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Wayward Wife's Punishment - 40
After filling the tank we got onto
Interstate 35 and headed south through the flat lands of Iowa. The wind had
picked up and there was lots of blowing snow to make navigating the highway a
white-knuckle experience. The local weather forecaster was having a hard time
explaining why this semi-blizzard was so unpredictable, a sure sign that he was
clueless. We pressed on, at about thirty miles per hour, noting the lack of
traffic and the few mounds of snow on the shoulders that contained autos that
either slid off the road or had mechanical difficulties.
I'd foolishly estimated we'd make Des
Moines in two hours; it took four. My
passengers, who chose to sit in the back where there was more room, were very
quiet. I was too busy trying to avoid joining the other hulks by the side of
the highway to make small talk, depending on the radio to keep the young girl
and her cat entertained. Dottie and Toto, on their way back to Kansas. Who
would believe this one?
Whoever was in charge among the many souls
who occupied my brain these days, foolishly decided to press on instead of
holing up in the thriving metropolis of Des Moines. Here we were still on
Interstate 35, all by our lonesome, and darkness fast approaching. At least the
visibility was improving, but I had no clue as to where or when to stop. Then
for the first time since we had begun this little jaunt from Clear Lake, Dottie
spoke more than two or three words at a time, almost making me swerve off the
road.
She said there was an inn at the next
exit. She had seen a sign for it about two miles ago. Hallelujah, we'd been
saved from my macho pride which sometimes gets in the way of progress. We got
off the Interstate and went down a long grade on snow that had never been
plowed, looking for this inn that Dottie claimed was in the vicinity. I was
about to give into panic and start screaming we were lost and our bodies might
not be found until Spring. It was then that she announced the inn was ahead on
our right side. She must have had the eyes of an eagle to spot the small white
two-story house set back perhaps twenty yards from the road. I very carefully
drove up a narrow path that led to the inn. Now darkness was settling in fast
and I thanked my lucky stars that Miss Eagle-Eye had seen the sign on the
Interstate.
We made our way through the snow drifts
piled against the fence surrounding the white house which was rapidly
disappearing in the early evening darkness made more opaque by the leaden
clouds. Reaching the door, I knocked and waited for some response. There were
lights on within, a very good sign. Just as I was about to knock a second time,
the door opened slightly and a woman's voice urged us to come in and make it
quick before the wind blew the snow inside. We eagerly complied and found
ourselves in a little alcove; beyond there was a wood paneled room with a
fireplace crackling a warm welcome. We were saved, or so I thought.
Our hostess was a plump, cheery lady in
her late fifties to early sixties who looked like the standard issue mother
that was used by photographers and graphic artists across the spectrum. She
seemed to radiate cheerfulness and that aura that most of us attributed to our
mothers as well, especially when we were in our cups, so to speak. As we
followed her into the livingroom, a place of warmth and coziness that almost
seemed staged, she chattered away about the terrible weather and the fact that
she had a roast in the oven that needed her attention immediately.
She left us to warm ourselves in front of
that fantastic fire while she did some magic things in the kitchen and returned
bearing a tray of ambrosia and cups of spiced tea that Dottie and I fell upon
like a pair of ravenous animals of the forest as she beamed happily at our
delighted reaction to her cooking. I had not had food and drink like this since
I was a child and those previous memories came tip-toeing out from my memory
almost bringing me to tears.
We were invited to avail ourselves of the
facilities upstairs since it would be another hour before dinner would be
ready. Always the gentleman, I suggested Dottie go first. She disappeared up
the stairs and I relaxed, staring into the flames that almost seemed to be
artificial. I had never seen such a uniform blaze as this one, not that I am an
afficionado of such things. Between the tea and hors d'oeuvres and the
crackling fire I nodded off. I couldn't have slept for long, but it was enough
to have an unsettling dream.
We were lost in the blowing snow and
couldn't even find a station on the car radio that worked. Gradually I
recognized the sound of Toto purring; it grew until the inside of the car began
vibrating as I fought to keep it on the road. I looked up into the rear view
mirror but couldn't see my passenger, just a dark space whose outline seemed to
shimmer, reminding me of something that was radiating tremendous heat. How odd,
I thought, if anything the car heater had been overwhelmed by the cold from
outside. Then a raspy tongue licked the back of my neck and I screamed, losing
control of the car.
