Blue Ridge Breakdown, page 2
"So, Grandma Eloise," she began, "tell us more about Burt. Are you in love?" Anna made a kissy face.
Everybody giggled. Eloise was obviously caught off guard, and her face blushed a shade deeper than the red in the wine that she sipped.
"Oh, well, Burt is a very kind man," she stammered, a smile starting to spread across her face. "He has a wonderful way with animals, as you all know. It's quite remarkable, really."
Madeline laughed under her breath watching her mother try to navigate this unexpected question. "I think he has a way with more than just animals. I seem to remember at the park that he had a certain way of charming my mother, as well," she teased.
"It's good to see that you're enjoying your new life, Eloise," Brady said, with a gentler tone. "I've always said that Jubilee has a way of bringing people together. Old Burt's been at that park for as long as I can even remember, taking care of the animals. He loves to feed the squirrels and the birds, and it's nice to see that he is getting some companionship, too."
Eloise smiled broadly. "It's been a very pleasant surprise. Life in Jubilee is full of those, it seems. Burt has been able to show me some of the best spots at the park. He's told me stories about his youth, about the town. It's truly been lovely," she said.
Jasmine leaned forward. "It sounds like there might be some romance in the air for you, Eloise. Jubilee is a magical place, isn't it? First Madeline and Brady. Now you."
Eloise waved her hand. "Oh, I don't know about all that. I'm pretty old for romance."
Brady winked at her. "You're never too old for romance, especially in Jubilee."
CHAPTER 2
Ava had never seen such thick snow. The flakes looked like giant cotton balls as they fell from the sky, obscuring her view of just about everything. The snowstorm seemed to be intensifying, and she wrapped her arms around herself tightly, staring out the windshield.
She had to find her dog. It was the only comfort she had these days, but the world around her had turned into an unrecognizable landscape. Everything was white on white. She couldn't even make out the trees anymore.
Still, she couldn't let Millie be out there alone. If she died out in the forest, then Ava wanted to be right next to her. She stepped out of the truck one more time.
"Millie!” she yelled, her voice cracking as she shouted. It was like she was yelling into a vacuum. There was nothing there, yet everything was there. Her breath formed clouds of vapor that dissipated quickly, as if the cold air sucked them up.
She walked from one side of the truck to the other, looking into the dense forest, hoping that she would see her dog running toward her like one of those emotional commercials where a soldier returns home, but no such luck.
The cold was biting at her face, and the wind was whipping through her minimal clothing, finding every little gap to chill her skin. She realized tears were streaming down her reddened cheeks, and it felt like her teardrops were freezing to her skin. Panic and fear started to rise within her, not only for her own safety, but for Millie's. She knew her dog was not equipped for these kinds of harsh conditions. After all, she enjoyed sitting on her fluffy pillow at home right next to her mom, Ava, while she worked. Boxers weren’t known for a lot of body fat, and Millie was lean. She had no padding to keep her warm for long. Every passing minute increased the danger for both of them.
Ava called out one more time, her voice becoming desperate, "Millie, please girl, come back!” But the storm seemed to swallow up her pleas, leaving her feeling like she was more isolated than she'd ever been in her life. Like she was the only person on earth.
She stood there for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest, and listened for any kind of sound she could hear over the howling of the wind. There was nothing. There was no movement in the forest, no barking, just the relentless storm that didn't seem to care it had swallowed up her dog. After a few moments, she realized that her search was futile, and that she was at great risk if she stayed outside any longer. If she let herself pass away in the snowy depths beneath her, then her dog certainly wouldn't survive.
Ava's survival instincts finally kicked in. She knew that she needed to preserve what little body heat she had left, and being outside in the middle of the storm was making her tired. She looked one more time out into the white abyss, hoping that Millie would be standing there, wagging her tail, ready to run back to the truck. No such luck.
Ava turned and went back to her truck. She shut the door quickly, as she fumbled with the handle to get in. Once she finally managed to get inside, the truck was relatively warm, but it was a small comfort against the cold that had now settled into her bones. She slammed the door shut, stopping the wind from coming in, but not the sound of her own sobs.
She sat in the truck surrounded by the snow, which was something she used to think was so beautiful. Not anymore. It felt like a death sentence. She felt such a profound sense of helplessness. She had always considered herself to be such a good dog mom, but she had let Millie run off into the forest during the worst snowstorm she'd ever seen.
She wrapped her arms around herself again, trying to generate some kind of warmth, rubbing her upper arms as fast as she could. All she could think about was Millie. She had such turmoil inside of her when she had driven up the mountain in the first place, and now that was just intensified. As the snow piled up on her truck even more, she leaned her head against the window, the cold glass against her skin a harsh reminder of her reality. She sent up a silent prayer for Millie's safety and for her own. She thought about the bond they had, and she hoped to one day see her sweet little face again. But right now, all she could do was hope and try to survive.
It is interesting that when you're in a life and death situation, time seems to pass in a different way. Like you can't tell whether it's been a few minutes or a few hours. That's what Ava was finding as sleep tried to wrap itself around her with its seductive and dangerous lull.
