Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
E MILY
“Screw you, Mother Nature,” I hiss. Just three and a half weeks ago I was reveling in the sights and smells of fall weather and now I have to dig out from the sixteen inches of snow that dumped on northeast Ohio last night—even though it’s still technically autumn.
To make matters worse, the wind is so wicked and cold it’s burning my face. And this damn snowblower won’t start. I glare down at the clunky machine and get more pissed off. So, I do the mature thing and kick it with the heel of my boot.
I would love to just say screw it, snuggle under a blanket in front of the gas fireplace with a book and a glass of wine, and leave the snow. But Trina is coming over tonight for dinner as my taste tester for the beer cheese soup I’m making. It’s a recipe I’m trying to perfect for the PTA fundraiser at school. I don’t expect her to trudge through a foot of snow to get to the front door.
I grab a shovel and walk out of the garage, plodding through the snow to the walkway that leads to the front door. Diving in, I begin to carve a small path so Trina can walk it when she arrives. After about five shovelfuls, my triceps are aching from the effort of heaving the loads of heavy snow off to the side. I force myself to continue, but I hate it. Every second. I despise being cold. Like, absolutely loathe it.
Without warning, I’m slammed with overwhelming anger at Teddy.
This was his job, not mine. It was part of our deal. He was terrified of spiders. So, anytime one of the eight-legged insects got in the house, I had to take care of it. And he handled the snow removal because he knew how much I hated it. It was our tit for tat. The memory of us shaking hands to “seal the deal,” as he put it, and of him making me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone about his spider phobia assaults me.
Only now, I have to dispatch all the spiders and freeze my ass off in the snow because of everything that happened. And maybe it’s irrational, but I’m furious at him for it.
I can’t stand how I’m feeling right now, and I don’t want to allow it to continue, so I set down the shovel, close my eyes, and imagine my peaceful place in the ocean. It takes several attempts to refocus my thoughts, but, finally, I can picture myself floating in the crystal-clear water in Hawaii and I work hard on replacing the upsetting memory with details about my special spot.
I don’t know how much time passes, but I’m jolted back to the cold Ohio afternoon when firm hands gently shake my shoulders. I open my eyes to find Charlie standing in front of me, knees bent so his face is level with mine, his eyebrows drawn together in concern.
“Em? What are you doing standing out here in this cold?”
“Huh? Just clearing a path.” I pick up my shovel and start digging at the snow, as if nothing happened. I glance back over my shoulder at him. “What are you doing here?”
He watches me, his wary eyes narrowed, and his head cocked as if he’s not sure what to make of me right now.
“I’m here to do your snow. I was at my mom’s helping with hers and thought I’d come clear yours, too.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“Well, that’s nice of you, but you don’t need to help. I’ve got this.” He says nothing when I return to focusing on my task, my back to him.
After two more shovelfuls, I silently curse myself. Ugh. I should have taken the help.
A minute or two later, the sound of metal hitting metal, like a truck door closing disrupts the quiet. I turn around to wave, assuming Charlie is leaving. Instead, I find him positioning a snowblower in the apron of my driveway.
Charlie tosses up his hand and casually gestures to me to join him where he’s at. Sick of what I’m doing, I walk over to him to see what he wants.
“Sunshine, I skipped arm day during my workouts this week. How about you use this, and I’ll shovel? It’ll be good for my triceps.”
I chuckle at Charlie’s thinly veiled attempt to give me the easier task. Always the gentleman.
“I’ve never used a snowblower before. We have one, but I couldn’t get the stupid thing started. Show me?”
“You got it. Okay, first thing is you have to turn this key.” He points at a plastic key, and I roll my eyes at him. I figured out that much on my own.
He grins at me. “Hey, I didn’t want to assume you knew that.”
Over the next few minutes, Charlie teaches me how to prime the blower with gas, start it, and the basics of making the machine move forward, in reverse, and directing the snow.
Then, I’m off. I begin to clear the driveway while he heads over to attack the path. Since the parking area is wider than it is long, I don’t even have to adjust the chute. I just walk in straight lines, following the arc of the snow with my eyes as it shoots across the cement into tall piles on each side of the drive.
Damn, this is kind of fun.
