Chapter 3
Chapter Three
MATTHEW
I’ve never been so happy I didn’t check in a bag.
Between all the yelling at ticketing agents, overfilled baggage carousels, and people pushing their way through the crowd, I can’t imagine the headache it would be to try to get my bags back.
In the walk from the gate, I overheard at least three other flights being cancelled.
From what I could hear, some are because of weather, and others from staffing issues.
While it’s horrible so many people are stranded here, all I’m concerned with is getting out of this airport as fast as possible.
I can’t deny that I was excited when I first heard my flight had been cancelled. I would have done pretty much anything to delay my trip back to Gingerbread Grove, but my mom squandered any plans I might have had when she tracked my flight and looked up alternative routes.
Now, here I am, standing in the lineup for rental cars, taking deep breaths to drive away the building feeling of panic that sits in my chest. Not only does the thought of returning home sit like a pit in my stomach, but so does the thought of driving five and a half hours in the dark while it’s snowing.
I might have grown up in the country, but it’s been years since I’ve driven, well, anywhere.
I haven’t had much use for a car in the city, so I sold my truck once I got settled in my apartment.
It was too big for the narrow downtown streets, and it meant that I could make a little extra money by renting out my parking space.
Tapping my fingers along the strap of my bag that sits on my shoulder, I peer over the person in front of me, hoping they both do—and don’t—have a car for me.
If they don’t, it’s one less method to get me to Gingerbread Grove, although I’m sure my mom would stop at nothing less than a flying reindeer to get me back home tonight.
After what feels like a small eternity, the person in front of me steps aside and I’m greeted with the exhausted face of a man about my age behind the desk, looking like he’d rather be anywhere than where he is right now.
His eyes have dark circles under them, his hair is dishevelled as if he’s run his fingers through it frequently, and his shoulders are slumped.
“How can I help you?” The corner of his mouth lifts in an attempted smile. I’ll give him credit for his effort.
“I’d like to rent a car, please. Anything you have is fine,” I state as I reach into my jeans pocket for my wallet.
“You’re in luck. We have one car left.” The agent types frantically, not taking his eyes off the screen. “Driver’s licence, please. I’ll get this started for you.”
I slide my licence across the counter, finding myself shifting from foot to foot.
Now that I know I’ll be getting a car, the anxious feeling is growing.
All while I’m answering questions, filling out paperwork, and handing over my credit card—while not paying attention to how much this is going to cost me because I know it’ll hurt—I can’t help but draw my attention to the doors.
The snow is starting to pick up, with the flakes getting bigger and bigger the longer I’m standing here.
“All right, that’s it. The attendant will bring the car out to you at the curb marked with our company logo. He’ll give you the keys and then you’re on your way.”
“Thank you.” I breathe a sigh of relief that this portion is over.
“Merry Christmas,” the agent says again with that sad smile of his. I look down to see ‘Dave’ on his name tag. I feel for the guy, and the backlash he’s about to get from the crowd of agitated travellers behind me after they find out I’m taking the last car.
“Merry Christmas to you, too, Dave.” I give him a nod as I walk away, holding the strap of my bag tighter on my shoulder. While I may not like the holiday, I can appreciate the man’s attempt to find anything joyous in this headache.
I can tell the moment he puts up the sign there are no more rental cars when there is a large uproar of groans and yelling behind me. I block it out once I step outside, feeling for Dave, but knowing that I have my own challenge ahead of me I need to focus on.
My eyes scan the curb side of the airport as I search for the rental company’s name.
Bus charters, taxi companies, and shuttle service logos light up in front of me as I pass by.
Wrapping my jacket tighter around me against the bitter cold, a shiver wracks through my body as my eyes continue searching.
Finally, as if a beacon against this miserable night, I see the company’s bright green logo at the end of the line.
Because, of course, it would be the farthest from their counter inside the airport.
Where it was nice and warm. Where they would make you walk through the arctic tundra that is the wind tunnel of the airport’s arrival terminal.
“Hey!” I hear the shout behind me, but considering I don’t know anyone here, I don’t bother turning around.
Instead, I put my head down to keep it from the blast of cold air that comes with a passing bus and pick up my speed.
I can only pray my car will be waiting for me when I finally make it through this marathon of angry people.
“Hey, gate guy!”
That gets my attention. I turn to find the frustrated elf from the gate running up to me, her laptop bag falling off her shoulder as she struggles to pull a rolling bag behind her while not losing the ridiculous green and red hat on her head.
“Gate guy? I have a name, you know.”
