Authors: Susan Lewis
Culver, Indiana
Snow was falling so thick and fast it wasn’t possible to see the lake, frozen as it was into a massive rink of daily thickening ice, or indeed to make out anything at all that was much farther than the porch. Trees loomed white and shapeless in the flurrying cascades, while hedges stretched like frozen creatures trapped in the storm. This latest one had begun just over an hour ago, piling thick, icy stars onto the already snow-covered streets, creating deeper and more impenetrable drifts, turning the whole of Marshall County, perhaps the entire Midwest, into a winter wonderland.
Justine hadn’t listened to the news yet this morning. She was almost afraid to, since the forecasts she’d heard over the past few days were predicting one of the worst winters in the region for several decades. All kinds of warnings were being issued—
make sure you have an emergency kit of salt, sand, and shovel; if you have elderly neighbors nearby, keep an eye out for them; don’t call local law enforcement or 911 for travel information; be extra vigilant with small children when playing in the snow.
“They’re saying we could see a repeat of the Great Blizzard of ’78,” Sallie Jo had told her on the phone this morning. “Seventy or more people lost their lives in that storm, but everyone reckons we’ll be better prepared this time around.”
Better prepared or not, flights in and out of both Chicago and Indianapolis were already affected, either by delays, or in some cases outright cancellations, and many of the interstate highways were struggling to stay open. Thanks to the severity of the forecast, Camilla and Rob, who both had heavy work commitments in the new year, had decided that they couldn’t risk finding themselves snowed in after Christmas, if they even managed to get there, so neither of them was going to make it.
“Daddy’s still coming, isn’t he?” Lula asked for the sixth or seventh time that morning.
“I’m sure he is,” Justine replied, turning from the window and wrapping her cardigan more tightly around her, even though it wasn’t at all cold in the house. They’d already decorated for Christmas, with the tree twinkling colorfully in one corner, frosty garlands looped over the mantle above the wood-stove, and all sorts of stars, bells, Santas, and reindeer that Lula had made herself at day care. They even had a little nativity scene on top of the fridge with everything from the baby Jesus to shepherds and three wise men.
Justine stood a moment watching Lula’s efforts as she tried wrapping yet more presents at the kitchen table. She didn’t want any help, she’d declared, she could do it herself. So far today she’d managed to create lumpy little parcels with glittery gold bows for a glistening amber bracelet for Hazel, a pair of pink woolly socks for Sallie Jo, some chocolate reindeer for Sallie Jo’s parents, and a chocolate pig for Uncle Al, as she’d taken to calling Al Leith. “Because he’s got pigs at his farm,” she’d explained when she’d chosen it.
The biggest pile, already wrapped and under the tree, was for Matt.
“Let’s get this for Daddy, and this, and this,” she’d cry every time they went into Diva, or Gail’s Emporium, or Fisher & Company—she’d even found something at the café. So now they had everything from packs of coffee to snowman cookies, Jingle Bell socks, a deep red and white Indiana Hoosiers hat, and an assortment of other sporting and seasonal treats that Justine could barely remember. Lula was so excited about her daddy coming that it was almost impossible getting her to sleep at night, and on the days the weather allowed her to go to nursery she was coming home with yet another picture, Play-Doh sculpture, or funny potatohead for Matt.
They’d been back in Culver for almost three weeks by now, and as surreal as it had felt for the first couple of days, there was little doubt in Justine’s mind that she’d been right to bring Lula home when she had. There simply hadn’t been any point to hanging around in London, in spite of being urged by her mother and brother to stay awhile. Matt had tried to persuade her too, and in the end she might have given in had she not felt herself going downhill fast after Ben’s funeral. She’d needed to get away, so she’d used Lula’s desire to see Daisy as a reason to leave, and seeing Lula’s little face light up when they’d come through arrivals to find Sallie Jo and Hazel holding Daisy on a leash had been enough to convince her that she’d done the right thing.
No sooner was the reunion over than Lula launched into how Daddy and Rosie would be coming in time for Christmas, and that they were going to be living with them from now on. Afraid that Hazel might be feeling sad that her daddy wasn’t coming, and that she didn’t have a dog when Lula was now going to have two, Justine tried to distract Lula, but it was Sallie Jo who distracted her in the end. Apparently, as a parting gift to Hazel, David had bought her a three-month-old Coton de Tulear whom Hazel had named Dizzy, because he kept running around in circles.
