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Getting to the lake from my house is a bit daunting since it sits higher up and not on the shoreline, but in town there’s a boat ramp that will take me straight onto it. While I could stay on the road and some of it may already be plowed, this direct path across to her house will be faster.
The sky is clear after the storm, and as the sun rises, the snow and ice sparkle and reflect the sunlight. It’s very bright, and I’m glad I grabbed the snow goggles to see.
Everything is calm, eerily so. I’m just a speck in the grand scheme of things, and all around me I’m fully surrounded by white, from the mountaintops down to me on the lake in the valley. It’s magnificent.
As I approach her house, I look for signs of life, and there is nothing. The unease that settled in from wondering if she is here becomes heavy, and worry gnaws at me. There should be light somewhere that was left on or smoke from the fireplace or something, but all I see is nothing and what looks like a vacant house. I ride the snowmobile straight into her backyard and stop it at the base of where her deck stairs should be.
“Emma?” I call out, but I’m met with silence. Saying her name feels strange. I’ve thought it so often over the last year but have rarely voiced it.
Kicking my way through the snow, I clomp up the stairs, creating a path, and run my gloved hand over the sliding glass door to wipe away the frost and peer inside. Nothing. It’s dark and quiet.
Maybe she isn’t here, but if she’s not, where is she? Why can’t Avery reach her?
Knocking hard on the glass door, I call her name again. It’s then I see movement on the inside.
Slowly, she moves to the door, and together we work to slide it open.
“W-What the hell are you doing here?” I ask her. She’s bundled up in so many layers she looks like a tiny purple marshmallow man, because of course she’s wearing purple—she always wears purple.
Tears well in her eyes, causing a rock to drop into my stomach, but anger tints her words. “Freezing. That’s what I’m doing. What are you doing here?” She attempts to cross her arms in front of her, but they don’t quite manage, so she drops them.
Her nose is pink, her lips look chapped, and there are dark circles under her eyes giving away how tired she is. Dark hair sticks out from under her ear band, and even though she’s freezing and stressed, I still think she’s so beautiful.
Anger at this thought swells inside me.
“Ash called. Avery’s worried,” I tell her as I look around the house. My eyes catch on a wood fireplace, and I can’t help but point at it as if she’s a moron and could have solved this problem. She follows my gaze, and her pale cheeks flush pink.
“Yes, Clay, I see the fireplace,” she mocks. “I didn’t know about the storm, and I just got here yesterday afternoon. The power went out around seven last night, I couldn’t get the generator to turn on, I’m pretty sure the pipes are now frozen as no water will come out, the firewood is wet, and now my car is snowed in and my cell phone is dead.”
The tears have returned and my stomach twists. I might be annoyed at how things have turned out between us, but I’m not a dick and I can see that she is struggling.
“How did you not know about the storm? They’ve been talking about it all week.” I glare down at her.
“I just didn’t. In my parents’ house, we listen to music, not the television,” she says defensively as she shivers.
“Grab your things.” I wave my gloved hand toward the inside of the house.
“Why?”
“Because you can’t stay here,” I practically growl. It didn’t occur to me when I set out on this errand for them that I was going to be rescuing her and bringing her back to my house.
To my house. In my space. Where I will be.
She looks at the ground and frowns. Her eyelashes are wet, and from this angle, the dark circles under her eyes are more pronounced. “Okay,” she says, defeat tinging her tone. “I didn’t unpack last night, just crashed and then woke up freezing.” She turns around and leaves me at the door. She isn’t gone but a few seconds and then she has with her a large overnight bag, a backpack, and her violin.
Without a word, I take them from her so she can close the sliding glass door and follow me down the steps to the snowmobile. I load them into the cargo box on the back, climb on, and wait. I can’t look at her. I don’t need to look at her. She knows what to do. Besides, I’m angry that she’s found herself in this situation and now so have I. I hear the click of the extra helmet I keep in the box, and she tentatively sits behind me then wraps her arms around my waist.
It takes me a second to fire up the engine as I take the moment and allow myself to acknowledge her hugging me. It’s been so long since someone other than family has hugged me, and ironically, I realize the last person was her.
With that depressing thought, I turn the key and off we go. It takes twenty minutes to get back to my house, and this time I don’t see any of the beauty of this winter morning. Mostly, I’m seeing red.
The second we pull into the garage, Moose starts barking.Not waiting for her to get off, I startle her as I swing my leg over and then walk to the shelves against the wall to store my helmet, goggles, and gloves. Emma comes to stand next to me and does the same.
“I’ve often wondered which house was yours. I knew you bought one, I just didn’t know where,” Emma says as I pop open the cargo box and grab her things.
I don’t say anything. What’s there to say?
When I open the garage door, which leads into the mudroom, Moose comes charging at full speed. Emma peeks around me and makes a delighted sound. It’s then that he spots her and completely abandons me for the pretty girl.
