Chapter Fourteen
Oh my gosh, this avalanche really did a number on Mount Winter Bliss. It takes us a full hour to navigate a path to town. I white knuckle it through a long section of crushed trees, clinging to one of my two seatmates, a tiny blonde sweetheart of a woman.
Poor Holly. While I was blissed out, getting spoiled rotten by the sweetest, kindest, sexiest demon in the world, my neighbor in a nearby cabin wasn”t doing so hot.
“There, there.” I try to offer comfort as another sob racks her body.
“Why would he do that?” she whispers, more to herself than me.
“Men are idiots sometimes,” I rub her shoulder, knowing nothing about her situation, but facts are facts. It seems to help as she nods and really starts to let loose, telling me all about this giant demon she accidentally got snowed in with. When I ask his name, I realize it’s Az. I only know him casually and while he is very gruff, I always took him for a good guy. Turns out, it was actually Holly that Rom ran into in the woods yesterday. Hearing how he talked up my fundraiser and made a good impression on her leaves me with a bittersweet ache in my heart.
But rather than the chipper woman Rom mentioned meeting, today Holly is a weepy, doe-eyed mess in clothes at least five sizes too large and rather threadbare. I offer to let her borrow some of mine when we get into town and instantly feel better when she accepts.
It’s not that I thrive on others’ misfortunes, but when I want to keep my mind off my own, it’s a real good distraction.
“Hmmph.” My other neighbor in the back seat, a tall, elegant demon, makes a huffy sound as he tries to scoot away from me.
“Sorry,” I apologize for the third time in ten minutes. It’s the polite thing to say even though I can’t really help that the space is small. I’m a bigger girl, and the terrain is rough. I shrug my shoulders. “Bumpy, you know?”
Talk about movie star good looks. I don’t say anything, but I recognize him as the standoffish demon I bumped into on the sidewalk the first day Rom came into town. His snobbery and fashion sense had me assuming he was a guest at the pricey Emberlight Resort on Mount BZB, so realizing he’s been trapped on the rustic and dangerous Mount Winter Bliss is a surprise.
After Holly and I introduce ourselves, he doesn’t offer his name. He wiggles over and slumps against the window. I just know something is eating at him and try to give him a little grace.
I’m sure they’ve both been through a lot. And while I’d have thought two tourists would be elated to be saved from this mountain, their miserable demeanors say otherwise. An avalanche followed by a rescue mission in a borrowed, overcrowded snowcat isn’t really going to help our vacation-destination image. And well-to-do visitors looking for a cozy winter retreat are what keep this town on the map. It kind of feels like my duty to give them a warm welcome to Winter Bliss.
Holly shudders through another quiet sob.
“Oh no, it’ll all be okay.” I hug her shoulders and flash the demon a friendly smile, just to let him know I’m here for him when he’s ready to talk.
To distract Holly, I jabber away about my fundraiser, which, as expected, works like a charm. She brightens up and immediately hands over a fat stack of cash as a donation, no questions asked. There’s got to be at least $1,000 here! Why she’s dressed in ratty old clothes yet has multiple stacks of crisp bills is a bit of a mystery. I have a feeling she’ll regret throwing money at me once she’s thinking straight, but I’ll hold onto it for safekeeping. Right now, she needs a friend, and I could use one too.
Holly hands the well-to-do demon my flier, and I brace myself for the worst. It’s wrinkled and has a hand-written summary of the raffle idea. I’m not sure how a demon, especially a rich one, will like it.
“How much are tickets?” he asks, reading it carefully.
Oh, this is good.
“It’s by donation, so whatever you feel like giving. Choose your price.”
“That’s a truly terrible idea. You’re basically starting negotiations at zero; you realize that, don’t you?” His stare goes straight through me.
“What?” I ask. Ugh. This sounds familiar. “No, I’m not.”
“You are. You’re saying I can pay as little as I want, throw a few cents at you, and I’d be entered to win. You’re supposed to start high and give me room for a counteroffer. That’s how bargaining works, and you want to strike a good bargain, don’t you?”
I blink several times, a little anger building inside me. “That”s not really the point.”
It’s not that I’m dumb, I’ve just never been out to price gouge people. Rom made the same point, but in a much nicer tone of voice. I sigh, already missing him so much.
“The correct answer is ‘yes.’ Everyone wants to strike the best bargain possible.”
My face flashes hot with annoyance, but before I can snap at him, he lifts his chin and surprises me.
“Now,” he says, “tell me you’ll sell me a hundred raffle tickets for a thousand dollars.”
“But that’s so much,” I sputter.
“Say it.” His eyes flare brighter. A demon making a deal, I know the look.