So at least Hazel had a dog for Christmas, even if she didn’t have a daddy.
“They’re going to be Dizzy and Daisy,” Hazel was telling Lula as they made their way to the car, “and when they’re old enough they can get married and have puppies together.”
Lula was so delighted by this that it was the first thing she’d told Matt when they’d rung that night. The second thing she’d wanted to know was did he have Rosie back yet and was he definitely going to bring her with him to Culver?
“Yes, and yes,” he’d laughed. “I couldn’t possibly leave her behind, I know you’d never forgive me.”
“No, I wouldn’t, because Rosie was my first dog and first dogs are very special. Daisy’s special too, and so is Dizzy, who we haven’t met yet, because he gets sick in the car so Hazel couldn’t bring him to the airport. But we’re seeing him tomorrow and I expect all the other days, because they don’t live very far and he’s probably missing Daisy already. Daddy, did you know…?”
It was amazing how long she could talk to her father on the phone, there was always so much to ask or to tell him, and half the time, after she’d handed over to Justine, she’d manage to think of something else and so would plead to speak to him again.
It was usually when she was at day care or sleeping over at Sallie Jo’s that Justine really got to talk to Matt, although throughout their conversations she was careful to hide how wretched she was feeling. She knew grief was getting the better of her, and that she needed help, but she didn’t want to saddle him with the worry, or make him feel that he’d rather stay in England than move to Culver and find himself having to cope with her deteriorating state of mind.
In the end, apparently sensing how bad things were getting, Sallie Jo insisted on taking her to the doctor, who prescribed a course of antidepressants. Since he’d warned that they’d probably take a while to kick in, she made an effort to distract herself by spending time with Angela, Sallie Jo’s mother. Though they often talked about Justine’s grandma, Justine never seemed to absorb much, since she could barely remember what had been said when she tried to relate the stories to her mother.
As soon as the snow arrived the regular lunches and visits with Angela were forced to a temporary halt, and since then Justine had barely seen anyone, apart from the more elderly and infirm of her neighbors whose mail she collected from their boxes to save them skidding or falling on their drives. According to Sallie Jo, Al was due to come later to help clear the worst of the snowfall so everyone in Justine’s little enclave could at least get into town, perhaps even as far as the Park ’n’ Shop to pick up supplies.
“Daddy doesn’t have to worry about being snowed in,” Lula was telling Daisy, “because he’s going to be living here from now on. So is Rosie. She’s a golden retriever so she’s bigger than you, and older, but I think you’ll like her anyway. Mommy, Daisy will like Rosie, won’t she?”
“Of course,” Justine assured her, though she had no idea if the dogs would get along. Right now it was hard to make herself care, but she had to force herself to try for Lula’s sake, because everything was about Lula now.
Hearing a sudden banging from the side of the house, she glanced at Lula, told her stay where she was, and went to the back door to investigate. She found Billy Jakes outside, hammering and chopping at her store of logs.
“They’re going to freeze solid if you don’t move ’em inside,” he told her. “Won’t be no good to you then. Got someplace you can put ’em?”
Bemused, Justine looked around, trying to make a decision. “Just here, in the hall,” she told him. Then she remembered to say thank you.
“No need for that,” he retorted gruffly. “Get back in the warm. I’ll sort this out.”
Doing as she was told, Justine returned to the kitchen and took the lasagne she was making for her neighbors, Maurice and Evie Gibson, from the oven. As she set it down on the countertop she wondered why her vision was blurred. It was as though the snow had somehow become trapped in her eyes, turning everything white and watery. She reached for some kitchen towel and was already dabbing her eyes before she realized she was crying, as silently and persistently as the snow was falling. She tried to make herself stop, but suddenly huge racking sobs were tearing through her, and Lula, shocked and frightened, was jumping off her chair and running to her.
“Mommy, what is it?” Lula wailed. “Did you burn yourself? Does it hurt? Shall I kiss it better?”
Justine couldn’t answer; she could only cling to her daughter and wish she was Abby.
“I love you too, Mommy,” Lula whispered.
