THE ROUTE TAKEN

As published in The Path

Leafless branches hung over the snow-packed trail as Paul, hands steady on the wheel,

coaxed the Buick down the slope. The front tire caught a patch of ice. “Easy, girl,” Paul said

as he turned into the slide. The tires found dirt and bit in.

“When can we take the ferry again?” Stephen whined from the back seat.

Elsie turned to her four children crammed together. Joseph and Mary pushed each other

while Michael, squished by his siblings, pouted between them.

“At least another month,” Elsie said and adjusted Margaret on her breast. “The river

hasn’t started breaking up yet.”

Stephen crossed his arms and sunk into the corded seat. “Why do we even have to go?”

“Your grandmother,” Paul said as he focused on the road. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

The trees opened to a cloudless sky, and the road evened. A sign marking the ice road

sat ahead, and indistinct wheel marks trekked across the wide river. Margaret pulled herself

off Elsie and rubbed her little face as the tires of the Buick eased onto the frozen crossing.

“Down there,” Elsie said, glancing at the white river disappearing into the distance. “Does it 

look as if the water is opening?”

Paul slowed the car. His eyes narrowed, and he set his jaw. “That spot opens early every

year. The sign says the river is passable.” He nodded once and moved his foot to the gas.

The tires crunched across snow and ice as the forest grew smaller in Elsie’s mirror. A

family of deer hugged the trees and watched the car cross the expanse.

“Over halfway there,” Paul said, turning to Elsie with a smile. “The deepest part of the

river is behind us.”

A sickening crack erupted beneath them and echoed across the river in a descending

tek-tek-tek.

“What was that, Mama?” Joseph said.

Paul’s grip tightened on the wheel as another crack cut the air. The car jolted backwards.

“Paul.”

“Not now.” The engine revved, and the car dipped again.

“Mama!”

“Out,” Paul said, jamming the gearshift into PARK. “Take the children. Walk to your

parents’ and get help.”

“You’re not staying here.”

“We can’t lose the Buick. I’ll get it out.” Paul stared deep into Elsie’s eyes. “Take the

children. Go.”

Elsie tore her eyes from her husband and turned to her children. “You heard Papa.

We’re walking the rest of the way.”

“Mama, no,” Mary said, shaking her head. “I want to stay with Papa.”

Elsie looked sternly at her daughter. “Papa will catch up.”

Another crack. The vehicle lurched. Mary screamed.

“Now, children,” Paul said and reached towards Michael. “Climb over the seat.”

One by one, the children clambered over the seat. With the weight in the front, the

vehicle shifted and another crack thundered down the river. Paul rushed around the vehicle

and opened Elsie’s door. His feet were under six inches of water, and in his eyes, Elsie saw

a fear she had never known.

“Pass the children to me.”

Nodding, Elsie helped one child after another across her lap and to their father’s arms.

When all four children were on solid ice, Elsie, holding Margaret to her chest, stepped from

the vehicle.

Water colder than ice rushed into her boots. Knives stabbed her feet. Elsie gasped.

“Go, Elsie. Take the children and go.”

“Come with us.”

“The Buick isn’t going much deeper. Look how thick the ice still is,” he said, motioning

to the fissure. “But I’ll need help to get it out.”

Seeing the determination and unfathomable stubbornness in her husband’s eyes, Elsie

nodded. “Be careful, Paul,” she said and kissed him on the cheek. “This family needs you.”

Turning her back on her husband, Elsie waded towards shore, slipping every second

step, as the sun threw sparkles across the open water. “Let’s go, children,” she said and

ushered her kids towards the trees.

“But Papa,” Mary cried.

“Your papa is smart. He’ll get the car out, and we’ll see him soon.”

Michael was fixed in place, tears freezing on pudgy cheeks. “Come along, Michael,”

Elsie said and scooped him onto her hip as she clutched Margaret to her chest.

Her feet were cinder blocks as water sloshed in her boots, the icy knives now no more

than tingles.

When they reached shore, Elsie turned. Paul’s pants were darkened to the knees, and he

braced against their Buick, fighting gravity and the North Saskatchewan River.