Chapter Twenty-Nine
The threesome left Ponderosa as a few solitary snowflakes drifted their way to the ground. Confident they would reach the ranch without any trouble, Michael drove his truck at a leisurely pace. The red Ford headed down the highway which paralleled the foothills that sat impassively at the base of the Rocky Mountains. Forests and empty fields bordered the sides of the road. As the evening grew increasingly darker, Michael switched on his truck's headlights to light their way through the gloom.
Mirabelle sat in her seat by the passenger window, feeling confused. She looked out from the window at the shadowy figures of the trees flashing by her as they drove and frowned at them. "Why did he have to come back into my life?" she asked herself. Outside of the car, in the unformed murkiness, Mirabelle envisioned Edward's visage. He had meant so much to her, she recalled on a physical level--the memory of their relationship hit her in the stomach like a boxer's blow. "I loved him with all of my heart," she said to herself as she glared at the smiling image of him that floated somewhere between her mind and the darkness. "And he hated me and feared me," she continued as her confusion turned to anger then sadness. She wanted to cry and to strike out at the ghostly image in her mind's eye, at the memory of love that held her captive.
Mirabelle turned her head to look at the highway before them. In the ever darkening night, the strip of road before them remained empty. They seemed to be the only travelers for miles around on this Christmas night. Watching the little patch of lighted road before them disappear into the noir, Mirabelle found a tiny feeling of contentment amongst her mess of emotions. She had found a sense of peace at the ranch, a sense of belonging. For once she wasn't a misfit, somebody different. Everyone at the ranch was a character in his own right and Mirabelle respected them as they had respected her. She had at last found a place that felt like home.
"I don't think your family liked me," Joseph said to Mirabelle from the middle seat, interrupting her thoughts.
"Huh?" she blankly responded, unappreciative of being yanked from her ruminations.
"I got the feeling your family was uncomfortable around me," Joseph responded to her inarticulate querie.
"Oh, they've just never met anyone who was so different before, that's all," Mirabelle said with only half a presence of mind--the remainder being preoccupied.
"That's why I don't usually go into town," Joseph replied.
"Yeah," Mirabelle droned in reply, not really hearing what he had said.
"What was she going to do with her life, anyway?" Mirabelle began contemplating as she returned to her thoughts. One option was that she could go back to Edward. According to her mother, he had taken back everything he had said about her and perhaps now everyone would dismiss the whole "fireweeping" incident as coincidence, as well. Mirabelle took a moment to imagine herself married, living in luxury, with the man who claimed he loved her. Such a lifestyle, obviously, had its appeal over being a housekeeper at a ranch, she recounted... and she was getting older--she might be missing out on her one real chance to get married.
"The snow's picking up, Michael," Joseph said to him as the truck sped along the highway.
The snowfall had indeed begun to thicken. What had started as the odd flakes falling here and there had turned into a steady downfall of snow. The truck's headlights still extended to some distance down the road, but the increasing snow portended difficulties ahead.
"There's no turning back now," replied Michael.
For miles around their only companions were the desolate plains and forests, and the darkness of the night. Ranches and farms were few and far between along this stretch of the highway.
"And we should reach the ranch before things get too bad," Michael said and contended, "It isn't that far, after all."
Joseph nodded a silent reply in the darkness of the cab.
Miles of road disappeared into nothingness as the travelers remained, in the darkness, as quiet as the dead. The night had completely overtaken them and now as Mirabelle looked out of her window, all she could see was an inky blackness. A sombre mood arose to engulf her as she thought about her situation.
All she had ever wanted was for someone to love her--love her for who she really was. She knew she was anything but perfect. Mirabelle knew, now, that she would always be different: she couldn't change who she was without suffering from a schizoid split of the personality. "And what am I, really?" she wondered. A hopelessly immature woman who still wanted to believe in dreams? A ridiculous girl who fancied half-a-belief in magic and fairies? A fine example of the classically insane? A freak? A witch? A demon? A monster?
A sudden thickening of the snowfall forced Michael to slow his driving down, considerably. Visibility was reduced to about thirty feet in front of them and the snow that fell and that lay on the ground made it impossible for him to see the dividing line of the highway.
