3 Swift Run (23 page)

A little worried, what with the snow and all, I was about to call Kendall’s cell phone
when I decided to check messages on my phone first. Kendall’s voice told me she was
spending the night with a friend since District 12 had already canceled classes the
next day due to the blizzard. I deleted the message, sighing. I wished she’d asked
first. My mother would have skinned me alive if I’d ever gone to a friend’s house
after school, never mind overnight, without asking permission. I listened to the other
messages, but there was nothing from Dexter. Where could he be in this storm? He’d
been going to catch a ride home from school with his buddy James, so maybe that’s
where he was. I’d call over there as soon as I’d changed.

Fifteen minutes later, wrapped in my pink velour robe and wearing the fuzzy slippers
with the bear heads on them that Kendall had given me two Christmases ago, I went
downstairs to the kitchen. Nolan danced around my ankles. “You’re going to trip me,”
I told him.

He raced down the remaining stairs and stopped at the basement door. “Rrr-ruff.”

“Silly dog.” I passed him. Should I make fettucine Alfredo, which sounded really good
on a cold night like this, or warm up a Lean Cuisine for dinner? I caught a glimpse
of the elliptical machine in the living room out of the corner of my eye and guiltily
decided on Lean Cuisine. I hadn’t used the elliptical since before Christmas. Well,
no one can keep up with an exercise plan during the holidays. Nolan stayed by the
door and scratched at it with one paw.

“Is Dexter down there?” I asked him. I opened the door, but it was dark. “Dexter?”

No answer. Nolan stood on the top step and barked, and I wondered if maybe we had
mice. Not again. We’d been positively overrun by them a couple of winters back when
it got really cold, and Les had called an exterminator. Kendall had cried about the
poor cute mice and called Les a mouse murderer. She’d offered to catch them herself
and release them in the wild. Les hadn’t thought much of that plan and had paid the
exterminator extra to get here sooner. Kendall hadn’t talked to either of us for two
weeks. I hoped we didn’t have to go through all that again. Leaving the door cracked,
I returned to the fridge and was getting out a Lean Cuisine when I decided it would
be better to heat up the rest of the pizza. I didn’t want it to go to waste.

I set the oven to preheat, positioned the remaining three slices of pizza on the rack,
and was looking for James’s phone number when I heard a strange noise. A bump. Like
someone knocking against a table or chair. I started.

“Dexter? Are you home?” I could see the garage door was locked, so I left the kitchen
and crossed the living room to check the front door. Locked. I peered out the window
but saw nothing but snow turning the yard into a jumble of white shapes. Nolan had
gone with me, but now he trotted back to the basement door. I followed him, tightening
the belt on my robe.

I eyed the door uneasily. Scenes from slasher movies I’d stupidly gone to see played
in my mind. There was always a scene where the babysitter goes into the basement,
even though there are reports of a serial killer on the loose, or the teenaged couple
sneak into the basement to make out, even though escaped convicts are in the area.
The last thought brought a memory to mind, and I yanked open the door, suddenly more
mad than scared.

“Dexter, I’m coming down. If you’ve got a girl down there, you’re grounded until you
graduate.” Six months ago, Kendall had gone downstairs to play Wii and stumbled over
Dexter and a girl (whose name I had deliberately blocked) “going at it” on the couch.
She’d said they were naked, but they both had clothes on by the time I got downstairs.
Thank heavens! It was the first time I’d really, really wanted Les back in a long
time. Chewing out your teenaged son for “going at it” with a naked girl in the basement
is a father’s job. I’d stumbled through a talk where I think I’d said “too young”
at least a dozen times and worked in “respect” and “consequences” and “your sister
has to sit on that sofa” a few times each. I don’t know which of us was the most embarrassed,
although I think it was me.

I hurried down the stairs, feeling clumsy in the bear slippers. Nolan beat me down.
“I’m at the bottom of the stairs now,” I warned, not wanting to take naked teenagers
by surprise. I didn’t even want to think about my baby boy naked with a girl, never
mind see it in the flesh. I didn’t hear anything. No sounds of people dressing, which
I took as a good sign.

“I’m turning on the lights now.” I flicked the switch. The lights sprang on. No naked
teens. No anything, actually. The game room with its sofa, beanbag chairs, Ping-Pong
table, and wide-screen TV was empty. “Nolan, you silly dog, there’s no one here,”
I said, almost light-headed with relief. Nolan
arf
ed at me and wagged his tail.

