The photo was a shot of the giant oak tree at the edge of our front yard. Several branches were as thick as full-grown trees. The largest one, the one we climbed to watch cars drive by, was breaking away from the base of the tree. Blackened and twisted, it dangled precariously over the graveled drive.
The force of the lightning bolt as it struck the tree penetrated through the ground below our bedroom. The acrid smell of smoke clung to my nostrils. My grandmother and mother whispered from behind the bedroom door. This combination of the fury of the natural world and the secrets of grown-ups filled me with a terror only a nine-year-old could know.
I slammed the album shut, shoved it under my bed, and turned off the lights, determined to get some sleep. But questions kept flying through my mind. Why had Gran included that scorched tree along with all those happy family memories? Had she expected me to understand? Maybe, if I could just recall some little detail, the whole story would come flooding back. The more I tried to quell my thoughts, the more restless I became.
Then I remembered the sleeping pills in my medicine cabinet. Right after Ben dumped me, I’d gone for at least three days on less than four hours of sleep a night. My mother was worried, and, as a retired nurse, she insisted she was fully competent to prescribe her own medication for me. They worked so well I slept through a midnight refrigerator raid that left me covered in cheese spread and cookie dough. But tonight, I was too exhausted to care. I swallowed one of the tiny tablets and packed the bottle in my travel bag in case I had trouble sleeping in a strange place.
The savage expression on my mother’s face when she spoke of how we would make Ben pay was my last conscious image before the pills took effect.
Chapter 10
A sound like BB’s pelleting my window brought me out of my pill-induced stupor. It took several seconds to place the noise. Ice.
Transplanted Northerners make fun of Southerners in the snow. Some of their scorn is deserved. Yes, we panicked at the first flake. And we flooded grocery and liquor stores. But we knew behind every snowfall lay the possibility of an ice storm. If you were caught out when the roads became frozen sheets of glass, it didn’t matter how adept you were at driving in bad weather; you could be stuck on the roads for hours.
I had enough supplies to outlast at least a three-day storm and would be fine unless the power went out. Then I remembered I was supposed to be heading to Ecuador on the next flight. If the airport closed, that might not be for quite a while.
Outside my window, about six inches of dazzling white snow blanketed the ground. Ice glazed trees and bushes. Scarlett balked at going out back, so I put on old boots and threw my coat over my pajamas before dragging her through the front door. She snorted indignantly before attending to her business and scurrying back in.
I’d just shrugged out of the coat when my phone rang. It was Lesroy.
“Grace, have you looked outside?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “It is a beautiful mess everywhere. The streets aren’t bad yet, though. Vincent has four-wheel drive, and he’s happy to come get you and the beast. Come party out the storm with us.”
Vincent and Lesroy had been living together for almost a year in a bungalow-styled home in the trendy Virginia Highlands area. A big, burly contractor who specialized in renovating older homes wasn’t who I would have pictured Lesroy with, but I’d never seen my cousin so happy. I enjoyed hanging out with them, but people have been known to get stranded for days during Atlanta ice storms, and I wasn’t sure I could handle that much fun.
I assured him the dog and I would be fine.
“You’re a real buzz-kill, Grace. Besides, you shouldn’t be alone right now. Please stay with us.”
“I appreciate the offer, Cousin, but I don’t mind being by myself. And I need to be ready for the first flight whenever that is.”
“That could be days.” Lesroy sighed.
He was right. The ice melted a little during the day and highway crews cleared major streets, but everything refroze overnight, creating havoc for early morning commuters and shutting down the airport. My driveway remained a solid sheet of ice, making a simple trip to the mailbox a treacherous journey. But the power held. I spent my spare time looking up information about Ecuador and trying not to think about my sister’s last days.
Other than it being the jumping-off point for the Galapagos Islands, I knew very little about the country. I read in the papers how Edward Snowden, the former National Security contractor accused of treason for revealing state secrets, had taken sanctuary in Ecuador’s London embassy. This was interesting considering the country’s record on government transparency. It was fine for the other guys, but their own government reserved the right to censor anything or anyone it didn’t like.
Navigating a country that provided a haven for someone like Ben, while strong-arming its own people could be tricky. I was glad I had Mike’s friend to help.
On the third day the temperature stayed above freezing, and it looked as if we were through the worst of it. With the backlog of passengers who needed rescheduling, however, it was another day before Mike could book a flight for me.
“You’re set to leave on the first flight out tomorrow morning. I’ve put some contact information together for you from my buddy in Guayaquil. I’d bring it over
