Page 1 of Grateful for You
1
Mason
Idrummed my fingers against the steering wheel. Route 3 was pretty empty, considering it was the busiest travel day of the year. There were a handful of people behind me, keeping their distance, and they were probably going way less than the speed limit. Whether that was because of the freezing rain or the Sheriff’s sticker scrolled across the sides of my car, I wasn’t sure.
The day before Thanksgiving was usually a busy day for every other police department. But here in Maple Grove, that just wasn’t the case. Most people didn’t speed through our town. Even on the outskirts, the 50mph road that led to Main Street hardly ever saw an accident or even any reckless driving. Maybe we were just lucky. But also, as the Sheriff, I instructed my officers not to worry about pulling over every little infraction. Most people were driving safely, even if they were going 10mph over the speed limit.
Just let it go unless it looks like someone is driving really dangerously, I instructed them each year.
Outside, the weather was turning gray, wind whipping and whistling through the trees, and little beads of ice and freezing rain were clicking against the hood of my car.
Damn.I thought maybe I could have the night off, but with the weather turning and folks trying so hard to hit their holiday destinations in good time? I wasn’t sure I’d be so lucky.
Route 3 was a small, two-lane road that was flanked on either side by tall trees, the occasional picturesque meadow, and not much else. It was known for a couple of things: moose sightings and, as the only road into and out of Maple Grove, my hometown.
Even though I was following the speed limit, I caught up quickly to the brown Nissan in front of me. Through the rear window, I could see the driver’s silhouette with wildly curly hair piled on top of her head, and beside her in the passenger seat, two pointy ears and the long nose of a dog looking excitedly out the rain-soaked window.
The car rattled, and smoke rings puttered out of the tailpipe, reminding me of an old grandfather puffing on a cigar.
But… the car was running. And as far as I could tell, I had no reason to pull her over simply because her car looked like it had seen better days. I kept a safe distance behind her back bumper, a few cars’ lengths, and followed as she crept closer to Maple Grove.
From the corner of my eye, I saw a gray-brown blur as a squirrel charged into the center of the road. I hit the brakes and screeched to a stop as soon as I saw the flash of red brake lights in front of me, but with her older car and its rear wheel drive, she spun out, her back wheels fish-tailing.
“No,” I hissed, watching, completely without control, as her car spun off the road and landed in a ditch.
2
Piper
Iclosed my eyes and turned the keys in the ignition, trying to start my car. It clicked… starting the radio, but there was no roar of an engine. No purring motor ready to keep driving me forward. I dropped my forehead gently to the steering wheel. “I’m thankful for my sister,” I said aloud. “And the fact that this piece of shit car has decent seatbelts.” I tugged the nylon that had burned as it stretched across my neck and sighed, looking in the rearview mirror at the red mark.Add it to the others, I thought, my eyes landing on the purple bruise and open cut on my temple to the left of my eye.
“Woof!” My eyes cut to Athena, my dog, sitting next to me buckled in, and I couldn’t help but smile despite all my bad luck.
“Yes, yes… and I’m thankful for you, Athena.”
It was important to remind myself that (despite this shitty year), I still had so much good in my life. Because on darker days, like today, that was easy to forget. It was easy to let the dark pit of depression swallow me whole and forget that I had hope and people who loved me. People who wanted to see me thrive. Or at least,aperson. My sister in Vermont. Through the years, I’d lost touch with most of my other friends who’d just given up the hope of me making time for them.
“Stay here, Athena,” I said, as if my dog was about to use her non-existing opposable thumbs and open the door to join me outside in the rain.
I threw off my seatbelt and jumped out of the car, searching for the animal that darted in front of my car. I’d swerved, trying not to hit it, but the second I started fishtailing, I had no idea if it had made it through unscathed. I wasn’t even sure what kind of animal it was—a raccoon, or squirrel, or cat.Oh, God, please let it not be someone’s cat. Maybe if it was hit, but alive, I could bring it to a veterinarian.
I scoured the road and didn’t see it there—a good sign. Maybe I’d missed it entirely.
A shiver wracked my body, and I hugged my arms into my chest as the frozen pellets of rain stung against my cut temple.
“Ma’am,” a deep voice said behind me. “Are you okay?”
I stole a quick glance over my shoulder at the voice but kept searching for the cat. If it was hurt, it couldn’t have gotten far. “I-I’m fine,” I said. “Just looking for the, um, the animal I think I hit…”
“Squirrel,” he said as I crouched and peered into off the shoulder of the road where a line of trees obscured my view deeper into the brush. “It’s fine. You didn’t hit it. It ran off that way.”
I exhaled deeply, closing my eyes. The moisture clinging to my eyelashes was freezing, turning them into little crystals that flaked onto the tops of my cheeks when I blinked. “Oh, thank God.”
“I’m not sure I can say the same for your car, though,” he said.
Relief relaxed my shoulders, knowing I hadn’t carelessly killed an animal the day before Thanksgiving. I turned to face him, to say,thank you for stopping, but the words froze in my throat as I was gobsmacked by the most fair, blue eyes I’d ever seen, a brown Sheriff’s uniform and badge, and a big shearling coat that did nothing to hide the bulk of muscles beneath it.
Nothing else he said registered after that, and I had to blink, shaking my foggy brain back into focus. “I’m sorry, what?”
