THE TRIBUNE-DEMOCRAT

She drove across the Pennsylvania winter landscape, and the years seemed to peel away.

The road signs counted down the miles to her hometown, and her anticipation grew.

She knew Johnstown had changed much in the time she’d been gone.

And, of course, so had she.

Would she even recognize the once-gritty place known as the “Flood City”? Would there be a rush of old feelings and familiar emotions?

Or would she now be the outsider, a stranger intruding on the peaceful Conemaugh Valley?

Night was falling as she crossed into Cambria County for the first time in a decade. The highway carried her through town names from her past as lights of the season twinkled from houses along the quiet countryside.

On the radio, a holiday song was playing. “White Christmas.” One of her favorites.

The dusk was broken by bright lights from a shopping center, and her mind again returned to Johnstown.

And to the day she left.

What would happen after all these years? That question caused the nervous excitement to grow within her.

Bing Crosby gave way to Nat King Cole, singing of chestnuts on an open fire.

Outside the wind shook the pines above the highway.

She shivered – not from the chill of the wind, but from the memories of that sudden parting, from thoughts of the circumstances that led her to leave.

As if to punctuate her thoughts, Karen Carpenter followed Nat, and declared: “I’ll be home for Christmas.”

Despite her anxiousness, she smiled at the irony.

She was sure of only one thing. This Christmas was taking her home in many ways, back to the town she had left and back to confront the past she had left behind.

With snowflakes swirling before the headlights of her car, she exited the highway and turned toward downtown Johnstown ...



Chapter 2



BY DALE WORCESTER

As she pulled into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn, Barbara remembered that last dinner there with her parents as she tried to make them understand why she was leaving and why she needed a change in her life.

Her beautiful dream had been shattered by the loss of her darling Will, struck down by a drunken driver on the eve of her wedding.

She saw little to keep her in the city she had lived in and had built her hopes on. There was nothing left but the bitterness of what might have been.

She had picked New York because of its bustle and the prospects for employment.

She had hoped to build a new life free from all the disappointing memories of Johnstown.

Now she was back, hoping to rekindle the feeling of promise she experienced before the tragedy that drove her away.

In her room, she looked out at the newly fallen snow that had created a mantle of white to the streets darkened by the dusk.

The sparkle of the Christmas village in the park added a welcome to her homecoming. She felt a sudden impulse to walk again in that fairyland that defined the Christmas season in Johnstown.

She left the warmth of her room, bundled up against the winter chill she remembered so well, to drink in the sights and memories of her former life.

It was the week before Christmas, and there were other people in the park seeking respite from shopping and walking the paths to admire the lighted dollhouses exuding cozy warmth within their picket fences.

The snow hung heavy on the eaves of the small roofs, adding to the feeling of permanence of this tiny town within a town.

She stood in the center of the park and looked at the surrounding buildings. Their lighted windows, winking through the bare tree limbs cast a golden glow over the city as she regained old memories of her early years as a teenager; going to high school, then to UPJ, the evening she and Will celebrated her graduation in this park – but in the soft warmth of May and with these same bare trees covered with bright green leaves. They had high hopes for what lay ahead for both of them.

Barbara realized that period in her life had transformed into an emptiness she visited only when something reminded her of those dreams.

As she made her way back to the warmth of the hotel, she felt comforted. She could get on with her life. Will was close to her heart in a safe place with her good memories.

The restaurant beckoned when she entered the lobby, and suddenly she was hungry, not only for food, but also for the company of others.

She was soon seated at a table and started with a glass of wine to celebrate her homecoming.

As she took her first sip, she thought of that last dinner with her parents before catching the train for New York the next day. They had tried to understand, but were troubled by her decision.

In the ensuing year, she managed to persuade them to visit her in New York several times, but couldn’t bring herself to return to Johnstown. When her father retired, they fled to Florida and eliminated her last tie to the city.

After a meal that rivaled anything she had encountered in New York, she lingered over a second cup of coffee, planning her interview the next day.

She had been running the business end of a medical clinic in the Soho district when the principals decided to retire.

