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Thrown Out at 78, She Wintered in an Idaho Ranger Cabin — In January, a Stranger Knocked… — Transcript

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0:00At 78, Ruth Ann Gentry stood behind her
0:03son's garage in Boise and watched Kevin
0:05put a new lock on her little room.
0:08He had sold her house that fall and
0:10called the room a gift and he kept her
0:13keys, her bank card, and Ben's chair.
0:16She left with a sleeping bag and $40 and
0:19he went inside without looking back.
0:22She drove to an Idaho Ranger cabin the
0:25Forest Service wrote off long ago, miles
0:28of snow up, 10 below, wood for a week.
0:32Under three blankets, she felt the stone
0:34wall stay warm after the fire died and
0:37cold air smelling of cedar rose through
0:40the floor.
0:41Her old hands found a hatch beneath the
0:43rug built by Ben in secret, something
0:46her son never knew existed.
0:49What lay below was worth more by spring
0:51than all Kevin took and in January in a
0:55blizzard, a stranger knocked.
0:58On the second Tuesday of December, Ruth
1:00Ann came back from the pharmacy with a
1:02white paper bag of blood pressure pills
1:04and found that her key would not go into
1:06the door.
1:08She tried it twice. Then she put on her
1:10glasses, the ones on a cord around her
1:12neck, and looked.
1:14The lock was new.
1:16The brass was bright and the old dull
1:19knob lay on the gravel by the step next
1:21to a torn plastic package with a price
1:24sticker on it.
1:25$19.99.
1:28Her son had bought the cheap one.
1:31The room behind the garage had one
1:33window, a cot, a space heater, and Ben's
1:36reading chair, the green one with the
1:38worn left arm.
1:40Kevin had carried it over himself in
1:42September.
1:43"So you'll feel at home, Mom." He had
1:45said. "It's a gift, really. No stairs,
1:48no yard, no taxes."
1:51Now he came out of the side door of the
1:53house with a cardboard box in his arms.
1:56He was 51, heavy in the shoulders like
1:58his father,
2:00and he looked at the box, not at her.
2:02"I packed your things," he said.
2:05"Clothes, your pills, your papers."
2:08Her dark red winter coat was folded on
2:10top.
2:11"Kevin, the key doesn't work." "I know,
2:14Mom."
2:15"Then what is this?"
2:17He set the box on the hood of the
2:19Subaru. "It's not working. You being
2:22here." "You're up at night, you leave
2:24the heater on, you talk to Dad out
2:26loud." "We need the room for Christmas."
2:30"I paid you for this room," she said.
2:32"Out of my own check, every month." "You
2:35paid for groceries." He rubbed the back
2:38of his neck. "There's a place downtown.
2:41They take seniors." "They've got a bed
2:43tonight if you get there before 6:00."
2:45"A shelter? It's clean?" She looked
2:48through the window at the green chair.
2:50"My chair is in there." "Ben's chair."
2:53"I'll hold on to it for now." "And the
2:55bank card stays with me. That's what the
2:57power of attorney is for. I'll put money
3:00on it when you're settled." "And the
3:01house money?" "That's handled. That's
3:04for your care." He said the last word
3:07the way people say a word they have
3:08practiced in a car. Then he went back
3:11inside and closed the door quietly, the
3:14way you close a door on a sleeping
3:16child. And she heard the bolt slide.
3:19Ruth Ann stood on the gravel a long time
3:22under a sky the color of an old pan.
3:25Then she put the box in the back seat of
3:27the Subaru.
3:29The car had been Ben's, a green wagon
3:31with 200,000 mi on it.
3:34In the back, under a blue tarp, was a
3:37sleeping bag.
3:38Ben had always kept one in the car. "You
3:41slide off the road in February, Ruthie,
3:43you'll thank me," he used to say. And
3:46she had laughed at him for 30 years.
3:49She opened her purse. $40, 220s folded
3:53together.
3:54A library card. Her pills, 28 days of
3:58them.
3:59She drove to the big grocery store on
4:01the corner and parked at the far end of
4:03the lot, and turned off the engine to
4:05save gas.
4:06She had been a school librarian for 31
4:09years, and a librarian makes lists.
4:12On the back of the pharmacy receipt, she
4:14wrote, "Gas, half a tank. Money, 40.
4:19Pills, 28 days.
4:21Bed, one sleeping bag."
4:24Under that, she wrote, "Where?"
4:27She did not want the shelter, and she
4:29did not want to call her old neighbors
4:31and tell them her son had changed a lock
4:33on her. She thought of Ben, and, as
4:36always when she thought of Ben, she
4:38thought of the cabin.
4:40It sat off Highway 21, northeast of
4:42Boise, past Idaho City, where an old
4:45forest road climbs along a creek toward
4:48a saddle in the ridge.
4:50It had been built in the 1930s for a
4:52fire guard, and later rented to families
4:55on weekends,
4:56and for 40 years, she and Ben had gone
4:59up every spring and every fall.
5:02Then, the rental stopped, and a sign
5:04went up on the gate saying the cabin was
5:06closed and no longer maintained.
5:09Ben kept going anyway.
5:11"Somebody ought to keep the roof on," he
5:13said.
5:15She had not been up since the funeral, 3
5:17years ago.
5:19"Well, Ben," she said in the dark car,
5:22"you always said you never know."
5:26If stories like this one speak to you,
5:28give this video a like and subscribe to
5:30the channel with the bell turned on, so
5:32you don't miss the next one.
5:34And now, let's continue.
5:36The road up took most of the next gray
5:39day. She slept in the car in the grocery
5:41lot, and in the morning, she spent $1.20
5:44on gas and most of the other on oatmeal,
5:47peanut butter, kitchen matches,
5:49batteries for the flashlight, and a
5:51pound of coffee.
5:53The highway climbed out of the valley,
5:55and the snow came down to meet her.
5:58At the forest road, there was a metal
5:59gate chained with that sign on it.
6:02She also knew that Ben had always gone
6:05around it on the old skid trail to the
6:07left through the young firs.
6:09The Subaru made it a mile and a half
6:12past the gate before the snow got too
6:14deep. She parked it nose out the way Ben
6:17did so she could leave again if she had
6:19to.
6:20It was a little over a mile more uphill
6:22along the creek.
6:24Her knees were not good on stairs let
6:26alone in snow up to the shins.
6:29But she had Ben's plastic wood sled in
6:31the back and she tied the box the
6:33sleeping bag and the groceries on to it.
6:36Put on her red coat and her wool hat and
6:39started walking.
6:4050 steps then rest.
6:43She counted out loud. 49 50. There. Now
6:48rest old woman.
6:50The creek ran black and quick under the
6:52ice on her right.
6:54She came around the last bend at dusk
6:57and there it was. A small log house with
7:00a green metal roof a stone chimney at
7:02one end a porch with a little roof of
7:05its own and a long wood pile under it.
7:08The snow came past the bottom logs waist
7:11high in the drifts. Nothing was broken.
7:14The door was closed. Behind it the pines
7:17went up to the white ridge. Hello she
7:20said. It's just me this time.
7:23The door was held with a twist of wire
7:25through the hasp the way Ben always left
7:27it.
7:28Inside it smelled of mice and old smoke.
7:32Everything was where it had always been.
7:34The iron stove against the stone wall
7:37the table two bunks the enamel cups.
7:40In the tin trunk in the corner were
7:42three wool blankets folded with cedar
7:45blocks between them.
7:47Ben had taught her to light that stove
7:49in 1969
7:51and she had lit it a thousand times
7:53since. She tore the flap off the
7:55cardboard box split kindling from a
7:57porch stick with the hatchet behind the
7:59door and the second match caught.
8:02She knelt and fed it one stick at a
8:04time. Don't rush it she said. "Ben, I
8:08know." [clears throat]
8:09She ate oatmeal from an enamel cup, then
8:12lay down on the bunk by the stove in her
8:14clothes and her hat, the sleeping bag
8:17under the three blankets.
8:19She did not sleep.
8:21The fire burned down.
8:23Near 2:00 in the morning, she put her
8:25bare hand out and laid it flat on the
8:27stone wall beside the bunk.
8:30The fire had been out an hour, but the
8:32stone was still warm, the way a cat is
8:34warm where it has slept.
8:36She had slept beside that wall a hundred
8:39nights, and she remembered it cold by
8:41midnight.
8:43Then, she felt the other thing.
8:46Cold air was moving along the floor,
8:49steady as breath, from the corner where
8:51the chimney met the boards.
8:53And there was a smell in it.
8:55Cedar, clean and sharp. And under the
8:58cedar, something like lamp oil. There
9:01was no cedar in that corner, and there
9:03had never been a lamp.
9:05Ruth Ann sat up, found her glasses and
9:08the flashlight, and got down on the cold
9:10boards slowly, one knee and then the
9:13other.
9:14She knocked on the floor with her
9:15knuckles, the way she used to knock on
9:17the back of a bookcase to find a stud.
9:20By the bunk, the floor sounded like
9:22floor.
9:23By the chimney, it sounded hollow.
9:26A braided rag rug lay there, the one she
9:29had made from Ben's old flannel shirts,
9:31and she pulled it back.
