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The man slowed the car and remarked, “They musta stayed open to help people in the storm.”
Thank God.
“Thank you,” Ravinia said to the couple, then practically bolted from the car when it slid to a stop. Quickly, she half walked, half ran over the powder, snow crunching beneath her boots as she reached the steps of the market. She had been here before a few times and knew the owners normally closed at ten. She didn’t care why they were still open this night. She was just glad she might be able to get help.
Stepping inside, she noticed a small crowd hanging out not far from the cash register. Several tables with red-checkered cloths were situated off to one side, near a deli counter. A number of people were seated at them, drinking coffee or tea, and the smells of cinnamon and other spices wafted through the warm interior. Ravinia’s mouth watered as she wound her way through the tables to the counter, dripping a trail of wet snow and water like most of the others before her, if the wetness of the wood floor was any indication. There was a woman at the cash register, and Ravinia recognized her and thought she was one of the store’s owners.
“I need a phone. It’s an emergency.”
“Ravinia?” a voice called from behind her.
She whipped around and was blindsided to see Earl’s familiar, slightly stooped form. “Earl! What are you doing here?” She was so relieved to see someone she knew, she could have cried.
“Came to get groceries for you all, but there was some need for my truck. People stuck.”
A young man with jet-black hair that fell over his forehead and a suspicious look in his blue eyes sidled up next to him and studied Ravinia. She ignored him, had no time for strangers.
“I . . . we need help,” she said tautly. “It’s Aunt Catherine. She’s unconscious. Something happened after she was talking to you. I found her in the snow outside, and we took her into the lodge, but she was out cold. I need to call nine-one-one.”
“Catherine?” Earl blinked. “She’s okay, though?”
“I don’t know!”
“You don’t have a phone?” the suspicious man with Earl asked in disbelief.
“We use public phones,” Ravinia snapped back. It was Catherine who gathered phone numbers and made calls whenever she went into town. The rest of them didn’t have any reason to use a phone, according to Catherine, and now the worst had happened.
The man pulled a cell phone from his pocket, handed it to Earl, and said, “Hit the green phone button and then nine-one-one.”
Earl didn’t hesitate. He did as he was instructed and began talking to the 9-1-1 operator. The task out of her hands, Ravinia felt her legs tremble, and she grabbed one of the chairs and sat down hard at a table with a middle-aged couple who were bundled in ski jackets and holding gloved hands.
“Our car broke down,” the man said to her, though she hadn’t asked. “Earl, there . . .” He nodded toward the groundskeeper. “He helped us.”
Ravinia nodded. Earl helped everybody. That was apparently what he did, though she knew little about him as a person. She’d rarely spoken to him herself. He and Catherine were thick as thieves, and it generally kind of pissed Ravinia off, though she couldn’t say why.
“What’s your story?” the man at the table asked her.
Ravinia hesitated from years of training and secrecy, then realized all the solitude and rules of Siren Song were about to change and she didn’t need them anymore, anyway. “My aunt is unconscious and was lying in the snow for a long time. I came for help.”
The woman placed a hand to her chest, empathizing. “Oh, no. Is she all right?”
Ravinia was saved from engaging in further explanations by Earl’s approach. “They already sent someone,” he said gruffly. His gray hair, once black, was shaved beneath the hat on his head, and he frowned, looking around the room.
“What? What do you mean?” Ravinia demanded. “To the lodge?”
“Someone called in before I did.”
“Who? How? To nine-one-one?” Ravinia asked in disbelief.
Earl turned away, handed the younger man back the phone, and said, “The truck’s all loaded. We should go.”
“Go?” Ravinia was on her feet, hands balled at her sides. “Where?”
“Back to the lodge,” he told her. “Climb in beside Rand, if you’re coming.”
Ravinia followed them outside and toward the truck. The truck’s bed was covered by a bright blue tarp, which was now almost obliterated by snow. “What the hell?” she demanded as Earl got behind the wheel and Rand yanked open the passenger-side door, which screeched in protest.
“We’re going to see that Catherine’s okay. You can come or not.” Earl clearly didn’t care what she did. She turned from him to the younger man, who was holding the door open for her. Too relieved that help had come for her aunt to object, she simply climbed into the cab and Rand squeezed in beside her.
