“What are you doing? We have to keep going,” I insist.
“We’re at the end of Everhope Road. You’re going to have to walk the rest. One of your neighbors has horrible parallel parking skills and is taking half of the street. I won’t be able to get this beast through.”
I can do this. Squinting my eyes, I even see a neighbor or two up ahead shoveling while their kids play in the snow.
I nod to him in understanding. “Okay. Thank you.” Opening the door, I hop out.
“You’ve got this,” he calls out.
“When I need to appoint city council president then you will be the first I recommend,” I say then shut the door.
Guessing the position of the sidewalk, I begin my quest to get home. At moments it feels like dead weight on my ankles, and other times my calves ache from balancing my weight on my feet to avoid falling.
“Hey there, Sheriff Carter. What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be with Rose?” A neighbor, Kelly, is shoveling the end of her driveway, with her hood nearly covering her entire face, as her son who is a freshman is busy arranging something by the garage.
“I didn’t realize you were home. Hopefully, Rosie messaged the neighborhood app. She’s in labor.”
She adjusts the end of the shovel. “She did, but then she sent a picture to all of us with candles and floor cushions saying that she was perfectly fine and finding her inner tranquility and you would be home any moment.”
Well, I’ll give Rosie credit for her extreme optimism.
My eyes blaze, and determination to get to my stubborn almost wife again now has reached epic proportions. “Do I look like I’m at home any moment?” I deadpan.
Kelly frowns, and her face screams sympathy. “Okay. Let me think… Snowmobile!”
“What?”
“Jay, bring out your snowmobile. The sheriff or mayor or whatever we are calling Carter these days needs it.”
“But Mom, I’m supposed to be meeting my crew down by the parking lot at the river,” he complains.
“You don’t havea crew. You live in Everhope. Now move it,” she chides then brings her hand to her heart. “I’ll re-text the neighborhood group and tell them that we were given false information about someone’s labor. But good news.” She splays out her hands as I stare at her blankly. “We already started making a list of who is delivering meals which days for the next two weeks for the new parents.”
She seems to grasp that it doesn’t feel like good news right now. Our eyes swing to her son tugging his snowmobile out of the garage. He seats himself behind the handlebars and scoots forward. “On ya go, Sheriff. Does this mean I won’t get in trouble for not having an updated safety education certificate?”
“Yes!” I get on behind him. “Now let’s go.”
Kelly begins to jump in place and clap her hands. “Good luck!”
“Let’s roll.” Jay revs up the engine, and I have to find my bearing as my upper body wobbles.
It doesn’t even take thirty seconds for me to realize that this kid shouldnotbe driving a snowmobile. The engine sound thrums in my ears, the snow feels like stones against my face, and the speed is questionable but gets the damn job done.
He barely stops before I jump off the snowmobile when it slows at the front of my house.
“Good luck,” he calls as I’m nearly leaping over snow. I ignore where he zooms away. I barrel through the front door.
“Rosie!”
The sound of a long grunt from upstairs informs me of exactly where I need to go. Skipping two steps at a time as I throw off my coat and gloves, I follow the sound straight to our bedroom.
Then I stop.
My head tilts and my brows furrow.
Candles are lit all around the room, there is the smell of lavender, rose, or jasmine or what the fuck hitting my nose, and background sounds of singing bowls play. There are cushions on the floor with beaded bracelets scattered around. There is also Jet with his chin resting on his paws where he’s lying on the floor.
Then there is my wife.
