Page 2 of Winter
Snowfall #1
Inca pulledher coat around her tighter as she ran from the truck to the inviting warmth of the coffee shop. The squall, which had blown in from the Sound overnight, brought with it searing cold winds and fine rain which invaded clothing relentlessly. The door blew open just as Inca reached it and she dived in, grateful that it pulsed with heat—someone had turned up the heating way too high—thank God,she thought—and smiled at Nancy behind the counter.
“Hey kiddo.” Her adoptive mother offered her a towel to dry her hair. “How goes things?”
It had beentwo days since the attack in the city parking lot, and although Inca had been thoroughly interrogated by Scarlett, she’d also sworn her to secrecy.
“I just want to forget it. And the fewer people who know, the better. I don’t want Tyler and Nancy to worry.”
Scarlett hadn’t been happy, but something in Inca’s face had made her agree.
Now Inca smiledat her mom. “Good, thanks.”
Nancy watched her hang her coat up. “Really?”
Inca didn’t answer her for a moment and, when she turned back to Nancy, her voice was strained. “I’m fine, Nancy.”
But she knew she couldn’t keep the truth from Nancy for long—especially after last night, when, tormented by nightmares, Inca had suffered a full-blown panic attack and called her adoptive mother at three a.m., sobbing and incoherent.
Inca waited until the teahouse was empty, then asked Nancy to sit down with her. In a halting voice, she told her what had happened.
Inca had spent her day off in Seattle, happily avoiding the rain by ducking in and out of bookshops and coffee shops.Busman’s holiday,she grinned to herself, trying not to compare this coffee house with her own small teahouse in the small town just outside Seattle. Overlooking the Bay, the little Japanese-influenced gathering place had been Inca’s dream when she was studying business at college. With the help of Nancy and Tyler, she’d opened it five years previously, not knowing what the people of small-town America would think; the Sakura teahouse was about as far from Starbucks as they could imagine but they loved it.
Even the grizzled old mountain men came to drink her specialist brews and chat with their friends. Inca lived in the small apartment above the teahouse but whenever she had a day off, she would escape, either to hike along mountain trails or into the city to find new reading material.
Two days ago had been the latter. She’d finished the pile of books on her nightstand and, although there was still a couple of other piles of unread books in her living room, she told herself there was always a good reason to buy more. Books were her drug of choice. Hours of browsing and reading relaxed her into an almost soporific state and she simply did not consider the fact that, by the time she left the bookstore and headed back to the parking garage, it was already dark outside.
She didn’t hear him behind her until the last second and then, as her assailant grabbed her, she went into survival mode. Adrenaline flooded her system and she fought back as he attempted to wrestle her to the ground. Inca Sardee was no pushover, despite her diminutive height of five foot two inches. She’d studied self-defense martial arts and she used her body to unbalance her attacker, elbowing him rapidly and firmly in the solar plexus, then turning and ramming her thumbs into his eyes. The attacker, a young guy with dirty blond hair and a pock-marked face, yelped and staggered away, cussing her out. Inca quickly got into her car and banged down the locks.
She drove out of the parking garage and it wasn’t until much later, at home, that she began to feel the post-traumatic effects. She practiced deep breathing to calm down. She tried to stop her body trembling. She thought it had worked until the moment, almost an entire day later, she awoke screaming at 3 a.m. and crawled downstairs to call Nancy.
Nancy hadher hand on her chest, her face pale. “Oh, good grief, Inca … why didn’t you tell me?”
Inca looked guilty. “I didn’t want you to worry. I’m fine. Not even a scratch.”
Nancy looked disapproving. “Have you told Olly?”
Olly Rosenbaum was the town’s police chief and Inca’s (very amicable) ex-boyfriend. Inca shrugged. Although she and Olly were still close friends, she still felt the pain of the break-up initiated by Olly a few months ago.
“It’s not that I don’t love you,” he’d said gently, “it’s just … I think we both need more than just being good friends. But you are my best friend, Inca; you always will be.”
And he’d kept true to his word; he still came by the teahouse every day and they hung out all the time. Inca hated to admit it, but, in fact, once the constraint of a “relationship’ had been removed from them, they seemed closer than ever.
She shook her head now. “Olly has enough to do, and it was no big deal. I told Knox yesterday, and he agreed with me.”
Knox Westerwick was the town’s deputy chief of police and local lothario. Inca thought he was funny, but she also knew to keep well away from his type. Knox never gave up though, and Inca had warmed to him lately. Underneath all the bullshit, he was a decent guy—not that she’d ever let him near her heart—or her bed.
“You toldKnoxthat?” Nancy’s voice was hard, and Inca looked at her curiously.
“What’s up, Nance? You and Knox have a fight?”
“Not exactly. I just gave him the Mom Speech.”
Inca giggled, feeling her mood lift. “The‘Mom’Speech?”
Nancy swatted her with a towel. “Less of your sass, Inca. Seriously though, kiddo, I got your back. It’s what happens when your kid calls you at three in the morning in tears.”
Inca’s smile faded. “Sorry about that. I guess I just panicked.”
