The Dead of Winter (Seasons of Jefferson: Book 2)

by Julie Solano

  “What!?!” She throws up her hands and looks me up and down. “What’re you laughing at? I don’t see the humor in this.”

  I watch her curly hair bob back and forth as she inspects my dad’s truck resting over the top of her trailer. She looks up at Brody, “I think it’s fine, but I can’t see under that clunky heap.”

  He nods his head up and down, “K.”

  I watch her eyebrows travel up her forehead. “Well, what are you waiting for? Move it!”

  “Hhhow?” Brody stutters.

  “It’s not rocket science. Your truck is still running. Put the dang thing in reverse, and MOVE it! I need to see what you did to my trailer.”

  I’m still laughing at the nearly lifeless statue of Brody getting popped by this pint-sized firecracker. My mouth drops, when I watch her thrust her shoulder into Brody’s chest as she streaks by, jumps into the truck, and backs it away.

  We’re looking at each other in disbelief when the hissing ground flower spins her way back to her trailer. She looks back over her shoulder and yells, “I guess if you want to get anything done around here, you have to do it yourself.” She shakes her head, inspecting the corner of her trailer. “You’re lucky it didn’t do anything. I guess I can’t expect city slickers to know how to drive in the snow. So where did you get your driver’s license anyway, a Cracker Jack box?”

  City slickers? Ouch. What gives? This is HER fault. “Hold on there, Tangles. Go easy on my friend. You’re the one who wasn’t watching where you were going. You cut us off!”

  “Lame excuse for crappy driving, dude. You know what? You’re wasting my time. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m tired of burning daylight.” Just like that, the tangly ball of sass turns her back to us and grabs her helmet off the trailer. Pulling it over her head, I hear her call, “Jessie May, you chicken. Get out of that truck and help me! Let’s go!”

  The door opens slowly. I watch intently as a second helmeted girl, slides down and walks toward the back of the trailer. Timidly, she raises her visor and glances in our direction. Pausing just long enough to shrug her shoulders and raise her eyebrows apologetically. Not waiting for our response, she turns back to her friend. Together, they lower the ramp. “You go first. I’ve got Bumblebee,” I hear Tangles command.

  Jessie May climbs on a green snowmobile and takes off first. I watch her speed off down the path, until she vanishes in the distance.

  Girls on snowmobiles, that’s badass.

  I’m caught off guard when a yellow and black streak whips around us, throwing a sheet of snow in our faces. Before I have time to process the icy sting, she’s gone.

  “Must be Bumblebee,” I chuckle, watching Brody spit out a mouth full of snow.

  He scratches the side of his nose, looking down at the ground. “Dude, what just happened?”

  “Not sure, Bro,” I chuckle, amused by the audacity of that chick. I feel my forehead pinch, as I pull my eyebrows together, shaking the snow from my head. “Whatever it was, I kind of liked it.”

  I SNAP MY HEAD AROUND, startled by the crunching snow behind me. What’s that? My heart rate spikes, and I freeze long enough to scope out the parking lot. I’m relieved when three familiar faces peek around a nearby trailer. Phew, it’s just Mason and the girls returning from their potty break. Damn, I was kinda hoping it was Tangles, back for round two. Jenna cocks her head, as her eyes roam my body. “What’s up with you?”

  That damn mood detector of hers. I widen my smile, “What do you mean?”

  “You’re smiling.”

  For the first time in weeks, I’m consciously aware that the corners of my mouth are pulled into a grin. “Guess I am.”

  “It’s a good look on you. What brought it on?”

  I shake my head, chuckling, “I don’t even know where to start.” I look over at Brody, “Your story to tell, Brody. Go ahead.”

  He scratches his head, “Let’s just say, while you were away, we had a run-in with a couple of spicy country girls, and this dumbass thought it was funny.” He points over to the big, white F-250. “See that truck right there? It cut me off when I was trying to park, and I plowed right into it.”

  Jenna looks back at me open-mouthed and wide-eyed, “And you’re laughing? How’s that funny?”

  “You’ll see when you read the stickers on her window.”

  “I’m a country girl. We don’t keep calm.”

  “Not just the camo one. Read the one with the fairy godmother wearing a cowboy hat.”

