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NEW YEAR'S EVE
New Dresden, Wisconsin
Failures were like bread crumbs. A woman could, without much difficulty, follow them back through the dark fairy-tale forest of her life, noting the dead ends, the seemingly small mistakes, the hubris and lack of courage, the dearth of judgement, and eventually arrive at the primary failure which, without her knowing it, would inexorably become the fulcrum on which the rest of her life turned. In Laurie's case, at just eighteen years old, an epic failure of imagination had sealed her fate.
Light snow drifted across the highway as she sped toward town. The sky had been a bleak winter white all day. By tomorrow morning, according to the weather report, six more inches would be making life miserable for the New Year's Day revelers. Because the tires on her ancient Ford Windstar were almost bald, she hesitated to drive in this kind of weather, though because her husband hadn't answered his cell phone all day, she felt she had little choice.
This was one of Doug's many tests-the "If-You-Love-Me-You'll-Come-Looking-For-Me" test. She scanned the road ahead, squinting into the fading light. He could be anywhere-a restaurant, or more likely, a bar. He could have stayed late at work, although she wasn't sure what a forklift operator would do on New Year's Eve when everyone else at the lumberyard had left early. She silently prayed that the New Year's Eve dinner she was preparing wasn't turning into a burnt offering in the oven.
With only four miles left before she hit the outskirts of New Dresden, she slowed the van so she could scan the sides of the road for his gray Buick LeSabre. It was possible that he'd had car trouble. The cell phone service in New Dresden was hit or miss at best. The winter twilight made seeing difficult. Not even the headlights helped much, swallowed as they were in the expanse of white.
Laurie had bought a special German chocolate cake-Doug's favorite-at a local bakery on Saturday afternoon. They could ill afford the expense, and yet she needed this New Year's Eve to be festive. She also needed a gesture that would send the message that she still cared about him without her having to say it out loud. These days, words got stuck in her throat and, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't force them out. Just another failure to toss on the pile, she supposed. One day, if she kept living her life the way she had these last fifty-five years, she'd be able to climb up on top of that pile and touch the moon.
Gripping the wheel, Laurie watched a dim figure emerge from a patch of woods. "Doug?" she whispered.
Half limping, half stooped, the figure moved to the shoulder and sank down on one knee.
Laurie pulled over to the shoulder and jumped out, relieved to discover that it wasn't her husband. Long, dark hair obscured the woman's face. Bending toward her, Laurie reached out her hand. "Are you all right?"
The woman's left elbow was pressed hard against her side. "I need to get out of here."
"Are you hurt?" When the woman looked up, Laurie felt a moment of panic.
"Can you help me?"
Taking hold of the woman's free arm, Laurie pulled her to her feet, alarmed to see how much pain she was in.
"I need to get ... to a hospital."
"What happened? Were you in a car accident?" She didn't see a car.
They moved haltingly to the van.
Once they were back on the road, Laurie switched on the overhead light, sneaking looks at the blood dripping from the woman's nose and mouth; her disheveled hair; the blood on her hands; the wet, dirty, ripped right leg of her jeans. The closest emergency room was in Henderson. With only a twenty-dollar bill in her pocket and little gas in the tank, there was no way Laurie could take her there. Even if she could, this was a situation that called for caution. "Where does it hurt?"
"Everywhere."
"How did you get like this?" She tried to sound concerned, but mostly she was scared.
The woman leaned back and closed her eyes. "I can't quite ... it's ... all confused."
"Uh huh. But, I mean-"
"They brought me."
"They?"
"I ... I just need a minute. To pull things together."
Laurie decided not to press her, mainly because she felt she already knew the answer. She pulled the van into her sister-in-law's driveway a few minutes later. Hannah Adler was a doctor with a practice in Eau Claire, which was where she had her primary residence. Laurie tried not to be jealous, though it was often a losing battle. Hannah maintained an old bungalow in New Dresden to be close to the family.
