The Sky’s the Limit: My Journey with Maryellen

I tell Maryellen I’d rather skate with her. We find skates that fit us both, then clear a patch of ice with a shovel and broom. Holding hands, we skate in circles, ducking under a pine bough and staying clear of the pond’s thin middle ice. The only sounds are the scratch, scratch of our skates and the whoosh of wind through the pines.

Maryellen says it’s easy to imagine we’re in the Ice Capades, until Beverly’s indignant voice breaks the silence, accusing us of sneaking off. She’s not alone: Tom and Mikey are with her, bundled up so they’re all the same height. Maryellen scolds them for coming out alone, but Beverly says they just followed our boot prints, wanting to skate, too.

Maryellen says no, the skating is just for us, but Beverly argues she can’t hog it or me. Maryellen sighs and gives in. There aren’t enough skates for everyone anyway, so the boys stay in their boots. The two little boys wobble onto the ice while Maryellen and I head to the shed. She unlaces her skates, hands them to Beverly, and I’m still taking mine off when we hear a terrifying howl.

I rush out of the shed, rigid with fear. Mikey has fallen through the ice, and Tom is wailing. Maryellen and I slip and slide across the ice in our boots, careful not to get too close ourselves. I pull Tom back to the thicker ice, where Beverly leads him to the bank, then turn to see Maryellen lying on her stomach, reaching for Mikey. I lie behind her and grab her feet so she won’t fall in, too.

Maryellen coaxes Mikey to reach for her, grabs his hands, and hauls him out by hooking her arms under his. Breathless, we carry him to the edge of the pond, soaked through and shivering with cold.

Maryellen says we need to get Mikey to the cabin fast, and tells me to fetch the canvas sack from the shed so we can take turns carrying him, heavy now with water. In the shed, I spot the skis and boots and know what to do. Maryellen saved Mikey from the ice, now I need to save him from hypothermia.

I put on the boots and skis, grab poles, and tie the sack around me like a sling, then tell Maryellen to put Mikey in it so I can ski him to the cabin. She’s surprised. I admit I don’t know how to ski, but she’ll have to trust me for now. Once Mikey’s in the sling, I nearly tip over from his weight, but find my balance and shove off.

The boots are too big and stiff, and the skis, made for downhill rather than cross-country, are clunky to maneuver. But I’m determined. Maryellen, Beverly, and Tom trot behind but can’t keep up, and soon I’m alone, following our footprint trail through the snow, thinking only of getting Mikey warm.

Soon I’m too out of breath to think, focused only on skiing without falling. The trail twists downhill until, at last, I see smoke rising from the cabin’s chimney.

Later, we all sit around the fire after Thanksgiving dinner, warm and full, Mikey dozing against me. Maryellen says she’s most grateful for me, for helping save his life. Grandmom slips an arm around my shoulder, and Mr. Larkin declares Ellie an outstanding sister and me an outstanding friend, deserving to be an honorary Larkin.

A chorus of “Ayes” agrees. I feel proud to be an honorary Larkin, and it makes me wonder, if Emma and I made an effort to include Gran, would she feel more like a real part of our family? When I go home, I mean to find out.