Realizing she must have spoken, Justine tried to speak again, but no more words would come, only terrible, heart-wrenching gulps of grief. She was scaring Lula, she could see that, but she was unable to stop or to make out what Lula was saying. Nothing was making sense anymore, everything was closing in on her, and all she wanted was to sink to the floor and scream and howl for the return of her dead children. She couldn’t go on without them. She’d tried telling herself she could, but it just wasn’t possible. It was as though all the vital parts of herself had been ripped away, and nothing, not time nor pills nor counseling, was ever going to heal them.
Entangled with it all she felt a desperate need for Matt. There was barely a week to go until Christmas and he still hadn’t booked a flight. Even if he managed to get one now there was every chance it would be canceled or diverted to an airport that wasn’t closed due to the freeze. And how would he get from there to Culver if the big blizzard hit?
Perhaps he didn’t want to come.
“Justine, hey, hey,” someone was saying. “You’re going to be OK. Ssh, now. Come on, deep breaths, there’s a good girl.”
“I think she burned herself,” Lula was sobbing. “She won’t let me see her hands…Mommy, please stop crying, please. Uncle Al will make the hurt go away.”
“Did you burn yourself?” Al asked, easing Justine onto a chair.
Realizing her hands were jammed under her arms, Justine plucked them out to show that she wasn’t injured. They looked strange to her, as if they belonged to somebody else. Everything was strange, the room, the people in it, the dazzling blaze of colored lights, even the thoughts in her head.
“OK, I’m going to call Sallie Jo,” Al told her. “I might have to go pick her up, but…”
“It’s all right, I’m fine,” Justine whispered raggedly. “I just…I’m sorry…It was suddenly…suddenly…” Her voice broke on a sob as her mind reeled into a terrible darkness.
“Too much?” he said, still holding on to her.
She tried to focus on him, but his face kept swimming away.
“Daddy’s coming soon,” Lula told him, her earnest eyes still awash with tears.
“Sure he is, honey,” Al said, and smiled.
“Are you OK now, Mommy?” Lula asked.
Justine put a hand to her dear little cheek and tried to smile. “Abby,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have scared you.”
Lula looked worriedly at Al.
Justine noticed Daisy sitting upright on the floor, big black eyes fixed on her, ears down, and an uncertain wag in her fountain of a tail. Was this a new game? What was she supposed to do?
Allowing Lula to climb onto her lap, Justine suddenly started to shake so hard she could barely hold her.
“Mommy!” Lula cried.
Justine’s laugh was shrill. “Abby, what are you doing?” she demanded. “You’re grown-up now, you shouldn’t pretend to be a child.”
“Mommy, I’m not Abby,” Lula wailed. “I’m Lula.”
Going through to the back, Al quickly asked Billy to go fetch Sallie Jo, then he returned to the kitchen and eased Lula gently from Justine’s arms, keeping her safely in his. “Can you help me get Mommy into bed?” he asked with a reassuring smile. “I think she needs to lie down.”
“Yes,” Justine agreed, aware of how ferociously she was wringing her hands, and hurting, and longing, and despairing. “I need to lie down. I’ll be fine once I’ve had a lie-down.”
—
She slept for the rest of that day and most of the next. By the time she woke up again she was feeling much better.
It was good to be back at the farmhouse, she decided. She’d missed it. She and Matt had been away too long this last time. She couldn’t think for the moment where they’d been, but it would come to her. She wondered how the children were, if they’d behaved for Catherine, and how Cheryl had coped with the business.
She’d get out of bed in a minute to go and find out, but for the moment, she’d just carry on lying here, cozy in the feel of Lula and Daisy snuggled up next to her, both fast asleep.
“Hey, Mum,” Abby said.
Justine looked toward the door where Abby was standing; how beautiful her darling girl looked with her cascades of wavy blond hair and baby-blue eyes. “Where’s Dad?” Justine asked her.
Abby didn’t answer. She was searching for something, turning her bedroom upside down. “I can’t find it,” she cried angrily. “I have to find it.”
“What are you looking for?”
“Ben’s hidden it, I know he has. Where is he? I’m going to kill him.”
“Too late, I got you first,” Ben guffawed from the tree.
“Come down!” Justine cried. “Please. You’ve done a terrible thing.”
“You wish I was dead,” Ben snarled.
“That’s not true,” Justine cried, frantically looking around.