LuLLaY

by Freya Barker

  "Man!"

  The little girl's screech has the woman's head turn in my direction and recognition immediately registers on her expressive face.

  "What are the odds?" she says in a rich, strong voice, echoing my earlier thought, but then her eyes cloud over with suspicion.

  Ignoring the waitress heading toward me with a menu, I make my way over to the woman's table and hold out my hand.

  "Matt Savela. If we're going to be bumping into each other in random places, we should probably introduce ourselves."

  With a hesitant smile, she puts her soft hand in mine. "I'm Tana and this is my daughter, Flynn."

  "Pretty name for a pretty girl," I flirt with the little tyke, who is sporting a much sunnier disposition today, as I hold out my hand. I chuckle when instead of putting her hand in mine, she grabs hold of my thumb and with much enthusiasm, pumps her little arm up and down.

  "Man fix car." More subdued than earlier, her little voice sounds like a chipmunk with a heavy smoking habit. Raspy but with a shot of helium, and that little melodic lilt at the end of the sentence, which makes everything sound like a question.

  "Matt—and I helped with the car, yes." My thumb abandoned, she dives back into her toast and jelly, and I turn to her mom. "Do you mind if I join you?" She looks surprised, but since I'm already pulling out a chair beside her daughter, she almost has no choice but to agree with a slight nod. Knowing this may look like more than just a coincidence to her, I slide my phone across the table. "Check my contacts for The Skipper and call the number. Whoever answers will confirm I'm a harmless bartender with no prior record. I'm on my way to pick up my little sister and take her back to Portland with me." I bite down a grin when I see one incredulous eyebrow rise until it almost hits her hairline.

  When I turn to give the waitress who has followed me my order, Tana's hand sneaks out and snatches my phone off the table.

  "Coffee, three eggs scrambled, bacon and a double serving of hash browns. Rye toast, please." I turn away from the waitress and focus on the woman across the table, who just put my phone to her ear.

  "Yes, hi. This is a little awkward..."

  Tana

  "...But I'm sitting across the table from a man who claims to be a harmless bartender at your establishment."

  The booming bark of laughter from the man answering the phone startles me.

  "Matt? Damn, Syd, I think you should take this call," I hear the guy call out.

  A second later I hear a woman's voice, "Hello?"

  "I'm sorry to bother you, but a man who says his name is Matt Savela just sat down beside my daughter, across the table from me, and told me to call you. He says you can vouch for him." I try not to look at the man in question, who seems to be closely following my call.

  "He's always been drawn to kids," the woman says, a tender tone to her voice. "I'm Syd, and my husband owns The Skipper. Matt has worked here for much longer than I've known my husband. He's good people, just a little forward. I'll gladly vouch for him, but tell him from me I'm glad he's discovering the benefits of a phone call, and I expect him to check in tonight."

  Before I have a chance to thank her, she's already hung up.

  "Okay, so you seem to be who you say you are," I start, sliding the phone back to him. "And your boss's wife expects a phone call tonight, but that still doesn't explain how you happen to show up almost five hundred miles from a gas station where we bumped into each other." My instincts are usually good, and this man did not really send up any red flags, but the coincidence is too big to just push aside.

  "Like I said, I'm on my way to Minnesota to help my younger sister move closer to me. I'm not sure where you went after leaving Albany, but I took the 90 to Buffalo and got hit by weather and traffic, and this morning's start was a little slower than I'd hoped. The weather being what it is, I decided not to attempt to stick to my two-day time frame, which allowed me to stop for a hot meal. And for the record, I was just as surprised to see you and your little girl here."

  "You took the 90? Didn't you check the forecast?"

  Don't ask me why that is the first thing out of my mouth, but it leaves him looking at me like I have two heads.

  "Man want toast?" Flynn, who is usually pretty reserved with new people, holds out a soggy crust of toast in her jelly-covered hand.

  It's my turn to sit slack-jawed as he turns to her with a big smile, takes the bit of toast from her hand, and pops it in his mouth. "Mmmm, yummy. Thank you."

