Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Summer
I tapped through the weather app. I’d looked at it a million times, as if the trajectory of the storm the weather center had forecasted would change despite days of warnings. Phrases like unprecedented levels and stock up with provisions were getting thrown around.
I sat cross-legged on the living room couch at Mama’s house in thick flannel sweats and a heavy Copper Summit sweater.
Teller had run me out of the distillery and told me to help Mama get ready for the storm.
Mama could be stuck in the house for months and still be able to feed the entire family. She wasn’t the one I worried about.
Jonah was old enough to know what had to be done. He’d been living in his cabin for almost twenty years, and he’d endured terrible thunderstorms and snowstorms and wind events. I’d thought about him out there all alone through the years.
I clicked out of the app. If the tracker was correct, we had a couple hours before the first flurries started.
Hell with it. I got up and grabbed my coat hanging by the back door. I shrugged into it as I stuffed my feet inside my Ugg Adirondack boots. The bottoms of my sweats piled up around the fluffy wool liner at the tops. I should change, but now that I’d decided, I was committed.
Mama shuffled into the kitchen. “Going somewhere?”
She was in mother-hen mode. She was calling Tenor, telling him to give Cruz plenty of time to grab what he wanted from town. Lane was almost back from running errands in Bozeman. She wanted all her duckies under her roof when the first flake dropped.
“I’m going to bring Jonah some supplies.” I took his winter coat and ski pants off the hooks by the back door. “I need to return his clothing too.”
She paused and pulled her maroon cardigan around her. Since Daddy had died, she could look startlingly older, but moments like now, I was transported back to high school when she was tasting my words for a lie. “You think he doesn’t have enough?”
“I’m not sure if he’s made it to town since I was there and I ate some of his supplies.”
There was that steady gaze again, her expression laying down valid points like what I’d just been thinking.
He’d been surviving in that cabin—and expanding—for almost two decades.
She was silently tallying how much of Jonah’s winter stores I could’ve possibly eaten in three days.
She might think four, but I hadn’t eaten that first evening after he’d rescued me.
The question of Why are you really going there? lingered in her eyes.
She brushed the salt-and-pepper curls out of her face. “Better get going, then. You have your kit in your car?”
“Always.” She and Daddy hadn’t raised any of us to travel without survival gear. I could make a fire, shoot a flare, and feed myself if I got stranded. I could shovel a trench, bed myself down, or write HELP in the snow or grass—with flames or a bottle of dye, whatever the situation called for.
“You got a change of clothes?”
“I’ll be back by then.” I opened the back door.
“Summer, these storms don’t watch our apps. They do what they damn well please. Pack a bag.”
“I don’t have time, Mama.” I left the door and rushed across the kitchen to give her a kiss on her soft, warm cheek. “I’ll be fast. He’s got plenty of canned goods, but if he wants to stay scurvy-free, he needs some orange juice.”
She gave me a flat look. “Get some oranges, then,” she said dryly.
I was using Daddy’s argument as an excuse.
His dad had had scurvy as a kid in the middle of Montana, and Daddy and his brothers had gone around talking like a pirate when they’d heard the story as kids.
For International Talk Like a Pirate Day, they’d made a cake in the shape of a parrot.
And we’d grown up with orange juice and fresh produce always stocked in the house because of it.
I rushed out to my car. The chill in the air bit deeper, but the wind was nonexistent. When the snow started, it’d free-fall like the day of my wedding.
I drove to town, pushing the speed as much as my conscience would allow.
I’d be no good to Jonah if I skidded off the highway.
In the grocery store, I picked through the remnants.
Much of town had already been through, buying food and toiletries like we were in Florida and there’d been a Jim Cantore sighting.
I picked out oranges, the validity of my excuse taking hold. Jonah didn’t eat the variety he should, and he’d be stuck for days, maybe even a week without a way to replenish.
I needed to do this. For his own good.
After checking out, I was in my car and taking a different road out of town, a small county road that turned to gravel and skirted around the back edge of my family’s land.
Jonah had driven this route with me after my non-wedding, and I’d been assaulted by memories of taking the same route with his brother, going to pester Jonah because Eli had hero-worshipped him.