Holly shoves me in the side and nods encouragingly.
“I’ll sell you a hundred tickets for a thousand dollars,” I say.
“Five hundred,” he says.
Is he serious? This guy has a stone-cold poker face. He should really gamble. Always one to expect the best of people, I smile and lay my hand out, palm up. “Okay!”
“I don’t have it on me.” He clears his throat, looking a little uncomfortable. “Lost my wallet, but I’m good for it.” He heaves a weary sigh before turning back to look out the window.
I think . . . I think he might be serious. Demons don’t go around lying about money. I tap the paper in his hand and hope for the best. “The pay app info is on the flier.”
He nods solemnly, and Holly and I exchange a wordless, surprised glance.
As we roll past the “Welcome to Winter Bliss” sign, I’m feeling a little more optimistic. There really are generous people out there! I’ll sell a bunch of raffle tickets, save the library, and Rom will be down the mountain in no time flat.
Chad and the other park ranger drop us off at the fire station. After a gentle, “No, thank you,” to his umpteenth attempt to ask me out on a date and rekindle our ill-fated teenage romance, it’s just me, Holly, and the pretty boy demon. He needs a ride back to the resort, and she has nowhere to go. Obviously, that means I’m taking her home with me.
We’re three pitiful peas in a pod, so I put on my bravest face and take charge.
Everything happens in a blur. I borrow my uncle’s car, and Holly and I dedicate the afternoon to helping our new demon friend sort out a few things. His name is Samite, by the way. We finally got him to crack and open up a little. And boy was I right about there being something eating at him. He’s spent the last few days snowed in with Sofia, a local chef with an exacting taste in books. I”ve got a novel stashed away behind the circulation desk waiting for her right now as a matter of fact. When Samite realizes I know her, he agrees to stay for dinner at my place. Beneath his prickly demeanor, he’s just another lost soul who doesn’t want to be alone right now. I get it.
By the time I grab my groceries from the library’s downstairs fridge and make my way back up to my apartment, my head is spinning. I’m back to my frantic pace of life. This is my norm. I’ve operated at a near-constant, dog-whistle frequency of flurried activity since I can remember.
But today I feel off-kilter. After four days being waited on hand and foot by Rom, learning how to really relax, I can actually feel the tightness in my chest and the fuzzy headache simmering behind my eyes.
I’m dehydrated and hungry and all but collapse when I step into my kitchenette and check the time above the stove. 5:50pm. A powerful sigh gusts out. Thank goodness I didn’t miss him.
“I need to make a few calls.” Samite stands up from my kitchen table, waggling the replacement phone he just got.
“Feel free. We won’t listen in.” I wink at him and set my things down, grabbing a protein bar and my lemon-infused water from the fridge.
He grimaces. “I’ll take a walk. Be back soon.” Such a secretive guy, that one.
Holly rouses from the couch and rubs her eyes, looking so much better after a change of clothes and power nap. She points at my bathroom. “Can I . . .”
“Please. There are towels if you want a shower. I picked up some groceries. We can have girl dinner. I’m fully stocked with ramen and cheese crackers and fresh figs and rocky road ice cream and half a dozen avocados.”
She smiles. “Perfect. I can’t thank you enough.”
I make a dismissive, messy sound with my lips and wave her off. When the bathroom door clicks, I shuffle to my room and fall face first into my fluffy duvet.
5:58pm. I prop up my phone against a pillow and use its glossy surface to tame down some of my flyaways. I’m sure I look like a hot mess, but I can’t bring myself to care. I just want to see Rom again so badly, I’m on the verge of tears. Everything feels so out of control without his steady presence convincing me we’ve got this all under control. We.
At six o’clock on the dot, I dial his number.
His face appears on the screen, pixelated images that flicker and flash in a chaotic dance. The sound of the wind comes across in a scary crackle. His face comes into focus, hair blowing wildly around him and gaze intense.
“Oh my gosh, it’s so windy. And a little dark. I don’t like that it’s so dark and you hiked all the way up th—”
“I’m fine, goddess.” He shows me the flashlight in his opposite hand. He”s prepared.
I sigh and just take in the sight of him, so glad I made it home in time for this call. While it was super fun going full steam ahead to help Holly and Samite get situated today, boundaries are also important. I need to make sure I’m home at a reasonable hour, that I have a balanced meal for dinner. Drink eight glasses of water. Shoot, I may even take up journaling!
And at least for the next week, I have these telephone dates with Rom to get me on self-care training wheels. I’ll be home by 6:00pm every night no matter what.
