“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey, Wilder, it’s Betty.”
“Hey, Mrs. Young, is everything okay?” She’s never called me on this line, but I’m not surprised she has my number. It’s posted in town at the general store in case anyone needs us up here and can’t get a hold of Natalie at the main office.
“I think so. My granddaughter Bri is on her way up to you.”
“In this weather? Why?” I hurry to look out the window like it might make her appear. “I’m not so sure that’s safe.”
“She’s got the truck but should probably be there by now. You forgot a package with your order, and I wanted to check and make sure she made it.”
“No, ma’am, she’s not here as far as I can see.” I’m already grabbing my coat and pulling it back on. “How long ago did you say she left?”
“It’s been at least an hour. I meant to call you as soon as I got home, but Roger was late picking me up.”
“Mrs. Young, you know how it is up here. The weather can turn rough quickly.”
“I know.” Now her voice is beginning to sound worried. “If it’s not too much trouble, can you ride out and check on her for me? She’s not used to driving in this, and I’m afraid this storm is going to be a big one.”
“I’m already on my way out.” I pull on my hat and grab my gloves by the phone. “Can you tell her husband to call me? If I find her, I can bring her down or meet him halfway.”
“Husband?” I hear her soft laughter, and I stand up straight. “Oh, Wilder, she’s not married. That’s her mother’s ring she wears.” My mind is reeling, but I hear Mrs. Young speak on the other end, and I try to pay attention. “When you find her, just keep her safe until the worst of it passes, okay? And try to call me if you can. I’m not so sure how long the phones or the power are going to hold out.”
“I’ll take care of her,” I say, and in my heart it feels like a vow.
“Be careful,” Mrs. Young tells me before she ends the call.
I’m in my truck in a flash and turning down my gravel driveway toward town. I have no idea where she is, but my hope is that she’s just sitting in the road and waiting for the storm to pass. There’s a lot of guard rails on the way up here, but you never know. It would be hard for her to run off the road, but not impossible. As all the thoughts on what could have happened to her begin to spiral, I ignore the voice in the back of my mind that’s screaming at me that she's not married.
That hot spark in my chest flares again as I turn down one long snow-covered road and see a break in the guard rail.
“Holy shit.” I jump out of the truck and I’m pelted with snow and ice as the wind cuts right across my face. I push through the overhanging brush as fast as I can and then I see Mrs. Young’s truck leaning against a tree. “Bri!”
My shout is muffled by the storm as I wade through the thick snow and brush to the driver’s side door. The tree is wedged against it, and I see the glass is broken.
“Bri, baby, talk to me!” I shout again, but the storm is too loud.
Ice is seeping into my veins, and it’s not because of the chill; it’s because I’m panicking. I try to take a deep breath as I go around to the passenger door and try the handle. It’s locked, but as my dread builds, I feel a surge of strength as I grab a nearby log and pick it up. I smash it against the passenger door until the glass breaks and I can reach inside to unlock it.
Wrenching the door open, I see Bri slumped against her seatbelt and a trickle of blood running down her face.
“Oh god, no.” I climb in the cab and feel the truck groan at my weight as I cradle her face. “Bri, talk to me. Wake up, baby I’m here.”
Her skin is chilled, and just when I’m about to scream, I hear a tiny, soft groan come from her. My relief that she’s alive is instant, but it’s immediately followed by fear of her being seriously injured. I reach for her seatbelt, and once she’s unclipped, I pull her out of the cab as gently as I can.
The storm has turned brutal, and now I’m beginning to wonder if I’m going to make it back up to my place safely. It’s too far down to go toward town, and we can’t stay here. So I do what I can and hold her close as I hike back up to my truck.