with his mother. Krystal videotaped the entire week, and pointed out errors in the medicine practiced in Port Charles, criticized the nursing staff for not wearing sensible shoes. Of course, this all stopped when Bert found God, and they lost cable.
In Quinn, there was no broadcast reception, no ABC, CBS, or NBC. Even with the tallest of antennas, the mountains prevented this. As Jake left his trailer house with his book bag, he stepped out into another blizzard. Quinn had six months of winter, and six months of fire season. Despite the amount of snowfall, the lightning sparked wildfires from May until November. The town of Quinn had been burned twice before, and would not be fooled again. The snow was welcomed.
He took the usual road out of the trailer court, just in case Bert was watching. He would double back in an hour, and Bert would not see him enter Rachel’s back door. Jake stepped in the tracks from the snowplow, already filling again. He continued into town, past the movie theater, finally showing Home Alone, even though it had been released in November, five months ago. Jake continued on, past the Booze and Bait, closed as usual. Behind the counter of the hardware store, he could see terrible Della smacking her gum, and did not wave.
Buley had no clothes for him today, but that was fine. He was here for a different reason.
“AA books?” Buley was not rattled by his request, just called for Rocky. “I’m glad Bert’s getting help. It’s been a long time coming.”
“They aren’t for Bert,” said Jake. “They’re for me.”
“Interesting,” said Buley. “You are much too vain to be an alcoholic.”
Jake followed Rocky to the rear of the store. For some reason, Buley kept all the self-help books with the hunting clothes. Perhaps she was trying to send a message. Jake bought a big blue book written for drunks, and several paperbacks written for the people who loved them. He didn’t love Rachel, not yet anyway, but he wanted to understand her.
* * *
The sky was a pearly white color, and the snow kept coming. Feet of it; this was an honest-to-God blizzard, not unusual for Montana in April. Jake entered Rachel’s back door, and the winds pushed the snow across her yard in great dunes that rose all the way to the top of the privacy fence. Her back door was almost frozen shut, but Jake managed to yank it open. Inside her house, he pulled the space heater into his sewing corner.
He had made progress. Five of the shirts were completely done, and hidden deep inside his bedroom closet. He worked on these shirts only when Rachel was gone. When she was home, he sewed things for her house, and clothing for himself.
Jake did not turn on the stereo, tried to remain as quiet as possible, just in case Bert was spying. When he heard footsteps on the porch, the sound of boots stomping to dislodge the snow, he dove behind the couch.
Black Mabel entered without knocking. Jake stood up from behind the couch, and she swung a snow shovel at him.
“It’s just me,” he protested, holding up his hands in surrender.
“Oh,” she said, eyes tiny and darting. Jake could tell she was more stoned than usual, and offered no explanation as he returned to the sewing machine. It would only confuse her.
“I’m here to shovel off the roof.” Black Mabel was dressed like an arctic explorer, her familiar black trench coat straining to contain the thick layers of down underneath, goggles dangling from her neck.
“Okay,” Jake said, and tapped at the foot pedal as the needle began to whir.
“I don’t want the roof to collapse. There’s four feet of snow up there.”
“You don’t have to explain to me,” said Jake. “I’ve been watching you do it for years.”
“I made a promise,” said Black Mabel.
“Be careful,” said Jake, knowing that she was reckless. He kept sewing and lost himself in the fifth T-shirt. He listened to the shriek of the wind and the thumps and scrapes of Black Mabel. She had made a promise to Frank, and apparently it stretched through the years, extended to his daughter.
He made an extra grilled cheese sandwich, and waved out the back door until he caught her attention. He didn’t want to shout her name, just in case Bert was listening. She cleared half the roof, had paused to catch her breath against the impotent chimney. She stared at him until he returned with a plate,