Snow Day

by Shannon Stacey, Jennifer Greene

  “That sucks,” Red said.

  “You’re not kidding. It sucks, sucks, sucks.”

  “I wish I had some answers,” Red admitted, and then turned to Whitney. “Any ideas?”

  It took a second before she realized he was talking to her. Watching him with April was jerking her heart strings. They hadn’t discussed the child’s situation ahead of time; neither knew her, neither had any kind of power over what would happen in the child’s life—nor should they. But Red seemed to instinctively feel protective of the child the way she did. Neither wanted to just drop April off in a situation that made her so unhappy.

  “April...I do have one idea.” She sat on the floor, next to Red. “When you first see your parents, I think you should tell them why you ran away. What you wanted.”

  April considered this. “I guess what I wanted was to get their attention. I thought maybe they’d get back together if I did something...big.”

  Whitney nodded. “I understand. But here’s the thing. You told me your mom and dad couldn’t seem to quit fighting. Maybe they won’t get back together, maybe they can’t. But everything would get better if they could stop fighting, wouldn’t it?”

  “Oh, yeah. Way better,” April agreed.

  “So you could be a little sneaky. You could tell them that you ran away to get their attention. But then you figured out running away was a bad idea. It didn’t fix anything. It just got you in a bigger mess. And you know that now. So you want to talk about what’s bothering you. And you want them to talk to you. Instead of just pretending everything’s okay.”

  April frowned, considering.

  Whitney said, “You could do it like this. You could say, ‘I won’t run away anymore. If you two don’t run away, either.’”

  “Oh. Oh. I can do that. I get you now. You’re saying like I ran away for real. But they’ve been running away, too. Even if they didn’t run out the door and hide, like me. They’re just running away from talking to me. And talking with all of us together.”

  “You got it.”

  Red’s pager went off. The call was from April’s mom—the sheriff had allowed her to use the emergency line so she could talk to her daughter. Initially April froze, didn’t want to talk to anyone but Whitney and Red, but they coaxed her into it. And while she huddled in the old rocker with the dog and Red’s cell phone, all curled up...Red got this look in his eyes.

  A look that worried her.

  The dog lifted his head, as if sensing something monumental was about to happen. But it was only Red, hooking his arms on Whitney’s shoulders, pressing his forehead to hers.

  “You were terrific with her.”

  “I didn’t really know what to say.”

  “Yeah, you did. You looked at her and tried to voice how she was feeling, how she was hurting.”

  His appreciation gave her a warm glow, but she was still troubled by how he looked at her. Red had never been much for analyzing heavy, deep feelings, but his grave expression suggested that’s exactly where his head was. Gut-serious, heart-serious issues were on his mind.

  “I’m going to end up having to take April back right now, aren’t I?” he asked, but it was a rhetorical question. They both guessed how the phone conversation was going to go between April and her mother.

  “I’m guessing yes. If I were the mom and my child was missing, I wouldn’t want to hear any excuses. I’d want my kid in my arms right now.”

  “I need to talk to you, Whitney.”

  “And I need to talk to you, too.”

  “It can’t happen until we’re alone. So I’ll take her back. But I need to know that you won’t leave. Until I get back here. Until we have that talk.”

  “How long are you planning to be gone?”

  A clutched frown creased his forehead. She could see it in his face. “I don’t know. I want to say I’ll be back immediately. But I can’t swear what’ll happen when I take her home. My plan is to be no longer than a couple hours, max. But I have no way to be sure.”

  “Of course you don’t.”

  April skipped over between them, full of information after talking with her mom. Mrs. Shuster had been moved into town—to a bed-and-breakfast on the south side that now had power. So Red was going to take her there—with the dog, at least temporarily—and her dad was going to be there, too.

  The child was beaming at this turn of events. Whitney hugged her, but over April’s head, she looked straight at Red. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Red...that one time. There were no strings.”

  “There are for me. And there’s something I need to give you.”

  “I don’t want or need anything.”

  “What are you two talking about?” April lifted her head. “It’s okay to take me back to my mom now. Can we go?”

  “Yup. Get your jacket and stuff on. I’m taking you and Copper. Leave whatever else you had here.”

  “Copper could be worried about this,” the little one said gravely.

  “Just Copper’s worried, huh? Well, I’ll stay with both you and Copper when we get there and make sure everything’s cool.” But he looked at Whitney the whole time he was helping April gather up her gear, find her boots, untangle her hair from under her hat.

  “Whit.” Again his voice turned slow and soft. “The reason I shut us down was stupid. I didn’t know that then, but I know it now. I’m just asking you to stay until I show you something.”

  Once he left with April and the dog, Whitney paced the living room like a caged cat. She was the one who’d initiated their lovemaking. She knew that. But that didn’t explain anything he’d said or done. How he looked at her. How he was with her. What “thing” he could conceivably want to show her.

  She hadn’t trusted her heart since leaving Tucker’s Point ten years ago, and it seemed that coming home had brought her to the same precipice. He could so easily break her heart...again.