In less than ten minutes, the driveway is free of snow. The problem is that now I’m not ready to stop. Maybe it’s the novelty of it being my first time doing this, but it’s addictive. I steer in the direction leading to the walkway, planning to help Charlie finish it.
When I’m about ten feet away from him, a flash of scarlet against the backdrop of the white flakes covering my yard catches my eye. I relax my grip, easing off the bars that control the speed of the snowblower and propels it forward, as I turn my head toward the color. I smile when my eyes land on a gorgeous male cardinal feasting at my bird feeder. It’s easy to get lost in watching him as he flits around, sampling the different seeds I’ve stocked for them to feast on.
When a loud voice yells, “Em!” my focus on the bird breaks and I’m startled, both of my hands clamping down on the triggers of the snowblower. And I look toward Charlie just in time to see a thick stream of snow fly at him and smash into his face and chest.
I gasp, pulling my mitten covered hands off the handles and cupping them over my nose and mouth, in shock. He stands perfectly still, not making a move to brush his face off for several seconds as I watch and wait for his reaction. I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen Charlie mad at me, but today might be the day.
Finally, he reaches up and wipes his face, then dusts off the front of his coat with his hands, his eyes never leaving mine.
I reach down and turn off the snowblower so he can hear me.
“Charlie,” I say quietly. “I’m so, so sorry. I swear that was an accident.” I step toward him, decreasing the distance between us to about six feet.
He bends slightly and grabs a handful of snow in his huge hands, then packs it into the shape of a ball.
He wouldn’t. Would he?
I keep my gaze fixed on his hands until he tosses the snowball up into the air, then catches it. And does it again. And again. My eyes fly up to his face to find him watching me with a predatory gaze, a devious smirk on his face.
“Charlie?” I back up a few steps and he matches my movement, preventing me from extending the space between us. “What are you doing? I promise I didn’t do it on purpose. You startled me and I hadn’t turned the chute yet.”
The problem is that my words are telling him one thing, but I can sense the smile trying to break out across my face and it’s totally going to make him think I’m lying.
“Why do you look so nervous, sunshine?”
“Uh, maybe because you’re threatening me with that snowball when I made an innocent mistake.”
“I’m not threatening you. In fact, I was calling for you to tell you I’d finish clearing the path, that you could go in and warm up. You’re the one who assaulted me with a geyser of freezing cold snow.”
“How about I make it up to you? I’ll go make some hot coffee for us.” I give him my sweetest smile. “But only if you put down that snowball first.”
He grins at me before saying, “Deal,” and dropping the snowball into a pile next to the walkway.
“Okay. Good.” I nod at him and retreat toward the front door, walking backward for three large steps to keep my eyes on him while I make my escape.
Charlie laughs and bends down to restart the machine. When it roars to life, I turn my back on him and smile.
That was easy. Guess I can still talk my way out of any ? —
I jump as a hard object hits me right on the ass. When I look down at the porch floor, the splattered remnants of a snowball are on the concrete. I whip my head up to glare at Charlie, only to find him casually moving the snowblower through the snow, his lips pursed like he’s whistling.
And I swear he winks before I turn back to the door and go into the warmth of the house.
* * *
CHARLIE
I know Emily didn’t mean to hit me with that tower of snow, but it was fun teasing her a little and seeing an expression on her face other than sadness. When I finish the walkway, I stand on the porch and stomp my feet, trying to get as much of the snow off me as possible before I go into her house.
After I cross over the threshold, I slip out of my boots, coat, and my hat and gloves. I inhale deeply when the rich aroma of coffee and something else—chocolate, maybe—hits my nose. Having only been here one other time when I mowed her grass, I don’t feel comfortable just walking through her house.
“Em? Is it okay to come in?” I call out. I stand in the foyer and wait until she appears in the living room across from me.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can come in. You never have to stand at the door and wait. Now come on, I’ll pour your coffee. Do you still just take it black?”
“Yep. Just black.” I walk across the living room until I’m almost to her.
“Do you mind starting the gas fireplace and I’ll go grab our drinks?” She gestures with her head toward the hearth, and I nod at her.
I easily light the fire and squat near it, trying to warm up, until she returns with two steaming mugs. I stand and she hands one to me before she sits on the couch, pulling her legs up underneath her.
I sit on the opposite end, and we sip on our coffee, not needing to fill the silence.
