The Christmas Blanket

“What?” I asked, incredulously and maybe a little too excitedly, since Moose let out a bark and started hopping around my feet again.

I was still staring at River with my mouth open like a trout when he chuckled, tipping his beer toward me. “No Internet. No phone.”

I blinked several times. “You have got to be kidding me. How the hell do you survive? Don’t you work? Don’t you need a way to get in touch with people?”

River shrugged. “I work, but I don’t need a phone or Internet to do it. And people know where to find me if they need me.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, letting out a sigh I hoped would give me a little patience to survive this interaction. “Fine,” I gritted through my teeth. “Can you just give me a ride up to Mom and Dad’s, please?”

“No can do.”

This time, I couldn’t help the growl that came from my throat. “You’re so maddening! Just take me home so we can both end this nightmare before Christmas.”

“Trust me, Eliza, I don’t want you here anymore than you want to be here,” he said, his voice low and rumbling so much it shook my own chest. His eyes were hard on mine when he crushed the can in his hand and chucked it into the trashcan next to him. “But there’s a fucking blizzard going on outside, and whether you planned for that or not doesn’t change the fact that it’s happening. I can’t drive anywhere, and neither can you, and neither can your dad, even if you could get in touch with him. That is the reality of the situation.” He threw his hands up. “Sorry if it doesn’t meet your storybook picture you had in mind.” Then, he pushed off the counter and dipped back inside the fridge, mumbling the next sentence so low I almost convinced myself I didn’t hear it at all. “Just like everything else in your life you left behind here.”

The wind howled outside, the wood cabin creaking against the pressure as if to hammer home the point River had just made. And I stood there by the fireplace, obstinate and frustrated, not wanting to take no for an answer.

“So, you’re telling me that I’m stuck here?” I deadpanned, gesturing toward him before I let my hand fall against my thigh with a slap. “With you.”

“Until the snow lets up and it’s safe for either me to drive you, get your car unstuck, or you to walk your happy ass the last dozen miles home?” He cracked open his new beer with a grin that told me he was more pleased than not. “Yep.”

The word popped on his lips, and I shook my head, wondering how this could possibly be my life. I hadn’t seen River since a week after we signed our divorce papers, on the day I left Wellhaven with a vow to never return.

A vow I stupidly broke, all in the name of being home for the holidays.

I sighed, looking down at Moose who was still wagging his tail furiously and smiling up at me like it was the best day of his life.

That makes one of us, pup.A heavy sigh found my chest as I stared at my reflection in the small, dingy mirror of River’s bathroom.

As I suspected, the only door in the back corner of his cabin had the bathroom behind it, and it was small, but clean — as clean as an old cabin bathroom could get, anyway.

There was no counter space, save for the small edge around the off-yellow ceramic sink, and it held only River’s toothbrush and toothpaste in a little plastic cup. I tried my best to find space for my own toiletries, but ended up setting them on the back of the toilet, since that was the only place they’d fit.

I felt a little more like a functioning human after brushing my teeth and washing my face, changing into a pair of sweatpants and oversized sweater, and pulling on my thickest pair of wool socks. As much as I wanted to pull all my heavy black hair off my neck, I left it there for warmth, seeing as how the fireplace was the only thing warming the entire cabin.

My eyes were just as black as my hair, the brown of the iris so dark you couldn’t tell the difference between it and my pupil unless you really stopped to stare. I was uncharacteristically tan for this time of year, thanks to my time in New Zealand, and it made the cream sweater I wore blaze in contrast.

I hadn’t even been in Vermont for a full day yet, and already I could feel my lips drying out, so I ran a sheen of lip balm over them and rolled them together, taking in my appearance one last time before I abandoned the bathroom and rejoined my gracious host.