Whispered Prayers of a Girl

He looks out the windshield, his brows narrowed into a frown. Kelsey fidgets beside me, and I look down at her. She’s looking forward and most wouldn’t notice it, but I see the worry on her face. She doesn’t show her feelings often; the scared look on her face earlier and right now are more than I’ve seen in a while. I reach over and grab her hand. She looks up at me and I smile, trying to ease her worry.

The man’s hand brushes my shoulder when he lays his arm on the back of the seat. He turns his head to look out the back windshield and the truck starts to move backwards slowly. A minute later, he’s backing into a narrow road that looks to be access to a field, then pulls forward and drives the way we just came from.

“Where are we going?” I ask, curious.

“My place,” he grunts.

My eyes widen in shock. I’m not sure what I expected his answer to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.

“Do you have a landline? Maybe I can call someone—”

“And what?” he interrupts. “Have them drive over the huge tree in the road? Or have them risk themselves going over the mountain?”

I snap my mouth shut, because he’s right. My only two choices are to take the kids back to the car, something I wouldn’t do, or let him bring us to his house. I know nothing about this guy, but he doesn’t rub me as being someone to harm us. I still hate knowing we’ll be imposing on him though.

“Mom,” Daniel says, tugging once again on my jacket. “I really have to go.”

Before I get a chance to respond, the man does. “Five minutes, kid. Or I can pull over if you can’t wait and you can freeze your willie off.”

I sputter out a laugh and the guy looks over at me. His face is blank and the look wipes away my lingering mirth.

“Can you wait five minutes, Daniel?”

I can tell he wants to say no, but he’s trying to pull off the big-boy act in front of the man. After several seconds, he nods.

I look up. “Since you’re taking us to your home, can we have your name?” That’s one thing that’s bugged me since yesterday, not knowing his name.

He takes so long to answer that I fear he won’t. We’re passing by my car on the side of the road when he says gruffly, “Alexander.”

For some reason, the name suits him perfectly. “Thank you for helping us, Alexander,” I tell him.

He doesn’t respond, just keeps his eyes pinned on the road in front of us. Several minutes pass before we turn down what I assume is his driveway. The snow is still coming down heavily, so it’s hard to see what we’re driving toward. Everyone stays silent as we slowly creep along, until we pull up to a small cabin. And a cabin is definitely what it is.

He pulls to a stop, shuts off the engine, then opens his door. I follow suit an

d get out of the truck, then turn to help the kids down. As we walk to the porch, I take stock of the cabin. It’s rustic and well-used, but looks properly maintained. We follow Alexander up the steps, and I notice two wicker chairs and a small table between them. On the railing, there’s a coffee mug. He notices it at the same time I do and picks it up.

“I was out here drinking coffee when I noticed your truck,” he explains.

I turn and look out over the yard toward where I know my Range Rover is. I can barely see anything but a little red blip off in the distance. My eyes slide to the left, and I see a big red barn about fifty feet away. Then they land on a partially built structure.

When I turn back around, Alexander is already gone and the door is standing wide open. I walk the kids across the threshold, then close the door behind us. I take a minute to look around the place. It’s just as small as it looks from the outside, but it has a homey feel to it. The floors are a dark hardwood, along with the walls. On one wall is a mounted TV with a brown leather couch and a small wooden table across from it. In the corner is a fireplace that currently holds burning logs. There’s a fluffy gray rug in front of it. Very cozy. At the opposite end of the room starts a small area where it looks like a table should be. Beyond that is the kitchen. I spot Alexander standing at the stove.

A wiggling Daniel reminds me that we need the bathroom. I take off my jacket and gloves and have the kids do the same, then hang them on the hooks by the door. Grabbing his hand and with Kelsey following me, I walk us to the bar that separates the dining area and kitchen.

“Could you point us to the bathroom?” I ask Alexander’s back.

He doesn’t turn around as he says, “Down the hall on the left.”

With one last glance at his back, I lead the kids across the living room and into the hall. The bathroom we enter is small, with only a toilet and sink. Kelsey and I wait outside while Daniel does his business. I notice a closed door across from the bathroom and another down at the end. Kelsey goes next while Daniel and I wait.

Once they’re both done, we go back to the living room to the couch. “You both sit while I go talk to Mr. Alexander.”

He’s still standing at the stove when I walk into the kitchen. Steam rises from the pot he’s stirring.

“I want to thank you again for helping us,” I say. “Hopefully the roads will be clear enough tomorrow so my truck can be pulled out and we can get out of your hair.”

“They won’t.”