Chapter 26
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
After such a restless first half of the night, I end up sleeping until almost lunchtime. As I shower, I replay the night before in my head. Of course I’m anxious, but I definitely overreacted and scared myself for no reason.
What did I think I was going to find under those sheets instead of an easel or a canvas? Body parts? I was being ridiculous. I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for the locked room too. I’ve been under a constant threat for so long that I can’t stop seeing everything as a sign of danger.
Alex grins at me from the kitchen table where he’s working on one of his wooden projects. “Did you finally get some sleep?”
“I guess so. I’m sorry about last night, wandering around so late and waking you up.”
“You didn’t wake me. I have trouble with insomnia sometimes too.”
“What are you working on?”
He picks up a square of dark stained wood. “A set of coasters for a friend’s wife. He wants them to look like the sky with puffy clouds. I’ve almost got it ready for the resin.” He watches me get a glass of juice from the fridge. “Do you like chili?”
“Love it.”
“Great, I thought we could just have sandwiches for lunch, and I’ll make a pot of my famous chili for dinner.”
“Famous, huh?” I tease.
“Widely known across my whole family.”
“Can’t wait.”
I’m not hungry at all, despite not eating much dinner so I skip lunch, then agree to help Alex feed the goats. Mostly, I want to see what it’s like outside now that the snow has turned to flurries.
The howl of the wind hasn’t let up, and it strikes us the second we step through his back door.
It cuts through my two layers of clothes like they’re made of paper.
The snow is unbelievably deep. A two-foot layer covers the ground everywhere, but the drifts in some areas are as tall as I am. It’s difficult to walk through.
For a moment, I remember my nightmare, trying to pull my legs out of the deep snow and being buried past my waist. No, I can’t let myself go there today.
I need to think clearly if I’m going to figure out what to do and when.
“It’s colder today,” I call over the intermittent roar of wind in my ears.
Alex nods and points to a large thermometer nailed beside the barn door that reads three degrees.
Stepping inside his warm barn is an immediate relief.
He kicks the snow off his boots. “It’s a lot colder.
Three degrees with all this wind is a dangerous level of cold.
I’ll bet the windchill is around negative twenty.
You could get frostbite in just a few minutes. ”
“The snow isn’t going anywhere soon.”
He gives me a sympathetic look. “That doesn’t mean they won’t be out plowing and trying to figure out how to get to us.”
I’m fighting to swallow my disappointment. Trying to walk fourteen miles in this, not to mention finding a way across an icy flooded creek, would be suicide. Last night, I’d convinced myself I could do it. In the light of day, I know better. If I die, Troy has no chance.
“Can I feed them?” I ask, when he opens the bin holding their food.
“Absolutely. We’re going to give them extra while it’s this cold. There’s only so much the heater out here can do. Why don’t you go ahead while I freshen their water?”
The goats were huddled in a big pile when we entered, but they quickly run over to me when I start putting out their food. Alex and I work quickly to get the chores done. While they may be warm enough out here, we aren’t.
Afterward, we head straight back to his house. My feet and hands are numb despite the gloves and boots I’m wearing. We kick off our snow-covered outerwear, and I go upstairs to change into sweatpants since my jeans are wet.
When I return with the knitting I was working on, Alex asks, “What are you making?”
“A stocking hat. Your sister left a lot of yarn. I can make you one if you want. They’re easy.”
“I’d love one.” He grins at me. “I’m going to get started on the chili for dinner. You’re welcome to put a movie on or some music.”
It’s my firm belief that music makes everything better. “How do you feel about rock? Or grunge?”
“Oh, you came to the right place.” He kneels down near the stereo and pulls out a wooden box full of cassettes and CD’s.
Almost all of them are rock and grunge, with a few pop albums thrown in as well.
“The radio doesn’t work. I keep meaning to get a new stereo, but the cassette and CD player are fine. ”
“Holy shit, these are great,” I exclaim, looking through the titles. He has a bunch that I’ve only heard on the radio. I can’t wait to hear the B-sides.
