“Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Myers.” I lean down and hug the tiny woman.

“It’s the least I can do, Gwen. You really didn’t have to drive all the way out here to bring me a pie.”

I smile. “I wanted to. You’ve been so nice to me, and you’re the reason I’m even here.”

Mrs. Myers is the grandmother of my best friend, Emma, back in Indianapolis. One day Emma was on the phone with her grandmother, who mentioned one of the elementary school’s teachers where she lived was moving away and the school board needed a replacement. It was fate, because just that day before I had told Emma that the kids and I needed a fresh start.

She pats my hand and holds out a container with leftover stew to take home. “We’re glad to have you here in Cat’s Valley.” She puts her hand on top of Daniel’s head and ruffles his hair. “It’s been a delight getting to know these two.”

Kelsey is stoic as she slips on her coat, staring off across the room. I hand her her gloves and watch as she robotically slips them on. Mrs. Myers walks over to her, gently grabs her cheeks, lifts her face, and kisses her forehead. Kelsey doesn’t respond in the slightest, just stares up at the older lady.

“You both be good for your momma, and I’ll see you at Christmas,” she tells both the kids.

“Will you have something for us?” Daniel asks, bold as you please.

“Really, Daniel?” I scold. “You don’t ask questions like that.”

Mrs. Myers cackles. “He’s fine.” She pinches one of his cheeks. “You, sir, will just have to wait and see.” She turns to me. “Emma’s already chomping at the bit to get here.”

I hand Kelsey the container of stew to hold while I slip on my gloves. I pull my keys from my pocket, then take back the container.

“I’m excited to see her. I miss her so much.”

Emma’s been my friend since high school, and I’ve never gone this long without seeing her. We talk almost daily, but it’s not the same.

I make sure both kids are bundled up tight before saying goodbye to Mrs. Myers. When I pull open the door, I’m shocked to see how much snow is on the ground and how hard it’s still coming down. When we got here a couple hours ago, there was only about six to eight inches on the ground. Now, my truck has a layer of snow at least four or five inches thick. The heavy snowfall wasn’t supposed to start until later this afternoon.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Myers says beside me. “I’m so sorry for keeping you so long. Will you be okay driving in this?”

I turn to look at both kids, not liking the idea, but knowing I’ll have to in order to get home. “Yeah. I’ve got a four-wheel drive, and I’ve driven in snow before.”

She looks worried as she twists her hands together, and I reach over and grab them. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.” I offer a smile.

“Make sure you call me once you get home, or I’ll worry.”

“Will do.”

I leave the kids in the house while I warm up the truck and brush the snow off the windows and windshield. After saying our goodbyes, we load up. I’m used to driving in the snow, but it still makes me nervous, especially when it’s coming down so thick. The roads are covered, so I ride down the middle since the lines are no longer visible anyway. I drive slow and grip the steering wheel tightly. When we come across the stretch of road that declines for two miles, I become anxious. Luckily, we make it down the hill without any problems. The relief doesn’t last long though.

We’ve been driving for about twenty minutes and are coming around a curve when all of a sudden, something about the size of a dog with a gray fluffy tail runs across the road. I know better than to do it in this type of weather, and I realize my mistake right away, but my first reaction is to hit the brakes to avoid hitting the animal. The back end of my truck fishtails around until we’re almost sliding sideways down the road. I vaguely hear Daniel yelling, but I’m concentrating on trying to straighten out the truck

It’s a fruitless effort, as seconds later, we come to a jerky stop with the front end in a shallow ditch. I immediately turn to the kids.

“Are you both okay?” I ask, looking over Daniel, who’s shaken but otherwise unharmed. My eyes go to Kelsey next and see no visible injuries. Her eyes are wide with fright and the look makes me sick to my stomach. “Kelsey?” Her gaze swings to mine. I reach back and grab her shaking hand. “Are you okay, baby?” She doesn’t respond right away, just looks around wildly, and fear spikes through me. Finally, her eyes meet mine and she gives me a small nod. I blow out a relieved breath that neither are hurt.

I turn back around and take stock of our surroundings. The snow is coming down so hard that it’s already starting to cover the windshield, blocking my view. I look out the windows and see nothing. Turning, I look out the back window, and don’t see anything there either.

I turn the key, hoping by some miracle I can get us out of here. My truck may be four-wheel drive, but I highly doubt I’ll be able to back us out of the position we’re in. We’re at too much of an angle and the snow is too thick. It’s worth a shot, though.

I silently curse when it won’t even turn over. I pull my phone from my purse to call Jeremy, and panic sets in when I find I have no signal. I look up when the interior of the truck starts to dim. The snow is covering the windshield fast, and I can already feel the temperature dropping.

