She all but ran past Owen’s bedroom, rapped a few times, and kept moving. “Get up!”
Downstairs, she shoved her arms into her heavy coat and pulled on her warm boots.
“What’s going on?” Owen’s sleepy voice accompanied the look of him in flannel pajamas and tired eyes.
“Snow. Tons of it. I need to shovel the driveway to get out.”
Owen moved to the window and smiled. “Is school canceled?”
“How do I know? Do they announce that somewhere?”
“Check your phone. I think the school calls with announcements.”
She started back up the stairs, yelled behind her, “I know work isn’t canceled, so get dressed and help me shovel.”
Sure enough, the school had sent an automessage, informing her that Owen’s district was canceled for the day, making sure all parents knew that a day would be tacked on at the end of the year to make up for it.
Owen was back in his room, pulling a sweatshirt over his head.
“One of us gets to play hooky.”
“Nice!” Owen beamed with excitement.
Rachel opened the garage door and sighed. “How the hell am I getting to work?” Two feet of snow blanketed everything, and it had blown up against the house, leaving drifts closer to thirty inches. The road hadn’t been plowed yet. “Damn, damn, damn. I should have set my alarm an hour early.”
She dug in the back of her car and found the chains Jason had given her as a thank-you, and removed them from the bag. There weren’t any instructions, just warnings that using the right size chains for your car was imperative for safe driving. In big red letters the bag told her not to exceed thirty miles per hour. “Shit.” Getting to a plowed road and removing them would have to happen. “Still gonna be late.”
The garage door opened and Owen walked out. “Wow.”
She glanced up from where she was laying the chains behind her tires so she could drive onto them before securing them.
Owen had his cell phone in hand. She’d bet money he’d already posted pictures on Instagram.
“Grab a shovel, dude.”
The previous owners had left an old, rusty flat shovel, but not one of those broad ones used for snow. Owen picked it up and dug in.
There wasn’t enough room to back onto the chains until some of the snow was cleared.
“Why don’t you just call in sick?” Owen said after they’d been shoveling for ten minutes. All Rachel had to work with was a pointy-head shovel that didn’t move much of anything.
“Because I told them I’d be there.”
“Are you going to take the train?” Owen leaned on his shovel and pulled out his cell phone.
“I can make it.” She kept shoveling.
“I don’t know. This looks pretty bad.” He turned the screen toward her and showed her all the red on the freeways.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
Owen blinked at her a few times, the snow dropping around them in big flakes.
“Why don’t you get ready for work, I’ll do this,” he told her.
She looked down at the jeans she’d tossed on. “Good idea. Thanks.”
Sitting over a cup of coffee and the newspaper on his tablet, Jason watched the snow from the kitchen window. How he’d loved the first snow of the season as a kid. The land surrounding the house was nothing but a sea of white that screamed for him and his brothers to go and sled, build stupid snowmen . . . bury each other in it. He remembered Shadow, a big black lab that bounced around them during snowball fights, chasing the ammo they tossed at each other.
The ranch had plenty of great memories.
The screen on his phone flashed, and Owen’s name popped up. You work in the city, right?
Yup, why?
Two seconds later Owen sent a picture of Rachel’s car in her garage, snow piled up around a partially cleared driveway.
Jason left his coffee and grabbed his keys.
On my way. Don’t let her leave.
Owen’s response was a thumbs-up emoji.
Did Rachel really think she was driving in to work?
When he arrived, she had backed onto the chains and was attempting to secure them around the wheels. The task wasn’t easy for a seasoned player; for Rachel, Jason imagined it was nearly impossible. He pulled his Jeep up along her driveway and kept the engine going.
“Hey, you.”
Rachel looked up. “What?”
Jason waved, glanced at Owen, and smiled.
She stood and turned to Owen. “Did you call him?”
Owen grinned. “Maybe.”
“Need a ride?” Jason walked up the drive, his boots sinking into the snow.
Rachel’s cheeks were red from the cold, and the snow caught on the edges of her hair sticking out from the beanie on her head.
She glanced between him and Owen, then at the road beyond.
“We’re headed in the same direction, Rachel.”
She stared at her car. “Fine.”
When she turned to grab her purse, Jason stuck his hand out for Owen to slap.
Rachel paused next to Owen. “Stay warm, have fun, don’t get hurt.”
“Got it.”
Jason walked her to his Jeep and opened the door.
“Hey, Rachel?” Owen called out.
“Yeah?”
“Stay warm, have fun . . . and don’t get hurt.”
It was good to hear her laugh.
Jason tucked behind the wheel and waved as they pulled away. “He’s a great kid.”
“I can’t believe he called you.” She pulled off her gloves and removed her hat. The static in her hair had it going everywhere.
“I can’t believe you were going to drive in this.”
“I would have made it.”
He laughed. “By noon tomorrow. Were you really going to drive all the way in?”
The four-wheel drive ate the snow as they drove through. He couldn’t imagine a two-wheel-drive anything doing the same.
“That’s what the chains are for, right?”
“Chains will help you around town, to the train station.”
Rachel tensed, looked out the window. “We’re taking the train?”
“Yup.”
He heard her gulp.
“It’s gotta happen sometime, hon.”
“Oh, geez.”
He reached over, patted her hand resting in her lap. “I’ve got ya covered. Don’t worry.”
Still, she fidgeted all the way to the station.
By the time they parked, the lot was nearly full. Jason had come to the conclusion that Rachel reacted to anxiety with silence. She’d offered one-word answers to his questions on the drive and flexed her fingers many times, as if easing her tension.
He walked her through the process of buying a pass for the train, not that she couldn’t figure it out. But since her eyes were wide and constantly looking around, he felt the need to point everything out.
“There’s a lot of people,” she said as they waited on the platform.
“Driving in on a day like this isn’t smart. Not only would it take you hours, but the chance of someone driving you off the road is too great.”
She forced a grin and stepped closer as other people pushed in.
“You’ll get used to it,” he said when the train rolled up. “And the pickpockets are all sleeping in.”
She hesitated.
Jason took her hand and pulled her inside. They were early enough in the run to have open seats, which he took advantage of.
The trains and subways leading into the city had changed over the years, cleaner and safer . . . a place where everyone from street performers to politicians could occupy the same space with the same goals.