br />
by Leigh Andrade
Copyright 2011 Leigh Andrade
Cover Art by Fena Lee
CAROL GRUMBLED UNDER HER breath as she stepped out of the warm house and into the snow filled yard. The tinkly notes of happy Christmas music drifted out the front door and into the stark night. Even with the faint, cheerful sounds reaching her ears, she found herself shivering as she stared into the black.
'Way too gloomy for Christmas,' Carol thought to herself. She stood there silently, her brow furrowed. Large, clump-like snowflakes fell steadily, covering the shoulders of her red wool coat in a fine white dusting. Finally, with a tired shrug, she adjusted her knit toque with mittened hands - sighed - and turned back to the open door.
Reaching past the wooden door and into the brightly lit hall, Carol picked up a heavy, misshapen bag, the brown fabric faded and worn from years of use. She swung the thick handles over her shoulder, grunting under the sudden weight and stepped out into the frozen night.
"Please ma'am, wouldn't it be better to call Rick? He could deliver it instead." Evangeline, her petite and normally shy housekeeper, stood in the doorway and wrung her hands in worry and agitation. She shivered, and pulled her cable-knit green sweater tight around her slight body.
Carol shook her head without turning, and continued toward the lone vehicle parked in front of the squat, stone-walled home. "There's not enough time. Nick will be too far away by then. I'll take the quad; I should be able to catch up. Rick has his own work to do." Dropping the bag onto the rear rack of the cherry red, bike-like vehicle, she began tying it down with a long length of white nylon rope.
Rick, her husband's very serious and highly effective personal assistant, was still hard at work on the shop floor. For the last several weeks their team had been battling a looming deadline, and with Nick on the road, it fell to him to keep the operation running smoothly. Pulling Rick away to deliver the forgotten bag would cost too much precious time. It was up to her.
The bag finally secure, Carol climbed onto the quad's narrow seat and started the motor, her movements brisk and confident. With a parting wave to the small girl still standing in the doorway, she sped out into the chill darkness.
The modest stone house disappeared within moments, leaving Carol alone in the frigid winter night. The darkness felt oppressive and absolute. Heavy clouds reached across the sky, blocking the twinkling stars and bluish glow of the moon. Carol shivered as she strained to see ahead, the quad's weak headlamps the only available light on the snow covered, isolated road. Densely grown pine and spruce trees loomed silently over the narrow track, giving her the uneasy feeling of being watched by unseen eyes. Gritting her teeth against the frozen wind and her own fears, she steered the quad onward.
Her window of opportunity was a narrow one. Nick's usual business trip involved a short pit stop at the nearest small village, and she was counting on her husband sticking to his familiar routine. If Carol could catch him before he moved on, she could give him the forgotten bag and be back at home in time to catch the evening news. Easy.
Nick wasn't usually so forgetful, but he was very focused, especially when it came to his work. A troublesome production line could keep him occupied for weeks, forgoing sleep and regular meals in order to solve the problem. This business trip, the biggest and most important of the year, had consumed him of late and the bag currently strapped behind her was just one in a long line of things he had let slide in the last few days. But its contents were important, and she couldn't let it be. They were in this business together and she cared about its success. So, late night emergency delivery it is.
As the miles passed Carol fell into a meditative state, lulled by the monotonous whine of the tiny motor and the unending stretch of white landscape ahead. She blinked slowly, fighting to stay alert against the black night. But the lull was short lived. The sudden appearance of something huge and dark stretching across the road had her cursing in a frantic attempt to stop the quad before hitting the blockade.
"Holy..." Carol breathed. The front wheels had come to a stop in a cloud of thrown snow, just inches from the roadblock. She fought to remove her stiff, shaking fingers from the handlebars, turned off the motor and stepped down onto the hard packed snow. She stood silently for several moments, her hand pressed against her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. Taking several, steadying breaths, she turned toward whatever it was that had just shaved years off her life.
It was a tree, specifically the fallen, rotted trunk of a long dead pine. Its branches, stripped mostly bare of needles, created a jagged wall reaching up toward the cloudy sky. The length covered the full width of the road, cutting Carol off from the twinkling lights of the small town just barely visible ahead.
"Dammit!" She yelled aloud, kicking the frozen tree with her heavy boot. Tiny bark chips drifted lazily from the impact and landed on the sugary snow, seemingly mocking her predicament. She was so close!
