Snow Day

by Shannon Stacey, Jennifer Greene

  By the time she got back in the house, her fingers were numb, her cheeks were apple-red and her eyelashes felt frozen solid. She was shivering too hard to get her jacket off.

  For just a few minutes, she sank down by the couch, her back to the heater. Her charges were both fast asleep, the mutt at one end of the couch, April at the other. She just wanted a few minutes to warm up, get some feeling back in her hands.... She had no memory of dropping off, until a rap on the door startled her awake.

  She’d been curled up on the carpet with her head on the couch next to April. Her muscles felt cramped and stiff, but at the sound of the knock, she bounced to her feet. Instinct ruled over sense.

  She ran to the door and hurled it open, an exuberant “Red!” already out of her mouth...when she abruptly realized that it wasn’t Red at all.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE STRANGER LOOKED dumbfounded when she greeted him with wide open arms, but she dropped them quickly, and once he started talking, that initial embarrassing moment eased. It just never occurred to her that anyone but Red would stop by.

  The man wasn’t particularly tall, but he had thirty years on Red, eyes that were a soft, kind blue, and a naturally reassuring smile.

  “I’m Frank Hart, miss. I’m an extra on the auxiliary team. Saw the red blanket. Figured you were sending an SOS.”

  “I was. I am. The missing girl—April Shuster—she’s here. She’s safe, she’s okay. Come in, out of the cold. Where’s Red?”

  “He got caught up—a store in town, the roof caved in, debris all over Oak Street. It had to be cleared right away, because it was blocking access to the school and health services. So Red’s Betsy is on that. I’ve got my Massey snowblower, so I can pretty much get anywhere, but I can’t clear away debris the way Red’s equipment can. He’ll get free at some point, but while I was doing my side of Pine, thought I’d trek this way, make sure his section was covered. So you found April?”

  “Yes. She’s here. Sleeping.” She motioned him in.

  Frank entered, but only far enough to shut the door. He pulled off his hat and unbuttoned his jacket, but he seemed determined to park on the front door mat and not intrude any farther. He spotted the two sleeping bodies on the couch, shook his head.

  “Her parents have been beside themselves.”

  “So I heard.” She relayed the story of how April and the dog had holed up in the fruit cellar, eating from jars of fruit and vegetables. “She’s dirty, and she was really hungry, but overall, I think she was amazingly resourceful. She managed to keep herself warm enough and safe. I can’t see any sign of illness or harm.”

  He stepped closer quietly, assessing the girl, the dog, the room and then turned back to her.

  “I guess I can take her to the school shelter. Afraid it won’t be the most comfortable trip in my tractor—”

  Whitney interrupted without thinking. “I think she should stay here.”

  Frank raised his eyebrows in question.

  “I know. It’s not my right to say. But she’s really unhappy about her parents divorcing. That’s why she ran away. And I think it’d be better if she knows, before she leaves here, where both of them are. What’s going to happen to her. And besides, she’s really attached to the dog.”

  The older man hesitated. “Whitney? Ms. Brennan. You really know she should go to the school, don’t you? You don’t have food or running water here. And there’re liability issues.”

  “I know. I know. I’m in the wrong. But I have make-do food for a couple of days yet, and even though I can’t get her clean, I can keep her warm. And she’ll be able to stay with the dog for a little longer.” She tried her most soulful eyes on him. “You don’t really want to wake her up in the middle of the night, do you? Drag her out in the cold? Take her to that huge school, when we don’t even know where her parents are right now?”

  He sighed. “Anyone ever tell you you’ve got a soft heart?”

  “I’ll be happy to hand her over when it’s time. But...she was unhappy and scared, and she won’t be while she’s with me. I just—”

  “Ayuh. You got a soft heart. I get it.” He sighed. “All right. I’ll radio in to the school pronto. Make sure the parents know she’s safe first off. And then the next volunteer this way can bring you more food—and dog food to boot. Last weather report claimed the blow and the snow will both stop by late this afternoon. Of course, a lot of cleanup before people can get back to their houses or get supplies. But it won’t be that long before power starts coming back. We’re on the right end of the storm, finally.”

