4 Sisters of the Apocalypse

61- Meg

Meg

As we pulled up to the cozy cabin in the woods I noticed something out of the ordinary. "Rory there aren't any lights on!"

"I thought you said this place doesn't have electricity."

"Dad's got quite a few oil lamps. Something's not right. Look at the chimney!"

"Meg, I can hardly see the chimney. Let's not panic. Maybe your dad went into town."

"Rory, there is no town! And his Rav 4 is right over there." I pointed to a snow covered car-sized lump."

Rory ran around to my car door and opened it for me."  I daydreamed, wondering if he'll still open doors for me once we're married. My dad did. He never stopped treating my mom like a queen. "Dad!"

Rory tried reassuring me. "Maybe he's asleep. There's not much to do out here after dark."

Rory led me by the arm and walked me up the few snow laden steps to the cabin. I muttered, "This is not right... Dad always shovels... "

Rory knocked on the door. "Mr. March, It's Rory and Meg."

I knocked too. "Daddy, don't be alarmed. We wanted to make sure you're okay."

I heard my dad mumbling from inside. "He's in there!" I jiggled the door knob. "Dad! It's locked. Open the door please." Then I heard my dad's faint voice and next a loud THUD! "Daddy! Rory, you gotta open the door!"

Rory put his shoulder into it and rammed the handcrafted solid wood cabin door. "Ouch! It's not budging and it's hard to get traction on this slippery porch."

Using my phone as a flashlight I scrambled around at the base of the stairs searching for the right rock. "Got it!" 

Rory rubbed his sore shoulder. "You coulda told me there's a hide-a-key."

I stuck out my lower lip. "So sorry, not sorry!" I smiled. "I had a childhood memory of dad doing the same exact thing. My mother got a hide-a-key thing the next day. Dad joked and said, 'No one's gonna crack that code.''

I fiddled with the key. It wouldn't turn. "Oh no, maybe dad's changed the locks!"

"Nah...I doubt anyone would break in, way out here." Rory took the key and tried to get it to budge.

Panicked, I shouted, "We are! We're way out here trying to break in!"

Rory breathed hot air into the keyhole. "I think it's just a bit frozen. Do you have a lighter?"

I got a bit testy. "Why would I have a lighter Rory? I don't smoke."

Rory continued breathing into the keyhole. He stopped to say something brilliant. "Well you're always lighting those scented candles so I thought..."

Annoyed, I replied, "Like I keep a Yankee Candle in my purse!" Then I remembered I had packed a few mini candles and a small lighter in my overnight bag. What can I say? Scented candles calm me. I rummaged through my bag in the back of the jeep and came out with a vanilla cake scented candle and a lime green mini torch. "Use this!"

Rory couldn't resist. "Better light one of your lavender scented babies too. We can use serenity now."

"Funny Rory." I had already put the lavender candle in my coat pocket but I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction.

Once Rory melted the bit of ice in the keyhole the door opened properly. That's when we saw Dad collapsed on the chunky braided rug gasping for air.

I ran to my father. "Daddy! It's me Meg. We're here now."

Rory handed me a scratchy couch cushion to raise my father's head. I looked around for some water. His glass was empty. "Is there any water in the pot by the wood stove?

Rory got right to work. He handed me the pot of water then he turned on an oil light on the kitchen table.  "I'll put a few logs on the fire Meg. Is there anything else I can do?"

I tried to make a joke. "Call 911."

The joke flew right over Rory's beautiful head. "But there's no service up here."

I didn't have the heart or energy to explain, "Fill up the empty oil lamps and see if the water pump still works."

Rory got a nice fire going. Then he attempted to get water from the hand pump in the kitchen. "I think the pump's frozen. As soon as it gets toasty in here it should work. In the meantime I'll gather a few pots of snow and melt them by the fire."

Rory's resourcefulness  melted my heart. "If my father wasn't so sick I'd say this could be a perfect honeymoon cabin. Then I talked to my inner self. "Get ahold of yourself Meg! This is no time for romantic nonsense."

My dad moaned. "Mary? Mary, I need my glasses..."

"Dad, it's me Meg. Rory is with me. You remember Rory doncha dad?" I felt my dad's forehead. "You have a fever." I tried giving him small sips of water. "You need to drink this dad. Your temperature is too high."

As if he could read my mind Rory handed me a dusty first aid kit. "I found this in one of the cabinets."

I pulled out the thermometer. "Open up your mouth dad. Put this under your tongue." After the thermometer beeped I read the findings allowed. "103.1 Rory this is not good! My dad's too old to have a temperature this high."

Dad mumbled, "Who you calling old, squirt?"

Rory grabbed a hold of my hand. "He's making jokes, that's gotta be a good sign right?"

I looked up at Rory. "The March family makes jokes. It's what we do. If a nuclear bomb were heading our way someone would inevitably say, 'Let's look on the bright side...'  Someone else would quote Willy Wonka, 'The suspense is killing me. I hope it'll last.''

Rory whispered, "That's what I love about your family. You may make jokes and--"
I finished Rory's sentence. "--fight."

"Okay Meg what you call fighting I call communicating. My dad and I barely talk. I hope you and I will have a marriage like your mom and dad's"

Dad's eyes rolled into the back of his head. "Daddy! Stay with me! I'm gonna need you to walk me down the aisle! Dad!"

Rory got a dish towel and packed it with snow and laid it across my father's forehead. The convulsion subsided. After a while his fever went down to 101.5. We weren't outta the woods yet.

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