|
Mrs. McKinley is a long time coming to the door. She has a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and she’s pale. Her face brightens, though, when she sees us. She invites us in and scrambles to straighten the magazines scattered on the coffee table in the living room. I take off my jacket, lay it on the couch, and immediately wish I hadn’t because the place can’t be more than fifty-five degrees.
Something in the kitchen catches my eye. Mrs. McKinley asks me something but my whole focus is on the oven, visible through the kitchen’s entrance. The oven door is wide open. I rush in and find it blazing, the temperature set to five hundred degrees.
“What’s going on?”
Mrs. McKinley comes in behind me and closes the oven door, her face bright red. “I was just trying to take the chill out of the air.”
“With the oven? That’s what your wood stove is for.” I look back into the living room. I don't need to approach the wood stove to know it's cold. “You’re out of wood, aren’t you?” I say. It’s more of a statement than a question.
Mrs. McKinley stares at me, her eyes wide, as though I’ve caught her doing something wrong. There’s nothing I can do but go over and wrap my arms around her. Morgen stands and stares, and I have to fight back tears.
“Is there no more social assistance you can receive?” I ask.
She shakes her head, no.
“I’ll bring some wood over for you,” I say, trying to remember how much we have. I know there’s about a cord left, and if I have Scott bring over some of that, we should all be able to make it.
“Melanie,” she says, snapping me out of my thoughts. “I’m okay. The cold spell will only last a couple days, and then it’ll be spring and it’ll warm up. I’ll make it. It’s okay.”
I take a deep breath and sit down on her couch. Morgen sits next to me and looks at her book, her jacket still on.
“You’re the one we should be worried about,” Mrs. McKinley says.
I’m surprised by this. “Why?”
“You don’t look very good. Are you sleeping?”
“I’m fine. Yes, I’m fine.” I’m not the one using my oven to warm my house. I’m not the one who’s alone and forgotten.
“You don’t look fine,” she says. “You look stressed and tired.” She motions to Morgen. “You have a beautiful daughter and you need to think about her. Everything you do needs to be to make her life better. Her generation needs to be taken care of so they don’t end up like us.”
My heart is beating out of my chest. Everything I do is for Morgen. I’m trying to make a difference. I’m trying to help people and make things better. I want to tell her that I don’t know what else to do. But I don’t. Instead, I get my coat back on and tell her that we’ll be back with some wood.
I put on a CD in the car for Morgen to sing along to, and I drive in silence. I think of the webinar I attended when I first started at the radio station, how inspired I had been to work extra hard to get funding for special projects. That work was supposed to make a difference. But what good has it done? What difference has it made? Mrs. McKinley isn’t any better off.
At home I cook dinner while Morgen colors, the lamp on the table casting enough light into the kitchen for me to cook by. When we’re done we run a load of wood and a plate of food up to Mrs. McKinley’s.
“We’ll bring some more tomorrow,” I promise.
When Scott gets home that night I put on my jacket and tell him I have things to do at work. I’ll be back in an hour.
I drive to the station, go in the back door, and turn on the lights in my office. When my computer’s powered up, I load a search engine and type in “Salt Spring Island.” There’s pictures on websites of various places around the island: Beddis Beach with its white shell pieces, Ruckle Park with its dramatic coastline and views of the ferry sauntering by, and the quaint village of Ganges with its organic restaurants, coffee houses, and locally-owned shops.
I remember these places as I scroll through a list of jobs available in the area, clicking on each one. I remember how I used to feel, walking among the wildflowers that lined Sophie’s driveway. It was hard not to feel at peace there. Stress and negativity were so out of place that there was almost no choice but to leave them behind.
75/83 首页 上一页 73 74 75 76 77 78 下一页 尾页
|
