"I can't find Maria or Joe! They have to be here somewhere. They wouldn't just leave their kids in the car like this. Here," said Jack. "Take the baby and get her in the truck straight away."
Bridgette took Natalie and wrapped her in her coat, holding her tight to her chest as she hurried back to the truck. Cole wrapped his arms around Jack's neck as he lifted them both out of the now destroyed car, racing back towards the truck, and back to safety of the Morrow manor. In the back seat of the truck, Catherine began to scream. Bridgette put the truck into four-wheel drive as it fought against the inclement weather up the treacherous mountain. This is the last place on earth they ought to be with a laboring mother and two small children. Tires skidding against the ice, the truck veered dangerously towards the cliff edge, the holiday lights of Elkhart and Shepard’s Grove looking tiny below.
“Do you want me to drive?!”Jack yelled nervously from the passenger seat beside her.
“I’m an excellent driver, thank you, Jack. It’s the road. Just shut up and keep everyone quiet. And turn that damn radio off!”
Bridgette was the type of driver who felt speed limits were more like guidelines, and the radio blared where ever she went. Just last week she told Jack and Frank, “Billy Idol is my co-pilot” as Rebel Yell blared from the Gremlin’s speakers. The car was a piece of crap, but she had a top-notch stereo system. The only time she turned the radio off when she was driving was when she was nervous.
It took over two hours to reach the top of the pass, snowing falling even heavier and thicker than it had earlier. As the wheels transferred from gravel to dirt, Jack looked at his wrist watch that started to blink.
“It’s 12:00,” said Jack, his voice bereft of emotion.
“Merry Christmas. Let’s get everyone inside.”
Moira was still in the kitchen waiting impatiently by the phone, desperate for some news. News stations from Danville had aired footage of the bridge on channel 7’s 11:00 news broadcast, and Moira could do nothing but stare at the television set, screaming in anger. When the kitchen door burst open at two minutes past midnight, she had to contain herself from breaking into hysterics.
Jack carried Catherine, still wrapped in a blanket, into the kitchen. Bridgette tightly grasped Cole and Natalie, desperate to get them in from the cold. Moira caught sight of the children, and her panic began to rise.
“Are they Maria and Joe’s children?!” she asked nervously.
“Yes. They were involved in the bridge accident. We couldn’t find Maria or Joe, though. Oh, Mom, it was horrible!” exclaimed Bridgette. Moira didn’t know what to say so she hugged her daughter tightly, before Bridgette broke free.
Bridgette pleaded, “Please look after them, I have to help Catherine. Try to get a hold of Joe, Maria, or maybe Maria’s mother, Rita. Let them know that the children are safe.”
Moira stood there with the children in her arms as she watched her daughter run wide-eyed down the hallway to the den where Catherine was struggling through another bout of labor pains.
Jack watched his wife’s face as she went through the motions. Though she had done this many times before, she was still frightened. Still on edge. This time there was no hospital staff, no epidural, and no operating room should something go wrong. Just an aging doctor and a nurse fresh out of school.
He watched as Catherine began to pray, her lips moving swiftly, quietly, as she beckoned to St. Anne, patron saint of laboring mothers. She immediately led into the “Mother of Mercy” prayer, asking for grace and protection and for that protection to extend to her unborn child. As the words escaped from her mouth, her body seemed to relax. A calm had enveloped her. Jack hoped it would last the night. Little did he know, she would be dead by morning.
Chapter Nine
The Shake-Up
Elkhart, PA
October 8, 1997
Late Morning