Frostbitten (2 page)

“I’m sorry, Anastasia,
but this can’t wait,” Mr. Lockhart said, while releasing his seatbelt. 

When Anastasia opened
her mouth to protest, it was already too late. Her grandfather was out of the
car and marching toward Mr. Stone. She quickly turned off the car’s engine and
rolled down the window. She wanted to make sure her grandfather was okay, but
at the same time, she had a feeling that she shouldn’t interfere.

“Hey, you!” Mr.
Lockhart called out to Mr. Stone.

Mr. Stone turned around
and greeted him with a tight smile. “Fredrick, how are you?”

“Cut the bullshit,
Herb. I want to know what you’re playing at. There’s no way you can be making a
profit at your store.” Mr. Lockhart suddenly turned his attention toward the
flyer Mr. Stone had attached to the lamppost. “You can’t be serious!” he
yelled, while ripping the flyer off the post. “You’re cutting and selling your
own lumber now?”

Mr. Stone tore the
flyer out of his hand. “It’s a free country. A man can make a living any way he
wants, especially on his own land.”

“I’m surprised you know
what freedom is!” Mr. Lockhart continued to bellow. “Didn’t you spend half your
life locked up in some jail cell?”

Anastasia knew that her
grandfather was being irrational, and it looked as if the situation would soon
get out-of-control. In an attempt to prevent the impending fight, she hurried
out of the car. Then suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks.

The most gorgeous boy
Anastasia had ever seen was coming out of Rural Mart, carrying a bulging bag of
groceries. He was tall – at least six feet – and very well-built with broad
shoulders and a straight posture. His striking, chiseled features and unruly
dark brown hair gave him a unique appearance that was rugged and manly.
Nonetheless, Anastasia sensed that he wasn’t that much older than her, and with
heightened curiosity, she watched as an expression of concern washed over his
face as he hurried to Mr. Stone’s side.

“My past is none of
your business,” Mr. Stone snapped, finally getting as angry as Mr. Lockhart.

“Maybe not, but your
shady business practices concern me and Rural Mart,” Mr. Lockhart shot back.

The two men stepped
closer to each other, but before anyone could throw a punch, the boy placed his
hand on Mr. Stone’s shoulder and urged him back. The boy said nothing; instead,
he gave Mr. Stone a serious look.

Mr. Stone stared
silently at the boy for a few seconds and then returned his attention to Mr.
Lockhart. “Get out of my way, Fredrick,” he seethed, before taking leave of the
situation.

The boy followed Mr.
Stone, but before entering a truck marked
Stone’s Hardware
, he stopped
to look at Anastasia, as if noticing her for the first time. His gaze was
intense and unwavering, like he was savoring everything about her, from her
eyes to her lips and even her very soul.

With a quickening
pulse, Anastasia stared back at him. He was so undeniably sexy, but it was his
eyes which made her breath catch in her throat. Shining a light shade of blue,
they instantly drew her in and refused to let go. The sudden urge to get closer
to him was so strong that she unconsciously took a step forward.

“Anastasia!”

Anastasia turned around
to see that her grandfather was already in the car, and from his expression,
she easily guessed that he wasn’t happy with her.

“Stay away from that
boy,” Mr. Lockhart ordered Anastasia as she entered the car.

“Grandpa,” she began,
wanting to ask if he was alright after his encounter with Mr. Stone.

In response, Mr.
Lockhart turned on the car radio and increased the volume.

Anastasia took the
hint.

As they drove through
the newer part of downtown, Anastasia stared out the window, watching as the
hospital, police station, bank, and a few franchises blurred by. She wasn’t
concentrating on her surroundings, though. Her mind was too preoccupied with
thoughts of that mysterious and alluring boy. She assumed that he was Mr.
Stone’s son, but if that was truly the case, why hadn’t she seen him before or
even heard a whisper about his existence?

They arrived at the
Lockhart residence ten minutes later, but to Anastasia, the car ride felt much
longer. Although her grandfather had calmed down, he still wasn’t his usual
happy self. He seemed distant, as if he had a lot on his mind, perhaps more
than just his recent run-in with Mr. Stone. Either way, as Anastasia stood
before her grandparents’ house, she was relieved to be out of the car.

