HER BODYGUARD

He considered. “Fair enough,” he said. “Then I will decide. And I think it’s best if I try to get up to the road, at least. I’ll set some flares.” He held them up. “And I’ll see if that brown pickup is anywhere nearby-and if it is, I’ll see if there’s anything I can do for the driver.”

She knew he was right in what he planned to do, even though she longed to beg him not to do it. “You won’t go far?” she said, not understanding where this sudden care for him was coming from.

“No.”he replied.” I won’t. My main responsibility is you, to keep you safe and well. You’re the priority.”

She was so grateful to hear him say that-at the same time as she felt deeply ashamed to have gotten them into this awful situation. She had behaved badly on any number of levels and her evening of adventure had somehow gotten completely out of control.

She sent a little prayer to heaven that God would be merciful and protect the man who was only trying to protect her. He added, “I’ll stay well to the shoulder and I won’t get out of sight of the flares that I set.”

She took a slower, deeper breath. “Yes. All right.” She said,

He tried his phone one more time. “Dead air,” he said softly. He flicked the door lock beside him. The front door on the driver’s side was jammed against the bank, but the back door looked as though it might have some play. He pulled the handle and put his rocklike shoulder into it. With much crunching and groaning, the door slowly opened. It didn’t open far. Too soon it was lodged in the snow on the bank. Freezing air swirled in.

“Stay bundled up,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.” And with that, he slipped out into the storm.

“Be safe,” she whispered, as he wrestled the door free of the snowbank and pushed it shut behind him.

She stared over the seat, tracking the flashlight’s glow as he slogged away from the car. He began to climb the bank. Too soon, she lost the light-and him. The view through the rear window was a narrow one from the front seat.

That was unbearable-to have lost sight of him so soon. She scrambled over the seat and then over that seat so she could look out the back. From there, she could see a faint glow up on the road.

“Please, please God, keep him safe….” She had to resist the urge to bargain with the Almighty. She’d been foolish enough in the past few hours. She wasn’t going to start trying to make deals with God.

Through the swirling haze of the snow, she saw a flash of sizzling brightness, followed by the red glow of a flare. Then came a second flash and there were two. The flares lit the upper rim of the ditch. His flashlight beam began moving along the shoulder, back the way they had come.

Too soon, the flashlight’s glow was swallowed by the storm. She had only the red gleam of the flares to comfort her while she waited.

And waited. As far as she could tell no other cars had passed. She saw only the light given off by the flares. She didn’t know what time it was. She wore no watch, her phone wasn’t with her. She had no idea if the car’s clock might be working. And she wasn’t about to scramble back over the seats to find out, wasn’t about to stop staring out that back window, willing his return.

A glad cry escaped her when she saw the flashlight’s glow again. It seemed to take form out of the spinning snow, materializing slowly from the whirl of whiteness. It was coming closer, thank God. And it had probably only been ten or fifteen minutes since the beam had been swallowed by the storm. But somehow, those minutes had seemed like several lifetimes strung end to end.

At the bank, the light paused. There was the flash of another flare as a third warning torch lit up between the first two. And then, at last, he began to descend the bank.

She scrambled back over the seat so she could push the door open for him when he reached it. The cold air and snow swirled in along with the big, cold man and the glow of the trusty flashlight. He pulled the door shut and she backed away to the far side of the seat in order to quell the powerful need to throw her arms around him and hold on tight. She wondered how he would react if she did that. Would he hold her or push her away? She thought.

“You’re safe,” she whispered prayerfully. “Oh, and I’ll bet you’re freezing cold….”

He turned off the light, set it aside and brushed snow from his shoulders, stomped it off his boots. She watched the shadowed, eagerly awaited shape of him as her eyes once again grew accustomed to the gloom.

Resignedly, he muttered, “Didn’t I tell you to stay bundled up in the front seat?”

She laughed, a slightly hysterical sound. “I did stay bundled up. You never said a word about the front seat-and did you find him, the old man?” she asked.

“No. Not a sign of him or the pickup.” He replied. He brushed snow off his hair.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

Cold droplets touched her cheek. She swiped them away. “But… how could that be possible?” she asked.

“The snow’s falling fast, covering our tracks. But the ones where he skidded sideways in our lane were so deep, they were still visible. I followed them-until they seemed to straighten out.”

“Straighten out?” She considered the impossibility of that. “Surely you’re joking.” she said.

“No.”

“You’re saying he somehow pulled out of that horrible slide?”she asked.

“It looks that way.”

“Incredible.” She said,

“He is probably used to driving in bad weather.” Asher said.

“He wasn’t doing a very good job of it when he came flying at us.” Katherine said.

Those big shoulders lifted in a shrug. “What can I tell you? It looked to me like he pulled out of it somehow.” He wrapped his hands around himself and rubbed his arms.