Chapter 3

I drove my truck down a county trunk with Andrea following in my car. Spotting the road sign I signaled and turned onto a country lane heading towards Summer Lake, the road’s surface covered in packed snow with a meager sprinkling of road salt and sand. I parked on the shoulder and got out.

Andrea parked behind me and stood by my side. “That’s it,” I said, pointing.

“That’s it?” she replied.

“Yeah ... My cousin Dustin’s camping trailer. He and his wife use it as a vacation home. He said we can use it for free. It’s a pretty location, don’t you think?”

“Beautiful,” she replied. “The lake is frozen over. Who owns this property?”

“My uncle Floyd. He owns forty acres here and plants soybeans, corn and oats.”

“How do we get to it? The snow’s awfully deep.”

“I’ll get the snow-blower going.”

I rolled my snow blower onto the lift gate, lowered it to the ground and started it up.

“I’m going to sit in the car where it’s warm,” Andrea shouted over the noise of the machine.

It was over an hour by the time I had cleared the gravel drive down to the trailer. My snow blower had adjustable skids I had set so the mouth of the unit was a couple inches above the surface -- to avoid ingesting gravel that might jam the mechanism. By the time I was done the drive wasn’t completely clear of snow, but passable.

After loading the blower back into the truck I drove down the half-mile drive and parked near the trailer. Andrea parked my car beside the truck. Opening the camper’s door with the keys my cousin had provided I stepped inside and Andrea followed me.

“My cousin is an engineer. He set this up for off-grid living. Everything runs on propane -- the heater, the range, the refrigerator ... the toilet.”

“Toilet?” she asked.

“Yeah -- it’s a propane-powered incinerating toilet.”

“That beats a composting one,” she remarked.

“Agreed. It also eliminates the requirement for handling black water. He has a propane- powered generator for backup power -- main power is from the solar panels on the roof.”

“First priority is some heat,” Andrea replied. “I’m freezing.”

“Yeah, no foolin’”

Outside was a gang of three propane tanks of the sort used to power gas grills. I opened the valves on all of them and the pressure gauge needles perked up about halfway. Back inside I followed Dustin’s instructions for starting the furnace and the generator, and lighting the pilot lights.

I climbed to the roof and swept snow from the solar panels. Back inside the furnace had already taken the chill off the place. “Feels warmer already,” I remarked.

“Yeah,” Andrea replied. “I can’t see my breath any more.”

Dustin’s camper was a good sized one -- not the sort you could haul behind a family car. Easily forty feet long it would require a good-sized pickup truck with a fifth-wheel hitch for towing -- not that it was going anywhere. Dustin had removed the wheels and had it permanently sitting on concrete piers. A plywood skirt surrounded the base of the trailer and a set of wooden steps led to the door.

“This is really quite nice,” Andrea remarked as she looked over the accommodations. It had a kitchen with a sink, range and refrigerator, a dining area with a table that seats four, a bathroom with the incinerating toilet, sink and standing shower, and two bedrooms, each with a full-size bed.

Andrea removed her winter coat. “I think I’ll use the bathroom. Do you know how to use the toilet?”

“I’ve used it before,” I replied, “The instructions are printed on it.”

Andrea stepped into the small commode. I headed to the car and brought in her bags.

“Casey!” I heard her calling me from the bathroom.

“What?” I replied through the closed door.

“There’s no water!”

I checked the kitchen sink and sure enough nothing came out of the tap. “Something must be frozen,” I replied. “I have some bottled water in the truck.”

I returned to the trailer. Andrea was standing by the sink and I poured water over her hands so she could wash them. “I’ll put in a call to Dustin and see what he has to say.” My call went to voicemail and I left a message.

“This won’t be a pleasant stay without running water,” Andrea said. “How am I going to take a shower? Do my hair? You have a fitness center provided at work. You can shower there, so it’s no problem for you.”

“I wouldn’t say, no problem...” My phone warbled and I answered the call. “Dustin...”

Sorry, my cousin said, I forgot the place is winterized.

“Winterized?”

Yeah ... The water comes up from the lake. There’s a pump that fills a holding tank in the ceiling. We drain all that in the fall so it won’t freeze.

“So ... what are we supposed to do about water?”

There’s a water dispenser in the kitchen. You’ll have to haul it in.

I spotted the water dispenser with an empty five-gallon jug on its top and a rack with three others. “Yeah, I see it.”

The tap water isn’t potable anyway. By the way, there are some spare propane tanks in storage under the trailer.

“What about the hot water heater? I turned it on per your instructions.”

