Page 4 of Dear Handy Silver Fox
Her eyes grow wide as saucers, and she yells, “Don’t read that!”
Too late.
I recoil a bit at the force in her voice. “Why not? It’s addressed to me.”
She lunges off the counter and charges the few feet across the kitchen towards me to grab my phone, but I hold it out of her reach. She jumps a few times, trying to grab it, but her fingers barely graze my forearm.
I don’t understand what is going on. Why would she write this letter and send it if she didn’t want me to read it?
“Why don’t you want me to read it?”
“Because—" She jumps a few more times but still can't reach it. "I wrote it, but I didn’t intend to send it to you.”
“But you did.”
“It was an accident.” She jumps again.
“So you didn’t mean what you put?”
She stops trying to grab the phone and steps back from me. “You already read it?”
I don’t have to respond for her to see the answer on my face. She opens her mouth to speak, just as there’s a flash of lightning and all the lights go out.
4
CAMMIE
For once in my life, I’m actually grateful for the storm outside, and whatever just happened that knocked out the electricity at this exact moment. I can’t believe I wasn’t able to retrieve the email that was sent out. Right now, the only good thing is that he hasn't run screaming from the house, but that could be in part to the storm outside.
"Cammie?" Sam asks his tone calm.
I don’t want to answer him.Maybe I can be the one to make a run for it?But lightning decides this is the best moment to flash and light up the dark kitchen, showing him that I’m still there.
“Cammie, are you okay?"
I shake my head, not caring that he can’t see the action. “Not really.”
“I mean with the storm.”
“Oh.”
Three loud echoing booms of thunder overhead make me jump and reach out for Sam. He doesn’t pull away. When I realize what I’ve done, I let go and start to step back, but he reaches out for my hand with his own. His grip on mine is strong and reassuring.
“I’m going to need to check out the fuse box downstairs,” he says, turning and walking away, but his hand doesn’t loosen its grip on me.
I'm pulled along with him, out the kitchen door, and over to the steps that lead down to the basement. He uses the flashlight feature from his phone to light the way down the steps and over to the fuse box. If I'd been alone when this happened, there is no way that I would have been able to find this.
I stand by, waiting for him to try and figure out what happened and if he can fix it. I can't help but smile at the adorable way he gets frustrated with the box after a few minutes, and the power still hasn't returned.
“I think that we are stuck with no electricity for now," he finally says, giving up. "I know that the fireplace is safe to use, and there is a dry pile of logs on the back porch.”
“Okay.” I nod, but before I can turn to say anything else, Sam takes my hand in his again and leads me back upstairs.
Our hands linked together feel so natural together. It’s hard not to let my mind pretend that he’s holding my hand for any other reason than he shares the same feelings I do. Thunder rumbles again, and Sam gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. For the first time in a long time, I don't feel afraid of the storm outside. I'm aware of it, and my brain is telling me I should be frightened, but I'm not. I don't feel the physical reactions of fear that I usually feel when I'm in a storm with Sam by my side.
I go to the closet in the living room and find a blanket and a couple of floor pillows for us to sit on while Sam gets the wood from the back porch. Neither of us says anything while he works to get the fire going in the fireplace. I sit back and watch the sinewy muscles in his shoulder move as he works and the sudden heat I'm feeling in my body has nothing to do with the fire that’s starting to build.
“You don’t have to stay,” I tell him, trying to sound like I will be fine if he did leave.
