Turn Around When Possible, J. C. Laird [best large ereader TXT] 📗

off from all the vehicle’s rolling and somersaulting. “Hon, get mine out; it’s in my right front pocket,” he said.

She favored him with an arched eyebrow. “Hon? You haven’t called me that in years.” She managed to pull his cell phone out of his jean’s pocket.

“And you haven’t called me Bobby in forever. Maybe we’re in shock from the accident…” His slowly budding smile froze on his face when he saw her expression. She was staring blankly at the cell phone screen. “Let me guess,” he said. “No bars.”

Cindy flipped the phone shut and leaned back against the passenger door. “No bars, no service.” Quietly, expressionlessly, she laid the phone down on the seat, scrunched down and loosened the tourniquet on Robert’s leg. As the blood started to re-circulate, the pain was immediate and sharp. He let out a yelp.

“Sorry, just for a few seconds.” She waited for about fifteen seconds, then re-cinched the belt. She brushed his thinning hair back from his forehead. “You okay?”

Robert looked at his pinned legs. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to have to go for help.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she said. “Besides, we’ll be missed and they’ll start looking for us.”

He managed a smile. “Cindy, David and Elizabeth and a few of our friends know we’re going to Sandpoint in Idaho. Nobody knows we took this shortcut through these mountains; I bet this route isn’t even on any of the maps anymore.”

She looked out the broken windows at the lengthening afternoon shadows creeping up the mountainside. “There’s only an hour or so of daylight left. Let me take a look around and see if there’s even a way I can hike out of here. But first…” She rummaged around in the glove compartment and found the pocket knife they kept there for emergencies, their son David’s Boy Scout knife from his youth.

Cindy took the two empty, plastic water bottles and cut off the top quarter of each. “These were our only water. But there’re still patches of snow on the north sides of some of the trees and rocks. I’ll pack these bottles with snow for you.”

“Can you get out of the car?” he asked.

She smirked. “You’re kidding. I’m still only 5’2’ and 105 pounds; I can squeeze through any of these windows. Besides, I won’t have to; even you could get through the busted tailgate.” She glanced at his leg, then at her silver Merona watch with its diamond chips at the 12, 3, 6 and 9 numerals, a tenth anniversary gift from Robert. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

He ran his hand down his leg to the belt tourniquet. “It’s okay, take your time; I can loosen this.”

Cindy stared at him, gave him a quick kiss on the forehead, scrambled over the seats and disappeared out the back.

“Turn around when—” He turned Samantha off.

Cindy was back in less than half an hour. The sun was almost setting and the car was in shadow; the temperature was dropping rapidly. Holding the two snow filled bottles in front of her, she clambered through the crumpled rear end of the car and over the seats to Robert. She wedged the bottles on the cockeyed dashboard and wiggled back underneath with several t-shirts she had retrieved from somewhere, stuffing them tightly around his damaged leg as best she could.

With a gasp he jerked out of his drowse at the sudden pain.

“Sorry, Bobby, I just wanted to do everything I could think of to stop the bleeding; then maybe we could tighten the tourniquet less often…

“It’s okay; you just surprised me. So, what’s it look like, the mountain that is? Are you going to be able to hike out of here and get help?

A forlorn look shadowed her face, mirroring the shadows cast by the setting sun. “I don’t think so Bobby; we’re about half way down the mountain. It’s rough looking going down from here; there seems to be a narrow ravine between this and the next mountain range but it looks pretty barren, even if I could do it. I climbed a ways back up; I can get to a ridge, maybe fifty feet or so from the edge where we went over, but no farther. I don’t know how far I could go left or right, but I wouldn’t count on it.” She leaned back against the buckled passenger door and closed her eyes. “Besides, my neck and back are killing me and I need to stay here with you.”

“You can’t Cindy; you have to at least try. It may be our only chance.”

“But it’s possible a hiker will see the tire tracks, the skid marks, look, see the wreckage and check,” she said. “I mean, those old roads are official hiking trails now.”

“What are the odds, Cindy? We haven’t seen any cars or anyone on foot since we started up the mountain. What are the chances that anybody will happen to be hiking those particular trails right now, just happen to see and check…?”

Cindy grinned, then winced at the pain in her swollen lips. “Despite your being a pain in the ass and ruining our ‘vacation’, I still have to take care of your leg, get you snow water and keep you warm.”

Robert just stared at her, letting reason and logic run its course. Even with the dried blood in her hair and streaking her face, her swollen lips and her torn and dirty sundress, he still thought Cindy beautiful. How had they drifted so far apart over the years of their marriage? When had they stopped talking about anything more important than trivial day to day minutia?

Her eyes blurred with tears. “Okay, I’ll try again tomorrow; it’s too dark now.”

