Christmas Treasures (excerpt)

9   S.O.S.

 

 

     After bundling tight against the bitter cold outside the cozy little encampment and checking the charge on his phone, Z. Tyler protected the gadget with warmth by placing it in his woolen shirt pocket under the quilted vest and goose down parka. With the hood of the long coat tightly secured, he donned his fur lined leather gloves, whistled for Goldie, flashed that gleaming white-tooth smile, said a cheerful, “See you soon,” gave a quick wave and pushed aside the heavy boughs of the huge pine tree. Filtered snow, like fine sugar sifted through a screen for use in baking a cake, floated down upon Bapa as the boy and his dog exited the shelter.

     “Ah! And a beautiful day it is, Goldie, my friend,” Bapa heard the boy say to the dog in an exaggerated, faux Irish brogue. Then, the old man listened as the crunching footsteps of his grandson and Goldie faded away, retreating from their shelter and advancing up the hillside.

     Trying to sit in a more upright position, now that he had a bit of privacy from prying eyes that would have scolded him for such unnecessary exertion, the old man winced in pain as his tender right shoulder let him know that he was neither so young as once he had been nor as quick to recover from a severe injury. He settled back against the homemade litter, resigned to the fact that he had taken a very hard fall and that he might have to take it easy, at least, for a few days.

     No wind stirred in the tree above him; scant cracks of blue sky through the thick green canopy of pine needles greeted his purview as he slightly moved his head, trying to catch a glimpse of the day. That the sun was bright he could easily discern from the brightness within the little enclave; a high pressure center would have followed the low which had brought the snow the night before. As the day wore on, the temperature would rise, not much above freezing, but warm enough to eat away at the white fluff; all in all, promise of a good day was at hand and the Chinook seemed to be right on time. He wished he had asked Z. Tyler for another cup of hot tea before the boy took his leave; nothing to do now, but, wait for his return; shouldn’t be very long.

     He closed his eyes. meaning to relax for just a moment or two; the old man fell fast asleep within a few seconds. Suddenly, a face-full of cold snow plopped on his skin, bringing him wide awake in an instant. He wiped his eyes clear and came face to face with a red fox squirrel sitting on a branch just above him. Bapa laughed; the furry critter must have been nesting in that big old pine tree and came down to investigate the unwelcome intruders in his home. He barked raucously at the vagrant, urging the miscreant to vacate the squirrel’s private domain.

     “Listen! ‘Rocky!’” Bapa said aloud, trying to intimidate the rodent so that he would leave, “You might live here, but I needed lodging for the night. Now, you just relax; I’ll be gone in an hour or so.” Laughing at his own greeting to the red squirrel, he added, “I sure hope Bullwinkle didn’t come with you. It might get a bit cramped in here if a moose shows up.”

     The irritated landlord fussed a bit longer and then gave it up; he had more important business to occupy his day than worrying with a trespasser who seemed to offer no harmful intent. Bapa was glad when the furry creature exited his perch for greener pastures; pound for pound, squirrel were the toughest and most fearless animal he knew of, except, maybe for a badger. Squirrel could be physically destructive, due largely to their playful curiosity and insatiable  penchant for entertainment through constant fun and games; mostly, badgers were purposely pernicious.

      Relaxing after the comical incident, he looked around the tidy camp, now bathed in full light.

     The old man smiled his approval. That boy, “young man”, he corrected his errant thought, sure did a bang-up job with the entire challenge. He had aided Bapa, found shelter in quick order, tended to the horses, built a fire and laid in a nice supply of wood. He saw to it that they were well-lodged and well-fed, comfortable, with the stock sheltered to in a proper manner and, considering their dire predicament under uncomfortable circumstances, not the least of which was the old man’s serious injuries, the boy had been upbeat, downright helpful, happy and of good spirit, truly hopeful. Not once did he complain nor whine about the ordeal; he just took over, did what needed doing and performed flawlessly. His natural confidence in his ability had been a big comfort to Bapa in his pain. He had handled the situation with perfection.

     Nanny and Bapa had always been most proud of their progeny, their girls and these four grandchildren; each one, they realized, was a blessing beyond any this life has to offer, save their mutual love for one another; and, they cherished their family. The old man was especially proud of Z. Tyler for the way he had risen to the occasion in this tragedy. He was a fine man. Bapa smiled with satisfaction through the warmth of love in his heart that the boy had proven himself.

     A myriad swarm of tiny grains of icy pellets fell on the old man’s face again, melting upon contact with his warm skin; bright blue eyes fluttered open as he awoke from a sound sleep. He expected to see a recurrence of the red cousin to the chipmunk; instead, Goldie greeted him by placing his forepaws on Bapa’s chest. Z. Tyler shuffled into the warmth of the little campsite; his cheeks were rosy red and his nose could have belonged to Rudolph!

     “Sorry, to wake you, Bapa,” the boy began, by way of apology. “We didn’t mean to cover you with snow. I guess I should have announced our return instead of just barging in; I should have figured that you might be asleep.” He added several logs to the fire as he spoke.

     Wiping his damp face of the melted fine snow, Bapa tried to hide his embarrassment that the boy had found him asleep. “That’s alright, Z.,” he laughed, “I guess I got so busy thinking about how you did such a good job handling everything, well, the time just sort of slipped away and I dozed off. I should be the one who’s sorry.” He averted his eyes to the blazing fire.

     Z. Tyler was a truly humble individual, like all good men; he simply shrugged off the compliment. Bapa took notice of the subtlety; it added to his magnetic character charms.

     “It is one fantastic day, Bapa,” he allowed, readying water for boiling in preparation of some hot tea and rummaging in the knapsack for a tidbit of food. His grandfather smiled.

