by Lydia Rowan
He’d thought that maybe she’d parked in the garage, but after she hadn’t answered, he’d assumed Verna had made a quick run to the store to grab some supplies, though it didn’t seem like her to be last minute about things. But he’d dismissed the little worming concern that tugged at his brain as overreaction and decided he’d check on her later, maybe chew her out a little bit for leaving when she knew bad weather was coming.
After checking his generator, parking the truck in the garage, and putting away anything that might get damaged outside, he’d looked over, again surprised that Verna wasn’t yet back. Then the sleet had started, and that little concern had grown a bit more. He’d busied himself by putting a tarp on her patio furniture and making sure the house was buttoned up, but the moment he’d stopped moving, worry had flooded in. He’d known he was being paranoid, but he couldn’t turn the feeling off.
Maybe she’s staying somewhere else tonight, he’d thought.
But that hadn’t felt right. If Quinn were around, he would have had no doubt that that was where Verna would be, but with her gone, he couldn’t think of another place. The strain with her parents didn’t appear to have eased, and Joe didn’t know any of her other friends, or anywhere she’d be comfortable enough to stay for an extended period of time. With no satisfactory answer apparent, he’d rambled around the house, checking his watch and looking out the window at every sound on the street. But as it had grown darker, and the street had gone virtually silent, everyone battened down to ride out the storm, he’d been more and more unsettled.
After another glance at his watch—it was 8:01 now—and peek out the window to see no Verna, he stopped pretending he wasn’t worried. He’d resisted calling her to check in, mostly because he was a moron, but partially because he hadn’t wanted to admit the level of his concern, and partially because he wasn’t sure how she’d receive his call. But he wouldn’t be able to rest until he knew she was okay, so he pulled out his phone and dialed.
When she hadn’t answered by the third ring, he was ready to hang up and figure out another way to reach her, but on the fourth she picked up.
“H-hello?” she said, sounding tired and more worried than he’d ever heard her.
“Verna, where the hell are you?” he practically screamed, purposefully ignoring the relief that filled his chest when he heard her voice, downtrodden as it sounded.
“Joe?” Surprise colored her tone. “Um, hi. I’m on Route 74, about four miles from home.”
“What? Why are you out there?” he exclaimed. That road was notoriously poor, and not the place an experienced snow driver would want to be, let alone a novice, as he suspected Verna was.
“The highway was bumper to bumper, so I took a shortcut,” she said.
He paused a moment to get himself under control; he’d yell at her later, but now, he needed to make sure she got home safe.
“Okay,” he said, pleased with how even his tone was. “You need to hurry home; it’s bad out there and only getting worse. There’s supposed to be another few inches of sleet and snow in the next couple of hours, so get back as quick as you can, but be safe.”
“Well…”
“Well, what, Verna?” he asked, keeping himself calm, at least for the moment.
“The thing is, there’s a tree across the road.”
“Can you drive around it?” he asked.
“It’s a big tree, so no, I can’t. It has covered the whole road and the shoulder,” she said quietly.
“Is there anyone out there with you?” he asked.
She paused and then said, “No, I don’t see anyone, but I can go loo—”
“No.” He cut her off, his heart starting to pound. “Stay in the car. Do you have anything to stay warm, an emergency kit with a thermal blanket, trash bags, towels, anything to cover yourself with?”
“Uhh, I have my jacket and about twelve yards of gabardine.”
He released an oath. Her jacket. If he knew Verna, she was being literal, which meant she was out in the middle of an ice storm with a jacket on. Probably even had on sneakers, which would be soaked through before she took two steps outside.
“Pull off to the side of the road, and try to stay away from trees or power lines. Wrap up as best you can, and stay in the car.”
When she didn’t respond, he said, “Did you hear me, Verna?”
“Yes,” she finally said.
“Good. And don’t go anywhere.”
Then he hung up.
••••
Verna stared down at her phone, not quite sure what to make of that conversation. Joe had sounded almost worried…for her.
Not even her parents had checked on her, and while it was sad that no one else seemed to care, it was equally heartening that Joe seemed to. She’d have to thank him if she ever made it home.
And he was right about moving the car. Funny, she hadn’t even thought about it and because of that, she was in about three inches of snow and ice, right in the middle of the left-hand lane. Anyone who came down the road with any sort of speed would probably have a hard time stopping and crash right into her. She glanced to the left and saw the broken tree and some power lines farther off the road. Getting over to the right-hand lane and off the road would be tricky, but it seemed like the best bet, so she carefully maneuvered the car, mindful of ice and the potential of getting stuck, and finally got it off the street.
What to do now? She had a bottle and a half of water and half a pack of old peanut butter crackers. It’d been hours since she’d eaten, so she was tempted, but decided to wait since she didn’t know how long she’d be out here. And she needed to keep her cell phone battery charged and didn’t want to use too much gas, so that left playing with her phone out. She leaned back in her seat, made sure the doors were locked, pulled her jacket tight around her, and tried to count the ice pellets.
