Circles and Snow

Winter was late the year we lost Timmy Miller. He was a good boy, only twelve, the quiet sort with no real friends. The first snows only came at the end of December, a week before the schools went on holiday break. The kids got excited then. There had been some doubt for awhile as to whether we’d see a white Christmas that year.

Timmy was last seen leaving Ms. Madison’s classroom by Casey Williams, a girl he had known since first grade. In a small town, they all rode one bus, and it would drive along the roads and drop off all the kids. Timmy was late. He had missed that bus. But that was okay, because sometimes he liked to walk.

His mother realized he was missing by dinnertime. She called the school, but no one could tell her where he was. He’d taken his coat, his small hands swathed in knitted mittens made by his grandmother, and he had been wearing a red bobble hat pulled over his ears by his mother that morning. Don’t worry, they had told her, the bus was probably running late because of the snow. Somewhat relieved, she had decided to wait.

But by nine that evening Timmy was still missing. Sandra Miller called Sheriff Willows, and the manhunt began.

In little towns, everyone gets involved.

Casey Williams was the one to find him, traipsing herself through a foot of freezing snow in her brand-new wellington boots. They were pink. Timmy Miller was blue.

He lay face down on a small hill, cold and unmoving. His red coat was torn from a fall. A few feet away in the freezing snow, the Sheriff found a pair of broken glasses, which Sandra Miller confirmed were her son’s. They had skittered from his face when he fell, one lens smashed dangerously close to Timmy’s eye. He had a cut on his forehead from where the glass had broken.

There was no town doctor. They had to call over to the neighboring town of Brutusville whenever there was trouble, and Dr. Simmons would get in his old Jeep and drive on down the dirt road to Sumhaven to see what was the matter. The snow was coming down thick by then, and Timmy had been outside for hours. Sheriff Willows had a blanket in the back of his truck he used at the annual picnic. He brought it out and wrapped the boy in it, and carried him to his truck to take him home.

At the Miller house, they made a terrible discovery. The snow had damaged the power lines, and while the generators had kicked on, the phone lines were down. Sumhaven was notorious for poor cellphone reception. Only Bill Haverson had one that seemed to work, and he had to drive ten miles up the road towards Inaba to use it. Sheriff Williams went to the Haverson’s house directly, and Bill packed into the Sheriff’s truck to drive to find reception. Meanwhile, Sandra Miller sat and waited.

It was morning before the Sheriff and Bill returned, but their news was not good. They had come back on foot. The Sheriff’s truck had been caught in the snow, and they had no reception anywhere for miles. So that was the situation, a child with pneumonia and a doctor who couldn’t be reached.

Winter stayed late that year, only melting in late April. Timmy’s glasses were fixed, and his coat was mended. His mother did not like to waste. But Timmy was gone. Dr. Simmons had been reached almost a week too late, the town was snowed in, and Timmy had been out in the cold too long. Sandra Miller had moved away, leaving behind Sumhaven for good, trying to escape the memories of that terrible storm.

But for everyone else the season of loss was gone, and the kids at the school were ready for the approaching summer. Casey Williams stood in her not-so-brand-new wellington boots. They were pink, her favorite color. Her hair was caught back in a red bow tied lovingly by her mother that morning. She wore a smart little red jean jacket. She looked out across the sunny hills into the forests where she had found Timmy Miller asleep in the snow, and she smiled; and she looked to the bus, and smiled again; and then she began to walk, wondering what it would be like to be blue.