26
" We’d just settled on the couch to watch a horror movie--with a bowl of buttery popcorn between us--when Josh’s cell phone rang. He looked at it. “My dad.”
He answered. “Hey, Dad…no, I’m fine. After you called last night, I, uh, I actually came over to Ashleigh’s to make sure she was okay and the weather was so bad that I ended up staying.” He grimaced. “Yes, sir, I know. I behaved.” He rolled his eyes. “When will you be back?” He mouthed, “Tomorrow” and then said, “That’s what I figured. Snow has us packed in, so I’ll dig us out tomorrow.” He winked at me. "
― Rachel Hawthorne , Snowed In
27
" Are those--”
“Bats,” he said in a low voice, but he sounded triumphant.
While I was trying to decide whether to be amazed or terrified, I settled for being put out. “Bats are not rodents.”
“I know, but don’t they look like mice with wings? Pretty cool, huh?”
“Unless they wake up, swoop down, and attack us. Don’t they carry rabies?”
“That’s an old wives’ tale,” he said. “A very miniscule percentage actually have rabies. Watch this.”
Reaching up, he unhooked a bat from its perch.
“Are you insane?” I whispered.
“Shh. It’s okay. They’re hibernating.” He hung it on the sleeve of his jacket and held it up to my face. “Is that awesome or what?”
It was kinda awesome. I’d never seen a bat up close like this.
“Go ahead and pet it,” he said.
It looked pretty harmless. I reached out--
It released an ear-splitting screech and flew toward me!
I let loose a blood-curdling scream and found myself face down on the floor of the cave, with Josh lying on top of me, covering me, while the cave filled with the horrendous echoing of a thousand angry wings.
When things finally quieted, we scrambled out of the cave, sliding down the snowy embankment until we landed on even ground.
I was breathless, my heart beating so hard that I figured it would wake up all the hibernating creatures within a five-mile radius.
Laughing, Josh dropped back in the snow, like he was planning to make a snow angel or something. But I figured that was the last thing on his mind.
“They’ve never done that before. Scared the crap out of me,” he said.
I figured I’d just scared ten years off my life expectancy. I was shaking, and it wasn’t from the cold. "
― Rachel Hawthorne , Snowed In
32
" Hey, sleepyhead,” Mom said brightly when I walked into the kitchen.
I grunted. Tara handed me my coffee mug. I filled it quickly, added my milk and sugar, and took my first sip.
“Watching Ash drink coffee is kinda like watching a werewolf movie,” Tara said. “You can see the transformation from man into beast.”
“Except for me, it’s beast into girl, I know,” I said sourly and took another sip.
“Want some pancakes?” Mom asked.
“No, thanks.” I leaned against the counter.
“They’re really good,” Josh said. He was watching me like he was hoping to see the transformation that Tara was talking about. "
― Rachel Hawthorne , Snowed In
36
" Night had fallen, and I was in the kitchen making a yummy peanut butter and jelly sandwich when I heard the doorbell. I jumped and my heart gave a little kick. This was so a horror-movie scene--bad weather, and a girl cut off from the outside world.
Only killers didn’t usually ring the doorbell.
Still, I opened a drawer and took out the meat cleaver Mom used for cutting chicken. The doorbell rang again and kept ringing.
“All right already,” I muttered as I hurried down the hallway.
I hesitated when I saw a large shadowy form behind the etched-glass window of the door. I’d turned on the porch light, and whoever was there blocked most of it.
“Ashleigh!” The figure banged on the door and I nearly dropped the cleaver.
Josh. My beating heart should have returned to a normal speed, but it didn’t. I wasn’t ready to face him yet. I jerked open the door. “What?”
Covered in frost and snow, he edged past me. “Geez, it’s cold out there.”
“And you just brought the cold inside.” I shut the door. “What are you doing here?”
“My dad called and--what the hell is that?”
He pointed to the cleaver.
I angled my chin. “I was in the middle of cutting my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
“With a meat cleaver?”
“It’s quick and makes a perfectly straight cut.”
He grinned. “Yeah, right. You’ve obviously watched too many movies. Who’d you think I was? Freddy Krueger?”
“What are you doing here?” I repeated, not in the mood for his sarcasm or teasing. Plus I was feeling a little silly holding my weapon of choice. "
― Rachel Hawthorne , Snowed In
39
" What are you doing here?”
“My dad called and--what the hell is that?”
He pointed to the cleaver.
I angled my chin. “I was in the middle of cutting my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
“With a meat cleaver?”
“It’s quick and makes a perfectly straight cut.”
He grinned. “Yeah, right. You’ve obviously watched too many movies. Who’d you think I was? Freddy Krueger?”
“What are you doing here?” I repeated, not in the mood for his sarcasm or teasing. Plus I was feeling a little silly holding my weapon of choice.
“Like I said, my dad called. The ferry shut down before they could get back. I decided to check to make sure that you were okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“The storms here can get pretty intense, and if you’ve never been through one”--he dropped his gaze back to the cleaver--“I just thought you might get freaked if you were all alone.”
It was nice of him to worry about me but totally unnecessary.
I sighed. “I’m fine, thanks. You can go back home now.”
“You’re kidding, right? Did you not look out there?”
“It’s snowing.”
“It’s a blizzard. I’m not going back out.”
“You’re not staying here.”
He raised an eyebrow. “This is an inn.”
“Not yet. We’re not officially open for business.”
“Tough. It’s easy to get disoriented out there. Last year a guy froze to death three feet from his front porch.”
“Call a taxi.”
The other eyebrow shot up. “Is this any way to thank me for showing concern?”
“You know, I think you probably came over here because you were afraid to be alone.”
“I really did want to make sure you were okay.”
“You could have called.”
“It’s not the same.”
I didn’t want to admit to him that a little part of me was glad not to be alone anymore. Because the wind was loud and now that it was right, it was scary.
“Oh, all right.” Besides, if the ferry wasn’t running, the taxi probably wasn’t either. “Come on. I’ll split my sandwich with you.”
“I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich, and I’m really in the mood for something warm. "
― Rachel Hawthorne , Snowed In
