A Year on Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [129]
So many emotions were wrestling for first place inside her chest that all Cici could do, for the moment, was nod. She tucked a strand of hair behind Lori’s ear, brushed a melting snowflake off her shoulder, and finally regained her voice. “How did you get here?” she asked again. “The airports are closed, nothing is running . . .”
“Well,” replied Lori, and her expression livened with the excitement of the tale, “it was quite an adventure. I got out of Chicago on the last flight, I mean, the literal last flight, but can you believe when I got to Washington Dulles was closed? So they rerouted us to Atlanta, and I rented a car. I drove all night to get to Virginia, and then when I got to Staunton, well, I was lucky to get that far. I’m telling you, the snow was over my hubcaps, and that was even after I stopped and had chains put on.”
By this time Cici’s heart was in her throat as she tried not to think about her daughter, driving alone through a blizzard at night on an interstate that was by now either closed or about to be closed due to hazardous driving conditions.
“I bogged down about five miles outside of town,” she reported happily, “but then I met this kid on a motorcycle—”
Cici couldn’t help gasping, “A motorcycle?”
Lori nodded. “And when I told him where I was going he said he knew right where it was, so here I am.”
Cici said carefully, trying to catch her breath, “You got on a motorcycle . . . with a stranger . . . in a snowstorm?”
Lori nodded, looking around curiously. “He said he was coming in. Of course, he had to push the bike most of the way up the driveway. Oh!” Her face brightened as the door opened again on a blast of sunlight and cold air. “There he is.”
Cici turned around to greet the stranger, and then she started laughing again. She couldn’t help it. She laughed as Bridget and Lindsay surged forward, exclaiming over the newcomer, and she laughed as she made her way over to the door to greet him, holding tightly to her daughter’s hand.
“Noah,” she said, beaming at him. “Merry Christmas. And thanks for bringing my daughter home.”
He was wearing only a thin nylon jacket that was stiff with cold and moisture, and his hair was frosted with snow. His face was bright red, though whether that was from the cold or embarrassment over the fuss that was being made over him, it was hard to tell. He looked around uneasily. “Ya’ll having a party or something?”
While Cici took Lori into the kitchen to warm up, Lindsay pulled Noah over to the fireplace in the big parlor, where he refused to take off his coat but stretched his hands out for warmth. “Noah,” she said gently, “I’m so sorry about your father.”
He didn’t take his eyes away from the fire. “Weren’t no account anyhow,” he muttered.
She touched his arm. “You’re not like him,” she said softly. “You’re worth something. You’re worth a lot. And I’m glad you came back here, so I could tell you that.”
He slanted her a look that flashed, for one brief moment, the first genuine emotions she had ever seen from him—surprise, and gratitude.
But it was gone as quickly as it had been there, swallowed in embarrassment and awkwardness as he shifted his scowling gaze quickly back to the fire. To cover, Lindsay punched his arm lightly and injected outrage into her voice that wasn’t entirely feigned.
“You spent the money we paid you on a motorcycle?” she demanded. “Do you even have a license?”
His answer was a shrug. He said, without looking at her, “You still got that ole deer hanging around here?”
Lindsay hid a smile. “We do. We made a place for him in the barn like you said.”
He grunted. “Maybe I’ll go have me a look, after a while. Surprised somebody ain’t et him.”
“That’s not going to happen,” she assured him.
Again he slanted a glance at her. “You shore are the craziest bunch of women.”
This time she didn’t try to hide the grin. “We’ve been called worse.”
And then she added, “We really missed you around here.”
Flames patterned color across his face. “Oh