by Amanda Tru
It wasn’t likely they’d get much sleep.
Ada shifted in the plush leather chair, grateful their benefactors had chosen this particular theater. After a few small stretches, she rolled onto her side and looked at Kent. Stretched out on his side, his gaze caressed her face, a strange look in his eyes she couldn’t decipher.
He extended his hand and brushed a stray clump of bangs that had fallen over one eye. She liked that he hadn’t put down the armrest between them. She appreciated it even more when he slid that same hand behind her and rolled her so her back was to his front. She snuggled in a little closer, relishing the way his arm closed over her. Intimate, without crossing any boundaries. Warm. Safe.
Home.
She blinked long and slow and drifted into the peace.
Fire ants crawled along the nerves inside his left arm as Kent became acutely aware of a different sensation, one he hadn’t experienced in years. A warm body pressed against him, breathing evenly in the circle of his arms.
It had been eons since he’d slept next to a woman he cared for, but his body remembered. Rein it in, man. Neither the time nor the place.
She stirred, letting out a breathy sound that had him redoubling his efforts to direct his thoughts anywhere else.
“Mr. Clark?” A small voice on his other side made him jump. Kent grinned inwardly. Would they ever get used to calling him something less formal?
Ada bolted upright with confusion written across her face. Maybe those were just pressure marks from where his shirtsleeve had been her pillow.
“You okay, Kare Bear?” Ada started to yawn, darted her gaze to him, and quickly covered her mouth with widened eyes. Kent swallowed a laugh. They both probably had terrible breath. She needn’t worry.
“I have to go again.” Karalee shifted her weight from right foot to left.
Ada squinted, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “‘Kay,” she yawned.
Kent lowered the footrest on his seat to make it easier for her to get through. She murmured her thanks as she wobbled past. He smiled, watching them leave the screening room hand in hand. In many ways, Karalee seemed much younger than nine.
Xander and Jane were still out cold. Kent envied the teens’ ability to sleep soundly in public. He’d managed a couple hours, none deep. Granted, he’d underestimated how distracting it would be having Ada sleeping so close. Torn between dreams of the future and tempting thoughts of the present, sleeping beside her had been sweet torture.
Kent let his gaze wander the crowded theater. It wasn’t packed the way it had been during the movie last night. Where had the others spent the remainder of their night? Had the snowing ceased?
He’d go and check out the windows in the lobby if it wouldn’t require him to leave Xander and Jane. Sure, they were responsible teenagers, but they weren’t his teenagers.
Maybe there’d be news updates online. A quick prayer that his battery still had some juice, he switched it out of the power-saving airplane mode and tapped the screen to find what he needed to know. Sure enough, the city had been blasted by an unprecedented snowfall that took everyone by surprise. Most of the area was shut down as crews scrambled to prioritize road-sanding and rescue efforts on the biggest holiday of the year.
How long would they be stuck here? One question, followed by a host of others that would have to remain unanswered.
Kent yawned, tucked his phone back into his pocket, and closed his eyes. Just a few more minutes. That was all he needed.
That was all he got, too. Adaline and Karalee returned shortly after he’d slipped into a light rest. Squinting, he took in Ada’s look of determination. Something was on her mind, but what?
Before he could ask, she looked away and focused on her kids, then scanned the stadium-style rows of people whispering or sleeping. Her brow furrowed.
Jaw set in a determined line, she looked back to Kent. “I have to do something to help. There are so many people. They’ll wake up hungry and frustrated. I’m good at organizing. Maybe I can help the staff come up with a plan.”
Kent’s lips curved on one side. “That’s a great idea. Let the kids sleep. I’ll keep an eye on them until you get back.”
Ada’s eyes crinkled with her knowing smile. “Through closed lids? Effective.”
“Isn’t that what parents are taught? Sleep when they sleep?”
She rolled her eyes. “With newborns, maybe. I think with teenagers it’s sleep with one eye open.”
He chuckled softly to avoid waking anyone nearby. “I’ll manage. Go ahead, Ada,” he waved toward the door. “We’ll be fine.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. Adaline practically skipped from the room after dropping a light kiss on his lips. Kent smiled to himself as he pressed back into the recliner to lift the footrest. Ada had a mission that would satisfy her need to organize and control.
He had a mission, too. One that would let him drift back to sleep and dream of waking up to her lovely face every morning.
Ideas that had flitted through her subconscious as she slept now raced through her alert mind. All these people would need organization. Food. Water. Entertainment. A way to charge their phones and notify loved ones.
She could suggest to the staff that they serve churros for Christmas breakfast. Who doesn’t love warm, sweet, soft cinnamon breadsticks? And for lunch, since they’d likely still be stuck here, they could make up hot dogs and nachos. Hopefully the theater kept large quantities in storage somewhere. A walk-in freezer, maybe?
Would they willingly donate sodas and bottled drinks? What about playing shows for free to keep people calm and distracted? Sure, the company would lose money, but this was Christmas, and they were in the middle of a disaster emergency. Anyone with half a brain would see these ideas were solid.
Ada picked up her pace. For the first time in ages, she felt energized with purpose. As if she could use her strengths and be enough to do something truly good. To help. There was a spring in her step, a bright hum through her veins. Lightness. Joy. Drive.