“Well, obviously,” she says with a huff and an eye roll as she comes to a rolling stop in front of me. “But I don’t know what it is.”
“It’s Matthew.” I turn back around the corridor of cars coming and going, hoping mine is one of them.
“Well, Matt, I’m Avery,” she says as she struggles to keep up with me.
“Matthew,” I correct, trying to suppress the irritation at the nickname.
“Not one for nicknames?”
“No.” I come to a stop at the rental car sign, seeing no car in sight. It only adds to my irritation, but I take a breath to hide it. It’s not Avery’s fault I’m stuck in this mess and hate nicknames. At the same time, who uses a nickname with a stranger?
“Right. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Matthew.” Now I want to roll my eyes at how she emphasizes my full name. “So…you got the last rental car.”
“Looks like it,” I answer, looking down the line of arriving cars, searching like I know which one is mine, which I don’t.
“And we were both on our way to Kamloops…”
“Yup.” I shove my hands in the pockets of my jacket, trying to warm them up. I didn’t bring gloves with me because I didn’t expect to be standing in the bitter cold.
“So really, the only logical explanation would be for us to share the car.”
“Sorry, what?” I turn to her, my brain not comprehending her train of thought.
“Think about it. You’re going to Kamloops. I’m going to Kamloops. You have a car. I don’t.” She looks at me like that answers it all.
“You can’t be serious.” I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Of course I am. I don’t just walk around asking strangers for rides all the time.”
“I sure hope not,” I mutter under my breath, although I’m not at all convinced that isn’t exactly what she does.
“Please? I wouldn’t be asking if this wasn’t important. I need to get home. To Kamloops. Tonight.”
“Then talk to the airline. Get on the next flight.” I rock on the balls to the heels of my feet, feeling a little bad for how I’m treating her.
It’s not my problem that I beat her to the last rental car.
At the same time, a tiny spark of my long-forgotten Christmas spirit is ignited, hating the feeling of leaving this elf stranded until who-knows-when, especially when she sounds so sad about needing to get out of the city.
This car needs to hurry up. Now.
“They aren’t rebooking anyone right now. They told us we’re on our own until next week and I am not staying in this horrible city that long and over Christmas. Please?”
The desperation in her voice made me look down at her.
Really look at her for the first time. She’s a good foot shorter than me, maybe more with the ridiculous red and green hat on her head.
The blonde hair sticking out of her cap curls at her shoulders and her big blue eyes look up at me, pleading with me to take pity on her.
“How do you know I’m not some serial killer?”
“Well, are you?” She tilts her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at me.
“No, but you don’t know that.”
“Let’s just say you were for fun. I highly doubt you’d be taking a plane from the largest airport in the province to another city within the same province. That wouldn’t be a great place to run from the authorities. Now, maybe if you were leaving the country, that would be a different story.”
“Should I be worried about how quickly you came up with that answer? Maybe I need be asking if you’re the serial killer.”
“Don’t be silly. Only eight-point-six percent of serial killers are women, so statistically speaking, the chances of you running into one at the Vancouver International Airport at any given time are ridiculously low.”
“You knowing that stat off the top of your head is not helping your case.”
Avery shrugs. “My sister listens to a lot of true crime podcasts. I guess some of it has rubbed off on me.”
“It’s still not safe for you to just ask some random man to take you on a five-hour car ride. At night. In the snow. It might be the norm in the North Pole, but not in Vancouver.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m hardly from the North Pole—and if I wasn’t desperate to get out of the city, I wouldn’t.
Plus, we aren’t strangers now. We’ve exchanged names.
You know about my family and my job. We’re practically friends.
” She hesitates for a moment but then slumps her shoulders when I don’t respond.
“Please? I’m only asking because I can’t stay here. I need to get home.”
I don’t know what’s come over me, but I have the biggest urge to help this woman out.
I don’t know if it’s pity, the small town chivalry that’s been instilled in me since I was born, or the Christmas spirit that for some reason decided to make a return after years of being absent, but I know I can’t leave this woman stranded.
Exhaling loudly, I watch as it forms a cloud in front of me in the cold. “Fine. But there are rules.”
“Yay! Thank you so much!” Avery jumps on the spot, leaning in as if she is going to give me a hug, but then pulls back at the last moment, thinking better of it.
Just as she’s about to speak again, my sedan pulls up in front of us. It’s smaller than my tall frame would comfortably fit in, but if it means I’m getting out of this airport, I’ll take it.
For the first time in a long time, I pray. Not for safety, but rather, that I’m not going to regret my decision.