  Kaitlyn reads another sticker,

  “I don’t need no magic wand to get you off my tail. Who needs fairy dust when you’ve got gunpowder?”

  “Don’t those stickers just say it all?” I look back at Brody, and snort through my laughter. “The girl who was driving was something else. Spunky, little runt. She didn’t back down for a second. Bro looked so scared, I thought he was going to pee himself.”

  “Sounds like she’s got an attitude to me. Beware of them country girls,” Mason warns.

  “Well, anyone who can hold her own with two crazy oafs like you is my kind of girl,” Jenna winks.

  “Where’d they go? Did you already exchange insurance info and stuff?” Mason questions, walking around the front of the truck, as he surveys the scene.

  “We already checked it out. No damage to either rig. They took off a minute ago.”

  “Well, in that case, we should hurry up and find them,” Jenna giggles.

  I’m caught off guard by her enthusiasm. “What? Why?”

  “I’d like to thank the girl who put that smile back on your face … and ask her where I can get those stickers,” she jokes, nudging me in the ribs.

  Brody still looks a little off kilter. “Well, I think we’d best grab the machines and head the other direction. That curly haired one was fired up!” He releases a deep breath and pulls his hand through his hair, “And I’m pretty sure she’s not lying about those guns. Look through the back window. Her rack is loaded. Scary. Nope, not messin’ with that one.” He climbs up the trailer and starts the first sled, backing it down.

  Kaitlyn climbs on the back of Brody’s snowmobile, wrapping her arms around him. “Don’t worry, it’s my turn to protect you for once. Curly-haired, country girls don’t scare me at all.”

  Me neither. I think to myself, traveling up the ramp, to help unload the rest of the snowmobiles. Distracted by the replay of the feisty encounter looping through my head, it seems like no time before we’re all on the snowcats ready to roll.

  “Which way, boss?” Mason asks, buttoning his helmet strap.

  I scan the wide trail noting the two paths that diverge before me. One leads downhill to the west, the other uphill to the north. Despite my best effort to resist, my eyes are drawn in the direction I last saw the yellow and black streak. Bad thought, dude. Bad thought. That way’s trouble. My conscience tells me no, but the little devil on my shoulder says YES. Against my better judgement, I point my snowmobile north. “I feel like going this way today.” I raise my good arm and motion my friends forward.

  I follow the tracks left by Bumblebee and her sidekick, Jessie May. They swerve in and out drawing figure eights in the fresh powder. It’s mesmerizing to watch the intricate pattern weaving beneath me as I run through the middle of the circles, cutting them in half one by one. I thoroughly enjoy the mindlessness of following someone else's tracks. I’m tired of thinking. Tired of overthinking. Tired of guilt. Tired of pain. I don’t have to lead this way. I don’t have to think at all. All I need to do is follow the mind-freeing map that someone else created. I’m almost giddy inside, until I begin to lose sight of the design. The figure eights have become slightly harder to detect. The falling snow has begun to fill in the tracks. I can’t lose their trail. I’ve got to see how that chick rides.

  Instinctively, I press the throttle. The machine snaps forward. Unprepared for the intensity of the sudden thrust, I’m whipped to the back corner of the seat, barely holding on with my good arm. Crap. It almost
got away from me. Aside from nearly flying off, the sudden, sharp pain in my arm, reminds me that I haven’t fully recovered from my serious injury. I let up on the throttle long enough to readjust my position and collect my thoughts. I’m not about to give up the peace I found in those tracks. This beast is not going to take that from me. Determined to ride like the wind, I center myself on the seat, plant my boots on the foot holds, squeeze my thighs around my opponent, and hit the throttle one more time.

  As I travel swiftly down the path, the exhilarating speed has me laughing out loud. My periphery is a blur of green, brown, and white. The icy wind whips through my jacket, sending a slight shiver down to my core. I cock my head back toward the sky and squeal, “You guys cold?” I can’t hear anything through the buzz of my Arctic Cat and my padded helmet, so I shrug my shoulders and keep going. They can handle it. We’ve definitely been colder than this before. My senses are on fire from the gorgeous sights, mind-numbing sounds, and chilly late afternoon air. It gives me a gentle reminder of what it’s like to feel something other than fear, sadness, and despair.

