Snowstorm Confessions

by Rachel Lee

  “Anyway, I saw plenty of people die. Too many of them were young. Too many of them wound up losing a future that only a few hours before they had been sure they would live out.”

  “That’s painful.”

  “It’s also a kind of wisdom. There really is no guarantee that tomorrow will come for any of us. I saw a lot of that in the emergency room. It made me aware of how fast time was slipping away, and how little guarantee there was that you’d ever be able to make up for it. Moments are fleeting, then they’re gone. What if there’s never another moment?”

  He drew a long, slow breath. “My God,” he said quietly.

  “Is that stupid?”

  “Hell, no.” More forcefully.

  “So at some level, I think I was feeling that we were losing our moments. Moments that could never be recovered. Time was slipping away while we lived our separate lives, coming together only for Skype conversations or your breaks. That wasn’t a whole lot of moments for us. I was grateful for them, but I also started resenting the moments we didn’t have, and fearing that the future might never arrive. I couldn’t really look at it that way, though. It was...overwhelming. So I focused on little moments rather than the big picture.”

  He didn’t say anything immediately, just sat sipping his coffee, appearing lost in thought. The TV, volume turned down, still babbled on about the severity of the storm.

  Then it winked off. The house was suddenly utterly silent except for the storm outside. The loss of the forced-air heat was instantly noticeable.

  “Better pull out the blankets,” Bri said. “It could be a long few days.”

  “What about the fireplace?” Luke said, pointing to the interior wall of the living room. “Is it safe to use?”

  “Jack cleaned the chimney for me in October. It should be okay.”

  “Wood?”

  “Out back, buried in snow and ice. I might need a pickax to get at it, but if necessary, I will.”

  “I think you can do anything you set your mind to, darlin’. I just wish I could help.”

  “Not being alone is helping.” A painful truth, but still a truth. Alone she’d be wondering how long this would go on, and what she could do about it anyway. Luke’s presence made it easier, more pleasant.

  She rose. “I’ll get more blankets and some flashlights. Be right back.”

  “I hope so. We still have a conversation to finish.”

  She doubted it was a conversation that could ever be finished. She’d admitted she wasn’t built to be the kind of wife he needed, and she seriously doubted he would give up a career he loved to live in this place. There was no need to even look beyond that. None.

  She found two big flashlights in her kitchen pantry. A check of her cell phone showed that she had no signal. The landline didn’t even buzz. Right in town, surrounded by neighbors, and they were as cut off as if they lived in an empty field. Nobody was in a position to help anyone else, and certainly nobody would be foolhardy enough to risk their necks out there. Snow was one thing, ice another. As it glazed the world, even walking could be dangerous.

  It took her two trips to bring all her blankets. She used the flashlight to look out of the mudroom at her rarely used woodpile and wondered if the snow beneath the new ice might make it easier to get some of those logs inside. It might, but judging by the way the flashlight reflected off the ice as if it were a mirror, she figured it would be treacherous any way she looked at it. Worse, if something went wrong, there was no way to summon help. Power out, phones out... She hated to imagine the work the utilities crews might even now be trying to do. In this.

  God.

  She piled the blankets on Luke’s bed, then rejoined him. “At least I can still cook and make coffee on the stove, but even the phones are dead.”

  “I just checked, too. Nothing.”

  “I meant to check the mudroom door, to see if I could open it.” She hopped up.

  “Why?”

  “If we need wood. Luke, everything is glazed out there. If I have to go out there for wood, I want to take the shortest path possible.”

  “Maybe we should just hunker down. We can pile on the blankets and share body heat. If you got hurt out there...”

  “That did cross my mind. No way to get help.”

  “So we’ll manage. I have winter gear and so do you. We’ll burrow in like a couple of polar bears.”

  She switched off the flashlight to save the batteries, and they sat in a darkness so deep it almost caused vertigo. Not even the familiar streetlights were working, so not a single glimmer of light seeped into the room.

  Luke still hadn’t responded to what she had said earlier. She wondered if he had forgotten or if he was thinking about it. She had sure made it clear why their marriage had fallen apart: she wasn’t the right person for it.

  There was certainly no way to change that. She could talk more, she could express her feelings more, but she doubted she could change enough to become the kind of person who would be happy in an absentee relationship.

  Luke spoke. “So you needed more?”

  His voice startled her out of her thoughts. “More?”

  “More of a relationship. A lot more time together.”

  “A future. Or at least the belief that we’d share more moments together. Otherwise, what was the point?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that.”

  It was his turn to fall silent. She waited, listening to the storm, feeling the chill in the house grow slowly. Almost as the chill in her heart had grown during their marriage. Just a little at a time, until finally everything was frozen.

  So he was asking himself the same question: What was the point? When they’d met at the party of a mutual friend, the attraction had been instantaneous. They’d dated, they’d fallen in love, and even before they married she had begun to live for the times when he would come home. The glow had carried her through. She’d honestly believed it was working, and would work.

