Chapter 4: Fire and Ice
Another two days passed by in the house, nearly as quickly as the first two. Mort and I took to showing everyone around the town at intervals, when they were done sleeping, or eating, or being lazy on their vacation. While my brother in law worked, Mort managed to play father to Jake and Emily as well, which is usually what he did when they came to visit. He took them down to the river bank at the edge of the property and showed them how to fish through the ice, which they loved, and even drove them to Emerson's Ranch down at the end of our street to go horseback riding.
Sam and Kate had taken to their own personal sight-seeing for most of the time, where they indulged their natural artistic spirits and went to the local museums and galleries. I followed them to a few, but had already seen most of the work throughout town, so ended up sticking to the house most of the time, just taking care of everyone.
My parents had eased themselves into our simple habit of living, slowly I might add, but enough to at least suit me. They hadn't even brought up the money issue again, and I had a feeling it wasn't because I blew up at them, but because Mort had talked with them when I wasn't looking. He was always better at assuring them than I was. He had no bias of having grown up with them to stop him from telling them what the deal was or how he really felt.
Mort's parents on the other hand, were as easy to live with as anyone I'd ever known, even easier than him. His mom and I went to some of the small gift shops and markets in town on Thursday, where she bought out every bit of fruit personally for me.
"We have to make sure that baby comes out with a glow like yours."
She had smiled, touching my cheek in front of a cart of blueberries. I helped her fill two bags of them, wanting to say half a dozen things to her, but not really knowing where to start. I knew she was well aware of the relationship I had with my own mother, and how it was nothing like this at all.
"Jane," I began, tying off the second bag of berries and placing it the wicker basket. "I really don't know what I would do without you. I never had anything like this growing up."
She turned to me after examining a few pears and her eyes sparkled as if she might cry, but she grinned.
"Your parents are quite complicated folks."
"Yes." I agreed solemnly, almost with a sneer of regret that she was right. "And my mother only ever wanted to spend her time earning credit at Saks than to take me or my sister out for the day, anywhere. The only time anyone did anything with me was when I would visit my grandparent's on Tashmore. They were the closest thing I had to real parents, summer parents though I guess."
I heard her let out a short sigh, and I wondered if it was for me or the condition of the fruit. When she looked back up at me though, I knew.
"It's very sad you had to be raised that way. A child should be a part of their family, instead of just something that's tagging along. You and your sister missed out on what you're giving to Max and Madeline."
"Yeah…Mort and Sam were lucky to have you and Todd too."
She giggled at this and placed a bag full of pears into the basket.
"I don't know if they were lucky, I was quite a dictator when I wanted to be." She paused with a funny grin, as if she was thinking and then she glanced at me sideways. "Of course they were a couple of terrors."
I laughed out, "They still are." And we continued to hunt for fruit without saying much else. It wasn't until we got back in the car heading for home, when Jane leaned over from the passenger's side to pat my stomach.
"This baby is going to have all the attention we can give them. Don't you worry; it's coming into a wonderful place."
And that was when I began to cry for the first time that day.
The second time was when we got home and I went upstairs to take a nap, only to find a large manila envelope waiting for me in the middle of the bed. It read in bold, smooth Sharpie, Sunshine.
My middle name, the one I remembered disclosing to Mort through embarrassment the first night he came to my apartment. He was the only one other than my parents and Sydney who knew the complete connotation behind it, and the fact that at one point in the history of the world, before the money and the private jets and the boarding school for their children, James and Annie Hayden were cool people. The proof lied in my name always, although I loathed admitting it to myself sometimes.
I sat on the edge of the bed and opened the prongs of the folder, sliding out a thick packet of documents. There were a bunch of signed pages, details, numbers, dollar amounts, and it confused me. But when I looked at one of the last pages to see my grandparents' aged signatures, as well as mine and Mort's, and also the signatures of the two people who had bought the property a year after we came to North Carolina, I suddenly knew what it was, a chain of titles.
This seemed normal enough; probably just something he found lying around and wanted to make sure I put in a good spot, for safe keeping of course. And had I not flipped over to the final page of the stack, I imagine I would have moved to place the envelope into the safety box in our closet without a second thought. It was odd he hadn't done so already, but I didn't think about that, not until I saw the loose, freshly drawn up and added page at the back.
It was a settlement statement and new return title. Mort's signature was no more than hours old on the page as I ran my finger across the co-signer line and felt a tear coming down from the corner of my eye. There was a second line above his, for the official owner to sign. The legitimacy of the paper depended on my signature alone.
