Lynnette Kent - A Holiday to Remember

“There is. I don’t know why it’s not kicking on.”

Outside the kitchen, she ran into a bumbling, sobbing huddle of teenage girls. Stretching out her arms, she touched as many of them as she could reach. “Calm down, everybody. We’re okay. Everybody is okay. Our eyes are adjusting. We’ll be able to see soon. Shh. Shh. Just relax.”

Gradually, the sobs were replaced by sniffles. Jayne herded the girls into the library, where embers glowed red in the fireplace.

“We’ve got plenty of flashlights,” she told them, “one for each of you, at least. Thousands of batteries. We’ll build up the fire and be warm and cozy.”

“What happened?” Taryn’s voice still quivered. “Why did the lights go out?”

“I don’t know.” Jayne carried a plastic tub of flashlights and batteries from the storeroom into the library.

“Isn’t there a backup generator?” Sarah started handing out the torches. “Doesn’t it switch on automatically?”

“That’s the plan.” Jayne stood back as the girls began playing with their lights. “I don’t know why it didn’t work.”

“Can’t we call somebody to come fix it?”

At the window, Jayne looked out into a white curtain of snow. “I don’t think anyone can get out from town tonight.” She picked up the nearby phone and was relieved to hear the dial tone. “I’ll call first thing tomorrow morning.”

Red-haired Haley raised her hand. “Ms. Thomas, who’s taking care of the horses? If Miss Ruth Ann can’t get here, are they going to starve in the snow?” A computer genius with a history of anorexia and several arrests for hacking into business systems, Haley had started riding lessons this fall.

“We’re lucky in that regard. Ms. Granger had already planned to spend the vacation with her husband and daughter in Ireland. She left our horses with different friends in the area to be cared for with their animals. They’re fine.”

“Whew.” Haley sat back in her chair. “I’m glad.”

As the girls relaxed, Jayne had the chance to realize Chris Hammond wasn’t in the room. With her flashlight clenched in suddenly clammy fingers, she checked the kitchen, the storerooms and even the men’s restroom without finding him.

For a few moments, she stood in the hallway outside the library, considering Hammond’s strange disappearance. Where had he gone? Why?

A sudden gust of cold wind swirled around her legs. The beam of her torch showed Jayne that the outside door, locked as usual, was propped open a few inches. Chris Hammond had left the building. Would he come back? With a weapon this time? She didn’t know him, had no reason to trust him.

Maybe she should call the sheriff’s office. They might need help up here, after all….

In the next minute, the door opened all the way and the man in question stepped inside. The beam from his flashlight hit her square in the face, then dropped immediately.

Jayne kept hers high. “Where have you been?”

“Do you mind?” He brought his hand up to shield his eyes.

She didn’t move. “Why did you go outside?”

“I thought I would find and check out the generator, see if I could get it running.”

“Oh.” She lowered the flashlight. “What’s wrong with it?”

“I can’t tell. When’s the last time you needed it?”

“Never, in the three years I’ve been here. But we get yearly maintenance from the company.”

“Then you’ll have to ask them what went wrong. It’s dead out there, though. No chance of power for tonight.” He pulled the door firmly closed behind him. “What about water?”

“We’re supplied by the town reservoir, so we should be okay. If that water failed, we could switch over to the original Hawkridge supply, from a lake high in the mountains. We won’t have to melt snow to drink.”

His teeth flashed in the dark. “And are we taking cold showers?”

“Our water heaters are gas, so we’ll have hot water for showers and washing up. Thank goodness.”

“Things could definitely be worse.” He tilted his head and looked at her quizzically. “So, do you still suspect I’m an ax murderer?”

“Yes.” Without smiling, Jayne turned and went back into the library. The girls had settled around the fireplace, thanks to Sarah’s brilliant discoveries—marshmallows and coat hangers.

“Are there chocolate bars and graham crackers?” Taryn licked white goo off her fingers. “We could make s’mores.”

Jayne didn’t want to take on another project tonight. “We’ll look for those tomorrow in the daylight.”

A general protest rose from the crowd around the fireplace, expanding to take in the weather, the lack of power and entertainment options and the miserable state of their adolescent world in general. The whines and complaints came at Jayne as only the most recent coating on a snowball of stress and tension that had been rolling downhill for the last two days, growing larger with every moment and now barreling straight at her.

She dropped into the nearest chair, her hands clamped tight together. In a minute she would regain control.

“Hey, girls! Shut up!” The shout actually echoed in the large room. Through the silence that followed, all eyes turned to the source of the command.

“That’s better.” Standing just inside the library door, Chris Hammond surveyed each of them in turn, one eyebrow lifted in sardonic question over those steel-blue eyes. “Is this a bunch of five-year-olds? You sound like it.”

Resentment flared on several faces. Yolanda opened her mouth to speak.

Chris held up a hand. “No excuses. This is far from the worst place you could be holed up during a blizzard. From what I heard at dinner, most of you chose to stay at school over the holiday.”

Yolanda’s mouth shut.

“Right now you’re warm, there’s food and drink and you’ve got company. You could be in the Middle East, holed up in a cave, looking for an enemy you can’t see even in the daytime. No fire allowed, only water to drink, and freeze-dried food from a bag for Christmas dinner.”

“Have you done that?” Taryn asked, curling one of her frizzy brown pigtails around her finger.

“I’ve traveled with the soldiers carrying the guns. My weapon of choice is a camera.”

A photojournalist, Jayne thought, as her hands began to relax. Interesting.

“Can we see your pictures?”

He dragged a ladderback chair near the fire. “Didn’t bring my camera on this trip.”

“Do you work for a newspaper?”

“I usually freelance—I come up with projects and then look for an editor who’s interested.”

Beth Steinman, whose expensive and stylish haircut branded her a resident of Manhattan, asked, “Have you ever published pictures in the New York Times?”

“Three articles last year.”

“Wow.”

“How about the L.A. Times?” Selena Hernandez represented the West Coast at Hawkridge.

“I just sold them a piece, and they asked for more.”

“Cool!”

His genuine smile was just as nice as Jayne had expected. “I have a blog, too. I post pictures and articles on The View from Here.”

“So we could find you online?” The girls sat up in excitement, then all fell back to their usual slumps. “No electricity, no Internet.”

“Something else to look forward to when the power returns.” Jayne got to her feet. “With the heating off, we’ll have to sleep near the fire. We’re going to the dormitory now so each of you can change into pajamas, robes and slippers. A scarf or a soft hat might be a good idea—you’ll stay warmer if you sleep with your head covered. Then you can bring sheets, blankets and pillows back down and we’ll get set up for the night.”

The predictable protests ensued.