“You’re thinking awful loud,” Rom says. “Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”
For the next hour, we talk about our days. He decided to reread the books I picked out and made it all the way to this really sexy moment two characters share in a bathroom. They’re best friends and it’s the slowest of slow burns. Mmmm, that scene kills me every time. Soon enough, I’m squirming, wishing Rom was here to hold me.
I insist we end the call because it’s so dark, but he compromises that he’ll hike back if we keep talking until the reception drops out. Ugh, I don’t want him in a snowy wilderness alone. I want him here. Seeing that black screen cut him off halfway through his thoughts on the class differences in the story’s worldbuilding makes a lump form in my throat.
“6:00pm tomorrow,” I whisper to the screen and take a deep, cleansing breath.
Then, it’s back to my new friends.
I take a quick shower, and Holly and I throw dinner together. She’s a teacher, which makes total sense. Librarians and teachers go together like peaches and cream, so it’s no surprise we click as well as we do. She’s an absolute sweetheart with the goofiest sense of humor.
Samite should be back any minute now. We giggle over Holly accidentally calling him Sam earlier. His lip curled in the most comical way, and it made us both absolutely crack up. He hates it, which just means we call him Sam as a general rule now. He’s an easy demon to rile up, but it’s all in good fun. And frankly, he deserves some good old-fashioned teasing.
Samite strides through the front door and proceeds to grumble over our offerings while still expecting to eat like a king.
Holly and I lay my dollar-store dish towels over our forearms and flourish each plate before placing it on the coffee table like we’re vying for a Michelin star.
“Sun-ripened avocado on a bed of crispy smoked cheddar with a hint of lemon,” I say in a sing-song voice for the avocado chunks on cheese crackers. Adding a drop of lemonade on each was Holly’s genius idea.
“Delicate noodles softened in a garlic-infused broth over an open flame,” Holly introduces the ramen with impeccable delivery.
“And a frozen fig delicacy for dessert.” I set three coffee cups filled with the last of my rocky road topped with diced dried figs.
Samite sniffs the avocado cracker and eats it with the grace of a celebrity chef judge.
“This is palatable,” he says, both grabby hands already reaching for more.
“Thank you, Sam.” I bow and smirk at Holly.
“Sam-I-Am. Would you prefer green eggs and ham?” Holly barely gets the words out before we both dissolve into giggles.
Samite actually cracks a smile, and I know we’ve finally got him. I pull out the reserves from my closet — leftover Halloween candy — and we all get a little sugar-high as talk turns to our slightly tragic love lives.
I tell them about Rom, and they remind me to trust my gut. Samite shares that he fears his feelings for Sofia may not be reciprocated. We tell him to woo the shit out of her as a last resort. Holly spills more about the hot-and-cold situationship she found herself in with Az. She knows she deserves an apology, and I really hope she gets one.
Samite decides to extend his stay through the New Year’s Eve festival, and we make plans for lunch tomorrow. Holly is quite literally stuck in town. Her rental car and all her belongings are buried under the avalanche, so she has to wait in town until they can dig it out. Thankfully, she’s in better spirits and seems excited about helping me with the library’s fundraiser.
Over junk food and friendship, the sun sets, filtering its warm pink light across my messy living room. As of this morning, we were three strangers thrust together by fate and a shared natural disaster. But here we are eating junk food, oversharing, and laughing like we’ve known each other for years. Friendship has a way of taking you by surprise that way.
By nightfall, Holly, Samite, and I are three much-less pitiful peas in a pod. You might even call us hopeful.
It’s New Year”s Eve.
Everything is perfect.
Well, almost everything.
It’s been four days, and Last Hour Road still isn’t clear. Everything I’m hearing around town says the road crew made a lot of progress up the mountain but may cut out early today because of the holiday. Since Miss Ethel’s cabin is so high up, Rom probably won’t be able to get down the mountain until tomorrow.
“We sold out of raffle tickets!” Holly looks up at me with pride from our festive fundraiser table near the town square. She’s been such a huge help these last few days, along with Samite, Uncle Darren, and my student workers. Everyone really pitched in when I gave in and finally asked for help.
“$15,000,” I whisper in awe, roller skating over to the fundraiser poster and coloring the green up to the top line. Fran and Than are still working the impromptu used book sale table on the other side of the square, so that number may be even higher. All that stress, months of worrying if I’d ever be out from under all the back bills, if I’d ever actually live with a buffer, and just like that . . . “We did it.”
A small crowd has gathered to hear the winner of the raffle announced. The generous prize of endless drinks, snacks, and a catering order from the new coffee shop in town has really gotten Perkatory a lot of buzz.
