Page 31 of Waitress at the Shadow Ridge Inn
“Good night, Casey.”
11
Only once Iwas on the main road did I fully exhale. I’d become adept at holding everything inside and keeping up pretenses, but eventually, it had to come out. Tonight had pushed me beyond my limits.
The tears I had been holding at bay could no longer be contained. A hot drop spilled over my lashes, the first of many. I swiped at them with the back of my hand when my vision began to blur.
Damn Rose for setting me up tonight.
Damn Mike and his childish pranks.
Damn Steve for his caring and kindness.
And damn me and my triggers and the stalking bastard who had put me in this position to begin with.
I was better than this. Stronger. At least, I used to be.
My body and soul were weary; my mind whirred with regret. I was tired of running. Tired of living in fear. Tired of allowing myself to feel like a victim.
I turned onto the mountain road that would lead me back to my little cottage. Big, heavy clouds were moving in, preceding the powerful front forecasted to bring an end to the string of abnormally warm and beautiful weather. The canopy of trees on either side of the road kept the increasingly limited moonlight at bay. To make matters worse, a thick, rolling fog was moving over the ground, making it hard to see exactly where the road was. A mist formed on my windshield as I ascended into the cooler air, forcing me to turn on my wipers. I slowed even more, my headlights barely making a dent in the fog and inky blackness. The road I’d traveled nearly every day for more than a month suddenly appeared as foreign as if I’d never been on it. It was disorienting. I wasn’t even sure where I was.
I shivered and gripped the wheel until my knuckles turned white, holding the panic at bay. More bad memories came to the surface. It had been suffocatingly dark and foggy that night too. Damp with a charge in the air and the scent of rain and fallen leaves. The sense of impending doom was nearly overwhelming.
Keep your head. It’s just a little fog. You’ve driven in far worse and on more remote stretches than this. Hell, you learned to drive in the middle of winter with lake-effect snow. This is nothing.
I reached for the radio, thinking some music might help. I didn’t see the large buck until it was nearly too late. One moment, nothing but fog and darkness had lain ahead. The next, a huge fourteen-point male was standing in the middle of the road, staring me right in the eyes.
I stomped both feet on the brakes at the same time I cut the wheel hard to the right. With no shoulder, the car skidded off the road, the front wheels dipping down at a sharp angle. Just as I thought I’d be making an express trip back down the mountain in the worst way possible, a massive oak stopped any further forward progress.
The impact was substantial enough to deploy the driver’s airbag. I was treated to a violently erupting nylon pillow hitting me hard in the face and snapping me backward with great force. And …ow.
While the bag deflated, I took deep gulps of chemically scented air and tried to gather my wits. I was shaking like a leaf, and I felt like I’d taken a good beating, but nothing seemed to be broken. With great care, I was able to extract my legs from the now-mangled front end and crawl out the driver’s window.
I walked gingerly around the car to survey the damage. The back half appeared unscathed, but the front had crumpled like an accordion, particularly on the passenger side. My already-low spirits plummeted further. Driving away from this wasn’t likely. For the hell of it, I crawled back into the driver’s seat and tried to turn the engine over anyway.
It didn’t work.
“Any accident you can walk away from is a good one,” I mumbled, echoing the words my father had said to me after my first fender bender.
I supposed there was wisdom in that, but it was hard to find muchgoodin my current situation. Stuck in the middle of nowhere with the temperature dropping rapidly and an approaching storm, my ribs and head aching, didn’t inspire positivity.
I turned on the interior lights and groped around for my phone without success. Because of the damage, I could only reach so far. It had been on the passenger seat. Now, it was probably in the black void beneath the glove compartment, which was currently also in the passenger seat.
Awesome.
I hauled myself out of the vehicle again. Massive quantities of ibuprofen and Epsom salts were definitely in my future.
The passenger door wouldn’t open, and no amount of heaving, yanking, or pulling on my part changed that.
I exhaled heavily and looked up toward the sky. “What else could go wrong?”
I shouldn’t have asked. The clouds chose that moment to open up. Big, heavy drops of icy-cold rain hit my face like buckshot, soaking me to the skin almost instantly.
I scrambled into the backseat as fast as my aching limbs would allow. My bruised knee landed on something hard—my phone!—and for a moment, I thought the universe was taking pity on me. Then, I powered it up and discovered I was in a dead zone.
The deluge of rain was deafening. I was chilled to the bone, and my body was shaking hard enough to make me the human equivalent of a jackhammer. Curling myself into a ball, I huddled into the corner and considered my options. There weren’t many. Stay here until conditions improved or get out, find the road, and start walking.
I looked out the window and saw nothing but blackness. No lights, no landscape in the distance that would provide a clue as to where I was. I could be one mile away from my cottage or five.