  "Yummy," Flynn echoes, giggling when Matt leans back and rubs his belly. Flynn doesn't notice the quick swig of coffee he tosses back to wash the soggy glob down, but I do and it makes me smile.

  "I can't believe she did that."

  "Yeah, I can't believe I ate that," he deadpans, with a disgusted smirk on his face, which has me bark out a laugh.

  The last of my reservations slip away when I observe the easy way he handles my sometimes demanding daughter. She keeps him entertained while he digs into the heaping plate of food the waitress slides in front of him, as I pick at the remnants of my breakfast. It's giving me a chance to surreptitiously observe him.

  I'd already established he's tall—I'm guessing around six two—and definitely younger than I am. Not quite as young as I'd initially thought, judging by the sprinkle of gray by his ears and in the slight scruff on his chin today. When he turns to smile at Flynn, I can see the fine lines fanning out from the corner of his eye. He has one of those youthful faces that will likely stay unchanged through the years. So unfair. I'm not that lucky, with frown lines, and grooves around my mouth which seem deeper every time I look at my reflection. My jawline is definitely softening, and I don't even want to get going on what's happening under my original chin. Since I discovered a long hair where it most definitely does not belong, I've avoided getting too close to a mirror.

  What a weird situation: my daughter babbling with this stranger, while I observe. To an outsider, we might look like a family out for lunch, when in reality, I have no idea who this man is or why he sat down at my table.

  "Why did you sit down here?" I ask him, out of the blue.

  His eyes turn to me as he slowly puts down his fork. "Because I suddenly didn't feel like eating alone. I spent a good twelve hours alone in my car yesterday, and the only interaction I had was with you at the gas station Seeing you two sitting here seemed serendipitous. Call it fate—or not—but I'm the last person to argue with good fortune."

  I can't help the flash of satisfaction at being likened to good fortune, and I allow myself to bask in the glow of a handsome guy seeking me out. I've not had much of that in recent years, not when I come with a child. Oddly enough, that only seems to be part of the appeal for this man.

  "So where are you heading that'll take two or three days to get to?"

  "Minnesota. Esko, Minnesota, to be correct." I do my best to hide my shock, but don't succeed all the way. "Don't worry," he adds, taking my face twitch the wrong way. "No one knows it. I don't think we've managed to broach two thousand inhabitants yet. I'm sure you've heard of Duluth, though?" At my silent nod, he continues, "We're maybe fifteen miles west of Duluth. What about you? Where are you headed?"

  He takes me by surprise, even though I opened this can of worms myself. I just never thought he'd be going in the same direction. My carefully honed self-preservation has me respond with a lie.

  "Minneapolis."

  CHAPTER THREE

  Matt

  Her hesitation doesn't escape me, and I realize how potentially vulnerable she is, traveling alone with her daughter. It's quite possible Minneapolis is not her final destination, but if that's the case, I don't really blame her.

  "We should get back on the road," she says, a bit flustered as she gets up and grabs her wallet from her purse.

  "Lunch is on me," I state firmly, as she rounds the table and unclips Flynn from her seat. She gives me a sharp look and opens her mouth to protest, but her daughter interrupts.

  "Wynnie stay."

>   "We've got to get on the road, baby. Grandpa and Granny are waiting," Tana coos, trying to hold onto her flailing child.

  "No. Wynnie wants man."

  "Matt, sweetie. His name is Matt." She turns to me, a struggling daughter under her arm. "I should change her before we go. I hope you have a good trip, Matt, and thank you for lunch."

  Flynn has a good set of lungs, which she proves all the way to the bathrooms. My eyes follow the sway of Tana's generous hips until they disappear through the door on the far side. I quickly shovel my last piece of toast in my mouth and head over to the counter to pay. Part of me feels guilty for trying to slip out before them, but it's probably better for Flynn if I silently disappear.