I look over the smiling faces of so many people I recognize, mostly demons since it’s their big holiday, but there’s a good mix of orc, human, fae, and shifters in this town too. We have such a supportive community, so many kindhearted people. Times like these make all the hard work of running the library worth it.
“Okay, here we go,” I sing out as my arm digs around the large fishbowl full of entries. “The grand prize winner is” — I pull out a ticket — “A835.”
“It’s me?” A familiar gasp sounds out. “I never win anything!”
The flushed face of a library regular steps to the front.
“It couldn’t have gone to a more deserving person.” I give her a big hug and send up thanks to the powers that be that it was an overworked single mom that won. What a treat that she’ll be able to pick up a drink before every nursing shift for the next year.
“Everybody is a winner, though!” I flash a stack of tickets I just printed up this morning. “One free specialty drink of your choice when Perkatory opens next month. Special thanks to the Perchaz family for their generosity.” I get a little choked up at that part but keep it together, bolstered by all the hugs and handshakes as folks congratulate us on a successful fundraiser.
$15,000. It still doesn’t feel real.
My uncle stands in front of the fundraiser chart, his arm looped through the supervisor from the memory care facility. The two of them have helped us so much over the last few days.
“What’s this?” he asks. The lines on his forehead tell me he’s probably stuck in a mental fog right now.
“The library is going to get a bunch of upgrades.” I paste on a smile even though emotion burns in my throat. I’m simultaneously super proud of what we’ve accomplished and upset that it had to be when the man who led the library for decades can’t fully experience its future.
“A new radiator?” he asks.
I shake my head. He replaced that years ago. “The radiator’s doing good. This is for some touch ups. Paint, light fixtures, and some furniture. The fundraiser did so well, we can even bring on a new part-time librarian.”
I use we just in case he’s not clear that I’m in charge now. And there’s more I don’t say about the fundraiser out loud, because it’s too much to get into if he’s not in the right frame of mind.
So much I can scarcely believe it’s all real.
I just signed a stellar new lease with my landlord; stabilized rent at the same rate I’m paying now for a new five-year agreement. I also get the first right of refusal on a mortgage if they choose to sell the building. All structural repairs will be completed by the end of March on their dime as they work to get everything up to code before the building’s first historic property inspection.
My uncle nods and fidgets with his ring, a nervous habit he’s always had. He traces the back of his hand with a thumb, eyes flitting over the weathered, thin skin.
He glances up, pausing for a beat to look me over. “Noey?”
I recognize that expression on his face. He’s confused and right on the brink of being scared by it. He needs to know something for sure, even if that”s a someone. I’ll never not be that for him. I always want to be his safe place, even if it grows more bittersweet each day.
“It’s me. Up to no Goode.” I pinch my lips to the side, my vision swimming as I skate over to hug him. They say touch helps people struggling with memory loss, and I’ve always been a hugger, so it helps me too.
We rock together for a moment before he whispers in my hair, “You’re so old.”
I chuckle and squeeze him tighter. “So are you, ya old goof.”
I wonder for a moment which Noelle he expected to see. The eight-year-old who just learned to skate? The fourteen-year-old with her first heartbreak?
“You’re in charge of the library now?” he asks.
I nod and know he can feel it since we’re cheek to cheek. I go with a few reassurances that help most of the time. “You’re retired. Happy. You volunteer when you can. The library is doing great.” My voice cracks, still processing how true that is. The fundraiser was such a success that the money raised can really go to improvements rather than just staying afloat.
He pulls back, and his eyes dance over my face. Maybe I’m the little kid in a grown woman’s body, and he’s seeing me again for the first time. I wish I had a way of knowing what this is like for him.
“I’m proud of you.” He squeezes my shoulders like he’s trying to physically cement our connection. “I’ve always been proud of you. I hope you know that.”
“I know.” I hug him again, so he doesn’t get alarmed that there are tears falling down my face. For me, crying doesn’t only happen when I’m happy or sad. It’s a pressure release valve. I cry anytime the emotions get too much to hold in, and today has been a super emotional day.
Saving the library may be a holiday miracle, but some things can’t be fixed with a magic wand. Sometimes life takes an irrevocable turn, and we have no choice but to adapt. Find a new normal. Hold tight to all the good we can, whatever we have left.
“A raffle!” He points at the sign, and we break apart. “How smart. That radiator does need repairing.”
The supervisor from the facility nods at me and steps up, looping her arm through his.
“Did you know we have a coffee shop now?” He reads the sign and looks at her. “We should check that out.”
“We will.” She pats his arm. “It hasn’t opened up yet, but soon.”
I wave as they leave and finish clearing off the table. My phone alarm chimes. 5:50pm pulses on my screen in black and white. Butterflies set off in my stomach.
