Opening the utility drawer, I collected the handful of mini-flashlights that matched mine, which I’d purchased from one of the TV shopping networks. Returning to the others, I handed them out. “These are great. They’ll help you navigate through the house. Keep them close. Maggie, you know where I store the lighters and matches. Would you light the candles in the kitchen and breakfast nook? Sybil, upstairs in your room, the bathroom, and the master suite, there are battery-operated candles like these.” I picked up the nearest one and flipped the switch on the bottom. “Would you take care of those? I’ll feed this fire and then go upstairs to check on the other. We’ll really need the fireplace heat now.”
“You don’t think the power will come back on?” Carly asked.
I didn’t, but opted for a hedge. “I’m not sure.”
“Do you suppose they’ve lost power in town, too?”
If they hadn’t, perhaps the electric co-operative that provided our county’s service might not yet be inundated with calls and would be able to make it out to this area and get us back online. However, the way the snow was coming down, the roads had to already be treacherous, which all but obliterated any glimmer of hope.
My delay in answering had Dana asking bravely, “I’ll bet it went out there an hour ago, if not sooner. What can we do to help, Retta?”
I saw Carly was already hugging Wrigley, who was shivering in her arms, and said, “You two are perfect right where you are. This is central command for all of us.” I could see that Rosie was glancing around with a wary look, too. “The dogs need reassurance and so do we. If you hear any popping outside, or smell something like smoke, holler. This blackout could be from a nearby blown transformer or downed line, as easily as a problem at one of the substations.”
“I didn’t know that,” Carly said. “Could the house catch fire?”
“Hopefully, the problem isn’t that close, but we’re going to stay observant,” I replied. “I’ll look out the side and back windows to make certain. Maggie, you check the front.”
It wasn’t my intention to sound melodramatic, but they needed to appreciate worst-case scenarios. With a parting wave, I moved on to do what sixty-one years of living on a ranch had taught me, while mentally doing a quick recap to recall what else I needed to check.
The refrigerator!
If we didn’t get power restored in a few hours, I would have to periodically turn on the generator. Yesterday, I had filled a few gas containers, but I hadn’t purchased enough to run the thing around the clock for more than two days or so. Eventually, we might have to bring out the ice chests from storage. There wasn’t a huge supply of ice cubes, but I suspected that by then we would have plenty of snow to keep perishables safe.
For the next few minutes we were a strange combination of musicians and mechanics, eclectic in our dialogue with each other, which interestingly, created a reassuring melody of its own. Acoustics were provided by doors slamming, cabinets thumping, while footsteps kept an excited beat on the hardwood floors. Outside, the wind continued to howl as the Arctic Vortex kept blasting its way through Texas. It was quite intimidating, and a far cry from how we’d expected to spend the evening enjoying Bing Crosby and company’s gentle finale of White Christmas. From the continued wail of the wind, I could almost imagine that tomorrow, we would wake to radio reports about the concern for glaciers in the Gulf of Mexico.
When we reunited in the living room, I was a bit breathless from the adrenaline rush, as much as the racing about. Carly and Dana remained saucer-eyed, hunkering under their blankets with Wrigley all but hidden between them. In front of the fireplace, Rosie had tucked herself into a tighter ball, her nose buried under the denser fur of her tail.
“What happens now?” Carly asked.
I couldn’t allow this setback, serious as it was, to depress us. “We do what the pioneers did,” I told her. “Although we’re still much better off.”
“What do you mean?” Dana was looking increasingly uncertain. “Is this a bad time to tell you that I was never much for camping? Please tell me the toilets won’t stop flushing?”
I chuckled. “They’ll work fine. I’ll have to periodically turn on the generator to trigger the pump for the reservoir to refill but, otherwise, we’re good. You’ll also continue to have hot water for a shower or bath, provided no one overindulges.”
Seeing their unhappy expressions, I spread my arms, summoning an enthusiasm I hoped was contagious. “Come on, we’re having an adventure! Carly, you voiced curiosity about the early colonists. Now we’ll get a little taste of what it was like for our forefathers who first came to this land.”
“Not quite,” Maggie said, pulling her cell phone out of her pocket. She must have accidentally touched the screen enough that it lit, ready to perform.
“Put that away,” I told her. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be under these conditions. Save the battery.” Turning back to the younger two, I continued, “We’re missing out on the best songs in the movie, so let’s sing them ourselves.”
Instead, Maggie began an off-key rendition to the melody of The Twelve Days of Christmas, “On the first day of the storm, the power went out . . .”
“A little more ‘glass half full,’ if you please.” Sybil’s dour tone made her sound as though she was reprimanding one of her students.
Catching on, Dana laughingly offered with perfect pitch, “I’m dreaming of a white Thanksgiving.”
As much as I appreciated the return of their humor, I had to warn, “If you keep thinking about cold conditions, even a bonfire won’t keep you warm. How about something livelier? Sybil, I’ve heard you sing Tina Turner at an Arts Alliance fundraiser. That would get anyone’s blood flowing.”
Dana thrust aside her blanket and wriggled off the couch. “I want to hear some of that.”
As she waddled in her sock-clad feet to the piano, Sybil covered her face with her hands in what looked like a gesture of mortification, only to squeal like a teenager. In the next moment, she leaned over to roll up her pants legs. “I always said, God didn’t give me and Tina these for nothing.”
Carly hooted in pleasure and clapped her hands.
From her laid back seat at the far end of the couch, Maggie raised her wine glass in salute. “That’s the spirit!”
Gingerly situating herself on the bench, Dana ran her fingers over the keyboard. Then she glanced over her shoulder at Sybil, and started playing the first notes of Proud Mary. “Do you know that one?”
“Indeed, I do,” Sybil said, and began to croon.
I have witnessed Sybil bringing a church congregation to tears with her spiritual rendition of Amazing Grace, but within a few bars, she had us all on our feet, swaying and clapping with her sexy version of Tina’s lusty song. We were all breathless at the end of that performance and Dana gave us an opportunity to recover by again getting whimsical at the keyboard. That’s when I got another idea.
“Dana, do you know Rod Stewart’s Maggie May? For years Maggie had my kids convinced he wrote those lyrics for her.”
“You can’t prove that he didn’t.” Maggie countered, sounding more like her old self.
Dana played several bars and asked Maggie, “Do you remember the words?”
“Only for a private audience, darling.”
Dana gave Maggie an intrigued look. “So where was he in your line of conquests?”
“Oh . . . before von Horn to be sure. Andre, the Grand Prix racer,” she said, clearly aware