A Long Vacation
Danielle Norbeck fastened her seatbelt and shoulder harness, kicked off her shoes, turned on the car stereo and immediately went into relaxation mode. Her husband, Roy, put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway.
"We'll drive for about an hour and then stop for breakfast," he said.
"That's fine with me. I'm going to sit back and unwind, and let you do the driving."
"You're really taking advantage of this trip, aren't you?"
"Damned right, I am!" she laughed. "And why shouldn't I? We haven't been on a real vacation since our honeymoon."
The two were married shortly after graduating college. Within days of returning from their honeymoon, they both joined the workforce: she as an intensive care nurse and he as a physical therapist. For seven years they put aside as much money as possible to afford a down-payment on a house. Now that they reached that milestone in their lives and became homeowners, they decided to treat themselves to a week in Vermont.
"No work, phones or emails—just plenty of rest and relaxation," Danielle said, looking out the window as they passed familiar landmarks on their way to I-93 North.
Passing through New Hampshire, Roy stuck to the interstate highways until he crossed the border into the Green Mountain State. When he put his turn signal on and pulled off onto the exit ramp, his wife looked up from the book she was reading.
"You don't need gas already, do you?"
"No. I just thought we would take the local roads from here on. One of the things you wanted to do on this vacation was go antiquing. You won't find any shops on the interstate."
"Good thinking," Danielle said, closing her paperback book and tucking it inside her oversized purse.
Although Puritan Falls was as picturesque as any of the small, rural Vermont towns they drove through—not to mention it had the added attraction of being beside the Atlantic Ocean—the Norbecks enjoyed the scenic beauty of the neighboring New England states as well.
They stopped at three antique shops that afternoon, and Danielle bought a cherry mantel clock, a brass reproduction bed-warmer and a set of pewter candlesticks.
It was after four o'clock when Roy asked, "What's the address of the bed and breakfast?"
Danielle retrieved the printout of the reservation confirmation from her handbag and found the information, which her husband plugged into the Garmin.
"If there's no traffic, we ought to be there in about forty-five minutes," he announced after referring to the navigator's ETA.
"Traffic? In this part of Vermont? You've got to be kidding. Look around you. This is like the land that time forgot."
As Danielle had surmised, there were few cars on the road, even though it was rush hour. In exactly forty-seven minutes the navigator advised them that they were arriving at their destination.
"Isn't it beautiful?" Danielle exclaimed when she saw the huge white colonial building flanked by its colorful gardens.
"Yes, it is," Roy replied, although he believed some of the homes on Danvers Street and Atlantic Avenue were just as grand. "Why don't you go into the office and check in while I get the luggage out of the trunk?"
Once they were registered and their bags unpacked, the Norbecks went into the dining room and had a delicious roast beef dinner including a decadently rich dessert. Afterward they retired to their room where Roy sat in an overstuffed chair, reading the newspaper, while his wife relaxed in the inn's claw-foot tub.
"No cooking. No washing dishes. I could get used to this sybaritic way of life real quick," she said, after getting out of the bath and wrapping a thick terry cloth robe around wet body. "I may never want to go back to Puritan Falls."
Roy poured two glasses of wine, handed one to his wife and then the two of them cuddled on the couch in front of the fire.
"Maybe when we retire, we'll move here to Vermont," he said.
"Can't you just imagine it?" Danielle asked dreamily. "The two of us old and gray, sitting in rocking chairs on the porch, watching our grandchildren play in the yard."
"Grandchildren? Don't you think you're rushing things a bit, sweetheart? We don't even have any children yet."
Danielle laid her head on her husband's shoulder and quietly sipped her glass of wine. She did not want to tell him of her suspicions, not until she was absolutely certain she was pregnant. Knowing how much her husband wanted a family, she did not want to get his hopes up.
* * *
"I'm going to gain at least ten pounds before this vacation is over!" Danielle exclaimed as she finished her stack of pancakes smothered in Vermont maple syrup.
"We'll have to join a gym and work out when we get home. We don't want to get old and fat before our time, do we?"
After breakfast, the Norbecks walked out to the parking lot.
"Where do you want to go today?" Roy asked, reaching in his jeans pocket for his keys.
"I don't care. Why don't we just get in the car and drive and see where we wind up?"
"Sounds good to me."
For three hours they drove through quaint little New England towns, occasionally stopping to take pictures or browse through an antique store.
"I don't know about you, but I'm getting hungry," Roy announced when he saw a sign advertising a family restaurant up ahead.
"After that breakfast?"
"We ate hours ago."
"Well, stop if you want to. I can get a small salad or something light to hold me over until dinner."
Following the directions on the sign, Roy turned right at the next intersection. After driving for ten minutes, he wondered if he had taken the wrong turn.
