A Starling's Redemption

Cold Ditch, Warm Hearth

We were sixteen when my life changed so dramatically. It was Friday afternoon, the beginning of spring break. It was far and away the scariest day of my life, and also the most humiliating. School was dismissed at noon that day. Josh had taken the day off of work, so he could run a few errands before going home. He lived about two-thirds of the way up a hill, a few short miles from town.

Once he arrived home, he rekindled the fire in the wood stove. He loaded a few items in the back of his pickup, preparing to check on his elderly neighbors – that's Mrs. Richardson, and the Schwartzes. It was foggy, raining, and maybe five degrees above freezing, so he was a bit surprised to see Dick Ryndon's German sports sedan racing down the hill past his home. He wondered what evidence Dick had dumped farther out his road. He loaded a few more items, and headed over the hill to visit his neighbors.

He'd only gone about a quarter of a mile when he saw me stumbling along the shoulder of the road. I was completely soaked. The left side of my hair and face, much of my left side, and both of my hands were coated in mud. I had my arms clenched tightly against my torso, and my head down. He slammed on the brakes, shifted into reverse, and backed up to where I was. My eyes were vacant, staring blankly ahead, and I didn't acknowledge him. He knew immediately that I was suffering from hypothermia, and if he didn't act quickly, I wouldn't survive.

He opened the passenger door of his pick-up, and made me get in. When he returned to the driver's seat, he cranked up the heat. I began shivering violently, which he took as a good sign. Not shivering would have meant my body was starting to shut down, and he would have driven me straight to the emergency room.

He turned around, and drove me to his home. He left me in his truck with the heat cranked up while he prepared his family room. He stoked the wood stove because he wanted the house to be warm. He spread out a blanket over a chair, which he'd positioned facing the wood stove. When all was ready, he got me out of his pick-up and walked me into the family room.

All I was wearing was light-gray, one-piece pajamas, and my sneakers. The pajamas were like a little kid's, with long sleeves and full-length legs. It had elastic cuffs at the wrists and ankles. It had a zipper on the front, zipped up to my neck. It was quite thin, and I was not wearing anything under it.

As soon as we were in the door, he removed my muddy shoes. He led me into his family room, and sat me down in the chair he'd prepared. He draped the blanket over my shoulders. He also wrapped a towel around my feet.

After a few minutes, I started coming around. I was disoriented at first, and I didn't recognize my surroundings. As my mind came back into focus, I realized I was in a strange home.

I saw Joshua Whitaker sitting on the couch, so I assumed I was in his home. I didn't want him to know I was still feeling somewhat disoriented, and I certainly didn't want to show any fear, so I tried to play tough. My voice was somewhat hoarse, and I was still shivering.

"You! What am I doing here? How did I even get here?"

He asked, "How are your eyes? Is your vision clear?"

I replied, "Yes, they're clear. So what am I doing in your house?" He crouched in front of me and held up one finger.

"Follow my finger with your eyes. Try not to move your head." As I did, he told me how he'd found me, and the condition I was in.

He added, "If I hadn't stopped to help you, you'd be dead in the ditch, halfway to town." He asked me what I remembered, but I decided it was my turn to be evasive.

He said, "Amanda, it's important for evaluating your condition. I need to know what you remember."

"I was walking along the road, freezing. Then I was here, in your house."