  Why had she never wondered if his long absences could be a problem? Too blinded by the excitement and love, she supposed. Not thinking rationally at all, but entirely with her heart. And if she were to be honest, with her sexual hunger for him. Everything had seemed perfect and she didn’t notice or allow herself to think of the things that might not be.

  Even one of her friends, Sharon, had encouraged her. Sharon had been married for eight years, and swore she would trade places with Bri in a heartbeat. “You’re so lucky to have a man who isn’t underfoot all the time. You get to make your own decisions, do things your own way, without always having to consult. Go for it, girl.”

  Bri had laughed at the time, enjoying the advice with just a teeny grain of salt. What she hadn’t known, couldn’t have known, was that having Luke underfoot more of the time was exactly what she wanted and needed.

  But how could she even be sure of that? She had seriously missed him the whole time he was gone, but how could she possibly know that she would have been happier if he had been there all the time? She had never experienced it.

  Man, she was a mess.

  “I wish I could see your face.”

  She started to reach for the flashlight.

  “No, don’t,” he said. Although it was so dark in there he must have guessed her intention from the sound of her movement. “Some things are easier to talk about in the dark. Besides, I can feel you starting to question yourself.”

  “How can you possibly tell that?”

  “Well, how about we were married and I could sense your moods even if I couldn’t read your mind. And now that you’ve told me how you were taught to question your every feeling, why wouldn’t I assume that the nervousness I feel in you has to do with that?”

  “Damn, Luke, if I can’t figure myself out, how can you?”

  “Maybe I’m learning. Anyway, I was trying to say that I’ve started to question what we were doing, too. I was too busy and self-centered at the time, but I hope I’ve grown up a bit. You mentioned all the moments we we
re missing because I was away. I think about that and realize that you’re right. The mere fact that we thought we could do that doesn’t mean we could, or that it was right for us. I keep coming back to you saying that what we had was an affair, not a marriage. That’s really sticking, because it’s true.”

  She felt him reach out and feel for her hand until he grasped it. The warmth of his touch filled her with fire. It always did.

  Then she asked the important question. “So where do we go from here?”

  Chapter 13

  Weak morning light peeked around the edges of the drapes. Bri, securely rolled up in blankets with Luke, felt warm everywhere except her face. Her nose told her that the temperature in the house was falling dangerously toward freezing.

  And the howling of the wind outside told her that the storm was far from over. How long could this possibly keep up? The weirdest spring ever, and now an endless ice storm? It just didn’t seem possible.

  When she moved, Luke groaned a protest.

  “Sorry,” she murmured. “I need to make some coffee and take care of business. And look outside.”

  The reluctance with which he let her go actually leavened her heart. Dangerous feelings, feelings that could lead her back to anguish and misery.

  She had to stop living in a fantasy world and face reality. She might care about this man. She certainly had loved him once, but everything about their natures made them wrong for each other.

  She slipped out from under the blankets. Before they’d climbed into their cozy little bundle, she’d donned plenty of fleece and heavy wool socks. Even with those, the coldness in the house made her reach for her parka and pull it on.

  She’d left the water dripping overnight to ensure that the pipes didn’t freeze. It was still dripping, thank goodness. But without power to find out how cold it was outside, she didn’t dare turn it off.

  Digging around in her cupboard, she found her old percolator and started coffee. The sound of the running water finally caused her to dash for the bathroom, though.

  Other things would just have to wait.

  If she wanted to wash up, she would have to heat more water. The stuff coming out of her faucet felt barely warmer than an ice cube.

  When she returned to the living room with coffee cake and coffee, she found Luke sitting up in his wheelchair, once again dressed in his cut-up sweats. Around his shoulders he’d managed to drape his parka, and a blanket covered his legs.

  “It’d be nice if we could get some information,” he remarked as she placed cake and coffee in front of him.

  “I have a battery-powered radio. I should probably try it, but if the power outage is widespread, they won’t be broadcasting much, either. At least not regularly. I don’t know if they have a generator powerful enough.”

  “Well, let’s find out.”

  Which was the simple solution to all her speculations. She paused. “Do I always do that?”

  “What?”

  “Come up with potential problems before I know if they exist?”

  In the dim light he looked surprised. “I never thought about it. Train of thought. It doesn’t bother me if you do.”

  Or maybe, she was yammering to avoid other subjects, she thought as she went to get the radio from the shelf in her closet. Out in the living room, she turned the radio on. The crackle of static announced it was still operational, but no amount of scanning the dial got them even the faintest sound of a voice.

  Luke switched it off. “We’ll try again in a little while.”

  The cold in the house seemed to increase her hunger, and Bri ate more than she usually would of the cake, then went to get more coffee.

  “I’m going to have to try to get to the woodpile,” she said finally. She opened the front curtains, revealing a leaden world coated in ice, and now filled with as much blowing snow as a snow globe. “This is not promising.”

  “The company is making it kind of fun.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at him and drew a sharp breath as she saw his warm, caressing smile. “We could freeze to death,” she said desperately, trying to ignore his obvious invitation.

  “Or we could warm up another way.” But he tilted his head and shrugged. “I get it. If we don’t get power back soon, we’re in trouble. First things first. But damn, Bri, I’m worried about you going out there to get wood. You could get hurt.”

