“He’s not going to come at all if you don’t keep quiet,” Shelby yelled, regretting it as soon as the words left her lips. It wasn’t the kids’ fault.
No, it was their dad’s. He was supposed to bring them home after spending the day with them. Shelby was going to have a relaxing day home alone, wrapping presents and getting everything set up for Christmas morning. But Nelson had called, telling her he couldn’t bring the kids home. He’d had a little too much celebratory drink. Of course. She shouldn’t have expected anything different. His drinking had been what drove them into divorce court in the first place, and here they were three years later, and it was still her burden to deal with. She was furious and let him know it on the phone. It wasn’t fair. Of course he treated her like she was overreacting. That was always his response, that she got too worked up about things that were no big deal.
But this was a big deal. He was supposed to bring the kids home, and now she had to go out in a storm to retrieve them. He suggested they just spend the night, that she shouldn’t go out with the weather this rotten. But Shelby damn well wasn’t going to let him enjoy waking up on Christmas morning with the kids. That was her right; she’d made sure it was written into the divorce decree. And she wasn’t going to let this storm stop her.
And now she felt like crying, because she was in a big mess and she didn’t know what to do. It didn’t look good for getting home in time for Christmas morning and she could feel the tears building up behind her eyes, ready to unleash. But she couldn’t let the kids see her cry. She had to be strong. So she turned the despair into the rage she felt toward Nelson for causing her to be in this mess. She gripped the wheel even tighter.
This had a chance to be worse than the last Christmas she spent with Nelson. That was when his drinking really pushed her to the limits. Macey had been having horrible sneezing and sinus problems. About a week before Christmas, the doctor determined it was caused by severe allergies, specifically pine trees. Shelby realized their Christmas tree had to go, but Nelson argued against it. Another six days he had said – Macey could last. But Shelby couldn’t stand her daughter’s red eyes, stuffy nose and headaches. Shelby was removing the decorations from the tree one night when Nelson came home from one of his drinking bouts with his poker-playing buddies in the neighborhood.
“What the hell are you doing?” he had yelled at her as she laid out the ornaments on the coffee table. She explained to him exactly what she was doing and why. Macey was upstairs and too congested to even come down to the living room.
“Stupid!” Nelson yelled. “Six more fucking days!”
“Don’t yell, she can hear you.” But Shelby knew once he was in this condition, anything she said would only aggravate him more.
“Why the hell bother taking the decorations off?” Nelson yelled. “Just throw the damn thing outside just like it is.”
“My mother has an artificial tree she’s going to bring over tomorrow. I’ll just redecorate it then.”
“Hell no! If I can’t have a real tree, I don’t want no fucking tree at all.”
He pushed her aside and grabbed onto the trunk of the tree, lifting it off the floor, water from its stand spilling over the carpet, needles dropping everywhere, a bulb clattering to the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting rid of the tree,” he yelled, carrying it toward the front door. “Just like you wanted.” He opened the door and heaved the tree outside, ornaments and all.
He glared at his wife, as if proud of what he’d accomplished. “Problem solved,” he said before slamming the door shut, a smile on his face.
The memory of that day made Shelby shiver.
She kept both the front and back windshield wipers going so she could see some of the highway. Behind her was a large vehicle, she couldn’t tell what, maybe a box truck or something. Ahead of her was a hatchback, nearly half-buried in the snow that was piled up to its bumper. She saw shadows moving around in the back seat of the car and wondered what its occupants were doing.
Chapter Seven
Kirk Britton and Sonya Tackett snuggled beneath the wool blanket, waiting for rescue. Her body next to his warmed his heart as well as his flesh. The engine was running and he kept the lights on so emergency personnel could see their car when they came. When they eventually came. Of course they would come, Kirk thought. Someone had to check the roads even though it was Christmas Eve. People were still working. Maybe the snowplow guy had walked out to get help. He must have gone somewhere.
That thought made Kirk think again about the snowshoes in the hatch compartment. It was still worth a shot to hike out of here and find safety. If help didn’t come, they couldn’t stay here all night, especially if they ran out of gas. Then the cold would set in and they’d have no choice but to go.
This wasn’t the Christmas he had planned. It was supposed to be really special. He wanted to make it memorable. It certainly was going to be now. He laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Sonya asked.
He looked into her eyes, which seemed less frightened and more frustrated.
“Just thinking how crazy this all is,” he said.
“More like a nightmare.” She frowned.
He needed to keep her spirits up. He thought about what he had in his luggage, the whole reason they’d had to delay their trip to her parents’. Kirk had wanted to wait until Christmas morning, but maybe now would be a better time. He shifted in his seat.
“What are you doing?” Sonya asked, as he pulled the blanket off him.
“I need to get something out of my bag,” he said, turning and leaning over the seat into the hatchback compartment.
“What is it? Get back under the covers with me.”
He shoved the snowshoes to one side. “It’s a present.”
“A present? For me?” Her tone spiked. “But we promised we weren’t going to buy gifts this year, not until after we graduated and started our jobs.”
