The Long Road Home. Mary Monroe Alice

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СКАЧАТЬ space was crammed with more baskets filled with corn, potatoes, and onions. In the front of the store, the few shelves were crammed with dry goods, and in the rear of the store stood rows and rows of dusty alcohol bottles. Nora wrinkled her nose as dust tickled it. She wouldn’t find everything she needed here, but she’d find enough to make do. The wooden floors creaked as she crossed them but they were well swept. A plastic mat covered the grayed wooden counter, and on it sat a shiny nickel-plated cash register with the drawer half open.

      “Hello,” Nora chirped.

      The old woman behind the counter gummed her lips a moment and gave Nora a thorough once-over. “’Lo,” she replied.

      The woman was no one Nora had ever seen before. It appeared no more talk was coming, thank heavens. Nora wasn’t up to questions yet. She cut a swath through the store, grabbing quickly. Coffee, eggs, milk, bread, and she was done.

      “Thank you. Bye.”

      “Yeh-up.”

      If she shopped there daily for the next ten years, Nora doubted she’d ever get more of a response than that. Vermonters weren’t a chatty group.

      At last she made the final turn by the marshy pond. The car veered off the paved road and rumbled along a dirt town road, not fit for tourists. She stretched out her cramped legs and arms and slowed to a crawl. The meadows were on a higher plain than the road and were separated by a low stone fence bordered by pine, maple, and apple trees. She began searching for something—a barn, a tree, a pond—anything familiar.

      She passed the Johnston house, her nearest neighbors. The small cape with pale green asphalt siding appeared to be slipping down. Its sills were sloped, the front porch leaned, and there was chokecherry now where there used to be flowers.

      The house was close to the road but she passed without stopping. She was too near her final destination to stop for hellos. The vista opened up and she smiled seeing Skeleton Tree Pond, acres of fresh spring water so cold Mike swore it could stop the heart. She felt the first prickle of excitement along her neck.

      The bumpy road curved around the lower barn where sheep stood in small clusters. In the field beyond, fifty, maybe more, lazily chewed in the sun. They raised their white faces as she passed, ears pricked. Nora smiled again, feeling an instant bond with the gentle creatures.

      She was on her own land now. Four hundred acres, most of them vertical, all of them green. She was surrounded by green, interspersed now with the oranges, reds, and golds of an early fall. A few yards ahead she spotted the pair of marble monoliths that signaled the foot of her private road. The stones blended in with its surroundings, so only a careful eye could spot the entry. Mike had wanted to build an imposing brick gate, but Nora had persuaded him that, at least in Vermont, nature should prevail.

      She made the turn and slowed to a stop. Her road curved gracefully and disappeared behind a small hill, but Nora wasn’t fooled. She knew that beyond that hill the pastoral road made the grand prix seem like child’s play. It turned and twisted sharply and inclined straight up, making it a hair-raising trip in spots where the gravel gave way to dirt.

      The unanswered question was: How was the road? Did Seth put down the gravel? Did the rain wash out gullies so deep a tire could get caught? Why hadn’t she stopped at the Johnstons’? Even now she could back up and travel back down the road.

      Something inside of her resisted. A new independence told her to handle it herself. She was tired of asking for help. Sooner or later she’d have to deal with this road and sooner came now.

      Gear in first, she let the clutch up and pressed the accelerator. On up she went, past the hill, past berry bushes long since picked clean by the birds, around big rocks that had lost hold and fallen to the road. Leaf-laden branches arched low, brushing the windshield as she passed and giving off an eerie squeak. Then the road began to incline steeply and the gravel bed grew thin. Nora pressed the accelerator a tad, scuttled up twenty yards and then felt the wheels slip.

      Her knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. Her foot pressed the accelerator, yet her car slid backward down the steep dirt road. Pushing the pedal to the floor, she leaned far forward and whispered, “Go, go.”

      The Volvo whined as its wheels dug to dirt, spitting gravel and swinging its rear across the narrow road like a wild bronco. She headed straight for the steep bank. Nora slammed on the brakes.

      Nausea swept over her as she shifted her gaze from the steep road ahead to the shallow cliff beside her. Unable to move forward, terrified to slip backward, she was in limbo. “What do I do? What do I do?” she muttered in a litany as she laid her head against the wheel.

      There was no reply. She was very alone. In the density of the forest surrounding her she sensed the presence of animals—crouched and watching. Squirrels, deer, porcupines, bears, and scores of others she couldn’t even identify. She heard every snap of a branch in the uneasy quiet. Each call of a wild bird seemed to say, “Go away. You don’t belong here.”

      “Damn you, Mike!” she swore as she hit the steering wheel with her fist. A September wind caught the curse and carried it across the Vermont mountains. The echo diminished into a menacing breeze that floated through the car like the whisper of a ghost. She shuddered and closed her eyes.

      Why curse Mike? It was childish—and too late. She got out a short laugh. Mike never got stuck here. He had skidded on this same road, but instead of cowering as she was, he’d grind into first gear and will that heap of metal up the mountain. Only once he didn’t make it, and that was when the snow was so deep even the tractor couldn’t get up to the house. Nonetheless, he had sold the car as worthless.

      “Well, there’s no Mike now,” she blurted out as she raised her head. “This is it. Nora MacKenzie. Your first test. There’s no turning back. Home is ahead.”

      She let out a ragged breath as reason took over. With a thrust of determination, she shifted into first then slowly, with ease, let out the clutch.

      “Come on, you hunk o’ junk,” she said. The tires spun, whined, and slipped back a few inches. Nora bit her lip and fought the temptation to hit the gas. Instead, she yanked the wheels away from a dirt patch. With a jerk, the tires caught on the firm roadbed and lurched forward.

      “Go, go, go,” she crooned as the metal beast struggled up the steep incline and slowly rounded the final curve.

      With the care of a captain in shallow waters, she turned the wheels away from the loose patches of gravel and rode the crest. At last, the high-pitched drone of the engine lowered as the incline flattened and she emerged from the tunnellike foliage into the light of a clearing. She hooted triumphantly.

      Ahead, perched high on her mountain overlooking the Vermont mountain ranges, was a sunlit terrace. And standing proudly in its center was her house. Nora’s heart swelled when she spied the peak of the redwood and brick structure looming high above the purple heather. Next appeared the large, angular windows divided by a mammoth beam and lastly, the broad wooden deck that stretched like a smile across the breadth of the house. Nora couldn’t help smiling in return.

      Pulling up in front, she danced her fingers along the wheel. She couldn’t wait to get out of the car. She yanked on the brake and scrambled out. The air was cooler that high up and its pine-scented breezes caressed her cheeks. She inhaled deeply, tasting its sweetness. Sporting a triumphant grin, she stretched her arms wide to take into her soul the majestic Vermont mountain range, blanketed now in a homey patchwork quilt of greens, purples, reds, and oranges.

      Her СКАЧАТЬ