What she wouldn’t give for a hot cup of coffee. The desire was so strong, she could practically smell the beans. She sniffed the air, walking down a wide hall lined with people sitting and laying along the walls. That wasn’t just a craving she smelled. That was the real deal.
Stepping into the cavernous lobby, Ada inhaled once more with her eyes closed, smelling past the old-popcorn stink that was probably permanently embedded into the walls and carpeting. She opened her eyes and nearly tripped over her feet at the sight before her.
Behind the concession counters, a handful of theater employees flitted back and forth as if choreographed. One unwrapped sleeves of insulated cups. Another appeared to be changing the filter on an industrial coffee brewer. She couldn’t see what the others were doing, exactly, but it seemed they were hard at work preparing… breakfast?
Ada darted her gaze to the enormous clock overhead that read eight in the morning. She hardly believed it’d only been a few hours since they’d discovered the whiteout conditions. Her body felt the lack of sleep, but her mind whirled.
She spun toward the wall of windows and doors. Sunbeams reflected off the serene landscape. The snow had stopped falling at some point. Recently, she would guess. Snow piled in drifts from one to two feet deep in places. Probably not a significant amount in some states, but for the desert, it was nearly unheard of—especially in a matter of hours.
Turning back to the concession counter, she waited in a short line for her turn at the massive coffee dispenser.
“Excuse me?” Ada waited for the young adult in the uniform vest to look up.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” His name tag read Chad.
“I was wondering if there was anything I can do to help? I’m really good at organizing things and people.”
Chad’s brows drew together briefly as he eyed her with skepticism. Or was it uncertainty? “Uh, actually, Mandy has it under control.” Chad thumbed toward a very short young woman sporting a s
wollen belly. Mandy, presumably, directed the other employees the way Mr. Reed conducted the high school orchestra.
Everything was taken care of.
They didn’t need her.
Ada felt like she was in one of those movie bits where the hero is the only one moving in a freezeframe, turning a circle and taking in the scene. Clusters of people stood or sat with fists wrapped around churros and cups of coffee. Two very young-looking employees carried full trays, headed in opposite directions from each other. Probably delivering more sustenance to the rest of the refugees milling about the concourse.
The world resumed its rotation, and Ada became the one standing still. Her shoulders slumped on a sigh. So much for her inventive breakfast idea. Not so inventive after all. What was she supposed to do now?
Coffee didn’t sound so good anymore. Ada trudged back to the screening room where they’d spent the night. Pulling the door open carefully, she ducked her head in and found all three of her children and Kent still reclined with their eyes closed. They didn’t need her, either.
She wasn’t ready to go back in there. Her body still felt too stiff, her mind too restless. She let the door fall closed with a muffled thunk and turned around.
Back across the concourse, one left and two right turns later, Ada found herself in a relatively deserted hallway. If memory served, this was where they showed the movies that had been out longest.
Her feet moved past the shadowed doorway of Theater 19, where she glimpsed two sets of feet. She looked away, wishing she hadn’t overheard their rather vigorous kissing. The amorous couple certainly didn’t need her.
A half-smile pierced her cloudy mood at that thought.
Once she reached the alarmed emergency exit at the dead end, Ada turned into one of the nearby doorways and slid down the wall, blowing out a heavy breath in the darkened space. She let her head fall back and closed her eyes. Just a few moments of silence, alone. Hopefully, that would recharge her enough to face whatever the rest of this weird day held.
Lord, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. Here we are, snowed in for Christmas. It’s supposed to be a day to celebrate Your birth, a day of joy and peace.
I thought I could help—that maybe You would use me to bless these people. All these great ideas, but they don’t need me. Why are we stuck here? What’s the purpose?
Ada sighed and drew her knees up, hugging them into her chest and leaning down to rest her forehead.
That’s the point, though, isn’t it?
It’s not about me. Gooseflesh rippled her arms.
I’m sorry, Lord. You’re the great provider. You put other people in place to take care of everyone. The only thing I need to be doing is taking care of my own family and trusting You.
A deep cleansing breath brought peace. She’d needed that reminder, hadn’t she? God was in control. She didn’t need to be. HE was enough.
Those words needed to be engraved on her heart to remember and revisit often.
Kent’s eyes were still closed when she finally returned. How were they able to sleep like this? Karalee snored from the row below, her mouth hanging open as she slept. Xander’s body slumped down at an awkward angle, his face slack in almost the same way as Karalee’s. No one could doubt those two were siblings.
Jane’s lashes fluttered ever so slightly. Not sleeping, then.
“I can feel you watching me.” Her oldest whispered. “It’s creepy.”
Ada smiled. “Sorry, kid. Can’t sleep?”
Her head wobbled side to side. “Too many people moving around, even if they’re quiet.” Jane opened her eyes and smiled, the one feature that most resembled her father.
She froze. Oh no. She hadn’t texted Jeff to let them know where they were.
Was the rest of the city as impassable as where they were? Would he attempt to drive across town to pick them up later as they’d planned?
