Blindly Yours

SEVEN

Rose

D riving away from the city always throws me off balance. I like being surrounded by tall buildings. They feel protective. Familiar. But once I hit the interstate, the sky expands and I’m exposed. I don’t like the vast nothingness of the country. The lack of distraction is unsettling. There’s too much space to think.

I sit back and turn up the radio as multi-story apartments morph into cornfields and barns. I’m hoping I can make it up to St. Cloud before the weather rolls in, but the dark clouds in front of me seem to want to test my luck.

I wonder what BigSpoon is doing to prepare for the storm. If it gets bad enough, grocery stores might shut down for a day or two. Maybe he’s picking up the necessities.

It made my heart skip a beat to hear him say he’s been more open with me than he’s used to. There’s something unique between us, and I can’t wait to see what this might turn into.

Twenty minutes into my drive, soft white flakes begin to hit the windshield. “Great,” I mutter, switching cruise control off and reducing my speed. The interstate isn’t very busy, and I soon realize I’m the dumb one for trying to make the trip tonight. I should have just rescheduled for next weekend with Miss Evangeline. She would have understood.

Having lived in Minnesota my whole life, I’m used to driving in the snow, but it picks up fast tonight, and before I know it, I’m barely doing thirty. I can’t see three car lengths in front of me, and I consider turning around, but I’ve made it this far, and the drive home would be just as bad, so I trudge on.

Brake lights begin to come into focus ahead of me and I squint through the whiteout as traffic slows to a crawl. My phone pings, warning me of an accident ahead. It suggests an alternate route, so I take the next exit for Silver Creek.

Initially, I’m eager to get away from the mess of stopped cars. Maybe I’ll make better time this way. But I quickly realize my mistake. I’ve turned onto a rural road no one’s been down since the storm hit, and it’s covered in already drifting snow.

“Well, I’m dumb,” I mutter under my breath as I grip the wheel and make my way slowly down the narrow two-lane street.

It’s hard to see the edge of the pavement, and my Lexus wasn’t built for these conditions. My tires are starting to lose traction and I grasp the wheel tighter as I reduce my speed even more. It doesn’t help much, and now I can’t even tell if I’m staying in my lane. This isn’t a small storm. This is absolutely a blizzard and I’m absolutely not prepared.

An extra large gust of wind blows snow onto my windshield and suddenly I can’t see anything. I hit the brakes hard—which is the last thing anyone should do in the snow, and I know that—then I start to skid and the road slips out of view. It happens in slow motion, and there’s nothing I can do. I’m white-knuckled and holding my breath as the car slides off the road, just barely misses a telephone pole, and then gets caught in a drift, halting just before the ditch.

Then there’s only silence, save for the sound of my radio, which is still playing a top forty mix. My heart is pounding so hard it hurts, but I’m ok. The car is ok. Everything’s fine. I take a deep breath and gently press the gas, but the tires have no traction. They spin in place, kicking up snow in my rear-view mirror.

I try to reverse, but they just spin in that direction too. I’m completely stuck, and for a minute, I stare silently at the snow accumulating on my windshield. I’m alone in the middle of nowhere, in a blizzard. This is not good for so many reasons. I start to panic. This is how people die, isn’t it? Two days from now, my family will find me frozen to my seat like Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

But then I remember I have roadside assistance. I’m living in the twenty-first century. I pull out my phone and unlock the screen, but in the corner, I see the words NO SERVICE.

“What?” I squint out the window at the whiteout that surrounds me. I know I’m in the middle of nowhere, but it’s not so rural that I shouldn’t have cell service. I can feel my palms begin to sweat against the steering wheel. Alone. I’m alone and I can’t call for help.

I’m off the road, so no one is going to hit me…unless they skid in the same spot. I shudder, imagining a fast-moving semi colliding with my tiny sedan. But I don’t have a shovel, so there’s no way I’m getting out of here. Do I try to sleep in my car? I check the fuel indicator. I have half a tank left. Will it even run long enough to keep me warm all night if I have to stay here? I think I have a blanket in the trunk. No, there’d be nothing safe about sleeping on the side of the road. I mentally cross off that option.

Maybe I could try to walk to the nearest home or business. But would they even be open in the storm? I peer out the window, searching for any signs of life, but all I see is white. I have to find help, and the only way that will happen is if I head out into the storm alone. I start to unbuckle my seatbelt, but then a set of bright headlights pierces through the falling snow in my mirror. A large pickup truck grows closer and closer until it slows down to a stop beside me.

