though only her watch gave much assurance that the sun was overhead somewhere.
None of the news services had predicted this pre-Thanksgiving storm in the Rocky Mountains that had swooped out of nowhere and swallowed them in its howling maw. If she’d had any warning, she would have cancelled her speaking engagement at YMCA of the Rockies, stayed snug in Denver and dealt with her daughter’s attitude in the comfort of their own home.
“Can’t we turn around and go back?” Caroline’s mocha-brown gaze pleaded with her mother.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Laurel shook her head. “We must be getting close to Estes Park. It’s safer to try to get that far and take shelter than to head home and hope we drive out of the storm.”
Caroline scowled and let out a loud sniff. The girl had made no secret that she didn’t want to come along on her mom’s speaking engagement to the “praying and graying set.” She’d begged to stay with their next door neighbor Janice, Laurel’s best friend, like she often did when her mother traveled. Laurel hadn’t consented this time, for her daughter’s own good—or so she’d thought. In twenty-twenty hindsight, Caroline physically safe with Janice trumped Laurel’s intention to use this trip as an opportunity for a heart-to-heart.
She spared a glance toward the teenager’s sullen profile. Caroline was blooming into a pretty young woman, but at the moment she was more the pouty child. The girl’s dark expression drew lines across her high forehead beneath a sleek cap of honey-blond hair and pinched a slender, straight nose into a sharp beak.
Laurel swallowed a sigh. The onset of hormonal ping-pong, normal for a girl newly thirteen years of age, couldn’t be entirely to blame for the souring of her daughter’s formerly sunny disposition. The downhill spiral had begun a few months ago, about the time Caroline’s best friend moved away.
“I know you miss Emily,” Laurel said, “but that doesn’t mean you can let your schoolwork suffer. That D in biology has to improve after Thanksgiving vacation.”
Caroline groaned.
“Oh, come on, sweetheart. Buck up! You’re not alone in the world, you know. You have a solid support system. We can get you a tutor, if you need one, or a study group. In fact, something like that might be a chance for you to get out of your shell and make new friends.”
“Is that what your psychologist mind is telling you? That I’ve suddenly developed abandonment issues?” Caroline’s gaze narrowed. “If I didn’t freak out when my dad left us when I was three and never looked back, why would I lose it because Emily moved to Tulsa? I talk to her on the phone and online nearly every day.”
Laurel fixed her attention straight ahead, words churning for release behind her lips. What could she say that would pop the cork on whatever festered inside her daughter’s heart? In her speaker persona, Laurel was touted as the voice of calm wisdom to beleaguered single parents everywhere, but right now she didn’t have a clue how to deal with her own daughter.
Caroline threw her arms around herself. “Just for the record, Ms. Eldon is a head case. If you want to shrink someone, pick on her.”
“Your biology teacher? Is she hard to talk to when you need help in class? I met her at parent-teacher conferences. She seemed cool and aloof, but very knowledgeable.”
“Just your type, then.” Caroline waved a dismissive hand. “I’m sure you two hit it off.”
If her daughter had spewed curses at her, the pain would have been more bearable. Is that how Caroline saw her mother? Detached? Distant? Laurel worked hard at being reasonable...approachable, especially with her daughter.
Laurel swallowed and raised her chin. “Ms. Eldon’s personality isn’t the issue here. Your grades are important, young lady. You don’t have to like your teacher in order to do your schoolwork. This getaway to the mountains—away from distractions—should provide time for you to buckle down and study.”
“Only if we get there ali—” A scream rent Caroline’s words.
Laurel echoed her daughter as something large and dark darted out of the ditch and paused in front of them. She hit the brakes and the shuddering car skidded into a doughnut on the snow-glazed roadway. Laurel’s stomach leaped into her lungs, and her pulse jackhammered.
Help, God!
The car abruptly crunch-slid to a halt on the gravel verge facing the wrong way on the wrong side of the road. A few thuds from the trunk told of their luggage shifting. Laurel sat, staring straight ahead, arms rigid, fingers melded to the steering wheel. The creature that had been on the road in front of them was gone.
Caroline whimpered. “What was that thing?”
“Probably a deer.” Laurel inhaled long and hard, sucking her stomach back into her abdomen. “We can thank God we’re not stuck in the ditch.”
“Or smashed at the bottom of a cliff.”
“That, too.”
“Or wrapped around a tree.” The girl’s tone edged toward hysteria. “I don’t think we can make it to Estes Park.”
“We’re going to be fine, baby girl.” Laurel made herself speak firmly, confidently, like she addressed the audiences for her speaking engagements. God, help me keep that promise.
Had Laurel dragged Caroline on this trip only to kill her—kill them both? The bass roar of the ceaseless wind taunted her question, rumbling like an endless sinister chuckle.
Stop it! She shoved dark thoughts away. “God’s grace has seen us this far. He’s not about to abandon us. Check your phone to see if we have cell service yet. It would help if we could let someone know where we are.”
Laurel resisted the shove of the wind as she guided the car back onto the tarmac and into their proper lane. Rudolph himself would have been grounded in this weather. A snicker rose to Laurel’s lips, but she suppressed the sound. Caroline would think her mother was succumbing to blizzard madness.
“No service,” Caroline said, tone dull.
“All right, then. If Estes Park is too far, we need to find other shelter. Be on the lookout for a residential driveway. A few hardy folks live out here.”
“K.” The single syllable sounded more upbeat.
Psychologically, in a tense situation, it helped to have a concrete goal toward a solution. Laurel schooled her breathing to remain deep and even.
“There, Mom! On my side of the road. Looks like a driveway.”
Laurel took her foot off the gas and coasted the vehicle, gaze searching the swirls of white. Sure enough, a patch of gray-black widened to their right, and a small sign listing a property address number winked between snow gusts. Did she dare hope they’d found a haven? Her heart rate fluttered. But what if this was someone’s vacation getaway, and no one was home? No matter. Her jaw firmed. They’d break in if necessary. This situation was life-or-death.
“Good girl.” Laurel cramped the wheel to the right.
The rear tires fishtailed, but the nose of the car plowed faithfully into the turnoff. At least the driveway—which stretched on farther than she could see—was paved. The owner must be quite well off