  Too anxious to sit, she waited until the sun came up. Within an hour, it had climbed the horizon and shone blindingly bright on the snowy landscape. The temperature was still bitter, but she went outside in stretches to start working on her rental car. Beneath a thick frosting of snow, the whole car was encased in ice, but once she managed to open a door, she started the engine, ran defrosters and heat, plugged in her cell phone.

  No one was on the road yet. There were no signs of movement anywhere. She could see two massive drifts still blocking Route 1, but a few swipes with a serious snowplow would fix that, so if that was the worst of the road blockage, she’d be able to leave before long.

  The thought put a lump in her throat the size of a mountain.

  She headed for the door—she had to go inside, her hands were frozen—and to her shock, found the overhead light glaring in the living room.

  There couldn’t be power. The electricity had been shut off all these months. Red, she thought. He must have done something. Or maybe the emergency team had a way to test the power in the whole grid? She didn’t understand it, but once she found water running in the kitchen sink, she couldn’t care less about the why. The water was cold, but it was still running water. She could do some serious cleaning now. Run her grandparents’ antiquated vacuum in the living area. Brush her teeth. Really brush her teeth. Wash her face and hands and body with real soap and water—and she didn’t care if she got frostbite; it felt so good to be clean again.

  After all that, there was still no sign of Red.

  From the front window, she saw lights, then heard noise. Snow plows. Two of them. Dealing with the drifts on Route 1.

  She layered up again, to start filling up the trunk with all the clothing and belongings she’d brought with her. She hesitated when it came to her grandmother’s wooden chest.

  Gram had chosen to keep her first love a secret all these years. No different than Whitney neve
r sharing what had happened between herself and Red.

  That thought put another lump in her throat, but she kept moving. The only thing she planned to leave in the house was the propane heater, because she had no real use for it in Philadelphia. Her energy flagged by mid-afternoon, but slowly, unexpectedly she seemed to be building up a fresh head of steam.

  Maybe she was dog-tired, but her temper seemed to pick up a whole chimney full of steam.

  She never got mad. She hated getting mad. She was thinking about prom night, ten years ago, as if it were yesterday. She recalled exactly where he’d taken her after the prom. What he said when he’d severed their relationship.

  She hadn’t demanded solid answers then, hadn’t fought him. She was too stunned, had never seen it coming. And later, she was certain he’d change his mind. She’d waited and waited for him to call, positive that he would at least give her some explanation.

  And here she was, waiting and waiting and waiting for him. Who knew if he’d come? Who knew if he just assumed she’d wait around—like she had before. Like she’d just be there for him—like she had been before.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SHE’D LEFT. RED just knew it. A bunch of roads had been cleared; power was back through the whole grid; she was way overdue for her job, had clients expecting an office proposal this week; she couldn’t even call to let them know why it was late. And like everyone else in Tucker’s Point, would probably kill for a hot shower. And another hot shower. And maybe even a third.

  He turned onto Route 1, glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror and winced. The right side of his face... Well, the eye wasn’t completely swollen shut. And once the bandage had been taped on, the bloody goose egg was covered up. There was one advantage to showing up at two in the morning. By daylight, he was undoubtedly going to look a whole lot worse.

  For the first time since the blizzard began, he was driving his four-wheel-drive pickup instead of Betsy. The truck had a blade in front, so he’d be able to clear out her driveway—and take her with him, if she’d come. But that was assuming she hadn’t already left. After all these hours, she must have thought he wasn’t coming. She must have thought... Hell. He didn’t know what she’d thought.

  He only knew what he’d been thinking about. What he wanted. What he needed. For her and with her.

  His jaw tightened the instant her driveway came into view. Her rental car had been dug out, and she’d shoveled the walk and driveway herself. It looked as if she was well prepared to take off any second—but at least she was still there for now.

  He parked fast, tucked the locked leather satchel under his arm and charged toward the house. She must have been watching for him, because she yanked open the front door before he’d even reached the porch. With a quick glance, he noticed she was wearing cords and a quilted down jacket, her hair tidied up in a hair band.

  She definitely hadn’t been sleeping. She not only looked ready to fly, but the gleam in her eyes was all hot-blue fire.... At least until she caught a glimpse of his face.

  “Good grief—what happened to you?”

  Since she motioned him inside—he hadn’t been sure she’d let him in—he did his best to look pitiful. “I was trying to be a knight in shining armor, only it didn’t work out. This lady saw her road had been plowed, and immediately tried to get out. She not only got stuck, but her car careened into a snow drift, and her two kids were in the backseat....”

  He set down the satchel on the coffee table. For him it was a little like an elephant in the living room, but one crisis at a time. The sharp fury in her eyes was starting to fade. She swooped closer to get a better look at his face. “You had to get stitches!” she accused him.