I look back at the kids. “Keep on your jackets, hats, and gloves. I’m going to step outside a minute, okay?”

“I’m scared, Mom,” Daniel says. He’s always been my strong boy, so for him to show fear now means he’s really scared.

I get up on my knees and lean over the seat. Grabbing his cheeks, I make him look at me. “Listen to me. Everything is okay. I’m just going to step outside for a minute. I’m not getting a signal on my phone inside the truck because of the snow covering it. I’m going to call Jeremy and he’ll come help us.”

He looks at me for several seconds, then he nods. I lean over more and kiss his forehead. I move to Kelsey next. She still looks frightened. “Watch over your brother while I’m outside, okay?”

She nods, and I kiss her forehead as well. Sitting back in the front seat, I pull my gloves and hat back on. It won’t do much good without the engine going, and the heat won’t last long, but I turn the key in the ignition and warmth blasts out of the vents. Grabbing my phone, I quickly get out of the truck and slam the door closed to keep in as much heat as I can. Looking down at my phone, I still have no signal, which isn’t really a surprise. Although I detest lying to my kids, I wasn’t exactly truthful to Daniel. The chance of getting a signal outside the car is slim to none in this weather. The wind and snow are probably blocking any signal.

I climb the small hill from the ditch and walk out to the middle of the road. I turn in circles, trying to locate a house, or some form of nearby living. The snow is coming down so heavy that it’s hard to keep my eyes open to see through it. I shield my eyes with my hand, but it’s no use, I see not one damn house around.

Crap. What in the hell am I going to do?

I walk back to the truck and quickly get inside. It’s warmer than it is outside, but when I turn to face the kids, they already have puffs of white coming out of their mouths when they breathe. I kill the engine; the air coming out of the vents is no longer warm in the slightest.

“Mom,” Daniel says, his voice quivering. “What are we going to do?”

I take a minute to answer him, because… well, I have no damn clue what I’m going to do. Obviously I can’t tell the kids that though. I’m the adult, and am supposed to have plans for everything. Helplessness and fear slither in when I realize how dire our situation is. This stretch of road is long and a good distance away from town. The few times I’ve been out this way, I’ve only seen a couple of cars, and the chance of one driving by now in this weather is pretty damn slim.

What in the hell am I going to do? Think, Gwen!

“Mom?”

I look back at Daniel and force a smile. I need time to figure out a plan.

“For now, you and your sister are going to come up front with me.” I point to the back. “Grab the blanket in the back and climb up here.”

They both unbuckle, and while Daniel grabs the blanket, Kelsey climbs over the seat. I lift the console once Daniel has climbed up front as well. He sits in the middle, while Kelsey sits on the other side of him.

“Scoot closer together.” They do so, and I put the blanket over all three of our laps. I always have a blanket in the back of my Range Rover. It stems from growing up in the north. My parents always told me it’s never a bad thing to be prepared. A look at the windshield shows it’s covered completely, and the window on my side is three quarters of the way. Kelsey’s window only has a thin layer because of the way the wind is blowing.

“Are we going to be okay?” Daniel asks, and I look down at him, then over at Kelsey.

“We’re going to be just fine. Someone is going to come by soon and see us.” I ruffle his hair, acting as though I’m not worried, while I silently start to freak out inside. My options are very limited. I can either leave them in the car while I go look for a house, hope another car comes this way and spots us, or bring them with me. I don’t like any of those options.

I jump when I hear a loud thump on the window. When I look over some of the snow has slid off the window, and I see someone standing there. Both relief and fear mix together at seeing the person. On one hand, I’m relieved that someone has already found us and we won’t freeze to death, but on the other, I have no idea who it is. For all I know, it could be a serial killer. I don’t really have a choice though. It’s either take the chance and hope I’m not putting my kids in even more danger by opening the door, or ignore the person and hope someone else will find us before we freeze. I opt for decision number one, because the chances of a serial killer looking for victims outside in this weather are low.

I look back at the kids. “See, I told you.” I smile.

I take a deep breath, say a silent prayer, and turn the key so I can power down the window a few inches. Wind and snow immediately hit me in the face, and I have to blink a few times to clear my vision. When I do, I’m surprised at who I see. It’s the man from the market yesterday. His head is covered in a beanie and the way he’s holding his face against the wind hides the scarred side.

“Hi. Thank you so much for stopping.”

He bends and peers inside the truck, his eyes flickering from Daniel to Kelsey. He shows no surprise at seeing me.