  I'm already backing out of my parking spot when I see Tana and the little one step outside. Somehow her silvery eyes find mine through my tinted windshield, and time seems to grind to a halt. I'm not sure what it is about this woman and her little girl, but I can feel it tearing at me when I finally shift my vehicle into drive. With a lift of my chin when I pass her, I leave her standing on the sidewalk, looking after me.

  A different time, maybe a different place, I would...with a sharp shake of my head, I find my way back to the interstate. It's not until I'm back on the 90 that I realize she never gave me her full name. I did notice she doesn't wear a wedding ring, and she referred to the little girl as her daughter. Neither of those things necessarily mean anything, but that doesn't stop my mind from spinning fantasies.

  -

  The skies are mostly clear, especially once I pass Toledo. There hasn't been a trace of snow through Michigan, but when I hit Indiana, dark clouds roll in. Halfway between Angola and Elkhart the snow starts falling, and by the time I get to South Bend it's coming down in earnest.

  Traffic slows to a crawl, and the fact it's rush hour does not help matters. It takes me almost two hours to get from one side of the city to the other. The smart thing to do is probably find a place to spend the night, but with only an hour and a half to reach Chicago, I opt to push through.

  Big mistake.

  Conditions only get worse, with blizzard-like conditions the closer to Lake Michigan I get. Cars are slipping off the road right and left, and I barely manage to avoid a tractor trailer scissoring and sliding into the ditch right before me. Time to call uncle. I keep my eyes peeled for the next major exit which, according to the GPS on my phone, should be La Porte. I'll find a room there.

  I know I'm in trouble another hour and a half later, when the third place in a row tells me they have no vacancies. Apparently, between yesterday and today, some of the roads have become impassable. To top it off, a section on the south side of town has been without power since last night, including the two other hotels in town. All those folks had to be housed as well. It's mayhem. A friendly clerk gives me the number for a Hilton Garden Inn in Chesterton she thinks may have a room or two left.

  I head back to my SUV and with the engine on to keep it warm, I call them.

  "Hilton Garden Inn, one moment please." Before I have a chance to respond to the much too cheery voice, warbly Christmas music sounds in my ear. Not surprising, with Christmas only a little over a week away, but annoying all the same. I'm just starting to think it might be faster to drive the half hour to the hotel, when someone finally answers.

  "Good evening. Hilton Garden Inn, how may I assist you?"

  "Good evening. I'm looking for a room?"

  "What date and how many in your party, sir?"

  "Tonight, actually, just for me. Do you have anything?" The woman makes a hissing sound, and I quickly add, "At this point I'll settle for a broom closet."

  "I'm sorry, sir, it looks like all the rooms have been booked."

  Exasperated, I run a hand through my hair and take a deep breath so I don't take my frustration out on the messenger. "Any other suggestions? Anything along the highway?"

  "Maybe if you can make it to South Bend, there will be more availability."

  "I just came from South Bend, I'm heading toward Chicago." Again I hear the regretful hissing and I brace myself for more bad news.

  "Sir, they shut down the 90 just west of here, almost all the way to Gary, due to zero visibility. The system has stalled over top of us, and with the addition of the lake effect snow, the plows can't keep up."

  "Shit. Look, can I maybe hang out in the lobby? Maybe some of your guests can't make it and a room opens up?" The woman sounds nice enough, and I'm plenty desperate to beg at this point.

  "I don't know...we're not really allowed—"

  "I get that, but surely you see how this is an unusual situation."

  "Well...maybe if you give me your name and number, I can call you as soon as something becomes available."

  I rattle off my information which she takes down.

  "I appreciate it," I thank her before hanging up and gingerly maneuvering my Equinox out of the packed parking lot and back onto the road.

  She may not have agreed to me camping out in the lobby, but I'm gambling she won't be able to kick me back out into the storm once I'm there.

  What should be a half hour drive, takes me much longer. I'm so relieved when I turn onto the cutoff for Chesterton, I almost miss the taillights glowing from the deep ditch along the off-ramp. I slow down and gingerly back up, on what I think is the shoulder, until I see the imprint of tracks in the snow crossing the shoulder in front of me. Shifting back to drive, I cautiously turn the wheel toward the slope until the back of the vehicle below becomes visible in the stream of my headlights.

