Stitch in Snow

Everyone has moments they wish to savour again and again. And the pleasure, the sense of superb well-being that I'd savoured that Thursday, that fateful Thursday night watching TV…

I sat upright. TV. I got out of bed and turned on the set provided by the management. At least, in the States, you had night long TV to distract the insomniac. Firmly I concentrated on some ancient, now creaking but occasionally enjoyable Melvyn Douglas situation comedy. I even managed to fall asleep with the thing winking and shifting light patterns all night long.

The early news advised me that the Midwest was still storm-bound. Pennsylvania was demonstrably bright and sunny with seasonably mild temperatures. I shut the TV off and dozed for another hour and a half. I still had time to kill before Tim's call so I breakfasted downstairs in the hotel dining room. Then I wandered about scenic restored colonial Bethlehem. I could wish that other cities had executed their urban renewals with as much thought and care. Before I'd visited Tim's university, I'd had a mental picture of the great steel foundries burping noxious gases into the air and a vista of a dank, horrible industrial town. Bethlehem, with a Christmas star hidden on its dominating slope, was refreshing.

I ran up the mileage on the rented car while Tim and I toured Allentown for a place to lunch. We discussed at length his courses for the coming year. He intended to return to Ireland as soon as his last final exam was over. Would I ask Mr. Hengarty, our landlord, if Tim could have his usual summer job, but starting July 1st.

'I thought I'd take June off as a holiday this year. You know, kinda hack around with the others.'

'You do that anyway, it I can get you out of bed.'

'You know, I was thinking, what with people asking me questions I couldn't answer, that I don't know that much about Ireland, except Wicklow and Dublin. And that's the other thing, would you have the Raleigh people check my bike over? And my bike pack needs a new strap.'

I dutifully took out my diary and made the appropriate notations.

'Hey, is that the one you got in place of your evidence?'

I let him look, pointing smugly to the gilt initials. I didn't realise it then but Tim had adroitly changed the subject on me.

'Say, how long would that sort of thing take?'

'If you mean until your last exam in May, I sincerely hope not. Peter Taggert said he was going to file for an early trial date…'

'Early next year?'

I hardly thought so but the possibility was a nagging worry. If they were willing to pay my expenses and air fare to and from Denver, they could bloody extend the benefit to Ireland and let me work where I was comfortable. I felt shrewish and berated myself for such unworthy thoughts. Fortunately it was now time to collect Trish from Cedar Crest as her duties with the college choir were over.

Trish and Tim were both more relaxed with me as goose-berry that day. It was bright sunny weather so we went for a drive, to the Pennsylvania Dutch area. Corny, but it gets me to drive through small towns called Intercourse, Bird of Paradise and King of Prussia. We noticed the signs of storm damage, trees down, barns with roofs half torn off and Tim and Trish regaled me about the hurricane force winds in early April. We tried to persuade Trish that Ireland is a windy place, too, with winds regularly at gale force 6 and 8.

This afternoon it was obvious to me, the two being unable to hide their affection, that Tim and Trish were very much attached to each other. Tim sat between us in the front seat of the car, with an arm impartially about both 'girls,' but I notice that his hand curled around her shoulder. Which is as it should be. We found a restaurant which boasted seven sweets and seven sours, and made pigs of ourselves. I should never eat dumplings. I had indigestion all the way back and couldn't wait to drop the two of them off so I could get on the outside of an alkaliser.

By Monday morning, I was feeling rested, restless and resentful of the circumstances which prevented my returning home. There was not much to do in Bethlehem with Tim, and Trish, in classes. I could spend only so much time browsing in shops in the city centre or admiring the historical exhibits. I could go over to New York and pester my sister but it meant sleeping in the same room with Veronica. I'd already spent three days with her at the start of my tour when I was doing my publishers and agent.

I considered, at breakfast, phoning my friend, Mairead, in Ireland. She was staying in the cottage, feeding the dog, and house-sitting. She'd be at the boutique at this hour but a call would be full rate. Natural instincts of economy intervened. Similar instincts kept me from doing more than window-shopping but I managed to waste most of the morning.

When I got back to the hotel from my aimless time- killing, there was a message for me to call a Denver number, collect.

It was Peter. At his jovial greeting, my mid-section went into a state of spasm from anticipation.

'The news is A-okay, all systems go. We did it. We got Jerry off without a trial. Charges are completely dropped. Guess why?'

'Well, the news said you had another blizzard. Did you have an epidemic of house burglars in ski-masks?'

'How the hell did you guess?'

'How do you think I write children's books? What actually happened?'

'Two clowns were apprehended in the act. They were wearing ski masks and one was tall enough to be Mrs. Gresham's snowman. But,' and Peter paused to emphasise the point, 'when his apartment was searched, items were found which had been stolen the night of the first blizzard from houses not far from Noreen Sue's.-'

'Huh! Isn't that circumstantial evidence, too?'

'Whose side are you on?' Peter sounded surprised at my remark. 'It's enough for me to blow Mathews' set of circumstances. That and you.'

'I thought you thought he wouldn't buy my alibi?'

Peter chuckled, a smug, self-satisfied legal laugh. 'I have it on good authority he was already unhappy.'

'Oh?' Peter had a goodie to tell me and wanted to take his own time.

'You see, his daughter goes to the same school my girls attend. When Laura found out that "Timmy's" author was vouching for Mr. Lowell, she told Pierrot that she was going to tell Daddy a thing or two.'

While the scene so conjured had tremendous dramatic possibilities, I didn't quite see a ten year old daughter dissuading a father from pressing a manslaughter charge. Admittedly American youngsters have a great deal more freedom than Irish kids but…

'You don't mean that the nasty D.A. was persuaded by his daughter?'

'No,' the reply was firm, 'but you'll remember I said that he would try to weaken your testimony by a smear campaign? I think he realised that your integrity is well-nigh unassailable, Dr. Lovell. And the circumstantial evidence of the ski-masked burglars gives us all an out.'

'Us all? What do you mean? I was telling the truth. That should have counted for more than my title or the fortuitous greed of thieves.'

'No,' said Peter slowly, thoughtfully, 'we don't like to say such things in books for our children, do we? But it exists and is a viable force in modern, polite, sophisticated society.' He gave a rueful laugh. 'I wish you did have to come back to Denver, Jenny. It was a real pleasure to meet you and not just because you were ready and willing to lay your reputation on the line to help Jerry…'

I was glad he hadn't read my mind of the previous evening or this morning.

'… and Petra and the girls will be mighty disappointed too.'