Chapter Four
“Get back.” Elliot pushed me behind the counter as another crack of thunder rumbled the ground. He ran to the door, but it wouldn’t budge. “No, no, no!” He shook it violently, but the door only cracked open an inch, and that was being generous.
Howling wind circulated and screamed through the tiny opening, keeping the hairs on the back of my neck fully erect. It was creepy and ominous and borderline frightening.
Elliot clicked the door back into place, twisting the lock to help seal it shut.
The rains pelted the window with enough intensity, that I worried they would break the glass. It had happened once at Pages it all combined with the wind sheers down the slope of the mountain and added to a storm build up. Typically, the weather people knew this and could warn the small mountain towns ahead of disaster.
Elliot’s voice was low and throaty. “There’ve been warnings all day. Thought you knew and that’s why you wore your leather jacket.”
“No, I wore this because last night at book club we were discussing our favourite heroines and I mentioned mine was from a modern-day retelling of the fairytales, Emma—”
“Swan. From Once Upon a Time? ” He hadn’t even taken a breath .
I inhaled sharply. “You know that show?”
“Know it? Yeah. I love it but don’t tell anyone. I get made fun of enough for being slightly strange and unusual, so there’s no sense in adding a girly show to the mix.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” I mocked zipping my lips and throwing away the key.
That had to be a first. When Cassie and I would watch, Chad had to leave. He couldn’t stand that show and said it wasn’t just him. In his defence, most men would never be caught dead watching the frou-frou silly girl show either. So, we ended up bingeing as many episodes as we could when he was on the night shift rotation.
Guess Elliot wasn’t just most men . Give the guy another checkmark. And another thumbs up in my book.
Elliot carried on. “Got to meet Lana Parilla, Rebecca Mader, and Sean Maguire at the Edmonton Expo once. I was going to go and meet Rose McIvor last year, but I needed to head out of town on an emergency.”
“Oh my gosh, you met The Evil Queen Regina and Robin Hood?!” I could do without meeting the actress who played Zelena. She was probably a sweetheart in real life. I knew from her Instagram that she and Lana were good buddies, but her character was just plain awful, and I never did feel she redeemed herself. After she tricked Robin and got pregnant, Regina wasn’t the only one crushed. I was, too.
“I sure did. Even got my picture taken with them.”
“Were they in costume? Oh, please tell me they were in costume.” My voice pitched in excitement. Them in costume, me dressed in my red leather jacket like a poor imitation of Emma Swan. Oh, the fun I could’ve had.
He put his hands on my shoulders. “Sorry to disappoint you, but no. They were in regular clothing like you and me.”
“Oh, dang. I would’ve paid a fortune to have my picture taken with them. They’d be framed and hanging in my living room. I don’t care what my sister would say.”
“I think the picture was a half-fortune, and combined with Sean’s, almost a full fortune.” He winked and then closed his eyes, showing off those beautiful long lashes in the process.
“You are the luckiest guy I know.” I patted his arm, and a surprisingly peppy surge of electricity zapped through my fingers.
His eyes popped open.
Had he felt it too?
“Really? Wow. Thanks.”
“That show was the best. Such great memories of it.”
“Oh yeah?”
“My sister and I used to watch it with our mom on Sunday nights. It was our show. We’d make popcorn and watch as Snow White and Prince Charming always found each other.” I tipped my head back and looked toward the heavens, or in this case the roof of the Coffee Loft. Maybe someday my Prince will show. I lowered my head, blinking away the weird thoughts of Elliot being a prince in disguise. “Maybe that’s where my enjoyment of romance started.”
He snorted, but softly and in a charming way. “And do you all still get together?”
I shook my head. “No. My mom passed away a few years back, not long after the failed reboot of season seven.”
“Sorry to hear that.” His normal smile flipped upside down.
“About my mom or the failed reboot?” Yeah, it was a weak attempt at humour, but after freaking out during the storm, and then discussing the heavy topic of maternal death, I needed something to laugh about and Elliot was amazingly easy to talk to and laugh with.