Then I thought about the guest room. The guest room with its queen-sized bed. Surely
Dexter couldn’t be shameless enough to … I hurried down the short hall, not bothering
with any warnings now, and flung open the bedroom door. It smacked into the wall,
and I winced. Enough light from the other room filtered in so I could tell there was
no one here. Unless they were hiding in the closet, and that was just silly.

Letting my breath out in a long
whew,
I smoothed the rumpled coverlet on the bed and decided to answer the call of nature
before going back to the kitchen. Stepping into the three-quarter bath in the hall,
I put out my hand for the light switch and touched someone’s face.

29

It took Charlie and Dan almost twenty-five minutes to trudge the half mile to the
exit, with Dan walking in front to shield Charlie from the worst of the wind. No cars
had passed since they’d been walking, and a cell phone call to the state police hadn’t
given hope of rescue anytime soon.

“We’ve got half a dozen motorists stranded on that stretch,” the helpful officer said,
“and we’re trying to get to you as soon as possible. We’ve got a plow making its way
down from Fort Collins and another going west on 34 out of Greeley, but it’s slow
going. Sit tight and stay warm. Don’t panic.”

Dan had told them what mile marker they were at and said they were planning to walk
to the exit. The cop had sounded dubious about their cross-country hike but mentioned
there was a small convenience store with one gas pump at the exit. “I doubt old Fred’s
there, though; he usually closes up when the first snowflake falls. Cantankerous old
goat.”

Now, shivering with cold despite her heavy coat and boots, Charlie surveyed the featureless
white landscape. Blowing snow made it difficult to see more than ten feet in front
of her face. When the wind shifted direction for a few seconds, she thought she saw
a small building, its outlines blurred by accumulated snow. She pointed. “There. That
must be it.”

They headed west down a slope that might have been an access road and reached the
convenience store ten minutes later. It was disappointingly dark, with no sign of
life. Its single gas pump was almost hidden by a drift. Luckily, the front of the
building was out of the wind’s path, and the drifts had piled against the rear of
the building, leaving Charlie and Dan access to the door. Charlie rattled it. Locked.
Making a visor of her hand, she leaned against the window and scoped out the interior.
Rows of canned or boxed foods, refrigerator cases, counter and cash register, coffeemaker.
And a sign that spoke to her:
RESTROOMS.

“Ideas?” she asked Dan.

“I don’t think we’re likely to get an invitation,” he said, drawing a gadget from
his pocket that appeared to be a Swiss Army knife on steroids. Snow crusted on his
eyebrows, and Charlie wondered if hers were similarly icy. With surprisingly deft
fingers, he located the gadget he wanted, scored the glass around the lock with it,
and tapped the glass inward.

Charlie’s eyes widened. “You carry a glass cutter with you?”

“Habit.”

Habit?
Charlie asked herself. She didn’t know many priests or pastors in the habit of carrying
any tool more exotic than a corkscrew to a parish dinner, certainly not knives and
glass cutters.

“Never know when it might come in handy,” Dan added, reaching through the hole to
unlock the door. He pushed it open and they stepped in, closing it behind them. The
stillness and quiet were like a warm blanket after the wind’s fury. Charlie took only
a moment to savor the peace before scuttling to the bathroom. When she emerged, fluorescent
bulbs sputtered overhead, illuminating short aisles of chips and Wonder bread, Band-Aids
and magazines. Dan stood with his back to her, fiddling with the coffee machine. Even
though a warm beverage had some appeal, Charlie headed past him and liberated a Pepsi
from one of the refrigerator cases. She hesitated.

“I feel weird about this. Is this stealing?”

“We’ll leave money to cover what we eat and to pay for having the door fixed,” Dan
said. He turned toward her as he spoke, and she found something incredibly comforting
in the breadth of his shoulders and his calm expression. “It’s an emergency. No one
would begrudge us hospitality in such a situation.”

Charlie wasn’t quite as convinced about the store owner’s generosity, but she twisted
the cap on the Pepsi and took a long drink. “Much better,” she declared, crossing
to Dan. He directed a stream of hot water into a foam cup and plunked a tea bag into
it. “No coffee?”

