Chapter 3

I leaned out and peered up and down the street, but nobody was out and about and the snow was still coming down so hard that I doubted anybody could see us from their windows. I closed and latched the front door and ran through the house to hit the garage door opener. It glided silently up in its tracks, and a moment later Delaney was standing in the mud room shivering and dripping onto the thick rug.

“Here, take off your boots and jacket while I run upstairs and put something on,” I blurted, already turning to go. I trotted up the stairs, toweled off furiously, and slipped into sweat pants and an old UA sweatshirt.

When I got back downstairs Delaney was still standing on the mud room rug, surrounded by both pairs of our boots, and holding her jacket, mittens, and hat in her arms. Her hair auburn was short, wet, and plastered to her head. She was dressed in jeans and a crew team sweatshirt. She was still shivering. Both the jeans and sweatshirt were soaked through. I took her things and hung them up downstairs by the furnace, then invited her into the kitchen and offered to make her some coffee. She asked for tea instead.

When we were both sitting down at the kitchen table with cups of hot tea, I asked her if there was anybody she could call to help her into the house. She shook her head.

“Both Mom and Dad are out of town for the day. I called a couple of the girls on the team, but they either don’t have a car or don’t want to go out in this type of storm.” She frowned, glancing out the glass door that leads to the deck. “Not that I blame them. I even tried a couple of the neighbors, but they’re all at work.

“I know this doesn’t look good for you,” she continued, glancing sideways at me, “but it was this or jogging up and down the road for the next few hours to stay warm until Dad gets home.”

I stared at her for a moment and then asked, “Could you even do that?”

“If I had to,” she grinned at me.

“Geez, I couldn’t,” I said.

“Believe me, I know. I saw you running this summer,” she said, mischievously. We both laughed then, and relaxed.

We talked for a while, watching the snow fall and listening to the occasional sounds of a plow going down the road. I told her about Jackie and myself; where we grew up, how we met, and how we ended up in Syracuse. She told me about her family and the team and how much she loved rowing. She was just starting her college application process, and she had scholarship offers from over a dozen schools. She was trying to decide between Michigan and Berkeley.

We had been talking and drinking tea for some time when I noticed that Delaney was still shivering. In fact, she was trying hard to keep her teeth from chattering. I looked at her funny and wondered what was up, and then I realized how cold it was. I was starting to shiver, myself. What the hell?

I got up and went into the living room. The thermostat read 58! It was a programmable model, and we had it set to 55 during the day when Jackie and I were usually at work. I had forgotten to reset it upwards that morning, so the heat hadn’t been on all day. The house had good insulation and retained heat well, but by this time most of it had bled away. I turned the temperature up to 68, but it would be over an hour before the furnace could get the house back up to normal.

I went back into the kitchen and found Delaney huddled in her chair, arms wrapped around herself, shivering violently. I explained the situation to her and apologized. She told me she understood – her house had a programmable thermostat, too.

She tried to smile, but it came off as a grimace. I realized that her clothes were still soaked through with sweat and melted snow. The poor kid, she had to be absolutely freezing! At least I had had a hot shower and was in warm, dry clothes! That’s when I made up my mind. It seems crazy in retrospect, but I felt like I had to get her warm as quickly as possible.

“Okay, get up and go upstairs. You’re going to take a hot shower,” I said, in as paternal a tone as I could muster.

I half expected her to hit me – and believe me, that would have hurt – but instead she just looked up at me, shaking, and said, “Wha-wha-wha-t-t?” Her teeth were chattering so badly she could hardly get the word out.

“Don’t worry,” I exclaimed, holding my hands up in front of me, “you’re safe and I’m no pervert! The shower’s upstairs, first door on the right. Lay your clothes out on the floor in the hallway and lock the door. Then I’ll come up and get them clean and dry for you while you shower.

“When you’re done, go into the bathroom closet and you’ll find some plush towels as well as my wife’s bathrobe. It’s really nice – thick and soft and warm. Wrap yourself up and I’ll lay your clothes outside the door when they’re done. After you’re dressed, come back down and we’ll see about getting you back into your own house.”

She stared up at me for a minute, shivering violently, and then got up, rubbed her hands up and down her arms a bit, and hunched over toward the staircase. As she made her way up the stairs, I reminded her that the bathroom was the first door on the right.

“Don’t worry, I know,” came her mysterious reply.

The furnace was running and I was still sitting downstairs at the kitchen table, fidgeting, when I heard the shower come on. I gave it a few more minutes and then ventured slowly up the stairs. “Everything okay?” I called. Getting no answer, I peeked around the corner at the top of the stairs and looked down the hallway.