She decided in
that moment that she didn't want anyone to know what had happened here.
Always reserved, if not precisely shy, she
was sure she did not want to face questions or have to tell this story to
strangers.
Anonymous; she wanted to
remain anonymous, out of sight.
Someday,
Stani Moss, world famous violinist, might make a great comeback from this
accident; but the girl who had dragged him out of the storm need never be
named.
“Okay, Stani?
Do we have a deal?” she whispered.
Sweeping crumbs from her sweater, she let out
a resolute sigh.
That settled, now all
she had to do was wait for Jack, or someone, to find them.
Thankfully,
there was work to be done.
The supply of
firewood on the porch had dwindled to a few sticks.
She would have to bring in more from the
shed.
The trouble was she’d lost her
shoes.
And they were the only pair she'd
brought with her.
She looked around the
room, searching for inspiration.
It was
then that she spotted the boots, cast off in her frenzy and now lying near the
hearth.
Why not?
They might be a little big for her, but they
were certainly better than nothing.
Stani would not be needing them this morning, she was sure.
With her feet
in the once-fine boots and bundled in coat and gloves, she took the snow shovel
and dug her way to the woodshed at the side of the porch.
Several trips back and forth and she was
satisfied that she could keep them warm for the next few hours.
The cold air had made her hungry again, and
she fixed a sandwich to eat while she warmed herself, sitting at Stani's feet
on the floor.
She would be able to eat,
she decided, in the midst of even the worst disasters.
Chapter Eight
They never went
to bed that night.
Jana wanted to drive
to Washington.
It was unthinkable that
they would sit here waiting.
They should
be doing something, searching, asking questions.
She tried to pray, to find assurance that
just as God had given Stani his extraordinary talent, he would not allow him to
come to harm.
A loving God would watch
over him, protect him, and permit him a long life in which to share his
gift.
In answer to her prayers, she felt
a little calmer, comforted by her once-strong faith in the God she had all but
forgotten at times.
For Milo, she
was more than a little afraid.
Milo kept
his emotions so rigidly in check, never letting anyone, not even herself, see
that he was anxious or worried.
Even
early in their marriage, when they had struggled to survive on the little she
earned teaching and performing, Milo had never let her see anything but his
vision for the future, always looking ahead to a better life if only they
worked hard.
After Stani came along,
Milo had gained more and more confidence.
As each carefully measured step brought this amazing child closer to a
career on the concert stage, Jana watched her husband transformed from the
struggling immigrant student she had first fallen in love with to a powerful
and highly respected figure in the most elite circles of classical music.
He was welcomed into the offices of the great
music directors, embraced by world-famous conductors, and regarded as a force
in the movement to bring classical performance to a broader audience.
Yet tonight, as
they waited for some word of Stani's whereabouts, Milo sat at his desk, head in
hands, unkempt and brooding.
He seemed
to be searching inside himself for some comfort, some hope; a logical
explanation for this unexpected turn in their lives.
He had always been able to make things
happen, to devise and implement a plan, meeting with success at every
calculated turn.
Now he had lost
control, without means to bring these events into line with logic.
Jana feared
that if indeed the unspeakable had occurred, if Stani had come to some harm,
Milo would not be able to deal with the consequences.
He believed himself responsible for whatever
had followed his conversation with Stani, blamed himself for having been too
harsh.
She prayed again, that even now,
Milo would turn to God for strength.
Though he had long ago abandoned the religion of his parents, surely he
had not also abandoned God?
They never
spoke of it.
Each had too much respect
for the other to intrude on something so private.
But now Jana worried that he might feel he
had been too long away from God to accept any comfort.
Because she
could think of nothing to say, she busied herself in the kitchen.
Preparing a tray of coffee and toast, she
carried it into the living room.
Milo
remained slumped over his desk, staring out at the dull gray sky.
Dawn had come.
It was past seven on the morning before
Christmas Eve.
Jana switched on the
television, and keeping the volume low, tuned to the morning news show.
The broadcast was focused on the prospects
for a white Christmas in New York.
It
seemed that during the night, the entire Eastern seaboard had been blanketed by
a sudden storm.
In areas south of
Washington, widespread power outages and road closures had severely hampered
holiday travel.
Jana
gasped.
“That's it!
Oh, Milo, that has to be it!”
He looked up
with glazed eyes.
“What?”
“The
storm.
They must have been trapped
somewhere by the storm.
With the phone
lines down, they wouldn't be able to call either.
They're probably bundled into some hotel,
waiting out the storm.”
The more she
talked, the more convinced she became.
Crossing the room, she stood behind him, gently kneading his
shoulders.
“As soon as he can, I'm sure
Stani will call us.
He must be frantic,
knowing how worried we must be.
Poor
Stani, you know how he hates to cause any bother.”
Milo considered
the idea, trying to rally his thoughts.
If they had gone somewhere, maybe the mountains to the west of DC, with
the romantic notion of a country inn or mountain lodge, they might indeed have
been trapped by the fast-moving storm.
