Silver Thaw by Catherine Anderson Read Free Book Online

the living room to give him a hug. Mary Melissa, whose friends called her M&M, was a short sixty-year-old woman with dark brown hair and eyes, and an attractive oval face. “Can’t believe you drove on those icy roads to check on us. Your mama and daddy raised you right.”
    Donna patted Jeb’s arm. “No need for you to worry. The Burrs are fine, too, with their backup power, and Sheryl Moses, our young lady fireman—who’s available, by the way—winterized her house and is staying at the station in case of emergencies.”
    Jeb ignored the matchmaking attempt. “How about Father John at the Catholic church?”
    “The congregation put in a backup generator a couple of years ago that supplies power to the church and the rectory, so he’s fine. Probably calling around to offer other folks shelter. If people bring food and bedding, that church will hold a lot of families, and the church kitchen was designed to cook for crowds.”
    “That’s good to know. I’ve only just started my rounds.” Jeb refused food, even though he was starving. “I need to get back out there. Tony Bradley is covering Huckleberry. I need to hit Elderberry. I think a lot of older folks live along that lane.”
    Donna laughed. “Have fun with Lucy and Ethel Patrick.”
    “Who?” Jeb had never met the women.
    Donna’s smile broadened. “You’ll know who they are soon enough.”
    As Jeb left the house, he heard one of the women say, “He is so stinkin’ cute. If I were thirty years younger, I’d snatch him up in a heartbeat. What’s the matter with the younger gals in this town?”
    Jeb chuckled, forgot to watch his step, and almost did a butt plant on the ice.
    *   *   *
    Elderberry turned out to be the geriatric center of Mystic Creek. Jeb started at the more populated end where the road intersected with West Sugar Pine. He helped so many old people that only a few stuck in his mind. One memorable character was Christopher Doyle, a hunched old fellow who claimed he was ninety years young. At his next stop, Jeb found a sweetheart named Esther McGraw, eighty-one and still going strong. She had no heat, and her phone wouldn’t work because it ran off electricity.
    “Newfangled gadgets!” she complained. Wobbly on her feet, possibly because she was weighted down with blankets, she led the way to her living room. “I’m worried about why my daughter hasn’t come to check on me. It isn’t like her.”
    Jeb secured her house and drove her to her daughter’s. By two that afternoon, his day had become a blur. At some point, hunger forced him to grab a frozen energy bar, break off chunks, and hold them in his mouth until they thawed enough to chew.
    He kept in touch with Tony and Pete by cell phone. They sounded as exhausted as he felt, and he was more than thirty years younger than Tony. During his rounds, he met many old people and a couple of younger women,Deb Kistler and Arlene Harmon, thirty-two and forty-one, respectively, who both had backup generators and looked after each other.
    The gray gloom of dusk had descended by the time Jeb reached the end of Elderberry. A clapboard house sat back from the gravel thoroughfare, now overlaid with thick ice. He saw no tire tracks outside the garage and decided it must be a vacant rental. As he turned his truck around to head home, he noticed disturbed spots of snow in the front yard.
Footprints
. On the off chance that someone lived there, Jeb parked on the road and trudged through the white drifts to gain the rickety porch. He heard footsteps inside, and a moment later, a woman cracked open the door to peer out at him over a flimsy chain guard. All he could see clearly of her face was one brown eye, which regarded him with suspicion.
    By then, Jeb had his introductory speech memorized. “Hi, I’m Jeb Sterling from over on Huckleberry Road.”
    When he’d finished his spiel, she drew the door open a bit wider but didn’t disengage the chain. With a clearer view of her, Jeb