“Why are you driving out in this?” he asks, bringing his eyes back to mine. This close, they look a dark smoky gray, instead of the black they appeared the other day. I wonder if they change according to what he’s feeling.

“We were dropping off a pie at Mrs. Myers’ place. It wasn’t supposed to be this bad this early,” I tell him.

“You learn around here to always expect the worst. It says to expect snow tonight, then you prepare for it today. This close to the mountains, there’s no telling when the snow will actually get here.”

“Is there any way you can pull me out?”

He straightens and looks toward the front of the truck, then the back, assessing the situation, before bending back down.

“Snow’s too thick. I’ve got chains on my tires, but they won’t do any good. You’re too far down into the ditch.”

I grip the steering wheel and try to stay calm. It could be worse. We could still be out here alone. Besides, I didn’t really think there was a chance I’d get my truck out today anyway.

I blow out a breath. “I hate to ask, especially in this weather, but is there any way you could give us a lift to town? My cell phone isn’t picking up a signal out here.”

He turns his head, and in the six or so inch gap of window, his scar comes into view. The skin looks even more mangled up close. A twinge of pain pierces my chest. The pain he must have endured to have such scars.

He turns back to me, then looks over to the kids. When his eyes flick back to mine once again, his jaw tics, and I know he really doesn’t want to help, but there’s no way he can just leave us out here. I’m unsure if it were just me he’d leave me to fend for myself or not, but he won’t do that to kids. I understand his reluctance; he doesn’t know us, and I’m sure he has better things to do than lug around a woman and her two children, but it still irks me that he’s so hesitant. It’s not like I purposely drove my car off the road.

His voice is gruff when he says, “Grab the kids and let’s go,” before standing and walking away.

They’re both shivering when I tell them, “Come on, let’s go get warm.”

Grabbing the key out of the ignition and my purse from the floorboard, I push open the door and the kids follow me out of the truck.

“Wait, Daniel!” I say when he makes a move to walk out of the ditch. I lock my doors, grab Kelsey’s hand, and help both kids out of the ditch. Together, we walk over to the running truck parked behind my Range Rover. The man is already inside waiting for us.

I open the door and let Daniel get in first, then Kelsey, before climbing in after her. I didn’t realize how cold I was until the warm air from the vents hit me. The truck is old, so it has a bench seat with a seat belt in the middle. I grab the strap and hand it to Daniel. “You and Kelsey have to share a seat belt.” I click mine into place once theirs is done.

I glance over at the man and find his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly as he looks ahead. I swallow and say, “Thank you for the ride. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

A grunt is all I get in return as he puts the truck in gear and slowly starts to creep forward. I fold my hands on top of my purse and look straight out the windshield. I hate the silence, but I’m not going to force the guy to talk if he doesn’t want to. He may not want to accept my gratitude, but this is the second time he’s come to my rescue, and I’m grateful.

Something tugs on my jacket, and I look down to Daniel. He pulls me across Kelsey and tries to whisper, but it’s still loud enough for the man to hear. “What’s wrong with his face, Mom?”

“Daniel,” I scold, and look up at the man in embarrassment. I know he had to have heard the question, but he shows no sign that he did. “You don’t ask questions like that.”

“Sorry,” he mutters sullenly.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s alright,” the man says, keeping his eyes forward and his expression neutral.

“No, it’s not. It’s rude and he shouldn’t have asked it, especially loud enough for you to hear.”

“He’s just curious. At least he’s honest about his curiosity.”

I sit back and think about his statement, remembering back to the old ladies in the market yesterday. From what they said, he doesn’t come to town a lot, so I’m sure when he does, the gossip and whispers start anew. I can’t imagine everything I’m sure he’s overheard. No matter how quiet people are with their opinions and remarks, it’ll still always get back to the recipient of their chatter, especially in a town as small as Cat’s Valley.

“I’m sorry we’re pulling you away from wherever you were going,” I tell him, just to keep some form of conversation going. For some reason, I want him to talk to me.

“I saw your truck from my cabin.”

“Oh,” I remark. “I didn’t see it from the road when I was looking for houses.”

“It’s hard to see from the road with all the trees, especially when you’ve got snow blowing in your face.”

It turns quiet, then I tell him, even though he never asked, “Something ran out in front of us. I know better than to slam on the brakes in the snow, but I did it to avoid the animal before I realized what I was doing.”

“Probably a fox. We get them out here a lot during the winter.”

“Mom.” Another tug on my jacket has me looking down at Daniel again. “I gotta go pee.”

I look over at the man, then back at Daniel. “Can you wait a bit longer? We have to go slower than normal, but we’ll be there soon.”

