by Kinney Scott
“Mom.” That single word moved Laura forward, and she encased Grace in her arms.
“Oh, my God. Grace, I’ve missed you. I love you, so much.” Laura’s broken words tumbled together with barely controlled tears.
“It’s okay Mom. I’m okay,” Grace said, looking over her mother’s shoulder and into her brother’s eyes.
Rick’s hands covered his mother’s shaking form. “Come on Mom - let Grace breathe,” he soothed.
Laura nodded and straightened, “Grace, you look so beautiful.” And for the first time in years, these words were the truth. Grace’s eyes were clear. She was still thin, but not hollow. The layers of clothes she wore, while worn, looked clean and tidy.
“Grace, I’m sorry if we’ve made a scene here…” Rick began.
She shook her head and smiled past controlled tears, “No, I’m glad you’re here. I thought Maggie might call.”
“You knew Maggie was from Ashwood?” Rick asked.
She nodded, “Where’s Ricky?”
“I’m sorry sweetheart, we left him at home with Linnea,” her mother said, seeing Grace’s disappointment.
“Linnea’s my cousin,” Neil added.
“And my…” girlfriend Rick almost said, stopping himself.
“I’d hoped to see him before I left,” Grace said, sadly. “It’s my fault, I should have called you.”
“Where are you going?” her mother asked with worry in her tone.
“I’ve got a job lined up in Dallas. Candace found work at a shelter and place for me there. She thought the change would be…the best choice right now.”
Rick nodded, “Good. That sounds really good.” A wave of relief swept over him. As he let go of the lingering fear, a small space widened for the love he still had for his sister.
The siblings smiled at each other for the first time in years.
“How’s Ricky adjusting?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears.
“I love him, Grace. He’s doing great,” Rick told her.
Her smile widened dramatically, “I love him too. That’s the reason I gave him to you. I know it’s a lot to ask, Rick. Thank you so much.” Grace pulled her brother into an embrace. He shivered in his damp dress shirt and slacks.
“You’re frozen…Do you…want to come inside?” she hesitated to ask.
“We could take you out to dinner,” her mother offered.
“Actually, I’m supposed to check in by ten…rules of the shelter,” she shrugged.
The men nodded, and Neil asked, “When do you leave for Texas?”
“I’ve got a bus ticket leaving tomorrow morning. When I get to Dallas I’ll call Rick.” Grace pulled out a cell phone, held it to Rick and asked him to add his number.
“I’m adding Mom’s too,” he said staring at the screen.
“Grace, I’m moving back to Ashwood, to help with Ricky. If you need anything look for me there.” Laura said, confirming the decision she’d been considering.
“Mom. I’m sorry.”
She could spend all night apologizing for each selfish act, but for now, Grace needed to absorb enough love and strength from her family to say goodbye. Rick scooped his sister into another hug. As soon as he released her, Neil reached out and took hold of her hand.
She squeezed his strong hand in two of hers and smiled up at the man. That boy she’d lost long ago to a series of damaging choices.
“I need to get inside,” Grace began and then added, “Give Ricky a kiss for me, tell him Mommy loves him.”
The rain fell in larger drops, some heavy with the slush of snow. Grace disappeared into the shelter. Neil, Rick, and his mother huddled against the cold, then turned away from the grey stone church, and walked together back to Rick’s SUV.
“Do you want me to drive?” Neil asked as Rick fumbled with frozen fingers to pull his keys from his pocket.
He nodded, held the keys at arm’s length and stared back at the shelter. Fat snowflakes mingled with the rain, making the historic cathedral look like a holiday postcard.
***
Rick drove home alone after dropping his mother at the Fisher’s place and Neil at his parent’s home. Two inches of snow covered the ground as he pulled up to his cabin. Tire tracks in the snow told him clearly that Dillon had spent a good portion of the night.
A possessive streak of jealousy punched his pulse into high gear and pushed away any hint of fatigue. Controlling his desire to burst into his home and take Linnea into his arms, Rick quietly pushed the door open. Linnea sat with Ricky in her arms, rocking him gently as the baby sucked on a bottle.