“I know,” he said, unzipping his bag and reaching his hand in, rummaging around pants, shirts and socks till he found the box. He smiled as he pulled it out, not bothering to zip the bag back up. He sat back down beside her with the box in his hand. It was small and wrapped in shiny red foil paper with a white bow on top.
Even in the dimness of the car, only lit by the dashboard lights, he could see her brown eyes widen. Her mouth started to open, but then her lips came back together and spread in a smile.
“Go ahead,” he said, holding out the box.
She took it delicately in her long thin fingers, which were shaking, if not from the cold, then from anticipation. She swallowed and then glanced into his eyes.
“Open it,” he said, impatient. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake giving this to her now. But it felt like the timing couldn’t be more perfect. Instead of sitting around the Christmas tree with her parents and younger brothers, it was just the two of them here on a cold lonely snowbound highway with the wind howling outside and the snow pelting against the windows. It was kind of romantic when he thought about it.
With delicate fingers, she pulled one end of the white ribbon and it unwound. She eased a finger under one flap of the wrapping paper, popping out the tape and carefully unfolding the wrap so as not to tear it, as if she wanted to keep the paper intact to savor and cherish it. She set the paper down and held a white cardboard box in her hand.
It seemed like her breathing stopped. She looked into his eyes and carefully pulled off the top half of the box, gazing inside at the smaller felt jewelry box inside. She took it out, holding it in her left hand while lifting the top with her right.
The diamond inside caught the light and reflected off the irises of her moist eyes. Her lips spread wide, showing shiny teeth as her mouth dropped open. A tear slipped from one corner of her left eye and a small gasp squeaked out of her throat. A shaking right hand brought her fin
gers to her lips.
“Oh,” was all she managed to utter.
Kirk felt a sense of relief now the initial reaction had passed, but he still needed to hear it.
“Well?”
She looked at him, still smiling and holding the box in the palm of her hand. He realized she was waiting for him, and he felt a bit foolish for not understanding she needed to hear the words.
“Will you marry me?”
She squealed and threw her arms around him, almost knocking him back on the seat. She gripped him tight, squeezing the breath out of him. When she finally released him and leaned back, tears were flowing down her red cheeks.
“Yes!” she said. “Of course, yes.”
They hugged and he once again felt the warmth of her body.
“I was going to wait until tomorrow morning,” he said, “but this seems more appropriate.”
“I’m glad you didn’t wait.” She beamed. “Now put it on me.”
Kirk took the box from her and took the ring out, careful not to drop it. Sonya held out her left hand, fingers splayed and trembling. He held her hand to steady it and carefully slid the ring on, holding his breath, hoping he had gotten the ring sized right. It fit into place.
She held the hand up before her, admiring it.
“Oh, Kirk,” she said. “I can’t believe this.”
“Well, we’ve talked about it for a year now.”
Sonya giggled. “I know. But still, I figured after graduation at least. Once we started working and saved some money.”
“I didn’t want to wait,” he said. He had originally thought about proposing to her on campus, had even conceived a grand plan of taking her for a ride on the Zamboni at the end of the tournament and asking her in the middle of the hockey rink. But then he decided to wait for Christmas, at her family home. Now this had turned out even better. What a story it would make when they reflected back.
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him toward her, her lips locking on his, her tongue finding his. She kissed him long, until he could barely breathe, and when she released her mouth from his, her eyes glittered just like the diamond.
Her lips spread in a delicious smile.
“Now I have something to give you.”
“You got me something?” He didn’t realize what she meant.
She laughed. “No.” She pulled off her sweater.
He was surprised and looked around the car, seeing the snow caked over all the windows, blocking any view. “Here?” he said, gazing down on her full breasts in her black brassiere that rose with the excitement of her breaths.
She didn’t say a word, just nodded as she reached around behind her and unhooked her bra.
Kirk began pulling off his own shirt, pausing long enough to gaze at her beautiful breasts. He reached out, pulling her to him and locking his lips on to hers, darting his tongue into her mouth, feeling hers swirl around his. He reached his right hand up to feel the softness of her breast. He leaned back, pulling her down on top of him onto the seat. Her hands reached down and began fumbling at his pants button and zipper.
There wasn’t a lot of room in the small back seat of the hatchback, and they nearly bumped heads as they tried removing each other’s jeans. They laughed, briefly, and then brought their lips back together. He had managed to kick his boots off and was now naked except for his wool socks. Somehow on this cold blustery night, he felt he should keep his socks on, even though the inside of the car was warm. Or was that the passion burning inside him?
She sat up on him, and he stared at her beautiful naked form. God, he felt so lucky to have her. She reached down and guided him inside her and he felt the most warmth he had all this cold, cold night. Sonya ground her hips back and forth and he joined in her rhythm, using his hands on her flanks to guide her motion.
He savored the thought that this was the woman he was going to be making love to for the rest of his life.
Chapter Eight
Dean Hagen felt cramped and hot in his rental coupe. He now sat shirtless behind the wheel, having discarded his vest, tie and shirt. With the window cranked three-quarters of the way down, the icy snow pelted his flesh, but still it wasn’t enough to cool him down. With the engine off, the only sound was the wind whipping the snow around the contours of his vehicle.
