Chapter Eight

Calls to and from the doctor had not been encouraging, and then around noon, the phones went dead. Within an hour the power went out. Before long, their father came downstairs and grabbed his coat and a fresh cup of coffee.

As he slid on his boots he looked at Eric. “Going to get the generator running. Go sit with your mother.” His face was strained with worry.

Outside the winds were howling and the snow was coming down nearly sideways. Eric tried to watch his dad from the upstairs window, but before he turned the corner of the house he was already hidden by the storm.

The storm seemed to be agitating Timmy too. The worse the winds howled, the more he tossed and turned, and the more he cried out in his sleep.

He suddenly bolted upright in bed, eyes staring wide. “Make it stop! Please, make it stop.” The raspy yell ended in a raspy whisper. He collapsed back onto his pillow and despite the coughs which shook him, he was instantly back asleep.

His mother cried quietly into the afghan that she had wrapped around her shoulders.

Awkwardly, Eric went to her and put his arm around her shoulders. “It’ll be okay.” He told her, though he wasn’t sure he believed it himself.

After a while, the lights flickered then stayed on. The generator was working.

Eric heard the kitchen door slam and his father’s footsteps on the stairs. He gestured to Eric to follow him, so he tiptoed out of the room. His mother had gone into a light doze. He met his father on the stairs.

“I’m going to hook the plow to the tractor and see if I can clear the road to the highway. We need to get the doctor here or get Timmy to the hospital.”

“I know how to do that, Dad. Let me try.”

Silence greeted his suggestion. He waited what seemed an uncomfortably long time.

“We’ll take turns. You go hook up the plow and then come get me.”

Eric nodded, then went to get his jacket and boots on before heading back into the freezing cold.

His father followed him to the kitchen. “While I was out I ran a rope between the porch rail and the barn. If the snow gets so bad you can’t see, grab the rope and follow it.”

Eric nodded, pulled his hat on and went to the barn.

The wind had died down a bit, so he was able to see the barn’s outline across the yard. It made him nervous to see so little, so he reached out and touched the rope, keeping his hand on it until he was safely to the barn door. From there he broke a new path to the side door where the tractors sat idle.

It took a while, but finally he got the plow attached to the front of the tractor and started it. While the engine was warming up, he struggled to open the wide doors open to drive out. The snow drift in front of the door was four feet high in spots and looked like a mountain. This would take a while.