Dad must have noticed too because he said, “I know, you don’t need that much looking after. You are not and have never been like your mother. I never should have said that. I’m sorry.”
I appreciated his apology. Being compared to my mother had hurt.
“Merry Christmas, Dad,” I whispered and then hung up. I didn’t know if he’d heard me.
“You good with dinner there?” Christopher said.
I nodded and sent Dad a text.“Yes, to dinner. Raincheck on the movie.”
Christopher squeezed my hand, then called his parents the same way. He talked to them weekly, but not on FaceTime. His parents had been kind to him, but they were closer to Brandon. They knew Brandon had woken up and were hopeful of his continued recovery. They’d considered flying up for Christmas, but Brandon hadn’t returned their calls, except for the first time when he’d asked for time and space.
I’d been surprised this morning when Christopher pulled an extra present from the Winters from under the tree. The card said,“Elizabeth, we’ve always wanted to meet you. Take care of our Christopher, Merry Christmas.”
Their thoughtfulness had blown me away, as I had expected nothing.
Today, Christopher tugged me into the camera frame with him and introduced us. It wasn’t quite the same as an in-person introduction, but it meant a lot. Christopher had put my name on the gift he’d sent and they thanked me. They’d been friendly and knew that I didn’t speak, so it wasn’t awkward. Christopher had prepared them well and, as always, he was happy to fill any silence with chatter. When the call finished, I picked up their card and pointed to the word“Always.”
“Mom knows I kicked myself for introducing you to Brandon.” He scooped me up and kissed me. “Maybe she feels like you’re with the right brother this time.”
His eyes were serious, with the icy blue that seared my soul.
“No more pining,” I whispered, partly in jest.
His answer was another kiss.
“I wasn’t pining,” he said at last. “I was biding my time for you to come to your senses.”
“Thank you for waiting.”
I texted when I talked to Christopher if we were out, but alone in our home, I whispered. Dr. Maeve was thrilled with my progress, calling it “Astounding” and said she was a genius. She took all the credit, but I owed a lot to Christopher.
This time, we took Ember to the cabin. She roamed the car for a few minutes, then settled in by my feet and slept. We would have to be careful with the cabin door to ensure she stayed inside, but I didn’t think she would want to escape into the cold outdoors.
We left after a quick lunch at home. The journey started clear and glorious as we left Portland, and the roads were quiet because of the holiday. I saw no sign of Eric or anyone from Real Tech, though we watched to see if they followed our vehicle. The landscape rolled by, snowy, but magical where it had been undisturbed. A blanket of snow made the world feel clean and new.
We hadn’t gone far up the mountain highway when the weather changed. An angry blackish-gray mass engulfed the sky. The blue disappeared, as did the daylight. It was dark before we expected and the air had a strange yellow cast. Forty minutes from the cabin, the sky turned white and small flakes twirled through our line of sight, melting on the road before us.
The further up the mountain we drove, the larger the snowflakes and the slower Christopher drove. The road became icy and there’d been no sign of the snowplow or sand trucks. We’d rented the SUV again, and he put it in four-wheel drive and slowed our pace to a crawl. The last leg of the drive took an hour instead of half that because of the treacherous conditions and poor visibility. The driveway hadn’t been plowed and was slippery underneath the new snow, but somehow, we got to the top.
“We’re going to be stuck for a few days if this doesn’t let up soon,” said Christopher as he parked. He squinted into the whiteness above. The view was gone. “Good thing we don’t need to be anywhere for a week.”
I smiled. I didn’t mind the idea of being stranded with him.
Like last time, we separated to do different jobs for the sake of efficiency. He turned on the cabin electricity and the water in the shed and carried stacks of additional firewood to the back porch, while I took Ember in her carrier, then the suitcases and the groceries inside. Gusts of wind blew my hair in my face so I couldn’t see. Broken branches scudded past on the frozen ground while cold snow stung my face and hands where they were exposed. The wind was stronger here where it was open. The mountain above had disappeared in a cloud of white, and it was as though we were alone in the storm.
Christopher had shown me how to start a fire in November and once inside, I did my best to remember his lesson. I was proud when my small fire grew large enough to consume first the kindling, then the larger firewood. The storm should have worried me, but it made me feel safe. Though we were snowed in until they cleared the roads, it meant we wouldn’t be bothered. In the back of my mind, I was always aware that Eric hadn’t been apprehended, but I had confidence that we would have seen him on the empty highway.
Christopher and I talked more about our past. I told him about my mom and he talked about his dad. We had emotional scars from their bad parenting. My dad had been in denial about my mom’s problems until her accident. I didn’t think about her accident very often, but the one I’d been in with Eric hadn’t been my first.
“When I was ten, we were on the way back from a mid-afternoon playdate. My mom had been drinking in the kitchen with my friend’s mom. They’d had several glasses of wine while we played. I was nervous about getting in the car and tried to protest. I wasn’t brave enough to refuse a ride home. I was a kid and powerless.”
My throat thickened as I continued my story. “She lost control of the car in the rain and hit a cement median. It crushed my side, but the car spun as though in slow motion, water cascading higher than the windows. A big truck hit us afterward. I was okay, but it killed her on impact.”
Christopher squeezed my hand.
“That was my first visit to the hospital. It was also the first time I saw an adult’s tears. Dad crying was almost harder than the news that my mom had died. It scared me.”
“I don’t remember my mother,” said Christopher, his thumb circling on the back of my hand. “I was too young when she split and I can’t picture my father’s face anymore, just his grating voice and his sour smell.” He stared into the distance for a moment while he collected his thoughts. “He went out for smokes one night and didn’t come home.”
