I’m the one who found her, but I’m not the same person I was before. I am different now because of Jenna and Portis Dale and I believe we all tried to save each other in that storm and that mostly we did. I know Portis came to love Jenna in that short time and that he was changed by it.
I included a brief postscript that explained, among other things, that the Farmers should not try to locate me.
I will be somewhere else. And if anybody comes to you with a story that disputes the events described in this letter they are an outright liar and not to be trusted. If you need proof of my account I can tell you about the terrible rash Jenna had beneath her diaper and that she was bone skinny and in possession of two little nubs of teeth at the time of these events. I’m sure the doctors/police took pictures if you feel it necessary to validate my claims.
I sealed the letter in the envelope, then grabbed an empty grocery bag Granger had in his pantry and took everything out to the truck. Wolfdog sat up and barked and I hurried toward her. I opened the passenger door to pet her and told her everything was all right. Then I took Carletta’s blanket from the glove and dropped it in the grocery bag with the letter.
Mama might have intended the blanket for Tanner, but it was Jenna who’d been swaddled in it. The blanket had helped to carry her and keep her warm in the north hills and that made it hers.
I drove down Poplar Street with Wolfdog beside me in the cab. I’d stop at Pickering’s on the way out of town for my last paycheck and there would be enough for gas, and even some food if we got tired of Burger King. We were going to make it to Portland, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind about that.
We took Poplar to the highway, past the cement plant and the trailer park, and then made the turn for town. We drove by the Methodist church and City Hall and I watched the sun glint off the waterfront where the waves were frozen in mid-tumble along the shore. Beyond the shore was the bay and I could see the slow push of a freighter in the distance where the ice broke into blue water and ran clear into sky.
I turned into West Cutler, then onto Williams Street, where I slowed as I passed Jenna’s new home. I think it was what they call a bungalow. One of those cute, California-looking houses, and sharply painted to boot—everything forest green and trimmed orange. I drove to the end of the block, then looped back and parked across the street.
The Farmers had their sidewalks shoveled and a trimmed hedge that lined their drive like a fence. There was a big front porch swing, bird feeders staked throughout the yard, and a brightly colored sign above the door that said WELCOME.
There was a red Pontiac Vibe easing slowly toward us on the street, and then the left blinker came on and it turned into the Farmers’ drive. My first thought was to put the truck in gear and drive away, but I did not.
I watched Mrs. Farmer get out and I put her somewhere in her mid-thirties. She had beautiful red hair that fell down around her shoulders and wore a yellow North Face jacket and blue jeans. And when she lifted Jenna from the car seat I felt my breath catch.
Jenna called out in that sweet, high-pitched babble and Mrs. Farmer smiled as she swung her onto a hip. Mrs. Farmer reached back into the backseat for a bag of groceries and then bounded up the porch steps while I sat there watching with a cave in my chest. They both looked so happy.
I didn’t know what I was going to do now, had never planned that they might be home. Wolfdog’s side ballooned with easy breaths, though, and that calmed me as I waited a few moments and then stepped out of the truck.
I held the bag against my side and jogged up the drive. I could see more groceries in the hatchback and hurried up the porch steps. My mouth had gone to cotton and my breath was quick and short in my lungs.
The front door was open and I could hear music playing softly from the back of the house, maybe from the kitchen, and when I went to set the bag down I looked through the screen door and saw Jenna on a play mat inside.
She was on her back and batting at a stuffed animal that dangled above her. She was in a small room to the side of the entry and between her and the door was a long hall that led straight to the back of the house.
I watched her and remembered the bassinet and the way she’d screamed out against the wind. I remembered carrying her through the snow and how Portis had helped me when she grew heavy. I remembered her sleeping beside me in the shanty and the way she chomped my knuckle for comfort when she’d finally been freed from Carletta. I remembered Shelton placing her in the papoose and how the snow still fell as I ran for his truck.