I blow out a breath. “I hate to ask, especially in this weather, but is there any way you could give us a lift to town? My cell phone isn’t picking up a signal out here.”
He turns his head, and in the six or so inch gap of window, his scar comes into view. The skin looks even more mangled up close. A twinge of pain pierces my chest. The pain he must have endured to have such scars.
He turns back to me, then looks over to the kids. When his eyes flick back to mine once again, his jaw tics, and I know he really doesn’t want to help, but there’s no way he can just leave us out here. I’m unsure if it were just me he’d leave me to fend for myself or not, but he won’t do that to kids. I understand his reluctance; he doesn’t know us, and I’m sure he has better things to do than lug around a woman and her two children, but it still irks me that he’s so hesitant. It’s not like I purposely drove my car off the road.
His voice is gruff when he says, “Grab the kids and let’s go,” before standing and walking away.
They’re both shivering when I tell them, “Come on, let’s go get warm.”
Grabbing the key out of the ignition and my purse from the floorboard, I push open the door and the kids follow me out of the truck.
“Wait, Daniel!” I say when he makes a move to walk out of the ditch. I lock my doors, grab Kelsey’s hand, and help both kids out of the ditch. Together, we walk over to the running truck parked behind my Range Rover. The man is already inside waiting for us.
I open the door and let Daniel get in first, then Kelsey, before climbing in after her. I didn’t realize how cold I was until the warm air from the vents hit me. The truck is old, so it has a bench seat with a seat belt in the middle. I grab the strap and hand it to Daniel. “You and Kelsey have to share a seat belt.” I click mine into place once theirs is done.
I glance over at the man and find his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he looks ahead. I swallow and say, “Thank you for the ride. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
A grunt is all I get in return as he puts the truck in gear and slowly starts to creep forward. I fold my hands on top of my purse and look straight out the windshield. I hate the silence, but I’m not going to force the guy to talk if he doesn’t want to. He may not want to accept my gratitude, but this is the second time he’s come to my rescue, and I’m grateful.
Something tugs on my jacket, and I look down to Daniel. He pulls me across Kelsey and tries to whisper, but it’s still loud enough for the man to hear. “What’s wrong with his face, Mom?”
“Daniel,” I scold, and look up at the man in embarrassment. I know he had to have heard the question, but he shows no sign that he did. “You don’t ask questions like that.”
“Sorry,” he mutters sullenly.
“Don’t worry about it. It’s alright,” the man says, keeping his eyes forward and his expression neutral.
“No, it’s not. It’s rude and he shouldn’t have asked it, especially loud enough for you to hear.”
“He’s just curious. At least he’s honest about his curiosity.”
I sit back and think about his statement, remembering back to the old ladies in the market yesterday. From what they said, he doesn’t come to town a lot, so I’m sure when he does, the gossip and whispers start anew. I can’t imagine everything I’m sure he’s overheard. No matter how quiet people are with their opinions and remarks, it’ll still always get back to the recipient of their chatter, especially in a town as small as Cat’s Valley.
“I’m sorry we’re pulling you away from wherever you were going,” I tell him, just to keep some form of conversation going. For some reason, I want him to talk to me.
“I saw your truck from my cabin.”
“Oh,” I remark. “I didn’t see it from the road when I was looking for houses.”
“It’s hard to see from the road with all the trees, especially when you’ve got snow blowing in your face.”
It turns quiet, then I tell him, even though he never asked, “Something ran out in front of us. I know better than to slam on the brakes in the snow, but I did it to avoid the animal before I realized what I was doing.”
“Probably a fox. We get them out here a lot during the winter.”
“Mom.” Another tug on my jacket has me looking down at Daniel again. “I gotta go pee.”
I look over at the man, then back at Daniel. “Can you wait a bit longer? We have to go slower than normal, but we’ll be there soon.”
All of a sudden, the truck stops, and the man lets out a deep sigh. I’m just about to tell him that Daniel will be fine until we get to town when he climbs from the truck. I look out the windshield and realize he didn’t stop for Daniel, but because a tree’s fallen across the road, blocking our path. The man walks to the tree, looks at it for a moment, then comes back to the truck.
He hammers his hand on the steering wheel once, mutters a curse under his breath, then looks over at me and mumbles an apology for cursing in front of the kids.
“I can’t move it and that’s the only road that leads to town, unless we want to go up the mountain and around, which will take hours in this weather, and there’s no guarantee we’ll make it.”
I look from the tree in the road to him, then down to the kids and back to the tree. I talk to the windshield when I say, “I’m sorry.” I bring my eyes to him. “Do you know Mrs. Myers? Could you take us to her place, and I’ll call someone in town when the roads clear up and the tree’s gone?”
His stormy eyes face me. “No,” he says bluntly. “I’m surprised you even made it down the mountain in this weather.”