The Carpenter & the Queen (11 page)

* * * * *

Paul had felt the storm coming since
yesterday, so he wasn’t surprised to see the freezing rain when he
drove to Claire’s. Claire and Sam had just finished supper when
Claire let him in. Paul could smell chicken. He wondered if Claire
was a good cook. She probably was, if the smells were any
indication. Maybe someday he would have a chance to find out,
although he wasn’t sure how he was going to work that out.

After she let him in, Claire went to clean
up the kitchen. Sammy, glassy eyed and sleepy, sat on the couch
with a blue blanket wrapped around him. His hair stuck up at odd
angles around his face.

“You look rough,” Paul teased gently.

“I’m sick.”

The boy stared in a sort of trance past Paul
into the air.

“I won’t bother you if I work on the shelves
here, will I?”

Sam shook his head.

Paul brought in the four pieces from the
back of his truck that he would attach onto the wall. He used his
stud finder to locate the right place for the brackets, then marked
the placement with a pencil he kept behind his ear. Sam slid to lie
down on the couch again, all the while watching Paul’s movements
closely. Claire came in and went to the couch, put a hand to Sam’s
forehead and frowned.

“No school for you tomorrow, young man,” she
said.

Sam didn’t even smile in response. The kid
really was sick, Paul thought.

“Do you need my help with anything?” Claire
asked Paul.

He checked the brackets he had just hung to
be sure they were sound. “You can help me mount the cabinets. I
need somebody to keep them steady.”

She knelt on the floor beside him.
Immediately, the air felt warmer. Her hair close to his face, he
could smell something sweet and fruity—probably her shampoo. When
she leaned in to tilt the cabinet for him, her shoulder pressed
against his. His level of distraction reminded him that it had been
a long time since he had been this close to a woman he thought
beautiful. He was so distracted, in fact, that he had difficulty
keeping the electric screwdriver on the screw. It slid off twice,
once scraping his finger. But finally, when the work was done, Paul
and Claire stood up to survey the built-in.

“We still have the upper units, of course,”
Paul commented. “That will balance it out better.”

“It looks great so far.”

Leaning down to study the finish on the
wood, Claire ran her hand with the grain along the top of the
cabinets, then traced the seam of two of the units with her index
finger. Opening a cabinet door, she inspected the shelves inside,
checking the supports. He had always wanted someone to appreciate
his work in this way. Paul felt as though time had stopped and he
was watching himself and Claire in the scene.

She flashed him a smile that immediately
turned into a questioning look.

Paul realized his mouth was open. “Sorry.
Just thinking.”

“You do beautiful work. I can’t wait to see
it finished.”

This was the perfect opportunity to ask her
out for the weekend. She could even bring Sam, if she needed to.
But he lost his nerve again. So many years of shutting people out
made vulnerability a Herculean effort.

“I’d better be going. Weather’s getting
bad.”

“Is it? I haven’t been out all day.”

“Ice storm, maybe.” Paul slipped on his
boots in the foyer.

“I’m glad I wasn’t planning on going
anywhere, with Sam not feeling well and all.”

“Well, if the roads get bad and you need
anything, give me a call.”

Paul gave Sam a small wave, which Sam
returned in even smaller scale.

“I appreciate that.” Claire’s polite tone
indicated she had no intention of calling him.

“My truck’s got pretty good traction with
all the sandbags in the back,” Paul continued. “So I could make it
out here, even if the roads are bad.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. But thanks.”

Her smile was tight and closed as she told
him goodbye. She was a loner, like him, he guessed, tired of other
people offering charity. He couldn’t blame her. He had preferred to
be left alone as well, until he met Claire. What a coward he was to
tell her to call, when he should be the one calling.

Paul chastised himself the entire drive
home. When something needed to be said, he could never say it. And
when he did speak, he said all the wrong things. He had a good
momentum going last month, but he had lost it now and he wasn’t
sure he could get it back.

