'Almost Heaven' by Jo Goren

 

The baby never stopped crying, and I didn’t feel suited to being a mother or a wife to the man I married far too young. The same man who forgot to bank the fire the previous night. Frigid air woke me along with a whiff of Eau de West Virginia, mold and mildew. Splitting wood to get the Warm Morning stove going, I took off the tip of my finger with the hand axe. No need to wake the baby or his father. I could handle the drive of three miles on dirt road and ten more on potholed pavement to Calhoun General where three months earlier, the baby arrived. Besides I didn’t want to be criticized for what I call an accident and someone else would call careless. I worked my feet into boots and stepped outside where the crisp winter air matched the chill inside the cabin. As always, the keys hung in the truck’s ignition, but I rolled down the hilly drive before I turned the engine over. On the way to the hospital, a towel wrapped tight around my hand, I decided to keep driving.