“This is quicker.”

“It’s cold in here.”

“Heat’s turned off.”

Looking around for something to plug the hole they’d cut in the glass, Charlie found
a sponge and cleaning rag in a utility closet and stuffed them in. “Better,” she muttered,
still cold enough to keep her jacket zipped all the way up. “How long do you think
we’ll be here?”

Shrugging, Dan wandered the aisles, idly eyeing the merchandise and sipping his tea.
“A few hours at least.” He plucked something from a shelf. “Want a Hostess Fruit Pie?”

Charlie’s eyes lit up. “Cherry? I haven’t had one of those since I was a kid.” She
remembered bouncing in the old truck down the dirt road leading from Grandy and Gramps’s
farm in rural Washington to Emerson’s General Store on a Saturday afternoon and being
allowed to pick out one treat. She’d usually gone for a cherry fruit pie, although
she liked Ding-Dongs, too. Her Gramps would stand there, shaking his head, a faint
smile on his lips, unable to understand how she could want the processed pie when
Grandy’s pies were justly famed across three counties.

Quickly peeling off the wrapper, she sank her teeth into the still-familiar pastry
that was too thick and too sugar-crusted and felt the too-sweet cherry goo ooze into
her mouth. “Oh, yum,” she said, closing her eyes.

Dan laughed and opened a container of beef jerky. There were no chairs, so they settled
with their backs against the counter that supported the coffee machine since it was
the farthest away from the refrigerator cases and the doors. They sat with shoulders
touching, knees drawn up, and munched in silence for a few minutes, listening to the
wind whip at the building. Water drip-dripped from the hot water spout into the spillover
tray. The warmth and the food were enough to make Charlie drowsy.

“I could use a nap.”

Dan patted his shoulder. “I’ve been told I make a good pillow.”

“Really? Who told you that?” Charlie studied his craggy face with interest, suddenly
feeling less sleepy.

Dan hesitated only a moment. “My wife.”

Charlie stifled the urge to screech, “Your what?” sensing that Dan’s confidence marked
a turning point in their relationship. “I didn’t know you were married,” she said
after a moment.

“No reason you should,” Dan said, sliding her a sideways look.

“In a galaxy far, far away,” Charlie murmured, letting her eyelids sink to half-mast.
Who knew slogging through knee-deep snow in a blizzard was so exhausting? Her head
drifted toward Dan’s shoulder. “What was she like?”

“Passionate,” Dan said, his voice level and impersonal, “about all sorts of things,
about life. Kind. Loved animals and children.”

“Do you—?”

“No.”

Charlie couldn’t tell if he was sorry about not having kids or not. “I was married
once, too,” she offered. “His name was Brad. He was a fighter pilot through and through:
brash, brave, a touch arrogant. We got married as young lieutenants. It lasted a little
over two years, until each of us figured out we didn’t really want brash, brave, and
a touch arrogant in our partners.”

Dan chuckled, his shoulder shaking under Charlie’s head.

“Why did you split up?” she asked.

“We didn’t. Rilla died.”

Charlie sat up and stared at his profile. “Oh, Dan. I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Before you were a priest?”

“Long before.” He turned to look at her, his eyes their usual serene blue, his face
disturbingly close. “It seems like another lifetime.”

Charlie felt flustered by the intensity of his gaze, off balance. She wanted to ask
what he’d done before becoming a priest, how Rilla died, whether he’d had any serious
relationships since, but something about the intimacy of being snowed in, of their
enforced togetherness, made her wary of inviting more revelations. “That fruit pie
made me thirsty,” she said, getting up awkwardly and stamping a foot that had fallen
asleep. “I need some water.”

“Get me one, too, while you’re up.”

“Sure.” With a lurching gait, wincing at the prickles in her foot, she headed for
one of the refrigerator cases. When she was halfway there, a door at the rear of the
store burst open, letting in a blast of wind, a drift of snow, and a man with a shotgun.

30

“Aaah! Eee-yow!” I ran screaming from the bathroom, looking for something, anything
to use as a weapon. My slippers made me clumsy, and I stumbled into the Ping-Pong
table. Grabbing a paddle, I looked around for the phone. The kids rarely put it back
on its base, and it wasn’t there now. Could I make it to the stairs?