Bluebird Winter

Bluebird Winter

Instantly Kathleen drew herself up. There was nothing to gain by letting herself panic. She had to<br />clear her mind and concentrate on nothing but driving, because her baby's life depended on it. The<br />baby was all she had left. Everything else was gone: her parents; her marriage; her self-confidence;<br />her faith and trust in people. Only the baby was left, and herself. She still had herself. The two of<br />them had each other, and they didn't need anyone else. She would do anything to protect her baby.<br />Breathing deeply, she forced herself to be calm. With deliberate movements, she inserted the key<br />in the ignition and turned it. The starter turned slowly, and a new fear intruded. Was the battery<br />too cold to generate enough power to start the old motor? But then the motor roared into life, and<br />the truck vibrated beneath her. She sighed in relief and turned on the wipers to clear the snow<br />from the windshield. They beat back and forth, laboring under the icy weight of the packed snow.<br />It was so cold! Her breath fogged the air, and she was shivering despite the layers of clothing<br />she wore. Her face felt numb. She reached up to touch it and found that she was still covered<br />with snow. Slowly she wiped her face and dusted the flakes from her hair.<br />The increasing pressure in her lower body made it difficult for her to hold in the clutch, but she<br />wrestled the stubborn gearshift into the proper position and ground her teeth against the pressure<br />as she let out the clutch. The truck moved forward.<br />Visibility was even worse than she had expected. She could barely make out the fence that ran<br />alongside the road. How easy it would be to run off the road, or to become completely lost in the<br />white nightmare! Creeping along at a snail's pace, Kathleen concentrated on the fence line and<br />tried not to think about the things that could happen.<br />She was barely a quarter of a mile down the road when another contraction laced her stomach in<br />iron bands. She gasped, jerking in spite of herself, and the sudden wrench of the steering wheel<br />sent the old truck into a skid. "No!" she groaned, bracing herself as the truck began going<br />sideways toward the shallow ditch alongside the road. The two right wheels landed in the ditch<br />with an impact that rattled her teeth and loosened her grip from the steering wheel. She cried out<br />again as she was flung to the right, her body slamming into the door on the passenger side.<br />The contraction eased a moment later. Panting, Kathleen crawled up the slanting seat and wedged<br />herself behind the steering wheel. The motor had died, and anxiously she put in the clutch and slid<br />the shift into neutral, praying she could get the engine started again. She turned the key, and once<br />again the truck coughed into life.<br />But the wheels spun uselessly in the icy ditch, unable to find traction. She tried rocking the truck<br />back and forth, putting it first in reverse, then in low gear, but it didn't work. She was stuck.<br />Tiredly, she leaned her head on the steering wheel. She was only a quarter of a mile from the house,<br />but it might as well have been twenty miles in this weather. The wind was stronger, visibility almost<br />zero. Her situation had gone from bad to worse. She should have stayed at the house. In trying to save<br />her baby, she had almost certainly taken away its only chance for survival.