Bluebird Winter

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