That was the thing about Lolly Helton. Even as a little girl, she’d been so convinced that she was so much better than everyone else in town that nothing he or anyone else had said to her had put a dent in that superiority. Her father was the mayor, and she never forgot it, or let anyone else forget it. If she’d been especially pretty, or especially smart, or anything else out of the ordinary maybe she’d have been more popular in school, but there hadn’t been anything special about her. He remembered her frizzy brown hair, and that nothing she wore had ever looked very good on her, and that was it. Well, except for the way her expression had said Eat shit and die, peasant.
There had to be something wrong with him to actually feel a sort of anticipation at seeing her—and probably arguing with her—again.
Keeping a steady hand on the wheel, he switched the radio from XM to a local station so he could catch any weather updates. Within a few minutes he left the city limits of Wilson Creek behind, speeding up to gain whatever extra seconds he could. Another kind of anticipation built inside him, sharp and strong. Sam. He was going to see his kid again in just a few minutes, and his heart began pounding with joy.
Four miles down the road he turned between two huge spruce trees onto a concrete driveway. Behind the spruce trees was a sprawling white house with neat black shutters and a three-car detached garage. The back door was already slamming open as he lurched to a stop, a small, dark-haired dynamo erupting from the house yelling, “Dad! Dad!”
Gabriel left the truck running and leapt out, barely in time because Sam launched himself upward. He grabbed the kid out of midair, and skinny arms wrapped around his neck so tightly he could barely breathe. He didn’t need to breathe. He just needed to hold his son.
“We got out of school early!” Sam said, beaming at him. “There’s going to be an ice storm. Gran’s making plenty of soup, because she said we’d probably need it.”
“That’s good to hear,” Gabriel said. Sam was wearing a coat but it wasn’t zipped, and the hood had fallen back so the cold rain was falling on his bare head. Gabriel pulled the hood up, then opened the truck’s back door to grab his duffel, shouldering the door shut. Holding his son in one arm and the duffel with the other, he ran through the rain to the back porch. His mother was standing there, trim and capable-looking in her jeans and boots, the wide smile on her face not quite disguising the concern in her green eyes.
“He wouldn’t wait,” she said, throwing her arms around Gabriel and hugging him, then planting a swift kiss on Sam’s cheek as well.
“Ah, Gran,” he said, squirming, but he didn’t wipe his cheek. Gabriel grinned, remembering how mortifying it had been at that age for his mother to kiss him. Sam might as well get used to it, because nothing stopped Valerie McQueen from kissing the people she loved.
He dropped his duffel, set Sam on his feet, then squatted and began rifling through the duffel for his knife and flashlight. “The coffee’s almost ready,” his mom said. “I already have one thermos filled with soup, and here’s one of your father’s insulated rain ponchos.” She gave him the poncho, then turned and hurried back into the kitchen.
“Thanks,” he said, hoping he wouldn’t need it. His boots were all-weather and insulated, so his feet should stay warm and dry, but he tucked an extra pair of socks in his coat pocket, just in case. His coat was thick and heavy and he had gloves in the truck, as well as a blanket that Sam had shoved under the backseat over a year ago and which he’d never gotten around to dragging out. He figured he was as ready for a quick trip up the mountain as he was going to get.
“Where are you going?” Sam asked as he watched the preparations. “You just got here.” Disappointment laced his tone, edging into sulky.
“I have to rescue a woman from her house on a mountain,” Gabriel replied, keeping his own tone brisk so Sam would know this wasn’t the time for an argument, but he put his arm around him for a quick, hard hug. “I don’t want to leave either, but when something needs doing, someone has to step up and do it.”
Sam mulled that over. With Gabriel being career army and his grandfather a sheriff, in his short life he’d heard a lot about responsibility, and seen it in action. He might not like it, but he understood it. “Is she hurt?”
“I don’t think so, but your grandpa wants me to get her before the ice storm leaves her stranded.”
Sam gave a solemn nod. “Okay,” he finally said. “If you have to. But be careful.”
“I will,” Gabriel promised, wanting to grin but keeping his expression grave. His little guy was learning how to step up to the plate himself.
Valerie returned, and he stood to take the two big thermos bottles from her. “Be careful,” she said needlessly, echoing Sam, but now that he was a parent himself he understood that the worry never stopped, no matter how old or how capable he was.
“Aren’t I always?” he asked, knowing that would make her roll her eyes, which it did. He kissed her cheek, then knelt to give Sam another, extra-big hug. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Can you take care of Gran until then?”
Sam nodded solemnly, and he squared his thin shoulders. “I’ll do my best,” he replied, though the look he gave his grandmother said that he doubted he could control her. Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek to hold back a grin.
“Bring Lolly here,” Valerie said briskly. “Don’t try to take her into town and then make it back. We have plenty of room and plenty of food, so there’s no point in pushing your luck with this weather.”