The little guy turned his head, and smiled around the bottle, a bit of formula leaked from the corner of his lips. He squirmed in Linnea’s arms, struggling against her hold to reach out for Rick.
“He missed you,” Linnea said. And so did I. “How was Grace?”
Rick bent and grabbed his boy, took the half-finished bottle from Linnea’s hands and sank into the couch to finish feeding the baby.
“Grace was good, for the first time in years I saw my sister,” he smiled, happy to have something positive to say about this part of his life.
“And your Mom? How did she handle everything?”
“Better than I could have imagined. Grace is moving to Texas, and she seems hopeful.” He shrugged, not ready to recall the fresh events in too much detail. Ricky drifted back to sleep. Standing slowly, Rick cradled his baby in his arms and carried him back to his crib.
As Rick returned to his snug living room, a log shifted in the wood stove and banged against the metal interior. Linnea jumped a bit and laughed, the music in her giggle broke the tension.
“I’m sorry you missed the rest of the party. Congratulations,” she said remembering why he was dressed so formally. His shirt was now terribly wrinkled as if the cotton had dried directly on his body.
He shook his head and relaxed, “you have to know that was torture, being up there in front of half the town.”
“The framed plaque makes everyone feel better because they can never repay you for all the things you do.”
“I miss volunteering at the department,” he admitted with a shrug.
They both knew he didn’t need to give it up - If he had allowed her to stay.
Lights flickered across his windows and Rick looked toward the door confused.
“That’s Dillon. He took his Camaro home to pick up his truck when the snow began.”
Linnea stood to leave. Rick studied her soft curves perfectly molded in the skirt and snug sweater she’d worn for the party. Her patent leather heels lay near the door. She moved that direction to slip on her shoes.
Rick moved close, and without thinking, she grasped his muscled forearm to steady herself as she slipped into both heels. The touch, their first in weeks, sizzled with instant desire. Linnea released her hold, but Rick replaced her touch with his hands snug around her waist.
The truck’s motor outside stopped. Rick pulled Linnea close, flush against him from knee to shoulder. Pinning her with one arm, Rick encased Linnea between his body and the solid oak door.
Dillon’s truck door slammed. Rick’s mouth claimed Linnea’s in a desperate attempt to take back all the foolish words he said that drove her away. Using his weight, Rick pressed his body against her curves, in her tall heels their hips met perfectly. His hard to her soft.
Rick pulled away from her taste. “Don’t leave,” he begged.
A hard knock hit the door. Linnea felt it across her back and across the sway of her butt.
“Just a second,” Rick’s voice called firmly and she jumped. The commanding sound was too close.
Grasping her chin in his hand, Rick dipped his head and claimed a second hungry kiss. Dillon knocked again. Rick gazed at Linnea, but she didn’t reveal anything - No rejection and no consent. Rick pulled away.
“Thank you for helping with Ricky,” he said coolly.
Linnea shivered as the heat from Rick’s body went with him. She bent sh
aking and confused to find her purse on the table. He grabbed her coat from the hook, helped her into the thin protection from the elements and opened the door to let her leave with Dillon.
TWENTY
“Here’s another delivery!” Annie said walking into Linnea’s office holding four brown boxes.
“Thanks, Annie. Let’s see what came today. I love Christmas shopping online, but waiting for packages to arrive makes me crazy.” She checked the labels and frowned.
“I still love going to the mall,” Annie said. “I love looking at the decorations and even fighting the crowds. It wouldn’t feel like Christmas if I ordered all my gifts online.”
Linnea set the boxes aside, unable to decide what to do with the matching shearling lined coats she’d bought for Rick and Ricky. It seemed liked months had passed since she stacked firewood with Rick. The coat she’d pulled on before stepping out his door, the one he wore outside to grab logs for the woodstove, was worn. A large hole at the elbow let cold air in, and the cuffs had frayed with use.
Just after Thanksgiving, Linnea searched online for a replacement and was thrilled to find a matching jacket for Ricky. Now that the gifts had arrived, she didn’t know what to do.