"Where is this place?" he asked.
"Look at that!" Danielle suddenly cried with excitement. "It's a covered bridge! I've never ridden over one."
Her husband came to a stop and eyed the bridge suspiciously, wary to cross it.
"How do we know it's safe?" he asked.
"How do we know any bridge is safe? Be brave!"
"I can be brave, but this smacks of foolishness."
"Come on, Roy, for once in your life live dangerously."
At his wife's goading, he took his foot off the brake and lightly pressed the gas pedal. The car inched toward the bridge. As the front tires came in contact with the structure's wooden floor, Roy fought the urge to gun the engine and race across to safety.
"So far so good," Danielle said, watching her husband's fists tightly gripping the steering wheel.
Only after all four tires were again on the paved road did he relax.
"Now, where's that restaurant?" he repeated.
"I don't see any signs. Maybe we should ask .... That's funny."
"What's funny?"
"Look at the trees."
The leaves were resplendent in their most exquisite fall foliage. The only problem was it was June—a good four months before the trees turned in autumn.
"I've never seen leaves that color in the spring," Danielle observed.
"Me either. There's something else that's odd."
"What?"
"According to my watch, it's not yet 1:30, so why is the sun about ready to go down?"
Danielle turned to face her husband and noticed a sprinkling of gray at his temples.
"Did we have an accident? Could we both have been knocked unconscious for a few hours?"
"Leaves don't turn color in a few hours," Roy replied, "not even in Vermont."
Within moments the sun went down, and Roy put his headlights on to see where he was going.
"Maybe we ought to head back to the inn," Danielle suggested.
"Good idea."
Roy made a three-point turn in the road and headed back toward the covered bridge. He did not look forward to crossing the old wooden structure in the dark, but he wanted to return to the normalcy of the bed and breakfast.
"Are you sure this is the way back?" Danielle asked twenty minutes later.
"It has to be. We stayed straight on the road; I never made any turns."
"Nothing looks familiar."
"That's because it's dark out."
Not long after he said those words, Roy noticed the sun was beginning to rise in the east.
"But the sun just went down, not an hour ago!"
"Let's get out of here," his wife suggested.
With no sign of the bridge up ahead, Roy pulled his car to the side of the road. He reached into the glove box, took out his navigator and plugged it into his cigarette lighter. He pressed the power button and waited—nothing happened.
"It's dead," he announced. "The power is on, but the screen is black."
"It worked fine yesterday."
As he reached into his pocket and took out his iPhone, he exclaimed, "God bless Steve Jobs!"
Unfortunately his phone was dead, too.
"It can't be!" he cried. "I just charged it last night. Try yours."
"I didn't bring it," Danielle admitted guiltily. "I'm on vacation; I didn't want to be interrupted. We'll just have to keep driving until we find the bridge or find someone to give us directions."
Roy looked down at his dashboard and noted with relief, "At least we've got plenty of gas."
With a reassuring smile for his wife, he put the car in drive and pulled back onto the road.
* * *
By the time the needle on the gas gauge reached the three-quarter mark, the Norbecks had counted three sunsets. Each time the sun rose, Danielle noticed her husband's hair had more gray in it. She did not need to look into a mirror to know the same could be said of her. As if by silent agreement, neither of them spoke of the premature aging process.
When Roy suddenly veered off the road and onto the shoulder, the couple was forced to face the truth.
"What's wrong?" Danielle asked.
"My eyes," her husband replied. "I can't see that well. Would you mind taking the wheel?"
"What's the use? We've been driving for hours. Let's face it: we're going around in circles. We're like those kids in The Blair Witch Project."
"At least they had a map," Roy said, hoping a little humor would ease the tension.
His wife's eyes filled with tears, which soon slid down her cheeks.
"Look at us. We're twenty-seven years old, and yet we look like we're in our sixties. I don't know what happened when we crossed that bridge, but if we don't get back to the real world, we'll soon die of old age."
"You did say you wanted to grow old with me," her husband laughed.
"Yeah, but I didn't know it would be this soon. How's the gas?"
Roy squinted, trying to read the dials on the dashboard and replied, "Just about a quarter of a tank."
A moment later the sun began to set.
"I wonder what it's like on the other side of that bridge," Danielle said, her throat tightening with emotion. "If we manage to cross it again, will we find we have no jobs and no house? Are our parents still alive?"
"Who knows?" Roy replied, still determined to keep up his spirits despite the gravity of the situation. "When we get back to Massachusetts, we might be as famous as Amelia Earhart and Jimmy Hoffa."
Danielle briefly laughed at her husband's joke but soon fell silent.
