We are all at the mercy of Mother Nature. Indigenous cultures celebrate that fact, and historically set aside times and ceremonies to honor the power of natural forces in our human existence. No matter how much we think we are in control of our choices and our lives, Mother Nature may exert a force beyond our meager limitations. As a baseball fanatic, I’ve always enjoyed the phrase, “Mother Nature bats last.”  It is a reminder that we are guests here and need to respect our hostess. She has a resilience that we can never match. This short story is akin to an actual situation I knew of in 1980. The names are changed and events slightly altered, so I can call it fiction.

Sunday, May 18, 1980, a lovely, blue sky day in southwest Washington State. Three days prior, Prescott and Mira rendezvoused in Olympia from their homes near Seattle, then drove together in Pres’s 1979 Firebird; their destination was Long Beach on the Washington coast. Prescott was supposed to be on a fishing trip with old college friends in Eastern Washington. Mira told her husband she was attending a writers’ retreat in Vancouver, Canada. Their affair started a year earlier, and this was the meeting where they would decide what and how to tell their spouses.

They talked over the impact of the affair on their lives and that of their families. Pres had a three-year-old daughter whom he loved dearly. He loved his wife, but that love changed when he met Mira.

Mira loved her husband, but her commitment to him was forever altered when she and Pres met by chance at an organizational meeting for a new food bank, Second Harvest. Her passion for him overwhelmed her love for Mark.

For a year, they met clandestinely, a few hours at a time. They never spent a night together, or even an entire day. They were drawn to each other, an intangible force that neither could resist. It was a recognition that they were connected in a different way than their marriages. They talked and finished each other’s thoughts. Lovemaking was more fulfilling than any they had in marriage. An overpowering passion consumed them. They both acknowledged love for their spouses and were reluctant to confront them with the affair.

During the three days together, they realized that they couldn’t end their marriages; so, had to end the affair, a heart-wrenching decision.

A heavy gloom settled over them as they drove toward Seattle. They couldn’t look at each other; their throats were too dry to speak. They had just reached the intersection with I-5 that would take them to Seattle.

“Let’s stop for coffee,” Pres suggested.

“Nothing will change. We can’t delay the inevitable,” Mira said softly.

BOOM! The sound, a supersonic blast, rocked the car and sent it careening toward the center lane of northbound I-5. The air shimmied. Compressed air stifled sound on the highway like a blanket suddenly thrown over the scene. Ash and smoke enveloped the car. Pres pulled to the right side of the highway. Rocks pelted the Firebird from above, as in judgment.

“What’s going on? What’s that sound, Pres? Are we being attacked?”

The radio blared an alert that I-5, north and south, was closed. Mount Saint Helens finally erupted after months of threatening earthquakes. The Toutle River, carrying tons of debris, whole forests of tree trunks, and a tidal wave of water, raged down the mountainside, obliterating the highway.

Prescott pulled the car off on the right shoulder. Fire could be seen in the distance on the mountainside, and a plume of thick smoke rose miles into the morning sky. The sun was obscured, turning the blue heavens to black night. Other cars pulled off the road or turned to head south, moving slowly in dense darkness. Headlights were barely discernible. Cars, choked by the thick air, stalled out on both sides of the road.

Pres looked at Mira. “It blew. We’re screwed,” he said. “We have to go farther south to get out of this mess.” Stunned, he slowly pulled back on what he thought was the highway, avoiding other vehicles. Nothing was clear. This was not in the plan.

A few minutes later, the Firebird’s engine sputtered and died. Mira and Pres huddled inside the car, not wanting to get out in the thick, toxic atmosphere.

“What next?” Prescott ran his fingers through his hair.

“Maybe they’ll find our bodies buried in ash, like Vesuvius.” Desolation crept into Mira’s voice.  “We won’t have to say a thing. It will be obvious. If we get out of here, we’ll have to fess up.”

Pres pulled Mira close. “Maybe that’s the message from the mountain. We can’t escape the truth anymore.”

An hour later, a rescue van from the National Guard drove up. The Guard picked up stranded motorists to take them to the Mark Morris High School gymnasium in Longview. The air smelled vaguely of sulfur. Was it hell? The ash-covered Firebird looked like a relic from a dark past; barely recognizable, a remnant of their guilt. Leaving everything behind, they got into the van.

Families and campers from near and far were packed into the gym.  Warnings issued by scientists and local broadcasts as early as March that an eruption was imminent hadn’t kept the curious away. Everyone wanted to see what an active volcano looked like before it blew. The mountain dictated on its own terms, in its own time, when it would unleash its fury. 

Warnings had not been a thought when Pres and Mira decided to meet for a long weekend. They weren’t going near the mountain. They went to the beach. They hadn’t taken into consideration that they would pass by Mt. Saint Helens on their way. All threats of an active volcano had been mere background noise to them. Their personal volcano was all they could think about. Would they blow up their families or stay the course, putting aside the love they had for each other?

They were deeply immersed in plans for a future together, but finally resolved to recommit to their marriages. They were on the way home, determined to reconnect with their spouses, but the mountain had other plans for them. A reckoning. Unexpected consequences. The mountain blew away their secrets, turning their marriages to ash. The future was undeniably altered.

There was a line of people using the phone to call loved ones. Mira and Pres waited for their turns. What to say? How to say it? Now the reality of their love would become evident.

I leave it to you, dear reader: Were they able to save their marriages, now that their affair was revealed? Did this event seal their future together?