A frazzled twenty-four-year-old Francine Hope drove through the snow coated streets with her six-year-old son Tommy. The plan was to get far enough away from Los Angeles and the horrific memories it held for her. It was important to just drive north on the I-5, across Oregon to Washington state and not look back. But she was not prepared to travel across different climate zones, sunny LA one day and snowy Seattle a few days later. Tommy had never experienced snow before. It excited him to look straight ahead as the white snowflakes collided against the windshield from the black evening sky. He imagined they were soaring through outer space as the stars were whizzing by. Everything they owned was packed in their small Honda Civic, that suddenly stopped working in an unfamiliar snow bound neighborhood.
“Oh, man . . .” she said turning the wheel to slide the car on the ice, causing the front tire to rest abruptly against the sidewalk curb. Checking out her son, she said,
“Are you okay baby?” Tommy was smiling,
“Wow, that was fun, let’s do it again.”
“Stay right here, let me check it out, I’ll be right back.” Relieved, she got out and looked around, not knowing where they were. Luckily the street was deserted that time of night, but the snow flurries and winds were getting stronger. They landed in front a darkened gas station, obviously closed for the night. Its adjacent small store had a sign reading Kory-Mart. The street was eerily dark except for a light in a top floor corner room of a nearby house.
“Okay,” she said while bundling up Tommy and taking her backpack out of the car. Taking him by the hand, they started trudging towards the big house against the swirling snow.
“Where are we going mommy?”
“Right there baby,” pointing to the light at the top room in the snow-covered tower. They walked up the slippery driveway and onto the creaking stairs on the covered porch. Relieved to be out of the harsh weather, Francine rang the bell with no answer. She rapped hard on the wooden door and again, no response. Max peered through the porch curtain to see a shivering young woman clutching a child, both bundled in layers of sweaters and thin coats, obviously not prepared for the snow. They were turning to leave as Francine was trying to figure out their next move when the door slowly screeched opened. Even in his mid-eighties he was still a large imposing figure.
“Yeah, what do you want?” he said in a booming voice. Tommy was frightened and hid behind his mother.
“Sir, our car broke down on the street by the gas station and we were wondering if we could use your phone?” It was only two days before Christmas and Francine was scared and in despair, down to her last straw. Hoping for any sign of empathy from the universe because in reality, she had no money, no cell phone, nowhere else to be and no one to call. Max started to growl and just stood at the door, deciding what to do, when a sweet voice called out from behind him,
“Stop being such a Scrooge! You poor dears, of course come on in out of the cold.” Kathy showed them inside and lead them down the hallway into the dark kitchen. Max removed the sheets covering the table and chairs as she lit candles around the room and continued to explain,
“There, that’s better, now we can see each other. Sorry for the mess, we hardly use the downstairs anymore, we live upstairs. That’s why it took us a little time to get down here to answer the door.” A small wood burning stove sat in the corner of the kitchen next to a box of firewood and kindling. Max loaded and lit the firebox and soon the crackling flames started to heat up the room. Rubbing his hands together in satisfaction he said,
“Wow, I haven’t done that in years, haven’t lost my touch,” and winked at the small boy. Offering more assistance he said,
“Let’s get you out of those wet coats.” He hung them along with her backpack on the wall rack to dry by the fire. Francine noticed a child’s woolen hat hanging on the end hook with the name JOHNNY stitched across the turned-up rim. Kathy put a kettle on to boil and smiling she asked the little boy,
“Do you like hot chocolate young man? because I sure do.” He smiled back and nodded. Max watched the whole Norman Rockwell scene unfold, warmed by his wife’s compassionate heart. She brought out the cups of hot chocolate and sat across from their forlorn guests and asked,
“Marshmallows, right?” and Tommy nodded with a big grin. Max sat down too and said,
“Okay, just relax for a while and get warm. I’m Max McKay and this is my wife, Kathy.”
“Hi, thanks so much for helping us. I’m Francine Hope and this is my son, Tommy.”
“Hi there Tommy,” said a smiling Kathy. Max took a sip of his hot chocolate that left him with a white marshmallow mustache, causing Tommy to laugh out loud.
“Oops. . .” Max smiled and continued after wiping the white foam from his lip,
“Nice to meet you. Now I have two questions for you, Francine. Why on earth are you out there in this kind of weather and what are you running from?”
to be continued