Whistlin' Dixie in a Nor'easter (19 page)

Now there’s no need to phone my friends at all. I’ll just surprise them instead
.
Let’s see, if I hurry I can be home for Virginia’s birthday. I’ll show up, unannounced, at her birthday lunch at the club. Woohoo! The girls and I are out of here to
morrow.

I found my suitcases up in the attic. While I was packing I decided to call Kissie back to let her know I would be home in three days. I was practically singing this time when she answered.

“Guess what, Kissie.” I didn’t even stop to say hi.

“What is it, baby?”

“I’m coming home!”

“You don’t mean it.”

“I’ll be there sometime on Friday.”

“How long can you stay?”

“
The rest of my life
,” I told her, dancing into the sitting room to empty out my drawers.

Kissie started to laugh all over again. I explained my plans about handling everything from Memphis. She let me blow off more steam and quietly listened to every word I said.

“I just can’t wait to get home,” I told her, certainly not expecting her next response.

“No, baby, you cain’t come home yet. You not suppose to run off and leave things the way they are now. You suppose to get your business straight
first. Your daddy done worked too hawd for you to run off and leave behind everything he lef’ you. The time is not right.”

“But
Kissie
,” I pleaded, “I can always come back and get my furniture later. And besides, at this point, I don’t care about the business. I just need you and Virginia and Mary Jule and Alice. I’ve got to come home, Kissie, I can’t stand it here a day longer.”

“My people always tol’ me, ‘You can stay in Hell a little while, long as you know you’re gettin’ out.’ You won’t be there forever, baby. But you cain’t leave all your fine things up there in
Ver
mont. Not your business, neither. Now don’t you be feeling sorry for yourself. It don’t help a thing. Your daddy always tol’ you, you was a fighter. When you was a little girl, he used to say, ‘Leelee be destined for greatness, she can do anything she puts her mind to’ and you can! Now you go on and get your business straight first, Memphis ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

We talked a little while longer and I finally told her good night. Somewhere, in a far-off corner of my mind, something told me she was right. I didn’t want to hear it, though, least of all from her. I wanted to hear her say, Come on home, baby, you don’t belong up there nohow. It’ll be okay; Kissie take good care of you and your little girls.
Oh God, Kissie, I want you to take care of me, just like when I was a little girl. I need you now more than ever.

I could hear Daddy’s voice, too, somehow echoing Kissie’s words of wisdom. “My baby’s a fighter. Don’t let anyone get the best of you. You can get through this, pull yourself up by your bootstraps and
be
somebody.”

Chapter Twelve

“Surely nor’easters don’t come in April.” That’s what I told Roberta when she called to report the weather forecast on April 22. She said, “Nor’easters
usually
don’t come in April, but you never know.”

Pierre was in France, Roberta was at home with Moe, and Jeb had ventured over to Maine to visit some relatives. The only people that were left at the Vermont Haus Inn were my little girls and me. And Princess Grace Kelly, of course.

When the four of us woke up Monday morning, I took one peep out the window and through the top left pane I could see only glimpses of life on the outside. Trees, rooftops, and telephone poles were my only proof that I wasn’t living in Antarctica. There was at least four more feet of snow camped out at my doorstep. Thank God the door swung inside or I swear we would have all been housebound until May.

And with Jeb out of town, my driveway would not be getting plowed. I called his house anyway, hoping Mrs. Duggar would tell me that Jeb had come back from Maine early. Instead she gave me the number of a Bud Duke, another woodchuck in town, who “
might
be able to help yous.”

I called immediately; my girls were hungry for breakfast. A woman answered
the phone and tried to size up the situation. “Bud’s been out since three this morning trying to keep up with the snow. If he had known you was out there, he would have plowed you two or three times already. Goin’ to be quite a job to clear the snow for you now. But I’ll get him on the radio and let him know he’s gut a new customer.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate this. Jeb Duggar usually plows for me but he’s out of town.”

“We require at least three foot of clearance around your car. Make sure it’s done ’fore he gets there, Bud’s on a tight schedule.”