One of the doctors had some connections with Memorial Medical Center and, knowing she was from Johnstown, offered to recommend her for a position there.

She was tempted to turn it down at first, not sure she could stand to return to the sadness she associated with her hometown, but in the end, thanked the doctor and sent in her resume.

She had been tentatively offered a job, subject to an interview with the administrator.

The walk in the park had been a sort of test, and she had passed the first hurdle. She could express a sincere interest in the job the next day.

As she prepared for bed, she took one more look out the window and let past memories flood her consciousness. She smiled. She was ready for her new life.

Chapter 3

BY DR. RICHARD CARTWRIGHT



“Miss McKay ...”

Barbara glanced up from her lap. She smiled across the desk at a perfectly groomed hospital VP.

“It’s a generous offer,” she told him.

“We think we’re getting our money’s worth.”

She paused. “It’s just that, I need a day or two to consider all this.”

“Certainly.” The gentleman sprang to his feet, his chair recoiling.

“Take all the time you need.

“But before you leave, we should finish the tour. You haven’t seen the cardiac lab or the trauma ICU.”

“No!” The swift response was unintended, and Barbara gazed at her watch with hopes of disguising her fluster.

“I mean, it’s getting late.”

Granted, it had been one long day of meet-and-greet, but it was not the late hour that had stirred her angst.

The trauma ICU was the last place that Barbara McKay would allow herself to visit.

Dead last. She twice folded her employment offer and promised to phone in a day.

It was not the same Conemaugh hospital she remembered, not with all the internal upgrades and completed expansions.

Somewhere in this endless maze, a much younger Barbara McKay had taken her very first breath.

Within these walls, she had volunteered hours, visited the sick, had even surrendered an appendix, yet now she struggled to find a public exit.

The parking garage she encountered was nowhere near the one where she’d left her car.

Taking to the streets, she walked heel-to-toe in the narrow paths of freshly shoveled snow.

Her first street crossing was a slushy mess, but it was the second that gave her pause.

Gazing to the right, she studied a building that had survived a decade with no discernable change. Her high school alma mater.

An icy wind slapped at Barbara’s face, now touched by a tear. There was life in that old building. There were drama clubs and study halls and the percussive sounds of the Crushers band. And somewhere in that building, surviving it all, was a tribute plaque to a twice undefeated championship baseball team. And on that plaque was the near-forgotten name of Will Stages.

Barbara wiped herself dry and crossed the street. She could return to that school and walk those halls; indeed, it might do her well.

But not tonight. This day was assigned to duties and obligations, the worst of which was yet to come.

“I know it’s late,” Barbara said apologetically.

“I wasn’t sure about visiting hours.”

Across the counter, a male attendant rubbed the last of an antiseptic into his palms. He scowled in playful jest, then grinned.

“It’s a nursing home, not a prison. We’re not much for rules.”

He sniffed at one hand with a look of disapproval, then stepped around the counter.

“Besides,” he added, “Dori doesn’t get too many visitors.

“We’ll take the stairs.”

The attendant led the way to a private room. Dori lay motionless.

“I should have mentioned,” the attendant said, “Dori gets a sedative every night. She doesn’t talk much when she’s at her best, so don’t expect it now.”

“But you don’t mind if I sit a while?”

He shrugged and motioned her into a chair.

“There’s a call light if you need me.”

Time stood still as Barbara silently gazed upon what had once been a lovely figure, now reduced to a listless form with a nasal wheeze.

The scent of liniment was thick.

Not long into the mournful regret, a young Hispanic nurse arrived with a blood pressure cuff.

Barbara watched the routine with limited interest. When the final notation had been copied to a clipboard, the nurse stared up. “Are you related?”

Barbara hesitated, considered. “She ... would have been my mother-in-law.”

“Oh ...” The comment seemed trite and free of mind, but only for an instant. Then something changed.

“Oh,” the nurse repeated. Her gaze wandered, and her brow showed signs of unease.

In dramatic slow motion, she settled herself on the edge of the bed.

