A Gift of Snow by Missy Maxim

A Gift of Snow
     
    Of all the days for a friggin’ blizzard. The
plan was to play the gig at the lodge and go home, but in trying to
leave, I came out to see my car already coated with snow. The road
wasn’t closed, yet, so I scraped the ice off the windows and
started the car.
    “Come on, baby, just get me down the
mountain.”
    I drove slowly, my tires crunching the snow.
Leaning over the steering wheel, I tried peering through the white
blur, the wind gusts sending the flakes sideways. The headlights
gave me maybe five feet ahead to see.
    “Not good, mate. Not bloody good.”
    Turned the corner.
    There was a streak of something crossing the
road.
    My car slid on a patch of ice into a drift.
Not hard enough to cause any damage, I thought, but I was probably
stuck without help.
    “Shit.” I pressed my foot down on the gas
pedal, but the tires just spun in the snow. “Wonderful.”
    The snow was falling fast and furious. I
could be buried in my car, or risk finding shelter outside. My
heater died two years ago, so that was no help. No blanket in the
car and only a leather jacket to keep me warm.
    “Here goes nothing.”
    I grabbed my guitar case off the passenger
seat, turned off the engine, and shoved my door open. Pulling the
hood on my sweater up didn’t give me much protection, but it’d keep
my hair dry for a little while. Carrying my beloved guitar, I
crossed the road toward flat ground and hoped I’d find a house
before I froze to death.
    ****
    Of all the days for a freakin’ blizzard. Mom
and my sister, Shelley, were supposed to come up for Christmas and
all the roads were closed.
    “I’m so sorry, Jenny, but with this storm,
they aren’t letting anyone up the mountain. Shelley and I will try
to come up as soon as we can.” Mom’s regret was clear over the
phone.
    “I know, Mom. It’s just that it’s Christmas
Eve. We’ve always had our tradition, you know?” I tried not to
sound too disappointed, but I don’t think she bought it. It was my
first Christmas without Lee.
    “Are you going to be okay up there alone
tonight, honey?”
    “Yeah. I’ve got plenty of firewood and stuff.
I’ll probably just pop in a movie and make some cocoa. See you
soon, ‘kay?”
    “We’ll try to head out first thing in the
morning. Merry Christmas, Jenny. We love you.”
    “Love you, too, Mom.”
    All alone on Christmas Eve. Bah humbug.
    The snow was already piled six feet high
beyond the shelter of the trees. The flakes fell sideways with
every wind gust. I flicked the radio on to try picking up a status
report, but all that came out was static.
    Everybody up here just had to huddle in and
wait for the plows to dig us out.
    “This monumentally sucks.”
    I walked into the kitchen to ladle some stew
into a bowl, then turned the crock pot off. The teakettle whistled
for my hot chocolate. I’d just settled on a showing of White
Christmas on TV when something pounded on my front door.
    “What the hell?”
    A dark, person-sized, shape stood at the door
to the snow room. I unlocked the door, the man darting into the
snow room as soon as I opened it.
    “What are you doing out in this?”
    “C-c-car broke d-down. Stuck,” the man said,
pointing off into the white. “S-saw your lights.”
    Stupid townies. Always thought they’d be the
one person to drive through a blizzard. “I’m about a quarter mile
in from the road. You’re lucky you didn’t wander in the wrong
direction.” I opened the house door. “Stamp the snow off your
boots. I don’t want you getting my floor wet.”
    “B-b-bless you, l-love. Thanks.”
    English, eh? What kind of moron came up to
the mountains in a leather jacket, a sweater, and jeans? He held a
guitar case.
    I left him on the porch and retrieved a
blanket. His coat hung on the rack and he’d pushed the hood of his
sweater off his head to reveal bleached hair. He had a nice,
chiseled face and the hairs trying to curl at his nape were cute. I
handed him the blanket and walked