9:33Four boards were cut short and fitted
9:35into a square, tight as a drawer front,
9:38and in the middle, an iron ring lay flat
9:41in a groove.
9:42The hinges were black and new.
9:45She had walked across that rug for 40
9:47years.
9:49"Ben Gentry," she said.
9:51"What did you do?"
9:54She waited for daylight.
9:56In the gray morning, the square looked
9:58smaller and plainer than it had at
10:00night.
10:01She hooked two fingers through the ring
10:03and pulled, and the hatch came up more
10:05easily than she expected, and leaned
10:07back against the wall. A wooden ladder
10:10went down into the dark, and on the top
10:12shelf, right where a hand would reach,
10:15stood a quart canning jar with a folded
10:17letter inside and her own name written
10:20on the paper in Ben's square capitals.
10:23Ruthie.
10:24She knew that handwriting the way she
10:26knew her own.
10:28She sat on the edge of the hatch with
10:30her feet on the second rung and held the
10:32jar in both hands.
10:34Below her, the flashlight showed shelves
10:37along earth walls, wood stacked to the
10:39ceiling, white plastic buckets with
10:42lids, and the corner of something gray
10:44and metal.
10:46Cold, clean air came up past her face.
10:49It smelled of cedar and earth and
10:52kerosene.
10:53She opened the jar.
10:55The letter was three sheets of yellow
10:57legal paper folded in thirds, dated the
11:00October before he died.
11:02She read it right there with the
11:04flashlight balanced on her knee.
11:06Ruthie, it began. If you're reading
11:09this, you came up here alone.
11:12I hope it's because you wanted to.
11:14You always said you'd like to winter up
11:16here once before we got too old, and I
11:19always said, "Next year."
11:21I'm sorry about all those next years.
11:24If you came because you had to, then I'm
11:27sorry-er.
11:28And I'm glad I did this.
11:30The doctor told me in August that it's
11:32my heart, and it's not going to get
11:34better.
11:35I didn't tell you because you would have
11:37made me stop going fishing.
11:39I wasn't fishing.
11:41I was down here.
11:42She laughed out loud at that, and the
11:44laugh turned into something else, and
11:47she held the back of her mitten against
11:48her mouth until it passed.
11:51Then, she kept reading. This hole isn't
11:53mine. Old [clears throat] Hollis Weir
11:55dug it in 1934 when he built the cabin.
11:58It runs back under the hill, and the
12:00chimney stone goes right down through
12:02it, so it never freezes, even in
12:04January.
12:06I found it in '86 when I was fixing the
12:08floor.
12:09The ladder was rotten, and half the wall
12:11had come in.
12:12I shored it up and put in the new hatch,
12:14so nobody poking around would find it.
12:17Weir's logbook is in the tin box on the
12:19left. You'll like it. He wrote
12:21everything down, like you.
12:24There's enough down here for one winter
12:26for one person who's careful.
12:28You're careful.
12:29About three cords of dry wood, split
12:32small so you can lift it.
12:33Flour, oats, rice, beans, sugar,
12:37powdered milk in buckets with the oxygen
12:40packets, so they'll keep.
12:41Lamp oil and two lamps. Matches in the
12:44jars.
12:45Wool socks, because you never have
12:47enough.
12:48A first aid kit.
12:50The list is in the notebook.
12:52Bank the stove at night the way I showed
12:54you. Ash over the coals and the damper
12:57almost shut.
12:58Don't carry more than half a bucket from
13:00the creek. Don't go down to the creek
13:02after dark.
13:04One more thing. The gray box on the
13:06bottom shelf is locked with a
13:08combination. Don't break it. You know
13:11the number. You'll remember it after
13:12you've stayed a while, and I want you to
13:14stay a while before you open it. If you
13:17never come up here alone, then good. And
13:20someday Kevin can throw all this out.
13:22I love you, Ruthie. Keep the roof on.
13:25Ben.
13:26She read it twice.
13:28Then she folded it on the old folds and
13:31put it inside her coat against her
13:33sweater.
13:34Three cords, Ben? She said into the
13:36hole. You carried three cords of wood
13:39down a ladder with that heart?
13:42There was no answer.
13:43Somewhere below, a drop of water fell
13:46onto stone.
13:48She went down backwards, holding the
13:50rails. Nine rungs. At the bottom, the
13:53floor was packed earth laid with flat
13:55stones, and the room ran back into the
13:57hill longer than the cabin was wide. It
14:01was cool, but not freezing. On the
14:03right, the great stone footing of the
14:05chimney came down through the ceiling
14:07and stood in the floor like a tree
14:09trunk. And when she put her palm on it,
14:12it was faintly warm.
14:14Ben's wood was stacked along the left
14:16wall past the reach of her flashlight.
14:18The buckets stood on a low platform of
14:20planks, each with masking tape on the
14:22lid and a word in his capitals. Flour,
14:26oats, rice, beans, sugar, milk.
14:31Two hurricane lamps hung from a beam
14:34over four red cans of lamp oil.
14:36On a shelf at eye level, there were jars
14:38of kitchen matches, a stack of wool
14:40socks with the store bands still on
14:42them, and a tackle box with a red cross
14:45painted on the lid.
14:47Next to it was a school composition
14:49notebook with a marbled cover.
14:51On the cover, he had written Ruthie's
14:53winter.
14:55And on the bottom shelf, pushed back
14:56against the stone, was the gray box.
15:00It was steel, the size of a bread box,
15:02the kind people keep papers in, and a
15:05brass padlock with three little wheels
15:07of numbers hung through the hasp. She
15:09touched it with one finger and left it.
15:12She opened the notebook instead.
15:15On the first page, he had drawn the
15:17cellar from above with every shelf and
15:19bucket marked.
15:21On the second, he had worked out how
15:23long each bucket would last at one cup a
15:25day, and at the bottom, he had added it
15:28up.
15:28140 days if careful.
15:32On the third page, he had written wood.
15:35Two armfuls a day in the cold, one when
15:37it's mild. Burn the porch pile first,
15:41the cellar wood is drier. Keep it for
15:43when it's worst.
15:45On the fourth page, there was only one
15:47line.
15:48Ruthie, you don't have to do any of this
15:50alone if you don't want to.
15:53But I know you.
15:54She sat down on an upturned bucket at
15:56the bottom of the ladder with the
15:58notebook on her knees.
16:00140 days, she said.
16:03That's the middle of April.
16:05That's the snow off the road.
16:07She counted on her fingers like a
16:08schoolgirl.
16:10December, January, February, March. You
16:14knew exactly what you were doing, didn't
16:16you?
16:18She sat a while longer in the cool dark
16:20under her own cabin with her husband's
16:22handwriting in her lap.
16:25When she climbed back up nine rungs, the
16:27stove had gone out and the room was cold
16:30again.
16:31And she did not mind at all.
16:34That morning she took her coffee out on
16:35the porch and opened the old coffee can
16:38nailed to the post where hikers used to
16:40leave notes.
16:41Most were names and dates and the
16:43weather curled with damp.
16:46But at the bottom there were five small
16:48cards in the same blocky hand, each with
16:51a January date and the same two
16:53initials,
16:54C. M.
16:57The newest said only,
16:58"Still here because of him."
17:01"Still coming."
17:02There was nothing on the back.
17:04She did not know anybody with those
17:06initials.
17:07"Because of who?" she said to the empty
17:10road.
17:11She put the cards back, all but the
17:13newest one, which went into her pocket
17:16next to Ben's letter.
17:18Hollis Weir's logbook was in the tin box
17:20on the left, wrapped in oilcloth, a
17:23ledger with a cloth spine. The first
17:25entry was in pencil, dated June of 1934.
17:30That afternoon she sat at the table by
17:32the window and read it the way she used
17:34to read old county records in the
17:36library basement, one line at a time.
17:40Weir had been a fire guard, sent up to
17:42watch the ridge through the dry months
17:44and to stay on through the winter when
17:46the snow closed the road,
17:48to keep the telephone line clear and to
17:50measure the snow.
17:52He wrote down the temperature morning
17:53and evening, how many sticks of wood he
17:56burned, what he ate, when the elk came
17:59down.
18:00On the ninth page in August he wrote,
18:03"Began digging root cellar behind
18:05chimney footing to keep potatoes and to
18:07have a place that will not freeze."
18:10In October he wrote, "Cellar done.
18:13Chimney stone carries heat down. 41°
18:16inside, nine above zero out.
18:19A man could live through anything with a
18:21cellar like this.
18:23She read that line out loud twice. The
18:26second time, slower.
18:28A man could, she said. We'll see about a
18:32woman.
18:33Then she took a pencil from the tin cup
18:35on the shelf, opened Ben's notebook to a
18:37clean page at the back, and wrote the
18:39date.
18:41Under it, she wrote, Morning, 12 above.
18:44Wood, porch pile, two armloads.
18:48Oats, one cup.
18:50Pills, 27 left. Water, half a bucket.
18:54She looked at it a while, and it looked
18:56right.
18:57It looked like the first page of
18:59something.
19:01The rest of that first day, she spent
19:03learning the place again with old hands.
19:05She walked the porch and counted the
19:07wood pile by rows.
19:0911 rows, each about as long as her arm
19:12was wide, and she wrote that down, too.