13

Sam felt sick enough that Claire put him to
bed early. With the weather worsening, she was happy she wouldn’t
have to drive him to school in the morning, although school might
be cancelled anyway—all the better since that meant no work for Sam
to make up. As for the storm, she had medicine and the refrigerator
was stocked, so she wasn’t too worried. Whatever the weather might
do, she and Sam would wait it out. As long as they were warm and
dry, they had nothing to worry about.

She didn’t even worry in the night when the
electricity went off. Instead, she turned over in her warm bed and
went back to sleep.

A terrible crash outside the house a few
hours later finally forced her to emerge from her cocoon. Shivering
in the cool house, she peaked out the bedroom window but couldn’t
see what had made the noise.

“Mommy?”

“Don’t worry, honey!” Claire called back.
“Just stay where you are. I’m coming.”

Feeling her way out of her room down the
hall and into Sam’s room, Claire wondered how the house could get
so cold in just a few hours.

“What was that noise?” Sam asked when Claire
reached his bed.

“I don’t know. I couldn’t see anything out
the window. But I’m sure we’re fine.”

“It’s cold in here.”

“Yeah, the electricity’s out.”

“I’m scared.”

“Come get in my bed so we can both stay
warm. I’ll find the flashlights.”

She stumbled into the kitchen and pulled a
flashlight out of the drawer. Sam seemed relieved when she shone
the light into her own face so he could see her.

“We’ll be fine,” Claire assured him.

Once they were both in bed, Claire pulled
out her cell phone and dialed the power company to report her
outage. Maybe she could be one of the first on the repair list if
she called in the middle of the night. She might also get an
estimate of how long it would take to regain power.

The company’s automated phone system put her
on hold. Claire found herself dozing in bed with the phone pressed
to one ear. She wasn’t sure how long this had been going on when
her cell phone started beeping, indicating a low battery.
Obviously, she had fallen asleep, and before she could do anything,
the phone cut off, out of power. Just her luck. There wasn’t
anything to do except go back to sleep and wait for dawn.

When she awoke at dawn, the house was cold.
She would have to get a fire going in the fireplace, although she
wasn’t sure that she had any wood. Sam remained asleep. Claire
noted from his damp hair that his fever had broken during the
night.

She peaked out the windows and gasped to see
a world coated in at least an inch of ice. One of the big oak trees
at the edge of the lawn had lost a huge branch. That must have been
the crash she heard in the night. While the ice was pretty, Claire
fully appreciated how dangerous it was. No one, not even the
electric crews, would be making much progress on roads that
treacherous.

She went to the bathroom, deciding to take a
shower to warm up before checking on the wood pile she thought she
had seen back by the shed. The hot water heater was gas powered, so
certainly it would still work. But a surprise awaited her when she
turned on the shower. A little water came out, and the pipes made a
horrible sound; then the water stopped altogether. She was so used
to big city living that it didn’t occur to her until that moment
that she was on well water which, of course, wouldn’t pump without
power. This would be the perfect time for a generator, but she
didn’t have one, and even if she did, Claire had no idea how to
operate it.

She dressed quickly in several layers,
careful not to wake Sam. Hopefully, she could get some wood and
start a fire before he woke up. The garage seemed the best exit as
it wouldn’t require her to carry anything up the front stairs.
However, the garage door was electric. When Claire tried to pull it
up manually, she realized the rubber sweep was frozen to the
ground. The side door on the next level was coated in ice and run
off from a malfunctioning gutter. Her only viable exit was the
front door.

Claire stepped carefully onto the porch. She
kept a bucket of ice melting compound with a plastic cup in it near
the door. She scooped out the chemical with the cup and approached
the stairs to sprinkle the compound on them before she descended.
But as she placed her weight on her left foot, she felt her leg go
out from under her, slipping on a thin layer of ice she hadn’t even
noticed. What followed was the strange sensation of flying followed
by several hard blows on her right side, and then she couldn’t
breathe.

