The Christmas Blanket

I needed to be free of him.

I shook my head, and the image of pine-green eyes that seemed to haunt me even still, keeping my focus on the road.

But it didn’t matter.

Focusing or not, the best damn driver in the northeast or an out-of-stater driving in the snow for the very first time, nothing could have prevented what happened next.

The front left tire of my car hit a pothole buried under the snow, sending me skidding across the ice. It was getting late, the last of the sun fading, temperatures dropping, and all of that combined with the fresh snow left a slick sheet of ice on that shady part of the road that I just didn’t see.

I gripped the wheel as best I could, holding it steady, trying to slow down without braking too hard, but the car wouldn’t comply with my will. I cursed myself for not thinking to get an SUV or at least some snow tires, but I hadn’t expected a storm. I was still thinking of what I could’ve, would’ve, should’ve done when the wheels started to slide toward the left side of the road. I knew even when I did it that I involuntarily cranked the wheel too much, but it was too late to correct my mistake.

The car whipped around, sliding in reverse off the edge of the road and into the snowy ditch.

I stopped with a quiet thunk of metal against snow, or perhaps metal against the mud I knew was under that snow. I didn’t give myself time to think too much on it, though, before I was gassing it.

“Come on, come on,” I prayed under my breath as the wheels spun under me. Snow and mud went flying in my rearview mirror, the front wheels trying to find traction but coming up short. Every time it would move a little, hope would surge in my chest, but just as quickly I’d slide backward.

“Fuck!”

I let off the gas, dropping my head back to the headrest and forcing as much of a calming breath as I could in that moment. The snow was coming down even harder now, the wind picking up, and I knew I needed to get out of my car and find some traction for these wheels — fast — or I’d be in trouble.

I checked the signal on my phone, knowing before I looked that there’d be no service. There never was on this road, or most of the roads out past the little village on the lake. Wellhaven might as well have been the middle of the ocean when it came to cell service.

Calling my dad wasn’t an option, but I knew if I could just find some wood and stick it under the tires, get some traction… I could be on the road and at my parents in twenty.

I shrugged on my coat, put on my gloves, and pulled my thick, knitted beanie over my ears. Then, with one final breath and a silent you can do this, I shoved the driver-side door open.

And instantly, my breath was stolen.

It didn’t matter how thick my coat or hat or gloves were. It didn’t matter that I’d had the heat blasting inside the car. It didn’t matter that I’d at least been smart enough to put on my good, warm boots before leaving the airport. No amount of clothing could have prepared me for that icy wind.

I was already shivering when I rounded the back of the car to assess the damage, and when I saw the snow already piling up around the tires, my stomach sank.

This was not good.

I used the flashlight on the back of my phone, looking at the ditch and the woods behind it. Surely there would be some piece of scrap wood I could use for traction. I headed in that direction, squinting against the fluffy white flakes falling from the sky. One step, and my boot was covered in snow. A second step, and the snow hit my calf.

There was no option but to just go through the ditch, but I knew it wasn’t safe to be outside in this weather for too long.

I steeled a breath, preparing myself to be waist deep in the snow, but before I could take another step, a loud, deep voice called from behind me.

“Hey! You alright?!”

The voice was muffled by the wind, and I turned, hopeful, knowing whoever it was could help me. This was the beauty of Small Town America that I missed — there was always someone around to extend a neighborly hand.

The fear that had been niggling at my belly subsided, and I found my first breath since the car slid off the road.

I waved my hands in the air. “I need help! My car’s stuck!”

My savior was just a shadow in the dusk as he approached me, a big bundle of fabric behind the bright light of his flashlight. I climbed my way back to the side of the road, turning off my own flashlight that wasn’t doing much anyway. There was no other car or truck around, so I assumed the man had joined me from the end of the dirt driveway he was walking away from now.