"Michael," said Joseph, concernedly, "We'd better pull over and stop. The snow's getting too thick."
"We can't stop in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a snowstorm," countered Michael, assuredly, "We have to keep going."
Mirabelle, unconsciously catching fragments of their conversation, was suddenly alerted to their alarming situation. With the sudden clarity of mind only grave danger can invoke, Mirabelle instantly shifted her attention from her internal to her external environment. Noticing the conditions, she said to Michael, "Michael, it's too dangerous to drive. We have to stop."
Michael turned his head to reply to Mirabelle, when...
"Michael, look out!" Joseph shouted as his hand reached for the steering wheel and turned it to the right, hard.
In the thickness of the falling snow, an oncoming car had lost its way and had drifted into the rancher's lane. Narrowly avoiding a fatal head-on-collision, the ranchers' truck veered to the right, off of the road. Michael slammed on the brakes in order to slow down the moving vehicle, causing the truck to unintentionally spin out of control amongst the piling snow on the road's shoulder. The snow caused the truck to slow down, but not enough for it to crash mightily into some trees that bordered the road.
The rear left of the truck hit the trees first, crushing and twisting its metal body. The resulting impact spun the front of the truck counterclockwise before it was stopped by the front left section smashing against another tree. Through some miracle of fate, the cab had been spared being struck in the impact.
A long time passed in the darkness of the night. The blowing snow increased to white-out conditions making the scene of the accident invisible to all. Not that anyone would have seen it: it being Christmas day most people were not traveling and few people would have ventured out in a storm, either.
Mirabelle was the first to regain consciousness. "Oh," she moaned as she gradually became aware of her body and what had happened. For a moment she stared at (if she could have seen them in the dark) the broken glass and the warped metal around her then carefully checked over her body from head to foot. Though bruised and bumped she was fortunate to find that nothing was broken and that she wasn't bleeding.
She turned and checked Joseph. He was unconscious but as far as she could tell was alright: from her touch she could tell that there was no blood on him and no part of his body was resting at abnormal angles. Mirabelle then reached over to check Michael. He too was unconscious. Blood trickled from a gash in his head and parts of the car's frame were pressed up against the left side of his body. After taking a few moments to regain full lucidity, Mirabelle began to shout at Joseph and Michael in an attempt to awaken them.
"Joseph!" she yelled into what she took to be his ear in the darkness. "Joseph!" she yelled again.
Joseph began to stir, then opened his eyes and stared unblinkingly, momentarily dazed.
"Joseph," Mirabelle said again, this time not so loudly, having felt his body move in the dark.
"What happened?" he asked as he was about to turn his head to look at her.
"Don't move your head," said Mirabelle to him. "We've crashed," she told him then asked, "Can you move the other parts of your body?"
Joseph attempted to move his arms and legs. "Yes," he told her.
"Are you bleeding? Is anything broken?" Mirabelle asked.
"No," Joseph said after examining himself.
"Good," said Mirabelle, "Now shout at Michael to try to wake him up, but don't move his body."
Joseph nodded then shouted at Michael. Michael, however remained unresponsive. Joseph said to Mirabelle, "He's unconscious."
Mirabelle nodded then said, "Does Michael have an emergency kit or gear in the truck?"
Joseph replied, "There's an emergency kit under your seat and there's some equipment behind the seats."
Mirabelle searched behind her and found her hands coming to rest on a large flashlight. She lifted it from the floor and placed it on her lap. With her flipping of the switch, the cab lit up in bright white light
Mirabelle and Joseph looked at each other. They had both seen better days but were both alright, as far as they could tell. They then looked at Michael. His grey-white hair was streaked a crimson red as blood flowed out of a gash on the side of his head. Joseph took out a handkerchief and put it on Michael's wound. Mirabelle reached under her seat and took out the emergency kit. Opening it, she took out a bandage and handed it to Joseph. Joseph wrapped the bandage around the handkerchief and Michael's head then tied it snug.
"Okay," said a ready Mirabelle, "Let's get out, then you get the equipment and I'll help Michael." She leaned forward to look at Michael and said, "I hope he's not seriously hurt."
Joseph nodded.
Mirabelle tried to open her passenger door but it wouldn't open. She then tried pushing out the smashed windshield.
