Page 2 of Christmas for Keeps
Right, and all the ice on this road is about to miraculously disappear.“Highly doubtful. I’ve given up hope.”
“That’s exactly when a man comes along. Take care, Connor. Love you.”
I turned the radio on, hoping some holiday music would make me feel better. Mariah Carey led the way but failed to lift my glum mood. What the hell would I do for the next seven days? I was no good at going out on my own. If I didn’t force myself to leave the room, I might spend the entire week holed up, ordering room service, and watching reruns on TV.
Shit, I am fucked in so many ways.Money would be a major problem. As a teacher, I didn’t make much, and Abby and I together could barely afford a week at a fancy resort. Without her covering half the costs, I’d need to max out my credit card to pay the hotel bill. I’d be lucky to afford fast food, let alone room service. Tears welled in my eyes, and I furiously wiped them away.Damn my luck!Feeling worse than ever, I changed the radio station. Now I was offered a different selection of upbeat music, and I scowled while someone rocked around a Christmas tree.
Two perky carols later, a weather bulletin reminded us we were in whiteout conditions. Then came the big news: the Vermont State Police were closing the roads, and the announcer urged everyone to find shelter immediately and ride out the storm. The music returned, mercifully more subdued, and I wondered what would happen if I got stranded out here.
Maybe a gorgeous man would come along. He’d have a dog with a flask of brandy around its neck, and my knight in shining armor would carry me away to safety. We’d have an instant connection that would grow by the day until inevitably…
Get real. I already had my chance at that, and life blew it to hell.
Right on cue, someone sang about making a wish, and I wondered if it was too late to write a letter to Santa. Probably, but if I searched the web, maybe I could find an email address.
While I planned my message to the North Pole, traffic started moving, and I took my foot off the brake. The taillights of the ginormous SUV glowed brightly, giving me something to follow. They’d been there since Waterbury, and though the tank was frustrating, I’d have probably driven off the road several times without its lights to guide me. The line of vehicles moved a few feet at a time, the sluggish progress frequently interrupted by stops lasting many minutes.
For the hundredth time, I wished I’d left home earlier. I’d been in no hurry because the Weather Channel predicted the storm would turn north over Canada, with New England only getting a few inches. The snow had barely been a flurry when I left Boston but grew heavier as I drove up the highway into New Hampshire. By the time I crossed into Vermont, NPR said the storm hadn’t gone north as expected and was unleashing its full fury on northern New England.
Traffic on the interstate had slowed to a crawl in the heavy snow, and things were much worse once I exited I-89 onto Route 100, a two-lane road over hilly terrain. Ordinarily, it would have taken another half hour to get to Stowe, but a wall of white descended as soon as I joined another long line of cars. That had been more than two hours ago.
We came to another standstill, and someone behind me honked. “Please!” I implored the universe, squeezing the steering wheel like I was wringing its neck. “Let’s move already.”
As if by magic, the Land Cruiser eased forward, so I lifted my foot from the brake pedal so my Mazda could creep along. After several minutes of slow, steady progress, I relaxed a bit. Then we started downhill, and my heart gave a kick.Damn mountains! Why couldn’t the road be flat?I shifted into low gear and hoped it would regulate my speed enough that I wouldn’t have to brake much.
It worked… until it didn’t. Without warning, the rear end fishtailed. I hit the brake too hard, sending the car into a spin. As we’d been taught back in driver’s ed, I turned the wheel into the spin, hoping to regain control so I could pull to the side of the road. Miraculously, the car straightened out, so I gingerly tapped the brake.
Fuck me!I went into a skid, and everything shifted into slow motion.
The seat belt locked, yanking me against the seatback as my car smashed into the SUV. My airbag deployed, and I felt like I’d been slammed by the biggest stuffed animal in the world. The engine died, and with it the radio. An eerie silence set in.
Oh God, this will hurt!I clenched my eyes shut, waiting for the pain to hit. When it didn’t, I gradually realized I was okay.
Stop being such a drama queen and figure out what you’re going to do.
Dust filled the air, along with an acrid smell that irritated my nostrils. I needed to get out of the car but trying to unbuckle my seat belt was an exercise in frustration. On the first try, my hand was shaking too hard to grasp anything, and the second time, the lock wouldn’t release.
In front of me, the driver’s door of the SUV opened, and a tall man got out and looked around. Pulling up the hood of his parka, he headed in my direction. After pausing to inspect the rear of his vehicle and the front of mine, he walked to my door and rapped on the frosty window. “Are you all right?”
Still addled from the accident, I answered brilliantly. “Huh?”
“Everything okay?” he called out. “Do I need to get a crowbar to open the door?”
“No, wait.” I pushed the button, but the window didn’t budge. Raising my voice so he could hear me, I said, “I’m fine, but I can’t get my seat belt unbuckled.”
“Let me try.”
I unlocked the door, and he opened it and leaned inside. The movement pulled his hood back off his head, making me gasp.It can’t be! Maybe I was hurt in the accident, after all.As hard as it was to believe, his leather and sandalwood cologne removed all doubt. “Zach?”
He turned his head, his eyes going wide. “Connor?”
“Oh my God! Zach, it’s really you. What are you doing out in this mess?”
“I could ask you the same thing. Here, let me—”
“Anyone injured?” Someone had walked up from behind, and he spoke with a distinct Vermont accent.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Zach asked me. “Should we call for help?”