Second Chance at Love. Irene Brand
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Thunder sounded in the distance and a few sprinkles accumulated on the windshield.
“It was a good idea to bring your parka. I have a raincoat on the back seat if I need it,” he said.
Chase nosed the Jeep toward the edge of the mountain and down the steep incline toward the river valley. After driving a few miles eastward on the paved highway, he turned left on a narrow, rutted, muddy road, and shifted into four-wheel drive. Red clay mud flew in all directions as, with difficulty, he maneuvered the Jeep upward along the hazardous mountain terrain.
“Are you sure this is the right road?” Amelia said as she clutched the seat with both hands.
“I’m beginning to wonder. Rick Smith said to take the first road to the left, but this must not have been the one he meant.” Glancing over his shoulder at the steep, crooked road, he said, “I can’t go back now.”
The road wound up and down and around the mountain, and within fifteen minutes, sweat dripped from Chase’s forehead into his eyes. Knowing he didn’t dare take his hands from the steering wheel, Amelia held on with one hand and took a handful of tissues from her pocket. She wiped the moisture from his face. Her fingers tingled when they brushed the day-old stubble of his whiskers, reminding her of the days when she’d awakened at his side, her smooth face resting against his scratchy one.
“Thanks,” he said.
His words stuck in his throat as they entered a sharp dip and the front wheels of the Jeep dropped into a demolished culvert. The decline was so sudden that, in spite of her seat belt, Amelia’s body bounced forward and her head hit the windshield.
“Ouch!” she said.
Struggling to pull the Jeep out of the gaping ditch, Chase couldn’t spare her a glance, but he asked quickly, “Are you hurt?”
“Not much. Don’t worry about me. Just get out of the ditch. I’d hate to be stranded up here.”
In an attempt to control the twisting and turning vehicle as it writhed like a serpent in the sticky, reddish mud, Chase gunned the engine and gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened. When he maneuvered the Jeep to level ground, Chase stopped and lowered his head on the wheel, his shoulders heaving as he struggled for breath.
“I don’t know if I can take much more of this. I’ve never driven on such a road.”
“Road? This isn’t a road—it’s a disaster!” Amelia took a small bottle of water from her tote. “Want a drink?”
“And how!” Chase said. He unscrewed the lid and gulped more than half of the water. “I don’t know what to do now, but I guess we’ll keep going forward—it couldn’t be any worse than retracing our route.”
“I shouldn’t think so,” Amelia agreed.
Shifting into gear, Chase said, “Talk to me while I drive. You’re too quiet.”
Torn by conflicting emotions, Amelia chose her words carefully. “This road has scared me silent, and I don’t know what to say to you, anyway. Maybe you haven’t been upset by our surprise reunion, but it’s been awkward for me. I don’t want to talk about the past, and this flood disaster isn’t a pleasant subject.”
“Then talk about your parents. How are they?”
“I don’t see much of them. You know that Mother and Dad had been married ten years when I was born, and they’d already molded their marriage without a child. When I went home after our divorce, Mother insisted that I move into my own apartment. I assumed that a divorced daughter was an embarrassment to them, that their friends would think they hadn’t guided me correctly. Since I didn’t think they’d want me living in the same town, I moved out of state. After Dad retired, they sold their holdings in Illinois and moved to Hilton Head permanently. I never did fit into their plans. I used to resent that, but I’ve gotten over it.”
As she continued, Chase wondered if she had come to terms with her parents’ neglect.
“To make up for their lack of devotion, they offered to give me a generous monthly allowance to cover all my needs. They didn’t like it when I got a job. I convinced them that I can make it on my own, but they still shower me with gifts. They bought a new Buick, which I didn’t want, for Christmas. I make enough money to buy a car when I need one, but I was perfectly satisfied with my five-year-old Volkswagen.”
Her parents had liked Chase and, without knowing the circumstances, had blamed Amelia for the divorce. She’d remained silent, letting them believe what they wanted to. On the other hand, Chase’s parents had always resented Amelia, and were pleased when he, in their words, “got rid of her.”
In spite of his preoccupation with the difficult driving, Chase remembered that Amelia’s parents had bought costly, and often inappropriate, gifts for her birthday and Christmas, but that hadn’t compensated for the lack of their presence. After they’d spent thousands of dollars to give Amelia a lavish wedding, they seemed to think they’d done their duty by her. They occasionally stopped to see Amelia and Chase, but only for brief visits on their way to business conferences or frequent vacations. The Stones took a cruise each Christmas, and Amelia had spent few holidays with her parents after graduating from high school. And since his parents didn’t like Amelia, Chase hadn’t gone home for holidays, either, until after their divorce.
After a mile or two of torturous travel, the mountain road dipped into a hollow and joined a graveled road along a creek. Only a scant amount of water remained on the road, but the creek was still bank-full. Abandoned railroad tracks lay along the bank of the stream. Evidence of disaster was everywhere. The floodwaters had covered housetops, and rain-soaked curtains drooped drearily from open windows that had been broken by the swift current. Chain-link fences had been torn out by the deadly torrent, the metal twisted together and dumped in mutilated heaps beside the creek bed.
As they drove slowly upstream, Chase said worriedly, “I wonder if I took the wrong road. Rick said there was a town up this hollow.”
“If so, the residents might have perished in the flood. Not many people could have survived this deluge,” Amelia said.
They reached a spot where the strong water had stripped off the surface of the road, and Chase braked abruptly. For several yards, only two or three feet of roadbed separated two yawning ditches filled with pieces of pavement and foul-smelling water. A sharp curve blocked their view of what lay before them.
“Looks like the end of the road. I’ll walk for a mile or so to see if I can find any survivors,” Chase said.
Amelia unlocked her seat belt and stepped out of the vehicle into an inch of water on the roadbed.
“You don’t have to go,” Chase protested.
“This is a joint venture,” she replied. “I’ll do my part.”
Shifting the Jeep into Reverse, Chase backed up cautiously until he found a place wide enough to turn the vehicle. Although it hadn’t started raining yet, the clouds looked ominous, and he wanted to be headed out of this hollow if there was another cloudburst. He pocketed the keys, adjusted a heavy pack filled with food and first-aid supplies over his back. He hurried to join Amelia, who’d already crossed the narrow pathway and waited for him.
In places, they walked through water, and Amelia was thankful for her heavy boots. After they’d journeyed about a mile, Chase suggested that they turn around, but Amelia pointed to a spiral of smoke ahead of them. She was already tired from the unfamiliar exertion, but her steps quickened. She was both eager and fearful to learn the condition of the town’s residents.
After rounding another bend in the road, they climbed a small hill and saw several buildings scattered haphazardly at the head of the hollow. Some houses had been washed off their foundations, outbuildings were now piles of shattered wood, tops of automobiles projected from the creek, a thick layer of black mud covered the ground, plastic bottles and other debris hung from tree branches. Chase pointed at a ramshackle mine shaft