He hadn’t been the only one.
Now, it was just me. I passed the area of the accident. I’d seen pictures of the wreckage. I wasn’t supposed to have, but small town and confidentiality didn’t always go hand in hand.
Eli’s old pickup had tipped into the shallow ditch. Any farther and he might’ve rammed a tree, not that it mattered. The outcome had been the same. He hadn’t buckled up, and he hadn’t survived the impact with the steering wheel.
Jonah’s pickup had been T-boned on the driver’s side by Eli. His vehicle had slammed into the ditch, rolling at least once and landing on its side—keeping Jonah from getting out. The frame had held up, but the driver’s door had crumpled into Jonah’s side.
The sight had pierced my heart. People blamed Eli. The alcohol. Some even got after Jonah for having alcohol in his house, the stash his brother had raided. But I’d been the motivator. Eli wouldn’t have felt the need to drink if it hadn’t been for me.
Going to Jonah’s was a bad idea.
I almost stopped and turned around. I still had time to get home. The heavy gray clouds were starting to let loose their cargo. A few flurries landed on my windshield.
I wasn’t in an area where I could turn around.
A snowflake landed in my line of vision, stark against the glass.
I could make out its points if I dared take my eyes off the road for more than a second.
More flakes fell. I could drop off the food and turn and burn.
If I got stranded, I’d have to explain myself to my brothers, and to my sisters, which would be worse.
I pulled into the long driveway and wound around the trees. To anyone else, it’d look like he wasn’t home. I knew his pickup was in the garage, and he’d probably been in the shop so long the snow that was falling remained untouched. I parked behind the second stall that was full of lawn equipment.
Instead of going to the house, I went to the shop. If he wasn’t in there, I’d take his absence personally. It’d mean he’d been avoiding me when he’d spent so much time out there while I had been under his roof.
Cold snow dotted my hair and ears, falling into my eyelashes. I hefted the two grocery bags I’d gotten him when I reached the shop door and knocked.
I waited.
Nothing.
I knocked again.
I waited.
Nothing.
He had been avoiding me. Hurt heated my face and melted the snow faster than usual.
I trudged across the driveway to his house. Should I just leave the groceries and his winter clothing and text him? I hadn’t gotten his number when I’d used his phone, but my family would have it. No, I didn’t want the inquiries that would come if I asked them for it.
Embarrassed and second-guessing myself, I climbed the porch that encompassed the width of his cabin and knocked on his front door.
I waited.
Nothing.
Was he hiding?
I knocked again. And again I got no answer. Great. Now for the entire storm, I’d sit at Mama’s house and bathe in self-recrimination.
I was about to turn when another thought occurred to me. What if he was hurt? What if he couldn’t answer?
My heart rate sped up and the idea blossomed into dread. Was Jonah okay? I couldn’t leave until I knew. I tried the handle, and surprisingly, it turned. He’d locked all the doors when I’d been here, but he was leaving them open when he was alone. He was a thoughtful man.
Warmth sparked in my chest, but the anxiety grew. Was something wrong?
I stepped into the living room and listened.
He wasn’t watching TV and the kitchen light was off.
Both rooms were open in front of me and I could see down the hallway to the bathroom and his bedroom.
The hallway was dim as well, along with the upstairs, but a sliver of light filtered through from under the bathroom door. I heard water running.
Relief poured through me, crisper and more refreshing than the outside air. He was taking a shower.
I could leave the groceries, hang his gear up by the back door, find something to write a note on, and get going. He had no idea he had company, and now that I could be mostly sure he was okay, I could go with a clear conscience.
Stuffing my disappointment away, I toed out of my boots. I’d miss him but he’d have the groceries and wasn’t that the point of my trip? I needed to get home. The snow was falling heavier, forming a curtain outside the big picture windows.
I padded to the kitchen and placed the bags on the table. I looked around for paper, but couldn’t find anything. The water shut off. Maybe I should call to him from the hallway?
Then I’d scare the shit out of him and he could slip and fall. No, it’d be better if I was gone completely. I scurried to the front door and was stuffing my foot into a boot when the bathroom door opened and Jonah emerged.