Page 4 of My Starry Valentine

The last stretch proves demanding as the wind picks up, whipping around me like a mini frosted tornado. My long brown locks smack against my cheeks, and I paw back the tresses with my gloves to see my way to the finish line.

Shards of wind-borne ice blast my cheeks, the frantic gusts pushing me into the vehicle. I quickly remove my snow-encrusted gear and throw it in the back. Shivering and struggling with painfully numb fingers, I fasten my skis in place on the roof rack.

When I climb into my car and turn the key, massive tremors rock my core. I shiver in the driver’s seat, frantically blowing warm air into my cupped hands as the car heater goes from cold to lukewarm and finally deliciously toasty.

The white accumulation on the window remains fresh and unpacked, so I don’t have to scrape my windshield and windows. Instead, I turn on the wipers, letting the swish-swish restore my visibility. Rolling down the windows clears more of the white blur.

Putting the vehicle into four-wheel drive, I back up tentatively before inching forward and starting my descent along the forest service road toward the quaint alpine town of Ouray.Snowflakes swirl frantically around the car, smashing into my windshield and creating a strange gravity-less feeling. My eyes wander, following individual snowflake trails, and I squint hard, trying to make out road markers, signs, or other indicators I’m on the correct route.

The white whirlwind blinds me with its brightness still half-lit by brazen sunshine as shadows from the storm creep over my vehicle. My heart pounds in my chest, and I turn the radio down with shaking hands, uncertain where I’m at or where to go. My throat thickens as I ease my foot onto the brake pedal, and the tires slide and slip, struggling for purchase. The brakes automatically pump under my foot, announcing the treacherous slipperiness of the driving conditions.

Fortunately, I’ve driven on enough ski and snowshoeing trips to understand the basics of safe winter driving. It’s certainly not something I learned growing up in the California Bay Area. But despite experience, the current conditions are what I’d term undrivable. According to the last forecast I saw, these driving conditions will only get worse. So time is of the essence for getting to Montrose.

Pumping my brakes to come to a gentle stop, I program my navigation system for the fastest route into town, feeling a little stupid about the whole thing. After all, Ouray boasts less than one thousand residents. It shouldn’t be difficult to navigate its tiny network of roads. But visibility’s approaching zero as the angry wind howls around my vehicle.

I pray under my breath as I watch the massive snowflakes pelt the car and pile up on the hood. I wonder how Naomi and her rescuers are faring.

Taking a deep breath, I put my car into drive again and move forward slowly, reminding myself that any progress is better than no progress. “You’ve got this, Luna.” I remember the insane driving conditions I experienced while living and working inBaker, Nevada, outside my favorite national park, Great Basin, last spring. Still, nothing tops this ivory nightmare.

Suddenly, the pale, twisting flakes give way to a large, dark object, and I hit the brakes reflexively despite knowing better. Everything happens too fast. The wheels lock up despite four-wheel drive, and the vehicle spins around backward. I slide slowly but sickeningly, dropping down with a nauseating thud over the embankment, facing the wrong direction. The windshield wipers swish-swish as I clutch my chest, trying to catch my breath and slow my pounding pulse.

At first, my mind refuses to register the situation. Instead, I shift into drive, trying to climb out of the ditch. The disheartening sound of rubber on slick ice greets me as my wheels polish the surface below them smooth, unable to achieve friction. I press my foot to the metal again and again, countless times, driven by panic…until logic sinks in. “You’re stuck, Luna. Like stuck stuck.”

Sitting there shaking, I grab my purse on the passenger seat next to me, my hands and arms still trembling with adrenaline. Locating my cell phone, I pull it out to a screen with no bars. Fear transforms into anger as I pound the steering wheel and dash, screaming in frustration. Because of the events earlier with Naomi, I have less than no energy left, finally laying my head on the steering wheel and sobbing quietly.

I have no idea how long I do this. But snow buries my car, and my windows fog over from my breathing. Suddenly, a little voice inside my head commands, “Go up top for a signal. Get help.”

Usually, I’m not one to listen to disembodied commands. But looking around, I admit I can’t stay here any longer. If I do, I’m going to freeze to death. So, I jump out of my vehicle, slamming the door behind me. Wading through snow above my knees, I scramble up the embankment my car toppled down like anearthworm crawling on a wet sidewalk. It’s not a pretty sight, but the exertion warms me quickly. Cresting the top of the trench, I let out a desperate cry as a silent world of infinite white greets me.

Snowflakes pile on my head, and my tears freeze on my cheeks as I search for landmarks or indicators of where I am. Looking abjectly at my phone, I still see no signal. The tiny, stupid voice was wrong. I let out another scream soaked in frustration. If I live a hundred years, I never want to see Ouray again.

Suddenly, in the distance, I hear engine noises and snow crunching beneath tires. It’s faint but consistent. Holding my breath to stop my noisy panting, I strain my ears, listening again. It’s still there. Only a little louder now.

My breath rattles in my throat. “Oh, please. Oh, please.” I don’t even know what I’m begging for because I’m unsure what I hear. All I know is any noise is better than the raging swirl of this blizzard. And then, I see it—a snow-crusted, dark gray, lifted, Jeep Wrangler inching its way in my direction.

Letting out a cry of joy, I wave my hands frantically in the air, desperate to get the driver’s attention.

Chapter Three

LEDGER

The petite feminine form in the road draws the breath from my chest and makes my throat thick and tight. Scanning the area around her, I don’t see any cars.Where did she come from?My brain taunts me, revisiting the earlier conversation with Chuck.She dropped from the sky…I frown.Whatever.

The woman wears an olive drab and rose pink-lined Columbia jacket with brown and gray fur trimming the hood, a pair of black ski pants, and a pair of gray, fur-trimmed Sorel snow boots that stop two inches below her knees.

Her silky, curly brown locks reach to her middle back, whipping around thanks to her frantic movements and the wild gusts from the blizzard. Once I reach her, stopping carefully and rolling down my window, the sight of her face socks me hard in the chest and the gut.

My eyes meet hers like a physical collision, a sharp exhale escaping my lips. I notice with unexpected satisfaction the puff of air that leaves her mouth, too. The feeling is akin to static electricity, shocking my hand as I touch a doorknob after walking over thick carpet. Only soul-shaking and visceral.

Her brows jump in her forehead, and her eyes round. She feels it, too. And it isn’t just her getting a load of my bad side. Habit has made me scrupulous about how to hold my head to spare people that visual. But I can’t hide in plain sight like this forever, which makes whatever alchemical reaction going on between us a problem. A big, big problem.

Nevertheless, I absorb her impossible beauty, instantly breathless and stunned that someone like her exists. Suddenly, my experience on this planet feels worthwhile, though I know she can never be mine. Still, sharing the same air space is something—a pretty impressive something that will stick with me for a long time.

I can’t help myself, smiling like an idiot as my eyes glide down her oval, symmetrical face. They dance over her sassy, slightly upturned nose and settle on her full, rich, rose-colored lips.

Did I say static electricity before? No, this is lightning, and I’ll never be the same.

“Thank God!” she exclaims, her face beaming, and I’m about to be a believer if things keep up this way. At a bare minimum, I’m staring at an angel…a glowing one with an ear-to-ear grin and a full set of pearl-white teeth. “You are the most beautiful sight I’ve seen all day!” She exclaims enthusiastically.

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