“I’ll go grab some boxes to pack up.” I tell Holly, who’s already stacking supplies and breaking things down.
“Mmhmm.” She waves me off with a knowing smile. At this point, she’s well aware of my nightly standing call at 6 o’clock. I love that she’s dressed to the nines in a velvet burgundy dress and white shawl. She’s really bounced back from when we first met and embraced this little town like it’s her own.
“Thanks, girl.” I navigate my way through the crowd, slightly taller than most because of my roller skates. The parade is finishing up as the town moves from the family-friendly festival to adults-only party mode.
Fire dancers twirl down Main Street, the ends of their skirts alight as they spin and shift around each other in a dizzying dance. Stilt walkers hand out sparklers to kids. The high school marching band, dressed all in red and orange, fill the streets with a happy tune. Somehow, the tuba’s horn bursts out flames with each loud honk.
Nearby, crews of demons are setting up the fire altars along the road and the main square. Soon, the Devout, a religious sect of demonkind, will do their fancy incantation to conjure a lava eruption from Mount Winter Bliss. It helps keep the volcano stable and the townsfolk safe, but mostly I love the whole shebang because come on, half naked demons doing fire magic?
It’s pretty stinking cool.
As nightfall approaches, big wigs from all over gather for the prestigious honor of leading a torch-lit procession from city hall to the town square, lighting the altars as they go. Visitors toss in their offerings, usually sentimental objects or notes meant to symbolically bid farewell to the past year. As the New Year”s ball drops, the magical ritual begins.
It’s almost mythic, one of those moments where being part of this town feels like I’m a part of something bigger than myself.
Tonight, there’s only one person I want to experience it with, but he’s still snowed in miles away.
There’s no way he’ll be here.
All the success of the fundraiser, all the joy and hope of the new year surrounding me, none of it can distract me any longer from my aching heart.
I unlock the library’s front door and dial Rom’s number, wedging the phone between my shoulder and my ear as I grab some boxes and make my way to the front window.
No answer. Hmm. That’s odd.
I stare out the stained glass. The window pane is red, and I see Winter Bliss, my whole little world, through truly rose-colored glasses. The holidays are full of so much joy, even when its bittersweet. Families walk by, bundled up and laughing. A horse-drawn carriage drifts by carrying two lovers. Groups of revelers laugh and dance across the street. A light flurry drifts over the scene of a small town filled with festive lights and the dots of fires just getting started.
Winter Bliss is my home. I can’t see myself anywhere else.
But I want Rom too. And I want him here.
I call his number again, and he picks up with a garbled, “Noelle?”
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine.” His voice cuts out, but his tone isn’t distressed. The line crackles. “See . . . and . . . do . . . urch.” Followed by a crystal clear. “Okay?”
“I can’t hear you.” I clutch the phone; my words slow and overloud like any of that will help when clearly the service isn’t great. Maybe the weather is bad up on Frostwing tonight. I didn’t even check to see. “Be careful, please. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Were . . . fine . . .” and the line goes dead.
Ugh. So much for our call tonight. It sounded like he said he was fine, at least a couple times. I’m sure it’s the weather or local cell phone lines being used a lot since it’s a busy holiday. I don’t know how any of that works. This just isn’t how I saw our last week together going, garbled words over bad connections.
“Three days,” I whisper to myself.
It’s less time than we had in the cabin together. Each hour is like a death knell in my heart. The fact I’m so glum about it makes me feel guilty. I have my family. I have this town. Most of all, I have my purpose. The library. It just sucks that everyone I hit it off with — Rom, Holly, Samite — seems to only be passing through.
While I stay in Winter Bliss, alone.
Sure, I could try to keep in touch, flirt long-distance with Rom or even settle for stalking his social media and being internet besties. But I know what always happens. We’ll play phone tag and slowly fall out of contact. I don’t know how much of the heartache I can take. It makes me sympathize with some of the older locals who close themselves off to visitors and only chit chat at arm’s length. I get it.
But that’s just not me. I love with all that I have, and I like that about me.
“Love.” My breath fogs up the glass. I trace a heart with my finger and smile.
He said he loved me back then. It was sweet, and I assumed he just meant a childhood sweetheart kind of thing. But I still feel it now, and I think he does too.
To be with him might mean dealing with a few missed connections, but I can adjust. Even if a long-distance relationship is full of challenges, Rom is worth the extra effort. He’s worth everything to me.
I reposition the boxes at my side and open the door, determined to enjoy my New Year’s Eve. I may not see him tonight, but tomorrow I’ll tell him what I want.
A second chance at first love.