Page 10 of Say It Isn't Snow
“Hey,” she answers on the second ring, sounding frazzled. “I’ve been trying to call you. Did you make it to the cabin?”
“Yeah, I got in a little over an hour ago,” I say.
“Oh good.” She sighs with relief. “I was worried about you on those tight roads.”
“They’re a bitch to maneuver, but I did it. It’s snowing here. Cell service is getting spotty. I guess it’s because it’s really coming down out there now.”
“I know. It’s snowing everywhere,” she replies. “There’s a huge storm system moving in that’s colliding with the nor’easter coming up the coastline. The news is calling it the blizzard of the decade.”
I pause my organization of mulling spices. “Didn’t they call the back to back super snowstorms last year the blizzard of the decade?”
“This one’s going to set even bigger snowfall records,” she says.
I glance out the window, trying to make out the view I admired earlier. I can barely see past the hot tub on the porch to the stone fire pit in the yard. My thoughts stray to the intense weather all over that continues to set unprecedented records as our planet warms. Extreme snowstorms, devastating flooding, unbelievably powerful hurricanes, and the threat of tornadoes all wreaking havoc.
“So where are you right now? Did you have to stop at a hotel for the night?” I ask.
“Worse, I never made it out of town,” she answers miserably. “I’m sorry. Dad called me and told me not to drive anywhere.”
“You’re not on the road, so that makes me feel better.”
Disappointment lingers. It’s not her fault, but the unexpected change in plans rouses my anxiety. Looks like I’ll be spending the weekend by myself.
“What about you? This is so not how I wanted our girls’ weekend to go. I feel awful.”
“I know. But maybe if the storm passes quickly, you’ll still make it up here,” I suggest hopefully.
“I’ll be there in a heartbeat. You’d better send me regular updates. Promise me you’ll stay put and relax, okay?” Layla prompts.
“I’m bummed you aren’t here, but I’ll still make the best of my solo retreat,” I swear with a smile. “In fact, I’m already on it. I’m going to make mulled wine and I brought books to read.”
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. You won’t be totally alone.”
My grin falls. “What? Why?”
“Because—”
The line dips in and out, garbling her voice. Then the call drops. I frown at my phone and set it aside with a sigh. Maybe she meant that the neighbor who owns the farm nearby will be around if I want some company.
Before I decide what to whip up, a rustling sounds at the side of the cabin. I freeze, listening carefully. It moves onto the porch.
“A bear?” I whisper in disbelief. “What the fuck? Shouldn’t they be hibernating?”
It can’t get in, right?
Something heavy scrapes the floorboards on the porch. Shit. I wish I still had Layla on the phone, at the very least for some moral support.
I grab the closest thing I have—a rolling pin and the bowl to my standing mixer—to make enough noise to scare it off.
“Okay, it’s chill. You’re fine. You can do this.”
Taking a breath to strengthen my courage, I peek through the door. With the heavy snowfall and how dark it is now, it’s hard to make out the bulky shape edging closer. It’s halfway to the door.
Oh, hell. It’s now or never.
Opening the door a crack, I shriek as loud as I can and clang the rolling pin against the metal bowl.
The shape startles with a very human bellow.