This must have been exactly how it had felt
for her grandmother when she fell years ago, and just like her,
Claire was alone. Not even Sam knew she was out there. Would she
die? What would happen to Sam? How long before someone found
them?

After several long, panicked seconds, she
drew a full breath and mentally took stock of her injuries. She
could move all her limbs. She was fairly certain now that she
hadn’t broken anything. However, the right side of her butt and all
down her leg right felt like it was on fire.

Using her elbows and moving slowly, Claire
sat up gingerly. This was a good sign, she decided. If her hip was
broken, she would probably be screaming in pain by now. Well, she
was in pain, but she wasn’t screaming. Panicking was an option,
though. With no electricity, no heat, no water, and no immediate
hope of getting a fire in the fireplace, the day looked grim. How
would she cook? And what about Sam? Although his fever had broken,
being without heat for a while could send him into a relapse. What
was she supposed to do?

She wanted to cry, but sitting on the ice in
the front yard didn’t seem a good place for that. So, scooting on
her left side over to the porch, Claire slowly drew herself up,
hanging on to one of the porch columns for support. She slid onto
the icy wood butt first, then pushed against the column to move
herself toward the front door. When she reached the dry portion
near the front door, Claire carefully opened the front door and
crawled in on her hands and knees.

She noted with concern that inside the house
wasn’t much warmer than outside. The house must have lousy
insulation. Wonderful. Another expense come spring. Slipping off
her boots, she slowly stood up and walked to the couch. Once
seated, she surveyed the house in the gray light. She was safe, for
the moment, which meant this was the perfect time to burst into
tears.

Claire was still sitting in the living room,
crying, when Sammy came out, wrapped in his blanket. Seeing his
mother crying frightened him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Claire sniffed and wiped her nose with the
back of her hand. “I just fell and hurt myself outside.” She gave
Sam a wobbly smile, even though she didn’t feel like it.

“How’d you do that?”

“I slipped on the ice and fell down the
stairs.”

Sam frowned. “Do you want me to look at it
for you?”

Claire had to laugh despite her
discomfort.

“No. Thanks, though. I’m going to go to the
bathroom and check it out myself.”

“The toilet is doing something funny,” Sam
informed her. “It doesn’t really flush.”

“That’s because we don’t have electricity or
water.”

Sam pouted. “I wanted to watch TV.”

“I know.” Claire walked carefully toward the
bathroom. “Give me a minute, and then we’ll create a game
plan.”

Once in the bathroom, Claire closed her eyes
and let a few more tears flow. Then, she pulled down her pants and
checked her injury. A red mark the size of both her hands traveled
from her butt down her right thigh. The injury was going to swell
and hurt like the dickens.

But what to do now? Having no water was a
major problem. The driveway was too slick to even get her car up
the slope and onto the road, so driving out of the mess wasn’t
possible. She could melt ice for water, but she wasn’t sure how
sanitary that would be, and she didn’t have any way to melt it
quickly, either.

At least she had milk in the refrigerator,
so they could have cereal for breakfast and go from there. Ice for
her bruise wouldn’t be a problem either. She could just go sit in
the yard.

All was not lost if she could crack a joke,
Claire decided. Still, sometimes being an independent woman had its
negatives. She needed help, but the one time she was willing to ask
for it, instead of pushing away Garrett or another benefactor, she
had no phone to call. Her land line phones were all cordless, and
her cell battery was dead. An image came to mind. She thought of
her drawing of the woman alone high in a tower, cold, surrounded by
snowflakes and disfigured by a stray pen mark. Claire had not
understood why she couldn’t discard the drawing until now. She was
that woman—cold, hurt, and alone with no help in sight.

* * * * *

Paul had given himself such a thorough
chastening for his cowardice that he went to bed early. Nothing
wore him out like mental self-flagellation. A light sleeper, he
woke up when the electricity went off. Grabbing the flashlight he
kept beside his bed for this purpose, he went to the garage and
flipped the switch to generator power. The heat kicked back on
immediately and the answering machine beeped as it regained power.
Yes, the generator was a good investment.