“There’s irony in this, Lucille,” I said to the cardboard box on the seat next to me, where my plants were safely tucked in bubble wrap and tissue paper along with my other prized possessions. “Maybe only the Alanis Morissette kind, though.”
I dialed the number for the O’Leary police department and Marci, the dispatcher, answered on the third ring.
“Yep. Stay in your vehicle, Parker,” she told me once I’d explained my problem and Joe’s proposed solution. “Someone’ll come out and getcha.”
“Yeah. Okay.” The wind kicked up in an enormous gust that rocked my car. “Any idea how long?”
“Nope! Anything I told you at this point would be a lie,” she said way too cheerfully. “Wind knocked down a tree at the corner of Waterford and Crescent that hit a power line before falling smack onto the back of Quinn Tierney’s car. Nearly killed Emmylou Harris.”
“The singer?”
“No, honey. Quinn’s dog. But that means we’ve got a couple hundred folks without power already, mostly elderly folks. Plus, poor Quinn’s still stuck in his car until the power company can get out here. Snow’s piling up, even though the weather folks say the brunt of the storm won’t hit for hours yet. We’re setting up an emergency shelter over at the school, and right now we’ve got all our guys and gals out doing evacuations. Could be ten minutes, could be a few hours.”
A few hours. I looked at my gas gauge which I swear had been way higher just a couple minutes ago.
“Sure,” I agreed. “I’ll be fine for a few hours.”
“And you’ve got an emergency kit in your car, right? Food, water, blankets? All that stuff they teach O’Learians in driver’s ed?”
“Pfft. What do you take me for?” I scoffed.
Spoiler: I had no such thing. Clearly my decade in Boston, relying on public transportation, had made me soft.
Marci chuckled once, like maybe she knew. “You hang in there, Parks.”
“I will,” I said, because what else was there to do? Hoffstraeders didn’t panic.
But it wasn’t that long—only maybe thirty minutes, just long enough for me to work my way from resignation to terror and back again—before I saw headlights coming down the road toward me, oh-so-slowly.
“Thankfuck,” I breathed, flashing my lights frantically. For once, something was going right.
The huge truck rolled to a stop in the center of the road and I shut off my car, shoving the keys and my phone in my pocket. I twisted to grab my backpack from the floor behind me and dragged the cardboard box from the passenger’s seat into my lap.
“Rescue is at hand, lovelies,” I whispered to my plants, nearly giddy with relief. Then I pushed open my door, stepped into the blizzard… and fell to my knees, because the snow was nearly a foot deep over here. No wonder my car wouldn’t get back on the road.
I heard the door of the truck slam as I tried to regain my feet without dropping the box or my backpack. My sneakers slid on the fresh powder while tiny weaponized snowflakes whipped against my face, stinging my cheeks and making my eyes run. I wasn’t wearing a hat or gloves—let’s pretend those were in my non-existent driver’s emergency kit—and the snow began to seep through the knees of my jeans as I fumbled.
“Hey! You okay?” the driver called, making his way through the howling snow. “Hang on. Lemme help.” I caught a glimpse of giant boots before his gloved hand reached out to pull me up.
I grabbed it and let him tow me to my feet. “Dude, I’m great now that you’re here!” I grinned at my rescuer. “I was on my way to the airport and I spun out. You’re my knight in… in…”
Oh. Fudge.
His auburn hair was covered with a hat, and the semi-darkness threw his bearded face into relief, but I would know those brown eyes and broad shoulders anywhere.
“Parker?” Jamie demanded. “What the ever-loving fuck are you doing out here?”
I had this weird sense of déjà vu as I stood there holding Jamie’s hand. It was like we’d been transported back to the playground at school a billion years ago, and suddenly Jamie was rescuing me again, except back in the day his eyes had been a lot kinder, less filled with murderous outrage and shock. Funny how shit changed.
I pulled my hand away and wiped the snow from my eyes.
“Sightseeing. Obvs.”
“You were supposed to have left town.” His voice was accusing. Angry. Like I’d lied to him or something. Like it wasmyfault I was stuck on the side of the road.
“Well, I wastryingto leave,” I informed him.
“Trying?How hard is it to drive away? God knows you’ve done it before.” He swiveled his head back and forth, his eyes taking in the empty road, the weird, pink sky, and my car, which was tilting at a very odd angle, before finally coming back to me. “I mean, how thehelldoes this shit even happen?”