"Don't cut yourself," admonished Joseph as he proceeded to help her.
"I'll be careful," replied Mirabelle. They pushed out the windshield and it fell onto the hood with a crash. Mirabelle then climbed out of the cab while carefully brushing away bits of glass from the hood. She turned to Joseph and said, "Pass out the equipment and I'll put it on the ground, then get out, and I'll help Michael."
Joseph nodded then began to hand her the equipment: a small axe, two blankets, a short length of rope.
"Do you know where were are?" Mirabelle asked him as she tossed the equipment on the ground.
"I think we're about ten miles from the ranch," Joseph replied while handing her the length of rope.
"Is there a farm or ranch near here?" asked Mirabelle.
"I think we're near an old abandoned homestead," answered Joseph, "I think we crashed somewhere on its property."
Finished handing her the equipment, Joseph climbed out of the cab. The below freezing temperatures and the bumps from the crash stiffened his movements, making him move like a tropical tree sloth. Mirabelle climbed back into the cab and examined Michael with the flashlight. His left arm and leg were broken. She said to Joseph, "Help me pull him out of the cab,"
Joseph climbed onto the hood and around the embedded tree trunk. Leaning forward and grasping Michael by his armpits, Joseph pulled him out of the cab. He dragged Michael onto the intact right section of the front of the car then rolled Michael onto his back on the hood. Mirabelle, gingerly stepping over Michael, then climbed out of the cab with the emergency kit and flashlight in hand.
"Find some branches to use as splints," Mirabelle told Joseph as she placed the flashlight and kit on the hood next to Michael.
Joseph nodded and went about searching the nearby ground. Mirabelle picked up the rope and, using the axe, cut several short pieces. As she waited for Joseph to return, she covered Michael with the two blankets to keep him warm. A short while later, Joseph returned with two suitable branches. Mirabelle took them and, underneath the blankets began to tie them to Michael's left arm and leg with the short pieces of rope.
"Where's the homestead?" Mirabelle asked as she continued splinting Michael's limbs.
"Just beyond this hedge, if I'm right," Joseph indicated further into the trees with his chin.
"How are we going to bring Michael?" Mirabelle questioned Joseph.
"I'll carry him," answered Joseph. Fortunately for him, Michael was not a big man.
Mirabelle did a final check on Michael's head bandage then moved aside. Joseph stepped up to the side of the truck and hoisted Michael (still wrapped in the blankets) onto his shoulders. Mirabelle put the rope over her shoulders, then picked up the axe, kit, and flashlight. She walked into the hedge of trees with Joseph closely behind her.
Mirabelle and Joseph slowly picked their way through the trees in the direction of the hoped-for homestead. The trees sheltered them from the snow, but the bone-chilling cold stabbed at their bodies like a dull knife. As they came out of the trees the snowfall lightened and they could make out the shadowy form of a run-down shack a hundred yards ahead of them, across an empty field. They trodged through the snow-ladened field and blowing snow, finally making their way to the door of the homestead. Mirabelle opened the door, walked in, and dropped her equipment on the ground (except for the flashlight). Joseph followed her in, lowered himself to his knees, and gently placed Michael on the wooden floor.
As the storm outside returned to its previous ferocity, the freezing winter winds entered through holes in the dilapidated homestead, making the shelter little better than being outside.
Joseph opened the emergency kit and found a candle. He lit it with a match from a box of matches in the kit then said to Mirabelle, "See if you can fill in those holes with something. I'm going to walk around the cabin to see if there's any wood around. We have to start a fire or else we'll freeze to death." He handed the candle to Mirabelle, took the flashlight, then headed out the door.
Mirabelle readjusted Michael's blankets then went to work searching for material to fill in the holes. She took what odds and ends were left in the cabin (a old tin can, the tattered remains of a mattress, a few old rags) and began to fill the holes in the walls. As she did so she looked around. In the tiny homestead, there was a kitchen, the main living area with a fireplace, a small empty tool room, and a very small bedroom. Having filled in the holes as best she could, Mirabelle returned to Michael and checked on him.
Joseph opened the door and carried in some questionable-looking logs. He said to Mirabelle, "There's a woodpile outside of the cabin but most of the wood is rotten. This is all I could find." He dropped the logs by the fireplace.