Why hasn’t anyone come? he wondered. It was a mistake to come back home this time of the year. Everything got screwed up at Christmastime. His old man had to go and slip on the ice and fracture his hip. His flight out of Alaska had been diverted to Newark and the extra long drive in this crappy car burned up most of the gas.
Dean had shut it off to conserve fuel, but also because it had been so damn hot in the car, even with the heat off. How was that possible? He should be freezing. It was a damn blizzard out there.
He leaned his face out the window, feeling the prickly snow and biting wind till his cheeks were numb. That was better, he thought, pulling his head back inside. He kicked his shoes off, straining to reach down and remove his socks. They got stuck when he tried to ease them over his heel and he bent farther, his chest up against the steering wheel. He finally got them off, pressing into the horn and sounding it with a loud beep.
Dean leaned back and laughed.
Nobody’s going to hear that anyway. He pressed onto the horn and gave it a long blast.
“Anyone coming?” he yelled out the open window. “We need help here!” He chuckled. No. No help here. Nobody coming. If it wasn’t so damn hot, I’d freeze my nuts off.
That’s when he thought about removing his pants.
Chapter Nine
In the SUV, sideways on the turnpike a short distance behind the snowplow, Mason Drake was tired of arguing with his wife, Joy. The relentless bickering didn’t help their situation one bit. But she insisted on reminding him that she’d told him not to try and pass the tractor-trailer, that the roads weren’t safe. But dammit, that’s why he had a four-wheel-drive vehicle, so he could maneuver in these kinds of winter conditions and pass all the idiots going too slow. But even he knew he shouldn’t have pushed it. But hell if he’d tell Joy that.
They’d only had one more exit to go, another couple miles and they would be off this blasted highway. The trucker was going too damn slow. He should have figured the guy was experienced and knew what he was doing, but the truck’s license plate read North Carolina, and Mason figured he knew better than some southerner how to drive on New England roads in the winter. Plus, Mason was desperate to get off this damn highway before the storm got much worse. Around the trucker and one more exit. Just one more damn exit.
Mason thought they had enough time to beat the storm home, but it struck quicker than expected. The two of them should have left the city earlier. If only he hadn’t insisted on a few drinks after work with some of the guys. And of course he’d convinced Joy and some of her office gals to join them. A celebratory Christmas Eve drink before heading home. The storm had just been a flurry of flakes then. He’d assured Joy they would have time to have a few quick drinks and then hit the road.
But then Mason had gotten the text message from their sixteen-year-old son, Duncan. Higgins Department store had gotten in a new shipment of the video game he desperately wanted for Christmas, Space Marines IV: The Ice Planet. It was the hottest game going and most places had been sold out. He knew how much his son freaked out over the game and hated to disappoint him. Duncan had broken his leg during a ski team meet, and was going to be spending Christmas vacation sitting in a chair with a cast all the way up to his knee. This one particular gift would make the boy happy. Higgins was staying open till six tonight, and they could make it in time. It took some convincing for Joy to agree.
“The storm’s getting worse, Mason,” she had cautioned when they left the downtown bar.
“I’ll just run in, grab it, and run out. You can keep the engine running.” H
e motioned to the snow falling on them. “This is nothing. It’s not going to get worse until much later tonight.”
How wrong he turned out to be, but Joy reluctantly relented.
Of course, it took much longer at Higgins than he’d expected. Getting the game was no problem. The store had plenty when he went to the electronics department, and he felt a rush of relief once he finally held it in his hands. Just holding the box gave him some of the excitement Duncan was going to experience.
Joy had come into the store with him, not trusting that he wouldn’t dally. But now that he had bought an extra gift for the boy, she realized they needed to get another one for their daughter, Daria.
“It’s only fair,” Joy reasoned.
She never got as much as her younger brother, because boys’ things just seemed more expensive than her gifts. The Drakes ended up at the jewelry counter, where Joy picked out a snowflake pendant.
“After this storm, no one’s going to want to look at snowflakes,” Mason said, and then wished he had just kept his mouth shut, because it made Joy start to rethink her decision and he realized they were wasting more time.
After some contemplation and looking at several other necklaces and bracelets, Joy finally decided on the snowflake pendant. By the time they got to the checkout, the lines were long. And of course Joy insisted the items be gift-wrapped, so they wouldn’t have to worry about it when they got home. That took more time, and they finally left the store just before closing time. But what should have been a forty-five-minute ride home had now turned into a nearly three-hour ordeal.
And they had only one exit to go.
Mason’s salt-and-pepper beard was spotted with wet drops from the melted snow after his latest excursion outside the SUV. He had used his briefcase to clear the snow out from his exhaust pipe. The trucker cautioned them about it after their investigation of the snowplow.
That incident still perplexed Mason. What had happened to the damn snowplow driver? He must have walked out, probably to the next exit – the one Mason needed to take. Maybe they could walk out too? He looked at Joy. She wore a thin sweater dress under a light blazer and leather boots that went up over her calves. Not exactly snow-hiking attire. He himself wore a sports jacket under his wool coat. A little better, but still not suited to these extreme conditions.
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