Page 2 of A Not So Merry Rescue
Isn’t that what the kids say? “Drop me a pin of your location.”
“Hold on.” The man’s voice is anything but soothing. There’s a rustling on the line, the least bit reassuring as the seconds tick away and more time gets added to my destination.
Closing my eyes, I pinch my nose, delving deep for strength I don’t possess. If only I had waited until tomorrow morning to get on the road. But no, I had to leave tonight, to not waste a paid night at the cabin.
“You there?” The deep baritone brings me back to the current situation.
“Yep.” My attempt at peppiness falls flat. “Still here. Where here is, I don’t know.”
“You got an iPhone?”
“Yes.”
“K. Can you share your location with this number?” He rattles off a string of numbers, but it’s too fast to catch them.
“Wait. Too fast. I didn’t even get the area code.”
A heavy sigh tumbles over the line, ratcheting my panic. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
It takes a minute to catch on to what he means. Remembering I stashed it earlier, I snatch the pen from behind my ear and hold it over my palm. “Ready.”
Slowly, he gives me the ten digits. I make sure not to smudge them before I can get them inputted into my phone.
Once I’ve shared my location, he confirms, “Gotcha. You’re not far from the shop. Probably be like twenty minutes. Thirty at the most with the snow. Sit tight. Name’s Beckett.”
“I’ll be here. Trying not to freeze to death.”
The deep timbre of his chuckle radiates through me, bringing a sort of comfort unusual for the situation. And ironically, heat. “How much gas you got?”
I glance at the dash. “One hundred miles. Hope that means something to you.”
“Keep it running. Not like you’ll be driving it away from the scene.”
I cringe, and a deep sigh expels. “Most likely not.”
“K. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Be safe.” The declaration falls from my lips uninhibited. But seriously. If he’s not safe, he won’t be able to rescue me.
“I’ll do my best, ma’am.” The line goes dead.
At least he’s courteous.
From the back seat, I grab my winter coat, slipping my arms into the sleeves and zipping it closed. It’s confining and uncomfortable, two things I hate with a passion, but I’d rather be stifled than freezing.
With nothing but time to kill, I exit out of the Maps app and pull up the phone. My sister’s probably done putting the kids to bed.
She answers on the second ring. “Taking a break on your road trip?” she guesses.
“Something like that.” No doubt she’ll hear the defeat in my voice. She knows me too well. Hazard of being a twin.
“Why so glum, Willafred?”
“Well, Clementine, which part of the bad news do you want first?”
“The worst. Duh.”
Her words bring a grin to my lips. When you start with the worst, the top of the list never looks as dreary. I’m not sure it applies in this situation but can’t hurt to try.
