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Chapter 7

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Chapter 1    Chapter 2    Chapter 3    Chapter 4

*
A Note from the Author

Before I begin chapter 7, let me share that I realize my fragmented experiment with narration in chapters 5 and 6 didn’t quite work for many of you. I was going for almost a “How I Met Your Mother” narration style. And since those chapters didn’t really alter the plot, let’s just pretend they were a sort of dream sequence, like the Halloween episodes of “The Simpsons.” Or that they didn’t happen at all. 

Chapter 7 will be a direct continuation from chapter 4. Thank you for bearing with me as I sometimes succeed and sometimes blunder in my very experimental adventure through novel writing.

*

Chapter 7

With a silly grin, he made his way back up the hill and plopped down next to me in the snow. “I’m Chad,” he said extending his olive toned hand. “Perhaps an introduction is warranted given how intimately we have recently become acquainted.”

“Well, I do need a name to use when I tell all my girlfriends about that little ditch predicament you, sir, just found yourself in.”

“As do I. As do I.”

“To tell all your girlfriends about my little ditch predicament?” Flirtation activated.

His grin widened. “Indeed, but of course,” he corrected, “to tell all my boyfriends about your ditch predicament.”  Flirtation aborted.

Horror crossed his face. “That’s not what I meant. Girlfriends. Girlfriends. That’s what I meant.” I stared at him, soaking up every moment of his adorable descent into awkward embarrassment. To help the situation, I remained quiet, studying him intently, one eyebrow raised.

“Not that I have a ton of girlfriends.”

“Of course not,” I grinned. Awkward flirtation back in session.

“That would be bad.”

“Very very bad,” I replied, feigning seriousness. I wondered how uncomfortable I could let him get before it crossed from flirtatious banter into flirtatious cruelty. A little further. I waited for more explanation.

“Yea, just a few—actually one—just one.”

I sighed. Oh well. Flirtation aborted. Again. I guessed this wouldn’t be my Hallmark romance ending after all.

He must have noticed the disappointment cross my face and it made him realize his latest verbal blunder.

“I mean none. No girlfriend.” He was shaking his head back and forth.

He’d made a pointed effort to emphasize that he was both single and straight. And of course awkwardly adorable.

Flirtation reactivated.

I decided to end his torture and smiled wide.

“Relax! I understand. Straight and single.”  Nope. I just had to keep it little uncomfortable. It’s what I do. With that, Chad finally laughed.

With a sense of humor.

My mental man list was well on its way.

And chivalrous for picking me up out of the snow.

And strong. Check, check, and check. Boy crazed Carolyn may have grown up but she could never stop being boy crazy. Or rather, man crazy as her age would have it.

“I’m Carolyn,” and we shook hands, left hands, to preserve what feeling I still had of my crushed fingers.

“So, what brings you here, Carolyn?”

“Honestly? It was the only plowed exit I could find, and I really had to pee.”

“And have you had any success in that department?”

“Nope.”

“I have something that might help.” If we weren’t talking about using the bathroom, this would have sounded like a shady conversation.

“A bathroom?” I asked enthusiastically.

He grimaced. “Even better.” I was intrigued.

“Even better than a bathroom… I’m hooked.”

“Visualization. Close your eyes.”

A few butterflies buzzed in my stomach, subduing the urgency to use the bathroom; I closed my eyes.

“Now imagine you are sitting in a green field full of flowers. You hear the birds chirping. The breeze blowing… and the subtle sound of a waterfall—” I punched him as hard as I could in the arm and instantly recoiled from the pain.

I’d accidentally used my crushed hand.

His laughter was ruthless but was was offset when he immediately reached for my injured hand. I tentatively let him take it and he examined it gently.

“Doesn’t feel broken. Maybe deeply bruised.” Maybe he was a doctor after all.

“Are you a doctor?”

“Would you be impressed if I said, yes.”

“Not really.” I smirked. I totally would.

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not.”

“Good thing. So what do you do Mister—”

“Cook”

“What do you do Mister Cook?”

His smile widened. “I’m a fighter, actually,” clearly impressed with himself.

Liar. Not that kind of strong. I shook my head.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

A laugh escaped, but I stopped myself. “I absolutely, positively… do not believe you.”

He laughed again.

“I’m actually a Firefighter and Paramedic.”