"Merry Christmas."
I looked up quickly to see him standing at the doorway of our room, spying in on me with that crooked smile of his.
"Mort, what is this?"
He walked in toward the bed slowly, running his fingers through his hair, same as he always did when he was nervous. Standing in front of me, his hands tapping lightly on my knees, he glanced into my lap at the papers.
"I wanted to get it back for you. That house should have never left your hands."
"You sound like my dad."
He twisted his brow down at me, not liking the comparison.
"I just think you owe it to your grandmother to keep the place. You worked so hard fixing it up that summer we met."
"You worked so hard on it." I argued with a smile and more tears, ones he quickly brushed away.
"I want you to have it again; I didn't like it being in someone else's possession. It's yours."
I shook my head as it tossed in his hands. "It's really sweet but--"
"But nothing."
"Yes, but something." I fought again. "Mort what am I going to do with it from here? The reason I sold it was because I couldn't keep up with it from so far away."
"Don't worry about it, I hired someone for that."
I tightened my lips and glared up at him.
"You deserve to have this piece of you back. Look at everything you've done for me…"
I wanted to force myself to be mad at him, to call the rightful owners of my grandmother's farm house and beg them to reconsider the extravagant number my husband had thrown at them. It was double what the house and property combined were even worth, no doubt just to get them to accept moving out. I wanted to be furious and run across the bedroom to throw the papers in the fireplace.
But when he looked at me with those eyes, the ones that said 'It's okay, it's alright to want it still', I found myself unable to do much else but wrap my arms around him and just breathe him in. I didn't know if this had all come from a discussion or an agreement he might have had with my father, and I didn't particularly care, because in the end, it was Mort alone who was willing to lay down the number with a dollar sign to get my grandmother's last gift to me back.
We stayed there, me in his arms, for what felt like an entire day gone by. He slowly whispered the minor details of the contract to me, explaining that we had to take the papers with my signature on them to Larry Bancroft in town by five; the man who had sold us our house here on the river. He had drawn up all of the statements the night before, disclosed the amount to the couple in the house on Tashmore, and faxed them to Mort that morning, just in time for him to give them to me.
I got up from the bed when I saw a flash of the alarm clock that read 3:55, deciding that I should head into town early just in case.
"You wouldn't mind if I did this alone, would you?" I asked him as he followed me into the bathroom, to watch as I brushed through my hair.
His reflection in the mirror was honest and sweet as he shook his head and replied. "If it's something you think you have to do on your own…"
"I would feel better about it. Unless you really wanted to come--"
He slid in behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist as I stood still combing through the tangled curls. I felt his breath hot on my neck and stopped moving completely, unable to think past it. Wet kisses were all I could concentrate on.
"No, you're right. You should do this yourself." He whispered.
"Swear you're okay with it?" I asked, turning around in his arms, desperate to have his lips on mine instead.
"Swear." He replied before landing hard upon my readied mouth. His lips warmed every bit of me that was shivering from the cold bathroom we stood in, taking the time just to taste me, I could feel this.
I pulled back eventually, straightened my shirt a little and then leaned up to his cheek.
"This means the world to me. Thank you."
My whisper must have radiated through him just by the sensation of his trembling arms around me. I laughed and did the same again with a kiss.
"I won't be long."
He smiled when I moved aside and walked out of the bathroom, with a single turn back before I made it clear across the bedroom and out of the door.
The trip into town was short and my business with our broker Jerry, even shorter surprisingly. He was a nice man, whom I'd greatly forgotten since we purchased the house, and I enjoyed working everything out with him. I signed enough papers to deprive a large city of oxygen for a week, and smiled after every 'I' in Rainey was dotted. The farm house was slowing coming back into my hands; the keys that the current owners had faxed overnight were getting closer to me with every line I signed. I could feel my grandmother coming back to me so strongly, and although it made me feel a little guilty, I was excited all the same.
When I finally finished and was leaving to return home, Jerry handed me the two gold keys and smiled as he helped me out of the door.
"Quite a remarkable man you've got for a husband, Mrs. Rainey."
I turned slightly in the grey shadow of the snowy sky around me to grin back at him.
"Yes…" I grasped the keys harder in my palm, feeling everything he'd given me. "I still can't believe he did all of this."
"Well believe it ma'am, a true Christmas marvel." He chuckled, his round stomach almost hitting me in the doorway. I giggled too and spun back on the heels of my boots to leave in the drifting snow. Before I made it to my car, I heard him shout out, "And don't let him get away from ya, darlin'!"
