Free One Shenandoah Winter by Davis Bunn

okay—”
    â€œThree months, Margaret, come on, I was hoping for something like three days.”
    â€œNathan, I can’t just toss our stuff in the back of a station wagon and send it off, not even for you. But if you think you’ll hold out that long, I’ll go to the trouble. For you.”
    He found the commitment fiercely threatening, but even so found himself replying, “I’ll try.”
    â€œGood man. From the sounds of things, they need you. And I’ll get off a few boxes of emergency supplies to you as soon as I possibly can. Things I can sweep under the administrative rug.”
    â€œThanks, Margaret. You’re a pal.”
    â€œYou take care of yourself down there. Stay away from pythons and piranhas.”
    â€œI think you’ve got the wrong continent, but I get the message.”
    Nathan hung up the phone, energized by the tiny connection to the outside world.
    Then he recognized the woman getting out of the car in his drive, and the energy seeped away with his exasperated sigh. He went to grab a coat.

Nine
    T he road leading out of Hillsboro rose at a deceptive angle. It was only when the trees opened for a moment to reveal the rapidly descending valley floor that Nathan realized how high they were climbing. Connie handled the big car and the curves with practiced ease. The Oldsmobile was relatively new, yet it bore scars similar to those he had seen on her truck.

    He had no idea what he was doing, going for a drive with this strange woman. But something drew him to her. Which was bizarre, given that they had absolutely nothing in common. Not to mention the fact that every time they had met, they had argued fiercely.
    But it was not just Connie Wilkes who perplexed Nathan. All these hillfolk baffled him utterly. Nothing in his past had prepared him for such a place. It was as though time simply did not matter here. Nor the outside world.
    And the way this woman had yelled at him the day before. Nathan had grown so accustomed to respect and subservience around the hospital that he felt as though someone had shaken him awake. He had stood there waiting for his own anger to rise up and confront her. But nothing had happened. He had felt stripped bare.
    Nathan found himself glancing over to her from time to time, observing her as she drove. Her face held to angular lines and far too much strength ever to be called beautiful. More like handsome in a countrified way. The little makeup she wore had been applied with impatient haste. Her hair was mostly darkish blond, but there were streaks of a deeper russet color, almost like the surrounding autumn-flecked trees.
    Connie cleared her throat, displaying a touch of nerves in the formal way she said, “I have to thank you for coming out like this.”
    â€œI’m the one who should be grateful.” He found himself adopting the same stiffness. “I haven’t been past the city limits since I arrived.”
    â€œYou have to watch that. A valley town like ours can begin to close in on you. Time in the hills or time in the city, everybody needs one or the other.”
    The road took a sharper curve, and for an instant the valley spread out below him. Harvest colors swept down the steep-sided slopes, as though great autumn hands cradled the little town. The river caught the afternoon light and waved at him. “It certainly is beautiful here.”
    â€œYes.” It was her turn to cast a nervous glance. “Have you made any decision about how long you’ll be staying?”
    â€œRight now I’m just taking it one day at a time.” He wanted to say more, to try and explain how that was the rule for all his life. The desire to speak was the strangest part of a very strange day. But he held his tongue.
    She accepted the news with a glum little nod. “We sure need you.”
    Nathan opened his mouth to continue, but his old fears instantly resurfaced. The banked-up apprehension that had