Vacant Heart

Chapter Four

Aidan Hughes places the landline into the receiver, the backdrop of billowing fire behind him. We're back in the sweltering room, and even though it looks like the end of the world outside, I haven't set down my things.

"What did the sheriff say?"

"They advised everyone to remain indoors." He presses his satin lips together, tucking his hands into his pants. "It's too dangerous to drive through the terrain."

Being a journalist, I should be glad for this opportunistic timing. Being trapped here with mystery man only means I can press harder, try to get him to open up to me. However, I miss the noise of the city, the crowds of people always around. In this place, the walls roar, the pipes creak by the force of the storm. The nervous woman who greeted me has departed in an attempt to get back to her home, which she divulged to me before she left is the small cottage at the forefront of the grounds. Her husband braved the weather and climbed the driveway in his car just to ensure he got her, leaving me completely and utterly alone with my interviewee.

"It won't...last long, will it?"

"It's a winter storm. I'm really not sure. He said it may be a few days of snowfall."

"Days?" I breathe, horrified.

"Yes," he replies, softly. "And typically in these storms, there's a few more until they can get the roads cleared up here."

All I can do is stare at him blankly, completely stupefied.

A nervous tick, he glances at the phone again, shuffling on his feet. "Look, I'm sorry. I thought it wasn't landing until tonight. I never would have asked you to come out here if I'd have known."

"Is that the truth?" I snap, too worked up to control my rising panic.

"Yes," he replies instantly, forcefully. "What do you think I am? You honestly think I lured you up here intending to trap you in a rickety old mansion for the holidays? You think I actually want the company of a reporter watching my every move? Really?"

"I am a goddamn journalist, Hughes. Not a reporter. And hell if I know what's going on in your mind. But I intend to leave. I have plans, plans that I can't miss."

"You can't go out in this, especially not knowing the roads."

"I'll be fine."

I'm exiting the room when like déjà vu, he's storming up behind me. "Are you crazy?"

"I'm a good driver. I can do it."

"I don't care if you're a goddamn professional driver, those roads are dangerous, more dangerous than you know." He slides in front of me, and takes hold of my arm, stopping me. "And I'll be damned if you go out there and get yourself killed. That'll be on me, and I don't need any more of that."

Although his words are clipped and slip through tight lips, his voice is stiff with guilt, and the last part of his sentence drops upon me like a weight. That'll be on me...

"The snow is coming down hard. A few more hours and my car won't be able to get through it," I say. "As much as I want to hear your story, everything I have is in the hotel room in town. Thank you for the concern, but I-I can't just stay here."

I skirt around him and as I bar open the massive door, I'm pounded by the weather. He doesn't call out to me, letting me leave. The heels of my boots have already disappeared into inches of snow. I fish through the pocket of my bag, and retrieve my keys, while the storm batters my back, nearly sending me into the window.

I climb inside, seeing my own breath in front of my face, and fumble with the key. When the ignition starts, I swallow and test out the windshield wipers, turning the heat on full blast. The front door is in sight, which is still ajar. Aidan is holding it open, his face pale with concern. I only catch a glimpse of him before the wipers are covered again, the speed no match for the tumulus weather.