Page 27 of Cut Off from Sky and Earth
“Oh, I wasn’t ... I’m not planning to go anywhere, so I don’t really have a need to monitor the weather,” I tell her.
“Right. You’re here to write.” Alex’s tone suggests this isn’t true.
I frown. “Right.”
Alex walks past me to the small writing desk and peers at the words on my screen, making no effort to hide the fact that she’s reading my manuscript.
What the hell?
I push past her and close the laptop lid. “Hey! I don’t let people read my works in progress.” I shake with anger at the violation. I take a few seconds to breathe and regain control before continuing. “Not to be rude, but aside from letting me know that a storm’s coming, why are you here?”
“It’s not just any storm. It’s an enormous storm. They’re saying it’ll be at least as bad as the Storm of the Century.”
I look at her blankly.
“The Storm of the Century? March of 1993?”
I laugh. “I wasn’t even born yet.”
“I was ten. We got a foot and a half of snow. No school for almost a week.” At the memory, her mouth relaxes—not into a smile exactly, more like a less severe frown.
“It’ll be rain here, though, right? This storm, I mean.”
“Don’t be so sure. That superstorm in 1993 dumped two-and-a-half feet of snow here in the mountains. And the temperature dipped down to negative twelve.”
I stare at her. She mistakes my mounting anxiety for disbelief.
“I looked it up,” she assures me.
“Do they plow up here?”
She barks out a laugh. “No.”
“But the roads will clear by the time Tristan needs to come and get me next weekend. Right?”
Alex shrugs. “We have more immediate concerns than your departure.”
“Like what?”
“You’ve never lived in the country, have you?”
I flush and shake my head, feeling foolish. “No.”
“We could lose power. We likely will lose power. The unplowed roads will be impassable. There’s a good chance the pipes will freeze.”
I process this. “Does that mean we won’t have refrigeration or running water?” My face and hands tingle. A sign of an impending panic attack.
“It’s a possibility.”
I have to get this woman out of here before I melt down in front of her. I slow my too-fast breathing and focus on the feeling of the cold, hard floor under my thick wool socks in an effort to ground myself.
She cocks her head to the side like a bird and watches me with concern.
I take another breath and croak, “How likely is it that this storm will hit us?”
“There’s no question. It’s bearing straight down on us. The wind’s already picked up. The storm is moving faster than the models predicted. The front edge will be here by this evening and we’re in for a wild ride overnight. Make sure all the windows are shuttered and the doors are locked. You have flashlights and candles and more than enough wood to make fires in case the electricity goes out. How are you on food?”
“I’m all set. Thanks for checking on me. But I really do need to get back to my manuscript, especially if I’m going to lose power and won’t be able to charge my laptop.” I flash a shaky smile and hope she gets the hint.