     “It is pretty nippy. Actually,” he corrected his own conclusion, “it’s downright frigid. Probably around twenty degrees, give or take a few. But, the sun is bright and it is clear as a bell. By noon, I think it’ll warm to the freezing mark; might even melt a little of the new snow before nightfall. Wind is coming up in the last ten minutes or so; I do believe that Chinook you predicted is on the way, right out of the south!” He smiled, knowingly; Bapa nodded.

     “And our rescue patrol?” Bapa inquired.

     “On the way, too,” he smiled, pleased at the news he was delivering. “Dad and Alex were fueling the snowmobiles getting ready to come searching for us when I got Nanny on the phone. I had her call them into the house and she relayed your message about the snow sled and the direction they should come with the truck and trailer.”

     Bapa’s eyes asked the question the boy was about to answer.

     Laughing, holding his hand palm out toward his grandfather, he added, “I told Nanny that you are okay, a bit bruised and sore, but that you’ll be just fine.

     “You know Nanny. She took it like a trooper as I told the story of your rodeo performance on the mountain. She made some comment about how we’d just have to find a new beach for our summer outings,” he paused. Then, added, “After all her show of courage and bravery, she finally cried and asked if you really were okay.” They both laughed at that.

     “Just one of the reasons I love her so much,” Bapa allowed; then, he wiped a tear from his own eye as Z. Tyler pretended not to notice, busying himself with tea preparations. As always, he was truly amazed at the strong bond of love between his grandparents. Secretly, he had often prayed for just such a loving relationship with his own spouse; he believed that he had found that heavenly happiness in Mary Theresa. Like he had so often heard Bapa do with Nanny, Z. Tyler was already calling M. T. a saint; he fully expected to promote her to angel status, very soon!

     “Everybody there is fine,” he added. “Mary Theresa is resting. No news---yet!”

     Bapa nodded. “That first one is always the hardest; worrying about all the things that might happen, but seldom ever do.” He paused. Then, “Of course, the womenfolk might take issue with me on that ‘first one’ being the hardest.” He smiled, “upon reflection, I know they would.”

     When the water boiled, Z. Tyler fixed them each a piping hot cup of tea and rustled up some bread and sausage and jelly for a snack while they waited for rescue by Graig and Alex.

     “If they don’t get here soon,” Bapa laughed around a mouthful of sandwich, “’Ole Sam will come up short on provisions for the winter and I’ll weigh more than I need to.” He swallowed and took another taste of hot tea. “Umm! I’m going to quit complaining. This is good!”

     Both men laughed; they enjoyed an easy manner between them, each had a good sense of humor and their keen kinship was much deeper than any simple family-blood relationship. They ate in silence then, sipping their tea and delighting in one another’s company. Such moments were natural, they could never be planned nor choreographed nor pretended; these special times were the events of a lifetime that became special memories dear to the heart. Events born of love and mutual respect contain the essence which is the very sanctity of a life worth living. When such a sacred circumstance comes about, that adventure is a celestial blessing to be savored.

     Several minutes elapsed with each man lost in his personal thoughts while somehow enmeshed in those of the other, like a dream which reflects reality so closely that the participants are relegated to real life energies. Z. Tyler broached the obfuscated divination between dreamed fantasy and experienced reality, not of a purpose, for he could have never guessed where his remark might have led, but, rather, by happenstance of his innate sense of humility.

     “Bapa,” he began, tentatively, absolute seriousness in his quiet tone, “I appreciate what you said about my ability and aptitude. Thank you, for that kindness.” He trailed off, as though contemplating what he meant to say next and wondering if it was appropriate; he never contradicted his grandfather and would not disrespect him or his judgment in any manner, both out of love and because of respect. The perceptive elder could almost read his thoughts.

     “Son,” he began, coaxing the boy to continue by giving his agreement to hear him out, “it’s always best to clear your conscience by saying what’s on your mind.” He nodded his permission.

     Z. Tyler looked toward the fire, then, hesitatingly continued with occasional fleeting glances toward the patient old man who seemed to sense how profound this revelation might be.

     “Well, I know how much you love me, and, the others, too. But, something has bothered me since that deer hunt back when I was eleven.” He looked into his grandfather’s soft eyes as though the boy was searching for the proper way to state his case; he was reluctant to continue.

     “Yeah! I well remember that day,” Bapa mused, the mental image clear in his memory.

     Z. Tyler swallowed, hard. He had carried this burden in his heart for many years; why he had chosen this moment to bring the issue to light, he could not reason, but, he felt it was right.

     “What you just said about me, I mean, about the way I handled things since the accident yesterday and all, well, that hunting trip back then,” he paused, this was not coming out the way he had intended. Bapa waited; he did not want to intimidate the boy. Obviously, this was important to Z. Tyler; best to let him say it in his own way.

     The young man swallowed again; this was getting harder, not easier. Then, his Bapa smiled as though he understood and that he harbored no ill will toward Z. Tyler for his pending confession.

     “I always felt as though I had disappointed you, somehow. Like you expected more of me and that had I let you down,” he blurted, a quaver in his usually strong voice. This time it was the young man’s turn to wipe an escaping tear from the corner of his eye; he did not look away.

     Bapa smiled and reached a hand to touch the boy’s outstretched fingers.

     “Son, of all the exciting hunts I’ve been on, the many fine fishing trips, trekking around the woods, the mountains, experiencing the goodness of nature in the great outdoors, living each day’s adventure as the sacred gift it is, as a wondrous event, as one more chance to challenge this old world on its terms, but in my time, that deer hunt means more to me than all the rest---combined. It was your first giant step in a man’s boots. You have never disappointed me. Not in the least. Ever! You have been a real man and I am extremely proud of you. Always!”

     His eyes softened and he squeezed his grandson’s hand, slightly, before releasing his grasp.