the last town they’d passed through. He was driving slow and steady, and so far, he could still see the sides of the road. Mari was so tense, he could feel it from across the cab. He was pretty tense himself, gripping the wheel and leaning forward, straining to see through the blowing snow.

After a bit, it seemed to lessen, and Joe was able to increase his speed. “I think we’re out the worst of it now. We should be able—” Joe thought he saw glowing eyes in the road— a lot of them. He slammed on the brakes, and Mari screeched.

Black Angus.

A herd was out all over the highway. The road was slick, and Joe knew he’d never get stopped in time. He swerved and took the ditch, he and Mari bouncing nearly to the ceiling as they went down and back up again, taking out more of the pasture fence. Then all at once they were tipping, and Joe had no control. The truck landed on its side and slid a ways with him up in the air held in place only by his seat belt and his hands gripping the wheel.

When the truck stopped sliding, he looked to Mari, who was now below him clutching her laptop to her chest. “Are you all right? I’m so sorry, I couldn’t stop.”

She rubbed her head and blinked up at him. “I hit my head, but I think I’m all right. Thank goodness my pillow was here, or I’d be feeling worse.”

Hanging in the seat belt was pretty uncomfortable, and he felt like he was going to have a bruise where he had hit it hard in the turn-over. “Mari, I’ve got to get out of this, but I don’t want to fall on you. Can you get unbuckled and stand on the door out of the way a bit?”

She did as he asked, and he pulled himself out and over the seat belt, lowering himself to the door holding onto the steering wheel and the hand hold above the driver’s side window. He was too tall to stand up straight. He bent his knees, leaning his back against the ceiling, then he pulled Mari in for a hug. “Are you sure you’re okay? Let me see your head.” He turned on the cab light, and she turned so he could get a good look. “I think you’ll have a bruise.” He felt into her hairline.

She flinched. “Ow!”

“And a bump.” Joe knew she was in danger of having a concussion, but he didn’t want to worry her. “I guess we’d better call for some help.” He put his hand in his pocket to retrieve his cell phone, but it wasn’t there. “Damn it. I must have left it at your parents’ house. You have yours, don’t you?”

She looked around for her purse. “Yes, when you took so long this morning, I tried to call you, but I got your voice mail. I just assumed you were too busy to answer. Then I forgot to ask you about it later.” She finally found her purse under the perpendicular truck seat and got out the phone. “I hope it has enough battery power. I’m not sure I charged it last night.” She handed it to him. “Here, you call. My hands are getting too cold.”

He took it and punched in 911. “Where’s that box of Hot Hands? Now’s the time to try them out if you haven’t already.” He got a weird message and looked at the screen. “You’ve got enough charge, but we must be in a cell phone black hole, or maybe a tower was damaged in the wind. It’s searching for a signal but can’t find one.”

Mari set her laptop aside and pulled out a couple of the packages that promised warmth and tore them open. “Where are we?”

“Really close to the New Mexico border, I think. The last town we went through was Dalhart, Texas.”

“Kind of nowhere, then.”

The sudden gust of wind buffeting the truck seemed to emphasize that point. Joe let out a breath. “Yeah.” She was slipping the warm packets into her mittens. “Do they work?”

She nodded. “They heat up pretty fast. Shall I dig you out a couple?” He leaned his head back and put his arms around her, pulling her close. “Not just yet. I need to think a minute.” Joe didn’t want to worry Mari, but he knew they were in a real mess. They were wrecked in a snow-covered pasture in a white pickup after dark with no cell phone service. The next little town was way too far to walk in freezing wind even for someone not sensitive to the cold like Mari. The battery would only last so long, and then they were going to get cold.
But at least we’re out of the wind
.
Will that be enough? If no one finds us all night, will we be alive by morning?

And suddenly he knew “the season” was now.

***

“Okay, I’ve got them stuffed in my socks down to my toes and around my ankles and in my pants pockets, my waistband, my mittens and and my bra. I’m sure glad you bought a whole box of these.” Mari was trying to adjust a couple over her shoulders before Joe buttoned her coat back up. “There are plenty more. Where do you want some? Don’t be a hero. You don’t need frostbite any more than I do.”

“I don’t feel too bad except for my toes.”

Mari went back down to find more packets in the box. “Well, kick off those shoes, and let’s get some in your socks.”

Joe shook his head. “Mari, believe me, you do not want me to take off my shoes in this confined space.”

She couldn’t believe he was willing to lose his toes over a little bit of foot odor. “Joe, it can’t be that bad. Please, save your toes.”

“I’m fine for the moment. I promise if I lose all feeling, I’ll risk making you pass out.” He reached around her and paused with his hand over the cab light. “I need to turn out this light to save some of our battery power.” She nodded, trying not to panic as he plunged the interior into darkness. “I’m going to leave the headlights on, so hopefully someone will see us.”