"I'm scared," she confessed, turning her face toward the window, unable to meet his eyes.
"So am I."
Roy's admission steeled her resolve. She opened the passenger door and traded seats with him.
"I'll drive until my eyesight goes," she said.
* * *
It was disconcerting to travel down a road with no buildings and no other vehicles—just trees. Even more upsetting was that the trees rapidly went through their lifecycles as the seasons changed repeatedly. Time not only continued to go by quickly, but its rate was accelerating.
Danielle took her eyes from the road momentarily and looked at her husband. His hair—what was left of it—was completely white.
"We better get home soon," he said, his voice quivering with advanced age. "I've got an exam tomorrow, and I have to study."
Danielle realized with a feeling akin to a stab in her heart that Roy was not joking this time. Rather, he was showing signs of age-related dementia.
As the snow that had fallen only moments earlier melted, and the trees suddenly sprouted green leaves, she felt her hand begin to shake. As a nurse, she recognized the tremors immediately.
Parkinson's, she thought. Her bleak conclusion was soon followed by another: We're not going to make it. We're going to die in this bizarre alternate universe.
As though fate intended to confirm her worst fears, the low fuel warning light on the dashboard started to glow.
This is it. We haven't much gas—or time—left.
Outside the car, spring gave way to a glorious summer day, just the type of weather she and Roy enjoyed.
Maybe I ought to stop trying. After all, do I really want to die in a car? Why don't I just lie down in a field and breathe my last as the sun's rays warm my face?
As her shaking hands gripped the wheel, preparing to turn, Danielle saw something in the fading daylight up ahead.
Is that ...?
Her heart leapt with joy.
"Roy, wake up!" she cried. "There's a bridge up ahead."
Her husband did not respond. Like many people with advanced dementia, he was oblivious to everything around him.
But is it the same one? she wondered fearfully. Yes, yes, I think it is.
She increased the pressure on the gas pedal, and felt the car slow down rather than accelerate.
"Damn it! I'm just about out of gas!
Less than a yard from the entrance to the bridge, the car slowed to a crawl.
"No! I'm going to die in my own world if I have to get out and walk across this bridge, dragging Roy behind me."
The motor sputtered, but the car inched forward, seeming to find enough gas to get across. The engine finally stalled as the front tires touched the road on the opposite side. Thankfully, there was a decline, and the car rolled safely out of the bridge. Danielle closed her eyes, accepting her inexorable fate.
"At least I'm going to die in my own world!"
* * *
Danielle's eyes opened when she heard a tapping on her car window.
"Y-yes?" she asked sleepily.
"Are you all right, Ma'am?" a worried motorist inquired.
Her eyes went to her husband. He was still sleeping in the passenger seat. No words can describe the joy she felt when she saw his full, thick head of black hair.
"I think we are," she replied. "We seem to have run out of gas."
"You're in luck then. When I saw your car in the middle of the road, I called AAA. They'll send someone out with five gallons of gas for you. That ought to be more than enough to get you to the nearest service station."
"If we don't go back over that bridge," Danielle joked, feeling relief flood over her.
"What bridge?"
"The covered bridge over ...."
Danielle turned her head but saw only open road in back of her.
"The nearest covered bridge is almost twenty miles from here," the motorist informed her. "There used to be one down the road but it got washed away by Hurricane Irene."
"I must have been dreaming," she said, knowing any rational person would not believe her story.
"Here's the tow truck now," the Good Samaritan observed. "Are you sure you're all right? You don't want me to call an ambulance?"
"We're both fine," Danielle insisted, noting that Roy was awake and alert.
After thanking both the motorist and the tow truck driver for their assistance, Roy—both his eyesight and mental faculties restored—got back behind the wheel.
When he started the engine, the navigator on the dashboard turned on.
"We're back," he said, as he found directions to return to the bed and breakfast.
* * *
The Norbecks were both surprised and delighted to learn that only seven hours had elapsed since they had ventured out on their sightseeing trip after breakfast.
"It seems more like centuries to me," Danielle observed.
"Let's have an early dinner and go up to the room," Roy suggested.
"Great idea!" his wife agreed.
An hour later, when he stepped out of the shower, Roy noticed his wife putting her clothes back into her suitcase.
"What are you doing?"
"I want to go back to Puritan Falls tomorrow. What about you?"
"Oh, yeah! I've had enough vacation to last me a lifetime. I want to go home to my nice, normal life. No more surprises!"
Danielle smiled and placed her hand on her abdomen.
Should I tell him now? she wondered. No, I'll wait until we get back home. After all, on this side of the bridge, I've got plenty of time to tell him.
Salem often goes to Vermont. He visits Ben and Jerry, who make a special sundae just for him!