19:15She found the path down to the creek
19:17under the snow by the line of willows
19:19Ben had always followed, and she went
19:21down once in full daylight with the
19:23dented pot instead of a bucket, because
19:26the pot was lighter, and she wanted to
19:28see how her knees liked the slope.
19:30They did not like it.
19:32She came back up sideways, one step at a
19:35time, holding the pot against her
19:37stomach, and she spilled a third of it.
19:39Half a bucket, she said, setting it on
19:42the stove.
19:43You were right, Ben.
19:45Don't tell anybody.
19:46At dusk, she lit one of the hurricane
19:49lamps for the first time.
19:51She trimmed the wick with the kitchen
19:52scissors, the way her mother had trimmed
19:54them on the farm outside Twin Falls when
19:57Ruth Ann was a girl, before the power
19:59came out that far.
20:01The flame stood up straight and yellow
20:04and steady.
20:05The room changed. It stopped being a
20:08dark box with a stove in it, and became
20:11a room again, with a table and a window,
20:14and a woman at the table.
20:17She sat with the lamp beside her and
20:19Weir's logbook open, and she read until
20:22her eyes were tired.
20:24Before she went to bed, she did what Ben
20:26had written.
20:27She raked the coals into a heap at the
20:29back of the firebox, laid two of the dry
20:32cellar sticks across them, covered the
20:34whole thing with a blanket of ash from
20:36the ash pan, and turned the damper until
20:39it was nearly shut.
20:41Then she stood with her hand on the
20:42stove door. "If you're wrong about
20:45this," she said, "I'll wake up frozen
20:48and I'll never forgive you."
20:50She lay down under the three blankets.
20:53In the morning, when she opened the
20:55stove door and stirred the gray ash,
20:57there were red coals underneath, alive,
21:01waiting. And she laughed out loud in the
21:03cold room like a girl.
21:06After that, the days took a shape, and
21:09the shape was Wears and Ben's together.
21:13She woke when the window went gray.
21:16She opened the stove, stirred the ash
21:18off the coals, and fed them kindling
21:20until the fire stood up again.
21:23She wrote the morning temperature from
21:24the thermometer on the porch post in the
21:26back of Ben's notebook under the date.
21:29Then, coffee, half a cup, because a
21:32pound of coffee is not very much.
21:34Then, oatmeal with a spoon of sugar and
21:37a spoon of powdered milk.
21:39Then, water.
21:41Water was the hardest thing, and she
21:43treated it the way she had treated every
21:45hard thing in her life, by breaking it
21:48into small pieces.
21:50She did not carry a full bucket. She
21:52carried the dented pot half full, and
21:55she made three trips in the late morning
21:57when the sun was on the path, never
21:59after 2:00 in the afternoon.
22:01She stamped the path down a little more
22:04each trip so it would be firm.
22:06On the steep part by the willows, she
22:08cut steps into the snowbank with the
22:10edge of the coal shovel, nine of them,
22:13the same number as the rungs of Ben's
22:15ladder, and she liked that. "Nine down,
22:18nine up," she said each time. "Same as
22:22the cellar, same as anything."
22:24In between, she melted snow on back of
22:26the stove for washing, s- so the creek
22:29water was only for drinking and cooking.
22:31She found that if she set a big pot of
22:33snow on the stove in the morning, it
22:36would give her a few inches of water by
22:37noon. And if she kept adding snow, by
22:40evening, she had enough to wash her face
22:43and her underthings and her one other
22:45sweater.
22:46She dried them on a line of twine across
22:48the corner by the stovepipe. It was a
22:50farm girl's trick. Her mother had done
22:52it in the winter of '49 when the pipes
22:55froze in the house outside Twin Falls,
22:58and Ruth Ann was a child of one and did
23:00not remember it. Except that she did,
23:03somehow, the smell of wet wool by a
23:05stove.
23:07Weir helped her, too.
23:09She read a few pages of his logbook
23:11every evening by the lamp, and she began
23:13to understand what he had built and why.
23:17The cabin was not set where it was by
23:19accident. It sat on a shelf of the slope
23:22with the hill at its back to the north,
23:24so the worst wind went over the roof.
23:27The porch faced southeast to catch the
23:29morning sun.
23:30>> [clears throat]
23:30>> The chimney was on the uphill end, so
23:33the warm stone backed onto the cellar
23:35dug into the hill, and the cellar held
23:37the warmth like a jug.
23:40In November of 1934, Weir wrote, "Stove
23:43alone will not hold this place at night
23:46in deep cold. The stone will.
23:49Build up the fire at dusk, let the wall
23:51drink it, and it will give it back till
23:54morning."
23:55Ruth Ann put her hand on the stone wall
23:57by the bunk and nodded. "I know," she
24:00said. "I felt you do it."
24:03Ben had written in the margins. She had
24:06not known that, either.
24:08Next to Weir's entries, here and there,
24:10in the same square capitals as the
24:12letter, there were small notes in ink.
24:15Next to the cellar entry,
24:17"Found it. June '86. Ladder gone."
24:21Next to a page about the stovepipe,
24:24"Replaced pipe '91. Same size. Do not
24:27change size."
24:29Next to an entry about the spring.
24:31The spring by the big rock still runs in
24:33March when the creek is high and dirty.
24:37She read each of them out loud as if he
24:39had just said it from across the table.
24:41"Do not change size." She said.
24:44"Yes, sir."
24:46She tried the combination on the gray
24:48box on the third evening.
24:50She went down the ladder with the lamp,
24:52set it on the bucket marked rice, and
24:55sat on the bucket marked oats, and took
24:57the little brass padlock in her fingers.
25:00Three wheels, zero to nine.
25:03Ben's birthday, the 4th of March. 3 0 4.
25:09Nothing.
25:10Her own birthday. 1 1 9.
25:13Nothing. Their wedding, the 20th of
25:16June, 1970.
25:186 2 0.
25:21Nothing.
25:22Kevin's birthday in October.
25:25She did not want to try it, and she
25:27tried it, and it did not open, and she
25:29was glad.
25:31"All right." She told the box.
25:33"He said I'd remember.
25:35I'll wait till I do."
25:37She kept the count every day.
25:39It was the first thing she wrote in the
25:40morning and the last thing she checked
25:42at night. And it was a comfort, the way
25:45a library catalog is a comfort, because
25:47it told her exactly where everything
25:49was.
25:51Porch pile, eight rows left of 11.
25:54Cellar wood, untouched. Oats, about
25:57two-thirds of a bucket. Flour, full.
26:00Pills.
26:02She counted the pills each night into
26:04her palm and back into the bottle.
26:0628 days had seemed like a lot in the
26:08grocery lot. Up here, it was a calendar.
26:12If she took one each morning, the last
26:14one would be on the 7th of January.
26:17After that, she had no plan, and she did
26:19not like having no plan.
26:22So, she made one at the table on a clean
26:25page. When the pills got down to five,
26:27she would pick a clear day and walk down
26:29to the Subaru with the sled to sit on.
26:32Start the engine and drive to the little
26:34clinic in Idaho City and tell them the
26:36truth.
26:38She had $3 and some coins.
26:40She would ask them to call her doctor in
26:42Boise.
26:44She wrote it all down step by step with
26:46the date she would leave.
26:48Then she underlined clear day twice.
26:52"There." She said. "Now it's a plan."
26:56Christmas came on a Thursday and it
26:58snowed softly all day. Big flakes that
27:02fell straight down without any wind.
27:04She had decided she would not feel sorry
27:06for herself on Christmas and she very
27:09nearly managed it.
27:11In the morning she made skillet bread
27:13with flour and powdered milk and a pinch
27:15of sugar and baking soda from Ben's
27:17shelf the way her mother made it. And
27:19she spread it with peanut butter and ate
27:21it hot at the table by the window.
27:24She lit both lamps which was an
27:26extravagance. Then she opened Weir's
27:29logbook to the 25th of December 1934
27:32because she had been saving it.
27:35"Christmas." Weir had written.
27:37"11 above at dawn. Snowed all night. Ate
27:41the last of the ham.
27:42Read the Gospel of Luke out loud to the
27:44stove which did not object.
27:47Wrote letter to mother.
27:49No mail till April.
27:50Elk on the flat below the creek. Seven
27:53of them. A good day."
27:55She laughed at the stove that did not
27:57object. Then she sang because there was
28:00nobody to hear.
28:02She sang Silent Night and O Come All Ye
28:06Faithful and the first two verses of
28:08Away in a Manger which were the only
28:10ones she knew in a thin old voice that
28:13cracked on the high notes.
28:15When she stopped the cabin was very
28:17quiet and the snow was still falling
28:20past the window. And she thought about
28:22Kevin for the first time in several
28:24days.
28:25She thought about him as a boy of six in
28:28footed pajamas standing at the top of
28:30the stairs on Hillcrest and asking if
28:33Santa had come yet. She thought about
28:35the bright brass lock and the 1999
28:38sticker.
28:39"I don't know what happened to you." she
28:41said. "I don't know if it was us."
28:44Then she went to the window.
28:46On the flat below the creek, there were
28:48elk, dark shapes in the falling snow.
28:51Five of them, moving slowly.
28:54She counted them twice.