“Well, the reboot was terrible, but losing your mother is awful.” He grabbed my hand and gently stroked his thumb over my knuckles. “I can’t even imagine what that must’ve been like.”
“It was worse than terrible.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that. How did she die?”
My mouth opened and shut.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to answer. It’s personal. ”
“Heartbreak,” I said without thinking. “She died of heartbreak. My dad cheated on her with a co-worker, and their marriage, and her self-esteem never recovered.”
When Mom, Cassie, and I found out who he’d cheated with, we couldn’t believe it. The mistress was a step above trash, and she wasn’t a nice person. We couldn’t understand what he saw in her to ruin his marriage and make his whole family distrust his every action. When he said he was heading to the ski hill, was he really? After he and Mom split, Cassie and I tried to be impartial and not pick sides, but it was impossible. He’d hurt Mom so badly, and since we had to witness her self-destruction, we stopped seeing him; we couldn’t let go of her pain.
“Dang. That’s rough. I’m really sorry.”
“Thank you, I appreciate that.” I stood there, shifting back and forth on my heels.
The air was comfortable, and for the first time, discussing this pain in my life didn’t cause me to hyperventilate. The opposite happened. It was calming, and that scared me slightly.
It wasn’t getting any lighter inside the Coffee Loft, and it was time we called for help. “Your cell ... Where is it, again?”
“It's in the back room.”
“Through the storage area, right?” He nodded with hesitation. “Great, so let's go.” Grabbing his hand was as easy as breathing. Besides, after he held me close while the storm passed, I was beyond being shy and meek. Much.
He followed me to the edge of the coffee prep area but dug his heels in going further. “I can't.”
“Why not?” I glanced around.
“Because.” His voice was suddenly strained, and as if he’d ingested too much caffeine, there was a chop to his words. “Because there's a code to enter the room. With the power being off to the building, and the whole town really, the keypad may not work.” He was breathing in shallow breaths and he avoided eye contact. “Yeah, that's why.”
“Hmm...” I let go of his hand so I could cross my arms over my chest while assessing his body language. Long gone was his confidence. Apprehension, and maybe a touch of fear, took its place. “Wouldn’t it just be always unlocked?”
“Or it’s perpetually locked to protect against thievery?” He shrugged and rocked back and forth on his feet.
Nina and Harvey must’ve graduated from the same business school – both were obsessed with thefts, although it happened more often than Harvey knew.
“Well, if it's true, we have nothing to lose by trying, right?”
“I suppose.”
The dots connected between the words he wasn’t vocalizing. Actions were often stronger than words. Elliot was afraid of the dark. Not quite at my storm level, but not far off. Not that I could blame him, really. Even when it was dark in the basement of my house, there was still enough ambient lighting to help me quickly adapt.
But not in the Coffee Loft. It was darker than it was quiet as the winds were still whipping around outside, and the further away from the window we stepped, the darker it became. And also the eerier the silent void became.
I reached out and grabbed his hand again, leaning closer to him. “Let’s get your phone. Together.”
It was a total you helped me so I’ll help you moment, and I didn’t care. Together we survived that storm, and together we’d get into the back and find his phone.
Resigned with fallen shoulders, Elliot stood near the door with the Storage Room sign glued onto it.
It was a good thing I’d been a frequent customer and had already taken the place in before today. At least I knew where I was going and could take charge. For the moment. If another storm hit, we were in big trouble.
My eyes were growing used to the darkness, and I was beginning to make out more defined edges in the shadows, but still, it was like looking through sunglasses in a dark room. With nightfall outside and zero lights due to the power failure, there wasn't a nighttime glow to help navigate. That was a reason Jasper was a dark sky preserve—they had very little light pollution as it was when there was power .
While still holding his hand, I tapped around the edge of the storage room door until I touched the plastic keypad cover. “Found it. What’s the code?”
“2. 4. 0. 3. 2. 1.” Each number was punctuated with a short breath.
What lay beyond the door that worried him? Was it something I should worry about as well? Swallowing down the rampant thoughts that circulated inside my head, I inhaled slowly and repeated the numbers over.