It would have been foolish to set out in such conditions.
Stani was not an experienced driver.
It would have been sensible to stay put until
the roads were cleared.
Yes, he finally
agreed, in the absence of any other explanation, this at least offered the
prospect of Stani's safe return.
They decided to
prepare to travel to Washington as soon as they had heard from Stani.
They would attend the concerts and spend
Christmas there with him.
During the
morning, they showered and Jana repacked the bags they had brought back from
Aspen.
All they needed now was a call from
Stani, full of apologies, and this nightmare would be behind them.
Chapter Nine
Gradually the
clouds lifted, and, as is often the case after a violent storm, the sun shone
brightly in a clear blue sky.
Emily's
spirits began to lift, as melting snow dripped from the roof and songbirds took
to the air in search of their breakfast.
Her only hope now was that someone out searching would see the smoke
from her chimney.
Jack would most
certainly come to investigate that.
She stayed on
the floor near Stani, watching as he continued in what appeared to be a deep,
peaceful sleep.
He never stirred, and
the frown of pain had not crossed his face for a very long time now.
His breathing was regular and his pulse was
strong.
His condition seemed stable, she
assured herself.
Touching his cheek,
which was beginning to show a shadow of rusty beard, she wondered again what he
would look like, awake and smiling.
He
was as familiar to her now as any old friend would be.
After watching him for so many hours, his
seemed to be the face of someone she had always known, and most definitely
someone she would never forget.
Late in the
morning, her waiting was finally rewarded by the appearance of the big brown
sheriff's cruiser approaching the gate.
In her excitement, she flung open the front door and ran out onto the
porch, waving her arms and calling out to the tall man wading toward her
through the snow.
Jack looked
none too happy to see her.
His first
words were hardly welcoming.
“What on
earth are you doing here?”
“Never mind
that now!”
Grabbing his hand, she pulled
him through the front door.
His gaze went
immediately to Stani, and he stopped in his tracks, pulling back on her
hand.
And then Jack did something he’d
never done before.
His eyes wide with
horror and his face actually turning red, he shouted at her.
“W
hat
in
the name of all that’s holy is going on up here?”
She raised her
own voice, tears of frustration stinging her eyes.
“Stani Moss!
You're searching for him, right?
The car accident on the Charlotte Springs road?”
Jack was supposed to know all this, not stand
there asking questions!
They stood
there for a long moment, staring at each other, and then Jack took a deep
breath, laying his hands gently on her shoulders.
“Okay, slow down.
Tell me what's happened here.
Slowly!”
She tried to
calm herself.
“Aren't you searching for
someone who wrecked a car?”
“No.
We found them yesterday.
They're both dead.
Are you trying to tell me this guy was in
that car?”
As his expression changed
from questioning to incredulous, she urged him on, nodding her head violently.
“Yes!
He walked up the hill into the back yard and
collapsed.
I thought he was dead!
He's badly hurt, his head and his shoulder,
at least.
I thought you'd be searching.
. .oh, Jack, just call for help, please!
Then I'll explain it to you.
He
needs to get to a hospital!
Please!”
“All
right, Em.
I'll be right back.”
Giving her shoulders a little squeeze, he
turned, heading back out the door.
“What
did you say his name is?”
“Stani Moss.”
He stopped, giving her a keen
look over his shoulder.
“How do you know
who he is?”
Emily pointed to the wallet
and the recording, still on the table.
“He's a musician, a famous one.
Mother had one of his records.”
Jack picked up first one and
then the other, rifling the contents of the wallet and studying the photograph on
the jacket.
“I'll see if anyone's
looking for him.”
After
calling for the ambulance, Jack radioed the Virginia Highway Patrol, relaying
the information from the New York driver’s license he’d slipped into his
pocket.
As he trudged back to the house,
he primed himself to begin the interrogation.
How Emily had ended up in this situation, he couldn’t imagine, but he
had every intention of getting to the bottom of things quickly.
At the open doorway, he
paused.
Emily was talking, her voice low
but not so low that he couldn’t hear what she was saying to the man on the
floor. “It won't be long now.
The
ambulance will take you to the hospital at the University.
It's a really good hospital.
They'll take the best care of you there.
I know there's someone out there frantic to
hear what’s happened to you, and they're going to be so thankful to have you
back.”
Bending over him and laying a
hand on his hair, she said softly, “God be with you, Stani.”
Jack stood silently,
captivated by the scene.
Sunlight
streamed through the window, casting the two of them in a glowing circle.
Emily was gazing down at the man beside her
with what could only be called tenderness.
It struck him suddenly that she had grown up.
She was a beautiful young woman now, not just
the lovely girl he'd sent off to Williamsburg.
She turned to meet his gaze and for a fleeting
instant, he saw her mother looking up at him, her wise gray eyes reflecting the
same remarkable spirit.
What had
happened here he might never know; but if he knew anything about Emily, it had
been intense.
He swallowed past the lump
in his throat, moving a cautious step closer, all thought of interrogation
vanished.