“That explains how you could carry me up the hill so easily. That was impressive.”

He shrugged.

“But it doesn’t explain the tumbling down the hill…”

“Ice,” he accused.

“Right.”

“So how about you, Miss—” he waited for a response.

“How do you know I’m a Miss?” I teased.

“Well if you were a Mrs., I doubt you would be driving alone, in the snow, in the middle of the night alone.”

“A bit presumptuous are we?”

He shrugged unapologetically.

“How do you figure?”
 “Well, my Mrs. would not be driving alone at night in the snow.”

“How very traditional.”

He looked a bit offended, but not too offended, at my accusation. “And is that wrong?”

Not at all, I thought. Not one bit. But the strong independent woman in me had to at least put up a little fight.

I looked intently into his eyes trying to read as much as I could from them. He looked back into mine, refusing to break eye contact. Tension steadily rose, and I could feel the heat in the pit of my stomach. He had sharp features. Symmetrical. Severe dark chocolate eyes and short, well-groomed hair to match. There was definite chemistry in the works. In fact, I couldn’t help but think what a perfectly romantic moment this would be for a kiss, but that would be a bit premature even for boy crazy Carolyn. A bit, nontraditional. I gave him a tight smile. Just a little rope for the poor guy.  I’d almost forgotten his question when I became suddenly aware that he was still holding my hand. Or maybe he was holding it again. I wasn’t sure. The warmth radiated between us.

I allowed my facial expression to soften further.

“Traditional is okay.” I smiled and nodded. I quite liked traditional actually.

“Really?” He said, pleasantly surprised.

“To an extent.”  I was strong and independent, sure, but it didn’t change the fact that I wanted a strong guy. Even a protective one.

“Well I’m a traditional guy… to an extent.” He was trying to impress me. It was kinda cute.

Our gaze still intent, I gave another tight smile and he did the same.

He looked forward, breaking the tension.

“So Miss Carolyn, what do you do?”

“I’m a teacher.”

“Ah a caretaker… how very traditional.” Now he was teasing me.

“Ha. Yes, suppose it is traditional, but I’m more like a zookeeper…. or ringmaster… or a cat wrangler.” Really, I could go on forever with the metaphors.

“What grade?”

“5th”

“That must be fun.”

“Circuses are fun.”

We locked eyes again. The smell of his cologne permeating my senses. I’d never been so attracted to a smell before. I inched in closer, again drinking in his scent, very aware that I had a problem. A I-cannot-resist-the-smell-of-a-well-groomed-clean-shaven-masculine-cologned man problem.

I knew it was too soon, but I wanted him to kiss me.

Our gaze deepened.

My feelings were conflicted.

Kiss me.

No, it’s too soon.

Look away, I thought.

Break the tension.

Say something.

I think he’s actually gonna kiss me.

“Chad?” I couldn’t contain myself any longer.

“Yes?”

“I really have to pee.”

That broke the tension.

 

fiction, romance, short story, Singleness, snow, Uncategorized

Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

I know what you are probably thinking.

This dude is going to carry her into his festively lit living room, the pop of the fireplace crackling about, the smell of pine incensing her nostrils. He will set her down gently on the living room couch and help her stretch out her injured leg across the table, which he will first, with one swift brush of his arm, sweep all things to the ground to clear the way. He will tell her to relax and be still and that he will take care of her wounds. He will then disappear into the kitchen to gather gauze and other such first aid supplies.

While sitting alone in the candle lit living room, she will look around and notice pictures of him in a white lab coat, with a stethoscope around his neck, in a remote Southeast Asian village, surrounded by smiling, clearly impoverished children, one of which will be sitting on his shoulders and pulling on his ears while laughing hysterically. He will, of course, be wearing a smile as wide as his heart, revealing his brilliantly white and unnaturally straight teeth.

A superstar of Doctors Without Borders. An adventurer who just happens to be living in this town to help his ailing grandma and sickly cousin but maintains close ties to his international connections and is ready with an overnight bag and passport at a moment’s notice.

Then, in crashes the missing puzzle piece to his extravagantly humble life, the damsel in distress school teacher with a latent travel bug and freshly renewed passport, ready to be whisked off her injured feet and superimposed into her very own international edition of a Hallmark romance.

The End

***

But that’s not what happened.

