The Way of Women (17 page)

Tearless, Katheryn held her daughter as Susan cried on her shoulder. Fury burned hotter than a cutting torch, drying her tears before they reached her eyes. She stroked her daughter’s back with one hand, choked out the comforting phrases her mother heart could do without thought, and fought to keep the rage not only under control, but undetected.

Susan had always been her father’s favorite, his princess back in the days before the depression had fogged his world. His pride in her academic accomplishments knew no bounds.

Katheryn used every micron of her will to keep thinking about the past, to pay attention to her daughter, even to pet the dog, who whined plaintively at their feet—anything to keep thought away from the mountain and the events exploding there.

The phone rang again. She tore from her daughter’s embrace and leaped again for the receiver.

“Mom, where’s …”

“On the mountain. That’s all I know. I have to keep the line open so they can call me as soon as they reach civilization.” She knew her tone was abrupt and rude, but anything further was impossible at the moment.

“Wait!”

She could hear the tears in his voice.

“Their camp was right in the blast zone.” His voice choked. “Unless they camped somewhere else.”

“Kevin, I don’t know. All we can do is hope and pray. Truly, we need this line clear.”

“I’m on my way over.”

“Susan is already here.” Katheryn stared at the receiver after it clicked in her ear. He hung up. Never had one of her children hung up on her, but then never had she told them to get off the line either.

Except during their teen years when the two fought over the phone and David finally put in a second line so he could call home when he wanted to. Back in the days when he called home.

Not like now. With that she jerked back to the present to find herself standing in front of the coffeepot. David would need fresh coffee when he got home.

She needed coffee. And besides, her hands needed action. Concrete, useful action before they tore her hair out.

“I can do that.”

“Thanks, honey, but I will.”

“Kevin’s coming home?”

“On his way. Let the dog out, will you?”

Lucky refused to leave her side, ignoring Susan’s cajoling.

“Your tulips are glorious.” Susan cupped her elbows with her hands, remaining in the open door.

Such inconsequential things. Tulips, coffee, a dog needing a run. The things of life that go on even when death is stalking unknown numbers not a hundred miles south.

If only there were something I could do
. She set the full teakettle on the largest burner and took the pot over to the sink to rinse out. Measure the coffee, make sure the lid is secure on the green can. Wait for the kettle to whistle.
Wait
—a four-letter word worse than any cursing. Wait for the water to boil. Wait for the phone to ring. Wait to hear if her son and husband still lived.

“We could call the hospital in Longview.”

“There isn’t one in Castle Rock?” Susan turned from her contemplations, tear tracks glistening on her cheeks.

“I doubt it.” Wait.

“The news said not to call. All the lines are tied up or needed for emergency calls.”

Katheryn cocked an eyebrow. Easy for them to say. Did not her fear qualify as an emergency? “I’m going down there.”

“When? They said to stay away.” Susan took the now screaming kettle and poured the hot water in the upper level of the dripolator.

“Now.” Katheryn froze for an instant when the phone rang. Her stomach strangled her windpipe. “Hello.”

“Katheryn, you hung up on me.”

“Mother, please, I have to keep the line clear.”

“You haven’t heard anything, then?”

“No.”

“Whatever possessed David to—”

Katheryn clicked the phone back in the cradle, whispering, “Goodbye,
Mother,” as she did so. She shook her head, then leaned against the cool wall, her forehead absorbing the comfort where her heart was unable.

“Grandma?”

A faint nod.

“You want me to call her back?”

“Please.” Katheryn hesitated when the phone rang right beside her ear. She stared for an eternal moment, then forced her hand to obey the signals from her brain that said pick it up.

Why did “hello” seem like such a monumental stumbling block?

“Katheryn, have you heard anything?” David’s father this time.

“No.”

“They did go camping, right?”

“Yes.” She knew David had spoken with his parents last Thursday and presumably told them he was going back up on the mountain.

“I tried to talk him out of it.”

“Me too.” Katheryn sank down on the chair where she usually sat to pay bills or plan menus. Her gaze caught the picture David had taken on one of their camping trips. He and Brian with a string of trout. Had they caught trout the last two mornings? Or in the evening? Was their last meal fresh trout dusted in corn meal and fried in bacon grease?
Stop that! You can’t give up yet!
The stern voice brought her back to the conversation on the phone. “Sorry, Dad, but I have to keep this line clear for them to call. Right, I’ll have him call you the second he walks in the door.” She hung up again and stretched her head first to one shoulder and then to the other.

Susan tapped her on the arm and handed her a cup of coffee laced with cream and a spoon of sugar, just the way she liked it best. Most of
the time, she eschewed the cream and sugar in the effort to maintain some kind of decent hip line.

She cupped her hands around the warmth, sipped half while staring out the kitchen window, and plunked the remainder down on the tile counter. “You stay here for the phone. I’ll call you from pay phones along the way.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No.”

“What good will it do to go down there. You can’t get anywhere near Toutle or 504.”

“I have to do something.”

“Dad always said to stay where you are until someone finds you.”

“I’m not the one who is lost.”
And someone’d better be looking for them
. No one in authority knows they were—she corrected herself—are on Mount St. Helens.

