The Olsen Family always planned their annual reunion for the end of February. It gave the family something to look forward to through the long, bitter days of winter. Springing from Clinton, Iowa, it was there that the reunion took place. The First United Methodist Church of Clinton had seen many generations of Olsens over the years. And though the family had spread around the country, about half still lived within easy driving distance of Clinton.
Ernie and Ethel Olsen, the patriarch and matriarch of the clan, had passed within the last ten years, but the family tradition of a late-winter reunion was a strong one. Everyone looked forward to it, and most would attend.
Cain Wilson’s wife, Carolyn, was Ernie and Ethel's oldest granddaughter. She had babysat her cousins when they were young, and now they were the ones with children growing up and leaving the nest.
Cain and Carolyn drove two hours from Waterloo for the reunion. They had been married for almost twenty-five years, and Cain had enjoyed watching his wife's younger cousins grow up and have families of their own. This was often the only time they saw his wife's family.
He had especially enjoyed watching his wife's cousin Sheri grow up. She had been pretty, sweet, and popular in high school. She had always seemed confident. But Sheri had called Carolyn several times a month for parenting advice when her kids were younger. Her calls had made his wife feel needed and a vital part of the family. It made Cain happy, since his wife's self-esteem could use any boost that it could get.
His wife's cousins, though not glamorous, were a good-looking family. Carolyn’s cousin Sheri had been adorable twenty years ago and had married a handsome man. Now, her seventeen-year-old daughter Ellie was looking to be a real heart-breaker.
Uncle Paul led the family. He was a deacon in the church where they held the reunion. He always reserved the fellowship hall for the meal, and the church grounds for various games and activities should weather permit. Uncle Paul was Sheri and her brother, Will’s stepfather. Will was the clown of the family, and his kids were following suit.
Will's wife, Brenda, had been a knockout twenty years ago. Now she looked like she spent twenty hours a week in the gym holding onto her youth. She was too thin for Cain’s taste, but still a beauty. Brenda appeared to be a warm and open person, but Cain sensed sadness inside. She and her husband had some trouble in their marriage a few years ago, but he didn't know the details. They were back together and seemed happy.
Uncle Paul's wife was Cain's mother-in-law's sister, Aunt Rachel. Twenty-five years ago, she had still been attractive enough to catch Cain's eye at the reunions and Sunday dinners. Not as old as his mother, she had been slender and pretty. Now, age had caught up with her, and she was putting on weight. She no longer caught his eye in quite the same way.
The weather forecast this year was not promising for outdoor activities. The news was full of talk of a late-winter blizzard. Cain was doubtful, but had come prepared. He had an overnight bag, sleeping bags, extra water, candles, and a portable heater. His wife had packed with caution as well. He may have overloaded the car, but they were ready.
Aunt Rachel scheduled dinner to begin at 2:00, and people started arriving before 1:00. Uncle Paul and Aunt Rachel had been there since 9:00 that morning, getting things ready. Almost everyone had arrived by 1:30, and snow started falling at 1:45.
It was late in a long, cold winter, and the snow excited nobody. Not even the kids were excited. Uncle Paul salted the sidewalks and had the snow shovel ready for when it was time to leave.
The Olsens were talented cooks and always made tons of food. There were traditional family dishes and some newer, experimental ones. As the meal wound to a close, Uncle Paul brought out the family punch bowl. He set it on a table in the center of the seating area, and everyone got quiet. Every year they had a glass of punch (non-alcoholic), their traditional family recipe, in memory of the family members who were no longer with them. It started solemnly, but as people told stories and shared memories, they smiled more. Everyone took at least one glass of punch; most had several.
As the afternoon wore on, everyone resigned themselves to spending the night. Some had sleeping bags; others had cots or air mattresses. They talked long into the night. The little kids grew tired and settled down. The most talkative adults eventually wound down and wandered to their sleeping areas. Cain and his wife started with an air mattress but gave it to an older cousin who had come without.
Cain never slept well away from home, regardless. He gave his sleeping bag to his wife for an extra cushion and settled in an armchair with his feet on a table.
Midway through the night, Cain woke with a start. His head ached, and his mouth was dry. He put his jacket on, picked up a water bottle, and checked the building. He tiptoed through the mass of sleeping family members and made his way into the hallway outside the fellowship hall. It was cool and dry without all the sleeping bodies.
He watched the falling snow through the glass doors, sipping water. His head pounded, whether from dehydration or sleep deprivation, he didn't know. Reasoning that it might help him sleep, he took a sip from the flask of Irish whiskey in his pocket.
It was still snowing, and the wind howled.
We might be here for several days. Hope the food holds out, Cain thought. Maybe the grocery will be open. It's only a block away. We could hike there for supplies.
Noise from the floor above startled him. There were Sunday School classrooms up there, but nothing else. He walked to the stairs. There was no light and no movement. Cain climbed the stairs, his soft-soled walking shoes making little noise. He peeked into a classroom - a kind of balcony that overlooked the hall where everyone was sleeping. A glass partition separated it from the room below, as much for safety as noise control.
In the light cast by the exit signs, he could see his wife's young cousin, Ellie, lying on the couch. She was trying to keep warm wrapped in just her denim jacket. She either felt his gaze or heard some noise because she looked up in alarm. When she recognized him, she gave a smile and a wave.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi. Not sleeping with the others?"
"No."
Braces filled her shy smile.
"I'm tired of my sister."
He nodded. Ellie and her twelve-year-old sister had been bickering earlier.
"Aren't you cold up here?"
"Yeah. Still better than being down there."
"I agree. May I join you?"
He gestured to the chair beside the couch.
She shrugged, and he nodded.
Cain settled, putting his head back. He woke sometime later, and it was much colder. The emergency lights on the exit signs had lit.
The power had gone out. Cain stood to check on the people below, and everything seemed to be okay. Several propane heaters were still going strong. They might not have even noticed.