My smile must have been a mile wide as I clicked to unlock the car door, waving to him in agreement, "I promise I won't," and then quickly got inside to avoid the wet snow falling on my head. Jerry went back into the small building and I pulled away from the realtor's office at the edge of town, my index finger looped through the ring of the keys, squeezing them, just to make sure that it was all real and that the house was really back in our hands, my hands.
I waited until I was on the outskirts of town in the opposite direction, headed for home, until I dialed Mort, smiling the entire time I listened to the ringing. He answered on the third ring.
"Hey, babe. You all done?"
"I am."
"How are those keys feelin'?"
I held them up as I watched the icy road in front of me.
"Amazing. You're amazing."
He chuckled a little, "Nah. Just giving you a place to run away to when we get old, and you get sick of me."
I laughed softly and shook my head.
"I doubt that will ever be the case."
"Oh good." He laughed again. "Then we'll just use it for other things…"
I knew exactly what he meant.
"You really need to stop plotting how you're going to impregnate me next."
"Why? I like you pregnant."
"Fat?"
"Pregnant is not fat." I giggled a little and focused on the tight curve near Black Creek Road, the one I hated the most. He went on, "So when will you be home?"
"Just a few minutes." I heard a slight honk behind me and glanced into the rearview mirror to see a huge black SUV with its bright lights on, riding the back of my car. "If this asshole would get off my tail…"
"Easy out there, it's icy."
"I'm fine; I just wish he would go around me. I hate Black Creek."
I attempted to wave him off with a rolled down window and my sweater sleeve getting chilled from the snow darting through it. But whoever it was kept as close as he could get, flashing his lights a few times and revving up as I neared another tight curve. It was ridiculous, the nerve of someone, especially in that kind of weather, on a mountain. He probably wasn't from around here if he was acting like that.
I could still hear Mort in my ear. "I'll let you go so you can drive."
"No, I'm okay really. What's been going on at home since I left?"
He began to ramble about a few things, Sam and Kate taking the kids ice skating down the hill, my parents and his sitting around and discussing healthcare and boring stuff. I was trying to focus on all his words and keep my car moving easily around the curves as the guy continued to ride against my bumper, almost touching it a few times. It wasn't until I cleared the Creek curves and heard Mort say something about Madeline having cut her knee open on the ice pond, that I felt my car jerk forward with the pressure of the truck's revving engine.
"Shit!" I yelled with a screech, panicking as I turned my phone onto speaker and dropped it into its holder.
"What's wrong?" Mort asked, just as worried.
"This same guy, he just hit my bumper. He refuses to go around me."
"Rox, just pull off and let him go. Get the hell away from him."
"Okay."
I could hear the nerves in his voice the same as mine, and I slowly eased toward the shoulder of the mountain road where there was a parking area for tourist photo ops. But as I felt my car drift away from the road a little, I watched the blacked out SUV follow me down, slamming into my bumper a second time, even harder.
Mort could hear the crash from the speaker being on and shouted out, "What's going on? I told you to get off the road!"
"I did!" I yelled back, two hands steady but swerving slightly in the snow bank as I felt the SUV force my back bumper onto his front one as the truck shoved me through the parking lot. "He's following me…shit…he's pushing my car!"
"Speed up and get away!"
"I can't…the roads' too wet…"
And it was the moment I said it, the one single moment I even could concentrate on what was going on, that I felt the entire body of my car slide in a spindle like movement through the snow. The truck behind me had hit its gas suddenly, just enough to force mine into a spinning 360 toward the iced and rocky border of the road. I don't think I said any words as this was happening, I just kept screaming, and hearing Mort yelling out at me, begging me to stop the car that I could barely even feel anymore. It was as if it had a mind of its own, drifting far and sliding until I watched the front end crash into a high rift of snow.
That's when I felt like I was flying. I was flying. The car too.
In a side jolt, the entire car turned over and back into the middle of the icy road, and even then didn't stop until it had slid clear across the curve to the other side, the sound of the metal roof scraping on slick pavement blaring in my ears. I kept screaming even after the phone line went dead, even after all of the shattered glass of the windows around me covered my eyes and skin in a blur. I kept screaming even after I realized I couldn't move and that four large tires were screeching away from me on the ice.
And when I couldn't scream anymore, I thought of Max and Maddie, and cried for the third time that day until I closed my eyes against the pain.
