“Last time the snow fell this hard here, residents were stuck indoors for months.”
My jaw is on the floor. “Months?”
“Until March.”
“March?”My eyes have now joined my jaw. They live on the ground. I thought the only true fight we’d have is against boredom, but if we’re here past the New Year…
I picture my brothers going mad.
I picture Sulli terribly homesick.
And my cats…
They’re with Audrey.My sister is taking good care of them, but I worry. It’s not like I can easily call her and ask how they’re doing. What if one is sick? What if something happens while I’m away?
My maternal concern to six furry children escalates to new heights. Worse even: we don’t have enough food for seventeen people forthatlong.
I find my voice. “How did we not prepare for this?”
“We couldn’t have known,” Thatcher says strongly.
“I feel like a straight-A student who forgot to do her homework for an entire year,” I say aloud. “There’s precedent for snowstorms in this area, apparently.”
“This isn’t an annual occurrence here,” Akara tells me. “It’s only happened twice in the last thirty years.” He grabs the doorknob, about to leave. “One more thing.” His eyes are on mine. “I had to tell your dad about Beckett.”
My stomach somersaults, and I down another gulp of sharp whiskey. “Which part?” I lick the liquor off my lips. “That he wants a helicopter to fly him out of here? Or that we forced him on this trip because of his cocaine use?”
Akara gives me an apologetic wince. “Both.”
Merde.I fist the neck of the bottle.
“He didn’t seem surprised about either,” Akara says. “But with your dad…”
“It’s hard to tell,” I nod.
My incredibly intelligent father vaults his emotions like secrets inside Fort Knox. If he were shocked, he most likely wouldn’t let Akara know. It’s entirely possible that my dad and mom sniffed out the situation since Beckett took off dance for Scotland.
Which is a rarity in itself.
I can’t predict what they’ll do once Beckett goes home, but I feel like I’ve thrown him in boiling hot water when I only intended a light simmer to start.
Akara continues, “Connor said if things get serious, they can send a rescue team. But it’s not advisable unless someone’s safety is at risk. Other people need those resources, and I consulted with Jack. He said a helicopter picking up rich white kids stuck in a million-dollar house would be bad publicity.”
Those headlines and the fallout could destroy Beckett’s career more than a couple absent weeks from ballet. My brother has been banking on the skies to clear, not wanting to wait for road transportation. But the helicopter scenario is solidly down the drain.
“You have to tell Beckett,” I say. “I can’t do it. He won’t want to hear it from me.”
Akara agrees and then turns to Thatcher. “The snow is accumulating, and today might be the only time we can exit the door without having to shovel our way out. Anyone who needs to use the sat-phone, needs to use ittoday.”
Thatcher glances at the door.
Akara adds, “I’ve already spoken to your brother.”
“What?”
“He was my second call.” Akara pushes back his wet hair, visibly shivering. I lean towards him and outstretch the bottle of whiskey. He’s not exactly on-duty while we’re in a secure house, so he takes the bottle with a quick, “Thanks.” And downs a large gulp. “Banks is fine. He doesn’t want either of you to go call him.”
Thatcher glares at the ceiling, then rolls his eyes.