The next 10 minutes would later be recalled as a blur of disclosure and discovery. This young nurse, whose name was yet to be shared, had precise memory of the very night that had shattered Barbara’s life, as well as the weeks that followed.

She mentioned Will by name.

Who was this person? Why would anyone, Barbara aside, retain such vivid memory of a tragedy so far removed? And what had brought them together?

“I have meds to pass,” the nurse finally said.

They were now on their feet, and the nurse drew near in a whisper.

“But I’m off tomorrow, and there are things you might like to know. And ...” she nibbled her lip in a moment of indecision, “and there’s someone I think you should meet.”

Chapter 4



BY BREANNA ROCK

Barbara was unsure of what this woman meant by, “There is someone you should meet.”

Who could she possibly have to meet? Why all of a sudden did they want to meet her now?

Things seemed very odd.

Barbara decided to stay until the nurse was finished with her shift so that she would be able to gain a bit more insight on this particular situation.

The Hispanic nurse finally arrived in the lobby, where she greeted Barbara with a slight grin.

“My name is Jazmin Cortez and I must say I am sincerely sorry for being so brief earlier,” she said with a worried look.

“I wanted to talk to you alone so that I can discuss with you what I know about Will.”

Barbara paced back and forth, not sure what to make of the woman.

“Before you tell me about Will, I was wondering who it was that you wanted me to meet?”

Jazmin looked toward Barbara and whispered softly, “Allen Michaels, the drunken driver.”

Barbara felt as though she had been struck in the heart by lightning.

As she fell back into one of the cushioned seats in the lobby, a tear fell from an eye.

“As much as I don’t want to see the man who has done such a horrible thing to Will and to me, I think that I should have a word with this man,” she said.

Jazmin sat down next to her, offered arms of comfort and told her that she would arrange for them to meet.

“How do you know Mr. Michaels?” Barbara asked with a puzzled voice.

“Well, you see, Barbara, Allen Michaels is my father,” Jazmin said.

In shock, Barbara quickly arose from her seat and rushed to the door of the building.

“I will be here tomorrow around 5 o’clock,” she yelled back at Jazmin.

“Meet me here and please bring your father along.”

On her way back to the Holiday Inn, Barbara found herself unable to think about anything but Will and how she could have stopped the whole situation.

Barbara still blamed herself for Will getting hit.

“I need to speak with this man to settle everything, and to somehow calm my hate for this man,” Barbara said to herself with a hushed tone.

She rushed into the hotel room as fast as she could, sat down on the bed and began to sob.

Barbara then abruptly stopped and told herself, “It is time to forgive.”

By morning, the sun was shining through her window, and awakened Barbara from her slumber.

She began her day as she normally did, with a refreshing shower and breakfast.

As she peered out the window, she saw snow swirling through the downtown streets.

Although it was such a beautiful sight, Barbara couldn’t help but think about what the outcome would be after she met Allen Michaels.

Later that afternoon while waiting for the CamTran bus, she grew nervous, wondering what she was going to ask this man.

She stepped onto the bus and sat in the seat directly behind the driver.

Looking down at her watch, she saw that it was 4:45.

Barbara hoped that Jazmin would be in the lobby with her father at her side.

Stepping off the bus, Barbara walked slowly across the slushy pavement leading to the two nursing care center doors.

She stepped inside and noticed a man sitting in the lobby all alone.

Waiting for Jazmin, she struck up a conversation with this man. He seemed to have a certain warmth about him that made Barbara approach him.

It was 5:03 and Jazmin had still not shown up.

She heard the man mumble beneath his breath, “Dear Lord, what is taking my child so long?”

Barbara couldn’t help but wonder who this man was waiting for.

“Excuse me, but who is it that you are meeting here?” she asked.

The man answered in a slow, modest tone, “My daughter, Jazmin.

“She and I were to meet here, and then I was going to speak to a woman about something that had changed my life and hers.”

Chapter 5



By PATTY EPPLEY

Barbara’s heart began to pound as she felt the color drain from her face.

