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“We must’ve just missed you,” Carter tells my dad casually.
“We’ve been here the whole time… only stepped out for a minute, on account of the weather... What? You did, huh? I’ll put her on,” he adds gravely, testing the length of the old style handset as he brings it over to the couch.
“He already spoke to the owners. I don’t know how much he knows,” is all Carter murmurs, shrugging and sitting next to me as he passes me the phone with his hand over it.
“Hi, Dad!” I blurt out, sounding way too enthusiastic. He only left a few hours ago and not on super great terms with either of us as far as I remember.
He didn’t want to go, but maybe staying would have been worse.
This whole Carter and me thing. It’s happened and it would have happened if he was here or not, we both know that.
“I’m fine honey,” Dad says, breathing a sigh out loudly. “I just wanted to hear your voice. I was pretty horrible with you both when I left. Carter and I had words by the helicopter… Is he still mad at me?” he asks, sounding innocent.
Like a child, as if how I feel and what Carter thinks of him are the most important things.
Because I guess to my dad they are. We’re the only family he’s got.
But I don’t feel guilt like I thought I would.
I feel sad. Sad for my dad and sad knowing what all of this is gonna do to him, but I don’t tell him that.
Not yet.
It’s too soon and it’s not something we can talk about over the phone, which has a terrible connection that crackles and snaps like an old radio.
“Carter’s not mad, daddy,” I whisper, watching Carter move away to give us privacy. But it’s obvious he wants to know what dad’s saying too.
I’ll fill him in on everything.
“Well, even if he was I’m sure he wouldn’t bother you with it,” he adds absently.
“Say. What’s all this going outside. I’ve been tracking the weather from this end and it looks like you two will be snowed in for at least another day, maybe two,” he exclaims, the worry returning to his voice.
The same tone he had before he left.
“Yeah, it’s coming down,” I tell him, suddenly wincing in pain as I forget about my ankle, trying to sit up.
“What is it, sweetie? What was that, are you hurt?” Dad asks, his voice growing more concerned now like he’s starting to join some dots of his own.
“It’s nothing. I just slipped and sprained my ankle,” I groan softly, hearing Carter shift back into range as he makes his own little noise of annoyance.
“You what! Sweetie, why didn’t you tell me? I’ll have them fly in and get you out, first thing once there’s clear weather. Put Carter back on will ya?” he says, using his boss from work voice that I know from experience is pointless arguing with.
Grimacing, I hold the phone out to Carter and mouth the word sorry.
I feel like I might’ve just blown the whole thing for us both.
But Carter being Carter, he doesn’t miss a beat and stands by his promise to me.
“I know, I know Greg. She’s fine… Look! I’m a trained medic too for god’s sake. I know a sprain when I see one… Okay, okay. Just didn’t want to trouble you with it on top of everything else… How’s it going on your end? Uh-huh…”
Carter seems to be able to talk my dad down from anything, and his own commanding voice gives my dad’s boss voice a run for its money any day.
Carter explains he’s waiting for the weather to clear, then he’ll get us both out. I feel a little relief, like Carter’s taking charge. Letting my Dad know he’s gonna take care of me like I always dreamed he would.
Whisk me away and be my fantasy man that loves me more than anything.
I just guess I imagined very different circumstances.
Tropical island maybe, or the river where he jet skied.
Not some frozen wasteland we’re both stuck in and a swelling ankle that makes my regular puffy ones look petite.
The sound of his deep voice breaks my reverie, and I feel a little stab of panic, knowing just how much Dad hates not being in control.
How much he’ll hate the idea of Carter being in charge of me, as well as his truck.
What about Dad’s truck and gear? We can’t just drive out of here, surely?
Carter’s eyes meet mine and I feel instantly calm.
His jaw is set and his brooding eyes dance with the light of a man who has more than one plan, all of which he knows he’s in complete control of.
I’m glad one of us does.
“Well. I can have us both flown out like you were, but I’d prefer to take your truck and gear. Save us from coming back for it later,” he tells my Dad, who I can just feel hurling a million questions at him.