As I was “drinking in the scent” of his perfectly cologned neck, en route up the hill, impressed by his strength, grace, and chivalry, the brute dropped me flat on my wider-than-I-would-care-to-admit-but-still-not-cushioned-enough-to-dull-the-pain-derriere and then proceeded to, himself, tumble down the hill into the very ditch from which he had just pulled me.

Fantasy abated.

The weight of my own body against my tailbone sent shudders down my legs, stopping along the way to mingle with the pain already settled in them before releasing itself into the atmosphere and allowing me once again to form cogent thoughts.

The first of which was concern for the durability of this guy’s neck, but my concern was pacified when, as soon as he landed, his arms sprouted into the air and gave me two enthusiastic thumbs up. Still laying on the ground with arms in the air, he exclaimed to me with spirited reassurance, “I’m fine! I’m good! Everything is good here.”

His house had better smell of pine, I thought.

*

Chapters 5 and 6 have been omitted. Please move on to chapter 7.

If you have become a consistent reader, please drop me a comment!

fiction, romance, short story, Singleness, Uncategorized

Chapter 3

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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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fiction, romance, short story, snow, Uncategorized

Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

As soon as I realized what I’d done, I pulled at the door handle, jiggling it feverishly. I succeeded at getting it open nearly an inch when my left fingers slipped. Instinctively, my right hand reached to catch it, and in that same moment, traction gave way beneath me, pulling me into the door and slamming it shut on three of my right fingers. Or maybe it was four. The ache was moving more slowly than it normally would due to the wintry temperatures.

I couldn’t tell if the snap I heard was was from my fingers or was the sound of the door handle slinging shut. I let out a short, curdling scream, perhaps a few curse words that I won’t admit to, and proceeded to inhale slowly and deeply, consciously imagining the pain releasing out of my fingertips. Visualization. I’d heard of it. I wasn’t entirely sure this is what it was though.

Within seconds, the pain had moved deep into my fingertips and settled into a slowly pulsating throb.

Visualization was for the birds.

*

Even if I could’ve wedged the door open more than a few inches than before, my pulsating fingers couldn’t handle the pressure now. At least the coldness will soon numb the pain.

As the reality of the situation sank in–as well as the pain, I was beside myself. I had no idea where I was beyond being in Mechanicsville. And other than passing the sign for the town hundreds of times on the way to and from my grandparents home over the years, I’d never actually stopped there to find out what sort of place it was. Was I in the middle of an empty town? A small city? Was there a Main Street? Was this it? Was there a gas station within walking distance? How many miles had I already been driving in this neighborhood, and how many more would it be before an exit could be found?

And of course the biggest question. What was I going to do now?

I knew what was behind me. Miles of unplowed roads, houses, and a virtually empty main drag. I didn’t know what was before me, so I walked on. Trudging through the ever deepening snow, I looked around for the couples I had seen just fifteen minutes prior. Or maybe it was much longer than fifteen minutes. I really wasn’t sure. Not one one in sight.

I thought about my students as I moved. I pondered my lack of available sick days due to family illnesses and at last, sighed over the supposition that I couldn’t really control this situation exactly. Though I wasn’t quite convinced of this fact. I also wasn’t quite convinced I wouldn’t make it back in time for morning classes. Worry over how I would contact the school to get a sub filled me: While trapped. On foot. In a snowstorm. In a strange city. Alone. In the middle of the night.

Anxiety crept over me. Anxiety over my messy desk and the sudden presence of an unexpected stranger judging me. Touching my desk. Organizing my stacks. I shuddered at the thought. Seeing my soon to be three day old half cup of coffee left over from Friday morning still sitting on my desk. Would serve them right if they touched my stacks, I thought, grimacing at the thought.

Suddenly aware of the frosty wetness seeping into my shoes, leaving my toes with a bitter cold burning sensation, made me keenly aware of the deranged mental health of teachers. I shook the thoughts from my head and continued on.

Once again, I wondered where the people were who had been strolling through the snow earlier. Looking around, I realized very little was in sight. The snowfall and wind speed had picked up somewhere between smashing my fingers and having vengeful thoughts towards my future substitute teacher and all the intelligent people had taken cover in their homes. The rest of us were wearing ice sculptures shaped as tennis shoes, no socks, and slowly moving into the first stages of hypothermia.

The severity of the situation hadn’t quite hit me.

But a high speed wooden toboggan did.

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