A Gift of Snow

A Gift of Snow

It’s Christmas Eve and Jennifer Donovan is
alone. A sudden, strong blizzard has left the mountain submerged in
snow and closed the roads up or down, ruining her mother and
sister’s plans to come up to Jennifer’s cabin. Resigned to keeping
warm and entertaining herself for the night, she’s startled by
someone pounding on her front door—a handsome stranger needing
shelter from the storm. Will is the opposite of Jennifer’s late
husband and awakens a passion within her that she welcomes, even
though it takes her by surprise.

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The right of Missy Maxim to be identified as
the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with
the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

First printed 2010

First Edition

All characters in this publication are purely
fictitious and any resemblance to real persons--living or dead--is
purely coincidental.

By Missy Maxim

Published by Missy Maxim at Smashwords.

Copyright 2010 Missy Maxim

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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 into the kitchen.

“What were you doing on the road in this
storm?” I filled another bowl.

“Had a gig up at the resort earlier. Was
supposed to be a quick thing and I’d drive back down to L.A. The
storm came out of nowhere.”

“You couldn’t leave that thing in the car?” I
asked, nodding to the guitar case.

He shook his head. “It’ll crack in the cold.
I flipped burgers all summer for that guitar when I was sixteen.
Where I go, she goes.” He took a seat at the table and tucked into
the stew. “Thanks.”

“Not used to snow, are you?”

“Not in a long while.” He offered his right
hand. “I’m Will, by the way.”

I shook it. “Jennifer Donovan.”

“Pleased to meet you, Jen. And thanks for the
stew. You got anything to drink?”

“Uh, I can make tea or cocoa, or coffee if
you want to wait.”

“Maybe something a little stronger to warm
the blood.”

“No.” There would never be alcohol in this
house again. I stood, collected the empty bowl, and walked to the
sink to rinse it. “You’re going to have to be warmed by
temperature, not alcohol.”

“Okay… Cocoa would be fine, then, if you have
any of those little marshmallows.”

“Sorry, I only have the big ones, and those
are going on the yams tomorrow.” I lit the fire under the
teakettle.

“Right…it’s Christmas.” Poor guy looked as
bummed as I was.

I felt a spark of compassion and remembered
my manners. “You can use my phone to call home if someone will be
worried.”

He shook his head, not meeting my eyes. “Just
me.”

“Oh.” I knew how that felt right now. “So,
you did a concert, huh? What do you play?” I sat at the table.

“Well, for this kind of deal, just some
classic rock stuff and holiday tunes. They like some background
noise up at the lodge and prefer it’s live. I was available.”

“Didn’t they offer you a room for the night?
The storm’s been on the news.” The kettle whistled. I prepared the
mug and set it in front of him.

“I was, uh, kind of anxious to go. My ex’s
family runs the joint.”

“Oh. Awkward.” A thought occurred to me and I
blurted out, “Your feet! I mean, you’ve probably got snow in your
boots. You should sit by the fire and dry them out…if you want
to.”

“Thanks. Eh… I don’t suppose you might have
some pants I could borrow? I’m a bit soaked.”

“Oh! Deep snow drifts. Duh, of course you
are.” Could I sound like more of a ditz? “I’ll go look.”

The bottom drawer of my dresser was filled
with old stained stuff, like for painting the house and working on
the car. It had a mix of mine, and Lee’s, and I hadn’t thought
about it at all until now. The only clothes of his left in the
house were in that drawer. I was
not
going to cry when I
opened it.

Gripping the knobs, I pulled the drawer open.
Started pulling clothes out on the floor and finally found a pair
of sweats with a drawstring waist. They only smelled like the cedar
insert I kept in the drawer, too, so all the better.

I brought them out to my guest. “Here ya go.
They might be a bit big, but you can cinch the waist. Bathroom is
down there.”

He smiled, taking the pants. “Thanks.” It was
a nice smile, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

Without the blanket wrapped around him, I
could see his jeans were wet up to waist level. They hugged his
skin. He must be freezing still.

“Use a towel if you need it,” I said.

Needing something to do, I remembered my own
food and reheated my bowl and mug while he changed. It was such a
weird night. The storm, being alone, a random stranger showing up
at my door…all on Christmas Eve. He came back out carrying his
jeans and sweater, wearing a tight long-sleeve black undershirt and
the sweats loose on his waist. His socks and boots hung off his
arm.

I took the wet stuff into the laundry nook
and tossed his jeans and socks in the dryer, then took a look at
the sweater. It required a lower heat setting, so I hung it up and
started the machine. He was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, the
blanket draped over him, when I walked out.

Amazingly, it was only around eight o’clock.
“It’s a bit early still. I have movies.”

“That’s a nice tree,” he said, looking at the
Christmas tree in the corner. “Smells real.”

“Of course it’s real. I’m surrounded by
forest. My mother and sister were supposed to be here tonight,
but--”

“The storm. Isn’t it a pain all winter,
havin’ to shovel snow off the driveway just to get your car
out?”

I sat on the other end of the sofa. “Can be,
with a heavy year, but I like it up here. It’s peaceful, I have
good neighbors, the air’s clean… Lee and I came up for a weekend
once, saw the house for sale, and knew this was where we wanted to
be. Just me now, though.”

“It is a nice place. Cozy. I’m more the urban
type.”

“Gee, wouldn’t have guessed.”

He chuckled, a rich sound. “Guess it is a bit
obvious. Nothin’ wrong with a getaway now and again, but I get
bored. And small towns don’t offer much for musicians.”

“There is that. Are you looking to get
rich?”

“Nah, just work steady. Wouldn’t say no,
but…as long as my belly’s full and the rent’s paid, it’s really
about the music. Sharing that harmonic connection.” He shifted to
face me more easily. “What do you do, Jennifer?”

“I’m a writer. Fiction, now, though I used to
do op-ed stuff in college.”

“What genre? Maybe I’ve read something.”

“I really doubt it.” He didn’t look like the
type to read sci-fi.

“Naughty romances?”

“Why do men
always
have to jump to
that conclusion?” I snapped.

“Sorry! My mistake. I was just teasing,
love.”

I released a breath. “I’m sorry. Touched a
nerve.” Lee wanted me to switch to a genre that paid more, back
when. “It was hard to find a publisher.” And
they
had me
write under a non-feminine pseudonym.

“So…what’s your niche, then?”

I chewed my lip. “Science fantasy. Sometimes
for teens.”

“Oh. Well, you’re right. I’ve never read it.
So, space age stuff, with aliens and distant planets?”

“Sometimes. Living here helps with the work.
Few distractions.”

“Makes sense. Are you working on a book
now?”

“Not for a while. I’m on a break.” More like
the muse dove off a cliff.

“Ah.”

We lapsed into silence, watching the crackly
movie. I studied him out the corner of my eye. He was built nice,
if you liked the slim look. Visible muscle definition through the
snug shirt. I hadn’t looked close enough to see what color his eyes
were, yet. His hands were large, dwarfing the mug in his grasp,
with long fingers and short nails.

“Do you think it’ll snow all night?” he
asked.

“Maybe. Even if it doesn’t, the plows won’t
come out on the roads until daylight.”