After that kiss, she dreamed of him, but the following day nothing changed. Rick still starred in her fantasies each night, but he never called, texted, or stepped into the taproom.
Linnea nearly slipped on the packed snow as she opened her trunk and rearranged the contents making room for gifts delivered today at work. When she moved aside a box of extra Christmas lights, a platter appeared.
“Darn, where did that come from?” she muttered, spotting the dish that lay buried under boxes in her car. The dish had to be a pan left from the overabundance neighbors brought to welcome the baby.
“Who does this belong to?” she said flipping it over. Linn struggled to remember where the Garrisons lived.
Linnea put the dish on her passenger seat. She would give them a call and deliver it tonight after work. With the door open, she tossed the warm coats, still in their packaging, on the rear seat and slammed the door.
Later, Dillon ducked his head into her office, “Do you have any plans for tonight, Linn?”
“Amanda and I are going to The Northside for dinner and drinks. Do you want to come along?” she offered.
“Nah, enjoy your night out. Maybe tomorrow?” he asked with hope.
She nodded, “Sure, that would be nice.”
He wanted more than nice, but so far keeping their dates friendly worked, at least for Linnea. With New Year’s Eve less than two weeks away, Dillon knew he could count on a first kiss by then - maybe sooner.
She looked up the number, and waited while the phone rang, “Hello Mrs. Garrison, this is Linnea Michaels.” It took the woman a moment to place her. She’d almost forgotten about the platter, but accepted Linnea’s offer to drop it by this evening, and gave detailed directions to her house.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Annie. Call if anything comes up tonight and I’ll come right over,” Linnea said as she left for the evening.
“Bye Linn, we’ve got this. Ravenna and Wade are stopping in later tonight.” Annie waved as Linnea stepped out. Complete dark concealed the stars and moon, and the air smelled like snow.
Carefully navigating the unfamiliar road, Linnea arrived later than she hoped. She might be a few minutes late to meet Amanda.
***
Rick took a shot and missed.
“Damn, you are out of practice,” Kent laughed.
“Haven’t had much time to shoot pool, asshole.” he laughed, thankful for the weekend break. His mom wanted a holiday weekend with her grandson, to sit on Santa’s lap for a picture. Even though he enjoyed the needed break, his house felt too quiet to go home.
“If you suck this bad at pool after only a few weeks of daddy-duty, I’ll be dragging you up the mountain tomorrow,” Kent laughed.
Rick worried he may be right, but looked forward to a day of backcountry snowshoeing. Daddy-duty, he liked the sound of that. He’d already begun referring to Ricky as his son.
***
Still nothing. Not a text, not a call. Where was she?
Amanda sat at her table at the Northside, her second empty root beer now a glass of ice in front of her. She placed a call over to the taproom, “Hey, Annie! How are you?”
“I’m good, it’s crazy here. What can I do for you?” Annie asked with the cordless tucked against her shoulder.
“I’m trying to get hold of Linnea, I thought we were getting together for dinner,” Amanda asked, expecting to be handed off to her cousin.
“She left more than an hour ago,” Annie said. “Hang on a sec. Dillon! Where was Linnea going tonight?”
Amanda heard his resonant voice answer and worry tightened her chest. Her cousin should have arrived long ago.
“Maybe she went to my house, to pick me up,” Amanda said, knowing Linnea hadn’t. She placed a call that she knew would spark instant action.
“Dad, I’m at the Northside. Linnea was supposed to be here an hour ago and I haven’t seen her.”
“Have you called the taproom?” he asked.
“Yeah, she’s not there. I called her, sent a text, and haven’t heard a thing. It’s going directly to voicemail.”
“She could be at her place next to Wade’s. She may not have great reception,” he said already moving toward the door. “Let me swing by her tiny home first and I’ll call you back.”
“Okay. Please hurry.” Amanda wandered out to the parking lot, to look for her cousin and to pace off some of her anxiety. The biting cold forced her back inside.