  Her heart clutched. Of course, she knew the storm couldn’t go on forever, but she assumed she’d have another full day. And with all the work Red had been doing, he had to be beyond exhausted. It hit her heart like a blow—what if she didn’t see him once the roads were cleared? She had to get home, to her job. She had to communicate with her family. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have to hightail it out of here as soon as possible.

  Mr. Hart was yanking on his hat again, pulling out his gloves. He glanced at the little girl, then back at her. “She’s lucky she found you.”

  “More like I’m the lucky one.”

  “Ayuh. I know Red. Remember you two in high school. Girls flocked after him, but you, you were the only one with sweetness in you, and he never looked at a soul after he found you. I knew Red’s dad. He saw the same.”

  Her cheeks flushed. “Good grief. I can’t believe you’d remember either of us.”

  “Well, my son was two years younger than you two. So I was around the school a lot. And you know Tucker’s Point. Once the ‘summer complaints’ are gone, we get to huddle back into our own little community and watch over each other.”

  She’d forgotten that Mainers used “summer complaints” to describe the tourists.

  “Frank...when Red’s dad died, where did his mom and sisters go?”

  “Oh, now. She bolted for Portland before his stone was set in the ground. Couldn’t bear the idea of another Maine winter alone, as she put it. Both she and the younger girl wanted more of a city life.” A wry grin creased his cheeks. “She calls him all the time.”

  “Red?”

  “Ayuh. She always did. If he doesn’t answer on a first ring, she’s likely to call the whole town until she locates him. He’s good to his mother, very good, but he doesn’t jump when she calls. It’s like all family. There’s always one that drives the rest crazy.”

  “That’s so true,” she murmured, thinking about her sister and her mom. But she’d never thought of Red having female relatives who badgered him. Red always seemed so easy with family. With everyone. She’d never seen him lose his temper, or talk anyone down. It just wasn’t his way.

  “Well, here I am gossiping, and I need to be back on the road. If someone isn’t heading in this direction in a matter of hours, I’ll come back myself, make sure you’ve got those extra supplies before long. Not to worry. I don’t suppose there’s a chance you might move into your grandparents’ house?”

  She felt an odd lump in her throat. “I love this old house.”

  “It’s a sound one.”

  “But I have a job in Philadelphia.”

  “I understand. Just hard for me and the missus to think about strangers living here. Our grandfather, he loved the ocean. As did your father. I guess for some the sea renews a soul, and for some, it’s just salt water.”

  She chuckled. “If that isn’t a Maine saying, it should be.”

  After she closed the door and watched his red tractor back out of the driveway, she stood there for long minutes, feeling oddly bemused and restless. She didn’t know Frank. But she did. The core people who lived here always seemed to accept each other. Watch out for their neighbors. And she’d never thought about it, but what he’d said was true. The people who loved out here were tho
se who valued the sea, who took strength from it. A storm was just a storm. It didn’t take away from the natural wonder of the ocean.

  She spun around, absently rubbed the back of her neck, thinking that somehow, she’d finally figured it out.

  She had to see Red, for certain, before leaving Tucker’s Point.

  She’d waited for him before, a long time ago...and he never came through. But this time, she wanted clear answers from him.

  And she wasn’t leaving without them.

  * * *

  PREDAWN, RED staggered into the school, so tired he could hardly put one foot in front of the other. Inside was a world of warmth and quiet. He passed by the gym where cots were filled up with storm refugees. The only bright lights in sight came from the cafeteria kitchen—where, of course, he immediately headed.

  A lone body stood near the sink counter. Mrs. Bartholomew—or Mrs. B, as kids had called her for generations—was the retired school cook who invariably manned the kitchen in times of crisis. In looks, she was a Mrs. Claus clone, plump and round, with wild white hair and pink cheeks.

