It was Molly’s turn to close up the store on the day her frivolous and fun approach to life ended. She’d carefully tallied the cash, stored it in the safe out the back away from potential robbers (although nothing so exciting ever happened in their town, she reflected occasionally), and cleared the snow from the path to make it easier to access the building in the morning - especially if it snowed again overnight.
As she turned the key in the door and rattled it to make sure it was properly closed, she heard her name being called from across the street.
It was Fred, one of the boys she was courting with from time to time. ‘I’ve come to take you home, Molly,’ he called through cupped hands.
‘Fred! You know I’m not available until Wednesday after the church supper.’
Fred shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Molly, but this is something different. The sheriff just called for my father, and they told me I should get you home as quickly as possible.’
‘The … your father?’
What was going on? Fred’s father was the town’s doctor, and her own father often called him if there was an injury to deal with or a death to notarize. ‘Has something happened at the jail?’
She was beside the car; Fred scurried around from his side and ushered her into the passenger seat, as chivalrous as ever. ‘It’s not the jail, Molls, it’s your mother.’
Molly felt her heart being squeezed from within. ‘But she’s recovered, hasn’t she?’
‘I’m sorry, Molly. My dad thinks it’s pneumonia,’ said Fred. ‘Very serious. He’s sending her back to the hospital.’
During the exceptionally cold and snowy winter, her mother had come down with influenza. Molly’s father, ever cautious, had taken her to the hospital, but after a few days she’d recovered enough to be sent home, joking that all she’d needed was the vacation.
Now, just days later, it appeared she’d had a relapse.
‘Get me home as quickly as you can, Fred, please,’ said Molly. ‘I need to see her.’
‘I’ll do what I can.’ Fred glanced nervously at the whitening sky. ‘But I think there’s a new blizzard coming in fast.’
He was right. By the time they’d driven past the school and the baseball field, the fields were indiscernible, blanketed by snow. The silver pale sky blended into the horizon so that all around them there was only a chill white fog, stretching as far as they could see.
Fred’s anxiety was increasing. ‘If I get you to your place, I’ll never get home again.’
They were crawling along at about two miles an hour.
‘We’ll never even get close at this rate.’ Molly scraped ineffectually at the inside of the windshield. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she whispered, feeling helpless for the first time in her life.
Fred shook his head again. ‘Me neither. But I don’t think it’ll help anyone to have you in the hospital, too. Let’s sit it out and see how the roads are when the storm has passed.’
‘No! Fred, you’re a genius.’ Molly kissed his cold cheek quickly. ‘If Mom was going to the hospital when you were sent to fetch me, she should have been there before the snowstorm began. Let’s drive there instead.’
But the car wasn’t going anywhere. Very glad of her athletic abilities, Molly wrapped her muffler firmly around her neck and set off at a run.
She arrived within twenty minutes, slithering and sliding along the corridors as she sought out the room her mother might be in. Spotting Doctor Carter in the distance, she ran full-speed to the isolation room, not caring whether it was ladylike or not.
‘Doctor Carter, Fred’s on his way,’ she cried, clutching his sleeve.
‘Thank goodness.’ Fred’s father’s brow creased as he took in Molly’s soaked shoes. ‘I was worried you’d try to get all the way out to the homestead.’
‘Is my mother here?’
Doctor Carter gazed at her for a moment, then nodded. He indicated the door ahead of him. ‘Jesse’s with her. You can go in. Just … she’s really gone downhill, Molly. Be prepared.’
Her father’s uniform stood out against the stark whiteness of the ward as he stood uneasily by her mother’s bed. Molly rushed to his side, halted by the sight of her stricken mother. She lay beneath the blankets like a child, a bird, fragile and barely making an impression on the mattress. Molly could hear her chest rattling as she struggled to drag air into her embattled chest, but other than that there was no movement at all. It was if her mother’s spirit had already left, leaving behind an empty body.
‘Dad,’ said Molly. ‘What … why is she sleeping like that?’