CHAPTER 3

 

Snow crunched under my tires, the engine overloud in the silence as I examined the drive up ahead. I was tired and hungry, not quite sure which one beat out the other as my car slowly trudged along.

“Ah-hah. It’s this one.” Squinting, I pulled into the U shaped gravel drive, a quick but pleased half-smile flashing across my face, that pinkish blush of pleasure tugging at my already rosy cheeks.

I’d had the heater going full blast since I’d filled the tank up that last time an hour back, and my flushed cheeks were taking the brunt of it. A small price to pay to stay warm, I’d say.

“I’m here,” I whispered excitedly, cutting the engine as soon as I threw it in park. I was like a little kid, I couldn’t get outta this car fast enough. A tiny, internal squee started to build inside of me, my lips tugging up until my face hurt, I was so amped up.

Tossing a quick text to Joanie to let her know I’d made it alive, I shoved my cell in my purse and reached around towards the back seat for my bags. Tugging the cumbersome bundles through the middle to the front, I righted myself, pulled the door handle, kicked my door open, and promptly tumbled out.

Flopping onto the cold ground on my hands and knees, my eyes lit up at the sight of all the snow blanketing me.

“I’m surrounded,” I whispered softly. Nothing was going to get me down right now. Nothing.

Fingers sinking into a pile of that glorious, white, fluffy stuff, I curled them into fists, cupping handfuls.

“It’s beautiful.” The grin that split my face was nothing short of delighted. This is perfect.

Scrambling to my feet, dusting my hands off on my pants, I hefted my bags and slammed my car door shut, trudging my way up the walk. It was hard to see, it was so dark, but I didn’t mind. Dumping my things on the small wraparound front porch, I dug through my pockets for the key.

After a few fumbling tries, I managed to get the key out and into the keyhole, and turn it, and finally get the blasted thing unlocked. Turning the knob, the door opened with a rusty creak.

“Right,” I said aloud, as if speaking to myself, “not ominous or creepy at all.” Fingers curling around the door jamb to slip inside, creeping along the wall, I felt around just inside. Grasping for a switch, the lights came on with a snick, and once more I found myself grinning, ecstatic.

Creep factor dimmed down to nil the second the lights popped on. “Sweet digs,” I murmured, in awe.

The place was small, sure, a single family cabin, open floor plan, oversized fireplace, a nook of a kitchen, but it was cozy, with sweet rustic accents. Once I settled in and got a fire going it would be nice and warm, comfortable. Easy-peasy. Nothing to it. With that idea in mind, I set to work.

 

˜˙˜*˜˙˜

 

“I’m never snow-cation-ing again,” I grumbled through chattering teeth, trudging thigh deep through the snow, headed to the side of the house where Lourdes had assured me, right before the storm took out the phone line, there was a wood pile. No, should be a wood pile, she’d said. Right over… there. Uhm, I think.

Rounding the corner, shivering my britches off, thankful the giant snow piles I was trying to shuffle through tapered off until they were just below mid-calf, I cried out in relief, spotting a thick tarp with fat chunks of wood sticking out. Working my way over to it, I gripped the edge of the faded blue, crunchy in my hands, crumbling and weather beaten material and shucked it back, groaning in disappointed anguish as three fat, but measly to my mind, lumps of wood stared back at me.

Flopping back on my ass, slumping down in the snow, I threw my head back and howled. Pounding the snow piled up high on either side of me, sending it tumbling into my lap and all around me, a giant dent where my ass had mashed that cold white, wet stuff to nothing, I had myself a right fit.

“Are you kidding me?!” I shouted to the heavens. I just wanted a little vacation, was that so much to ask? Yes, it felt like the answer was.

Lolling about like a moron in the snow as the urge to cry overtook me, I tugged the ugly blue and fluorescent orange hand-me-down beanie Joanie’d given me down farther on my fat head. The tassels dangling down the sides slapped at my face as the wind picked up, but I wasn’t really paying attention as I scanned the pretty forest landscape for a nice, sharp ax.

“If I’d known I was going to play Paul Bunyan and Miss Fix-It,” I grumbled gruffly, rolling to my feet and dusting myself off, “I’d have shut myself up at home and simply stayed put.”

 

˜˙˜*˜˙˜

 

It took much longer than I’d thought to chop wood. Granted, my lack of experience and know-how didn’t help any, or these jelly arms, but I’d given it the old college try.

“If only the water heater or the water worked,” I muttered petulantly, trying to warm my blistered hands by the fire, “then maybe I could have had a bath, or flushed the toilet!”

The lights chose that moment to flicker on and off one too many times, and I cursed soundly. Hopping up, I tossed the flannel blanket in my lap to the floor and began to pace the room angrily.

“Are you shitting me?!” I was trying to tough it out, I really was, but if it wasn’t one thing it was another.

Lourdes and Gordon had promised they’d have someone sent out for repairs as soon as they could, during our single, rather short and abrupt conversation, but that all depended on the roads and the weather. Which also meant I was stuck here in the meantime.

Glancing out the window, the peaceful serenity of the beautiful winter landscape before me, I suddenly really wanted to be a part of it.

“But it’s all crap. Crap. Crap. Crap.” Holding out my fingers, still a bit numb from the bite of the cold, blistered and bruised from trying to figure out how to hold that stupid, blasted ax—something I’d never thought my inept bum would ever have to do—they were proof enough.

Am I ever going to do anything good on this vacation? It’s barely started and already it sucks donkey balls.

Lips pursed, my brown eyes slid to the window again. I have mittens, they aren’t that damp, and it’s still light out... I mean, technically, I could build a snowman. Childhood memories of building them with Joanie flitted through my mind. Then, those few times we’d crafted them as adults. It had become kind of a within-the-vicinity-of-snow tradition. You can’t be a part of a snow storm without a snowman.

I could already hear Joanie bitching at me, in her typical Joanie fashion, about me wasting yet another wonderful opportunity and blah, blah, blah.

“Alright, so I had to chop some wood. So stuff isn’t working. I’ve got this. I can do this. The weather will clear, a repair person will come. It’ll all work out in the end.” My false bravado was doing worlds for that denial I was attempting to wrap myself up in. “Until then, though… This is my vacation after all, isn’t it? About time I did something, small as it may be, even minutely fun.”

A small smile played at my lips and I started for the kitchen, snagging my coat on the way. Yes, I think it’s time I build a snowman. “And I’m going to need a coffee the size of my butt to get me going to actually do it.”