I flipped the cover up and hovered my finger over the buttons. There was no working indicator light on, and when I pressed my ear to the keypad, there was no hum either. Nothing to suggest it was working.
Best case scenario? It was battery-operated and we could get in, locate Elliot’s bag and phone, and call for help. Worst case? Pretty much the same as doing nothing at all.
A thought—a proper thought this time—entered my brain. Not all keypads were ordered in the same way. “Wait, is the one in the top left corner or bottom left?”
“I don’t know.” His grip tightened. “I never thought about it.”
“It’s one of those things we take for granted.” That elicited a small chuckle. Good. “Take a deep breath and try to picture it. Please.” With my phone, the number one was top left, but with the keypad at work, the number one was on the bottom left .
Elliot gently pushed me to the side and pressed the buttons. “Let me try. Let’s see if muscle memory is a real thing.”
I hoped it was.
Six buttons later, the noisy locking mechanisms twisted back and when Elliot turned the handle, the door opened.
“We’re in.”
“You did it. Fantastic!” I’d air punch the space, but somehow, I didn’t feel super victorious just yet. Instead, I bumped shoulders with him.
Elliot briefly relaxed his hand but only to thread his fingers through mine.
“We’ve got this.”
I stepped into the room, which was darker than dark if that were possible. Even with my hand in front of my face, I couldn’t make it out. I took a few steps into the cavernous area, sliding my feet against the floor with each step.
“Okay, where do I need to go?”
“Straight.”
“Which way is straight?” I stepped back until I touched the door.
It was truly going to be the blind leading the blind, and my heart was racing. I hated not being able to see, and who knew what lurked in the shadows? Could be monsters? Or giant bugs? I shuddered at either thought, although I’d prefer monsters. It was almost like Elliot’s own manifestations were rolling off him, and I was inhaling him. I needed to stop and focus on the task at hand.
“You okay?” Elliot was hugging my right side; his warm breath was laboured as if he’d run up a flight of stairs.
“Hunky dory, you?”
“I just want to get out of here.” He shivered and let go of my hand.
“I can’t disagree with that.” When I heard nothing from him, I asked, “Elliot?”
His hand touched my shoulder. “Right here.”
A whoosh of air expelled. “Don’t let go.”
“I won’t.”
What I needed was a plan to get us into the depths and back out. And maybe find a bathroom somewhere along the way because I really needed to go. My bladder was painfully full. With one solid sneeze, I’d rival Hoover Dam bursting.
I took a few more sliding steps away. “Describe the space we’re in. I need to visualize where we’re going.”
His voice was slightly above a whisper. “Okay. This room is full of boxes on racks. There are some sleeves of disposable cups and lids, that kind of thing.”
“I’m not going to run into a cooler or anything?” Because it sounded eerily quiet like we were in a giant void or something. In the main part of the Coffee Loft, you didn’t miss the whipping winds.
“No, no, no. That’s in the opposite corner. When I come into the storage room, I turn right to the cooler. We turned left.”
I nodded. Not that he could see. “So left we’ll go, however, I’m all turned around.” I tried to keep my sigh contained, but it slipped out. “Let me grab the door again and start fresh.”
“I’m sorry.” A cool whisp of air replaced the heat from his hand when he broke our bond.
I didn’t know I needed that connection until it was gone. Dang. Always thought those heroines were lying. Turned out, there was a reason they all needed that touch.
I shook my head. “Oh no, it’s not your fault. I swear. I’m just never going to take my vision for granted again.”
I waved my hand through the air, sliding in the direction I thought I came from. Until I connected with the door. It moved and smashed against Elliot.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, it’s only my face.” It came out as a weak chuckle. His palms scratched against his whiskery cheeks.
“What was your face doing sticking out so much?” I tried to picture someone walking, leading with their face and not their chest.
“Does it matter right now?” Was that annoyance in his voice?
I took a different approach. “Are you bleeding?”
His hand tapped against his face. “I don’t feel anything wet.”
“That’s good. Hopefully, you don’t bruise like a peach, either. You’re okay to keep going?”