  I decide to slow down a bit to see if I can’t take in another dose of clean-air therapy. A pristine wonderland stretches out before me. I’m nearly surrounded by towering mountains. Off in the distance, the meadows are blanketed with fluffy powder. Staring up at the tree-lined ridges, I picture the hand of God holding a paintbrush. It’s calm. Peaceful. Serene. No man could ever create something so perfect, so beautiful.

  I continue to sputter along, looking up at Mt. Shasta. Distracted by the exceptional skyline, I don’t see the large rut below me. As the sled dips unexpectedly, I find myself thrown against the handlebars. I come to a sudden stop, carefully scooting back in the seat. My stomach flips a little from the shock of the impact. I’d better be careful. One armed driving is trickier than I thought. I decide to wait for a minute to regain my composure.

  Sitting in the stillness, my eyes focus on the falling snow. I’ve always loved sitting outside in the middle of a gentle snowfall. There’s a certain feeling that comes with it. An unparalleled quiet. An insulating calm. I’ve relished this comforting feeling since I was a child, and I eagerly look forward to its return each winter.

  Gazing into a gentle flurry, I follow a snowflake until it lands softly on my rounded visor. Then another. And another. A familiar vision comes over me. I’m not sure what it is, but I’ve had it before. My mind searches to make the connection, until it finally comes to me. The Thomas Kincade Painting. Our Winter Wonderland painting. A picture of Peyton flashes through my mind. We’re standing together in the falling snow. I have my arms wrapped around her. We’re carving our initials into the bridge. Peyton. What am I doing? I snap out of my trance and pull my eyes back to the ground. It’s a brutal reminder of my search for the figure eights. My search for Bumblebee. Tangles. I know I’m here to try to take my mind off Peyton, but what kind of a dog am I? Sniffing out someone else's tracks?

  I’m angry at myself. Angry for even thinking about being disloyal to Peyton. I close my eyes praying for forgiveness, but I can’t focus long enough to speak an entire prayer. All I can do is picture her screaming at me over and over.

  “You killed her! You don’t want the new Peyton! And guess what else, Caden? I DON’T want you either! You’re dead to me! You hear me? Dead! You killed her! You don’t want the new Peyton! And guess what else, Caden? I DON’T want you either. You’re dead to me! You hear me? Dead!”

  Sick to my stomach, I turn the key and the engine roars back to life. I’ve got to get out of here. Furious about potentially destroying my relationship, I decide to take a different route. I don’t want to think of what could’ve happened if I ran into that girl. What the hell was I thinking trying to find her anyway? I’ll take my own path. One that she’s not on. I’m sorry, Peyton. Really, I don’t know what I was thinking.

  Off to the left, a narrow trail catches my eye. Perfect. I hold on tight and press down on the throttle. I need to forget about the nightmare replaying in my mind. She said she didn’t want me. She said I killed her. I can’t handle the thought anymore. I search my mind for songs, television shows, anything to distract me from her cutting words echoing around inside my head. Finally, my senses clear, and I allow myself to refocus on my surroundings.

  That’s when I perceive it, another snowmobile nearby. I slow down to see if I can hear its motor. Yes. That’s definitely not my engine. It’s got a different buzz to it. Alright. They found me. I was worried about leaving the gang, but I just couldn’t help myself. My trail sniffing, inner speed demon got the best of me. I can feel the second snowmobile pushing on my tail, so I turn my head to see who’s caught up to me.

  I can hear the high pitched buzz of the snowmobile, but I can’t see it. It must be just behind the bend. I slow down to give my visitor a chance to catch up. The trail is so narrow, I need to face forward so I don’t run off into the deep powder. I can definitely hear the buzz getting louder. I continue on slowly, making sure to close the distance between my friends and me. When are they going to catch up? Geez, a guy can only go so slow before he starts going backward.

  The buzz of the second snowmobile sounds close now. In fact, it’s so close I can feel it pushing on the back of me. The path has made its way to a narrow steep ridge, so I dare not look back to see which of my crazy friends is riding my tail. I hear the engine rev behind me. Oh, that must be Jenna. She’s the only one who would have the guts to rev her engine at me, and think she can get away with it. I think I’ll drop my speed just a little more to mess with her.