I grip the wheel tighter as someone gets out of the driver’s side and crosses in front of the headlights. It’s a man, and he’s dressed in a thick wool coat with a plaid scarf tied around his neck and mouth. His hat is pulled down so far it almost covers his eyes. He stops at my window and taps on the glass.

I hesitate because I’m not sure what to think. Is this man here to help me, or is he taking advantage of a woman stuck alone in the snow? Do I want to be stranded and then kidnapped, or just stranded tonight? I’ve already decided stranded alone is not an option, so I take my chances and roll my window down just a crack.

He’s peering down at the state of my snow-lodged tires when he speaks. “Need some help, ma’am?”

That voice.

I recognize it immediately. I roll my window down all the way and squint up at him as the cold rushes in. “Nate?”

He quickly turns his gaze to mine and recognition washes over him too. He pulls his scarf away from his mouth. “Ms. Astor?”

“What are you doing here?” I’m having trouble understanding why I’m seeing him outside the office, or at all .

“I live just down the road. I was checking up on some neighbors on my way home and saw your car. Where are you going in this weather?” He furrows his brow.

Great, because I’m not already having a crappy enough night, I need the third degree from him, too. “I’m headed up to St. Cloud. I was trying to beat the snow.”

He looks at my tires again. “Well, I’d say you failed on that front.”

I purse my lips and peer out at his truck. “Do you have a shovel or something? To dig me out?”

He shakes his head and almost laughs. “You’re not going anywhere tonight. The storm’s just started.”

I know he’s right, but I huff anyway. “Well, can I borrow your phone to call roadside assistance? Mine’s not working.”

“The cell signals in this area are out. Mine doesn’t work either.” He puts his gloved hands on his hips and stares at me.

Welp.

I chew on my lip as frozen air blows into the car through the open window. I glance at his truck, which seems to be clearing the compacted snow easily with its large tires. I hate that I’m going to have to ask him for a bigger favor. “Well, um, can you drive me to a nearby hotel or something?” I clear my throat. “Please?”

He scratches his beard. “Nearest hotel is in Monticello. That’s at least fifteen miles away. I’m not even sure my truck’ll get us that far. Besides, I’ve gotta get home.”

“Oh.” I look down at my lap. “Of course. No problem. I have a blanket here in the car. I’ll be ok.”

“You’re not sleeping in your car.” He laughs, takes a deep breath, and then lets it out as he scratches his cheek. “You could, um, stay at my place for the night. I have an extra room.”

I turn my gaze to his. He has to be kidding. “Oh, um, that’s…I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

He pulls his scarf tighter around his neck. “I’ll drive you back to your car in the morning and we’ll dig you out.”

This is so wildly different from the way I planned to spend my evening, and I desperately want to refuse him, but my gut knows how stupid that would be. So, I grab my purse from the passenger seat and then look at him once more. “Are you sure?”

He sighs. “Yes, now c’mon, the snow’s only gonna get worse.”

I turn off my car and he steps back as I open the door. I tentatively swing my feet out. I’m wearing flats—which I thought were the safe choice today—but they aren’t going to protect much against the snow.

He shakes his head when he sees them. “Most people wear boots in a snowstorm.”

“It wasn’t snowing when I left,” I mumble as he opens his passenger door and I take two quick steps through the snow to hop in.

“You have bags?” he asks.

“Two in the trunk, yes,” I reply, pressing a button on my key fob to open it.

While he retrieves them, I visually explore the inside of the truck cab. It’s surprisingly tidy. In the cupholder is a half-empty pack of Big Red chewing gum, and dangling from the rearview mirror is a multicolored beaded bracelet. I can just barely hear country music playing on the radio.

I hate country music, so I turn it off.

He puts my bags in the back seat, then he brushes the snow from his shoulders, climbs in, and shuts the door behind him. “Ready?”

I nod, and as he eases back onto the road, I can hear the snow crunching and creaking beneath the tires, but the truck moves with much more stability than my car did.

Nate clears his throat. “So, how’s the ceiling holding up, ma’am?” He squints through the veil of heavy flakes that fall in front of us.

I roll my eyes. “I think you can cut the formalities now. It’s Rose.”

“Fair enough,” he nods, then there’s a long pause. “So, what’s in St. Cloud?”

“A client lives there,” I reply, peering through the windshield at the barely visible set of tire tracks ahead of us.

