Chapter 29

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Caroline

I add wood to the hearth, then sink onto the sofa, the room feeling emptier than before. The fire crackles softly, its warmth doing little to chase away the chill that has settled in my heart. I touch my lips, the feel of Calvin's mouth still with me, as my mind races with questions. Have we crossed a line that changes everything?

To keep my mind occupied, I spent the last half hour checking out the house. I like the sound of that better than snooping . But I suppose it's okay if I'm going to be living here for a few days. I found a box of old baseball cards, an ancient guitar patched up with Jimi Hendrix stickers, and an impressive collection of vinyl from the sixties.

Calvin is retro, that's for sure. The biggest score was an old photo album. It's beside me now on the sofa, open to a photo of Calvin dressed like a hippie, with a headband, fringed vest and bell-bottoms. This, despite the fact that he was only a little kid in the heyday of the sixties. For a moment I consider the photo is of his father but I'd know that intelligent, amused expression anywhere.

I'm stuck with the weight of uncertainty. I wrap the knitted throw I found in the linen closet around my shoulders and stare into the fire, trying to find clarity in the dancing flames. The kiss, unexpected and powerful, opened a door I'm not sure I'm ready to walk through. My heart and mind are at war, each pulling me in a different direction.

I sigh, leaning back and close my eyes. For now, I let the warmth of the fire and the memories of the kiss envelop me, hoping that, in time, the answers will become clear.

I must have dozed off. Likely, a food coma from the Bobby burger. I go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water, then reach for my phone. I need to call Sam, see if she resolved the crisis she started telling me about.

I sit down and grab a cookie from Aunt Pearl's stash then tap Sam's number. Nothing happens. I try again. Weird. The phone has battery power but the call is not going through. Maybe something is wrong on Sam's end. I type in a text asking her to call but get an error message. I feel a tingle.

Out of the corner or my eye I sense movement near the window and turn my head.

The sill is coated in an inch-and-a-half of snow, swirling flurries quickly padding the piling. I stand up and look outside, stunned at what I'm witnessing. There's a tempest outside.

While I slept, the storm Aunt Pearl warned us about has arrived.

I grab my phone and note the time. I've been sleeping for over an hour. My nerves ratchet up. The problem with the phone service is on my end. The cell towers must be down.

Thank heavens the lights are still working. Hopefully the cables are underground and I'll be okay. I make a mental note to grab all the blankets in the house and put them in my room. Just in case.

I hear the wind howling. The lamppost on the sidewalk casts a heavenly glow as heavy flakes blow horizontally, setting the foundation for sizable drifts. Not a car or human in sight.

It's beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Everything is covered in a blanket of fresh, undriven snow. The stillness is whole.

I'm stranded but not panicky. I'm in Vermont in December, surrounded by a magnificent snowfall. I'm indoors, safe and warm. What's the worst that can happen? Miss Christmas in Manhattan? I have no plans, no one to spend it with.

The movie, Misery , comes to mind and I force the thought away. Last thing I need is to fill my own head with Stephen King plots.

I recall the New York Blizzard of 2010. I know how dangerous a white-out can be. Elderly become homebound, sometimes without heat or provisions. The roads become perilous, leading to spinouts and pileups.

Car accidents.

Oh no.

Calvin.

I step back from the window and begin pacing the living room, unsure what to do. Night is falling and I have no way to check on Calvin. And what about Aunt Pearl? I don't know exactly where she lives and couldn't walk there in this weather even if I did. I hope she's all right but suspect she's been through this a few times before. Actually, she predicted this storm.

I consider bundling up and fighting my way to the house up the road to use their phone to call Calvin and Pearl but nix the idea. Surely, the neighbors use the same cell tower.

I'm beside myself. I let Calvin walk out with that awful strain between us.

"Please keep him safe," I pray, softly, a tear forming in the corner of my eye.

And just like that, the door opens.