  She was a good cook, but tart. Like he’d done dozens of times since first grade, he found a tray of cookies cooling on the counter...and she slapped his hand with a spoon before he could steal his first bite.

  “That’s beyond cruel,” he told her.

  “You were a wicked little boy, and here you’re grown up and you’re still a thief.”

  “Hey. Only of cookies. Your cookies.”

  She scowled when he stole another one, but she didn’t slap him this time. “You’ve got circles under your eyes bigger than craters. Do you really need an eighty-two-year-old woman to tell you that you seriously need sleep?”

  “Nope. I knew that. I just can’t quite fit in rest yet. I need a special care package from you.”

  “I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, you know.” Mrs. B paced over to the far stainless-steel counter, where she had assorted boxes taped up. “Dog food, enough for two days. Kibble, but also two soup bones and a rawhide toy. Then for the little girl, mac and cheese—it’ll stay warm through lunch. Peanut butter and banana sandwiches. Cookies. An apple and a peach. Milk and juice boxes. Then for Whitney—bless her heart for looking after those two. Such a sweet one. Good to know she’s back here, but I wish she’d stay. And I wish you’d had the brains to marry her when you had the chance.”

  Thankfully, she had to take a breath, so he could get a word in. “I never had the chance.”

  “You’re an adult. You make the chance. Don’t give me excuses. And the point being that I made a little tenderloin for her—not fancy, can’t cook that fancy in a school kitchen, but I fussed a bit with some rubbings and a little orange tarragon sauce—”

  “All this, with everything else you’re doing?”

  “Why do you think there are so many ovens in a school kitchen? Don’t answer that. If you had a brain, you wouldn’t have asked. Point is, there’s enough for two. I hope she eats it all, but conceivably there’s enough for you. And I was doing a warm winter lemon cake, so I cut a few pieces ahead for a nice dessert. No salad. There’s no more fresh food until we’re over this storm. But I’m guessing you could scare up a bottle of nice wine, if you thought about it.”

  “I already thought about it.”

  “What you need is sleep. Quit gallivanting around town. The snow’ll wait now. No one asked you to kill yourself.”

  “But I need to take the food and supplies—”

  “No, you don’t. I heard three others offer. But no, you wouldn’t have anyone going there but you. What you’re forgetting, though, is that you’re going over there with bags under your eyes and whiskers and the same clothes you’ve been wearing all day. Ask me, that’s no way to set up a nice dinner, but what do I know? I’m only eighty-two.”

  “Can I kiss you on the cheek, or are you going to hit me again?”

  “Get out of here. I have a breakfast to put on for some seventy people in a couple hours. You think I have time to chitchat with you all morning?”

  He risked his life and another tongue lashing to give her a thank-you kiss on the cheek, then packed up his loot and headed back outside.

  The cold and wind were getting old. The slap of icy air gave him a temporary brace of energy, but he knew he couldn’t keep on much longer without sleep. Still, Whitney and the little girl—and apparently a dog—needed food. And he needed to see Whitney.

  Even if he was exhausted to the point of coma, he needed to see Whitney.

  Betsy had been plugged in and fueled, but she still did a lot of gasping and groaning, turning onto Route 1. She’d had enough of battling the elements, too.

  He’d heard the whole story from Frank, about April and the dog and how Whitney had taken them in and asked for help with the flapping red blanket. Frank told him about how pretty Whitney looked—even prettier than when she was in high school. How she’d missed the town and her grandparents’ house. How she’d given the girl the couch to sleep on, and she’d been more or less bedded down on the floor when he’d come by. How she’d run to open the door and was apparently planning to put her arms around him—except that she wasn’t expecting Frank, but obviously someone else.

  Red dwelled on that story, replayed it in his head a few more times.

