“I could try walking to a neighbor’s house. Maybe they can help.”
“There won’t be anyone for miles. These vacation homes are mostly used in the summer, not the winter.”
“I can’t just sit here and do nothing!”
“It could still be food poisoning,” he whispered. “And you aren’t doing nothing. You’re here with me, so I don’t have to go through this alone.”
I climbed onto the bed as gingerly as I could and fought back tears as I curled myself against his back. I’d never felt more helpless.
I kept hoping he’d turn a corner, but he only got worse as the day wore on. The pain in his abdomen got so intense that it hurt him to breathe. I kept checking our phones, but there was still no service. Why the hell didn’t this cabin have a landline, or a thermometer?
He felt blazing hot to the touch, so I kept changing out the icepacks on his forehead. His gray T-shirt was soaked with sweat. It got harder and harder for him to move without being totally overwhelmed with pain.
Eventually, I said, “Show me again where the pain is.”
“It hurts too much to straighten out.”
“I know, sweetheart,” I said gently, “but please show me anyway.”
He fought back a moan as he rolled onto his back, his beautiful face contorted in agony. “It all hurts,” he whispered.
“Where is it the worst?”
He raised a shaky hand and held it over his belly button. But then he shifted it down and to the right. Fear shot through me as I blurted, “We have to go to the hospital. Now.”
He curled up again and asked, “Why?”
“Because I’m pretty sure it’s your appendix. If it ruptured, or if it’s about to, it could kill you.” I ran and grabbed our coats and boots, and after I put mine on, I said, “Sit up, baby.”
“We can’t go anywhere,” he mumbled. “We’re snowed in.”
“I’m getting you to the main road, even if I have to carry you.”
He cried out in pain when I helped him sit up. Somehow, I managed to get his feet into his boots and his arms into his coat. Then I let him rest for a minute while I ran and found our car keys.
The walk to the garage felt like an eternity, even though it was attached to the house. He was doubled over and moaning in pain. I tried my best to support him as he leaned on me heavily. Finally, I got him into the passenger seat and reclined it for him. He curled back into a ball.
I hurried around the van and hit a button on the wall. When the garage door opened, it revealed a four-foot wall of snow.
Panic welled up in me, but when I ran over and pushed at the wall, some of it fell into the driveway. The snow beyond the drift that had built up against the house was half as deep. That wasn’t great, but it seemed slightly less impossible.
I slid behind the wheel and turned to look at Devon. His complexion was almost gray, and his face was covered in a sheen of sweat. He wasn’t unconscious, but he didn’t exactly seem lucid, either.
I took a deep breath and fastened his seatbelt over him. As I put mine on, I tried to psych myself up and gather some confidence. I didn’t have a license, but I’d been taught how to drive in my teens. I was scared to try it now, especially since I’d never driven in snow, and we didn’t have chains for the tires. Since it was a couple of feet deep, I was pretty sure we’d get stuck if we came to a stop. It was going to be slippery, too. What if we crashed? This was probably a terrible idea, but I had to try, for Devon’s sake.
The private road was maybe half a mile long, and the first part was fairly straight. I’d deal with the sharp curves at the end when we got to them. I started the engine, but then it took me a minute to find the headlights. It was probably five p.m., but it was already dark out.
Once I figured out how to turn on the lights, I threw it into gear, and the van lurched forward. The jolt when we hit the snow drift made Devon cry out in pain. I whispered, “Sorry, baby,” and slammed the gas pedal.
We started to slide as soon as we were on the snow, but we were moving forward, too. As long as I didn’t stop, this might work.
My heart was racing as we barreled down the road, fishtailing every few feet. Wet clumps of snow landed on the windshield, smearing when I turned on the wipers. All the while, I kept up an internal chant.Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.
We might have made it, if it wasn’t for the curves near the end of the road. I managed to make it around the first one, but rounding the second bend sent us sliding sideways. I turned the wheel frantically, but it was no use.
When we finally stopped sliding, we’d left the road and landed nose-down in a ditch. I tried backing us out, but the wheels spun uselessly.
I got out, ran around to the passenger side, and flung the door open. “We have to walk to the main road, baby,” I told Devon, as I tried to help him out of the van. He fell to the ground and curled into a ball. I tugged at him as I begged, “Please, baby, I need you to come with me. I love you so much, Devon. Please don’t give up.”