The area was set aglow
by all-season solar lights which lined the path to a charming two-story house.
It was a lovely, secluded property situated on three acres of land, with the
nearest neighbor being a ten minute walk away. An abundance of tall trees
surrounded the house, adding extra privacy and making it appear as if it
belonged in its own little world.

“Everything looks so
magical at this time of year,” Anastasia commented, realizing that she’d never
been to Cedar Falls in the winter. “I see Grandma’s still collecting those lawn
ornaments,” she added in amusement, while looking upon the numerous gnomes
which were covered in snow. Their red pointy hats, which poked out from the
snow, were the only sign of their presence.

“You know how your
grandmother acts around gnomes,” Mr. Lockhart said, shaking his head.

“Ohhh, they’re just
darling!” Anastasia and Mr. Lockhart said in unison, mocking Mrs. Lockhart in a
joking manner.

As if on cue,
Anastasia’s grandmother, Mrs. Rose Lockhart, opened the door, the interior
lights illuminating her as she stood upon the threshold. She was of medium
height, somewhat plump and had short red hair which was only starting to turn
gray. Just like her husband, she hadn’t changed at all.

“Anastasia!” Mrs.
Lockhart cried, before hurrying out into the snow with slippers as her only
means of footwear.

“Hi, Grandma,”
Anastasia greeted with a smile, noting how her hug felt warm and loving, just
like it always had.

“What took you two so
long? I was starting to get concerned.”

“Let us get inside,
Rose,” Mr. Lockhart complained, obviously avoiding her question.

Anastasia looked at her
grandfather, wondering if he was keeping secrets from his wife. After all,
almost getting into a fight was a big deal; she certainly knew that much.

“Silly me,” Mrs.
Lockhart said with a laugh as she guided Anastasia inside.

The house was
comfortably warm, inviting and had a pleasant aroma, like pie had recently come
out of the oven and apple cider was brewing. Everything about the house was
perfect, from the carefully matched country-inspired décor, to the immaculate
upkeep of it all. It was clear that Mrs. Lockhart still took great pride in her
home.

“It’s so wonderful to
have you here,” Mrs. Lockhart said as she took Anastasia’s coat and hung it up.

“Thank you for having
me,” Anastasia replied in a slightly rehearsed tone. “It means a lot to me and
my mother.”

Looking sad for a
moment, Mrs. Lockhart opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted as Mr.
Lockhart came in with Anastasia’s luggage.

“It’s going to be a
cold night,” he said. “I hope you brought suitable clothing.”

“She’ll be fine,” Mrs.
Lockhart answered for Anastasia. “I have enough warm garments to clothe an
army.”

Anastasia forced
herself to smile. Although she loved her grandmother dearly, she wasn’t quite
ready to adopt her high-waist denim and gingham blouse type of style. “I should
probably start unpacking,” she said, while taking the luggage from her grandfather.

“Dinner will be ready
in half an hour,” Mrs. Lockhart stated, “and after that, I have a special
dessert.”

Anastasia looked at her
grandparents. “Thanks,” she said sincerely.

“My darling, you
already said that,” Mrs. Lockhart commented with an amused smile. “You know
you’re always welcome here.”

As Anastasia walked
toward the bedroom on the main floor, she thought about her grandmother’s
words. For a very long time, she hadn’t felt welcomed anywhere. It was amazing
how much could change with a few kind words and gestures.

When Anastasia entered
the bedroom, it was like she’d traveled back in time. This room, which once
belonged to her mother, had been Anastasia’s during her summer visits. It was
eerie to see everything exactly how she’d left it so many years ago – three
teddy bears sat on the floral bedspread, staring at her with glassy eyes; CDs
featuring long-forgotten artists were piled next to an over-sized boom box;
even the rocking chair was still in the corner, seating a collection of fashion
dolls.