  He’d listened hard to the weather before taking off. The wind was supposed to disappear, go on to terrorize Newfoundland and the upper Atlantic coast. By the dinner hour, power would hopefully be restored on the south side of town. Snow was still drifting down, but it was the last sputter of the storm’s bad temper. Drifts were still a menace, some fifteen feet or higher, swirling in roads, burying doors, snugging up to every crevice and corner. The town couldn’t be plowed out in a day. Probably not for several days.

  But Route 1 would be cleared first. Fresh food and gas would start coming on regular schedules. Businesses would reopen. Dentists could start drilling again, and teachers would soon be stuck with their herd of cabin-fever-stricken kids. And everyone who wanted to—including Whitney—would be able to get out of town, to get to airports or work or wherever they needed to go.

  She’d be able to leave him.

  Unless he could find some way to make her stay.

  * * *

  WHITNEY NEVER EXPECTED to go back to sleep, but she’d curled up on the couch with April and must have dozed, because a sudden sound woke her. For a moment she couldn’t move, between the weight of the dog on her feet and her arms tangled around the little girl.

  But she didn’t need to move, anyway. It was a nice dream, finding Red standing there. Smiling. “Don’t move. Just sleep,” he said softly. “It’s still really, really early. I brought food and supplies, but nothing that won’t wait.”

  Apparently she drifted off again, because the next time she opened her eyes, Red was still there. Lying on the carpet with a jacket for a pillow and an afghan covering him—more or less. He was sleeping on his stomach, as if he’d crashed that way and never moved. His cheek was developing a noticeably scratchy beard. He looked drawn and exhausted.

  He looked adorable.

  “Whitney?” April, still spooned against her, turned wide awake in a flash. She whispered, “Is he lost, too?”

  “No, honey, he came to bring us food and supplies.”

  “What kind of food?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m guessing it’s something he thinks you’ll like.”

  April frowned. “Is he going to take me away after that? Can’t I just stay right here? With you?”

  “Let’s wait until he wakes up. Then we’ll all talk about what needs to happen next, okay?”

  For a while, though, it was obvious a tornado couldn’t wake him. Whitney and her adopted household all roused. The humans used the bathroom, the dog had to be let out, then in, a toothbrush crea
ted for April, then a cleanup. After that, she rummaged in the containers Red had brought in, gave the dog kibble and then the soup bone. She and April investigated the people food.

  Once April found the mac and cheese, she turned into a deliriously happy girl—which was about when Red finally woke, shook himself like a growly bear and honed in on the fresh Thermos of coffee faster than a hound for a bone. April gave him a wide berth, parking next to Whitney on the couch, clearly anxious about what was going to happen to her.

  But Red seemed to sense that, pulled over an ottoman and plunked down with his hands wrapped around the Thermos mug. He brought up one touchy issue at a time. “I talked to the family that the dog belongs to, April. They did a lot of thinking about this. They love their dog. And they don’t really want to give him up. But if your parents agree—and you all need to be sure about this—the folks think you might need Copper more than they do. Especially as he seems so attached to you.”

  “I do need him. A lot. And he loves me.”

  “Okay, we’ll see what your parents say. Right now, we have something else we need to talk about.”

  April was no dunce. She answered the question before he could ask it. “I want to stay here. Forever. With Whitney.”

  Red exchanged a look with her, but quickly faced April again. “That’s not one of the options we have,” he said gently. “Both your parents have been crazy with worry. They were thrilled to hear you were okay. Your mom doesn’t have power yet and she isn’t likely to for another day or maybe two. But your dad’s apartment got power back a few hours ago.”

  “So you’re saying I have to go to my dad’s.”

  Red shot another look at Whitney, but he didn’t duck the problem. “April, right now I want to hear what you want.”

  “I don’t know. I’m just tired of divorce. If I go to Dad’s, he’ll have to work, so he won’t have time for me. And now that Mom’s working, she doesn’t have time for me, either. No matter what I do, I can’t make them happy. No matter how good I try to be, nobody really wants me there. Nobody laughs with me anymore.”