In the Woods After Dark

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling and it was almost dark.

The perfect time to stay inside, curled up on the sofa with a good book and some cocoa. That's what Brenda would have said on a night like this, Walt thought. Work can wait. It will still be there in the morning, she'd have said.

There was still the Watson family's beaten-up old minivan waiting outside his garage for a much-needed brake job. The family had four kids, and Bob Watson had recently been laid off. Walt would charge them enough to cover the parts it took to do the job, but not much else. He was no highfalutin philanthropist, but he wasn't above giving some hardworking folks a break once in a while.

People with money went to their car dealerships to maintain their vehicles. But for those struggling between paychecks," Walt's Auto Repair and Sales" fit the bill.

Walt stood outside his garage, having closed up for the night. Brenda was right, the work would still be there in the morning.

He drew in a lung full of brisk winter air and gazed about the darkening yard. His garage and "buy here-pay here" used lot was off the beaten path, down a dirt road that was one of the last to see a plow during the winter. His garage was marked by a rusty sign out by the road, and he lived in a one-story house next door. Both the house and the garage were badly in need of a fresh coat of paint.

The wind picked up, and the old sign by the road creaked as it swayed in the breeze.

Yes, the work would still be waiting in the morning. Walt hadn't worried if Brenda would. He should have worried about that more. Had there been signs he'd missed? The cancer was brutal and quick. She was gone within a month of her diagnosis.

Walt sighed and headed toward the house. He did have a book waiting inside, just delivered that morning by the Amazon van. A best seller everyone was making over. Just the kind of book Brenda would have wanted him to read. Walt went inside and searched around for the cocoa but found none.

"Jim Beam will have to do," Walt muttered as he poured himself a drink. He considered having another bowl of the chili sitting in his refrigerator but thought better of it. He already had indigestion, and chili wouldn't make it any better. He rubbed his chest with a work worn hand. Instead, he grabbed a sleeve of saltine crackers. Ignoring the new book on the kitchen counter, he turned on the television and munched on crackers and sipped his whiskey.

A local news anchor droned on about the cost of eggs and the state of the world. Walt's eyelids grew heavy and soon he was lightly snoring in his easy chair.

The sound of barking woke Walt several hours later. It wasn't unusual to have a neighbor's dog wandering about out in the country. But the weather wasn't fit for man nor beast. The wind had picked up strength from earlier, wailing under the eaves of the house.

The back screen door rattled from a gust, the little hook holding steady. For now.

The barking turned into a sorrowful howl. Maybe one of the neighbor's dogs was out in the storm and hurt?

Walt fumbled with his ragged Carhart jacket, still groggy from his nap. He grabbed a flashlight and headed outside to find out what all the ruckus was about.

Walt's yard, which doubled as his used car lot, had drifts of snow blown against the cars mixed with clear swatches of wind whipped earth. Snow was still falling but not softly falling flakes from a beautiful Christmas card scene.

Instead, the snow was driving sideways.

A long howl echoed through the night. It was coming from the wooded area outback. Walt staggered around the cars towards the trees, his arm in front of his face to block it from the sting of the wind and snow. Visibility was nonexistent now. Walt gasped as his foot caught on a tree root, and he tumbled blindly forward.

Snap! Walt heard the ghastly sound, like a cracking of a branch of wood, followed by a shot of pain from his ankle that took his breath away. Then groaning, he rolled onto his back, freeing his mangled ankle. An even stronger bolt of pain traveled up his leg.

Everything went dark and the pain went with it. For a time. Then the stinging snow on his face revived Walt. With a gasp he opened his eyes, the fall and snap of his ankle flooding back into his mind.

How long have I been unconscious? He carefully rolled his head, slowly looking around. The bare trees and the ground were blanketed in white. Except for the dark of the sky and the stars, the world around Walt was all white. The hush of a snowy night had settled in around him.

His ankle didn't hurt anymore. Then it occurred to Walt that was because he could no longer feel his legs.

Oh, that's not good, Walter thought. His heart started to race, and he began gasping for air. Panic was setting in. He shivered violently from the bitter cold.

Then he heard it, so soft at first that he wondered if his ears were playing tricks on him. The slightly off-key humming he had heard drifting out of his kitchen for so many years. Brenda had always hummed as she worked. Washing dishes, preparing food, or mopping the floor— she would hum. No recognizable tune. Just gentle humming. Now he heard it out in the terrible cold night, as he lay in the dark.

"My love, what have you gotten yourself into now?" a playful voice asked. Brenda's voice. He hadn't heard it in so long. Walt began to weep softly at the sound of her voice again.

"Don't cry. It's going to be okay. It was always going to be okay," Brenda said. Through the snowfall he could make out a figure standing above him. Walt gazed up at her silhouette, his breathing slowing and heartbeat settling. His pain forgotten.

Miraculously Walt wasn't cold anymore. Warmth spread over him, the kind a man feels as he snuggles up to his wife in a cozy bed. Her face came into his view, healthy and beautiful again. As it had been before the cancer. Her eyes kind and patient. She reached an arm out, stooping down to brush his cheek with her warm hand. Walt smiled at her touch. It was the first time he'd truly smiled in years.

Late the next morning, after the storm had passed, the neighbor down the street came around to collect his wayward dog who was running the woods behind Walt's Auto Repair and Sales. An ambulance was called, but it was too late. It was obvious Walt had died several hours ago in the night. I hint of a smile frozen on his face.