Kathryn dropped her purse on the chair of the hotel room and sank onto the bed like a stone into deep water. At least she had privacy here. The condition of her attendance was that she got to stay in a hotel—telling her mother she felt silly as a 55-year-old grown woman staying at her mommy’s.

“But it’s Christmas,” her mother implored. Kathryn knew it wasn’t her sparkling company her mother would miss. It was only that her cousins all stayed at their mommies’ houses, and her mother didn’t want to feel slighted.

“Will you even have room? Ron and Jessie are bringing the kids, aren’t they?”

“Well, we were planning to make up the couch in the den for you.”

“Yep. Nope. Hotel for me.”

And she was glad she’d stuck to her guns. In her solitude, she could lie motionless for as long as she liked, and no man, woman, or child could force her to pull attention away from fully experiencing the empty nothingness she intended to.

No thoughts other than what her body forced her to notice: her aching back, her sore cheeks from all the fake smiling, her feet trapped in two layers of socks inside bulky snow boots.

She kicked off her boots, curled sideways across the bed, and stared at the pale blue glow of the ceiling. Silence, finally.

Until the ping.

It came from her purse on the chair across the room.

Nothing other than that specific ping would have roused her. It was Nash’s ping. Two dings. Unique. His.

She jolted up, her heart and feet tripping over themselves. His name still appeared the same way on the screen.

The message was a photo.

She tapped it open.

It was a little blurry. A plate of the brisket he’d cooked. He was so proud of it. His hand was in the frame, giving a thumbs-up.

The caption: I hope we’re eating this right now! Merry Christmas, Babe.

The timestamp said it had been scheduled. Sent now. Auto-timed. He must’ve set it up last year.

She stared at it until it blurred. Why did he have to be so perfect?

Couldn’t he have been awful? Then she wouldn’t miss him so much.

Shower.

A shower always brought her back to reality. She had spent the last ten months wishing for a life she’d never have again. She had to accept it.

He was gone.

She wasn’t paying attention. She hadn’t meant to miss the turn. But one highway exit blurred into another, and before she realized, she was an hour past the exit that would’ve taken her back to her sister’s house. She pulled off the highway and grabbed her phone at the stop sign of the exit. The one overhead lamp illuminating an otherwise abandoned three way stop.

Man.

A red battery light. She hadn’t even noticed the drone of the GPS voice stop.

She went fishing for her charging cord that was usually plugged into the USB beside her and grabbed at air.

Damn it.

She’d left it at her sisters.

WTAF!

Taking in a deep, slow breath to help calm her nerves, she looked to the left. Just beyond where the lone street light shone was pitch blackness. Not even moon light to make out the shadows of the trees she presumed continued. To the right was the same. 

It was eleven o’clock at night on Christmas and she was stuck. No phone. No map (who still uses maps?). No knowledge of her surroundings. She didn’t even know what direction to turn to get back on the highway.

Alright. Left it is.

In the world that revealed itself in front of her headlights, she seemed to be in the most remote part of Maine ever. No businesses. No house lights. Nothing. Just darkness.

Just keep driving…Just keep driving…

She felt like Dori from that movie, but she had to do something to keep herself from panicking. So, sing-along time it was. It was Maine in December, after all. She had a half a tank of gas and, currently, heat. If either of those things failed, and she was still surrounded by isolation, she would find herself in a very serious situation very quickly.

Out of nowhere, over the next hill, came an enormous canary yellow sign showing a giant black plate in between an equally giant fork and knife below which were the words: ALL NIGHT BREAKFAST – HOT COFFEE – OPEN 365 DAYS.

“Wooo hooo!” she shouted, crisis averted.

She pulled into the parking lot and tucked her coat around her, speed walking to the entrance, phone in hand. The warmth hit her before the scent did. Eggs. Grease. Pine cleaner. The bell above the door jingled cheerfully.

“Sit anywhere,” a friendly sounding voice called out from somewhere behind the counter.

She took a booth by the window. A string of paper snowflakes fluttered on the glass.