  She frowned faintly. “Yes, I could. Or we could sit here and turn into blue Popsicles that get carried straight to the morgue. I’m worried about the neighbors, too. Nobody’s really prepared for a situation like this.”

  “You can’t go up and down the neighborhood on this ice. Won’t the police be checking?”

  She hesitated. “Probably. Yes, probably. But in the meantime, we need wood. And I know damn well that if you weren’t laid up, you’d be headed out there yourself. So don’t give me any trouble about it. I’m capable, too.”

  A shadow passed over his face. “Did I make you feel that you weren’t?”

  “Sometimes,” she admitted. “Anyway, that’s not the point. If I can get out either door, I’ll be careful, and get back here with some wood.”

  She pulled on her best boots, warm and fairly slip-proof, and gloves, then zipped up her parka until she was looking through the snorkel. To her vast relief, the mudroom door wasn’t frozen closed. It took an extra shove to open it, but it swung open wide enough. Then, not knowing what else to do, she went out front, succeeded in getting onto the porch, and scooped up as much salt as she could into the old milk jug she used for this purpose.

  Out back again, she spread it on the porch and steps, hoping it would lend her some traction.

  She waited a moment, hoping it wasn’t too cold to at least melt into the ice, then stepped out. The salt did its job, making her feel as if she were walking on a stable, gritty surface. She reminded herself not to get carried away. Ice could undo her at any moment. The woodpile was only twenty-five feet away. If her footing was good enough, she imagined she could carry three logs at a time. If not, at least two.

  She reached the bottom step when a familiar voice froze her in her tracks.

  “Hi, Bri.”

  She turned her head and saw Jack, bundled for the Arctic, walking cautiously toward her. “You shouldn’t be out here,” she exclaimed. “My God, it’s dangerous. How did you get here?”

  “Walking carefully. Wanted to check on a few people. And hey, you’re out here, too.”

  “Getting some wood to make a fire.”

  “Why don’t you just get back on the porch where you’re safe? I’ll get wood for you.”

  “But...”

  He shook his head. “Hey, you’re a nurse. If I get hurt at least someone will know what to do for me.”

  It was hard to argue with that. Everything Luke had said about Jack rose up in her mind, though. She wished she could send him on his way.

  Then it struck her as odd that he’d come to her backyard. He had no way of knowing she’d be out here. She remembered, too, that other time she had found him alongside her house for no apparent reason. Just checking on the raccoon fencing as he’d claimed? Now, just here in a storm when the whole world had been warned to stay home?

  Well and truly uneasy with Jack for the very first time, she climbed slowly onto her porch and waited. Maybe he was just trying to be nice, but this was really over the top. Risking his neck to check on people? There were plenty of folks paid to do that who were probably out there right now. Was he trying to prove himself indispensable?

  She bit her lip inside the warmth of her snorkel hood and watched him carefully use his booted feet to hammer holes in the ice to reach her woodpile. She’d planned to go to her garage first and get a pickax. She doubted he was going to find it easy to pull wood out from under all the ice.

  But he surprised her. When he reached the woodpile, much smaller than it had been last fall, he started kicking at it. All of a sudden a bunch of logs rolled free.

  For an ins
tant he disappeared as the wind kicked up and the snow became blinding.

  “They keep talking about how we’re getting warmer,” she heard him say as he appeared out of the swirling white fog. “Ask me, climate change is going to be an ice age.”

  “It feels like it this winter.”

  “And last, too.” He mounted the steps carrying four logs. “Let me bring them in and start the fire going.”

  Butterflies began to batter her stomach mercilessly. He’d bring in the wood and start the fire? She knew Luke couldn’t do it, but she could. She’d done it many times. But refusing his help seemed churlish and she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  Nor could she exactly understand why she was getting so nervous about Jack. He was just being Jack, helpful as always, except the conditions somehow made it weird. Nor was she especially in a hurry to see how he and Luke would interact.

  All of a sudden, she realized what her problem was. It wasn’t Jack as much as it was the sense that she now had a guilty secret she didn’t want to get out. At least not with Jack. She and Luke had become intimate. What if that raised Luke’s jealousy? Or what if... What if what? Jack was just being Jack. If he sensed anything, it was none of his business.

  Right.

  She stepped aside and let him carry the logs to her living room. He didn’t need directions. After all the work he’d done for her, he knew the layout as well as she.

  “I’ll get more wood once I get the fire going,” he said over his shoulder.

  “Thank you.” To her own ears the expression sounded strained.

  Luke must have heard them coming. He’d swung around his wheelchair so he was facing the doorway, and his crutches were near at hand.

  “Look,” Bri said too brightly. “Jack was out checking up on people and he got wood for us.”

  “Thanks,” Luke said. His voice sounded too level. His expression had grown an edge, even though he managed to smile. So Luke found this odd, too. “Any news on the weather?”

  Jack shook his head as he dumped the logs into the box by the fireplace. Bri always kept a healthy basket of tinder next to the fireplace matches. More than once in a winter, the fireplace became a necessity, at least for a few hours.