After a few minutes, I glance over at her to find her staring at the fire.
“Hey, Em?” She turns to look at me. “What was going on with you when I first got here? You were sort of out of it.”
“Oh, that? I was in the ocean.” She says it so matter-of-factly that I’m worried about her mindset.
“The ocean? Is that a metaphor for something?” I angle my body toward her and set my coffee mug down on the table so I can give her my full attention.
A sweet-sounding chuckle escapes her. “No. Not a metaphor. Trauma therapy.”
I say nothing, waiting to see if she’ll elaborate.
“It’s a technique my therapist taught me. When I’m triggered by a traumatic memory or emotion, I visualize myself in the ocean in Hawaii, floating with the cool water against my skin. The sun shines down on me, and the only sounds around me are tinkling noises because my ears are under water. I’ve never forgotten how it felt since Trina took me there for my college graduation—calm, relaxed, protected. So, it’s my trauma place.”
“Something outside triggered you?” My voice is soft, not wanting to stress her. But I desperately want to know how she’s feeling, what she’s going through.
She looks down at her hands and shrugs.
“Yeah, I guess. It was a combination of things. First, I couldn’t get the snowblower to start, not that I even knew how to use it, anyway. Then I felt helpless, which pissed me off. But managing the snow was always one of Teddy’s jobs because I’ve always hated being cold. I did other things that he hated doing. So, I guess it started with the stupid snowblower not turning on for me, but it turned into me feeling so furious about what he had done with… with her. And what that did to our lives. It just spiraled from there, so I had to get out of the cycle. The only thing I could think to do was try the visualization of being in the ocean.”
“Did it work?”
She smiles, a tiny one, but a smile, nonetheless. “Yeah, I think it did.”
“Good. I’m glad.” I take the last swig of my coffee and then stand. “Now, if you’re done with your coffee, grab a jacket and lead me to your garage.”
“Huh?” Emily’s crinkled eyes and tilted head tell me she’s confused. She stands, though, and walks to her foyer to grab a fleece out of the closet. I follow her, and we both slip on our shoes.
Forty-five minutes later, I’ve taught her everything I can think of about owning a snowblower, including putting fuel stabilizer in at the end of the season, checking spark plugs, using starting fluid, and the electric start versus the pull start. After she’s done all the troubleshooting on hers, under my watchful eye, she insists on trying to start it using the pull start.
She’s biting her lower lip and concentrating as she gives the pull cord a yank. After two pulls, and only a slight rumble from the engine, she narrows her eyes and purses her lips, determination written all over her face. I shove my hands in my pockets to keep myself from helping unless she asks for it.
Finally, on the third pull, the snowblower roars to life and Emily’s eyes widen. A huge, gorgeous smile spreads across her face.
“I fucking did it!” she shouts over the loud engine. She throws her hand up for a high-five.
There she is.
I high-five her, proud as shit and happy I got to help her get there. She turns the machine off and restarts it two more times, just because she can. A minute or two later, we head back inside.
“Will you stay for dinner? Trina’s coming over and we’re having homemade beer cheese soup in bread bowls.”
That sounds amazing, much better than the microwave mac n’ cheese I was planning on, but I don’t want to intrude.
“Nah. I don’t want to cut into your sister time.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re staying, I insist. Now come with me and I’ll have you cut the centers out of the bread while I finish the soup. “
I chuckle. It’s very difficult to say no to Emily. At least for me it is—hell, always has been.
She leads me to the kitchen, and we wash our hands then she shows me how she wants the bread bowls cut before she strolls back over to the stove and works her magic with the soup. It smells delicious.
“Hey, Charlie?” I pause my cutting and look over at where she stands at the stove. She’s stirring the soup, staring into the bowl.
“Yeah? What’s up?”
“Thanks for today. For thinking of me and coming over to help me with the snow. But especially for teaching me how to get the snowblower running so I can do it myself. I really appreciate that. You always seem to know what I need.”
Shit .
She doesn’t realize I’d do just about anything for her, no questions asked.
If it were up to me, she’d never have to do any of the crappy, tedious things in life. I’d be happy to do them all for her. But I’ll be damned if I’ll let something make her feel helpless if it’s in my power to teach her.
“Anytime, Em. Anytime.”