28:56Then she sat down and wrote in the
28:58notebook,
28:59Christmas,
29:00five elk,
29:02a good day.
29:03She looked at it and decided it was
29:06true.
29:07The mistake happened on the 2nd of
29:09January and it was hers and she knew it
29:12the moment she made it.
29:14It had been bitter for 3 days, 12 below
29:17and then 15, and she had been putting
29:19off the creek because the path was icy.
29:22By the afternoon of the 2nd, the water
29:24pot was dry and the snow pot was not
29:27keeping up and she was thirsty in the
29:29way that makes old people dizzy.
29:32The sun had already gone behind the
29:33ridge.
29:35Ben's line was right there in the
29:36letter. Don't go down to the creek after
29:39dark.
29:41It was not dark yet. It was blue and
29:44getting bluer. "10 minutes." she said.
29:47"It's 10 minutes, Ben."
29:49She went down the nine steps.
29:51At the bottom, the place where she
29:53always knelt to dip the pot had changed.
29:56The cold had pushed new ice out from the
29:59bank, gray and smooth, and she could not
30:02see in the blue light where the old edge
30:04was.
30:05She put her left knee down where she
30:07always put it and the ice under her boot
30:10broke with a sound like a plate and her
30:12left foot went into the creek to the
30:14ankle and then to the calf.
30:16[clears throat]
30:17The cold was so hard that for a moment
30:20it did not feel like cold at all. It
30:22felt like being struck.
30:25The pot went out of her hand and turned
30:27once on the black water and went under
30:29the ice downstream.
30:31She grabbed a willow root with both
30:33hands and pulled her foot out. Her boot
30:36came out full.
30:38She did not let herself sit down. She
30:40knew that much. Her mother had told her
30:42about a hired man who sat down in the
30:44snow to rest with a wet foot. She went
30:47up the nine steps on her hands and one
30:49good foot, and she said each number out
30:52loud through her teeth.
30:54At the porch, she could not feel her
30:56toes.
30:57Inside, she did not put the foot near
30:59the stove because her mother had told
31:01her that, too.
31:03She got the boot off with the bootjack
31:05and the wool sock off with her fingers,
31:07and the foot was white and waxy at the
31:10toes. And she wrapped it in her hat and
31:12both her hands and sat on the bunk and
31:15held it. And she rocked, and she waited.
31:19It came back in about 20 minutes. It
31:21came back like fire, and she cried then.
31:25Not for anything sad, only because it
31:28hurt.
31:29The price came the next day.
31:31She had a cough and a fever, and she had
31:34burned the stove hard all night to dry
31:36the boot and herself. And when she
31:38looked at the porch pile in the morning,
31:40she saw that she had burned two days of
31:43wood in one.
31:44She stayed in the bunk most of the 3rd
31:46of January, getting up only to feed the
31:49fire and to eat a little. She had lost
31:51the water pot, so she melted snow in the
31:54frying pan.
31:55And there was the other count. That
31:58morning, when she tipped the pills into
31:59her palm, there were four. She had meant
32:02to be on the road to the clinic on a
32:04clear day with five.
32:06She looked out the window.
32:08The sky over the ridge was no color at
32:10all, and the air was dead still, and the
32:13chickadees had stopped coming to the
32:15porch rail.
32:16She had lived in Idaho 78 years. She
32:20knew what a sky like that meant.
32:23The wind started that night.
32:25By the morning of the 4th of January, it
32:27was blowing so hard that the snow went
32:30past the window sideways and did not
32:32seem to come down at all, only past
32:35endlessly, white on white.
32:38She could not see the woodshed from the
32:40door. She could not see the porch post
32:42with the thermometer three steps away.
32:45She tied the sled rope to the inside
32:46door handle and around her waist when
32:48she went out for wood, and she brought
32:50in as much as she could carry, and she
32:53did it four times until she was shaking.
32:56Then she shut the door and pushed the
32:58rug against the bottom of it, and she
33:00sat down at the table and opened the
33:02notebook, and she did the arithmetic.
33:05Porch pile, three rows left. Cellar
33:08wood, untouched. Pills, three.
33:12"Keep it for when it's worst," she said.
33:15She read Ben's line again on the third
33:17page.
33:18"Well, Ben, I think this is worst."
33:22She took the lamp and went down the nine
33:24rungs and brought up the first armload
33:26of the cellar wood, small and dry and
33:29light, and she fed it to the stove, and
33:32it burned the way good wood burns, with
33:34a high, steady roar, and the room
33:37warmed.
33:38The storm did not stop on the fourth or
33:41the fifth. The wind found every gap
33:44between the logs that the chinking had
33:45let go and whistled through them in
33:48thin, high notes. The stovepipe moaned.
33:51Twice in the night she woke with a
33:53start, sure that the roof was lifting,
33:56and lay listening.
33:58And it did not lift.
34:00Weir had built it low and heavy with the
34:02hill at its back, and the green metal
34:04Ben had put on over the old shakes was
34:07screwed down every 8 in. inches.
34:10She said so out loud in the dark, to the
34:12roof. "Every 8 in. inches. I watched him
34:15do it."
34:17On the morning of the sixth, she took
34:19her second-to-last pill and wrote it
34:21down.
34:22If you've come this far with Ruth Ann,
34:24give it a like and subscribe, because
34:26what comes next is the part of the story
34:29that all of this was for.
34:31It was a little after dark on the 6th of
34:33January, and she was sitting at the
34:35table with the lamp and Weir's logbook
34:38when somebody knocked on the door.
34:40She did not move.
34:42It was not the wind.
34:43The wind had been banging things against
34:45the cabin for 3 days, branches and
34:48chunks of ice, and once the coffee can
34:50from the porch post, and she knew every
34:53one of those sounds by now. This was
34:55three knocks, then a pause, then three
34:58more, slower.
35:00A hand.
35:02She stood up.
35:03She took the iron poker from its hook by
35:05the stove and held it down along her leg
35:08in her right hand, and with her left
35:10hand she picked up the lamp.
35:12"Who is it?" she called.
35:14Her voice came out high and thin. The
35:17wind took most of it.
35:19The knock came again.
35:21Then a man's voice, rough with cold,
35:24close to the door.
35:26"Ma'am,
35:27I'm sorry. I saw your light. I'm in some
35:30trouble out here."
35:31She stood with the poker and the lamp
35:33and thought about it, and it was the
35:35longest she had ever thought about
35:37anything in her life, and it was,
35:39perhaps, 4 seconds.
35:42Nobody came to this cabin.
35:44Nobody knew she was here.
35:46Then she thought, nobody would be out in
35:49this unless he had to be.
35:51And then she thought of Ben, and of what
35:54Ben would do,
35:55and that was the end of the thinking.
35:58She set the lamp on the table, kept the
36:00poker, and pulled the door open against
36:02the wind.
36:03He was a tall man, bent forward, white
36:06from head to foot, a big backpack, snow
36:10caked on it, two ski poles in his fists,
36:13and skis still on his feet, and a face
36:16so crusted with ice that she could not
36:18tell how old he was.
36:20He came in on a gust of snow, and she
36:23shoved the door shut behind him with her
36:25shoulder. "Get those off," she said.
36:27"The skis. Sit there."
36:30He sat on the bench by the door and bent
36:32to the bindings and could not do it. His
36:35fingers would not work.
36:37She put the poker down, knelt, and
36:39opened the bindings herself, one and
36:42then the other, the way she had done for
36:44Ben a hundred times. "There," she said.
36:48"Now the gloves."
36:50His hands came out of the gloves white
36:52at the fingertips, the same waxy white
36:55as her toes on the 2nd of January.
36:57"Don't put them near the stove," she
36:59said, and she heard her mother saying
37:01it.
37:02She took the frying pan of snow water
37:04off the back of the stove where it had
37:06been warming, and tested it with her
37:08wrist like a baby's bottle, and set it
37:10on the bench beside him. "In there,
37:13both." "It'll hurt." "That's how you
37:15know."
37:17He put his hands in the water and made a
37:19sound through his teeth, and then held
37:21still.
37:23She took his hat and his jacket and hung
37:25them on the line by the stovepipe, and
37:27he sat there dripping and steaming and
37:30looked at her for the first time.
37:33"You're a woman," he said.
37:35"I've been told." "I mean, I'm sorry. I
37:38didn't expect anybody. Nobody's up here
37:41in winter, not for years."
37:44He was younger than she had thought when
37:45the ice came off his face, 50 or so,
37:48with a gray beard and a narrow face and
37:51eyes that looked hard at the room.
37:54They went to the stove, the stone wall,
37:56the table, the lamp, Weir's logbook, and
38:00came back to her.
38:01"Are you all right, ma'am? Are you up
38:03here alone?"
38:05"I'm fine," she said. "Keep your hands
38:07in the water."
38:08"Who are you?"
38:10"Cole," he said. "Cole Mercer. I'm a
38:13teacher down in Boise. I ski up here
38:15every January. I was trying to beat this
38:18storm in and get out again before it
38:19hit. The forecast was wrong by about 6
38:22hours. I lost the trail below the
38:25saddle, and I've been out in it for most
38:26of the afternoon.
38:28Then I saw your light." He swallowed.
38:31"Nobody's ever had a light up here in
38:33January."
