CARTER
The snowflakes sting every time they melt on my skin as I trudge through the snow that now reaches just below my knees. I’m doing my best to get home, but I’m moving at a snail’s pace. I could say that I’m focusing all of my energy on moving, but that would be a lie.
Pure adrenaline and panic have me pushing to work as hard as I can to reach Rosie. My phone battery died right after she called me back to say that she is trying to remain calm, has set the mood with candles, and she’ll phone 911 again if she needs to deliver. Not one single thing in that fucking sentence has helped ease my mind.
The moment she hung up, I began my trek, which I can imagine is the same as climbing Everest. I shouldn’t have gone in to work, nor left her when she is so far in her pregnancy, but I did, and now there are consequences for my choices.
Rosie has to be okay, and I’m hoping the pain isn’t as bad as they say. Selfishly, I don’t want to miss seeing our child enter the world. There are so many reasons why I need to ignore how my muscles are beginning to ache from the weight of the fresh powdered snow around my shins and the gusts of wind that sets me back a few steps. Right now, I would play the privileged card if I could. None of it will work, though. The entire town has come to a standstill until the snowfall stops.
On a good day, the walk from our house to Main Street is twenty minutes. Right now, five of those minutes have turned to twenty already. I need to move faster, but I can’t.
Keeping my gloved hands stuffed in my pockets, I continue my journey with my heart pounding. The sound of a very slow Jeep catches my attention, and when I glance up ahead on the road, a speck of relief hits me, only to be refilled with adrenaline by the urgency of my situation.
I really fight the resistance of my body trudging against the wind to walk onto the street that is slippery. Managing to grab the man’s attention by waving my arm, the driver stops his Jeep, which has chains on the wheels. He keeps the emergency blinking lights on and opens the driver’s side door to look down at me.
Close enough, we both get a glimpse of one another through our coats and hats.
“Sheriff Carter?” Pete Smythe, my former opponent, seems to be confused.
I waste no time assessing that he is out in the snow, which isn’t surprising considering the guy chases tornados for a hobby.
Ignoring answering his obvious question, I cut to the chase. “You’re able to drive?”
“Slowly but surely.” He pats the steering wheel with pride. “Got this baby over the summer and can handle all extremes.”
“I’m not going to question this. I’m getting in.” I begin to circle the Jeep and open the passenger door and hop in.
The moment the door closes, Pete looks at me as he starts the engine up again. “Why are you out here,MayorCarter.”
“Drive,” I bite out.
“Where to? I heard the plows started out on the east side.”
“To my house. Rosie is in labor.” My eyes search up ahead at the road to see if I’m giving myself false hope to get to her faster.
His eyes grow bold. “Say no more. I’ll get this bad boy up to twenty.”
Warming my hands, I do it more to stay occupied.
“First kid, right? We’re not supposed to say this as fathers, but the first birth is special, as everything is new. The second child you know what’s coming.”
“Well, I won’t even see the first if I don’t get there,” I grind out. My eyes scan the vehicle for a plugin. “Do you have a USB cord to charge my phone?”
“Sure thing, I even have enough water for the week under the backseat in case the apocalypse comes. The cord’s right in the dashboard.” There was zero sarcasm in that sentence because I’m well aware he stocks up on canned goods at the superstore near the highway.
I jerk out the line only to curse to myself, as it has the wrong end to fit into my phone. Someone upstairs is really testing me. Sighing, I sink back in my chair and try to remind myself that there is nothing I can do right now.
“I would say use my phone, but the signal has been iffy all afternoon.” Pete indicates with his head to his cell resting in the cupholder as he focuses on the road.
I yank it free and see there are no bars of signal. Angling the phone in different positions, I realize that it’s hopeless. Then a dreaded fear pings in my heart that Rosie wouldn’t be able to answer anyhow because she’s on the phone with the emergency services to help her.
Glancing to my side, I want to appreciate how Pete is happy-go-lucky and whistling a tune from West Side Story, but it doesn’t at all help me stay collected. Maybe he notices my grumbly face.
“It’s best if you try and remain unruffled. You’ll need your strength to help. Whether you miss the labor or not, the next few days will be life-changing. She’ll need you.” He offers his advice, and since he has five kids, then it can’t be too far off the track.
“I won’t miss the delivery.” I’m defiant.
He doesn’t reply, instead we steadily keep driving. I’m paying no attention until he begins to slow to a stop.