A sharp rap on her window jolted her out of sleep, and she looked around wildly, her mind whirling as she tried to remember where she was.
“Verna, it’s me. Open up.”
She looked over at the passenger window and tried to make out the figure on the other side through the ice-encrusted glass.
“Joe?” she said.
“Yeah. Unlock the door.”
She quickly complied and he swiftly settled in the car, the space quickly filled by his large frame and the pack he carried.
“What are you doing here? How did you get here?” she asked, confused.
“Here, drink this. It’ll warm you up,” he said as he shoved a thermos in her direction.
She took it automatically, her brain still distracted with trying to process why and how he was here.
“Drink up, Verna,” he said and stared at her expectantly until she took a sip.
The slightly bitter liquid gave her a jolt, and though she wasn’t usually a fan of coffee, she appreciated the warmth that spread through her as she drank.
“What are you doing here?” she repeated after a few more sips.
“Did you think I was going to leave you alone in the cold?” he asked.
“Well…yes,” she finally responded.
“What kind of American hero would that make me?” he said with a smile. “I had to hump it, though. Trees are down all over the place, and I didn’t want to risk it with the truck. You up for a late-night stroll?”
“Sure, if the alternative is staying here for God knows how much longer,” she said, and then she took another sip.
He nodded. “Good. What shoes are you wearing?”
“Just my sneakers.”
“Figured,” he said with a snort. “Put these on.”
He handed her a pair of beaten-up boots and a couple pairs of thick socks.
“They’ll be too big, but I stuffed some socks in the toe, so it should work well enough to get you home.”
“Uh…okay,” she said.
The steering wheel—and her boobs; stupid things always got in the way—prevented her from reaching her feet, so she
opened the door and was immediately assaulted by a gust of cold wind and ice pellets. She stuck a foot out tentatively and then the other, but slipped when she tried to take her first step.
“Careful,” he called, and though she doubted he could see her, she made a face anyway.
After a couple slow steps, she made it inside the backseat and proceeded to discard her sneakers, which were already wet, even after just a few moments outside, and quickly donned the socks.
“These boots are fuckin’ heavy, man,” she observed as she stuck her left foot inside one.
“Yes, but you’ll appreciate them when your feet stay dry. Now hurry up. I want to get back before it gets too much later, though I guess it’s not critical. From the looks of it, power has already started going, so it’s going to be a dark walk back either way.”
“I’m ready,” she announced when she’d laced the second boot. They felt foreign on her feet, heavy and clunky and more than a little weird since she knew they were his, but her toes were definitely nice and cozy.
“Anything you need to take with you, grab it now. I don’t know when this will let up,” he said as he cast a searching glance at the sky and the ice and snow that still fell.
“Good thinking,” she said as she gathered her new fabric and her other personal belongings. They’d get wet, but maybe if she tucked the bag under her shirt and wrapped the jacket tight…
“Give me that,” Joe said gruffly, hand extended.
She handed the items over, grateful that he’d take them, even if she wouldn’t say so out loud.
“Let’s move,” he said.
Then he took the keys out of the ignition and exited the car. She followed, placing her weight on the odd-feeling boots with a touch of trepidation.
“How do they feel?” he called, somehow having made his way around the car before she’d even gotten out.
She stood on the slick ground and then stepped tentatively. “Heavy, like I said, but I can walk.”
He looked her over from head to toe, his face almost completely obscured by the darkness, the faint glow of the flashlight he held in one hand the only light in the shadow.
“That’s all you have to wear?” he asked, disgust ringing in his tone.
“Well, I didn’t expect to be gone very long,” she said defensively.
And while she hadn’t, she still knew how stupidly she’d behaved. None of this would have happened if she’d just stayed her happy ass at home like a smart person would’ve, and now Joe was stuck having to help her out. A wave of shame and embarrassment washed over her, and she turned her body slightly to face away from him.
After a brief rustle of fabric, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to look at him. He’d removed his heavy outer coat and now held it extended toward her.
“You said you only had a jacket, but I got distracted with the boots and forgot to bring an extra coat. Dumb.” He shook his head. “Here. Put this on.”
He was offering her his coat? In the middle of an ice and snowstorm? She couldn’t take it.
“Joe, I can’t take your coat,” she said, shaking her head. “You already did too much coming out here. I can’t ask you to walk back in the cold too.”
“Sure, Verna. I’ll just let you get hypothermia while I’m nice and toasty.”
The unspoken yeah right rang loud and clear.
“And I’m supposed to let you get it instead?” she said. “I won’t.”
The shiver that racked her body immediately after she finished speaking probably didn’t help her cause.
“Damnit, stop arguing with me!”
“You gonna make me drop and give you twenty if I don’t?” she couldn’t help but say, a giggle following her words despite the seriousness of the situation.
The death glare he threw at her pierced the darkness and hit her full force, and she stifled the laugh, though she still smiled.
“I have the Thinsulate lining, which will be plenty if I don’t have to stand out here all night arguing with you. Now put on the goddamned coat, Verna. And make sure you pull the hood tight. There are gloves in the pocket,” he said, tossing the coat at her.
