Paul Clayton - Crossing Over

“When is the appointment?” said Marie.

“Two weeks from today, Tuesday at nine.”

“Good. He’s quite a character, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. But we have to deal with him.”

“What do you mean, Mommy?” said Elly.

“Oh, only that… well, there’s something odd about him, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” said Elly with a frown.

They started walking and Elly let go of her interest in the subject. “I’m hungry,” she said.

Mike and Marie laughed with relief.

“Yeah,” said Mike. “Me too.” He turned to Marie. “Do we have enough in the larder for a nice big lunch?”

“Yeah, I think we can put something nice together.”

They walked slowly down the side of the road toward their camper. Newly-arrived refugees drove cars and campers slowly past, turning their heads in search of friends or parking spaces. Mike, Marie and Elly looked here and there at the vehicles and people on both sides of the road. The temperature had warmed slightly and there was more activity than when they’d left for their appointment. People congregated in small groups, turning their heads to look at them as they passed. Some people worked on their camper rigs or puttered about in their little campsites, breaking up firewood, or cooking. Hammering rattled in the afternoon air and they passed a family building a 2x4 and tarpaper lean-to between their smallish car and some pine trees. Mike was struck with the realization that a community of sorts was growing up here before their eyes. He didn’t like the idea that a lot of these people seemed to expect a long stay. He meant to be across in a couple weeks to a month.

In the morning, Elly announced the snow falling outside with a cry of delight. After they’d had breakfast, she went out to play in the snow in their little camp site. All day long it came down. Mike cleared brush away from around the camper and heaped up the bigger limbs for fuel. Inside, Marie washed some of their things in a plastic tub and catalogued what was in their larder, making a list of what they needed. By twilight the snow was a couple feet deep and still coming down. They ran the heater at fifty degrees most of the night and Mike began to be concerned about the propane. He still didn’t know where to fill their two tanks.

The next day they made a tour of the campsites on both sides of the road. The snow was wet and clung to their shoes and pant legs as they walked through the confusion of campers and cars and shacks. Mike saw a lanky, young man from behind. He slowed, keeping his eyes on him, until the man sensed his scrutiny and turned. He wasn’t the thug. They continued walking. Half of the people seemed sullen or frightened and deliberately ignored them as they passed. Some nodded in greeting or said hello, and these they stopped to speak with. Elly stood close to her mother as Marie asked a woman a few questions about where to buy food. They walked on, coming to a crew of men digging a trench. Mike looked over at one of them leaning on his shovel as he took a break.

“What’s happening?” said Mike.

“Septic trench. We’re putting in a dozen two-holers. This place is filling up fast.”

“You know anywhere I could buy propane?”

The man’s face was serious, even grim, as he shook his head. “Nope. Propane is getting as precious as potable water now. Nobody knows where to get any.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

They walked on and Mike spotted a familiar old, stake-body truck piled high with used wooden furniture. A brown army tent with a raised, wooden floor was on the other side of the truck. Mike had seen it and the truck when they had arrived, and had been meaning to speak to these people. A blue-eyed, craggy-faced old man, his long white hair combed over to cover a bald, pink crown, was attempting to pull a chest of drawers down off the truck. Mike went over, Marie and Elly following him. He helped the man lower the piece to the ground.

“Thank you,” the man said with a smile.

“You’re welcome.”

“My name’s, Jake,” the man said. “Carlene?” he called into the tent. An older woman, small and thin, but sprightly, with thick glasses and permed brown hair came out. She looked at him expectantly.

“These are our neighbors from the camper on the shoulder.”

Carlene nodded to Marie and Elly. “Hello,” she said.

“Hello,” said Marie, Elly softly echoing her greeting.

Jake turned to Mike. “I meant to walk on down and introduce myself to you, but I got so busy I didn’t get around to it yet.”

“Don’t apologize. I saw your rig up here and I was gonna do the same.”

“Would you like to have some coffee and cake?” said Carlene. “I just made some walnut cake this morning.”

“We shouldn’t impose,” Marie protested. “It looks like you’re both busy.”

“It’s okay,” said Carlene, “We were about ready to take a break anyway.”

Jake gestured to a wooden plank table with two stools under it. “Let me get a few more stools.”

“And what is your name?” Carlene said to Elly as Marie and Elly sat.

“Elly.”

“Oh. Excuse me one minute.” Carlene went into the tent.

Marie called after her, “Carlene, I should have offered to help. Anything I can do?”

“No, dear, just relax. I’ll be right there.”

Mike indicated the chest of drawers to Jake as Carlene brought out the cake and some cups. “You want help putting that in the tent?”

“No. I got it down to work on it. I restore furniture.”

Mike nodded. “That sounds like something that’s probably in demand nowadays.”

“Oh yeah. Hardly anybody buying new. Hardly anything new to be bought. What business are you in?”

Mike frowned. “Well, I’m retired. I worked as an accountant. I’m not sure what I’m going to do when we cross over. Probably any kind of work I can get.”

Jake indicated the table. “Sit down and have some coffee and cake.”

“This is delicious,” Marie said to Mike, pointing with her fork. She turned to Carlene. “Where in Heaven’s name did you get walnuts? And sugar?”

Carlene smiled proudly. “Well, I’ve had the walnuts for over a year. And that’s not sugar in the cake, but honey. Jake and I found a farm on the way up here where we bought some.”

“Ooh,” said Elly as she pushed her empty plate away, “that was so good!”

Marie and Carlene laughed.

“Would you like some more?” Carlene said.

“Sure.”

“So,” said Mike to Jake, “how long have you been waiting for your papers to cross?”

Jake frowned. “Four, five months now. Feels like time is standing still.”

Carlene came out of the tent and set a piece of cake before Elly. Jake turned to her. “How long we been here?”

“About a hundred days.” Carlene looked around to see if anyone wanted any more cake. She sat. “We’re supposed to be getting our papers soon.”

Mike nodded as he sipped his coffee.

“We got one little advantage,” Jake added, almost apologetically.

Mike and Marie looked at him.

“Carlene is Canadian.”

“Oh,” Mike and Marie said together, smiling.

Carlene smiled shyly. “I came down to the States when I was in my twenties. Never thought I’d be going back home to live.” She started collecting plates. Marie stood to help.

Mike looked at Carlene questioningly. “Are you happy to be going back?”

“Oh no. I loved it in the States. I came down for a job and got married. I never thought of going back home.”

“Was that when you two met?” said Marie.

“No,” said Carlene. “That was my first marriage.”

“And I was married once before as well,” added Jake. “We’ve been married twenty years now. Right Carlene?”