38:34Ruth Ann stood very still.
38:37Then she reached into the pocket of her
38:39red coat on the hook and took out the
38:41small card she had put there in December
38:44and held it up so he could see the
38:45blocky handwriting.
38:47CM
38:49Still here because of him.
38:51Still coming.
38:53He looked at the card and then at her
38:55and something in his face opened.
38:58You're his wife, he said. You're Mrs.
39:01Gentry.
39:03Ruth Ann.
39:04Ruth Ann.
39:06He took one hand out of the water and
39:08looked at it and put it back. Your
39:10husband dug me out of a slide on the
39:12slope below the saddle in January of
39:141990.
39:15I was 14.
39:17My dad and I were skiing up to look at
39:19the cabin and the snow went and it took
39:21me.
39:22My dad couldn't find me.
39:24Mr. Gentry was up here alone that
39:26weekend checking the roof.
39:28He heard my dad yelling.
39:29He came down with a shovel and probed
39:31with a ski pole and found my boot and he
39:34dug me out with his hands at the end and
39:37he carried me up here and put me in that
39:39bunk right there.
39:40He sat by me all night.
39:43He looked at the bunk. I've come up
39:45every January since on the date.
39:48I leave a note in the can.
39:50I used to leave them for him.
39:52After I saw the obituary, I kept doing
39:54it anyway.
39:55I didn't know what else to do.
39:57She did not answer for a moment. Then
39:59she went to the shelf and took down
40:01Weir's logbook and turned to the back
40:04where the pages were filled with other
40:06hands, Ben's among them.
40:08And she ran her finger down the dates in
40:10the lamplight until she found January of
40:131990.
40:15It was there in ink in square capitals
40:19three short lines.
40:21Up alone for the roof.
40:23Dug the Mercer boy out of the slide
40:25below the saddle.
40:2614
40:28alive.
40:29She read it out loud to him.
40:32Cole put his head down with both his
40:33hands still in the frying pan of water
40:36and for a while he did not say anything
40:39at all.
40:40He came home that Monday, Ruth Ann said.
40:43And I asked him how the roof was and he
40:45said the roof was fine and some boy got
40:48caught in a slide and he helped dig him
40:50out. That's all he said.
40:52Some boy.
40:54She shook her head.
40:5553 years married, and that's all he
40:59said.
41:00That sounds like him, Cole said without
41:03lifting his head. I only met him the
41:05once, really.
41:06But that sounds like him.
41:08She fed him oatmeal and the last of the
41:10skillet bread with peanut butter, and he
41:13ate like a boy of 14.
41:15His fingers came back pink and painful,
41:18and she wrapped them in a pair of Ben's
41:20wool socks from the cellar shelf. And he
41:23sat at the table in his long underwear
41:25with his hands in the socks like
41:27mittens, and watched her move around the
41:29cabin.
41:30He did not ask any questions for a long
41:33time.
41:34Then he said, quietly,
41:36"Ruth Ann,
41:37how long have you been up here?"
41:39"Since the 11th of December."
41:42He looked at the stove and the notebook
41:44and the line of drying socks.
41:47"Alone?"
41:48"Mostly with Ben," she said.
41:49[clears throat]
41:50"And Mr. Weir.
41:52Mr. Weir built the place."
41:54She pointed to the logbook. "He wrote
41:56everything down."
41:58"Why are you up here?"
42:00She told him.
42:01She told it plainly at the table in the
42:04lamp, the way she would have read a
42:06catalog card out loud. The house on
42:08Hillcrest, the power of attorney after
42:11her fall two winters ago, the sale in
42:13September, the little room behind the
42:16garage, the bank card, the brass lock,
42:19the 1999 sticker, the $40.
42:24She did not cry. She had done her crying
42:26for the foot.
42:28When she finished, Cole was looking at
42:30her with his jaw tight.
42:32"Your son did that?" "My son did that."
42:36"Does he know where you are?" "He
42:38doesn't know anything. He doesn't know
42:40there's a cellar under this floor.
42:42He never came up here with us after he
42:43was 12. He said it was boring."
42:46Cole was quiet. Then he said, "There's a
42:49cellar under this floor?"
42:51She laughed, the first time in days.
42:55"You'll see it tomorrow," she said, "if
42:57you're good. Go to sleep. Take the top
43:00bunk. And if the fire's low when you
43:02wake up, leave it alone. I bank it my
43:05own way."
43:06The storm blew two more days. Cole was
43:09strong and willing, and he did what she
43:11told him, and she found that she liked
43:14telling him. He wanted to go out and
43:16split wood in the wind, and she said no.
43:19The porch pile was finished, and the
43:21cellar wood was already split, and he
43:23could carry it up the ladder instead,
43:25which was work her knees were glad to
43:27hand over.
43:28On the second morning, the stove began
43:30to smoke back into the room, and he said
43:33he would climb up on the roof and clear
43:34the cap, and she said, "You will do no
43:37such thing in this wind. Get me that ski
43:40pole."
43:41She opened the stove pipe at the damper
43:43joint, ran the ski pole up the pipe from
43:45inside with a rag tied on the end, and
43:48knocked the rime ice off the cap from
43:50below, and the stove drew again.
43:53Cole watched her with his mouth slightly
43:55open. "Where did you learn that?"
43:58"1974.
44:00Ben was on the roof, and he fell off it,
44:02and he hurt his back. After that, I did
44:04it from inside."
44:06When she showed him the cellar, he went
44:08down the nine rungs with the lamp and
44:10stood at the bottom for a long time
44:12without saying anything.
44:14He put his hand on the warm chimney
44:16stone. He looked at the masking tape on
44:18the buckets and the socks and the
44:20notebook and the gray box on the bottom
44:23shelf with its little brass wheels.
44:26"He built you a winter," Cole said
44:28finally. "He built you a whole winter
44:31and put it under the floor." "I know.
44:34What's in the box?" "I don't know yet.
44:37He told me I'd know the number when I'd
44:38stayed a while." She stood at the top of
44:41the ladder with her arms folded. "Don't
44:43touch it." "I won't." On the evening of
44:46the 7th of January, she took her last
44:49pill, and Cole saw her do it and saw her
44:52write it down.
44:54He did not say anything that night.
44:57In the morning, the wind had dropped and
44:59the sky over the ridge was hard and blue
45:02and the snow lay over everything smooth
45:05and deep and the cabin was buried to the
45:07windowsills on the uphill side.
45:10Cole put his skis on at the door. "I'm
45:12going down." he said. "My truck is at
45:15the gate. I'll be back tomorrow or the
45:17day after if the road's bad.
45:19I'll bring your pills. I'll need the
45:21bottle and your doctor's name." "I'll
45:23pay you back." "You don't have to pay me
45:25back." "I'll pay you back." she said,
45:28"or you don't get the bottle."
45:30He looked at her and then he laughed and
45:33she gave him the bottle and the name and
45:35she wrote in the notebook Cole Mercer,
45:38pills owed.
45:40Then she said, "And Cole, you don't tell
45:43anybody I'm here. Not the sheriff, not
45:45your wife, not the newspaper. I'll go
45:48down when I decide to go down, not
45:51before."
45:52"Rose Ann, it's the middle of January. I
45:55can read a calendar."
45:56He stood in the doorway a moment.
45:58"All right." he said. "Your call. But
46:01I'm coming back."
46:03He came back on the 10th, late in the
46:05afternoon, skiing up the creek with the
46:08big pack and a smaller sled behind him
46:10on a rope. In the pack were her pills, a
46:1390-day bottle with her name on the label
46:16and a new water pot and a 10-lb sack of
46:18potatoes and coffee and a bag of oranges
46:21and a newspaper she did not want and
46:23read anyway.
46:25She had felt the lack of the pills for
46:27two days, a dull pressure behind the
46:30eyes.
46:31And she sat down at the table and took
46:33one with water from the new pot and
46:35closed her eyes.
46:37When she opened them, she took the
46:39pencil and turned to the page that said
46:41Cole Mercer, pills owed.
46:45And she wrote underneath it, pot,
46:47potatoes, coffee, oranges.
46:51Then she asked him what it all came to
46:53and he told her and she wrote that down,
46:55too.
46:56"Your doctor's nurse wanted to know
46:58where you were," he said.
47:00"I told her you were safe and staying
47:02with friends in the mountains, which is
47:04true."
47:05He sat down across from her.
47:07"She said your son called the office in
47:09December to ask if your prescription
47:11could be mailed to his house."
47:13Ruth Ann put the pencil down. "Did she
47:15mail it?" "No. She said she didn't have
47:18your permission." "Good girl," Ruth Ann
47:20said. "Then,"
47:22"he knew I'd need them.
47:24He knew the day I'd run out."
47:26She sat a moment.
47:28"He wanted them where I'd have to come
47:29to him for them."
47:31Cole did not say anything to that.
47:34He stayed one night, and in the morning
47:36he split kindling for her and filled the
47:38snow pot, and then he skied down again.
47:42He came up after that every Saturday the
47:44weather allowed, through January and
47:46into February, with the sled.
47:48She wrote down every single thing he
47:50brought.
47:52The number came back to her on a clear,
47:54cold night in the middle of February,
47:57and it came back the way old things come
47:59back, sideways, through the window.
