I pause and listen, the only movement being my hand rising and falling with Elsa’s breath.
Silence.
Maybe I was mistaken.
Yeah, I must have misheard. Way more likely to be the wind blowing something, or an animal moving around than someone knocking. Maybe a deer sheltering from the snow?
All sorts of creatures seem drawn to my porch. There was the turkey that kept visiting purely to pace up and down for reasons I could never establish, the feral cat that decided it was the perfect place to bring three kittens into the world, and the unfortunate incident with the opossum. He got stuck between the railings and objected mightily to me unsticking him. Of course, I can’t be sure he was male. It’s a guess based on him believing he knew best. I have a scar on my arm to prove it.
Oh, okay, there it is again. Yeah, definitely a knock. Of the human variety.
I could ignore it. But it’s obvious I’m home. Even with the drapes shut you could tell the lights are on. And there’ll be smoke coming from the chimney.
But I could really do without whoever this is.
I put the phone down and gently move Elsa’s chin from my leg onto the sofa. She makes a contented grunty sound as she readjusts herself.
I ease back the edge of the curtain and peek out. Amid the snow swirling against the black sky, there’s the shape of a car parked in the driveway.
Who the hell is that? I don’t know anyone with a white car. And it takes a deliberate effort to drive up the long, winding lane to reach my solitary cabin at the end of it. No one could ever claim to be passing by.
This is how horror movies start. I can’t be the fool who answers the door to a stranger on a dark, blizzardy night while a packed theater shouts, “Nooooo.”
But what if someone needs help? It is pretty bad out there.
Elsa’s still snoozing blissfully on the sofa. That’s where I’d planned to be. Not only tonight but every night. I do not want to answer the door to God knows who. People usually go hand in hand with trouble.
I take a deep breath, blow it out, and shake my head. There’s no way I can ignore someone who might be in some sort of danger with the weather.
I flick on the outside light and open the door as far as the chain allows.
It’s a man. On my porch. A sight way less common than wildlife.
At least his head isn’t stuck in the railings.
2
SUMMER
He’s all designer floppy hair and stubble. Like a model for some hipster city store.
And clearly not the sharpest tool in the shed. I mean, how dumb do you have to be to be out in a blizzard wearing a thin sweater over a plaid shirt, jeans, and the pair of retro style sneakers he’s trying to scrape the snow from on my doormat? And that little hatchback is a death trap in these conditions.
He looks up from the shoe-scraping, and his broad shoulders drop with relief. “Oh, thank God.”
Guess he’s not one for a polite “hello.”
He rubs his hands together. “I’ve got a bit of a problem.”
“Only one?” I ask.
“What?”
I point my finger through the gap in the door. “Well, you seem to be in an inappropriate vehicleandinappropriate clothing. That’s at least two problems.”
“Oh.” He wrinkles the brow of his slightly tanned face and shakes his head. “Well, anyway, I must have taken a wrong turn. And my phone’s died. So, I need a charge.”
“Can’t you charge it in your car?”