“Life’s a journey, right?”
“I suppose.”
“So let’s keep going.”
“Together.” I sighed with relief and while holding the door with my right hand, slid my foot to the left, connecting with a box. “I hit something.”
“That’s the storage shelves.” His voice perked. “We should be able to follow that around, and when it turns to the right …”
“The right?”
“The left. I meant the left. When it turns to the left, that’s the staff area. Metal lockers.”
Listening for Elliot’s steps, I tapped along, moving slowly to the left, feeling cardboard boxes beneath my fingertips, then a plastic bag with what felt like cups inside. I touched something cold and metal, like a pole, and assumed it was wire shelving. I reached out to the side again, and the side of my hand hit another cardboard box.
Turning my head, I tried to imagine where the door was, and I felt nothing. For a moment, my heart stopped, but I swallowed, knowing we had to do this. If I was moved by fear again, then most definitely so was Elliot. “You still here?”
“Yeah.” His inhales and exhales were sharp.
“The shelves wrap around the wall?”
“Briefly. We’re almost there. ”
Hearing his voice, even if it was peppered in paralyzing panic, somehow soothed me, but I needed him to be okay too.
“Betcha you had better plans tonight than to be trapped inside the coffee shop, eh?” I wasn’t going to be showing up at the high school gym. No big loss on my part and Alice and Cassie would have nothing to say about it either, since this was far beyond my control.
“I was supposed to be at a volunteer meeting.”
“Oh, yeah? For the festival?”
Shuffling to the side, I took a couple of steps and my hand touched nothing but stale air. Gripping the cold metal pole, I inched forward, bracing myself to touch something hard, like a cardboard box or a metal locker. A ribbon of terror wove through my thoughts as I worried what I’d do if I hit anything soft, like a human that wasn’t Elliot, or felt something creepy cross over the open part of my flats.
“Yup. I’ve helped out for the past couple of years. I love it.”
“Bit of a geek, are you?” I laughed. Most of the guys I’d been interested in would never be considered geeks. Wait? What? Why was I thinking that?
Finally, my hand connected with a flat metal surface. Whew. “The lockers. Found them.”
Elliot’s hand touched my left arm and a shock of tingles swarmed my belly. “Okay, I’m going to go around you, and head toward mine.” His hands cupped my waist—and my heart did a swift uptake in speed—as he moved behind me, ending up on my right. His voice was breathy—and warm—as his whispered words brushed over my ears. “Gosh dang it. It’s so dark.”
The clank of metal locks against the metal lockers filled the space with a loud, alarming noise. With each clatter, I cowered for a heartbeat.
“Trying to find my locker. I’m near the corner.” More clanking and banging. “Think this is mine.” But under his breath, he said, “I hope.”
I shuffled toward his voice, still sliding along. “Keep talking.”
“Seriously? That feels dumb.”
“Just tell me what you’re doing.” Using a weak form of echolocation, I could zero in on exactly how close or far away he was. I was keeping him close for his own sanity, and likely for my own, if I was being honest with myself.
A long, lingering breath snuck out of him; he was on my left somewhere. “Okay, okay. I’m holding the lock, in my left hand.”
“Good.”
“And with my right hand, I’m feeling where the little arrow is.” The dial twisted. It was amazing, all the sounds I’d never paid attention to before were suddenly crystal clear now. “Turning it clockwise. Once. Twice. Gee, I hope this is twenty, it’s so hard to tell. ”
I nodded, not that he could see it.
“Twisting it counterclockwise. Is this enough description, or do you want more?” His tone was laced in easy, yet good-natured, sarcasm.
“That’s good. Perfect, in fact. I like a play-by-play.”
A low, yet audible grumble rolled out of him as metal clanked against metal. “Dang it. It didn’t work.”
“It’s okay. Try again.”
Thinking he was close enough to reassuringly pat his shoulder, I reached out, but I didn’t connect with anything. Sadly, he was just out of reach but having a modicum of confidence, I stopped touching the locker and took a bravely blind step toward his voice.
