Paul Clayton - Crossing Over

As Mike approached their little campsite, he heard a male voice from the other side of the camper. He stopped and listened. Marie laughed softly. He hadn’t heard her laugh, it seemed, in six months. Marie’s and Elly’s voices floated on the cold air, discussing something.

Mike came around the camper and saw them hanging some clothes next to the fire on a line someone had strung there. Gabe Jilosian, the young soldier from Captain Moore’s militia, knelt before the fire, breaking up branches into arm-length pieces and stacking them.

“I don’t believe it,” said Mike, as he set down his sack on the ground next to the back wheel of the camper. “What are you doing here?”

Gabe got to his feet and smiled. He was wearing civilian clothes—jeans, jogging shoes, and a grey woolen coat a couple sizes too big for him.

They shook hands.

“We found him up near that lady that sells used clothes,” said Elly cheerfully. “We were like, ‘Gabe! What are you doing here?’”

Marie and Elly laughed.

“I told Gabe he could stay with us until he leaves for his folks’ place,” said Marie.

“Sure,” said Mike.

“We’re going to put our sweaters on,” said Marie. She and Elly went into the camper.

Mike turned back to Gabe. “What happened? How did you get here?”

“They got hit. Me and two other guys were out on a patrol. When we got back we saw the camp. They were all dead, burned up.”

“I know,” said Mike quickly. He looked over at the camper to make sure Marie and Elly were still out of ear-shot. “I saw it too. But Marie and Elly didn’t. You didn’t tell them about it, did you?”

Gabe’s wide-set honest blue eyes met Mike’s. “Of course not. I just told them I had been given a leave to visit my folks.”

“Where are the other two guys?”

“They’re on their way home. That’s where I was headed. I’ve been hitching and walking, and when I was passing through here, I saw your wife and Elly.”

Mike nodded. “We applied to get into Canada, but the guy that interviewed us wanted a lot of money, more than we had. It’s almost impossible to get across.”

“There are people that will take you across…”

“I know,” Mike interrupted him, “we tried that and got robbed.”

“My family could get us across.”

“Us?”

Gabe’s eyes were questioning. “I want to go with you.”

“You like Elly, don’t you.”

“Of course. Who wouldn’t?”

“Well, there are things I have to talk to you about.”

Gabe shook his head. “You don’t have to go into that. I know she’s a little different. That doesn’t matter to me.”

Mike looked at him sadly. “Okay, well, we’ll talk more about that later.”

“Thanks,” said Gabe. “I think she’s really sweet. I would never hurt her.”

Mike nodded. Despite himself, he believed the kid. “I know.”

Marie and Elly came out of the camper. Marie carried a brown paper bag. “We were able to buy some eggs, some honey, and some other things,” she said.

“That’s good,” said Mike. “I can cook if you want a break.”

“That’s okay,” said Marie, “Elly’s going to do it, right?”

Elly smiled shyly. “I hope.” She glanced at Gabe then looked at her father. “Mom’s been teaching me.”

“Well, good,” said Mike. “I’ll get some more firewood queued up.”

Mike felt in shock as he walked around the camper while the others talked. Being suddenly confronted with Gabe and all his youthful enthusiasm, and the effect he had on Elly and Marie, had been like having cold water splashed in his face. And Elly’s innocent and tender love for him was undeniable, a strange, sort-of miracle. He picked up the bag of tubing and tape. He cringed at what he’d been planning as he quickly put it inside the storage bin, closing and locking the compartment door. He filled his lungs. The cold air carried the smell of frying sausage and he found he had an appetite for the first time in a long time.

Mike went and joined the others. He and Gabe drew closer to the campfire as Elly got ready to flip the eggs in the pan. “Careful now,” Mike teased.

Elly turned an egg almost expertly and Mike and Gabe ooh-ed and ah-ed, smiling at each other like father and son.

“Way to go!” said Gabe.

Mike marveled at the beautiful, happy look on his daughter’s face.

“See, Dad,” said Elly with a laugh, “I told you I could cook. Mom’s been teaching me.”

“Well, you certainly can. I guess I can’t tease you about that anymore.”

Elly’s face glowed in the light of the fire as she slipped two eggs onto a plate her mother extended to her. Marie gave it to Gabe.

After the meal, snow began falling again in the dusky light. Mike sipped his coffee next to Marie as Gabe and Elly stood together by the road, chatting softly.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful,” said Elly.

“Yeah,” said Gabe. “It would be fun to go sledding.”

“Yeah. But we could make a snowman.”

“Yeah. Good idea. Let’s do it tomorrow morning.”

“Okay.”

For the first time in months Mike’s stomach was full. Marie and Elly had cooked up quite a meal of eggs, grits and canned sausages. He lay beside Marie on the double sleeping shelf. Elly was in her single bed down and to his right, Gabe’s larger bulk on the left shelf. Mike fell asleep. He dreamed of Elly as a baby. How beautiful she was! Sometimes when he looked into her big bright eyes as he held her, he was overcome with happiness, almost to tears. When they found out about her deficits, they fought a lot, blaming each other, genetics, God, fate, doctors, their friends for trying so hard to be supportive—everyone and everything. What an awful terrible time. But they had come out of it together. And they would come out of this.

Mike came awake. He could hear the steady breathing of the others. He stared straight up, as if he could see through the fiberglass roof of the camper and the low clouds—to the stars. Although the night was as cold as the others, the camper felt warm for the first time in a long time. Contentment washed over him. He turned on his side and soon he was asleep again.

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