"Now what?" Carol whispered, casting a desperate look about her. Her heart sank as she considered her options; the only other road into town was miles away, and she would definitely miss her husband if she tried to find it. Her eyes fell on the worn, brown bag sitting alone on the rear metal rack. She couldn't afford to fail, this was just too important.
Carol nodded to herself and turned back toward the obstacle with renewed determination. She needed a plan, and fast; the hope of catching up with Nick was fading with each passing moment. Tucking an errant lock of greying hair back under her toque, she hiked toward one end of the dead tree.
The side of the road was steep, the snow covered bank tilting sharply upward just beyond the top branches of the fallen tree. The slope continued around it, a mostly clear path to the other side of the blocked road. Crawling up the bank, trying to use the fragile dead branches for purchase, Carol tested the possible route with her boots. The snow felt solid, not likely to sink or cave under the quad's weight. "I wish," she muttered to herself, slightly breathless from the climb, "that man had a cellphone. It would be so simple. I could be enjoying a quiet night at home." Looking up, she addressed the starless night. "Embrace the times, Nick!"
Stepping back onto level ground, Carol considered her admittedly bad idea. The angle of the slope worried her a bit, but she felt she could risk it; trying to find that other road into town at this point would render the whole trip a pointless mess.
Carol jogged back to the quad, swinging one leg over the seat and restarting the motor in one smooth movement. She backed away slowly and turned toward the head of the tree. Accelerating steadily, she aimed at the steep roadside and said a quick prayer.
With a jerk and a gasp, the world tipped crazily to the right. Carol bounced on the seat wildly as she steered around the tree, just barely missing the topmost branches. Thankfully, the trip was brief. With a final jolt, the quad came to a sudden shuddering stop that jarred her from tailbone to teeth, the tree now a dark hulk behind her.
Carol glanced back at the tree, then ahead at the clear expanse of road, a wide grin stretching across her frozen face. Feeling giddy at her success, she danced briefly in her seat, fists pumping in the air. "Yeah!" She howled, victorious. "Not bad for an old lady!" She looked around at the silent landscape, wishing momentarily for an audience.
Carol shivered violently in the ever deepening cold, her laughter and elation short-lived. She pulled back the sleeve of her heavy coat and checked her watch. "Damn," She whispered, gunning the motor back to life. "Running out of time."
The final stretch into town was mercifully quick; she had pushed the quad to its limits during the last mile, and it whined at the abuse. Reaching a dense clump of small houses, Carol finally eased up on the gas. She slowly drove up and down the deserted streets as she listened for the telling tinkle of bells. Coming
to a stop at a snowy dead end, she killed the motor and stepped out onto the frozen gravel. There - she could hear it...
Looking up, Carol scanned the rooftops of the silent homes. She smiled, relieved, as she spotted the elusive, dark shape moving across the shingled roof two houses down. She jogged up to the house, glancing around carefully. The neighborhood continued to sleep soundly.
"Nick!" She called in an urgent whisper. "Nick! Down here you old fool!" She grinned.
"Carol? Is that you?" A disembodied voice whispered back, the dark shape turning toward her. "What are you doing here?"
"You forgot one!" She pointed back toward the now silent and much abused four-wheeled vehicle.
"Shoot - ok, hold on a minute." The dark shape disappeared behind the roof's peak. Carol leaned against the chain link fence edging the property and waited.
Nick emerged from around the side of the house a few moments later. His red velvet coat looked almost black under the dim streetlight and his blue eyes glittered above a snowy white beard. His glossy black boots crunched the frozen snow with each quick step. He smiled as he approached, and engulfed Carol in a warm hug.
Carol embraced his wide girth and buried her face in his fur lined collar, breathing in the familiar cologne. Nick pulled back, holding her at arms length, and gazed at her with a smile.
"I can't believe you drove all this way on that tiny thing," Nick's voice boomed and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked back toward the dead end. "Thanks for bringing it. Without it, the New Zealand route would have been a bust."
"Aw, it was nothing," Carol replied, nudging him with her hip. "But Nick - next year? We're buying a second sleigh."
THE END
About the Author
Leigh Andrade is a knitter, tech enthusiast, nurse and voracious reader. She dreams of driving coast-to-coast with an Airstream trailer and writing about her travels. Leigh lives in Canada with her family and two crazy dogs.
Don't forget to check out Leigh's new novella, Breaking Through - coming Spring 2012
Connect Online
Twitter: https://twitter.com/life_of_leigh
Blog: https://lifeofleigh.wordpress.com/