Winter was coming to the Rockies.
Joe and Mary took a long stroll in the mountains. Marge was glad to stay home and watch the twins. She had adopted Jerry and Joey as her own.
Mary loved the wild beauty of the rocky winding path. The boulders were many colored. Small rivulets ran down at intervals like tear streaks, gathering into a bubbling stream that made its way down the valley.
They entered a stand of tall evergreens. New fallen snow made the landscape white and beautiful. Mary stopped and took Joe's arm. "I didn't know what it felt like," she said.
"What what felt like?" Joe blinked
"To be truly happy." Mary smiled. Her teeth shone white. It started snowing. Delicate flakes fell on the fur hood that ringed her face. Some fell on her eyelashes. Joe realized a great truth -- it is impossible not to fall in love with a girl when her face is ringed in fur and snow is falling. He kissed her tenderly. "Don't you think it's time?" Joe asked. She said, "Yes."
Joe and Mary took a long stroll in the mountains. Marge was glad to stay home and watch the twins. She had adopted Jerry and Joey as her own.
Mary loved the wild beauty of the rocky winding path. The boulders were many colored. Small rivulets ran down at intervals like tear streaks, gathering into a bubbling stream that made its way down the valley.
They entered a stand of tall evergreens. New fallen snow made the landscape white and beautiful. Mary stopped and took Joe's arm. "I didn't know what it felt like," she said.
"What what felt like?" Joe blinked
"To be truly happy." Mary smiled. Her teeth shone white. It started snowing. Delicate flakes fell on the fur hood that ringed her face. Some fell on her eyelashes. Joe realized a great truth -- it is impossible not to fall in love with a girl when her face is ringed in fur and snow is falling. He kissed her tenderly. "Don't you think it's time?" Joe asked. She said, "Yes."
The wedding was simple; just Joe, Mary, the pastor, the twins, and a beaming Marge.
----
If there was one thing the twins could agree on, it was that they doted on their baby sister, Alice. Blue-eyes, blonde curly hair and freckles, along with an infectious laugh and nearly constant grin made Alice the darling of the family. It seemed natural that the adorable girl should get most of the attention. Joey was enthralled with her, studying her every action, marveling at her every new discovery. Jerry couldn’t help feeling a little jealous, but he kept his feelings hidden, at least at first.
The addition to the family did add to the burden, but Mary decided it was still necessary to maintain a low profile, and Joe agreed. They didn't have any way of assessing the nature or the scope of the threat, but they both had come to trust the warnings of their scrawny black prophet.
---
It was another winter. It seemed it was almost always winter. The twins were having fun playing in the snow. Jerry kept shoving snow down Joey's collar. Joey took it good-naturedly. "Snowman," Joey cried.
The addition to the family did add to the burden, but Mary decided it was still necessary to maintain a low profile, and Joe agreed. They didn't have any way of assessing the nature or the scope of the threat, but they both had come to trust the warnings of their scrawny black prophet.
---
It was another winter. It seemed it was almost always winter. The twins were having fun playing in the snow. Jerry kept shoving snow down Joey's collar. Joey took it good-naturedly. "Snowman," Joey cried.
Joey loved winter. Joe started rolling a snowball. "No, Daddy! We do it!" Jerry exclaimed. The twins labored on hands and knees to make a lopsided snow boulder. Once, Joey slipped. Jerry pushed his face into the snow. They started on the next ball, the body of the snowman. When it was finally finished, it was too heavy for them to lift into place. Joe provided the necessary power. A smaller ball formed the head of the snowman. Joey and Jerry found some sticks to make arms. Mary emerged from the trailer and added a walnut for a nose. Some pebbles made the snowman smile. His dark black olive eyes winked merrily. Joe topped it off with a cowboy hat.
“Yay!” Joey beamed.
Jerry looked at their creation for a second, then toppled it with a mighty shove, and kicked the fallen snowman into pieces. Joey’s face wrinkled up. He cried. Jerry laughed. Joe had turned away. He was too late to save the snowman. He frowned at Jerry, but said nothing.
Joey started crying. Jerry pushed his face in the snow and shoved snow all the way down the back of his shirt.
"Jerry, stop that!" Joe yelled, grabbing Jerry's arm. He pulled both boys upright and shook the snow off them.
"Better come inside and take a hot bath," Mary called.
Joey started sneezing and coughing at suppertime. At bedtime, he began running a fever and complained of sore throat. Mary plied him with herbs and ointments from Marge's garden, all to no avail.