“Wow, you make house calls?”

“We do for this one. She has almost five hundred million in the bank.”

Nate lets out a slow whistle.

I nod. “Yeah, it’s a lot.”

“I bet her shoes are even more expensive than yours.”

“You’re hilarious.” I cross my arms and stare out my window.

“Thanks, I’ll take the compliment.”

I want to tell him he’s annoying, and he’s a grump, and I’m tired of being teased, but he’s giving me a place to sleep tonight, so I zip my lips.

He doesn’t say anything else for the short drive, and he honestly doesn’t seem like he’s bothered by the silence. But I’m starting to wish the country music was playing again.

We pull into the driveway of a small ranch-style home, and almost half a foot of snow is piled on the roof already. Smoke spirals up from the chimney, and the lights are on inside, pouring warmth onto the sparkling snow-covered sidewalk.

Nate gets out first and crosses around to my side while I gather my purse. He opens my door and steps back. “I haven’t shoveled, but you can step in my footprints so you don’t ruin your shoes.”

It’s not a kindness I was expecting from him, but I’m grateful. I climb out and carefully follow him up the sidewalk. His footprints are large underneath my shoes, and I have to widen my step to land carefully in each one, but I make it to the door without completely ruining my flats.

He unlocks it and we step inside as warmth envelopes us both. When he offers to hang my coat in the closet, I use the opportunity to observe the room. There’s a stone fireplace crackling with flames situated at the far end, and there’s a small pile of chopped wood neatly stacked next to it. Facing the flames, an oversized leather couch is flanked by two wingback olive green chairs, and a large Persian rug covers almost the entire expanse of wide plank wood floors.

Through a doorway to the left is the kitchen, and to the right is a hallway. At the back of the room is a set of windows that look out at the white flakes falling in the dark.

After hanging my coat, Nate steps toward the hallway. “Kara, I’m home!”

Kara? I quickly glance at his left hand. I didn’t think he was married, and there is no ring there. Does he live with a girlfriend? But I’m only confused for a moment because a young child comes bouncing down the hallway with a big grin. She has fine, blonde hair, and spruce-blue eyes just like Nate’s. She looks maybe six years old. But when she sees me, her smile fades and she comes to stand shyly next to Nate.

He rests his hand on her back. “Kara, this is Miss Rose. She’s going to stay with us tonight during the storm. She’s a friend from work, and her car got stuck in the snow.” He turns to me. “This is my daughter, Kara.”

I open and close my mouth like a fish out of water for an embarrassing moment. I had no idea. I look at his empty ring finger again. This could get awkward if her mother is around. I don’t want anything to look weird.

He follows my gaze, and evidently, my train of thought. “It’s just us.”

I nod and turn my attention to Kara, smiling and extending my hand. “Hi, Kara. It’s nice to meet you.”

No longer seeing me as a threat, she confidently accepts the handshake. “My birthday was last week. I turned seven, and now Dad lets me tend the fire while he’s gone.” She points proudly at the crackling logs across the room.

Nate crosses his arms. “And yet, you were in your room when we came in. I think we talked about how you need to stay out here to watch it while I’m gone.”

She hops up and down, full of energy. “I was just getting a book real quick. Promise.”

Nate smiles slightly. It’s odd seeing an expression other than a frown on his face. “Well, I’m home now. I’m going to get Miss Rose’s bags from my truck. Will you show her to the guest room?”

Kara nods and starts down the hallway. “Follow me this way, Miss Rose.”

Nate disappears out the front door, and I follow the eager now seven-year-old to my room.

“I picked out the quilt,” Kara says as we step in. “Dad says I have a good eye for interior decorating.”

I look at the pink and orange floral pattern and grin. It’s beyond gaudy, but it actually matches the bubblegum-pink curtains perfectly. “You did a great job. It’s very cheery in here.”

“Thanks. Pink is my favorite color.” She walks over to the window and straightens one of the drapes. “Dad’s favorite color is green, but he said pink is his second favorite.”

I open my mouth to respond, but she’s not taking a breath before moving on.