All of a sudden, the truck stops, and the man lets out a deep sigh. I’m just about to tell him that Daniel will be fine until we get to town when he climbs from the truck. I look out the windshield and realize he didn’t stop for Daniel, but because a tree’s fallen across the road, blocking our path. The man walks to the tree, looks at it for a moment, then comes back to the truck.

He hammers his hand on the steering wheel once, mutters a curse under his breath, then looks over at me and mumbles an apology for cursing in front of the kids.

“I can’t move it and that’s the only road that leads to town, unless we want to go up the mountain and around, which will take hours in this weather, and there’s no guarantee we’ll make it.”

I look from the tree in the road to him, then down to the kids and back to the tree. I talk to the windshield when I say, “I’m sorry.” I bring my eyes to him. “Do you know Mrs. Myers? Could you take us to her place, and I’ll call someone in town when the roads clear up and the tree’s gone?”

His stormy eyes face me. “No,” he says bluntly. “I’m surprised you even made it down the mountain in this weather.”

He looks out the windshield, his brows narrowed into a frown. Kelsey fidgets beside me, and I look down at her. She’s looking forward and most wouldn’t notice it, but I see the worry on her face. She doesn’t show her feelings often; the scared look on her face earlier and right now are more than I’ve seen in a while. I reach over and grab her hand. She looks up at me and I smile, trying to ease her worry.

The man’s hand brushes my shoulder when he lays his arm on the back of the seat. He turns his head to look out the back windshield and the truck starts to move backwards slowly. A minute later, he’s backing into a narrow road that looks to be access to a field, then pulls forward and drives the way we just came from.

“Where are we going?” I ask, curious.

“My place,” he grunts.

My eyes widen in shock. I’m not sure what I expected his answer to be, but that certainly wasn’t it.

“Do you have a landline? Maybe I can call someone—”

“And what?” he interrupts. “Have them drive over the huge tree in the road? Or have them risk themselves going over the mountain?”

I snap my mouth shut, because he’s right. My only two choices are to take the kids back to the car, something I wouldn’t do, or let him bring us to his house. I know nothing about this guy, but he doesn’t rub me as being someone to harm us. I still hate knowing we’ll be imposing on him though.

“Mom,” Daniel says, tugging once again on my jacket. “I really have to go.”

Before I get a chance to respond, the man does. “Five minutes, kid. Or I can pull over if you can’t wait and you can freeze your willie off.”

I sputter out a laugh and the guy looks over at me. His face is blank and the look wipes away my lingering mirth.

“Can you wait five minutes, Daniel?”

I can tell he wants to say no, but he’s trying to pull off the big-boy act in front of the man. After several seconds, he nods.

I look up. “Since you’re taking us to your home, can we have your name?” That’s one thing that’s bugged me since yesterday, not knowing his name.

He takes so long to answer that I fear he won’t. We’re passing by my car on the side of the road when he says gruffly, “Alexander.”

For some reason, the name suits him perfectly. “Thank you for helping us, Alexander,” I tell him.

He doesn’t respond, just keeps his eyes pinned on the road in front of us. Several minutes pass before we turn down what I assume is his driveway. The snow is still coming down heavily, so it’s hard to see what we’re driving toward. Everyone stays silent as we slowly creep along, until we pull up to a small cabin. And a cabin is definitely what it is.

He pulls to a stop, shuts off the engine, then opens his door. I follow suit and get out of the truck, then turn to help the kids down. As we walk to the porch, I take stock of the cabin. It’s rustic and well-used, but looks properly maintained. We follow Alexander up the steps, and I notice two wicker chairs and a small table between them. On the railing, there’s a coffee mug. He notices it at the same time I do and picks it up.

“I was out here drinking coffee when I noticed your truck,” he explains.

I turn and look out over the yard toward where I know my Range Rover is. I can barely see anything but a little red blip off in the distance. My eyes slide to the left, and I see a big red barn about fifty feet away. Then they land on a partially built structure.

When I turn back around, Alexander is already gone and the door is standing wide open. I walk the kids across the threshold, then close the door behind us. I take a minute to look around the place. It’s just as small as it looks from the outside, but it has a homey feel to it. The floors are a dark hardwood, along with the walls. On one wall is a mounted TV with a brown leather couch and a small wooden table across from it. In the corner is a fireplace that currently holds burning logs. There’s a fluffy gray rug in front of it. Very cozy. At the opposite end of the room starts a small area where it looks like a table should be. Beyond that is the kitchen. I spot Alexander standing at the stove.

A wiggling Daniel reminds me that we need the bathroom. I take off my jacket and gloves and have the kids do the same, then hang them on the hooks by the door. Grabbing his hand and with Kelsey following me, I walk us to the bar that separates the dining area and kitchen.

“Could you point us to the bathroom?” I ask Alexander’s back.

He doesn’t turn around as he says, “Down the hall on the left.”

With one last glance at his back, I lead the kids across the living room and into the hall. The bathroom we enter is small, with only a toilet and sink. Kelsey and I wait outside while Daniel does his business. I notice a closed door across from the bathroom and another down at the end. Kelsey goes next while Daniel and I wait.

Once they’re both done, we go back to the living room to the couch. “You both sit while I go talk to Mr. Alexander.”

He’s still standing at the stove when I walk into the kitchen. Steam rises from the pot he’s stirring.

“I want to thank you again for helping us,” I say. “Hopefully the roads will be clear enough tomorrow so my truck can be pulled out and we can get out of your hair.”

“They won’t.”

He leaves the stove and grabs three mugs out of the cabinet to the left.

“What do you mean, they won’t? How could you know?”

He starts pouring the contents of the pot into the mugs before turning to face me. His scars stand out in the light of the room. They’re harsh, but oddly beautiful.

“Because I’ve lived here my whole life. They don’t move fast around here. It’ll be at least two or three days before the road is clear enough to pull your truck out and for them to move the tree.”

He grabs two of the mugs and sets them down on the bar, then hands me one.

“Hot cocoa. Figured you and the kids could use some to warm up.”

Before I get a chance to respond with a thank-you, he leaves the kitchen. I turn and watch as he walks out the front door without a backward glance. I look down at the mug in my hand, then at the ones on the bar. The man is a contradiction. At the market yesterday I got the feeling he’s not a very friendly person. I got the same vibe in the truck, but then he’s thoughtful enough to make my kids and me hot cocoa because he thought we may need to warm up. It was very kind of him, and I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips at the kind gesture.

I call the kids over and they sit at the bar and drink their cocoa while I stand beside them. Holding the mug up to my lips, I look around the kitchen. The appliances seem to be newer than the rest of the house that I’ve seen so far. Above the bar is a rack of pots and pans, and down at the end hangs cooking utensils. The counters and cabinets are a polished wood.

Worry starts to set in when I realize that we’re stuck here for God knows how long. From the rumors in town and his behavior so far, I don’t take Alexander for being a people person. I’m sure having a strange woman and her two kids thrust upon him isn’t something he’s looking forward to. I look down at the kids. I hate to impose on him, but it’s not like we have a choice in the matter. Staying in our car until the roads are clear enough for someone to help isn’t a choice. We’d freeze out there.

My thoughts are interrupted when I feel something bump my leg. Looking down, I’m startled to see a pair of green eyes looking up at me. It’s a medium-sized dog with longish black hair, sitting on its haunches with its tongue hanging out the side of its mouth. I almost laugh at the comical look.

“Hey,” I say calmly. When Daniel makes a move to get up to see what I’m talking to, I tell him, “You stay there.”

He whines, but stays put. I need to make sure this dog is safe before I allow my son to come near it. I squat and hold out my hand and the dog immediately comes over and licks it. Its tail is wagging as it butts my hand with its head.

“Hmm… are you a boy or a girl?”

It doesn’t take long to figure out it’s a girl, as she flops to her back, then rolls over, showing off her swollen teats.

“You’ve just had puppies,” I murmur, rubbing along the side of her belly.

I laugh when she wiggles her back around, almost splitting herself in half sideways. I look over when Daniel walks up beside me with a big smile on his face. I can’t scold him for not waiting for me to say it’s safe for him to come over. Although he’s plenty short enough for the dog, Daniel gets down on his knees. When the dog bounds up and starts licking his face, he laughs, bringing a smile to my face.

I get up from my crouch and face Kelsey. “Would you like to come pet her?” When she shakes her head, I try enticing her with, “She just had puppies.”

Her eyes light up fractionally before she looks down at her mug still half-full of cocoa, the look disappearing. A twinge of pain hits my chest. She should be down there with her brother, enjoying playing with the dog. She should have friends. She should be doing sleepovers and pillow fights. Not sitting there looking like this is her last day alive. I want to rush to her and gather her in my arms, promise her that everything will be okay. But I don’t. I baby her enough, and don’t want to smother her. I have to pick and choose the times I coddle her.

I turn back and watch Daniel roll around on the floor with the dog jumping around him. I laugh when his giggles get louder. I grab Daniel’s and my empty mugs and carry them over to the sink. There are a few other dirty dishes sitting in the sink, so I decide to wash them. It’s the least I can do after everything Alexander’s done for me and my kids.