In some moments, she would find herself in a state between dreaming and awake. She’d imagine things that weren’t there, or maybe they were? It all felt so surreal. Sometimes, it felt almost peaceful, and it was those times that scared her most.
It got darker and darker outside. She had never been to the Blue Ridge Mountains, and certainly not stuck on the side of one of those mountains, but the darkness here was something like she'd never seen. She was used to the city with streetlights and cars honking. There was no sound here except for the howling of the wind, and there was certainly nothing to look at.
She couldn't see anything. She was just sitting in complete and total darkness like she was underground in some kind of cave. Her fuel gauge had been on empty for a while now, and the last of the engine's warmth had dissipated into the frigid air that was surrounding the truck. She knew that if she fell asleep now under these conditions, that she would not wake up. The exhaustion from the emotional turmoil in her life the last few days mixed with the physical chill outside made it very hard to stay awake. It made it very hard to want to keep going. After all, did she even have any hope?
There was nobody around. No houses, no other cars had passed. She couldn't move out of her small little space. There was nowhere to go, no one to ask for help. Maybe she should just realize that this was the last day of her life, maybe the last hour.
Her thoughts drifted from the immediate need to survive to thinking about the people who had shaped her life. Maybe this was that thing where your life flashes before your eyes right before you die. Although, she’d thought it would be a much quicker thing. When someone said flashed, she assumed it was a very quick little video, and then you were gone. This seemed much slower.
She thought about her mom who had always been strong and resilient. Ava could hear her voice, a soothing presence in the midst of the storm. "You're stronger than you know," her mom would say in a situation like this. Ava tried to hang on to that.
The thought of her mom finding out about her current predicament made her feel so regretful. The choices that she'd made in the last few months were not something her mother was proud of. She'd tried to warn her several times, but Ava didn't listen, and now she felt terribly sorry that her mother was going to hear about her passing away alone on the side of a mountain without even her dog sitting beside her. Her mother had always tried to teach her not to run away from her problems, but to stand up and face them.
Instead, Ava felt terrible that she had done just that. Run away. Not faced anything. Tried to get out of the situation by avoidance, which had been her pattern for as long as she could remember. Although, she wondered what other people would’ve done when they realized they were trapped in a situation like hers. Running had seemed the only way to survive and have any chance at a normal life.
Then she thought about her dad, who had been gone since she was seven years old. He had passed away in a work accident all those years ago, but he was never truly absent from her life. She had memories of him that were a mix of very vivid moments, and then the idealized image that one tends to create when they've lost someone so soon. He had been her hero, the man who could do no wrong in her eyes, and no other man had ever lived up to him. Ava remembered the way that he would lift her onto his shoulders and make her feel like she was on top of the world.
She thought if he was here right now, that he would be disappointed in her, in these decisions that had led to this moment. The moment that she was probably going to leave this world. She could almost hear him, although she didn't really remember his voice exactly. He would chide her gently for not thinking things through, for letting fear dictate her actions and put her in such a dangerous situation.
Ava believed in heaven, and she hoped she was going there. Maybe she’d get to see her dad again. That was a small comfort, but it was something to hold on to right now.
The reality of the situation, the running away from a life that felt more like a prison than a choice, from a future that terrified her almost as much as the storm outside, was a weight that she couldn't shake off. She had thought she was doing the right thing by saving herself from making a mistake that was too big to undo. But now she was rethinking that decision. Maybe she should have just gone through with it. Maybe she should have just settled. She wondered if this running away had been worth it.
She blinked away the tears as she stared out into the darkness. The thought of her mom receiving news of her disappearance or her possible death, or having her own father's memory tarnished by her final, stupid, reckless decision was so painful that it enveloped her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered into the darkness. An apology her parents would never hear, of course, and maybe an apology to herself for ending up in this situation.
She tried to summon some resolve to survive, to not let this be the end of her story, but it felt like a flickering candle that was slowly dying. She tried and tried to try to stay awake, to fight against the sleep that was trying to take her. She forced her eyes open as much as she could. She didn't want to give up just yet, but she was starting to lose her resolve.
Madeline had never seen such a snowstorm. As the snow swirled around outside and she looked out the window to the winter wonderland beyond, she saw Geneva wrapped in a thick woolen shawl being careful about her steps coming down the driveway. She couldn't believe Geneva was walking out in this snow.
She swung the door open and noticed that she was carrying a large, steaming pot of what was probably her famous vegetable soup. As she got closer to the front door, Madeline could smell the aroma and the promise of comfort and warmth.
"What in the world are you doing out here, you crazy woman?” Madeline said laughing.
Geneva chuckled under her breath. "I've lived in these mountains my whole life. Don't you think I can navigate a little snow?"
Madeline took the pot from Geneva. "I don't think this is a little snow. Get inside before you freeze to death."
Geneva waved her hand, like walking out in the snow was nothing. "I wouldn't miss hanging out with all of you during this snowstorm for anything. Do you think I want to sit over there all by myself?"