Laurie guided the injured woman up the front steps and rang the doorbell. Hannah was in town because New Year's Day was a big family event, a command performance, dictated by Evangeline Adler, the family matriarch. When the door drew back, Hannah appeared in a sweatshirt, sweatpants, and slippers; a wineglass in her hand.
"Help me get her inside" said Laurie, maneuvering the woman through the doorway. If anything, the woman was more out of it now than she had been on the road.
The frightened look on Hannah's face matched Laurie's.
"Where can we put her?" asked Laurie.
"In the spare bedroom."
They helped her down the hallway and lowered her onto a double bed. While Laurie removed the woman's sodden boots, Hannah covered her with a quilt.
"What the hell's going on?" whispered Hannah.
"I found her like this about four miles out of town."
They exchanged worried glances.
"She's pretty confused," added Laurie.
"Good. I hope she stays that way." Bending over the bed, Hannah said, "I need to examine you. Does your head hurt? Are you dizzy?"
The woman searched the two faces gazing down at her, settling on Hannah.
Laurie held her breath.
"My ribs. On the left side."
"On a scale of one to ten, what's the pain like?"
"Eight."
Glancing back at Laurie, Hannah lowered her voice and said, "Probably bruised or broken ribs. She needs more help than I can give her."
"This is really bad."
Loud banging on the front door interrupted them.
"You expecting someone?" asked Laurie.
They raced back down the hall. Hannah parted the curtains in the living room. "It's Kevin and Doug. They look upset."
Grabbing Hannah's arm, Laurie said, "We can't let them in."
"They know we're in here. Your van is in the driveway."
"They did it. They took her out into the woods and beat her up."
"We don't know that."
"Who else would do it? Hannah, please. You know I'm right. If they find out we've got her in here, who knows what they'll do."
Hannah hesitated, then said, "I'll go out and talk to them. I'll tell them ... hell, I'll figure something out. While I'm outside, you get rid of her. You hear what I'm saying?"
"What about her pain?"
"Get rid of her. She's poison."
Laurie gave a solemn nod. Rushing back to the bedroom, she found the woman sitting up, head in her hands. "You've got to get out of here."
"What?"
"Come on. Put your boots back on."
Ducking into the bathroom, Laurie opened the medicine cabinet and searched through the prescription bottles for a painkiller. If nothing else, she could give her a bottle of ibuprofen, though that hardly seemed strong enough. When she found nothing, she noticed her sister-in-law's medical bag on the floor next to small oak cabinet. Opening it, she found a white paper sack stapled at the top. She ripped it open and scanned the front of the prescription bottle: "Endocet 325 milligrams," she whispered. "One to two tablets ever six hours as needed for pain." Perfect. She grabbed the cup next to the sink, dumped out the toothbrush, and filled it with water. Returning to the bedroom, she found the woman struggling with her second boot. "Good. That's good. You're not safe here." She handed the woman the pills and the glass. "Take them fast."
"What are they?"
"Painkillers. Come on. Quick, quick." It was beyond frustrating to watch the slow, labored effort. Laurie helped her to her feet and steered her out into the hallway, this time heading toward the kitchen at the back of the house.
"Who's yelling?" asked the woman, twisting her head around.
"Listen to me," said Laurie, stuffing the prescription bottle into the woman's leather jacket and then plucking her last twenty from her own pocket and tucking that in that as well. "When you get outside, go straight through the yard. Keep walking out to the road. Hang a right and the road will take you back to the highway. There's a truck stop about a quarter mile to the west-which means you go right again. Got that? You'll be able to see the lights. You can hop a ride to ... wherever someone's willing to take you."
"Okay," the woman said weakly.
"I know you're hurt, but you've got to run." Opening the back door, Laurie pushed her out, watching as she dragged herself through the back gate. Once the woman had disappeared into the darkness, Laurie shut the door and leaned against it. "Don't come back," she whispered. "Ever."
Copyright © 2015 by Ellen Hart