  “I know. Five. And they sting like a...” He swallowed the term he was thinking of. “They sting. A lot. Anyway, the two kids were screaming and crying—they were all scared the car was going to turn over. Which it could have. I got everybody out, pulled the car out of the drift. And then... I can’t even explain what happened. I walked around the back of the car, just to check what kind of damage there was. There were trees there, and a chunk of snow crashed on my head. I guess it was mostly ice. Sharp ice. Who’d have thought ice could cut like that? And the only part of the story that really matters is this—Whitney, I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

  She scowled at him, backed away as if he’d suddenly developed bad breath—when he knew perfectly well that he’d cleaned up and brushed his teeth before coming here.

  Her right forefinger shot up. She started shaking it. In his face. “I thought we were in love. I thought you were the most important person in my world. And that you felt that way about me. We had plans. We were too young to get married, but we were both headed for U of M. You had that terrific athletic scholarship. I had fancy grades. Between the two of us—”

  He backed up, not avoiding the finger she was shaking in his face, but to ease closer to the leather satchel. “Whitney. That was all true.”

  “And suddenly you blew me off.”

  “No. It wasn’t suddenly. It was prom night. After the prom. We’d left the dance, went to the bluffs, just sat on the rocks for a while. Talking. Just talking. You told me about the scholarship you’d gotten from Smith.” He plunked down on the couch, fished the small brass key from his jeans.

  She frowned, as if just noticing the satchel—or as if she didn’t understand why he was sitting down, but she abruptly sat, too. “That wasn’t news, Red. You knew I was accepted at Smith months before that.”

  “Yeah. But that was a dream. A pipe dream. Something you really wanted, but never thought you could have. Until the news about that full academic scholarship came through. And that made everything different, because that put us on two different planets. U of M was the only school I could get into. Because I never had close to your grades.”

  “So what? We were both happy with the plan!”

  “No. I was happy. But I always knew you were sacrificing because of me. Your dream was to have a bigger life, starting with an Ivy League education. And here’s the thing, Whitney. I was wrong. Dead-wrong.”

  She bowed her head. When he couldn’t see her expression, his pulse started thumping in time to his panic.

  “Look,” he said. “That’s how I thought then. That if I loved you, I’d do what was right for you, no matter what it cost me. I know it’s corny as hell. But I wanted to be your hero. You always felt like the odd one in your family. No matter what you did, you couldn’t please them. That was a big thing for you.”

  “I remember.”

  Red clawed a hand through his hair. Maybe she remembered, but her voice was vague and distracted, as if she was thinking about a grocery list.

  “So that’s why I thought it mattered. I wasn’t like your family. I loved you for yourself. I didn’t want to change anything about you. I cared about your goals and dreams. I didn’t want you to be anyone but you.”

  He waited for her to respond, but her head was still bowed. He pushed the words out faster. “I get it. That I was wrong. I should have asked you what you wanted. Instead of just doing what I thought was the right thing. And the reason I know how stupid that was...was because I lost you. Whitney, for God’s sake, you’re giving me a heart attack. Talk to me!”

  She immediately lifted her head. He saw the tears brimming in her eyes.

  “Wait. Don’t cry. Let me explain some more.”

  Her lips parted, but she had to swallow before she could speak. Her hands were filled with the contents of the leather satchel. Letters he’d written to her, but never sent. A small candle that smelled like white camellias. A white shell comb she’d worn in her hair on prom night. The heel of a shoe—she’d broken it on one of their first dates. A snapshot from a mall photo booth—her looking beautiful, him looking like a lovesick calf. An overgrown, lovesick calf. A vial of sand, from
the dunes where they always went for privacy. A handful of ribbons—she was always tying back her hair with ribbons, always losing them. A red leaf, pressed in a book; it was a fall day when he’d kissed her the first time...they’d been ambling through the crunchy leaves, holding hands, talking nonstop about nothing, and then he’d stopped. And kissed her. And his whole world changed.

  “See?” he said desperately. “That’s what I wanted to show you. That I had a box, like your grandmother had...”

  Her eyes met his. It was going to be all right. He could breathe again; he could see it in her eyes, in the way she looked at him. They were both making soft, huge promises about the future.

  She lifted her hands, took his. Ten years had passed. Okay, maybe it was just ten seconds, but it was a long ten seconds before she leaned over and kissed him. It was an eyes-closed, velvet-soft, honey-sweet kiss.

  At least the first one was.

  But she leaned back for a moment, still holding on to him, still looking at him with that fierce expression. “When I saw what was in my grandmother’s box, do you know what I thought?”

  “What?”

  “That I understood. How she could go on and have a good life with my grandfather. But her first love was everything. I understood, Red, because that’s exactly how I’ve always felt. You weren’t just my first love. The love we had together was...incomparable. Heart-filling. Precious. More precious than anything in my world, then or now.”

  He whispered, “Exactly. I locked up everything I still had of you. Kept it closer than a secret. I can’t lose you again.”

  “Ah, Red. I’m beginning to see that we never lost each other. We just didn’t know it.”

  He reached for her. The world wouldn’t survive another second if he didn’t get his hands on her, his lips on hers, his body folded against hers. He bent his head, offered a kiss, soft and long and slow. Then hunkered down for some serious kissing. Wooing kisses. Treasuring kisses. Kisses of promise, of trust, of loving awe for each other.