"Well, we're glad you're here," Brady said, walking over and giving her a hug. "I would've hated to have seen you frozen like a Popsicle laying out in the driveway."
She laughed, "I wouldn't have frozen. I had a nice hot pot of soup. I thought I would bring it over because there's no better way to ride out a snowstorm than with our bellies full."
Madeline's kitchen soon filled with the savory smell of Geneva's soup. She got out several bowls and started filling them up for everybody. They all settled at the kitchen table with their bowls of steaming soup in front of them and some leftover cornbread that Madeline had. Nothing felt more comforting than a moment like this. Looking out over the Blue Ridge mountains, which were covered in snow, watching huge flakes fall.
The only way that they could even see the mountains was because the moon was so bright tonight, but it was still quite dark out in the woods.
"I still can't believe you would come over here in the pitch black darkness," Madeline said.
"Again, I've been here my whole life, and you live right next door," Geneva said shaking her head, "You're too dramatic. I think it's because you're an author."
"Well, next time it'd be great if you would just give me a phone call just the same. We could have come helped you."
Geneva stopped eating and stared at her. "You're treating me like I'm an old woman, and I'm not an old woman."
Madeline's mouth dropped, "I didn't mean to sound like I was saying….”
Geneva started laughing. "Oh, I'm just messing with you. I am an old woman. That much is obvious. I see myself in the mirror every morning. But what I'm trying to say is that I'm not an invalid. I can handle things."
Eloise spoke up. "I know these young people think that we can't do things, and we can do things."
Madeline looked at her. "Excuse me, but didn't you arrive at my house just a few weeks ago because you couldn't do anything due to knee pain and needing surgery?"
Eloise shrugged her shoulders. "I could have gotten help if I wanted to. Maybe I just wanted to come see my daughter."
Madeline rolled her eyes and then laughed. "Okay, let's just say that's the truth.”
“Ladies, ladies," Brady said, holding up his hands. "This is a nice moment. Let's not ruin it by getting into an argument."
Madeline looked over at him, "We're not getting into an argument. We're just being silly. That's all." Once everybody was finished eating their soup, Madeline felt like she didn't want the evening to end. "How about a game? Something to keep our minds off the storm?" She walked over and pulled a board game off the shelf.
"Nobody wants to play a board game," Eloise said.
"Well then, what kind of game do you want to play?"
"I don't know. Something where we don't have to think a whole lot. It's too cold to think.”
“Mom, sit by the fire if you're cold," Madeline said pointing. Eloise walked over and sat on the end of the loveseat that was closest to the fire. “Let me see what other kind of game we might can play," Madeline said, walking over to her shelf.
Brady walked up behind her and put his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "What do you think about your first Jubilee snowstorm?"
She tilted her head slightly to look at him and smiled. "I think it's the most fun I've had in a long time."
The relentless howling of the wind had become the only constant in Ava's world. She felt like she was about to freeze solid as she huddled inside of her truck. Darkness had descended over the mountain hours ago, the only light the occasional glimpse of the moon through the trees.
Her gas had long ago run out and with it, the last bit of warmth that she had. Her eyes were heavy, like big pieces of ice, with exhaustion and defeat. They kept fluttering closed, and she could feel her consciousness teetering on the edge.
There was a part of her that just wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep. It would be a peaceful death, she supposed. But it was then, just in that little bit of awareness that she still had, that she saw the distant glow of something piercing through the white expanse around her. A bright reflection in her side mirrors.
She blinked several times, disbelief mingling with a flicker of hope. "Oh my gosh, is this it?" she said to herself. "Is that the light that I'm supposed to go toward? Do I have to get out of the truck to actually go toward the light? I don’t see my grandparents… Where are the angels?”
She just kept whispering these things to herself, half expecting an answer to come and half hoping for some kind of miracle. The light got brighter and brighter, cutting through the fury of the snowstorm, and then she realized it was right behind her truck. She squinted against the brightness, wondering if she was dreaming or about to go to heaven. She really couldn't figure out what it was.
Before she could think too much more about it, her truck door swung open, and a figure emerged from the blizzard. This man seemed to look like the very essence of strength and safety. He was tall, had the broadest shoulders she'd ever seen, and was cloaked in a very heavy jacket that did little to conceal his powerful muscular build beneath. His face was framed by a beard that hinted he spent his days in the wilderness. He looked concerned, yet determined.
But it was his eyes that she noticed the most. They were clear blue and steady underneath the brim of his snow dusted hat. They captured her attention, his piercing gaze that seemed to see right through the storm and right through her. All she could compare him to was a modern day lumberjack or some kind of hero carved out of old tales where strength and tenderness could coexist effortlessly.
He said nothing, but reached in for Ava, his large hands gentle but firm as they literally scooped her out of the confines of her frozen truck. The warmth of his grasp enveloped her like an electric blanket, chasing away the chill that had seemingly seeped into her bones. He carried her toward the light, his Jeep she now realized, and she couldn't help but feel as though she had been taken from the jaws of death.