The winds howled outside as the blizzard reached its full intensity. Beyond the light of the flashlight and candle, all that existed was a nether world of dark and cold chaos. Joseph set about starting a fire. Taking the remaining rags and leftover mattress material, he prepared to make a fire in the fireplace.
"This is all there is?" he asked Mirabelle about the scant materials before him. Mirabelle looked around and remembered the rope and axe. She handed them to Joseph. "These logs are very wet. If they don't dry out and start burning," Joseph told Mirabelle, "we're not going to make it through the night."
With the remaining matches from the emergency kit, Joseph lit the rags and mattress material which steadily began to burn. He then tossed the rope onto the rags and it quickly caught fire. Next, he placed the axe handle on top of the rope. It soon began to burn, so Joseph placed the wet logs on top of the growing fire. The logs started to dry out but did not, however, catch fire. "Mirabelle," Joseph told her, "I need more stuff to burn."
"There isn't any," she worriedly responded.
"Look around. There has to be something," he said.
Mirabelle searched the cabin but found nothing. The scraps that had remained in the cabin had gone into plugging the holes. She checked the bedroom again but it was empty. Only the mattress had been left. She returned to Joseph, empty-handed.
"Mirabelle, the logs haven't taken and the fire's starting to die," Joseph warned.
She looked into the emergency kit and took out the few remaining bandages. She handed them to Joseph, which he tossed onto the fire. The bandages ignited and logs continued to dry but they still did not catch fire.
"The logs are too wet," Joseph said with a frown, "The fire's going to go out. We're in trouble."
Mirabelle looked around. There wasn't anything left to burn.
"It's going out," Joseph said as he watched fire swiftly die away.
Mirabelle looked at Joseph. Their lives were all in danger and she had to do something, but what would Joseph think of her if he found out about her "ability"? She had grown really close to him and she couldn't bear the thought of him spiting her as did Edward.
"We're going to die," Joseph said calmly. He had been through enough in his life so he didn't have to bother with hysterics.
The fire died down to a few glowing embers that were fading fast.
It was now or never for Mirabelle and she steeled her will to see her through this trial, no matter what happened.
Mirabelle closed her eyes and dropped to her knees beside the fire. Quickly, she calmed herself and entered into that quiet place within her, somewhere in touch with her soul. She felt her consciousness reaching out to the fire. It was just a small, dying ember, now. Mirabelle's spirit flowed into that ember and as she felt herself become it, she began to rouse herself, desperately so that it would grow.
Though there was nothing left to burn, the little ember grew hotter and hotter, finally bursting into a flame. As the fire grew before her, Mirabelle's eyes began to fill with tears. She squeezed her eyes and the tears fell from her face onto her clasped hands that she held in her lap.
The tiny flame grew with incredible rapidity and came to encompass the logs in seconds. A few moments later, the logs caught fire. Mirabelle opened her eyes for a instant to look at the fire through tear-filled eyes before returning her world to darkness. The logs had at last taken and Mirabelle found her spirit retreating back into herself, separating her from the fire. Her tears continued to trickle down her face to fall on her hands until she finally opened her eyes.
She turned to look at Joseph. He stared back at her with his mouth wide open, stunned. Seeing this, Mirabelle ran from the living room into the bedroom and slammed the door. She fell to the bare floor, crying. She was a monster and she'd always be one. A monster no one would ever love.
Long minutes passed as Mirabelle felt pangs of sadness flow through her heart like a tempest's waves on the sea, then the bedroom door opened and Joseph walked in. He crouched down to the prostrate, crying Mirabelle and seated her upright. She said to him between her tears and gasps, "Leave me alone. I'm a monster."
Joseph lifted her head so that she could look into his eyes. Wiping the tears from her face, he looked deeply into Mirabelle's eyes and told her, "You're not a monster, Mirabelle. You're beautiful. Really beautiful."
Tears of sadness turned to tears of joy as Mirabelle realized she had found that one person, out of a world of millions, who could truly understand her and love her. She put her arms around Joseph and cried into his shirt.
Joseph wrapped his arms around Mirabelle and held her tight. He then kissed her on her head and said to her, "Come on. Let's sit by the fire. It's going to be a long night."
