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Authors: Lynne Cantwell
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unopened, and piled the others on top of it again.
She was freezing, she realized, and it wasn’t from her morose train of thought; her fingers were stiff with cold. She got up and put her hand against the heater vent, and felt no warmth from it.
Oh, great. That’s just terrific.
She was not about to go outside and dive into the crawl space to check the furnace – not in this storm. So she lit a fire in the fireplace and made herself some tea.
That worked for a little while. But as the unnatural dusk turned to darkness and the storm began to let up, the temperature outside plummeted. She bundled herself, shivering, into a couple of layers of shirts and slacks, and put on her puffy coat over the top of all of it. But it only helped so much.
After an early supper of hot soup and more tea, she admitted defeat. She had heard the village snowplow scraping along the streets a couple of times, so she knew the road would be passable for walking. Ms. Thea and Ms. Elsie were closest, and would very likely be glad to take her in. But really, she could think of only one person in the neighborhood with whom she’d like to be marooned in a snowstorm.
She picked up her phone again. My furnace is out. Clean up those empty beer cans, mister. I’ll be there in a few minutes.
~
Dave read her text and knocked back the rest of his beer. If you’re not here in 10, he texted back, I’ll send my St. Bernard after you.
He hadn’t even gotten drunk. Once he had reached his haven, he’d popped the top on the first can and then sat by the window, watching the snow fly and thinking about what to do.
The kids were fine. He’d gone outside a couple of times to stick a yardstick into the snow and take a photo of the accumulation, which he then texted to them. His messages were met with the appropriate oohs and ahhs, and the news that Aunt Angie was taking them out for pizza. It hadn’t snowed there at all. Randi had scored a goal at basketball practice, and Ritchie had gotten the highest score in the class on his Pompeii diorama.
And why not? The kid knows all about volcanoes. After all, he lives with one.
He pushed his bitterness aside and got ready to welcome Julia.
When she arrived a few minutes later, he met her at the door with a mug of Irish coffee.
“Oh, God,” she said, pulling off layer after layer, “it feels so good to be warm!” Down to a turtleneck and leggings at last, she accepted the mug from him and took a hearty swig. “Oh, God,” she said again when she came up for air. “That is exactly what I needed. David Turner, you’re my hero.”
He reached out to touch her hair, and caught himself. Instead, he rested his hand on her shoulder and said, “Come on in.”
They settled in by the fireplace, where he had lit a fire, more for ambiance than for warmth. He had brought in the LED lanterns from the deck and put one in the kitchen and one in the bathroom, but the living room was bathed only in firelight.
They sat in silence for a little while, at opposite ends of the sectional sofa, while she sipped her coffee and he started in on another beer. Finally she said, “So. Are we just going to stare at the fire all night, or are you going to tell me what you’re doing out here in a snowstorm?”
“Did you leave your taps turned on?” he asked. “The last thing you need is a burst pipe in this weather.”
“Of course I did. Don’t change the subject.”
He sighed. What the hell. Maybe it’s time. “I don’t know how much you’ve heard about Nina,” he began.
“Ms. Elsie told me she’s bipolar.”
He shook his head. “Not bipolar. Borderline. She has Borderline Personality Disorder. And a couple of other charming disorders, too.” Disorders that make her behavior unpredictable at best. He took a healthy swig from the beer can in his hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She sounded hurt.
Because you don’t know what it means. “It’s difficult to talk about,” he said.
“Why?”
He
She was freezing, she realized, and it wasn’t from her morose train of thought; her fingers were stiff with cold. She got up and put her hand against the heater vent, and felt no warmth from it.
Oh, great. That’s just terrific.
She was not about to go outside and dive into the crawl space to check the furnace – not in this storm. So she lit a fire in the fireplace and made herself some tea.
That worked for a little while. But as the unnatural dusk turned to darkness and the storm began to let up, the temperature outside plummeted. She bundled herself, shivering, into a couple of layers of shirts and slacks, and put on her puffy coat over the top of all of it. But it only helped so much.
After an early supper of hot soup and more tea, she admitted defeat. She had heard the village snowplow scraping along the streets a couple of times, so she knew the road would be passable for walking. Ms. Thea and Ms. Elsie were closest, and would very likely be glad to take her in. But really, she could think of only one person in the neighborhood with whom she’d like to be marooned in a snowstorm.
She picked up her phone again. My furnace is out. Clean up those empty beer cans, mister. I’ll be there in a few minutes.
~
Dave read her text and knocked back the rest of his beer. If you’re not here in 10, he texted back, I’ll send my St. Bernard after you.
He hadn’t even gotten drunk. Once he had reached his haven, he’d popped the top on the first can and then sat by the window, watching the snow fly and thinking about what to do.
The kids were fine. He’d gone outside a couple of times to stick a yardstick into the snow and take a photo of the accumulation, which he then texted to them. His messages were met with the appropriate oohs and ahhs, and the news that Aunt Angie was taking them out for pizza. It hadn’t snowed there at all. Randi had scored a goal at basketball practice, and Ritchie had gotten the highest score in the class on his Pompeii diorama.
And why not? The kid knows all about volcanoes. After all, he lives with one.
He pushed his bitterness aside and got ready to welcome Julia.
When she arrived a few minutes later, he met her at the door with a mug of Irish coffee.
“Oh, God,” she said, pulling off layer after layer, “it feels so good to be warm!” Down to a turtleneck and leggings at last, she accepted the mug from him and took a hearty swig. “Oh, God,” she said again when she came up for air. “That is exactly what I needed. David Turner, you’re my hero.”
He reached out to touch her hair, and caught himself. Instead, he rested his hand on her shoulder and said, “Come on in.”
They settled in by the fireplace, where he had lit a fire, more for ambiance than for warmth. He had brought in the LED lanterns from the deck and put one in the kitchen and one in the bathroom, but the living room was bathed only in firelight.
They sat in silence for a little while, at opposite ends of the sectional sofa, while she sipped her coffee and he started in on another beer. Finally she said, “So. Are we just going to stare at the fire all night, or are you going to tell me what you’re doing out here in a snowstorm?”
“Did you leave your taps turned on?” he asked. “The last thing you need is a burst pipe in this weather.”
“Of course I did. Don’t change the subject.”
He sighed. What the hell. Maybe it’s time. “I don’t know how much you’ve heard about Nina,” he began.
“Ms. Elsie told me she’s bipolar.”
He shook his head. “Not bipolar. Borderline. She has Borderline Personality Disorder. And a couple of other charming disorders, too.” Disorders that make her behavior unpredictable at best. He took a healthy swig from the beer can in his hand.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She sounded hurt.
Because you don’t know what it means. “It’s difficult to talk about,” he said.
“Why?”
He
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