“Coffee?” the same friendly voice asked that seem to arrive out of thin air. Her name tag said Mae.

“Yes, please, and I’m… kind of in a little bit of a situation. I’m not familiar with this area and my phone died. Is there a way I could charge it here?”

“Sure, we sell cords at the check out. You’d be surprised how many people venture out this way for that exact reason.”

She smiled gratefully and reached into her purse for her wallet.

And froze.

No wallet.

No cards. No cash.

“I… must’ve left it….” Her stomach dropped. Her sister cooked a prime rib for the dinner contribution and everyone put in 10 bucks to offset the cost. She’d taken out her wallet and left it on the kitchen counter while she made herbed carrots for her dish to pass. And her mobile wallet was dead. “Oh my God. I can’t pay. I’m so sorry—this is so embarrassing.”

Mae gave her a look that landed somewhere between amusement and concern. “It’s Christmas. You’re clearly not trying to grift me for coffee and electricity. I’ve got an extra charger behind the counter. You can use it, no problem.”

“Oh, thank you so much!”

“Well, you’re clearly having a night. And I’ve had one or two of those myself. Just come on up to the counter and we’ll get your phone powered up. Maybe call someone to let them know you’re okay?”

She should call her sister, but realized she didn’t know the number. It was under “Sister” in her phone. “No, that’s okay, but thank you,” she said, making her way to the counter with her coffee.

Mae plugged the charger into a power strip under the counter and handed over the cable with a small nod.

She plugged in her phone, watching the screen come to life with a soft glow. No service. Figures.

Mae slid a small plate across the counter. A slice of pie. Apple, warm, with a side of ice cream.

“On the house,” she said. “Merry Christmas.”

Her eyes burned suddenly from more than exhaustion. She swallowed hard. “Thank you. Really.”

Mae just smiled, wiping her hands on a towel. “You’ll figure it out. Everyone gets lost. Doesn’t mean you’ll stay that way.”

The bell over the door jingled as a trucker came in, stomping snow from his boots, and Mae went to great him.

She took a bite of her pie, letting the hot and cold sweetness wash over her, and hoped what Mae said was true.

“You’re up early.”

“You know I can’t sleep.”

“I guess so.” Her mother paused. “You left early last night. I was worried.”

Kathryn let out a breath of a laugh. “I was tired.”

“Kathryn, you can’t—”

“Mother. I assure you, I can.” Of all the things her mother might say, Kathryn had already filled in the blank. You can’t keep going on like this. Avoiding family. On leave from work. Pouring every shred of herself into a trial that no one else seemed to understand. Or support.

“I still can’t fathom how…,”

“I don’t expect you to. But after this weekend I won’t be able to be in much contact. February 12th is right around the corner.”

She didn’t need to say what it was. The date had been carved into her calendar for months. It was end game. One way or another.

Her mother was quiet, and for a moment, Kathryn thought maybe—just maybe—she’d let it go. Keep up pleasantries like they had been. Pretending things were normal, when they were anything but. She was wrong.

Rising from her chair, her mother roughly tossed aside the magazine she was reading, taking three strides across the room to meet her. “You’re not sleeping. You barely eat. You left your job, Kathryn. You’ve shut out everyone who loves you.”

Kathryn rested her fingertips against the lip of the counter like it might help keep her upright. “Not everyone. I’m doing this for him. And I haven’t shut you out, mother. I’m here aren’t I? I just need to devote everything I have to this right now.”

“Kathryn, I…,”

“Mother. I have to.” Her jaw clenched. She could feel her mother’s emotions, each and every one – pity, confusion, annoyance, disbelief -, but wouldn’t look away. Even if she couldn’t understand it, she had to accept it.

“You’re defending a man everyone says is guilty,” her mother said, her voice shaking slightly now. Not angry—just sad.

“Not everyone.” She had married Nash. Walked the aisle. Said the vows. She knew him. Knew him better than the State of Virginia who charged him. Knew him better than the defense who built the case against him. Knew him better than the judge who would hold Nash’s – and her – future less than two months from now. That was the time she would make them all see that her husband wasn’t who they said he was. He was kind and caring and generous. The man they tried to paint in their  folders and transcripts, expert testimonies and grainy photos, didn’t exist. He wasn’t real.