“This bed is kinda hard in my opinion, but Dad says it would be a waste to buy a new one. My bed’s more comfortable though. We bought a new one when I turned six. I had a sleepover last weekend. Jackie, Maddy, and I all fit in my bed, even though it is small. We pretended it was a ship and we were on the ocean. Dad let us have s’mores and we roasted them over the fireplace. Maddy and Jackie don’t have wood fireplaces, so they thought it was so cool.” She grants herself one short breath. “Do you have a wood fireplace? I think I would be sad if I didn’t have one. Do you live in Silver Creek? I have to ride the bus to Annandale for school. That’s where Maddy and Jackie live. There’s a Dairy Queen in Annandale. Sometimes Dad picks me up from school and we get ice cream before dinner. He usually says no sweets before dinner, but sometimes he breaks that rule. I told him I want to move to Annandale so we can go to Dairy Queen anytime we want, but he said this is our home and we’re staying in Silver Creek, cause that’s what mom—”

“Alright, Kara,” Nate comes around the corner. “Let’s let Miss Rose get settled in.” He sets my bags down and guides her from the room. When he turns back to me, he nods with a thin line of his mouth. “I’m making baked chicken for dinner. It’ll be ready in about a half hour. We’ll let you get settled. The bathroom’s the first door on the left.”

I sit down on the bed and pull my phone out of my pocket. “Thanks…oh, what’s the wifi password?”

He shakes his head. “Internet’s out with the storm too. We’re lucky to have power. There’s a landline in the kitchen though, if you want to let someone know you’re safe.”

I hang my head with a sigh. “Alright, thanks.”

He nods and leaves, shutting the door behind him while I stare at my bags for a long moment, coming to terms with this odd reality. I wipe my hand down my face. This was not how I planned to spend my Friday night. I had a takeout order already scheduled at my favorite tapas bar downtown St. Cloud. I was going to get a bottle of wine and settle in for some trash TV in my hotel room. But instead, here I am, about to have dinner with my building’s backup repairman and his chatty seven-year-old.

I check my phone again, hoping in vain that service has been miraculously restored. BigSpoon and I planned to talk more tonight, and I wonder if he’s going to think I’m blowing him off. Over the last week, chatting with him before bed has grown sort of comforting. It’s already a habit I’m missing.

I pull up our messages from earlier this evening and re-read them like a hopeless romantic. Maybe he lost service too and he’s worried about me. Or maybe he’s just fine and not concerned about me at all. You know, like a normal human being.

Once I pull myself together, I use the bathroom and then make my way to the kitchen. Nate is pulling the chicken out of the oven and Kara is setting the table. They both look up at me.

“The phone’s there if you need to make any calls.” Nate points to a phone on the wall. It looks like the one my family had in our condo twenty years ago. It doesn’t have a cord, but it’s probably the first ever model that didn’t.

“Thanks,” I reply as I take the handset off its cradle and walk back into the living room.

I dial Junie’s number first. She picks up with a tentative, “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Rose. I have no cell signal, so I’m calling from a landline. I got stranded in the snow on my way to St. Cloud.”

“Oh no! Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Remember the guy who came to fix my ceiling at work?”

“Yeah…the hunk?”

I roll my eyes. “Turns out he lives out here in the middle of nowhere. He happened to drive by. He offered to let me stay at his place tonight.”

“Well, then…” There’s a teasing lean to her voice.

“I’m in the guest room, Junie.” I sigh, staring out the back window at an expansive yard covered in fresh snow. There’s a small white structure toward the back corner. It looks like a miniature shed.

“Well, I’m glad he was there,” she says.

I hear silverware clanking in the kitchen. “I’ve gotta go, dinner’s ready.”

“He made you dinner?”

“For me and his daughter, yes.”

“He has a daughter?”

I laugh. “I’ll fill you in later. I’ll text you as soon as I get service back.”

“K, call me if he gets weird or anything.”

“Thanks,” I laugh. “Night.” I end the call and immediately put one in to my mom. She seems a bit worried when I tell her I’m staying with basically a stranger but agrees it’s the safest option and asks me to call her in the morning.

Once I return to the kitchen, Nate and Kara are both sitting at the round oak table with empty plates.

“Oh, you didn’t have to wait for me.” I hang up the phone and slide into an open chair.

“Not a problem,” Nate pushes the chicken in my direction before putting a serving of broccoli and a dinner roll on Kara’s plate.

“How old are you?” Kara asks as she takes a bite of her roll.

“That’s not polite,” Nate scolds. “And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

I involuntarily align my napkin with my fork and then smile as I take a piece of chicken. “It’s ok. I’m twenty-six.”

Kara swallows her bite. “You’re really pretty. My dad’s twenty-nine. He’ll be thirty in July. Not that much older than you.”

“Kara, eat your broccoli,” Nate shakes his head as he puts some chicken on her plate, and then his.

