Silver Thaw Read Online Free PDF Page B

very loud sound on roofs. Let’s have a snack and then we’ll sing songs so the noise doesn’t bother us.”
    *   *   *
    During the summer, when he had a vegetable garden to shield from frost, Jeb checked the Weather Channel on his cell phone daily, but he seldom looked at a forecast during the winter. He preferred to take whatever came and be surprised. His mother, on the other hand, lived by the reports and called him at about eight that evening.
    “That was one heck of a hailstorm we got earlier,” Jeb said as a conversational starting point.
    “That was only an appetizer,” Kate warned him. “Before the night is over, it’s going to get really bad. Is the heat lamp in your chicken coop wired to your backup generator? They’re saying it could drop to thirty below.”
    Jeb couldn’t remember Mystic Creek ever having temps that low. “Mom, only a fool or a weatherman tries to predict Oregon weather. For an accurate forecast, look out a window.”
    Kate Sterling made a disgruntled sound. “I mean it, Jeb. You need to get your livestock inside shelters, and if your coop isn’t hooked up to your generator, you should bring all the chickens indoors.”
    Jeb gulped back a laugh. Only his mom would think to rescue his poultry. “No worries. I bought a generator that supplies all the outbuildings with emergency electricity. The animals and chickens should be fine.”
    After Jeb told his mom good-bye, he considered calling Tony to make sure he was locked down for a storm, but then he decided that the old man had been farming too many years to appreciate advice from some young fart across the road. So instead of dialing his neighbor, Jeb thought of his message writer.
His
message writer? When had he started to think of her that way? He looked out his kitchen window, once again wondering if she lived on Elderberry. She might be in for a cold night if the electricity went off. Jeb could only pray that didn’t happen—and that she had a strong roof. His had taken a real beating earlier.
    Nothing on television interested him, so he coaxed Bozo from his hiding place under the dining room table and turned in early to finish the espionage novel he’d been plowing through. Hail resumed thrumming on his second-story roof, which, as loud as it was, created asoothing drone downstairs. After reading the last page, he judged the book to be so-so. Yawning, he tossed the paperback onto his nightstand and turned off the light. He smiled when he felt the mattress sink beside him under Bozo’s weight. The dog seemed to think Jeb wouldn’t notice that he had a sleeping partner if he waited for darkness before jumping up.
    *   *   *
    At a little after ten, the hail stopped, giving Amanda’s ears a rest. To stay warmer, she’d bedded down with Chloe on the sofa where the high-back cushions and padded arms offered more insulation than the beds. Nervy and restless because of the weather, she was driven from their warm nest to pace from room to room. At a window, she looked out at the silent, frozen landscape. There it was again, the feeling of being cut off from meaningful human contact. She slipped into the kitchen to write a few notes on pink paper, then braved the blasts of freezing wind on her porch to release her messages.
    Afterward, she snuggled with Chloe on the couch to get warm again and retrieved her love story, drawing solace from Chloe’s small, toasty body. A few minutes later, the house went suddenly dark. From the kitchen, she heard the old refrigerator’s motor chug to a stop.
Thank goodness Chloe is asleep. The pitch-blackness might frighten her.
Groping her way to the kitchen, Amanda fetched the candle and matches she’d left on the table. She nearly lighted the taper but changed her mind. She had only this one, and she needed to use it sparingly. Careful not to trip in the dark, she pulled the blankets and comforters off both beds, and added them to the pile on the couch. With the power out, blankets