Kent spotted Amanda. He’d heard she was back in town. “Rick, have you talked to Amanda? Has she been by the taproom?”
“How would I know?” he growled, “I haven’t had the balls to go over there and watch Dillon make moves on Linnea.”
“You’ve gotta be shitting me, Rick. You had to know Linnea wouldn’t be single long when you kicked her out.” He prodded, knowing his friend couldn’t take much more of his self-imposed torture. Kent could feel Rick’s irritation; he was about to cave and find a way to get his girl back.
Amanda walked up to the bar, caught Iris’ attention, and left quickly.
Kent leaned to the side, trying to get a better look at the bar. Iris grabbed the phone and made a call. “That’s strange. Amanda’s been in here alone for an hour. She just took off. I wonder if some ass stood her up?”
With a shake of his head, Rick huffed, “And you’re giving me shit? Kent, you’re obsessed with a woman who can’t’ stand you.”
“Fuck off, Rick,” Kent growled, he’d taken enough shit for the night of the Halloween party.
Iris came toward them, closing the distance to their table with determined speed.
She leaned over and spoke directly to Rick, “I thought you’d want to know - Linnea is missing.”
TWENTY-ONE
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Garrison,” Linnea said as she turned back to her car. Snow was falling steadily again adding a fresh layer to six inches of icy crust. She climbed in her car, thankful for her snow tires. Linnea sang along with White Christmas, the Elvis version, her thoughts immersed in Christmas planning.
She’d just crooned the chorus along with The King when a deer leapt into the glare of her headlights. Her right boot slammed the brake, and she pulled the wheel to the left, trying to avoid the deer - everything her Dad told her never to do.
An icy patch sent her car spinning. Linnea gripped the wheel unable to tell where she was on the road. A tipping sensation happened first, then the crunch of branches and the shatter of glass.
Nothing prepared her for the explosive detonation of the airbags. Like a Mike Tyson punch from her chest to her face, she slammed back with blinding speed. Unable to breathe or think, her mind blanked, and she lost consciousness, but not for too long. When she sucked in a breath of the chemical air, she still heard Elvis crooning.
&
nbsp; Suspended at an odd angle, still trapped in the seatbelt, Linnea assessed the damage to her body. A tangy metallic taste of blood coupled with searing pain across her face meant she’d likely broken her nose. Her wrists and forearms felt like a sandblaster had scraped away skin. Both ankles hurt, but she could move her feet and hoped nothing was broken.
The smell of gasoline worried her, but at least the vehicle wasn’t running. Some lights from the dash still illuminated the ghostly space. White powder coated the interior, the windshield had shattered but held, and glass from the passenger side window glittered in the low greenish light across the seat. A tangle of branches and dirt now filled the passenger window’s space.
“Oh God,” she moaned moving her head slowly. Linnea closed her eyes and tried to think. If only the music would stop, Jingle Bell Rock mocked her from a single working rear speaker.
“Okay, at least I’m not dead,” Linnea said as the biting cold urged her to take action.
“I need to get out of here.” Wedged into the deep ditch, Linnea felt like a fir tree swallowed her car whole. Only the driver’s side seemed to be clear of branches, but the door would not budge. Bracing her arm on what remained of the steering wheel she eased her hand to her hip and released the seatbelt. It dangled, unable to retract. Using the strap as a harness of sorts, she eased herself forward, testing the windshield as a possible exit, but the shattered glass held fast.
“Damn, it. I’m not staying here all night! Help!” she yelled, knowing the sound wouldn’t be heard on this remote road. Blood trickled from her nose to her mouth, looking down she saw the front of her sweater soaked in a darkening blotch.
She needed to find something to stop the flow. Laying against the passenger door two brown boxes held her only reachable supplies. First, she grabbed the smaller parcel and tore away the stubborn tape. The packing paper was too stiff to put on her face, but the fleecy interior of Ricky’s jacket would help. Holding up the miniature coat for a moment, she sighed, hating what she had to do next. Applying the soft coat to her face, she sopped up the blood and applied painful pressure to stem the flow.