  Gently, I back my thumb off the throttle, slowing to a near stop. Another rev. I can feel my grin stretching from ear to ear as I look around, pretending to enjoy the scenery. As I’m looking up to the cascading tree-line, I hear a double rev behind me, followed by what sounds to be a small squeaky voice. Good thing I can’t hear what she’s saying. I chuckle to myself, knowing that I’m getting her goat.

  I’m having fun pestering the little gnat behind me, until the path begins to widen. Game over. Shoot. I can hear Jenna’s snowmobile begin to pick up speed. I turn my head with a cocky grin, only to be pounded in the face by a sheet of snow. Wet slush drips down my goggles. Through the steam, I can faintly make out a yellow and black streak, passing me on my right. What? Bumblebee? My stomach flips when I realize it wasn’t Jenna after all. I need to slow down to wipe my goggles. Working with an injured arm is tough. I can’t get the goggles to defog, so I flip them up, and scan for the little shit that just killed my vision.

  Not ten feet ahead of me, I spot the unmistakable brown curls, spraying out from beneath the helmet. She pulls to a stop. Looking back over her shoulder, I hear her voice flair, “Hey Grandpa, you really need to take that clunker to the golf course. It’s more your speed. Plus, I hear they’re giving away free Depends … you know, just in case you mess yourself on the big kids’ playground.”

  I don’t have a chance to respond or react, before she raises her hand, shooting up what looks to be her middle finger, and then takes off. No way. Who is this girl? What a biotch! You know what? It’s time to squash the bumblebee. I center myself on my snowmobile, lean forward, and tear across the snow like a bat out of hell. Game on!

  Within seconds, I spot my prey. She’s moving at a pretty good rate, but I know if I climb the hill off to the left, I can drop down and take her. I shift my balance knowing that I have to compensate for my injury. I rev my engine and climb toward the tree-line. She won’t even see me coming. I stalk her for a few minutes, fascinated by her speed, as she weaves in and out of downed trees. This chick has nuggets. So Tangles does have skill.

  I continue to sneak along, high on the hillside, ducking around bushes, and riding almost parallel to her. As soon as I see the path widen, I’ll make my move. But for now, I want to stay hidden from view. It’s entertaining watching her ride. I continue to stalk her as I see her begin to shift in her seat. She’s moved into a kneeling position. What is she doing?

&nb
sp; As I look down the path, I can see the large mogul she’s spotted. I watch her pick up speed as she hits the huge mound and kicks her legs back away from her body into a full extension. A loud “Yeehawwwwww!” booms up the hill, as she slams back down onto her seat.

  Maybe she doesn’t have nuggets after all. I flash back to some of the freestyle tricks I learned last season. I’ve pulled that one before. No man wants to land that one wrong. Ouch.

  It’s time to get another look at this X Games princess up close. I make my move to drop down in front of her. Too bad this bum arm is keeping me from flying by with my Superman Seat Grab, but at least I can show her my speed. With the slope of the angle, I have to step off onto the left foothold, so I don’t roll. I’m standing upright, trying to work out my balance without losing speed. It’s tough to hang on with my arm tied up. This stupid arm. I can’t wait for my appointment next week to see if I can get this sling off. My eyes cut through the trees, lining out a perfect path to pass Tangles. Quickly, I shoot down the hill, cutting right in front of the ice queen.

  She whips her head around in such haste, that I know I’ve caught her off guard. Just as I pull in front of her, slide around to the hood, and jump onto the front skis, she whips her handlebars to the right. I try to maintain a hold on the throttle, but the play of events unravelling before me, brings my showboating to a stop. “Whoa there, baby,” I call out. I release the throttle, and jump off, right in front of Tangles, who’s lying in a heap next to her snowmobile.

  I have to laugh when I see her struggling to move. She looks like a turtle flipped on its back. I bend down to give her a hand up, meeting her blazing, mocha eyes. A ball of fire burns its way into my chest, leaving sparks in its path. I jump back in shock by the force of the internal flare that caught me off guard. Holy crap. Stop that, Caden. I bend down again holding out my hand. Tangles stares it down like it’s a snake, ready to strike. “Take it.”