Snow Bound Read online

  Later, measuring a chair for a slipcover, she glanced out the window, looking for the school bus, and noticed two strange figures coming slowly into sight, trudging down the unplowed road leading from the state park grounds. Which was strange, to say the least. And the way they looked! For a moment she thought they were two small black bears, they were so rough-looking.

  Mrs. Littlejohn was curious, and then uneasy. These days you never knew. People did such peculiar things. She was sorry now they’d not gotten another dog after their old bitch, Sara, had died. The closer the pair came, the odder they seemed. They were both bundled in rags, their faces dark, snow and frost clinging to their clothes and skin. The taller one had his frowsy head wrapped in a scarf, and was leaning on his companion. Mrs. Littlejohn had never seen anything like them. They reminded her of pictures she’d seen of wounded soldiers retreating from a battlefield.

  They turned at the foot of the driveway and came slowly toward her house. She hurried to the door and opened it, stepping out front. “Hello?” she called cautiously. “Hello … what is it? What do you want?”

  20

  YES, I KNOW IT’S A MIRACLE

  Tony’s hospital room was so crowded that there wasn’t space for another person to stand, but still they kept coming. His Aunt Irene, his Uncle Mike, and his three cousins were there. His sisters were all sitting on his bed. Flo was writing something on his cast. His mother was sitting by his side, stroking his hand. At the door, his father was shaking hands with people as they came. Uncle Leonard winked at him from the foot of the bed.

  There were flowers on the windowsill, and the telephone ringing with calls from relatives in Akron and Chicago, and his father’s other brother in St. Petersburg, Florida. “He’s all right … yes, he’s perfect except for his ankle … Yes, he lost quite a bit of weight, but other than that … Yes, I know it’s a miracle … We thought the worst these last few days.…”

  Following his mother’s whispered directions, Tony was sitting up for the people smiling and saying something to everyone. But after a while it was hard for him to focus. He let his head go back against the pillow and his mind drift the way it had so often when he and Cindy were trudging through the deep snows. Part of him was still there, in that other world.

  His Uncle Mike thrust his pale, heavy face close to Tony’s. “Did you see any big animals, Anthony, any bear or mountain lions?”

  “Just dogs, Uncle Mike.”

  “They must have run for their life when they seen you corning, Anthony,” his uncle said, nudging Tony’s father. “The Laportes would scare the bejesus out of anybody.”

  His father laughed. “You don’t think there’s another boy who could have done what my boy did.”

  Tony closed his eyes. The sound of the voices in the background rippled over him. “He’s tired … poor kid … we better go.” He heard his mother saying goodbye to the people until only his family remained. He opened his eyes. “Don’t go yet.”

  His mother and father sat down with him. His older sister remained, but the two younger girls went off to buy cokes from the machine. Alone with his parents, Tony felt a little awkward. He wanted to say something to them about getting into a rage over the dog and taking the car. “I’m sorry about the car. I really wrecked it.”

  “It was an old car,” his mother said. “We bought it for seventy-five dollars, so don’t worry.”

  “What about the tires and battery?” his father said. “They cost something.”

  “Oh, Fred,” his mother said.

  “I want to pay for it,” Tony said. “You tell me how much it costs, and I’ll pay it all back.”

  “How you going to do that, you crazy kid?” his father said. “We’re just glad you’re alive. So forget about the money and the car. I don’t know how you did it, in that weather for eleven days. How’d you keep from freezing?”

  Tony shook his head. He’d told them about the fires they’d made and the things they’d done to keep warm, but somehow he never got to say what he wanted to say about what those eleven days had really meant.

  The car—he could talk about that. He’d taken the car and wrecked it. Now it was up to him to make it good. They kept saying it didn’t matter, that having him home alive and whole was all they cared about. They didn’t understand that it did matter to him. When he’d taken the car he’d acted like a spoiled, punk kid. He wanted them to know he wasn’t that way anymore, but he didn’t know how to say it. He knew Cindy would understand. If she was here, she’d be able to explain it better.

  21

  THE LETTER

  Dear Tony,

  First of all, it was great talking to you on the phone and even greater getting your letter, although you are not much of a letter writer. Let’s be honest! “Hello, how are you, I’m fine, my ankle is mending okay …” is all right as far as it goes. But it doesn’t go very far. I want to hear from you, Tony. I want to know how you are, the real you, the inside you—do you follow me, old fellow? Sure you do.

  The best part of your letter was you saying you’d come visit me. Oh, do, do, do, Tony! I want to see you, I want to talk to you.

  It’s all changed, hasn’t it? They’re the same, but we’re not. None of them really understand. They think now that we’re clean again and they’ve fed us and looked us over, poked down our throats, taken our pulses, weighed and measured us—then it’s okay. We can just go back being the old Tony and Cindy. But it isn’t so.

  My father wanted to know about you, what kind of person you are, and how you behaved during the ordeal. That’s what he calls it. Ordeal is right.

  Wow, it’s great to be warm, isn’t it? And have Rice Krispies and toast with butter and a glass of real orange juice for breakfast. Tony, I’ve been eating like a pig all week, but I’ll never be as chubby as I was. And how about sleeping in a real bed with clean sheets, and taking a hot bath, and changing your clothes every day? And knowing that people are happy you’re here and keep coming around to look at you and kiss you and shake their heads. I didn’t know there were that many people who knew I existed, or cared.

  We nearly died, Tony. We could have, a number of times. We did a lot of dumb things, and a lot of good, smart things. Dad said we saved ourselves. I’m going to tell you how I feel about that—whether you want to know or not. (Of course you do, says Cindy wisely.) Listen, here’s the thing. Tony, we were born once to our mothers, as everyone is. But this time, we gave birth to ourselves. You know what I mean. You were there. You are my brother now, and although you hardly need any more sisters, you’re stuck with me for life.

  I wonder if I’ll ever be as happy as I am right now, as aware of everything. Every day has been so sharp for me, I’ve never been so aware of the color, the touch, the feel of each moment.

  Well, enough of Cindy’s blabbing. You come see me, brother. And yes, I’m coming to see you, too. Your mom wrote me a great note, which I’m going to answer next, and invited me to visit over spring holidays. Your little sister sent me a drawing. She sounds like a character I’m going to love. In fact, your whole family will probably end up on my list of all-time favorite people. And I hope my dad and I will stand high on your list.

  Lots of love from your fourth sister,

  Cindy

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  In 1944, as World War II rages across Europe, fifteen-year-old Jack Raab dreams of being a hero. Leaving behind New York City, his family, and his boyhood, Jack lies his way into the U.S. Air Corps.

  From their base in England, he and his crew fly twenty-four perilous bombing missions over occupied Europe. The war is almost over and Hitler near defeat when they fly their last mission—a mission destined for disaster. Shot down far behind enemy lines, Jack is taken prisoner and sent to a German POW camp, where his experiences are more terrifying than anything he’s ever imagined.

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  Guns. They are an undeniable part of contemporary life. They make us wild w
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