As I stepped down, my foot landed on something soft and squishy, and fearing what I had just touched, I double-stepped and lurched forward. Losing my balance in the process, I landed on a small cardboard box, which crushed beneath my foot. Instinctively, I tossed my hands out in front of me while I struggled to keep upright. Once, twice, my feet hit the floor at an awkward angle. Like a crash I couldn’t avoid, I completely stumbled and slammed my forehead into a metal locker as I fell.
Whimpering and groaning, but still, amazingly enough, standing, I twisted and leaned my back against the locker embarrassed and red-faced which gratefully Elliot couldn’t see. Tenderly, I touched the throbbing area of my forehead .
“What the beans happened?” There was so much concern in his voice, it was charming.
“I tripped.”
“Over what?”
“I don’t know. A sweatshirt. A dead mouse.” My voice pitched unbelievably high and fast. “Then I landed on a box. Maybe? I can’t tell because it’s pitch black.” I didn’t mean for it to be laced with anger, but there it was. Unexpectedly, my agitation with the situation reared its head.
“A sweatshirt? A box? Who’s leaving their crap in the staff room on the floor.” Another low and frustrated growl.
A whoosh and a solid thunk filled the air. A box had been painfully kicked directly into my ankle.
I howled in surprise.
Elliot was right by my side, his hands wildly feeling around my body until he grabbed my shoulders and the tops of my arms. “Oh beans, oh beans. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have kicked that box without knowing where you were. I am so so sorry.”
The sincerity was so real that I believed him. “It’s okay.” I slouched down and rubbed my ankle through my still-damp-from-the-rain skinny jeans. “I’ll live.”
A frustrated growl roared out. “I’m just angry. I don’t want to be trapped.”
“Agreed,” I said with a snort. “So go back to your locker and let’s get out of here.”
I continued to moan in pain while listening to him shuffle back across the space. If it was ten feet or five, I couldn’t tell the difference.
He tapped along, moving the locks around until they stopped. “Think this is mine. Let me try it again. You still standing in the same spot?”
“Haven’t moved.” Aside from resting my back against the lockers and lifting my now-sore ankle to rotate it and listen to the bones grinding against each other.
“Is that you?”
“What?” I asked.
“With that weird sound?”
“This?” I twisted my ankle again.
“Yeah.”
“I have bony ankles and things like to pop and click within my foot.”
“Because of the box?”
“No, because it’s just how I’m built.” I sighed, just wanting to get out of this space. “Keep focused on the task at hand.”
“Okay, it’s just very distracting. The clicks from your ankle sound like they could be clicks within the lock itself.”
“Oh. Sorry. Never thought that.” I set my foot down and crossed my arms over my chest. My head was starting to ache.
“I’m twisting the dial again. Clockwise. Counterclockwise. Clockwise and pull.”
I heard the catch in his breath and the rush out when the lock didn’t open .
“Dang it.”
“It’s okay. Try again. You’ve got this.”
Once. Twice. Three more times. On the third time, something hit against the metal. The lock perhaps?
The panic was next level in my voice, and I moved closer. “What are you doing?”
“It’s not working.” His breath was punctuating the air.
“Just breathe. Maybe you have the wrong locker. Let’s try them all, okay?” I reached out and found his arm, giving it a slight squeeze. It was tight and tense. “Just breathe. We’ve got this.” Sliding my hand down the locker, I touched the cool metal lock. “What’s the combination?”
“20-35-57.”
I nodded and tried to visualize the movements. “You do the next one, I’ll do this.” I slid my left foot in the direction of his voice until it touched his. “Don’t move your foot. That’s me.”
Together, we blindly tried the combination on three different lockers, cursing at the darkness and the total inability to see what we were doing. From my left came the distinct clicking sound of success.
“Yes! My locker.” The pitch and volume of his voice increased. “Finally.” The metal door squeaked as he opened it. Fabric rubbed against metal as he grabbed his bag. I heard a shuffling sound as he rifled through but didn’t miss the sharp drop when he spoke. “Where’s my phone?”