Her Nash was.

Her Nash didn’t think that way. He couldn’t.

Her mother looked at her then. Really looked at her. And for the first time, Kathryn saw something shift in her eyes—less confusion, more fear.

“He’s on trial for attempted murder of his wife, Kathryn.” A beat. “Your murder.”

Kathryn blinked. “I know.”

She didn’t even see the tree. Just a blur of muted colors and then blackness.

The deer she swerved to avoid stood in the exact spot it had when he headlights illuminated it’s tan fur. It stood perfectly still while Kathryn’s car jerked violently to the left, across the lane of thankfully empty traffic, did a complete 360, and careened into the tree on the opposite side of the road from where she started.

The brief tire screech had silenced.

The motor stilled.

All that could be heard was the systematic ‘blink, blink, blink’ of the blinker that somehow had turned on in the process.

Only then did the little deer, safe now in the quiet, amble off the road, wholly unconcerned with Kathryn Gates and her precarious predicament.

And her predicament was indeed precarious. Stuck in the middle. A space between here and there. And in that space – filled with soft, wonderfully surrounding light – was Nash.

“Hey babe,” he said. Did his lips move? Or did the words just appear in her mind?

Kathryn rushed forward and threw her arms around him. Everything was right again. He was there. Her Nash.

“Never leave me again,” she whispered in his ear, so exquisitely relieved to be back in his embrace. She kissed his ear softly, then trailed kisses across his cheek to his lips. Nash.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispered, caressing his hair, gazing into his sparkling eyes.

“I love you,” he smiled, the words again seeming to come from somewhere inside of her. “But you can’t stay.”

“Of course I can. I’m not leaving,” she buried her face in his chest, inhaling the sweet scent of him, cuddling as close as their shared space allowed.

“Don’t worry,” Nash’s voice played in her mind. “You’ll see me again.”

“I’m here now. WE’RE here now. I’m staying.” Kathryn lifted her head to look upon her beloved. He was talking nonsense. They were together. What else mattered?

But the surrounding light was already fading. His form was already retreating. Falling away, like he was being whisked from her or she from him. She tried to run forward to stop the retreat, but it was like running in place. Her breath started to labor in her efforts as he was fading, fading, and gone.

She blinked. Her labored breath now pushed back onto her face by the airbag upon which her cheek was settled. Her eyes fluttered. Trying to open, but yearning to close. Yearning to go back.

“Ma’am?” a voice called, forcing here tempted eyes apart. “Ma’am? This is Natalie from the SafeRoute response team. You were in an accident. Help is on the way.”

Kathryn heard a raspy grunt and was surprised to realize came from her body. Her labored breath retained it’s speed in her shock. What happened? Where was she?

‘No,’ She forced herself to remember. ‘No. Not me. Nash. I saw him. I was there.’

“Please don’t try to move, ma’am. The paramedics will arrive shortly,” Natalie assured.

But Kathryn didn’t care. “Bring me back,” she willed her breath to say thru her lips.

“Ma’am?”

“Bring me back.” He voice was slightly stronger in her demand.

“Please try to remain calm ma’am. Everything will be alright.”

“No. I want to go back,” she said, louder still.

“Ma’am, you’re alright. I’m here with you. I’m not leaving. The paramedics are just moments away. They’ll be there soon.”

“No. I don’t want it. I want him. I want to go back. Let me go back!” Even though the volume of her desperate words were previously unknown to be within her range, they were drown out by the sound of the siren. They were there. The paramedics. Instructing. Demanding. Asking.

Ignoring.

Ignoring her pleas to leave her alone and let him come back. If they weren’t there, he would come back. She was sure of it.

But that wasn’t their job.

Their job was to try to save her.

Save her from joining him.

And if anyone needed saving at that particular moment in time, it was Kathryn Gates.