Anastasia’s attention
was particularly drawn to the white dresser, where several framed photographs
were carefully arranged. She smiled as she looked at a photo of herself and
Chloe Fairbanks – her former best friend in Cedar Falls. They were at the
carnival, and Chloe had a painted butterfly on her cheek, while Anastasia wore
a clump of bright pink cotton candy in her hair – unintentionally, of course.
Next, she looked at a photo of herself and her grandparents in Cedar Falls
Lake. They’d been fishing for minnows, and by the proud smile on her face, she
knew that she’d caught some in her small net. Finally, she laid her eyes on a
much older photo. It was of her mother and grandparents in happier times.

Unable to look at that
photograph any longer, Anastasia turned around and was met with a reflection of
herself. She stood before a mirror, and as she looked at her green eyes, long
reddish brown hair and tall, slender build, she saw what her grandfather had
seen earlier today – she was the spitting image of her mother when she was a
teenager.

The last time I looked
into that mirror, I’d seen an innocent twelve-year-old girl,
Anastasia thought with tears in her eyes.
Now, look at me. Look at what I’ve
become.
Not wanting to accept that she’d lost such a wonderful part of
herself, she hastily turned away from the mirror, wiping her tears on the
sleeve of her black hooded sweatshirt.

That night, dinner
tasted as delicious as it smelled. Hungrily, Anastasia ate the lasagna,
savoring the sweet spices which made her grandmother’s meals so special.
Although everyone was obviously enjoying the food, not much was said. It was
almost as if her grandparents didn’t know what to say. Of course they made
light conversation, but no real questions had been asked. Not that Anastasia
was complaining. She was the last person who wanted to talk about the last few
years of her life. However, her grandparents’ blatant avoidance of the subject
made it just as awkward.

After finishing the
main course, Mrs. Lockhart brought out dessert. “I remember how much you
enjoyed my cranberry pie,” she said, while cutting Anastasia a slice. “You used
to beg me to make it every night.” After a moment’s pause, she added,
“Cranberry pie was your mother’s favorite, too.”

As impossible as it
seemed, the atmosphere became even more uncomfortable. Mr. Lockhart cleared his
throat loudly, as if warning his wife to be quiet, but she refused to take the
hint.

“You should call your
mother to let her know you’ve arrived safely,” she advised Anastasia.

“I’ve already sent her
a text message,” Anastasia said, annoyed that the conversation was starting to
revolve around her mother, “but I doubt she’d care either way.”

“That’s not true,” Mrs.
Lockhart commented with a small frown. “Your mother loves you very much.”

Anastasia couldn’t help
but snort. “If she was a true mother, she wouldn’t have abandoned me. Everyone
goes through rough times, but a mother isn’t supposed to send her daughter away
for someone else to handle.”

“You’re tired,
Anastasia,” Mrs. Lockhart said softly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“No,” Anastasia
snapped, “you’re the one who doesn’t know what she’s saying. You have no clue
what my mother is like, and how could you? You haven’t seen her in seventeen
years!” As soon as the words had escaped from her mouth, Anastasia regretted
them. She looked at her grandmother, who was forcing back tears.

“Your...your mother has
done the best she can, especially considering her circumstances.”

“Grandma, I’m so
sorry,” Anastasia apologized in a hurry. “I always say the wrong things.”

“It’s alright,” Mrs.
Lockhart reassured her, even though she was obviously not okay. “I should start
cleaning up,” she added quietly, taking her dish into the kitchen despite the
fact that her slice of pie had gone untouched.

Silence followed her
grandmother’s departure, and although her grandfather continued to eat his
dessert as if nothing had happened, Anastasia’s head was lowered in shame. For
the second time that night, she felt her heart break. Of all the stupid things
she’d done in her life, making her grandmother cry was her worst crime. How
could she be so cruel to someone who had always loved and supported her?

Anastasia forced
herself to eat the pie, now unable to enjoy its sweet tartness. She’d already
ruined dinner, and she didn’t want to hurt her grandmother even more by not
finishing the dessert which was made especially for her. It was a small
gesture, but it was the best that she could do.