48:03She had gone out on the porch before bed
48:04to look at the sky because the sky up
48:07there on a clear night was something she
48:09had missed in Boise more than she had
48:11missed anything.
48:13The stars were so thick that the dark
48:15between them looked gray.
48:18A meteor went across the north, short
48:20and bright. Then she was standing on the
48:22same porch in August of 1969,
48:2621 years old, in a cotton dress and
48:29Ben's jacket, watching the Perseids with
48:31him.
48:32They had stayed up the whole night. They
48:34had counted 112 shooting stars.
48:38And he had not asked her.
48:40She had been sure he would ask her, and
48:43he had not.
48:44And she had gone to sleep angry.
48:47The next night, when the sky was
48:48ordinary and nothing was falling, he had
48:51asked her on this porch.
48:53Later he told her why.
48:55"I didn't want you to think it was the
48:56stars talking," he said.
48:59"I wanted you to say yes on a plain
49:01night.
49:02The Perseids peaked on the 12th of
49:04August that year.
49:06He had asked her on the 13th.
49:09She went in and took the lamp and went
49:11down the nine rungs faster than she had
49:13gone down them all winter.
49:15She sat on the bucket marked oats and
49:18took the brass padlock in her cold
49:20fingers.
49:21She tried 812 first because she was not
49:25quite sure and it held.
49:27Then she turned the last wheel one more
49:30notch, 813.
49:33The shackle dropped open with a small
49:35soft click, the most ordinary sound in
49:38the world.
49:39A plain night, she said. You old fool.
49:44She lifted the lid.
49:45On top lay an envelope with Ruthie on
49:48it, thicker than the first.
49:50Under that was a bundle of photographs
49:53held with a rubber band gone brittle and
49:55a stack of small spiral notebooks, a
49:58dozen of them, the kind Ben kept in his
50:00shirt pocket for fishing, each with
50:02years written on the cover.
50:05And at the very bottom, by itself, lay a
50:07long white envelope sealed with one word
50:11on the front in his square capitals. It
50:14said,
50:15Kevin.
50:16She did not touch that one.
50:18She took out her own envelope and the
50:20bundle of photographs and climbed back
50:22up the ladder
50:24and she sat at the table with both lamps
50:26lit and her glasses on and she opened
50:28the letter.
50:30Ruthie, he had written. If you've opened
50:32this, then you remembered the 13th and
50:35you've stayed a while and I'm proud of
50:37you. I knew you would. You never forget
50:40a date. You only pretend to so people
50:43feel better.
50:44There are a few things I didn't say out
50:46loud while I could and I'm going to say
50:48them here where nobody but you can read
50:51them.
50:52The first is about Kevin.
50:54He came to me twice for money in '21.
50:57Both times for the business, both times
51:00a lot.
51:01The first time I gave it to him and
51:03didn't tell you, and I'm sorry about
51:05that.
51:06The second time I said no.
51:09He got angry, and he said a thing I
51:11won't write down, and then he said that
51:13it didn't matter anyway, because sooner
51:15or later it would all be his. The house,
51:18the money, all of it.
51:20He said it like a man reading a weather
51:22report.
51:23I've thought about that every day since.
51:26I don't know what's going to happen
51:28after I'm gone.
51:29I hope I'm wrong about him. I hope you
51:31never come up here alone and never open
51:34this box, and someday it all gets thrown
51:37out in a dumpster by some kid from the
51:38forest service.
51:40But if Kevin is the reason you're up
51:42here, then there's an envelope in the
51:44bottom of this box with his name on it.
51:46Give it to him.
51:48Don't read it.
51:49It's not mean.
51:50It's only what a father ought to say to
51:52his son, and I couldn't say to his face.
51:55Give it to him in front of somebody, so
51:57he can't pretend later that he didn't
51:59get it.
52:00The last thing is about you.
52:02You're going to want to make yourself
52:04small, Ruthie.
52:06You did it at your mother's table, and
52:07you did it at the library board, and you
52:09did it with me sometimes, and I let you,
52:12and that was wrong of me.
52:14Don't do it with him.
52:16You wintered up here. You kept the stove
52:18going.
52:19You don't need anybody's permission for
52:21anything ever again.
52:24I love you.
52:25I loved you on a plain night.
52:28Ben.
52:29She read it three times.
52:31Then she put it back in its envelope and
52:33put the envelope in the pocket of her
52:35red coat with the first letter and the
52:37card from Cole.
52:39And she took the rubber band off the
52:40photographs.
52:42It broke in her fingers.
52:44There were perhaps 40 pictures, and
52:46almost all of them had been taken on the
52:48porch outside.
52:50The two of them, young, squinting into
52:52the sun.
52:53And Kevin.
52:55Kevin at seven with a trout held up by
52:57the gill, so proud he was standing on
53:00his toes.
53:01Kevin at 10, asleep on the bottom bunk
53:04with a comic book over his face.
53:06Kevin at 12 on the porch steps with his
53:09arms folded, scowling, too old for
53:12everything.
53:13She laid that one on the table, face up,
53:16and looked at it for a long time. The
53:18spiral notebooks were Ben's, and they
53:21were a record of every weekend they had
53:23ever spent at the cabin.
53:25Every one from 1971
53:28in pencil in his small fishing hand.
53:31Dates, weather, fish, what they ate, who
53:34came.
53:35Kevin caught his first fish, 10 in,
53:38would not let us cook it.
53:40She read them for days, one notebook a
53:43night.
53:44They were better than any book in any
53:46library she had ever kept.
53:48March was long and gray and dripping.
53:52The creek came up and went brown, and
53:54she remembered Ben's note in the margin
53:56of Weir's log, and found the spring by
53:59the big rock running clear out of the
54:01hill. And after that, she carried her
54:03water from there.
54:05The count in the back of the notebook
54:07went on.
54:08Porch pile, gone. Cellar wood, about a
54:11third left. Flour, a quarter of a
54:14bucket. Oats, half. Pills, plenty.
54:18Days, 108.
54:21Cole came on Saturdays. Every Saturday
54:24she wrote down what he brought, and
54:26every Saturday she told him what it came
54:28to so far, and every Saturday he said,
54:32"Ruth Ann, please." And she said, "Write
54:35it down or don't bring it." And he wrote
54:38it down.
54:39The deputy came on the 14th of April, a
54:42Tuesday.
54:43Ruth Ann was on the porch in the sun
54:45with the hatchet splitting kindling on
54:47the chopping block, and Cole was on a
54:49short ladder at the end wall pushing new
54:52chinking into the gaps the storm had
54:54opened.
54:55It was the first warm day. The snow on
54:58the road was rotten and gray, and there
55:00were bare patches of brown needles under
55:02the pines, and water ran everywhere.
55:06Ruth Ann heard them before she saw them.
55:09Boots in slush and a man's voice
55:12breathing hard, talking.
55:14Then they came around the bend along the
55:16creek. A woman in a tan uniform and a
55:19ball cap with a radio on her shoulder.
55:22And behind her in new rubber boots and a
55:25good wool coat carrying a leather folder
55:27under his arm, her son.
55:30Kevin stopped in the road. He stopped so
55:33suddenly that he slid a little in the
55:34slush.
55:36He stared at the porch.
55:38At the woman on the porch in the dark
55:40red coat and the wool hat with the
55:43hatchet in her hand standing straight.
55:46His face did several things one after
55:49another and Ruth Ann watched all of them
55:52and she would remember each one later.
55:55The first thing his face did was fall
55:58all at once as if someone had cut a
56:00string.
56:01The second thing it did was go white.
56:04The third thing was harder to name and
56:07it took longest and it was the one she
56:09would think about at night.
56:11"Mom." He said.
56:13"Hello Kevin."
56:15The deputy looked from one of them to
56:16the other.
56:18She was about 40, solidly built with a
56:20calm, tired face.
56:23"Ma'am." She said. "Are you Ruth Ann
56:25Gentry?"
56:26"I am."
56:28"I'm Deputy Hale with the County
56:29Sheriff's Office. We found a green
56:31Subaru registered to you down past the
56:33gate on Sunday.
56:35Your son reported you missing."
56:37She glanced at Kevin. "He said you might
56:39be confused but you'd wandered off."
56:42Ruth Ann set the hatchet down on the
56:44chopping block carefully, blade into the
56:47wood.
56:48"Did he?" She said.
56:50"When did he report it?"
56:51The deputy hesitated and then took a
56:53small notebook out of her breast pocket
56:56and looked at it.
56:57"The 19th of March, ma'am."
57:00"I left his house on the 10th of
57:01December." Ruth Ann said. "In the
57:04afternoon.
57:05He changed the lock on my door that
57:07morning while I was at the pharmacy. The
57:09lock cost $19.99.
57:13I can show you the receipt for my pills
57:14from that day. It has the date on it. I
57:17wrote my list on the back.
57:19It was very quiet on the porch.
57:21The creek ran.
57:23Water dripped off the green roof.
57:26Cole had come down from his ladder and
57:28was standing at the corner of the cabin,
57:30wiping his hands on a rag, saying
57:32nothing.
57:33Deputy Hale turned and looked at Kevin,
57:36and she did not say anything either.