Her first inclination was to flee and admit that this whole return to Johnstown was a bad idea.

Everything was just fine with her nightmare swept under the rug and pushed down to a dark cave in her gut.

She ran 10 years ago, so run again – back to her sanctuary of being lost in the crowd.

But, from somewhere deep within, hands shaking, sweat beading on her upper lip, and eyes welled with tears, Barbara uttered the words, “I am that woman your daughter wanted you to meet.

“I am Barbara McKay.

“It was my fiance, Will, you ran down and killed on the eve of our wedding.

“Yes, that’s who I am. And just who are you, Allen Michaels?”

His rugged, weathered, tired face was bewildered.

His lips began to move but made no sound.

His hands reached out shakily toward Barbara, but she backed away.

He managed to utter, “Oh, Miss McKay, I am so very ….”

“Dad, Barbara, my God, I’m sorry for being late.

“Have … have you met?” Jazmin asked nervously.

Barbara and Allen looked at Jazmin and nodded.

Jazmin sat down next to her father and grabbed one of his shaking hands.

“It was me who arranged this meeting, and I feel it is only right for me to make an attempt toward putting together the pieces of the past 10 years.

“I was working in Conemaugh’s emergency room the night Will died.

“He came in as a trauma.

“I was with him from the moment he came in until he passed away.

“Barbara, I am so very sorry.”

Barbara, in a daze, her eyes fixed as if looking inside of herself, said, “I was too late.

“He was gone when I got there.

“Those damn pants,” she said.

“He went out because I thought his trousers to his tux were too long. I asked him to go back to have them shortened.

“He thought they were fine just as they were. But I wanted everything to … be … perfect …

“How could I have been so damned superficial!”

Jazmin reached to Barbara, “Barbara, you need to know how much Will loved you.

“He read my name tag and said, ‘Jazmin, you should see my Barbara. We are getting married tomorrow. She is the most beautiful woman in the world. She is my angel.

“Could you please tell her how much I love her and that my life began the moment I met her?

“Tell her my dad is calling me to go fishing with him on a lake that looks like glass,” Jazmin told Barbara.

“Could I ask you something, Jazmin? Please check in on my mom, she’s very sick.

“Could you hold my hand?

“He then smiled and closed his eyes so very peacefully.”

Barbara’s face softened and she closed her eyes and wrapped herself in her own arms as if to hold onto Will and those last words she is hearing for the first time.

After a minute, she looked into Jazmin’s endearing eyes and said, “His father was his best friend. He passed away two years prior to Will’s accident.”

She then softly asked, “Did you see me there?

“Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“You were with your parents and one of our social workers,” Jazmin said.

“The doctor who worked so very hard to save your Will was just preparing to come out and sit and talk with you.

“I was then called into another trauma, which turned out to be my father.

“He was in an accident and hit a telephone pole. It was not until the next day that I discovered it was my father who hit Will. We didn’t know how to reach out.”

Allen, wiping the tears from his eyes, looked at Barbara and said, “Barbara, I am so sorry and have been unable to forgive myself for what happened to Will.

“My wife, Jazmin’s mother, died.

“That day of the accident was only a few months after her death and would have been her 50th birthday.

“I went to our favorite restaurant alone, had dinner, and had too many glasses of wine.

“I should not have driven, but thought I would be OK for the two miles home.

“God, if only ...” He covered his face with his hands and sobbed.

Jazmin held onto her father and the three sat in silence for a few minutes.

Barbara reached over and grabbed Allen’s cold, wrinkled hand and said quietly, “I forgive you, Allen. And me.”

Jazmin then said, “At Will’s request, my father and I have been taking care of Dori for the past 10 years.

“When our search for you kept coming up empty, we realized that we could honor one of Will’s final wishes.”

“Jazmin,” Barbara said, “Thank you for being there with Will and holding his hand.

“I always imagined him cold and alone. You were his angel that night.”

Just then a group of high school carolers walked into the nursing home lobby. Holding candles, they gathered near the tree next to the sofa where Barbara, Jazmin and Allen huddled together, and they sang, “Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright …”