Chapter Two
For some reason, I was getting very warm. I slipped off my coat and folded it in my lap. At least it gave my hands something to do.
Nick glanced over and smiled. I wondered what he thought of my dress. Black, crushed velvet with lace at the collar and cuffs. Mrs. Thompson’s idea of what an orchestra should look like.
He’s not thinking of your dress, I told myself. You are not the center of his universe. Get a grip and stop acting like a silly fool.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to relax. The inside of the car was immaculate. I could tell that he really loved it. Not a speck of dirt anywhere. Dirt wouldn’t have dared.
He’d gone all out. Diamond tuck and roll leather upholstery. Chromed shifter on the floor. An aftermarket stereo system that was currently beating out heavy metal at a lowered decibel level.
Yes, definitely a pretty hot ride.
I thought of all those afternoons I’d spent with my dad.
A preacher doesn’t make a lot of money. He’d taken a second job as a mechanic at Eddy’s service station. I would spend Saturdays at the shop with him. Handing him tools. Listening to the men talk.
It was one of my favorite memories.
Besides, a girl picks up a lot of important information in a garage. The benefits of a standard shift over an automatic. The majesty that was the V-8. The best oil weight in winter. You know. Important things.
Leaning back, I shut my eyes for a moment.
I might have fallen asleep for a little bit. Okay, longer than a little bit. It had been a long day, and my stress meter had been pegged out for a while.
I startled awake, some sound, some change in the car’s motion.
My hand immediately went to my mouth to make sure I hadn’t drooled or anything. I reached down to make sure my dress hadn’t ridden up, exposing too much.
Great!
“Afternoon, Cupcake,” he said with a smile.
I sat up straight and tried to look like I hadn’t been asleep for the last hour. Just real quiet.
A burning shame flashed through me. I’d fallen asleep in Nick Parson’s car. He could have looked at me at any time. This was not the way things should be.
“Hey,” I said, as a thought popped into my head. “Why were you there?” I asked. “In Ellensburg?” Why hadn’t I even thought of that before? It was too weird.
Nick chuckled. “Jimmy,” he said. “My little brother. He plays percussion.”
“Oh, yes,” I responded. How could I have forgotten? Of course.
“I’d come over for the weekend. I was visiting someone at Eastern Washington University. But, she had to go home for Christmas. I thought I’d check out Jimmy’s concert, then give him a ride home.”
All I heard was ‘she’ and ‘weekend’. So typical. A college girl. Of course. It couldn’t be otherwise.
“Anyway,” he continued, “Jimmy didn’t want a ride. Something about a girl named Bethany and this was his big chance to talk to her.”
I laughed. I knew the situation pretty well. Everyone did. They both had giant crushes on each other, but were both too scared to ever do anything about it.
“Thank you. Lucky for me. That you were there,” I said, then asked him how he’d known about Billy and my refusing a ride.
“I saw you in the parking lot. It was pretty obvious what was going on. You did the right thing by the way,” he added. “Billy Timms isn’t the best of drivers even when he’s not stoned out of his mind.”
“Well, thank you anyway,” I added.
“No problem, Jenny,” he said without taking his eyes off the road.
My heart jumped. He knew my name.
“You know my name,” I said before I could stop myself. Sometimes my mouth has a habit of running on its own power.
He laughed, then looked at me strangely. Like I’d grown a third head or something.
“We’ve gone to the same schools for twelve years,” he said. “Of course I know your name. I might not be a brainiac like you. But, I’m not an idiot. You spilled cupcakes on me in third grade. Remember? We had English in Miss Anderson’s class in seventh. You gave that presentation on Romeo and Juliet. Of course, I remember your name. Besides. I make it a point of knowing the names of all the pretty girls at school. It’s sort of a hobby of mine. Or, maybe an obsession.”
My heart stopped for a moment. He’d done it again. Called me pretty. This time, I was sure my hearing was working correctly.
Me, the preacher’s daughter, with mousy brown hair and what I would consider an average body. A little on the lean side. Although, a few more curves than prior years. The girl who wore conservative clothes, dresses to the knee or jeans, never too tight.
Me, Jenny Brewster, pretty.
My insides got a warm glow. Then, I remembered who I was dealing with. Was this Nick Parsons being Nick Parsons? Just a line. Laying the groundwork for seduction.
Deep down, my soul responded with joy at the thought that Nick Parsons might think of me that way. Then, I thought of the long drive in front of us and quickly brought myself back to reality.
Nick leaned forward and flicked the windshield wipers on. Big, fluffy snowflakes were beginning to fall. The size of marbles. Fluffy and wet. The kind perfect for snowmen and snowballs.
My heart grew with pleasure.
A white Christmas. I seriously love snow. Especially on Christmas. It hides the blemishes, and layers the world with a new blanket of pureness.
Smiling to myself, I sent up a silent prayer of thanks.
“Damn,” Nick cursed, as he began to pump the brakes.
I didn’t even have time to cringe.
In front of us, a red pick-up truck was fishtailing across the road like a long lost salmon looking for home.
Black ice, I thought, as my pulse began to race. Could Nick avoid the truck? Would we get in a crash two hours from home on Christmas Eve?
How was I going to explain that to my parents?
Nick kept control and slowly brought the car to the side of the road. The truck wasn’t so lucky. As we watched, it slid across the road and nosed first into as deep ditch.
The sound of metal ripping from metal made my back teeth shiver.
I gulped, and was about to ask what we should do, when Nick turned to me and said, “Stay here.”
Before I could tell him not to order me around, he reached back and grabbed his leather coat out of the back seat and was half-way across the road.
No way was I staying there. Someone might be hurt.
I got out, climbing into my coat as I did. The snow was still falling, the air had that cold bite that let you know it was the dead of winter and worse was to come.
Nick slid down the side of the ditch and reached the driver’s side. Twisting back towards me, he yelled for me to call 911.
My heart raced. Were they dead? Hurt?
Taking my phone from my coat pocket, I made the call.
It took me a moment to find a mile marker so I could tell the dispatcher where we were.
She thanked me and said they’d have someone there in a few minutes.
After I hung up, I slid down next to Nick. He reached out an arm and stopped me from falling on my butt.
My breathing stopped, and my heart skipped into overdrive at the feel of his arm wrapped around my middle.
Once I was steady on my feet, he let me go and focused on the situation at hand.
I won’t say I was disappointed. But, I might have been.
The driver was hurt. He’d hit his head on the steering wheel. A nasty gash was leaking blood down the side of his face.
Steam hissed from the radiator, giving off that oily water smell that told you the engine was toast. The front quarter panel was scrunched up like an accordion and the wheel was tipped to the side. This truck wasn’t going anywhere by itself for a while.
Nick strained to open the door.
“Are you all right?” he asked, as he gently laid a hand on the man’s shoulder.
My stomach was turning over as I tried to remember my Girl Scout first aid course.
I needn’t have worried. Nick took care of everything.
He reached over and turned the engine off and then stopped the man from leaving.
“No, stay there until the ambulance guys can check you out,” he said, as his hand kept the driver in his seat.
“Do you hurt anywhere else,” he asked, “besides your head?”
The man’s eyes looked glassy and unfocused, as he shook his head. Then said, “Legs sore.”
Nick nodded, then pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and held it against the cut in the man’s head. Once he’d stopped the bleeding, he shot me a look, nodding his head slightly, letting me know that he thought things would be fine.
I swallowed hard and tried to not shiver in the cold afternoon air.
“Who has a handkerchief?” I asked. As always, I forget what is important and focus on the unusual. Especially when I am stressed out to the max.
Nick laughed, and his cheeks flushed a little.
“For traffic accidents,” he said, as if I was an unusually inept idiot.
I swallowed hard and ducked my head so that he wouldn’t see how embarrassed I was.
“That,” he continued, “and I use it for wiping dust off the car,” he added with an embarrassed shake of his head.
Of course, why hadn’t I thought of that? What else would he have a handkerchief for?
Clamping my mouth shut before I said anything else dumb, I stepped back and gave him some room.
Other people had stopped at the edge of the road. Concerned, worried looks on their faces. They yelled down asking if things were okay. If we needed any help. I felt good inside seeing that people responded positively. It was snowing, it was Christmas Eve, yet they stopped to help.
Nick assured them things were fine and that the ambulance was on its way.
It felt like three hours, but was probably closer to ten minutes, before we heard the sirens in the distance.
When that cop looked down from the road edge, I felt my insides relax for the first time since I’d seen the truck slipping on the road.
The EMTs slid down and relieved Nick.
He stepped back and observed them for a moment, as if he wanted to make sure they knew what they were doing. I took his arm and pulled him away. They had it now. It wasn’t his responsibility any longer. He could relax.
“Let’s give them some room,” I said.
Nick nodded then helped me up the bank of the ditch. A warm feeling traveled from where he held my arm. I swallowed and tried to ignore it as I made the top.
The cop took a quick statement then asked us to wait in the car in case he had any more questions.
When we got into the car, Nick started it up and put the heater up to high so we could warm up.
I wrapped my arms around my stomach and tried to stop shivering. I didn’t think it was just the cold. Maybe the shock was hitting me a little.
Glancing over at Nick I noticed that he had that faraway look people get when they are deep in thought. My curiosity ate at me, so I asked, “What you thinking about?”
He smiled weakly and shrugged his shoulders.
“I was thinking how that could have been us. A few seconds later and I could have hit that ice. If I hadn’t seen that truck, I might not have slowed down.”
I nodded, as I thought about the scrunched up pick-up.
“Understandable,” I said. “I know you’ve put a lot into this car. It would be such a shame to see it ruined.”
Nick grimaced and said, “I wasn’t thinking about the damn ... sorry, darn, car. I was thinking about if that was you sitting there bleeding. It could have been. A few seconds and our lives are different.”
My first thought was that I was surprised that he had picked up on my aversion to cursing. I didn’t think I had even mentioned it. My second was to realize that he was worried about something happening to me.
Okay, how cool was that? Nick Parsons knew who I was and worried about me. Like I said, pretty cool.
I fought hard not to smile too big.
We sat in the car for almost an hour, waiting for the tow truck to show up, and the cop to finish with things. The snow had stopped, thankfully. But, the skies looked like they wanted to start again at any moment.
I kept flashing to my parents, and the fact that it was Christmas Eve. My brother and sister would be hopped up on Christmas adrenalin. Bouncing off of the walls with excitement and bugging my parents endlessly.
The house would smell of pine from the tree. The decorations up since the day after Thanksgiving. Christmas carols would be on the stereo and mom would be cooking in the kitchen. Dad would be working in his study, going over his service for the night.
My heart ached with the knowledge of what I was missing.
Sighing, I laid my head back and tried to rest. It was funny, I thought, I wasn’t nervous around Nick anymore. It was like we had shared something and broken through a barrier. The silence no longer felt prickly and awkward.
Well, at least not the same level of nervousness.
A tap on the window brought me back to reality.
The Police Officer had a few more questions, then told us we could go on our way.
“Where you guys headed?” he asked, as he wrote in his notebook.
“Seattle,” Nick answered, as he reached for the ignition. “Everton, just this side of it.”
The Policeman paused then shook his head.
“Not tonight, you’re not,” he said. “The pass is closed. This storm’s already dumped six feet of snow, and they expect another six before morning. No one is getting over the pass tonight.”
My heart fell into my shoes. No! This couldn’t be happening.