“Will do and thank you,” I said, and hung up. I wasn’t sure what she meant so I called her right back. “Hi, it’s Leelee again, sorry to bother you, but I’m not really sure what you mean about making sure my car’s got a three-foot clearance.”

“Ain’t it covered in snow?”

“Yes. Well, actually, it’s buried in the snow.”

“Then you’ll need to shovel around it so the plow can get up to it, won’t you?”

You don’t have to be so rude about it.
“That makes sense,” I said. “I was wondering, though, do you think he’ll be here any time soon? I have to feed my children breakfast, and I’ve run out of milk.”

“Probably not ’fore noon. Lots more folks signed up ’fore you did. You’re at the end of the list,” she said, and hung up.

Shovel around the car? I never thought about it before now. Guess what, no one ever once mentioned that to me, either.

Even the schools were closed that day. After feeding the girls oatmeal for breakfast, minus the milk, I put
The Jungle Book
into the VCR. Keeping them occupied while I shoveled the “three foot of clearance” was crucial. I was guessing it might take me the full ninety minutes of the movie.

All dressed up in my ski suit, I set out to rescue my poor car. But I never made it that far. Think about it. When there’s four new feet of snow on the ground, you can’t just skip out the door. It’s like wading through Jell-O. You have to lift your legs as high as they can go and stretch them out as far as they can reach to make any progress at all. After ten minutes of walking like that, trust me, you want to scream—especially when you look up and
realize your car is still
forty feet away
. Once I even tried diving across the snow but all that did was add more ice pebbles to my hat.

During the last nor’easter, Jeb, Baker, and Pierre had stayed outside all day shoveling and snowblowing. I was inside making hot chocolate having no idea of the goings-on outside. Bitter truth was this: The only way over to my car was via a huge, red, rectangular-shaped shovel. Jeb always kept one propped up against each door. Looking back on it now, I guess it was a miracle that I’d made it four months without even touching a snow shovel.

So my luck had officially run out. I had no choice but to go for it.
This isn’t so bad
, I thought—prematurely—when I shoved my first dent into the snow and lifted a huge load. It took both arms for me to dump a big pile off to the side. I had no idea snow was so heavy. Even so I was bound and determined and I began creating a maze with white walls on either side. Every few minutes I would stop to admire my handiwork.

But there was one big ole problem. It was approaching eleven forty-five, the snowplow was due to arrive in fifteen minutes, and when I looked behind I had only cleared a four-foot trail to my car, which was still over thirty feet away. Never mind the three-foot clearance that I had to shovel once I got to my car.

Totally frustrated, I returned to the house. Unfortunately my presence distracted the girls from their movie and they started begging to come out and play with me in the snow.

“I want to make a snow girl,” Sarah began with a twinkle in her eye.

“Me too,” said Isabella, jumping up and down.

I covered my hand over the receiver. “Just a second, girls, Mommy’s on the phone. Hi, this is Leelee Satterfield again, I was wondering if Bud could push my appointment back an hour or so, I’m
still
shoveling!”

“He’s so far behind, he probably won’t be to your house ’fore four o’clock anyway.”

“Oh. Well, hmmm, I have no bread or milk in the house, but I guess it can wait until then. I’ll just see him around four. Thanks.”

“Be sure and have that car shoveled out, he’s on a tight schedule,” the woman said.

“I will,” I said, with a touch of irritation.

When I hung up the phone, Baloo the Bear was singing “The Bare Necessities” to an empty room and Sarah and Issie were by the back door tugging on their snowsuits. Every time the girls played outside I had them so bundled up they could hardly move. Their little arms stuck straight out due to all the extra layers.

“Mommy, will you make a snow girl with us?” Isabella pleaded, as she waddled outside along my path.

“No, first I want to go sledding. Then we’ll make a snow girl. Where’s my sled?” Sarah asked, tugging on my sleeve.

“Hold on a minute, girls, I’ve got to shovel out our car so the snowplow man can get our driveway all clean.”

“No, I want you to make a snow girl.” While Isabella begged and begged, I noticed her little freckled nose was already red.

