The Puzzle by Peggy A. Edelheit Page B

driver’s seat and shifted the car into gear and took off. He deftly maneuvered around ice and ruts, somehow managing to get us to his house, which was ablaze with candlelight. He carried me through the front door, and then I was dumped once again. Only this time, it was on his couch in front of a roaring fire. It was a wonderful sight to see after the nightmarish evening. A minute later, Clay returned with a blanket and tossed it at me. “There, that should do for the moment.” He gave me a strange backward glance as he walked away. “I’ll be right back. I need to put my keys and wallet away,” he commented, as he retreated into the shadows once more.
    I tried to relax. Surely I was safe now. Or was I? One thing was clear: I had escaped from my house. Did I make the right choice? Did I have a choice? I really didn’t know much about Clay at all. Who was he? But by that point, I didn’t care. I was too exhausted at that moment to be fearful, and welcomed the warmth as I began to feel my fingers and toes gradually warm up.
    Clay returned shortly and sat in the chair opposite me next to the fire. “So, let’s start at the beginning. Tell me what happened tonight. How did things get so out of control, Samantha?”
    I explained, but I left out the phone episode and my mysterious caller. By the time I was finished, I was totally drained. We talked for more than an hour, while I described all the problems I had at the beginning when I first arrived. We laughed together, as he began sharing his tales of trying to fix up the house. He claimed he was still learning on the job and not in much of a hurry. To my surprise, our conversation flowed easily, and gradually I began to unwind. After a while, he left and returned with some wine for the both of us, handing me a filled glass.
    “Go ahead, you look like you could use one,” he said, sitting once again and sipping from his glass. “Why did you wait so long to use your phone?”
    “Because I didn’t think the situation would get so out of control like it did, and when things turned from bad to worse, it was too late. The phone lines were already dead.”
    “You know it could have turned out a lot worse if I hadn’t hiked up there. After your earlier brush off, I almost didn’t attempt it. You are so lucky I don’t hold grudges for very long.” He gave a chuckle and sipped his wine.
    I grinned. “I shouldn’t have taken my problems out on you. I’m sorry.”
    “Apology accepted.” He smiled and leaned forward. “I am not going to bite, Samantha. So, tell me. Why are you wound up so tight? Can I help somehow?”
    The wine had done its magic and I thought I would trust him up to a point, but no mentioning of the notes and phone calls, or what my exact plan was. So, I told my story; an abbreviated version of Stephen’s demise, explaining I needed to get away from our house after Stephen’s death. What better place than here with a fresh start in a new home and quiet town? I stared at Clay .
    Maybe he would be useful.
    We spoke over one more glass of wine. Then I started to show signs of fatigue.
    “Maybe you should get some sleep,” said Clay. “If we’re lucky, we’ll have electricity by morning, and I can take you back to your place. Sound like a plan?”
    “Sounds like a great idea to me,” I replied, struggling to stifle another yawn.
    He gathered up the glasses and brought me back a pillow and more blankets, and then settled himself up on the floor in front of the fire with a pillow and blanket for himself. I turned to him. He had his back to me and was lying facing the fire.
    After a few minutes of gathering some courage, I ventured, “Clay? I just want to thank you again for rescuing me. I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time. I guess I was just venting my anger and frustration, and you were the closest target.”
    There was no response, just the rhythmic sound of his breathing. He had fallen asleep. Oh well, I would just have to tell him in the