"Baby, baby, baby," Jerry taunted him. Surprisingly, Jerry did not show any symptoms. Before, when one got sick, the other automatically followed.
Mary fussed over Joey all night long, continually taking his temperature and applying cold compresses and alcohol baths to fight the temperature.
By morning, Joey showed no improvement. His temperature continued to soar. Mary was getting really alarmed. "We need to get him to a doctor," she told Joe.
It was a week before the roads were passable. Mary kept giving Joey plenty of liquids. Joey kept coughing up phlegm and looking apologetic. Mary just shushed him and hugged him. Jerry was quiet and frowning. Mary hugged him, too. "It's not your fault," she assured Jerry.
Marge's idea of "passable": Only six inches of snow covered the road. Only a few scattered flakes were falling. The icy patch that sloped directly to a 200-foot sheer drop had softened just enough to give tires a slight hold.
Joe and Mary loaded the twins into the car. Marge at first refused to stay behind. "I'm goin'. That's all," she said. But she finally gave in to reason. It made no sense to take little Alice along. Somebody had to stay with the baby. "Dear Lord, please hep us git these young'ns safe," she prayed as the car coughed in the frigid air, then started.
"Jerry, stop that!" Joe yelled, grabbing Jerry's arm. He pulled both boys upright and shook the snow off them.
"Better come inside and take a hot bath," Mary called.
Joey started sneezing and coughing at suppertime. At bedtime, he began running a fever and complained of sore throat. Mary plied him with herbs and ointments from Marge's garden, all to no avail.
"Baby, baby, baby," Jerry taunted him. Surprisingly, Jerry did not show any symptoms. Before, when one got sick, the other automatically followed.
Mary fussed over Joey all night long, continually taking his temperature and applying cold compresses and alcohol baths to fight the temperature.
By morning, Joey showed no improvement. His temperature continued to soar. Mary was getting really alarmed. "We need to get him to a doctor," she told Joe.
It was a week before the roads were passable. Mary kept giving Joey plenty of liquids. Joey kept coughing up phlegm and looking apologetic. Mary just shushed him and hugged him. Jerry was quiet and frowning. Mary hugged him, too. "It's not your fault," she assured Jerry.
Marge's idea of "passable": Only six inches of snow covered the road. Only a few scattered flakes were falling. The icy patch that sloped directly to a 200-foot sheer drop had softened just enough to give tires a slight hold.
Joe and Mary loaded the twins into the car. Marge at first refused to stay behind. "I'm goin'. That's all," she said. But she finally gave in to reason. It made no sense to take little Alice along. Somebody had to stay with the baby. "Dear Lord, please hep us git these young'ns safe," she prayed as the car coughed in the frigid air, then started.
At first, the going was easy. The snow chains gave a comforting chattering noise as they churned through the snow. The narrow road wound higher and higher toward the pass. It started snowing harder. The snow was getting deeper and deeper. Joe could barely make out the roadway in the world of white. Despite the cold, he was sweating.
The curve out over the gorge was swept clear of snow by the high winds, but in place of the snow was a sheet of ice. Joe slowed as the chains chewed at the ice, trying to get a grip. The car slid toward the sheer drop to the icy torrent 200 feet below.
"Dear Lord, you brought us this far. Help us get through this," Joe prayed. The back tires slipped to the very edge of the precipice as Joe turned the wheel cautiously to the left. "We're in Your hands, now," Joe said. His fear suddenly left him. It was up to God. Joe had done all he could do. The next instant the shuddering tires caught hold, and the car rounded the turn. The twins, oblivious to the danger, slept soundly.
An hour later they finally reached the pass and started down. But the roadway, if anything, was even more treacherous than before. They drove on and on. Joe began to wonder if they had missed a turn in the blinding snow. They should be getting to the valley, but nothing seemed familiar. It was growing dark. "Better stop here for the night," Joe told Mary. "We'll be able to see better tomorrow." His words were confidant, but his voice betrayed doubt. He glanced at Mary. Her face was frozen. "It'll be all right," he said. "Promise."
It was the longest night either of them had experienced. They were weary, but too nervous to sleep. They bundled up with the twins in a blanket on the backseat.
Morning dawned bright and clear. The snow had stopped. Joe rubbed his eyes and stared in amazement. Directly in front of them, in plain view, was the turn he had been straining to see all the past night.
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