The sun had disappeared behind the opposing mountains, details of the surrounding landscape slowly vanishing in the shroud of the encroaching night. The interior of the destroyed vehicle was cast in an eerie darkening twilight, an increasingly cold night wind wafting in through the broken windows. Cindy rummaged through the only suitcase that had survived the tumble down the mountain, retrieved a couple of sweatshirts and pants, jeans and several blouses. She silently tied them together making a makeshift blanket and covered Robert.

She handed him two granola bars she had scavenged from the floor of the vehicle, along with a bottle of half melted snow. She tried to manage a smile, but knew she was failing miserably. “Not exactly a gourmet dinner; it’s the best I could whip up on the spur of the moment.”

He was shivering uncontrollably as he reached for the bars. “Looks scrumptious, Hon. I’m famished.”

She felt his head; he was burning up with fever. She rummaged through the ransacked suitcase in the back seat and sighed with relief when she came up with a bottle of aspirin. A little more foraging and she found her Midol and her sleeping pills. Thank God she had packed the medications in that suitcase. She dosed out some of each and handed them to Robert. “Here, Bobby, take these—doctor’s orders.”

Despite his trembling hands, he managed to get the pills down without dropping any. “I wish I could move or change positions,” he said. “With my legs pinned liked this, I can hardly move anything, and everything is cramping and aching.”

Cindy crawled into the back seat, rearranged things and got behind Robert. “Lean forward a little bit.” She started to massage his neck and shoulders, her small, but strong hands kneading his knotted muscles. “What do you think David and Elizabeth are doing?”

“Well, David is taking a couple of summer courses at Marist, and knowing him, he’s probably hitting the books about now. Unless, of course, his roommates are leading him astray. I just wish he would’ve picked a college closer to home; New York is so far away.” He groaned in pained contentment as Cindy worked on an overly tense muscle. “And Elizabeth and George have only been married for three months, so I’d take a wild guess that maybe they are…well, I imagine your guess might be the same as mine. At least they only live a couple of states away…”

“Bobby, why did you start calling me Hon again?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I began thinking about how it used to be when we were dating in college and the first few years we were married. We use to talk about everything, our hopes and dreams, our goals. We did things together. Remember all the scrapbooks and photograph albums? I think they’re stored in the attic now. And it wasn’t just a matter of David and Elizabeth coming along and child-rearing taking up all of our spare time; we have a ton of wonderful family memorabilia to disprove that. I think in the midst of jobs and family, we just forgot about us. We let things get mired in a rut, the routine of our daily lives; we let life bury the things once important and special to us. Then, when David and Elizabeth moved on and out with their own lives—making us the proverbial ‘empty-nesters’—we couldn’t remember how to get back to the days of ‘Hon’ and ‘Bobby’. We were just kind of lost…”

Robert’s voice had become soft and blurred around the edges as the pills began taking effect. Cindy moved back to the front seat and undid, then redid, the tourniquet. She snuggled up against him as best she could in an attempt to add a little more warmth; the temperature was zeroing in on the forty degree range. He was still talking…paused…”I love you, Cindy.”

Then, he was crying. “I’m sorry, Cindy, I’ve made such a horrible mess of everything. I’m always trying to run the show, doing things my way, ignoring your needs and wants. I made you come on this vacation when you didn’t want to; I’m stubborn, pigheaded and…and all these years…I haven’t loved you like you deserve…I…please forgive me, Cindy, I’m so sorry for everything …”

She put her fingertips to his lips, stopping him. “Shhhhh…Bobby, it’s okay. I’ve made my share of mistakes along the way, too.” She pulled the make-shift clothing blanket up to his chin and tucked it around him. “I can be, and have been, just as stubborn and pigheaded as you. You’re no sorrier than I am. I love you Bobby; I always have and I always will.” Cindy laid her head on his shoulder. “I just wish you were a better driver.”

He took in a shuddering breath, but couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe Samantha has the right idea.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whenever we go the wrong way or miss a turn, she always comes back with her stock ‘turn around when possible’. Maybe we should have done the same over the years when we made our mistakes. The ‘turning around’ thing…”

They talked for another hour or so about their days gone past, of things regretted and of things enjoyed, until Robert finally fell into a fitful and feverish doze. His mind never registered that Cindy was still wearing only her ragged sundress, the chill wind blowing in through the open windshield occasionally ruffling the light-weight fabric. Throughout the night she religiously worked the tourniquet on his leg, waiting for the morning light.

#

Robert woke with a start, a sharp stab of pain shooting down his leg as Cindy cinched the belt tightly once again. The sun was finally breaking over the ridge line behind them, warming the chill morning air and casting the ravine below and the mountains opposite in bright sunlight. She glanced at her watch, 10:45 a.m., and looked at his pale face, pinched with pain. “Bobby, even with the tourniquet and all the pressure packing I’ve done around your leg, you’ve lost a lot of blood; I have to get going. I refilled the two bottles with snow and found one more granola bar. I’ll put the meds on the console here; take a dose every four hours.” She picked up the GPS. “I’m going to take Samantha with me.”

Robert, weak and lightheaded, tried to