Once back in the house, the chili was done so I plopped on the couch and flipped through some channels. But my mind was still in the fishing shack with the girl I couldn’t have. The words made me want her more.
I stopped on a local channel where an alert banner crawled across the bottom of the screen as meteorologist Matt Kirkle stood in front of a weather map. “We apologize for interrupting regular programming. There’s a severe weather watch in the area ahead of the forecasted one to three inches of snow tonight. We’ve got some unexpected freezing rain that’s started in outlying areas, and the roads are becoming treacherous.”
A pounding in my temples as visions of Fern maneuvering the icy highway shot in full force. How could I have been stupid enough to turn off the alerts on my phone?
“We’re advising no travel in the rural areas outside of Stillwater. It’s getting dangerous out there, folks. Stay safe and stay home.”
I dialed her number to hear ringing as her phone sat on the coffee table. Shit.
Five minutes later, I was creeping down the highway. The roads were bad, but I made my way slowly into town and to the craft store. This was Minnesota. It wasn’t uncommon for ice to arrive before a little snow, but I hadn’t seen a layer this thick in some time.
The past and the present swarmed together as a tightness in my center formed at the thought of her being in trouble and me not getting to her in time.
The cabin was a good twenty minutes from town, but it took me closer to fifty to get there with no sight of Fern. I thought that was good until I went through every aisle in the store, and she wasn’t there. I asked the woman at the cash register to page her, but no response.
When I described Fern, she gave me a warm smile, indicating I’d given an overly in-depth description with the words beautiful and special seeming to shoot out of my mouth too frequently. I left my number in case she arrived and nearly begged to her call me if she did.
I dialed the landline at my cabin with no answer as I tried to control the panic that was raging in me like a storm. My truck dashboard said the temp was fifteen degrees, again normal for February, but not if you were stuck somewhere because of ice.
Highway 370 weaved around curves with forests on both sides and could be tricky even in good weather conditions. The visibility was getting worse as the snow picked up, and my eyes searched more frantically as the seconds ticked by. Images of her alone and scared in a strange place was strangling me. Please God, let me find her.
Six miles later, there was a kick in my chest when a piece of the guardrail along the highway was missing. I slowed to a stop and forgot to breathe when I saw her car. It had gone down a steep, wooded ravine and run into a tree, which was a good thing as a lake was just beyond where she was.
I slid my way down to her and could see the car had hit the tree with force, as the hood was wrinkled and pushed back nearly to the windshield. When I finally reached the driver’s door, I looked inside to see her behind the wheel, with her face in her hands. I tapped on the window, and she jumped, looking over with tears streaming down her cheeks.
I tried to open the door, but it was jammed. I yanked hard, and it opened halfway as she wiped her face. “Gabe.”
I shot her a calm grin. “Please tell me you at least grabbed us the pizza?”
She cracked a little smile.
“Give me your hand.”
“I can’t get out. My legs are stuck under the dash.”
Her teeth were chattering. I took off my coat and wrapped it around her shoulders before leaning down to take a look. It was smashed down pretty good. “This is not a big deal, really kind of a pussy accident if I do say so myself.”
Her giggle wrapped around me.
“Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to push like hell on the dash, and the second you can, pull your legs out. You ready?”
She nodded, and the fear in her eyes grabbed me by the throat.
“Here we go.”
I pushed up on the dash with all my might, very aware of the colorful words shooting out of me. The tree holding the car let out a loud crack, and we were both aware that if the tree fell, the car would roll into the lake.
Her eyes were wide. “What if the tree breaks?—”
“I think I can get it in one more push.”
Her tears broke my heart.
“I’ve got this. I promise.”
She nodded, and I pushed up. A few seconds later, she pulled her feet free as breaking wood echoed around us.
“I’ve got you.” I helped her stand, “It’s steep. You get on my back, and I’ll get us out of here.”