“You sound so surprised,” he says.
“Well, you live in Kentucky. I expected country or bluegrass. Not…um, young people music.”
He feigns offense, opening his mouth and laying a hand on his chest. “Are you calling me old?”
“No!” I can’t help but giggle at him. “Just older than me.” I glance up at him and he’s smiling at me. “Probably…forty?”
“Forty-four, so I’ll consider that an acceptable guess, young’un.”
I roll my eyes at him. “I’m twenty-three.”
“I stick by my statement. Play whatever you like but turn it up where I can hear it in the kitchen. Let me just get my cane so I can hobble in there and get started.”
“It’s okay. You can use your walker.” He chuckles and leaves me to put some music on.
I’ve never played a CD, and I’m delighted to find out that you can just skip to a song without all the forwarding and rewinding. I put on a Stone Temple Pilots album, then sit on the couch. Clover hops up to lie next to me, her warm fur against my leg.
I finish the hat and try it on. It’s perfect, and I’ll be happy to have it when I venture back outside. After switching to another CD, I start on a hat for Alex.
For once, my mind is calm. I’m not constantly wanting to check the phone for a dial tone or count the minutes for the day to pass. I’m content, singing under my breath to the music, knitting, and giving Clover an occasional scratch behind the ears while the savory smell of chili fills the air.
Alex walks out of the kitchen to announce the chili will be done soon and starts singing along with the song. He changes the chorus of Glycerine by Bush, and I can’t help but laugh as he sings, “Don’t let your teeth fall out. Listerine.”
We keep playing music as we eat dinner and both of us are more lighthearted, joking around with each other. I’m not sure why I’m feeling better when nothing has changed, but if there’s one thing I can do, it’s adapt.
I even dare to ask him about the locked room, and he doesn’t hesitate to answer.
“It’s my office. I keep all my business records from the auto shop in there. They contain people’s credit card information and stuff, so I like to keep it locked. I’ve never had a break-in or anything, but I’m a cautious guy.”
Again, perfectly reasonable explanation. Maybe everyone who owns their own business locks up that paperwork.
After dinner, we settle down in his living room to watch a movie.
He has an impressive collection of VHS tapes as well.
Since the only movies I’ve watched are the few Troy took me to see at the drive-in, there are plenty to choose from that are new to me.
I wonder if Troy is thinking about me now, if he’s worrying about me too.
I wish I could tell him I’m safe and warm.
After the first movie, we choose a second one. Before it starts, Alex carries in two cups of hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream and sets a big bowl of popcorn on the table. “I can’t believe it’s been snowing for three days, and I just now thought of hot chocolate.”
It tastes heavenly. Clover leaps up onto the couch to put her head in my lap as Alex sits in the recliner. “You little traitor,” he tells her. “And after I just gave you a treat.” Clover wags her tail but doesn’t move. We go back to the movie while I drink the chocolate and munch on popcorn.
The movie keeps me laughing, and Alex seems happy that we’re having some fun together. It probably isn’t enjoyable to have a stressed out woman trapped in your house but he’s been very kind about it.
I’m surprised when drowsiness starts to blur the edges of my vision.
After sleeping late, I expected to be up half the night.
I want to watch the rest of the movie, and the thought of walking upstairs to bed seems like too much effort, so I fight to stay awake.
The couch is incredibly comfortable. It feels like I’m sinking into it.
My body grows heavy and a wonderful peace flows through me.
My limbs don’t want to move, and I can’t open my eyes, but I don’t care.
I’m warm and content. From far away, I feel my feet being lifted onto the couch and then a blanket covers me.
It almost feels like I’m floating. Just floating in the dark.
I’ve felt these exact sensations a handful of times, curled up on my sleeping mat with music playing while Troy talked to me through the wall. It takes me right back to those rare nights when he managed to steal and slip me a Valium.
No. The realization clangs in my head, an alarm that comes too late as I’m swallowed by darkness.