S
he cried out in her agony, writhing and squirming in convulsive spasms that would not cease. “Creator of all things, I ache,” she screamed. Struggling against the life blood streaming from her heart, she finally realized the futility of her efforts and resigned herself to waiting. It had passed before and would pass again. If she could only endure the pain in the meantime.

I
’d take you down there if you want me to.”

Mellie paused in the act of removing the dishes from the table. She left the unused place setting in place.

“I mean, I know you don’t drive and …”

“Would you really?”

Mr. Johnson nodded.

Mellie kept herself from throwing her arms around the man only by her certainty that he’d be terribly embarrassed. While he patted Lissa on the shoulder and enjoyed her spontaneous hugs, he’d never touched her more than to shake her hand.

“Thank you, but I think we’d better stay here for when Harv calls. Perhaps he had to help someone, and maybe the phones are out.” How she wished she had a phone number for Harv, but he always called from a pay phone.
Why, oh why didn’t I insist on an emergency number?

Because you never insisted on anything
. The thought caught her by surprise. Harv had always been so good to her, hardly even making fun of her fears, the fears that plagued her through the nights, so bad sometimes
she woke up screaming. So bad that some days she felt frozen, unable to move, as if she’d turned to salt like that woman in the Bible.

She thought for a moment, trying to remember the woman’s name, but only Harv’s came to mind. He’d know the answer.
I’ll ask him when he gets here
, she promised herself.

“Can I go watch TV?” Lissa left off toying with her meat, giving her mother a pleading smile.

“One more bite of each.”

“Do I hafta?”

“Yes. You hardly eat enough to keep a mouse alive, let alone a little girl.”

“Kitty could eat it. She likes meat.”

“Pretend you’re Kitty and you eat it.”

Lissa propped her head on her hand and lined the remaining three out of five bites of meat across the top of her plate.

If your daddy were here, you’d eat without question. He’d be making you giggle, and the food would be gone before you know it. Why can’t I make you giggle and eat and …
Mellie cut off the thoughts and turned on the faucet to fill the sink and soak the dishes.

“I’ll bet Kitty would like to play with her toy, you know, the one I brought today.” Mr. Johnson winked at the little girl.

Lissa nodded and scooted from her chair.

“After you finish eating,” said Mellie.

She sighed and climbed back up. “Will you play too, Mommy?”

“After dessert. I promised Mr. Johnson a piece of pie.”

“Daddy likes cherry pie. That’s his fav’rit.”

“What’s your favorite?” asked Mr. Johnson.

“Ice cream.”

“Ice cream pie?”

“Ice cream doesn’t come in a pie.” She gave him one of her “silly grownup” looks.

“Sorry.” He leaned forward. “But my aunt Bertha used to make the best strawberry-and-ice-cream pie. She’d drizzle chocolate on top.”

Lissa got down from the table and stood next to their guest. “My mommy could make you a pie like that. She can make anything.” She leaned her head against his shoulder.

For a change Mr. Johnson didn’t bolt for the door. Instead, he rested his cheek on Lissa’s head. Mellie ignored the sheen of tears in his eyes and picked up Lissa’s still unfinished plate to scrape and wash.

An hour later, the dessert served and eaten, the dishes finished, Kitty entertaining the two in front of the television, and still an empty place setting at the table. Mellie leaned on the counter, propped on stiff elbows that compensated for shaking knees.
Lord, I know something has happened to Harv, or he would have called by now. What can I do? If only I had listened to him all these years and learned how to drive. Why did I let my fear get in the way?
She closed her eyes at the wrench in her midsection at the thought of getting behind the wheel of a car.

“Mommy, the mountain is ’rupting again.”

Mellie rushed into the living room and sank to the edge of the sofa.

“Nothing new.” Mr. Johnson nodded toward the screen. “Same as we heard before. Same pictures, too.”

“Nothing about the Toutle?”

“Flooding,” he said. “Six o’clock news might carry more.”

Mellie wrapped her arms around her knees. Surely Harv would be walking in the door any minute. She would reheat his dinner, and she and Lissa would sit together at the table and listen to all his news, told around bites and chewing and nodding his approval at her cooking his favorite
meal. She dug her thumbnails into the bed of her index fingers, anything to quiet the voices who’d only grown more insistent in her head.

“A cloud of ash has spread clear to Spokane and points east,” the announcer said, showing clips of ash-shrouded streetlights in Yakima. “Everyone is advised to stay home and inside. Breathing the ash could cause severe respiratory problems.”

Mellie watched until the end of the segment without any more real news. When Mr. Johnson stood up, she followed suit.

“My offer still holds.”

“Thank you, but I’m sure Harv will be calling any minute. Besides, I know you don’t drive after dark anymore, and …”

“I will if you want.”

Fighting the tears his kindness generated, Mellie sighed and nodded. What if Harv weren’t home by morning? They had that appointment with the doctor at eleven.

She bid Mr. Johnson goodnight and closed the door behind him, only to lean against it when her knees threatened to give way. Desolation crept around her, seeping into her pores, smothering, sucking the air from her lungs. The smell of fear drove her to the bathroom, where she turned the shower on, and, stripping, stepped under the hot needles. She pulled the band from her hair and tossed it in the direction of the counter.