Chapter 6 #2
Spinning to collect the duffel to the side of the fireplace, I shoved the clothes back into it, the haphazard packing taking up way too much space.
I fisted the cash laid on the hearth urgently into the side pocket.
If he lived in a place like this, he wouldn’t be short of cash, but still, I needed it and I couldn’t afford to be robbed.
Afford. Hilarious, Iz.
Slowing momentarily as I picked up the layers I wore yesterday, I couldn’t change here. I’d have to put them on over what I wore, the discomfort of too many layers would be an improvement on the discomfort of this stranger’s disapproval.
The irritation radiating off him was thicker than the snowstorm yesterday, and I’d choose to take my chances outside as a preference to being in here.
Should I ask for help? The thought left me as quickly as it arrived. I could trust no-one if I couldn’t be absolutely sure they wouldn’t immediately return me to my family, and Teddy.
“Alex. What’s this?” The voice wasn’t from the hulking gargoyle on the kitchen table.
“An unwelcome guest, Benjamin.”
The door I originally entered by closed. Before it stood a tall man. Sunglasses covered his eyes, but I could see a shock of ruffled ash-blond hair and fair skin soft in the sunlight, contrasting against the deep black hoodie he wore.
The light from the windows cast across his face, he was in his twenties, maybe, fair stubble grew across the chiselled angles of his jaw.
He glowed, everything about him almost angelic.
“Did you leave the back door unlocked?” The growl from the man the newcomer called Alex interrupted my thoughts and I turned my attention back to the shadowed threat.
The man in the doorway, the one called Benjamin, shrugged at the question before posing one of his own.
“Why is she wearing alien pyjamas?”
“Perhaps because she made herself comfortable in our home believing no-one was here.” The accusation landed and I felt myself shrink back even further.
“But she’s alone?” Benjamin queried.
“Yes, Ben, she is alone.” Alex’s tone softened marginally.
“That’s not good.” He stomped his feet before bending and removing his shoes, something the other man hadn’t done, the snow turning to water on his boots and dripping on the floor quietly.
“She’s apologised. And she is leaving,” I murmured, loud enough for them to hear, but not wanting to really garner too much more attention from them.
“That won’t be possible.” Benjamin didn’t stop what he was doing, straightening the laces of his work boots then crossing into the living room where I stood.
He paused briefly as he drew closer, shifting marginally before slowly adjusting course to arc around me creating extra space.
“Uh, why is that?” I kept my body facing Alex, turning my face to watch as Ben placed the boots carefully by the fire, selecting a log and placing it in the hearth before straightening.
“The storm hasn’t broken. When it does, the drifts will be over four feet high. Since you have seemingly arrived on foot, you won’t be able to walk to town until it clears.”
He skirted back around the space towards the kitchen, collecting a large towel from a cupboard and laying it under Alex’s feet.
“That’s not possible,” I gasped. It couldn’t be.
Momentarily forgetting the man on the table I spun, pulled back the curtains by the sofas and threw my hand over my mouth, unfortunately too late to catch the groan.
Snow piled up, spilling over the window ledges, waves and drifts visible, but even looking over to the barns, there was no way it was below three and a half to four feet deep.
“I have to get to Saint Margaret’s,” I whispered, checking and finding a clock behind me.
“I have to be in Saint Margaret’s, by noon.” My voice was louder now.
Neither of the men replied, Ben had taken up a seat by the table, his sunglasses had lightened in colour but remained tinted and he removed them, twisting them around between his fingers.
Now his glasses were off, the rest of his face became clear, and angelic was insufficient. His high cheekbones were overshadowed by the ice blue of his eyes, framed by thick lashes.
He was watching me, blinking slowly.
The light in the room had brought the other man into clear focus. And where Ben was light, Alex was dark.
Brown hair and stubble on tan skin. Dark eyes, not brown, maybe a grey from what I could see. He wore a thick brown coat over tattered blue jeans and sodden boots, which were all dusted with snow. His face was marked with what could have been grease, his hands too.
“Well, that won’t be possible,” Alex ground out, as if the inconvenience for him was even close to mine.
Panic shifted into adrenaline and I began to yank the joggers over my pyjamas.
“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.” I tried to stop the irritation at how Alex now observed me, openly disapproving, from bleeding into my tone.
Unfortunately, women often got further if they were perceived as needing assistance.
“But you must have a mode of travel? A truck?” I hopped, forcing my other leg into the trousers, the Stitch pyjamas sliding up my leg forcing me to dig around inside the bottoms to try to straighten them out.
Ben tilted his head, slipping his glasses back over his eyes, obscuring them. It was bright, but we were inside. What was the need for sunglasses?
“There’s the snowmobiles.” His reply was soft.
“Could one of you take me to the bay on that?” I asked, hopeful. “I can pay?”
Alex snorted and my hope died.
“The snowmobiles can’t make it to the bay. They can barely make it to the manor in this, Ben.”
“Then no, sorry.” Ben stood, brushing his hands down his clothes and strolling over to a staircase I realised occupied the far wall of the house, disappearing from view.
“But–” My words faltered and I swallowed, dread chilling me. “What do I do? I have to be in town. I have to. Midday. I’m meeting them at midday.”
Prickling behind my eyes warned me I was perilously close to crying.
“When will it pass? I need to get to town.” My voice finally cracked.
The hulking form of Alex rose, unfolding to his full height, at least six-foot, and broad.
“A storm that looks like it’ll get somewhere near six-foot snow drifts?” he snorted. “Last time we had weather like this was decades ago.”
I blinked at him, waiting.
“Then it took two, maybe three weeks to lift.”
“Three weeks?” Desperation definitely laced my tone.
He simply laughed, and it wasn’t a happy one.
“In the towns, yeah. But up here? Oxney bowl? A dead zone and a weather trap.” His lip curled. “It could clear in six weeks. I’d be surprised if it was a day under four.”
My jaw hung in horror.
Alex stripped his coat, sighing.
“But no-one is coming to dig us out.”