Don’t forget to read chapters 1-2 first!
Chapter 3
The crushing weight of nothing lighter than a large grizzly bear on a sled pinned me to the ground without warning. And before I realized I’d even been knocked over, the grizzly bear rolled off and was whimpering like a sick cub beside me. Simultaneous sensations spread throughout my body, one of being sucker punched and the other, of being massaged down my left leg by a large cactus. The pins and needles peppered across my flesh like quickly blinking Christmas lights. Out of place ones. Like those random single color red ones that lined just half the length of our neighbor’s house when I was a child. I stammered on, once again attempting to hold back another round of curse words, which I will, as usual not color the page with.
A monstrous woman’s voice hailed from the hill beside me, a hill I did not even notice until after I was mauled by that grizzly bear going midnight sledding.
“Jake! I told you to be careful!” A red coat emerged from the snow next to me. The grizzly bear was none other than a child not exceeding three feet tall and clearly going by the name of Jake.
“Get in the house, now!”
A gentler voice, that of a man approaching, followed.
“Hey little man, you okay?” The man shuffled quickly over from a neighboring yard, lifting the wild little grizzly cub and standing him on his two feet. The child wiggled free from his grasp, said nothing, grabbed his much-too-large tobogan, and ran up the hill to his berating mother.
“You know that tobogan—” his voice trailed off in resignation. And to himself, he uttered, “is mine.” The man shrugged, clearly used to his next door Dennis the Mennis.
I sat up the best I could under the snow and began the futile business of dusting the slush off my legs from the underside of my lower pant legs. I shuddered when my hand made contact with my left shin. It was hard to see, but I was almost certain it was bleeding. A warm liquid sensation, contrasting greatly with the cold wetness from the snow, spilled out from the wound. The pain was almost agonizing. Almost—simply because the adrenaline of my overall situation, that of being lost in a snowstorm, in the middle of the night, in a strange town, alone, kept me from dwelling too much on the impact of the crash.
At the sound of my grunt, the man suddenly noticed my peculiar presence in the middle of the midnight snow.
“Oh goodness.You okay!?” The man, about thirty years old, if I could guess right through the concealment of the dark, begged, concern in his voice. He rushed at me with an outstretched hand, a hand that I readily accepted, careful to respond with my left, less injured hand. Despite the situation, I couldn’t help but notice how small my hand felt in his and how gentle, yet firm his grip was. Per usual, without much forethought, I casually glanced at his left hand to look for a ring. Of course it was pointless, given he was wearing gloves. Like a sane person would. Unlike myself.
“Do you live nearby?” he questioned. I shook my head, delivering a quiet laugh at the whole of my circumstances and the the difficulty I would have at explaining my situation and the series of unfortunate events that landed me here in this very moment. After a moment of awkward laughter on my part, and no doubt awkward incomprehension on his, I replied.
“You know those moments we often console ourselves in the middle of by telling ourselves, ‘When we look back at this in ten years, we’re gonna laugh?’
He gave a nodding grin. “Sure.”
“Well, that’s my night,” I said confidently with an awkward laugh. And with that laugh, I bared into my left leg, attempting to walk, and instantly, it gave way to gravity pulling me straight towards the ground. I shrieked at the pain.
Unbelievable.
In complete astonishment, I found myself suddenly caught and quite literally whisked into the air and into the arms of this unexpected man. My shriek was followed by a yelp at the surprise, and though the pressure of him holding me as if carrying me across a wedding threshold multiplied my leg pain, sudden warmth at being held as if being carried across a wedding threshold filled my stomach and made the pain inconsequential.
Yet, my independent and cautious nature led me to struggle against the assistance.
“It’s okay,” I assured him as I pulled away, trying to get down. His strength was impressive as I’m not what you may consider a small boned lady. I definitely had enough meat on my bones to feel awkward at being carried, but the ease at which he seemed to carry me gave me some unexpected comfort.
“You can’t walk.” He stated very matter of factly, as if his words settled the matter. “Where do you belong?”
I laughed at the question, again thinking of my present circumstance, but understanding his meaning, simply responded, “My car broke down and I got snowed out of it. I live two hours away.”
He turned to me with a look that could only be described by “Seriously?” or perhaps, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” It wasn’t an angry look though. He uttered a quiet, audible laugh and turned his tracks towards the house at the top of the hill.
The situation I was in wasn’t lost on me. I very well knew that I was in the arms of a strange man and about to enter his house with little ability to escape should I need to. I had no knowledge of what was held inside, whether it be a lair where he kept women chained up in the basement or a cozy cabin with a cheerful wife and three adoring children. Or perhaps, he was just a bachelor waiting for the woman of his dreams to show up injured and in need of a knight and shining armor at the edge of his driveway in the middle of a romantic snowy December night. I was hoping for the latter but would have happily settled for the former.
But still, he could be serial killer.
Unable to do anything but hope and being thoroughly impressed by the ease at which he carried me up the hill, I relaxed momentarily and drank in his fragrance. He smelled of fire but not like a fireplace or like a burning building. Like a cologne with a burning sweetness. I found myself pressing my face into his neck, not so forcefully as to be noticeable by him, but enough to block the wind a bit and to feel the heat of his 5:00 shadow.
Ch. 3 to be continued ____________________________________
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Graceful Persistence 