“I know,” Sarah said. “We can make a snow house. Come on, Isabella.”

The situation went from grave to ghastly. The snow was way taller than Isabella and, in some spots, taller than Sarah’s head. But my strong-minded daughters were determined,
at first
, to frolic in the snow. Glaring problem number two: The only place they could actually play was in the path I’d already cleared and it was getting filled up again from their attempts to build a snow house. Every time I’d get back to my shoveling, someone would start crying from getting stuck in the snow.

Let me stop right here and give all Southerners some headline news. Snow and little children
do not mix
. It’s not a winning combination. There is nothing fun or the least bit enjoyable about it at all.

By this time my blood had reached the boiling point and I ended up raising my voice and demanding that Sarah and Isabella go back to their movie. Amid tears and drippy noses, they stomped back inside. “I’ll be in soon, just finish your movie.”

For the next
two hours
I shoveled my way to the car, amid various interruptions from my cranky little girls. They were hungry, they were bored, and they wanted me to read them a story. The longer I shoveled, the crankier they became. At one point I looked up to see Isabella in the window
with big tears rolling down her cheeks and a wide-open mouth. “MOMMY” was all I could make out in between the long breaths she held in as she rapped on the window.

There was no telling what kind of mischief Sarah was up to, as I hadn’t heard a peep out of her. Nanny Princess was keeping watch, I’m sure, safely inside where it was warm. She never even considered a stroll outdoors.
That’s another reason I have to get to the store
, I thought.
More newspapers.

Actually, it was a good thing I was working as hard as I was or I would have never made it through the frigid temperature. It never got above five degrees that day. My toes were completely numb (I was out of toe heaters), and my fingers felt like they were hiding somewhere in my gloves. With all the oomph I had left in my body, I heaved and hoed, pushed and pulled, trying my best to shovel an alleyway around my car—with three feet of clearance.

As I firmly gripped the shovel handle, my mind drifted to that familiar place. I started obsessing, for the one thousandth time, about
him
. Why is this my job?
I never asked for this. I had no desire to ever move up here. I DID IT FOR YOU
, my mind shrieked.
Alice has been right about you all these years. You do love people with money, and the fatter the wallet the better.

There was no way around it. Husband or not, my life had to go on. Shoveling snow was only the beginning. I was going to have to operate a business, manage my money,
buy my own cars
, and raise my little girls all on my own.

“She’s amazing, huh?” I finally screamed out to the frosty air. “I’ll show you amazing. And she loves the outdoors! Oh, really? And does she still love the outdoors when the silicone in her huge, fake boobs
starts freezing
?”

I pushed my glove back to look at my watch. Four o’clock. At best, I could squeeze around the car with a half foot of room,
if
I was lucky. But, at least I had done it! Actually, when I leaned back and looked at it I was kind of proud of my handiwork. I wanted to pull up a chair and sit back and stare at it, to tell you the truth. But the more I stared at it, the more obvious it became that something wasn’t right. On the hood, the trunk, and the top of my car, four feet of snow was still heaped up. That snow had
to come off. And the only place it could go was straight down into my two-hours’-worth-of-labor alley!

I snapped. This wild woman took over my body. She started running around the car and cussing at the snow, waving the shovel above her head. “Get the hell away from my car,” the wild woman screamed. “I want to go home. Do you hear me?
Home.
Somebody get me out of this godforsaken winter wasteland and back to civilization! Who’s ever heard of snow falling in the dead of spring anyway?” Frantically, this crazy person started pushing the snow off the car, paying no mind to the fact that my alley was filling back up at a rate of speed ninety times faster than I had cleared it away!

Then the wild woman hurled the snow shovel as far as her strength could manage and stormed back down the narrow, barely passable, crooked path and into the house, kicking her snow boots off. One hit the sitting room ceiling and fell back down and clobbered her on the head. That made her even madder and she ripped off her snowsuit and flung her hat and gloves around the room. Without hesitation, she punched in the seven numbers to Duke Excavating and had the nerve to use my name.