You might as well turn it off. It’s an on-demand unit and activated by water flow.

“So, no water, no flow, no hot water.”

That’s right. Sorry about that. I should’ve told you.

“Great. Thanks.” I cancelled the call.

“Well?” Andrea asked.

“The place has been winterized.”

“So, no running water,” she replied.

“Right. No running water. We’ll have to haul water in. You can do your hair in the sink. I can fill a jug and pour it over your head.”

“Are you going to pour water over me in the shower, too? How long are we going to have to be here, anyway?”

“Well ... That depends. Ben Drummond is the one being a prick. He seems determined to make this difficult -- and expensive for you. At least Sarah is being cooperative. She told me I could keep the house, but I told her I’d only end up selling it. So we agreed that she will keep the house and buy out my share of the equity we have in it. Once that happens I’ll have a hundred large in my bank account and we can scout out a more permanent crib.”

“When’s that going to happen?” she asked.

“Paul is selling his place and will use the proceeds to finance Sarah’s buyout of my interest in our place. He has it on the market but this is not the best time of year to be selling real estate. I understand he’s shown it a couple of times but no offers yet. So, we’re in a holding pattern until finds a buyer. In the meantime, the mortgage on our place is still coming out of my bank account every month. On top of that I’m paying my lawyer and I’m paying your lawyer. Your lawyer is the one running up the big bills. My cash flow is flowing the wrong way and my reserves were getting uncomfortably low. We needed to do something to cut costs. That’s why we’re here. Think of it as an adventure -- a vacation.”

“A vacation?” she asked.

“Remember -- that’s what a vacation is -- a change of aggravations...” I grabbed two of the empty five-gallon jugs and carrying one under each arm I put them in the back of the truck. Back inside I removed the empty one from the top of the dispenser and picked up the other.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m going to fetch some water. I’m also going to check out the state of the spare propane tanks and make a trip to the Fleet ‘n Farm and exchange them as necessary. The last thing we need is running out of fuel in the middle of the night.”

“Where are you getting the water?”

“Back at the house.”

“I think I should go out for some groceries,” she said.

“Here.” I handed her the keys to the trailer.

“I also need some cash.”

From my wallet I retrieved my debit card and handed it to her. “The PIN is 1999. Try to keep it under fifty bucks -- my balance is a little low until next payday.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

I grabbed the snow shovel from the truck and cleared snow from the base of the camper. I opened a hinged panel in the plywood skirting and took out three propane canisters. Opening the valves on each to check their conditions yielded the same result thee times -- empty.

After tossing the empty cylinders into the truck I started her up and headed for the house Sarah and I had shared.

After parking in the driveway I headed for the front door. It was locked. I tried my key with no results. She must’ve had the locks changed already, I thought. The garage door was up and her car was there so I knew she was home. I rang the bell. I rang it again.

Whipping my phone out of my pocket I placed a call. Casey, what do you want?

“Will you answer your door, please? I’ve been ringing the bell”

I was in my shop and couldn’t hear it. Be right there.

Shortly the door opened. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Fetching water.” I brought in two of the empty jugs. “I’ll fill these in the laundry tub.”

“What do you need water for?” she asked.

“Andrea and I are staying at Dustin’s camper. You remember the place.”

“Yeah -- that Fourth of July party he held there. He bought a box of fireworks and we were shooting off Roman candles and skyrockets over the lake. You and Andrea? Andrea Drummond?”

“Yeah. She left Ben.”

“And she is taking up with you? After all the nasty things you had to say about her?”

“Last month when I got stranded during the blizzard -- I was snowbound at her place. We had a chance to talk things through. It was a humbling experience -- she told me what happened in high school and how miserable she was since marrying Ben.”

“What did happen in high school?” Sarah asked.

“She told me things in confidence that I won’t repeat. It was a lesson for me -- that I shouldn’t disparage someone without walking a mile in their shoes. I apologized to her for the shabby way I treated her during prom. I’m sorry for the things I said to you about her, too.”

“I’m impressed, Casey,” she replied. “I didn’t think you had it in you. I wish you had shown me some of that tenderness earlier on.”

“I wish I had, too. Water over the dam, Sarah. Andrea and I decided to let bygones be bygones and pick up where we left off. I hope you and Paul will be happy together.”

“Do you mean that?” she asked.

“I do with all sincerity. He’s probably a better fit for you than I ever was; and I hope he can give you what I was unable to. Now, I gotta get these jugs filled. Because it’s winter, there’s no running water there.” I put one under the tap in the laundry tub and began filling it.