57:38And that was worse than anything she
57:40could have said.
57:42"That's not," Kevin began. "Mom, that's
57:45not how it was. You know that's not how
57:47it was. I told you about the place
57:50downtown. I had a bed for you." "You
57:52did," Ruth Ann said. "You said they had
57:55a bed if I got there before 6:00. And
57:57you just drove off. You didn't call. We
58:00didn't know where you were. I was
58:02worried sick."
58:04He looked at the deputy. "I was worried
58:06sick." "You reported it in March," the
58:09deputy said quietly.
58:11"I thought she was with friends. I
58:13thought she'd turn up. She's done this
58:15kind of thing before. She gets confused.
58:17She talks to my dad out loud like he's
58:19in the room."
58:20Ruth Ann went inside.
58:22She came back out with Ben's composition
58:24notebook, the one marked Ruthie's
58:26winter, and she opened it to the back
58:28pages and held it out to the deputy.
58:31"That's every day since the 11th of
58:33December," she said. "The temperature in
58:35the morning, how much weight I burned,
58:38how much I ate, every pill.
58:41There's a page for what I owe this
58:42gentleman, Mr. Mercer, for groceries and
58:45medicine, to the penny.
58:47You can check my arithmetic. I was a
58:49school librarian for 31 years.
58:52I do talk to my husband out loud. I've
58:54talked to him out loud for 56 years. I
58:57don't see that it's anybody's business."
59:00The deputy took the notebook and turned
59:02the pages slowly.
59:04She turned a lot of them.
59:06She stopped at the page with Cole's name
59:08at the top and looked at Cole. And Cole
59:11nodded once.
59:12She closed the notebook and handed it
59:14back with both hands.
59:16"Ma'am," she said,
59:18"you don't seem confused to me." "I'm
59:21not."
59:22"Did you spend this whole winter up here
59:24by yourself?"
59:26"Mostly by myself. My husband built a
59:28cellar. Well, a man called Weir built it
59:31in 1934
59:33and my husband fixed it and filled it
59:35before he died, for me, in case.
59:38I've been living out of it since
59:40December."
59:41She looked at Kevin. "He never knew it
59:43was there.
59:44He never came up with us after he was
59:4612. He said it was boring."
59:49Kevin's mouth opened and closed.
59:52He shifted the leather folder from one
59:54arm to the other and the deputy looked
59:56at it and so did Ruth Ann. "What's in
59:59the folder, Kevin?" "Nothing. Some
1:00:01papers. Mom, look, we can talk about all
1:00:04this at home. I've got a place lined up
1:00:06for you, a good place in Nampa, a real
1:00:10place with nurses and a dining room.
1:00:12You'd have your own room. I just need
1:00:14you to sign a couple of things so I can
1:00:16handle it for you. The bank needs some
1:00:18things signed. You know how banks are.
1:00:21"What do the papers say?" "They just say
1:00:23I can make decisions for you so you
1:00:25don't have to worry about any of it
1:00:27anymore. You could rest."
1:00:29Ruth Ann looked at her son for a long
1:00:31moment.
1:00:33She thought of the boy on the porch
1:00:34steps with his arms folded, scowling,
1:00:37too old for everything.
1:00:39She thought of Ben's letter in her coat
1:00:41pocket.
1:00:43"You're going to want to make yourself
1:00:44small." She felt it happen. The old wish
1:00:48to make the moment easier for everyone,
1:00:50to say, "Well, let's talk about it." To
1:00:54put her hands in her lap.
1:00:56She did not put her hands in her lap.
1:00:59"No," she said. "Mom." "No, Kevin. I'm
1:01:03not signing anything and I'm not coming
1:01:06to Nampa."
1:01:07She said it in the same plain voice she
1:01:09had used for the temperature every
1:01:11morning.
1:01:12"When I go down and I'll go down soon,
1:01:14the snow's nearly off the road. I'm
1:01:16going to a lawyer in Boise, and I'm
1:01:18going to take back the power of attorney
1:01:20I gave you after I fell. All of it.
1:01:23And I want the house money put back in
1:01:25my name, in an account you can't touch.
1:01:28Whatever's left of it.
1:01:30"Ma'am," Deputy Hale said, "that's
1:01:32between you and a lawyer, and I can't
1:01:35tell you how it'll go.
1:01:36But I heard you say it, and I'll write
1:01:38down that I heard it, and that you were
1:01:40clear about it."
1:01:41Kevin stood in the slush.
1:01:44He looked at the deputy, and at Cole,
1:01:46and at his mother on the porch,
1:01:48and he did not seem to know where to put
1:01:50his eyes. "Mom, I didn't. I wasn't going
1:01:53to.
1:01:54It wasn't supposed to be like this.
1:01:57Things got bad with the business. It got
1:01:59really bad. I was going to put it back."
1:02:02"I know about the business," Ruth Ann
1:02:04said.
1:02:05"Your father knew, too.
1:02:07He knew in '21."
1:02:09Kevin went very still.
1:02:12She took the long white envelope out of
1:02:14the inside pocket of her red coat, where
1:02:16it had been since February, next to her
1:02:18own two letters, and came down the porch
1:02:21steps, one at a time, holding the rail.
1:02:24She held it out to him.
1:02:26"Kevin," in square capitals.
1:02:29He looked at it as if it might be hot.
1:02:32"He left this in a locked box under the
1:02:34floor," she said, "with the cellar, with
1:02:37the wood and the flour and the lamp oil.
1:02:40He said I should give it to you if you
1:02:41were the reason I came up here.
1:02:43He said to do it in front of somebody.
1:02:46So, here are two somebodies.
1:02:48I haven't read it.
1:02:50I'm not going to."
1:02:51He took it.
1:02:53His hands were shaking, and he had
1:02:54trouble with the flap, and finally, he
1:02:57tore it. There was one sheet of yellow
1:02:59legal paper inside, folded in thirds.
1:03:03He read it standing in the road, and
1:03:05they all waited, and nobody looked away,
1:03:08because there was nowhere else to look.
1:03:11It took him a long time, longer than one
1:03:14page should take.
1:03:16When he finished, he folded it back on
1:03:18its folds very carefully, the way his
1:03:20father would have,
1:03:22and he stood holding it against his
1:03:23coat.
1:03:25"What does it say?" Ruth Ann asked.
1:03:27She had not meant to ask.
1:03:30Kevin did not look up.
1:03:32"It says he forgave me the first time,"
1:03:35he said.
1:03:36His voice was very small.
1:03:38"It says there isn't going to be a
1:03:40second time unless I [clears throat]
1:03:42earn it.
1:03:43It says if Mom's up here, it's because
1:03:45of me, and I should go carry her water
1:03:48for a week before I open my mouth about
1:03:50anything."
1:03:51He made a sound that was almost a laugh.
1:03:55"It says the cabin is where he was
1:03:56happiest, and he's sorry he didn't make
1:03:59me come back up when I was 12."
1:04:02Nobody said anything.
1:04:04The creek ran.
1:04:05A chickadee landed on the porch rail and
1:04:07looked at them all and flew off. "I'm
1:04:10going to go," Kevin said finally. "I'll
1:04:13go. I'll call the lawyer myself. I'll
1:04:15put it back, Mom, whatever there is.
1:04:18I'll put the rest back as I can."
1:04:20He looked at the deputy.
1:04:22"I'll come down to the office, whatever
1:04:23you need."
1:04:25"I'll need a statement," Deputy Hale
1:04:27said.
1:04:28He nodded.
1:04:29He turned and walked back down the road
1:04:31toward the bend in his new rubber boots
1:04:34through the slush with the leather
1:04:36folder under one arm and the yellow
1:04:38paper in his other hand.
1:04:40Ruth Ann stood at the bottom of the
1:04:41porch steps and watched him go.
1:04:44And at the bend, before the pines took
1:04:46him, he stopped and turned around and
1:04:49looked back.
1:04:51He stood there a while.
1:04:53Then he raised one hand, not quite a
1:04:55wave.
1:04:57Then he went on.
1:04:59Ruth Ann went back up the steps, one at
1:05:01a time, and sat down on the bench by the
1:05:04door.
1:05:05And Cole came and sat beside her.
1:05:07And neither of them said anything for a
1:05:09long time. She went down to Boise on the
1:05:1222nd of April when the road was clear to
1:05:15the gate, driving Ben's Subaru, which
1:05:17started on the second try.
1:05:20Cole followed her in his truck the whole
1:05:22way, and at the lawyer's office
1:05:23downtown, a narrow brick building with a
1:05:26dentist downstairs, he sat in the
1:05:28waiting room with his hat on his knees
1:05:30while she went in.
1:05:32The lawyer was a young woman with short
1:05:34hair who listened to the whole story
1:05:36without interrupting, and then said,
1:05:39"Mrs. Gentry, you're going to make my
1:05:41week."
1:05:42The paper that took back the power of
1:05:44attorney was two pages long.
1:05:47Ruth Ann read both pages twice before
1:05:49she signed, and the young lawyer's
1:05:51assistant signed as a witness, and Cole
1:05:54signed as the other.
1:05:55And Ruth Ann wrote the date in her own
1:05:57careful hand.
1:05:59The money was harder and slower, and it
1:06:02was not all there.