  It takes me only a second to register the Massachusetts license plate and another one to recognize the red SUV it's attached to.

  Tana

  "It's okay, sweetie," I soothe as I wrap Flynn a little tighter on my lap.

  I'm so grateful I had the foresight to put my emergency bag on the passenger seat when I left the Denny's. Part of me wasn't surprised to find Matt already gone when I got out of the bathroom, and despite the pang of disappointment, I was glad I didn't have to deal with another temper tantrum from my three-year-old.

  Luckily kids have a very short attention span, and by the time I walked out of the bathroom carrying her, she'd already forgotten the reason for her outburst. I'm hoping it'll be true for this ordeal.

  When I realized the bad weather was only intensifying, I immediately started calling around for a room without much luck. Then I saw the exit sign with a lodging logo and tried to make the turnoff, but I guess I was going too fast for the exit ramp, lost control of the car, and slid down the embankment.

  The car slid clear to the bottom and stopped at an angle. Thank God it wasn't a hard impact, because the airbags didn't even deploy. I immediately turned around to find Flynn staring at me wide-eyed. I unbuckled, twisted in my seat, and pulled her from her seat and onto my lap. Not a scratch on either of us, but my baby knew something was wrong and started crying softly. I've been keeping us warm with my emergency blanket and she just now is starting to fall asleep.

  A light hits my rearview mirror, almost blinding me. Those look like headlights.

  I hear a car door and then a voice calling. "Tana! Shit, Tana, are you all right?"

  "Man."

  My eyes drop down to my daughter who has hers wide open, and instead of the trembling lip I expected, the little wench has a smile on her face. A sharp knock on my window startles me, and I swing around to find a very concerned, but welcome and familiar face.

  "Man!"

  Flynn almost leaps off my lap when Matt pulls the door open, launching herself at him.

  "Whoa, little one." He barely manages to catch her and settle her on his hip, before looking her over and then scanning me up and down. "Are you guys okay?"

  "We're fine," I assure him, trying to get out but he stops me.

  "Stay there for now. Take the baby and I'll grab her seat."

  He ignores protests and plops a disgruntled Flynn on my lap before disappearing from view, only to open the passenger side back door and sticki
ng his head back in.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Gonna put her seat in the back of my ride. There's no way we'll get anyone out here to get your wheels back on the road, and we've got to get out of this weather," he says firmly, without bothering to look at me, so he doesn't see the disgruntled look on my face.

  Five minutes later, he has the seat installed and our travel bags loaded in the back of his SUV. Carrying a happy Flynn on his hip, and pressing a firm hand at my lower back, he helps me clamber up the steep slope to his vehicle. Once we're safely strapped in, he carefully steers us back on the road.

  "Where are we going?"

  "There's a Hilton just the other side of the highway. I'm on the waiting list. The 90 is closed up ahead, so no one can get through."

  "I'm not surprised," I comment. "I could barely see the taillights of the car in front of me."

  One moment I'm fine, enjoying the warm air blowing from the vents, and the next my entire body starts shaking and my teeth begin to chatter. Matt puts a concerned hand on my leg. "Are you cold?" All I manage to do is shake my head. He squeezes my knee. "Probably a delayed reaction. Hang in, we're almost there. Let's hope they have room for us, so that little one can get some sleep, and maybe a hot bath would do you good."

  It probably would, but the large warm hand he leaves on my leg helps too. I fish my Triple A membership card and my phone from the purse Matt set at my feet, and try to give them a call.

  "Long wait times due to the weather," I tell him, after listening to the message.

  "We'll try again at the hotel."

  "Is your wife okay?" The night clerk asks Matt, throwing a concerned glance in my direction. Matt led me inside, carrying my daughter once again, and installed us on the couch in the lobby before turning to the desk.