“No running water? What are you doing about showers? Laundry?”

“We haven’t figured that out yet. I can shower at the fitness center at work.”

“Tell Andrea if she wants to come here for a hot shower, she’s welcome. Just have her give me a call. You can use the washer and dryer here if you want to as well.”

“Thanks.” I lugged the two jugs to the truck and brought back the other two and began filling them.

“Casey -- are you and Andrea planning on getting married?”

“We haven’t thought that far ahead, though I’d be lying if I said we weren’t headed in that direction. My main goal is getting her away from Ben. He treated her very poorly -- nothing physical but mental and emotional abuse.”

“Speaking of Ben ... I still haven’t been paid for that sectional. The deposit check Andrea gave me was returned marked NSF.”

“As soon as he found out, Ben transferred all the funds from their joint account to his own. He’s hired a high-powered attorney who’s doing his damndest to throw roadblocks in the way of their divorce. How much do they owe you on the sectional?”

“Forty-five hundred,” she replied.

“Andrea wanted it so we’ll figure out how to use it. I’ll buy it from you ... once the real estate is settled. Any word on that?”

“Paul said there have been a couple more showings. He has the place priced to sell, but who wants to move into a house in the middle of the winter?”

“Keep me in the loop, will you?”

“I will, Casey. I still have feelings for you. I hope you still have them for me.”

“I do, Sarah, I do and I appreciate the offer to help. You won’t mind if I take the gas cylinder off the grill, will you? And the spare one in the garage?”

“We won’t be grilling for a while,” she replied. “Go ahead.”

“I’ll return them when we’re done with them.”

I knew the spare in the garage was full so I set it by itself in the back of the truck. The one on the grill was mostly empty, so I put it with the other empties and headed for the Fleet ‘n Farm. There I exchanged the four empty canisters for full ones and bought three more new ones. I put it all on my Visa, since wasn’t maxed out. Yet.

Back at the lake I navigated the gravel drive and saw my car parked. I unloaded the eight propane tanks and placed them in the storage locker under the trailer. Two at a time I carried the water jugs in, installing one on the dispenser and setting the others in the rack.

Andrea was sitting at the dining table and watching the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.

“Something smells good,” I remarked.

“I have a lasagna in the oven.”

“Yummy ... Home made?”

“Yes, it’s home made. While you were gone I went out and collected enough snow to melt so I could cook lasagna noodles. I browned meat on the stove and assembled it in an aluminum foil pan I had the foresight to buy at the grocery.”

“Really?”

“No, not really. It’s a frozen one. I think we’re going to be subsisting on frozen entrees for the duration.” She handed me my debit card. “Here...”

“Well, we’ve got water now. Twenty whole gallons of it. By the way, Sarah says you can go over there for a hot shower and to use the washer and dryer whenever you want -- just give her a call.”

“That’s very civil of her.”

“Well ... Once we realized that she wanted Paul and I wanted you and neither of us really wanted the other, we decided to put aside animosity and work toward what we all want. Unlike your husband.”

“This place is really quite pleasant,” she said, “and would be quite livable when the water is running.”

“Yeah ... It really wasn’t designed for winter use,” I replied.

“Well, it’s going to be tested. I had the weather on the TV and they’re forecasting a polar vortex hitting us over the next day or two. It’ll be double-digits below zero by morning with strong winds.”

“We’ve got plenty of propane in reserve.”

The timer buzzed and Andrea removed the lasagna from the oven. She removed a jug of red wine from the fridge and poured some into a couple of juice glasses. “Cheers,” she said and we clinked rims.

“Cheers,” I replied.

Andrea cut servings of lasagna from the foil pan and placed them on plates. I reached across the table and took her hand. “We’ll get through this,” I said.

“I know we will.”

After dinner I went out to the truck, popped the hood and loosened the battery cables. Then I hoisted the heavy beast out of the engine compartment and carried it inside.

“What’s that?” Andrea asked.

“Truck battery. I’m keeping it inside to better our odds the thing will actually start in the morning. We can jump start the car if we need to.”

“I don’t think I’ll be going anywhere tomorrow,” she replied. “Why not bring the car battery in?”

“The truck is quite primitive -- it’s not all computerized like the car. I worry about boogering up the electronics.”

I took out my laptop and powered it up. “One big problem with living off the grid is no wifi,” I remarked as I used my phone to set up a local hotspot. “This will be agonizingly slow and probably send my data usage through the roof ... but I need to check my email.”

“When you’re done, maybe I can check mine?” she asked.

“Certainly.”

“Listen -- wind is coming up.”

