PAPER STARS: An Ordinary Magic Story(12)
I followed her to the door so I could lock it behind her.
“He’s going to love that ugly tree.” She waved one finger up and down at me and smiled. “I like this look on you, Delaney.”
“What look?”
“Love.”
I tried to act annoyed, but couldn’t hold it for very long. She flipped up her coat hood and forged out into the wind and rain.
I stayed there inside the doorway, needing to see her walk down to the cruiser, needing to see her get in it, start it, and drive away safely.
Then I went inside and tried to keep my promises.
Chapter Five
I’d left the porch light on, and the fireplace still warmed the living room. Myra had left hours ago and I was curled up in a blanket on the couch with the stuffed eyeball Spud had offered me for comfort.
It was almost midnight and I couldn’t sleep. Tomorrow was Christmas eve.
The storm wasn’t letting up.
My phone in my hand was fully charged and utterly, exhaustingly silent.
So silent I’d turned on Ryder’s sound system and queued up a Christmas music playlist to take my mind off my worry.
It wasn’t working.
The song switched to Karen Carpenter’s soulful alto soothing her way through Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas. As soon as she reached the troubles being out of sight lyrics, I couldn’t stay still.
My troubles were right here in front of me. Or, really, that was the trouble. Ryder wasn’t here in front of me.
I got up and paced. The glittering, twinkling lights of the tree filled the room with a sense of promise, of miracles, of magic.
Before I could overthink it, I lay on my back and scooted under the tree. I spit a few dead needles off my mouth and wiped my face in case of spiders, then looked up through the branches.
Bundles of tiny lights spangled the tree in a fairy field of reds, blues, green, yellows, and purples. White twinklers winked like galaxies stirred by a winter wind.
Fir needles prickled against the light, shadows coyly curled around curved-mirror ornaments that hung joyful and fat.
It was beautiful.
I could see how this would enchant little Ryder. It felt private, hushed, magical.
Here under the tree was a secret moment where all the hopes and wishes of Christmas hung waiting on silvery hooks.
I’d told Jean I wasn’t going to wish for snow. I’d told her I’d use my wishes for more important things.
I’ll Be Home For Christmas started, and Ryder’s promise to be here, with me, echoed through me with every note.
So I made a wish.
Please let him be all right. Please let him be safe. Please let him call me so we can laugh about this. I need to hear his voice. I need to know he’s okay.
I repeated those words, over and over until the song ended.
And then my phone rang.
I scuttled out from under that tree so fast, I nearly tipped it over.
“Are you okay?” The words were out of my mouth almost before I’d swiped the screen to accept the call.
“Hey, beautiful.” Ryder’s words were a little slow, like he’d had one too many drinks. “Merry Christmas.”
“Where are you? Are you okay? Are you drinking? Drinking? You better not be driving.”
I couldn’t hear any noise in the background, which was a little weird.
“So, change in plans.” He cleared his throat, which turned into a hard rattling cough. “There’s been. Change.”
“Where are you?” I jogged over to my laptop, pinging Jean, who was on duty tonight.
Her face appeared in a little box on my screen. “What’s wrong?”
“Ryder’s on the line.”
“Your phone?”
I nodded. “His speech is slurred.”
She was already busy typing. “Keep him talking.”
“In my truck?” Ryder finally answered. “The…I must have blacked out for a minute.”
He coughed again and it didn’t sound good.
“Are you hurt? Honey. Are you hurt?”
I could hear his breathing, wanted him to answer, needed him to answer.
“Delaney?” he said it clearly, like he was trying to get a grip. “Right. I’m outside Sisters. Was…last I…before I blacked out.”
“The GPS on your phone is active.” I had resorted to cop-voice because any other voice would be trembling.
“Jean’s getting a lock on you. Are you on the road? Are you driving?”
“No? No. I got out. A woman and kids. Oh, hell. I need to check. They were stuck and I was pushing, pushed. The ditch.”
He grunted and I heard the creak of what I could only assume was his truck door opening.
“Ryder Bailey, do not exit your vehicle,” I ordered. Images of him on a precarious cliff or stalled in the middle of the highway, or stuck in a snow bank filled my mind.
“They were babies, Laney, just babies.”
“Who? The woman and kids you pushed out of a ditch?”
“Yeah.” He panted, each inhale hitched as if hooking on something sharp. “They were here…”
“Are you on the road? Do you see any markers?”
When he didn’t answer, I shot Jean a look.
“I don’t think he’s outside Sisters,” she said. “Heavy snowfall took out a couple towers. Give me a second.”