At seven minutes past nine, the power went out in Mooselick River and wouldn’t come back on for nearly a week. The house went dark and so silent we could hear the shush of wet snow slapping against the window panes. Next to me, Molly let out a quiet woof, then wiggled her butt into my side to get a bit closer.
“You don’t realize how many appliances have lights on them until they all go out,” Drew’s voice came out of the darkness to my left. Unnerving when even though his body touched mine, I couldn’t see him at all.
“Light pollution. It’s a thing.”
The two minutes before the generator kicked on seemed like they might stretch on forever. Maybe it wouldn’t come on, that little annoying pessimist in my head insisted. Then it did. Lights flared, appliances beeped. Once again, I blessed Catherine Willowby, my ersatz benefactress, for sparing no expense when making her home something of a fortress. My parents had installed a similar system in the fall, and it cost, if not an arm and a leg, at least a finger and a toe.
Rising, Drew made the rounds to reset all the clocks that flashed the wrong time while I grabbed my phone and checked the Mooselick River community Facebook group. “At least my phone can get online. There are trees and lines down on just about every road in and out of town,” I reported when he returned. “They’ve recalled the road crews because it’s too dangerous to plow. I need to check in with all of the tenants.”
My job as property manager for Leo Hansen paid better than it should, but then, Leo took good care of his properties, and so long as I kept the tenants off his back, considered the money well-spent. I’d had worse jobs, I decided, as the blanket text went out to those who used cell phones. Only two current tenants still had landlines, but both were in multi-units, so their neighbors could confirm that the generators were on.
One by one, the responses came back. Each taking a bit more worry off my mind.
“David’s good,” Drew reported. “He’s making jokes about living in the Overlook.”
“So long as no creepy twins show up, I guess he’s safe.” My phone dinged with another text notification. “Patrea just checked in. All’s well at the farm. My parents are good, too. Just waiting for Jacy and Neena to give the all-clear.” I got up and went to the front windows, hoping to see Neena’s lights flicker on across the street—if I could even see that far with the amount of snow coming down.
Drew’s phone signaled again.
“Brian,” he announced. “They’re fine. Jacy’s checking in with her folks. Anything from Neena?”
“Not yet. Hush, girl. It’s okay,” I soothed as a muffled thump from outside set Molly barking and sent my heart rate speeding. “Was that a tree?”
“Could be. I’ll check.” Drew headed toward the coat closet.
“No,” I grabbed his arm. “It might not be safe.”
Chuckling, he grabbed what he’d gone in there for. His high-powered flashlight. “I was planning to stay on the porch.”
Even so, I watched out the window and when the light popped on, got a glimpse at the changes wrought since a wall of unrelenting gray clouds sent the first snowflakes drifting over town. The power wires coming in from the pole bowed under the weight of the snow-formed tubes coating them. It would be a wonder if they didn’t break.
Unable to help myself, I stepped outside with Drew to listen to the creak and pop of branches sagging under the growing blanket of white. One of the birches on that side of the house stooped until its lower branches caught in the wrought iron of the backyard gate. It was silly, but the urge rose in me to shake off the snow so the tree could find the sky again before it toppled.
“It’ll hold, I think.” Drew must have known something of my thoughts because his tone reassured me almost as much as the arm he slung around my shoulders. Turning, he aimed the light across the lawn and driveway to play it over the garage roof where a large fir bough lay half-buried in a furrow of snow. “That must have been the noise we heard. If we’re lucky, that branch will be the only thing that falls.” He angled the light higher. The pine towered over the garage, its top higher than the light could shine.
“There’s nothing we can do about it now except maybe stay away from that side of the house in case it falls.”
Shrugging, he followed me back inside. “It’ll hit the garage first.”
Somehow, with both our vehicles parked inside, that thought failed to offer a basic level of comfort. I’d hardly had my new car long enough to break it in. Still, better to lose a vehicle than part of the house.
Since Neena hadn’t answered my text and even from the porch, I couldn’t make out whether or not her generator was running, I called. When it rang until her voicemail picked up, worry crawled up and wrapped its icy hands around my throat.
“That’s it.” I headed back toward the coat closet. “I’m going over there. She’s probably hanging off the dining room light again.”
Drew stepped in front of me to block my way while he looked at me with puzzlement. “Why would she do a thing like that?”
“Never mind. I can’t just sit here if she needs help.”
“Why don’t you call Dolly? Ask her to go over and check on Neena. Snow shouldn’t bother a ghost.”
“If I do that, she’ll stay. For hours. Or at least as long as it takes to give me a rundown of the top ten snowstorms in Mooselick River history. Do you want that? Do you? Because I certainly don’t.”
“I’ll go.” He shoved past me to grab his boots and coat.
“And leave me here alone to imagine both of you in trouble. Nope. Not happening.” I darted around him and snatched up my own boots. “Besides, the visibility sucks. You could get lost and end up wandering around until you freeze to death. I’ve read Little House on the Prairie. I know things like that happen.”
That earned me a quirked grin. “This isn’t the prairie. I think I’ll be fine.”
“If you’re going, I’m going with you. We’ll tie a rope around the post on the front steps so we can find our way back.”
Later, I’d have to give him credit for not laughing in my face as he indulged my latest flight of fancy. “If that makes you feel better. I’ll grab a coil of climbing line, and we’ll go see if Neena’s okay.”