1:06:04Kevin had spent a good part of it on the
1:06:05business and on what the business owed,
1:06:08but what remained was put back into an
1:06:10account with her name on it and nobody
1:06:12else's.
1:06:13And the lawyer drew up a plain agreement
1:06:15for the rest, so much a month for as
1:06:18many years as it took.
1:06:20Ruth Ann read that one twice, too.
1:06:23The lawyer asked her whether she wanted
1:06:25to go further, whether she wanted to
1:06:27make it a matter for anybody else.
1:06:29Ruth Ann thought about it, sitting in
1:06:31the chair by the window with her glasses
1:06:33on.
1:06:34"No," she said. "I want my money in my
1:06:37name, and I want my husband's chair.
1:06:40I don't want my son punished.
1:06:42I think his father took care of that."
1:06:45Her pension went back into her own
1:06:47account the next month.
1:06:49She rented two rooms above the hardware
1:06:51store in the little mountain town on the
1:06:53highway below the cabin, 40 minutes from
1:06:55the gate, with a window that looked up
1:06:57the valley toward the ridge.
1:07:00The stairs were steep, and she took them
1:07:02slowly with her hand on the rail.
1:07:05Kevin came on a Saturday in May. She
1:07:07heard a truck in the alley and looked
1:07:09down and saw him getting out.
1:07:12And then she saw what was in the bed of
1:07:13the truck, roped down under a tarp.
1:07:17He carried it up the steep stairs by
1:07:19himself, the green chair with the worn
1:07:22left arm, banging it on the turn of the
1:07:24stairwell, and swearing under his
1:07:26breath, and set it down by her window.
1:07:29Then he went down and came back with two
1:07:32cardboard boxes.
1:07:34In one were her books.
1:07:36In the other were the photographs from
1:07:38the house on Hillcrest, every frame.
1:07:41And on top was the one of Ben with the
1:07:43cracked glass.
1:07:45And the glass had been replaced.
1:07:47He stood in the middle of her little
1:07:49room with his hands in his coat pockets.
1:07:52He had lost weight.
1:07:54"The money's started." He said.
1:07:56"The first one went through Friday."
1:07:58"I know. The lawyer told me."
1:08:00"It's going to take a long time."
1:08:02"I know it is."
1:08:04He looked out her window, up the valley
1:08:06toward the ridge.
1:08:08"Mom,
1:08:09do you think I could come up there
1:08:10sometime? To the cabin?
1:08:12With you?"
1:08:14Ruth Ann looked at her son. She did not
1:08:16answer right away because she wanted the
1:08:18answer to be true.
1:08:20"Bring a bucket." She said finally.
1:08:23"Carry it half full,
1:08:25and don't go down to the creek after
1:08:26dark."
1:08:27He laughed, a short, startled laugh that
1:08:30sounded so much like his father that she
1:08:33had to sit down in the green chair.
1:08:35"Okay." He said.
1:08:37"Okay, Mom."
1:08:38He did not stay.
1:08:40But when he went down the stairs to his
1:08:42truck, she stood at the window and he
1:08:44looked up, and she raised her hand, and
1:08:47he raised his.
1:08:49In September, she and Cole went up to
1:08:51restock the cellar.
1:08:53They drove up in his truck with the bed
1:08:55full, and they spent 3 days at it, the
1:08:58two of them, the way Ben must have spent
1:09:00his last two autumns.
1:09:02Cole split the wood small, small enough
1:09:04for an old woman to lift, because she
1:09:06stood over him and told him so.
1:09:09They carried it down the nine rungs, one
1:09:11armload at a time, and stacked it
1:09:13against the left wall until it went back
1:09:16past the light of the lamp. They filled
1:09:18new buckets with flour and oats and rice
1:09:21and beans and sugar and powdered milk
1:09:24with the oxygen packets. And Ruth Ann
1:09:26wrote on the masking tape on each lid in
1:09:28her own capitals, which were not square
1:09:31like Ben's, but round like a
1:09:33librarian's.
1:09:35Wool socks with the store bands still
1:09:37on, matches in jars, lamp oil,
1:09:41a new tackle box with a red cross on the
1:09:43lid, and inside it, among the bandages,
1:09:46a bottle of blood pressure pills with a
1:09:48note taped to it that said, "For whoever
1:09:50needs them, check the date."
1:09:53On the last afternoon, she sat at the
1:09:55table by the window with a fresh
1:09:57composition notebook.
1:09:59On the cover, she wrote, "The winter."
1:10:02She did not put a name.
1:10:04On the first page, she drew the cellar
1:10:06from above, every shelf and bucket
1:10:08marked.
1:10:09On the second page, she worked out the
1:10:11days at one cup and added them up and
1:10:14wrote at the bottom, "About 140 if
1:10:17careful."
1:10:18On the third page, she wrote, "Wood.
1:10:21Two armfuls in the cold, one when it's
1:10:24mild. Keep the cellar wood for when it's
1:10:26worst. Bank the stove at night, ash over
1:10:29the coals, damper almost shut."
1:10:33On the fourth page, she wrote only one
1:10:35line.
1:10:36"You don't have to do any of this alone
1:10:38if you don't want to.
1:10:40There is a man named Cole Mercer who
1:10:42comes up every January."
1:10:44Then, she wrote a letter on yellow legal
1:10:46paper, folded it in thirds, and put it
1:10:49in a quart canning jar on the top shelf,
1:10:51right where a hand would reach.
1:10:54On the outside of the paper, where Ben
1:10:56had written Ruthie, she wrote,
1:10:58"For whoever comes up here in the worst
1:11:00week."
1:11:01The gray box she left empty on the
1:11:03bottom shelf with the brass padlock
1:11:06closed on it. And before she climbed up
1:11:08the ladder for the last time that fall,
1:11:10she turned to Cole, who was holding the
1:11:12lamp.
1:11:13"813,"
1:11:15she said.
1:11:17He looked at her.
1:11:18"If there's a December I don't come up,"
1:11:20she said, "you open it.
1:11:23Whatever I've left you in there by then,
1:11:25it's yours."
1:11:26"Ruth Ann."
1:11:28"Write it down," she said, "or don't
1:11:30come up."
1:11:32He did not write it down. He said it out
1:11:34loud once, 813,
1:11:37and she could see that he would not
1:11:39forget it.
1:11:41She went up alone on the 11th of
1:11:43December,
1:11:44not because she had to.
1:11:46She drove Ben's Subaru to the gate in
1:11:48the early afternoon and went around it
1:11:50on the old skid trail through the young
1:11:52firs and parked it nose out a mile and a
1:11:56half past and walked the rest of the way
1:11:58with the plastic sled behind her. 50
1:12:01steps and rest, 50 steps and rest,
1:12:05counting out loud.
1:12:07The creek ran black and quick under the
1:12:10new ice.
1:12:11She came around the last bend at dusk,
1:12:14and there it was,
1:12:15the small log house with the green roof
1:12:18and the stone chimney and the porch and
1:12:20the wood pile stacked along the wall,
1:12:23and the snow just starting to drift
1:12:25against the bottom logs.
1:12:27Nothing was broken.
1:12:29The door was closed.
1:12:31"Hello," she said,
1:12:33"it's me again."
1:12:34She untwisted the wire on the hasp.
1:12:37Inside it smelled of cedar and old smoke
1:12:41and a little of mice. She lit the stove
1:12:43the way Ben had taught her in 1969,
1:12:46paper and fine kindling and thumb-thick
1:12:49sticks crossed, the damper all the way
1:12:51open, and the second match caught.
1:12:54She fed it one stick at a time.
1:12:57"Don't rush it," she said. "I know."
1:13:00She made oatmeal and ate it from an
1:13:02enamel cup by the lamp, and then she
1:13:05raked the coals to the back of the
1:13:06firebox and laid two dry sticks across
1:13:09them and covered them with ash and
1:13:11turned the damper almost shut.
1:13:14She spread the sleeping bag on the
1:13:16bottom bunk nearest the stove, and she
1:13:18took the three wool blankets out of the
1:13:20tin trunk with the cedar blocks between
1:13:22them, and she put all three over her,
1:13:25and she lay down.
1:13:27Sometime after 2:00 in the morning, she
1:13:29put her bare hand out from under the
1:13:31blankets and laid it flat on the stone
1:13:33wall beside the bunk.
1:13:35The fire had been banked for hours.
1:13:38The stone was warm, the way a cat is
1:13:40warm where it has slept. Under the
1:13:42floor, in the dark, the chimney footing
1:13:45stood in the cellar like a tree, giving
1:13:48back what it had drunk all evening.
1:13:50And around it, with the wood and the
1:13:52flour and the lamp oil and the socks and
1:13:55the jar on the top shelf with a letter
1:13:57in it for somebody she would never meet.
1:14:00She lay there with her hand on the stone
1:14:03under three blankets by her own choice
1:14:06and listened to the creek far down.
1:14:09And she slept.
1:14:11Right now, there are three links on your
1:14:12screen. On the left, our newest video.
1:14:16In the center, a link to our channel. On
1:14:18the right, a whole playlist of stories
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1:14:23us in the comments what you think and
1:14:25stay with us. Thank you for watching to
1:14:27the very end.

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