I take a bite. It’s juicy, flavorful, and honestly delicious. It rivals even Helene’s famous garlic basil chicken. “This is really good. Thank you for letting me join.”

“We don’t have guests very often,” Nate says, focusing on his meal.

Kara takes a sip of water. “Where do you live?”

“Downtown,” I reply.

“Oooh, in one of those big, tall buildings?”

I smile. “Yep. I live on the fortieth floor.”

Her eyes go wide. “That’s so cool! I always wanted to live in a skyscraper. But Dad says we’re not moving to the city. He doesn’t like the tall buildings. Even though he works in them every day,” she giggles.

Nate stabs a piece of broccoli. “I think you’d miss your big backyard.”

She sits up straighter. “I’d go on the roof instead!” She turns to me. “Miss Rose, does your building have a rooftop you can go on?”

“I’m not actually sure,” I ponder. “I just moved in a few months ago, and I haven’t checked.”

Kara scoops a piece of chicken onto her fork. “You should definitely find out.”

“I think I will,” I confirm.

“What do you think you’d do on the roof?” Nate asks Kara.

“Build a giant playground with slides and hopscotch!” she exclaims. “Oh, and one of those spinny things.”

“What kind of spinny thing?” he asks, taking a bite.

“You know. Those ones that you stand on.”

“A merry-go-round?” I suggest.

“Yes!” She claps. “They used to have one at school, but they took it down this year. I miss it.”

“Well, we’ll have to find a park that still has one,” Nate replies.

“Miss Rose?” Kara asks me.

I take a drink. “Yes?”

“Do you want to help me gather the eggs from the chickens in the morning?”

Nate laughs dryly. “I don’t think she wants to do that. She might get a little dirty.”

I ignore him. “You have chickens?”

“Yeah! Six of them.” She puffs out her chest. “Dad and I raised them from chicks. You shoulda seen them back then. They were so cute and tiny and fluffy.” She cups her hands together like she’s holding one. “And they went ‘cheep, cheep, cheep.’”

“That’s really cool.” I smile. “Do you have any other animals?”

She nods eagerly. “We have a dog, but he’s at the trainer’s this week. Dad says he won’t chew up my shoes anymore when he gets back.”

I widen my eyes at Nate. “He chews shoes?”

He laughs again and winks. “Yeah, you should be glad he’s not here now.”

I glare at him.

“Miss Rose?” Kara asks. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Hmm…” I return my eyes to her and rub my chin. “Purple, I think.”

“I have a purple notebook in my room. I have all my drawings in there. Want to see it?” She starts to get up.

Nate points at her plate. “Finish your dinner, first.”

She shoves a huge bite of broccoli into her mouth.

In the time it takes us to finish our meals, Kara tells me the names of all her chickens, sings the song she learned in her first-grade class today, lists all the places she’d like to visit, and explains how to make a French braid, which she recently learned from her friend, Maddy.

She helps Nate with dishes while I clear the table, and then brings me her purple notebook of drawings—which is also sparkly, by the way. We sit in the living room, and she flips through the pages. She’s actually a really good artist for her age. She promises to draw me a tall skyscraper with a rooftop playground tomorrow.

Eventually, she goes to bed, and then the room is finally quiet. I watch the fireplace from the sofa as Nate sits down in one of the armchairs with a grunt.

“Sorry, she’s kind of a lot,” he shakes his head.

I smile just slightly. “She’s adorable. And really, really smart.”

He scratches his beard and watches the flames too. “Yeah, she’s gonna show me up real fast.”

I laugh quietly and run my finger over the smooth leather sofa arm. “You’re great with her.”

He nods but doesn’t look at me. “So, did your room look ok? Anything you need?”

I shake my head. “No, it’s great. Thank you again.”

He clears his throat and pushes up from his chair. “Good. Well, I’ve got some work to do in my room. Some invoices to file. Fire’s almost out. You can add a log if you want.”

I glance at the glowing coals. “Oh…um…”

He looks at me and raises a brow. “You don’t know how to tend a fire, do you?”

“Um…” No. Not one bit.

He chuckles. “Well, it’s about burnt out already, so you can leave it and head to your room whenever. I’ll be back out to check on it before I go to bed.”

“Alright.” I smile genuinely at him, and it’s an odd feeling. “Thanks for dinner.”

He nods and turns to leave, serious again. “Not a problem. Night.”

“Goodnight,” I reply quietly.