In an Instant(29)

My mom’s fingers go to her mouth, and she stumbles back into Uncle Bob, who catches her. Her head shakes back and forth as if trying to erase the news like a bad drawing on an Etch A Sketch, and Uncle Bob helps her back to her seat.

“Should I go there, or should I stay here?” she asks numbly of no one in particular.

I don’t know if I’ve ever heard my mom ask for advice. It’s a sign of how distraught she is.

Burns speaks up. “They’ve given your daughter a sedative, and she won’t wake up for hours. So for now, you should stay here.”

The news delivered, he pivots to return outside.

My mom’s voice stops him. “And Vance?” she says.

Burns turns back and shakes his head, and my mom buries her face in her hands. Uncle Bob rubs her back and tells her it’s going to be okay.

But it’s not going to be okay, because as Burns steps from the ambulance, his eyes scan the dark horizon, and his mouth sets in a deep frown as he studies the leaden clouds rolling toward them and the snow that has begun to fall.





30

I wait with my mom and Uncle Bob. The storm has arrived, and the hail on the roof peppers the metal like a drum brush, a constant reminder that they are dry and warm while Oz and Vance remain at its mercy.

It’s hard to believe today is Presidents’ Day, the third day of the three-day weekend I was so looking forward to. It occurs to me how happy I was supposed to be right now—my final morning on the slopes—possibly snowboarding, most likely skiing. I was supposed to be having the time of my life, flying down the mountain, whipping past Mo on the bunny slope, racing Vance, riding the lifts with my dad, all while taking the day, the fun, and the moment for granted, the way every mortal does.

Uncle Bob is incredibly kind as he sits with my mom. He rubs her back, doesn’t yap like he normally does, and keeps watch out the window for any sign of change.

“How’s Karen?” my mom asks at one point when the hail is particularly bad.

“Okay,” Uncle Bob answers. “The doctors want to keep her in the hospital one more day just to be sure, but she’s fine.”

My mom’s mouth tightens into a thin line, her lips disappearing, hurt mixing with all the other emotions she is dealing with. Aunt Karen hasn’t called, and she isn’t here. My mom’s injuries are worse than Aunt Karen’s, and her ordeal is a thousand times worse, but Aunt Karen has yet to even offer a condolence.

“She’s not like you,” Uncle Bob says. “Karen’s not strong. She’ll come around. She just needs to process things.”

“Come around? Process things?” my mom hisses, the hurt transforming quickly into bitterness. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Last I checked, she has all her children.”

“She’s upset,” Uncle Bob says. “And she’s worried about Natalie. You know how she gets. She obsesses.”

My mom wraps her arms around herself.

“Give it time,” Uncle Bob says.

My mom doesn’t answer. There are some things time can’t heal. She and Aunt Karen have been friends twenty years, but in a lifetime, this moment won’t be forgotten.

Mary Beth, the ambulance driver, turns from the cab to face them. “They found Vance,” she says. “Helicopters spotted him near Pineknot Campground. He was still walking, which is a good sign.”

Uncle Bob kisses my mom’s hair and hugs her tighter, both of them grabbing hold of this news as a promising sign for finding Oz.

A few minutes later, their newfound hope is dashed when Mary Beth turns again and says, “Helicopters are grounded for the day. Too much weather.”

My mom barely reacts, one more lash after a thousand, and she has nothing left to give.

“Hang in there,” Uncle Bob says. “Oz is strong, and the search parties on the ground are still out there looking.”



It’s noon when Burns walks toward the ambulance, the wind biting his face and causing him to tuck his chin into the collar of his coat.

Uncle Bob nudges my mom when he sees Burns through the window, causing her to lift her head. This time she doesn’t wait for Burns to get to them. Stepping out from the warmth, she rushes forward, her face so hopeful my heart aches with the cruelty.

Burns’s eyes slide left, then down to a spot on the ground beside her, and she stops abruptly, her breath catching as her hand goes to her mouth and her head shakes, the other possibility of why he’s coming to talk to her suddenly filling her mind.

“We found the dog,” he blurts before she can finish drawing the wrong conclusion. Not allowing her hope to be obliterated completely—not yet, anyways.

She blinks several times rapidly as she absorbs the news, and then, without a word, she pivots and returns to her vigil. Bingo was found. Oz is still out there.





31

“What do you think?” a deputy says, walking up to Burns. The man’s hands are shoved in his pockets, his shoulders hitched to his ears to protect his face from the snow that now falls sideways.

“Twenty more minutes,” Burns says. “We’ll give it a little longer.”

An hour later, when the world is in total whiteout, he makes the decision he was praying he wouldn’t have to make and suspends the search for the day.

It is a death sentence for my brother, and everyone knows it—the rescue crew, Burns, my mom. Another storm front is moving in, and it will be at least a day, probably two, before the search will resume. No one could survive that long.