Page 118 of Axe-identally Married
She’s a doctor man. She’s not gonna let someone suffer
Finn
I’ve got snowshoes. We’ll rescue you. Give us the address so we know where to look.
Jude
Good luck
Gus
Remember, wide turns so you don’t roll into a snowbank
Cole
Don’t tell Debbie, and please come find my body if necessary…
Once we’d donnedour helmets, I started the engine.
She settled behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. “Stay focused,” she said. “I don’t know what I’m going to find when I get there, but in this situation, the most helpful thing you can do is stay calm. Do you understand?”
I patted her arm. “I got you, wifey. Let’s go see this patient.”
The long, wooded drive was rough. The snow was deep and wet, which actually made for decent driving, but the wind was biting, and every cell in my body was screaming at the cold. With Willa at my back, though, steady and focused, pointing out intersections and navigating as I kept us upright, I eventually found my groove.
The roads improved as we made it into town. The plows had come through a few hours ago, meaning we were able to pick up speed.
We passed through town, the blizzard conditions and wild snow drifts making the lights hazy. When we reached Route 16, we headed up past the river toward the mountains. Jude lived up here, on a winding country road where people had acreage and privacy. It was beautiful but hard to reach in the snow.
I slowed as the road forked to ensure I remained in control, and from there, the path narrowed, making it difficult to see.
When Willa squeezed my arm and pointed to the right, I eased forward slowly, wiping my visor with my sleeve. My arms were coated in wet snow, but I ignored the chill and pushed forward.
We drove by several cabins and a few larger homes before finding a small cape in a clearing.
I got as close as I could to the front door, then killed the engine. Willa hopped off the back, unlatched her bag, and jogged through the snow without a word. The drifts were knee high for her, but she wasn’t deterred.
Kara Mosely was a small woman who’d graduated a year or two before us. She worked at the post office and her husband, Jack, was a crane operator for Gagnon Lumber. We’d played hockey together in high school. I’d always liked the guy.
The instant she opened the door, it was clear she was in distress. Despite the frigid temps, she was sweating and shaking.
“Blood,” she said. “There was a lot of blood.”
Willa rushed toward her and guided her to a chair. Once she was settled, my wife dropped to her knees, and as she took her pulse, she asked Kara to describe her symptoms.
Wearing a mask of calm, Willa looked at me. “Glass of water.”
I hustled to the kitchen without a word and searched the cabinets until I found a glass. I filled it to the brim and carried it back to the living room with shaking hands.
“I’m only thirty-four weeks,” Kara cried.
“I know. And it’s going to be okay. Let’s talk about the last twenty-four hours. Tell me every single thing you felt. Then I’ll examine you.”
“My back.” Kara moaned, doubling over.
“Okay, I’m going to examine you, and we can talk through it all.” Willa shot me a look that I took as a silent request for privacy. So I snagged the bag from the foyer, then took her coat from her and moved back out toward the front door to hang our gear to dry.
As I was untying my boots, Kara moaned. That poor woman. She looked so relieved when Willa walked in the door. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer that she would be okay.