“Sir, yes, sir,” she said automatically as she caught it.
He practically growled, and she made haste to put the coat on, making extra sure to tighten the hood. It was huge on her, which shouldn’t have been surprising since it had to fit Joe and Joe was freakin’ enormous. But still, she’d always worried about clothes, coats included, being too small, so this was a novel experience. As was pulling on the gloves from the pocket. They were made out of thin material, but her hands were immediately warmed when she pulled them on, and she was again surprised that they were extra roomy, had space to fit her wide hands and long fingers with room left over. She tried to ignore that little tingle in her belly at being encased in Joe’s shoes, wrapped in his coat, basically surrounded by him. But, much as she wished otherwise, knowing that she was wearing his things, touching where he’d touched, warmed her blood, warmed her almost as much as the coffee and the clothing.
And thank goodness it was dark and she was wrapped up tight. She knew from the tingling pull at her breasts that her nipples were diamond hard, and were it not for the thick coat, Joe would have known it as well. But now was not the time for that, and she was too flattered that he’d gone to all this trouble for her to be distracted.
“Look, Joe, I’m the Abominable Snowman. Rawr,” she said.
He smiled and let out a grudging laugh.
“Let’s go, silly woman,” he said, and they set off toward home.
Chapter Eight
Joe set a moderate pace for the journey back. He could have gone faster, much, much faster, but he wanted to make sure Verna could keep up. And, somewhat impressively, she did for the most part. About halfway through the trip, she lost her footing and went sliding, arms flailing with the effort to keep herself upright. He grabbed her around the waist to steady her, and once she’d regained her footing, she looked over at him before quickly looking away, the fleeting glance that he’d gotten of her face revealing her embarrassment.
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “You went all this way to help me, the least I could do is not crush you. I make no promises, but I’ll yell ‘timber’ and try to fall left next time.” She let out an embarrassed-sounding laugh and then they crunched away in silence.
“You do that a lot, you know?” he said a few moments later.
“I’m clumsy, have been forever,” she said distractedly.
“Not that, Verna. You put yourself down all the time.”
“That’s not true,” she said. “I simply have an objective perspective of who I am, something most people don’t, and I’m brave enough to acknowledge my shortcomings, something most people can’t do,” she continued, her voice ringing with conviction.
“Objective? Not by a mile.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, glancing over at him quickly before turning her eyes back to the road.
“Well, let’s look at what just happened ‘objectively,’ to borrow your word: You were walking over ice in shoes that are too big, and you slipped on said ice. An objective person would say, ‘Gee, it seems likely that a person walking on ice in shoes that are too big might be likely to slip.’ But not you. No, you take a simple mishap, something that was almost an inevitability, and turn it into a reflection of personal failing. That’s not objective.”
“Bullshit,” she said.
“How so?”
“For starters, you haven’t slipped, not even once. You could be on a fuckin’ frolic right now.”
“I’m a well-oiled machine forged in the fire of battle. Mortals slip; I do not.”
“Oh God, I just threw up in my mouth,” she said around mock gagging noises.
They laughed for a moment. “But we aren’t talking about me.”
“Okay, so I’ll grant you that in these conditions it’s possible that we mere mortals could slip. The thing that sets me apart is that I
always slip. Rain, shine, sleet, or snow. If it is possible to do something stupid, buffoonish, or embarrassing, I will do it. I can try my hardest, but it doesn’t matter. If it can be fucked up, Verna Love will fuck it up.”
“You just did it again. And, more to the point, I’ve known you how long?”
“Too long!” they said in unison, her again looking over at him with a smile on her face.
“See, I’m predictable too,” she said.
“You just did it again. I’ve known you for a pretty good amount of time now, and you don’t seem particularly disastrous to me.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No,” he said.
“This walk isn’t long enough for me to count the ways, but trust me, I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you more than enough. You might have been too distracted to notice, but it’s happened. And I fuckin’ promise on everything I love that I will kill you where you stand if you bring up my birthday or that other thing.”
“Why do you swear so much?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject.
“It’s a sign of a simple mind. I mostly just stick to the words I know, and I didn’t make it too far past the four-letter variety.”
“Verna, you just put yourself down again.”
“See, told you I’m a fuckup.”
“And again,” he said, glancing over at her.
“I’m stubborn too. A great thing to mix with stupid.”
“Verna, stop it,” he said and she went quiet.
“Maybe one day I’ll get it right,” she said wistfully after a few more steps.
He didn’t respond, didn’t really know how to. Verna thought she was objective, but she really had no clue, and if this walk had shown him anything, it was that the pit of pain inside her ran deep, deeper than he’d ever thought, even after her birthday confession. He’d run into her parents several times at the restaurant, knew her father was a jerk but still thought they seemed nice enough, but he couldn’t fathom why they hadn’t noticed that their daughter carried a well of self-hate inside of her deep enough to drown in. Why hadn’t he noticed it?