Ten minutes later, regret weighing nearly as heavy as the wet coat on my back, we wallowed through sixteen inches of ever-deepening snow on our way to Neena’s front door.
“See, I wouldn’t have lost my way. It’s a straight shot.” Her house loomed before us while the rope I’d insisted on using trailed behind.
“Fine. Be right about that if you want, but I don’t hear her generator, and I don’t see any lights, do you?”
Maybe some of my worry translated to him because his negative response came in a subdued tone. Once we’d fought our way up the front steps, he banged on the door and called her name loudly. I should have brought her key.
After a minute passed with no response, he didn’t bother hiding his concern. “I’ll go around and check the other door.”
“Not by yourself, you won’t. Where you go, I go.”
Why we hadn’t strapped on snowshoes was one question I barely had the breath to ask myself as I tried to follow his footprints down Neena’s driveway. When I slammed into Drew’s back, even that one went right out of my head.
“What’s wrong?”
“I heard noises in the garage.” He changed direction abruptly, and I followed. When we got closer, ours weren’t the only footprints through the snow. A set led from the direction of Neena’s back door. Relief replaced worry.
“Stupid contraption.” Neena’s voice, raised in anger, sounded like angels singing to me just before Drew yelled to announce our presence.
“Need some help?”
It wasn’t any warmer in the garage, but at least snow wasn’t blowing in my face.
Neena stood in the pool of light created by a battery-operated camping lantern, her face a mask of fury tinged with despair.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said to Drew. “And annoyed that I need you.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I think. What’s the problem?”
“How should I know? Hudson and his dad set this thing up. They bragged for weeks about routing the exhaust, adding a smart panel to the system, and how it’s just the right size for the house and uses far less fuel than one of those on-demand types. You’d think it was a contest or something, the way he went on about it. I followed the instructions, which he painted on the door, even. Switch the power from house to generator, make sure it’s full of gas, set the choke, and push the button to start.”
So saying, she jabbed the start button. Nothing happened. “So why doesn’t it start? Hm? Why? And don’t you dare say it’s a man thing. I shouldn’t have to have a penis to push a button.” Turning, Neena kicked the door that gave her access to the lean-to enclosure.
“No. Of course not.” Drew held back any comment that might put him in danger. Couldn’t say I blamed him. “When was the last time you started it?”
She looked at him like he’d asked the most obvious question in the world. “The last time the power went out.”
“That would be last winter? More than a year ago.”
“Yes. That’s right. Why?”
“Well, I hate to say it, but I suspect your battery is dead. Want me to pull-start it for you? I promise not to use my penis.”
His attempt at humor was ill-timed, but after glaring at him for a moment, Neena stepped back and let him do what needed to be done. The engine roared to life, and the lights came on in the house. After a moment, he set the choke and closed the door. “All set.”
“Thanks.” Calmer now, Neena pushed a dark curl off her forehead. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cause offense to your manhood.”
“None taken,” Drew smiled. “Once the storm is over, we’ll see about replacing the battery.”
“No, really. I’m sorry I snapped at you. You guys took the time to check on me, and I acted like a shrew.”
Because she seemed to need it, I hugged her. “We’re here for you. But if you feel the need, you could repay our kindness by making those amazing wings the next time we have game night.”
“You’re so easy. I can always buy you with food,” she joked. We’d been through a lot since we’d met right after I moved back to town, and there was a time not so long ago when I wasn’t sure if our friendship would survive.
“They’re really spectacular wings. Call if you need anything.”
“Have you heard from everyone else? Jacy?”
“Brian checked in. They were waiting to hear from Jacy’s folks. Patrea and Chris are good. David’s hunkered down at the inn. All the tenants and my parents reported back.”
“Good,” Neena nodded. “Eddie Mason nailed it when he predicted this storm, didn’t he?”
“They should put him on the news.”
With that, we headed back out into the weather. An inch of new snow had already begun to fill in our tracks, and it took Drew a minute or two to find the coil of rope he’d left just outside because visibility was worse than it had been.
Back at home, Molly danced through the snow we tracked inside, then ran out and sailed off the front steps when Drew held the door open. The look of doggy surprise she shot back over her shoulder spoke volumes.
“I’ll shovel a spot for her while you check in with Jacy. Then, I’m thinking hot cocoa and a DVD.”
“You’re on.” But I took a few minutes to sweep snow out of the hallway and shed my wet clothes first. Finally beginning to warm up, I stood near the heat vent and read through the texts that had come in while we were gone.
We’re fine, Jacy had written. One of the birch trees crushed Wade’s swing set. A photo in shades of blue and black accompanied the text. And there’s another one on the back deck. Brian says it took out two sections of railings, but he thinks that’s the worst of it.
—Tell Wade Auntie will get him a new swing. We have a branch on the garage roof and just got back from Neena’s. Drew had to pull-start her generator. Otherwise, we’re good. Your folks okay?
—Mom’s worried about her garden, but Dad’s taking it all in stride. As usual, they’ve got all the unprepared neighbors over there. The house is full.
—That should keep her too busy to worry. I answered, thankful that everyone I loved most was okay.
News reports called it the worst spring storm in fifty years. Grammy Dupree would have rated it at a solid three-bathtubs on her scale of how much water it would take to get through the storm.