Retrieving her phone, she sighed. Ten percent battery left. Enough for right then, but it wouldn’t last the rest of the day. Would the theater’s landlines be available for those who needed to call out? She shook her head. Not her responsibility.
“I’m going to go call your dad,” Ada whispered with a pat to Jane’s shoulder.
“Okay.”
Ada snuck back out and around to an empty hall and dialed her ex-husband. She ran a hand through the longer strands on top, freezing when she realized it felt different in the back. Almost due for her first trim with the new cut, and she still hadn’t fully adjusted to the short length.
“Ad? Merry Christmas. How are the kids?”
Ada jerked back to the matter at hand. “Hi. Merry Christmas. They’re fine. But with the snow, I don’t know that you’ll get to see them.”
Jeff laughed. “I figured as much. How was the frenzy this morning?”
“Not very frenzied in the way you think, I’m afraid.”
“What does that mean?” Jeff’s jovial tone turned to concern.
“We got tickets for Shadows of Night Part Two and ended up snowed in at the theater.”
Silence met her confession. She could empathize. She’d be furious and worried and a myriad of other emotions if the tables were turned.
“Which theater?” was all he asked. Odd.
Ada told him, and he let out a sigh that sounded an awful lot like relief.
“Good. You’re right off the highway in a well-traveled area. That means they’ll probably sand there first. Be safe, and keep me posted. Give the kids my love.”
She assured him she would let them call later and disconnected. That’d gone remarkably well. Knowing how easily Jeff used to get frustrated over things he couldn’t control, she certainly hadn’t expected him to remain so calm about something this big.
His overreactions to the unplanned had often brought out her own need for control just so he could come home to a peaceful, well-ordered house. How many times had he ridiculed her perfectionism when he should’ve been pointing at himself?
Then again, Jeff had surprised her on more than one occasion, stepping up to help in especially stressful times and balancing out her obsessive need to keep their world ordered.
Kent somehow did that, too, though he went about it in a way that never made her feel small or foolish. Kent simply accepted her neuroses with a wink and a grin like he found it endearing rather than a flaw to work on.
Her heart stuttered as she opened the door and jogged up the broad steps to get back to him. The man who saw her as enough.
More than enough. Those had been the words he’d used. The same words the Holy Spirit whispered in confirmation over and over again lately.
Kent’s eyes brightened when he spotted her approaching. The warmth in his expression set off sparks in her heart that heated her whole body. He thought she was enough.
And even when she was too much at times, this wonderful, loving man simply flashed his bright misaligned smile filled with charm that reassured he wasn’t intimidated. He never made her feel ridiculous. She felt treasured.
“Hey, gorgeous.” There it was, that grin she’d just been thinking about.
“Hi. What’s going on?” Ada tipped her head toward the lower row of seats where her three children were engrossed in conversation with two teenage girls she’d never seen before.
“Well, let’s just say I’m glad you’re back.”
Her brow lifted, and she waited for him to explain.
Kent’s cheeks puffed with a heavy exhale. “It seems these two had an elaborate plan and snuck out last night to see the movie.”
Her stomach dropped. It was after nine in the morning. Their parents would definitely have noticed their disappearance by now. Ada’s heart lurched for the worry and fear they must be feeling. Why did teenagers do stuff like this?
You weren’t any better at their age.
She silenced the indictment. That line of thinking wasn’t helpful at this point. They’d need to see about a phone and try to reach these kids’ families. And then find ou
t the latest news in the outside world.
Stretching side to side and giving her neck a quick crack, Ada was ready to spring into action.
The whirlwind that was Adaline Danvers left him speechless. Awed, at times. How she managed to get so much accomplished in such a short time was beyond him.
He’d been dozing lightly when he’d overheard the frightened whispers two rows behind him escalate into near panic. Within five minutes, he’d learned the sisters had snuck out the night before to meet friends for the midnight movie, planning to sneak back in afterward, their parents none the wiser.
They hadn’t counted on the weather, or that their friends might back out of the cockamamie plan once the snow had become too much to risk. Those friends were safe and warm at home while these two fretted over what to do next. Two dead cell phones added to their alarm.
Kent wished he’d been paying better attention after the movie. Oh well. Can’t change the past. But he could help now, at least. As soon as Ada returned, he knew she’d insist on bringing them into their fold until the roads were navigable again.
Relief had poured through the floodgates when Ada had returned, a lightness about her he hadn’t seen before. Good thing, too, because the second she came back, her kids had sprung the teens on her in a flurry of explanations that would’ve thoroughly stressed out a less capable person.
Now, three hours later, it seemed they might actually be able to get out of this place before nightfall. Yes, Lord, let it be so.
Breakfast had been served, and employees were working on plans for lunch. Someone had organized a charger lending station, where people who had cords or power banks allowed others to use them for necessary calls to loved ones. Ada had placed a call to the girls’ parents right away, reassuring them their daughters were safe in the care of a Christian school librarian, counselor, and three youth. Kent smiled, recalling it.
At the present moment, Karalee and the four teenagers loitered near the concessions counter eyeballing the candy. Ada was across the cavernous concourse, chatting with a couple other women her age. Her laughter brightened the whole room like the sun glinting off piles of snow outside.