Page 15 of Truth or More Truth
Within minutes, the snow starts falling more heavily, and it begins accumulating along the sides of the road.
“Seriously, Bobby, what are we going to do?”
“Well, the snow’s not piling up on the road yet, so we’re okay for now.”
“But we won’t be for long.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
I grip the steering wheel tighter. “I don’t like this.”
“We can stop if you want to,” he says.
“But it’s only four o’clock in the afternoon. And we need to get to Arkansas.” I can hear the anxiety in my voice.
“We don’t have to get there today,” he says soothingly. Since when is Bobby Jacobs soothing? “And this snow isn’t stopping anytime soon.”
As if on cue, the snowfall increases to where I can’t see more than twenty feet in front of the car. I turn on my hazard lights and slow down, but I’m not sure that’s what I’m supposed to do. What if the people behind me can’t see me and are driving the speed limit? My heart begins to race.
“I don’t know what to do. I’ve never really driven in snow. Not like this—only in the city, with the roads cleared.”
Bobby’s warm hand closes over one of mine on the steering wheel, and heat radiates up my arm at the contact. I focus on his hand for a moment before shifting my attention back to the road.
“Are you scared?” he asks.
I nod.
He squeezes my hand. “We’re going to pull off at the next exit, okay? I’ll guide you.”
“O-okay.”
“We can do this.” He removes his hand from mine, and I suddenly feel cold, even with the car’s heater going full blast.
“How many miles, you think?” I ask.
“Just a few more.”
“Are you sure about that, or are you trying to make me feel better, since I have your life in my hands?”
“Both. We haven’t passed an exit since we heard that weather report a few minutes ago, and there’s an exit about every ten miles.”
“What if there’s not a motel at the next exit?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” He’s silent for a few seconds before he asks, “How do you make a handkerchief dance?”
I snort before I can stop it. “What?”
“I’m telling you a joke to help you not be scared. How do you make a handkerchief dance?”
I shake my head, a smile on my face. “I don’t know. How?”
“You put a little boogie in it.”
I risk a quick glance over at him. He’s giving me the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on him, and holy moly if that man doesn’t have a dimple in his left cheek.Where has that been hiding?I want to poke my finger in it, but instead I burst into laughter, and he joins me.
“Got any more of those up your sleeve?” I ask.
“How do you scare a bee?”