You talk about an embarrassing moment,
this was right up there with picking your nose in public. It took me a few
seconds to realize it wasn't a raspy tongue on the nape of my neck, it was
Dottie's warm hand trying to rouse me from my slumbers. Then our hostess came
running from the kitchen, a look of concern on her face. It took a moment or so
to convince everyone that it had just been a dream that caused my reaction and
everything was fine. Then it dawned on me that Dottie was wearing this white
fluffy robe that fit her perfectly. Almost as if she could read my mind she
mentioned that in our room she found two robes laid out on the big bed, and
trying one on before she showered, discovered it molded itself to her body, not
like any garment she'd ever worn.
After assuring our hostess that all was
well, I went upstairs and took a shower, luxuriating under the torrent of warm
water that washed away the remnants of my brief dream. What are the odds that
two randomly distributed robes could exactly fit two randomly distributed
people? In most cases they'd be large, very large. However, if the truth be
told, in this case they were astronomical. I don't like to talk about it, but
something happened in the womb that left me with one arm exactly one inch
longer than the other, or vice-versa depending upon your perspective. It was
for this reason that I needed to have my shirts and jackets modified after
their purchase, a minor nuisance to which I had grown accustomed. It became
necessary to take a seat on the bed and regroup. First that brief warning of a
dream, and now this. For sure I wasn't in Kansas any more, that is
metaphorically, considering my immediate destination was indeed Kansas.
Dinner was unbelievable, perfection in
both quality and quantity, every item cooked just right for my palate. Remember
you are talking to someone who has been baching it for nearly a year and thinks
take-out is the staff of life. My companion was obviously enjoying herself as
much as I was, eating with a gusto that both belied her slender form and was
indicative of one who rarely had the opportunity to encounter a home cooked
meal, especially one done as well as this marvel. Between mouthfuls I engaged
our charming hostess in polite conversation, gleaning from her the fact that
the "mister" was away on business in Des Moines and would likely be
back tomorrow.
When I innocently mentioned the sign that
Dottie had seen on the Interstate, there was no reply at first, which I thought
strange. For the only time since we had entered this delightful refuge from the
storm there seemed to be a slight chill in the air. Dottie had even stopped
shoveling food into her mouth, and was just staring at the apple-cheeked,
motherly personage who had taken us in from the snow and cold.
The woman broke the tension quickly by
commenting that there was a sign for a bed and breakfast establishment some
distance from her home that had on occasion mistakenly brought people to this
location. She made a little joke that this was one of those rare times that
such an error had paid off so handsomely, seeing as they were not a for-profit
endeavor, but rather just a couple who had managed to retire a little earlier
than most, and were spending the rest of their years happily communing with
their surroundings. Fortunately they had a guest room available, but not for a
fee she was quick to add. That seemed to relieve the tension and we all went
back to demolishing this extraordinary repast that she had prepared.
After a marvelous dessert and more spiced
tea we sat by the fire and watched the local TV channel, which promised much
better weather by morning, except it would be quite cold behind the little
blizzard that had brought us to this place. Once more I thanked our lucky stars
for this refuge. Before we turned in for the evening our hostess even came up
with a kitty litter box for Toto's use, having lost their cat some years ago.
How fortuitous I thought. What great good fortune to stumble upon out in the
wilderness. I became optimistic it was a sign that my move from the snow and
cold to the more forgiving climate of the South was the correct one.
Since we were going to need to leave
rather early tomorrow morning in order to drop off Dottie and her cat in Kansas
City, we needed to take our leave and get a good night's sleep. Our hostess
smiled and bid us good night, promising to prepare something for us to take on
our trip tomorrow. I could not believe our good fortune in meeting this charming,
helpful person. Dottie went up prior and a few minutes later I took my leave
and headed up the stairs while the woman continued to stare at the flickering
picture on the television. When I got into our room there was just a small
night light burning, enough for me to find my way into the bathroom to change
and then join Dottie in bed. All I could make out of her was this bump under
the blankets. Being quiet as a mouse I slipped under the covers and wasted no
time falling into a sound sleep.
( To be continued - lex ludite
)
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