“Yeah -- it’s going to be a cold one.”

Andrea checked her mail and then powered down the laptop. I shut down the hotspot. “I suppose we should get ready for bed.”

We lay together in our clothes on the full-sized bed in the camper’s main bedroom. Outside the wind howled and the trailer shook. “It sounds like the furnace is running non-stop,” I remarked. “I hope it can keep up.”

“I hope so, too,” she said and held onto me. I pulled a quilt over us. “I feel the cold coming in ... the windows.”

“They’re not double-glazed,” I replied. “I’m sure the insulation in this trailer isn’t any too good. It wasn’t built for winter use.”

Despite the wind howling I finally drifted off. When my phone alarm went off in the morning it was dead quiet in the trailer -- and, cold. Andrea pulled the quilt around herself. “No heat,” she said.

“No heat, lights, no nothing. I’ll bet we ran out of gas.”

Pulling on my parka I went outside. Sure enough the three tanks were empty. I swapped in three of the full ones and tossed the empties into the truck. Back inside I re-lit the pilot lights on the range, furnace, refrigerator and toilet.

The furnace fired up but without electricity the fans Dustin had in stalled in the ductwork weren’t running. Without propane they had run in vain all night and depleted the electrical system’s batteries, which without propane had no backup generator to keep them charged. There wasn’t even enough juice in them to start the generator. I went outside and used the backup rope starter to get the generator running.

“It’s starting to warm up,” Andrea said.

“Yeah -- I swapped out the tanks and relit the pilots. Who’d have thought you’d have a pilot light on a fridge or a toilet?”

“How much did it cost to refill those tanks?” she asked.

“About sixty bucks.”

“If we go through that much propane in a day, this place will cost as much as staying in a Motel-6.”

“Motel-6 doesn’t have a kitchen. We’d be spending more on meals.”

“Motel-6 does have running water,” she retorted.

“We’re not going to go through that much gas per day. First off -- those tanks weren’t full to begin with. Last night was exceptional and I was hoping they’d last through the night, and they almost did. Now that the wind has died down I don’t think we’ll be losing heat like we did. And, milder weather is in the forecast. I’m hoping that three tanks will last at least a week.”

“It would be worth it to me to spend sixty a night for a room at a Motel-6,” she said.

“Well, I don’t make Ben Drummond’s kind of money.” Andrea’s jaw dropped and I knew right away I had hit a nerve.

“That’s right,” she replied, her lip trembling. “That’s what I am -- a spoiled, spendthrift gold- digging Mrs So-And-So.”

“Andrea...” I reached for her shoulder and she jerked it away. “I’m sorry -- it didn’t come out right.”

“That’s the problem. I think it did come out right. Casey -- I KNOW money’s tight. I KNOW we have to go through this to get where we want to be. You didn’t need to rub it in.”

“I apologize, Andrea. I wish I could take it back. I really am sorry. That’s not how I think of you.”

“Do you mean it?”

“Of course I mean it,” I replied. “We’re in this together.”

“All right -- I forgive you.”

I embraced her and kissed her lips. “Kiss and make up?” We kissed again. “I know this is a tight space and we’re apt to get on each other’s nerves. Let’s keep our eyes on the prize.”

“Yes, let’s. I’m sorry I snapped at you. Maybe I did deserve your comment.”

“Let’s not argue over who owes whom an apology, okay?” She nodded. “I had better get to my job. You’re sure you won’t need the car?”

“I’m sure.”

I replaced the battery in the truck and placed a duffel with my work clothes in the cab. With some reluctance the truck’s engine fired up and I headed toward my office. Once there I showered in the fitness center and dressed in a white shirt and tie. I made it to my desk by eight thirty -- my nominal starting time.

My boss stopped by. “Casey -- there are cases for you to review in your work queue.”

“Got it.”

“How’s the divorce going?”

“Mine’s going real well. We’re into our four month mandatory waiting period.”

“I’ve never gone through the process,” she said. “I wonder why the wait.”

“Probably so nobody makes a rash decision. Sarah and I are splitting on good terms. It’s Andrea’s husband who’s being the prick.”

“Well ... good luck.”

I logged into my workstation and brought up the first case to review. I was about halfway through my queue when my phone rang. “Hello?”

Casey -- it’s me. Andrea.

“I recognized your voice. Is there a problem?”

I heard the generator cut out. I hope that doesn’t mean we’re out of propane again.

“Check the pilot light on the refrigerator. It has a thermocouple safety cut-off. There should be a little light flashing if the pilot is lit okay.”