1
CELESTE
I gun the engine desperately, whispering a quiet prayer under my breath as there's no response. The sun went down an hour ago, the temperature dropped as the wind ramped up, and I'm surrounded by flurries of white that make it impossible to see what is waiting outside the very limited range of my headlights.
Lights that are rapidly getting dimmer with each second that passes.
Panic threatens to overwhelm me, my throat growing tight and the tell-tale increase in my heart rate that promises this attack could be a bad one. And frankly, I don't have time to deal with that on top of the very real problem in front of me. A dead car on a barely used road through the mountain that I'm pretty sure only locals know about. Locals who are all smart enough to not be out in this kind of weather. Especially on Christmas Eve.
Visions of a warm fire, a table full of food and stockings on the mantle greet me when I close my eyes. A silent countdown of each deep breath I take forces my racing heart to slow until my pulse is no longer pounding in my ears.
Think. That's all I have to do right now. I'm capable. I can find a solution.
The mantra I've created for myself is nothing new. It's become a comfortable companion, kind of like an old, cozy sweater. One that is always waiting and warm, ready to be tugged on as soon as you walk in the door, but you'd never wear out in public. You'd never want other people to know you need something so much.
Now that I can breathe normally again, I take stock of what I have available. Granola bars in my giant purse. Two, to be exact. Both pumpkin spice flavored. A blanket in my trunk and an extra sweatshirt sitting on the floor of my backseat. The bottle of water, half gone, that I'd been sipping from as I drove.
Not to mention all the presents I'd loaded up hours earlier. Presents that need to be delivered tonight. A promise I can't break.
There's my phone, of course, but a quick glance at it confirms what I already suspected. No signal. And the chancy battery is barely charged, even though I'd plugged it in when I stopped for gas. Gas and directions that ended with me stuck on a mountain road in a blizzard.
I groan and drop my head to the steering wheel, rubbing my cold hands together to warm them up. My gloves are old, worn thin, and even my winter coat isn't the kind made for these conditions. It's meant for someone who runs from one building to another. Not someone who goes hiking for miles through heavy snow.
Two more deep breaths and I try to start my car one final time. There's nothing. No click of the starter, not even a gurgle of hope as I push on the gas pedal.
That's when my headlights die and everything around me goes dark.
2
LEO
It was subtle. A barely there change in the light, but one that caught my attention. Simply because it shouldn't be there.
Kind of like I shouldn't be here. Out as night fell when I knew the reports a blizzard was coming. Granted it hit hours before it was predicted to. I'm sure there are plenty of people who view this as perfect Christmas weather. They'll wake up to pristine waves of snow in their front yards, trees glittering with ice, and pronounce it beautiful.
It's just more cold as far as I'm concerned. Another winter day like all the others.
I came here to avoid Christmas. To avoid people who believe it's the one day to show off with gifts they purchased or gifts they were given. To spend money on frivolous, pricy decorations that do nothing but add flash and shininess to their houses. Money that could buy some families food for a month. Or even longer.
Being away from everyone who can't stop talking about the blasted holiday was meant to give me a bit of peace. I could hike, chop wood, eat and sleep without knowing what day itwas. Without feeling like I was forgotten or unwelcome. Or an inconvenience invited somewhere simply out of pity.
But that flash of light that shouldn't be was enough to make me certain I wasn't here alone. Which also meant that someone needed help.
I may not be a fan of Christmas, but I've still got a conscience. Leaving someone, anyone, alone and stranded on a night like this was not something I could ever do.
Angling myself toward where the light had been, I pushed through. The snow was steadily growing thicker, and the heavy wet weight of it would be a burden soon enough. Best to get this done and over with. Then I could head home and warm myself up.
The small sedan that finally appears out of the haze of blowing snow wasn't built for trips like this. Between the poorly maintained road itself, the steep grade, and the quickly increasing cold, driving it up here was a distinctly bad idea.
I skirt around to the side, tapping on the driver's window. There's a muted squeak from inside and then a gloved hand wipes at the glass, clearing enough that I make out wide, startled eyes and a fringe of dark hair escaping from underneath a knitted winter cap.
"You need help." It's not a question. Because there's absolutely no question. This woman is in clear need of help, and I'm not going to be able to walk away until I know she's not in harm's way any longer.
She looks over her shoulder into the backseat, and I squint, able to make out vague shapes in the darkness. I'm suddenly afraid that maybe this situation is worse than I thought. Maybe she has kids in there, and my mind slips instantly into problem solving mode. How I could guide a woman and kids to safety through this weather without anyone getting hurt, frost bitten or lost.
The click of her door opening pulls me from my planning.
"Hello," she says, leaning close so I can hear her over the wind. "I'm so glad you're here. And you're right. I do need help."
