Riley stared out the passenger window, stewing. How could he have been so insensitive? She kept going over it in her mind, getting herself more upset. The weather wasn’t helping. They’d been driving through a light but steady rain since leaving Florida that morning.

For as long as she and Jake had been married, a whole four years, they’d been driving to Florida each February to stay with his parents at their winter home. Rob and Wendy Marshall owned an oceanfront house on Sanibel Island. It was beautiful, not too ostentatious—in fact, quite modest considering how well off they were. The bulk of the Marshalls’ wealth had come from the sale of their business, Niagara Estate Winery. Several years beforehand, Rob and Wendy had separated a large portion of the vineyard and Jake had started a spin-off business. His ice wines had become hugely successful. 

Riley enjoyed spending time with Jake’s family. They were down-to-earth thoughtful people, and they treated her like she was their own daughter. This last two-week stay had flown by, and Wendy had gotten up early to see them off. That was when Riley had overheard her casual comment to Jake about the possibility of grandchildren someday. He’d been quick to shut her down. “I wouldn’t hold your breath, Mom. Riley’s not ready.” 

She remembered how shocked she’d been, hearing him say it like that. It felt like he was blaming it all on her. 

She debated bringing it up, confronting him now in the car and asking him why he’d said such a thing. They hadn’t even talked about starting a family––not since that one heated argument when they were first married. But that was four years ago. Clearly, he still didn’t get it. 

How could someone who’s normally so caring and supportive be so blind? What she needed was security, and not the financial security he could easily provide. She needed the security of knowing he’d be an equal partner and take on half the responsibility, half the worrying, half of everything that came with raising children. She wasn’t about to sacrifice her career to be a stay-at-home mom.

“You seem awfully quiet today,” he said, glancing over with a smile. 

She decided not to get into it, not while they were driving. “I’m just feeling a bit down today. Probably the weather.”

“Well, it sure is a dreary day, I’ll give you that.” He reached over and squeezed her hand gently. “It was a wonderful vacation, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Really nice.” It had been wonderful. But now, she just wanted to get home. She was anxious to see her own family and get back to work. She was in the final planning stages of opening a second location for her catering business. She’d decided that if the commercial property she wanted was still available, she’d move forward on it. Maybe then, Jake would see that her career was every bit as important as his.  

A few large droplets of rain splattered against the windshield. Then, half a dozen more. Then, boom! It was like she and Jake had crossed some imaginary line into a full-blown downpour. The wiper blades launched into high speed, leaving only a shattered view of the road ahead.

Jake was gripping the steering wheel with both hands, leaning forward, straining to see the flickering glimpses through the windshield. “Wow, this sure came out of nowhere.” A gust of wind slapped a sheet of rain against the windshield and his head jolted back. “Whoa!” 

“Jake, this is unbelievable.” She almost had to shout over the boisterous pounding of rain. “Maybe we should pull over or get off the highway at the next exit.” 

He kept his eyes on the road. “Good idea. Can you check the navigation and see if you can find––”

Her cell phone started screeching. She stared at the emergency alert, her mouth half open. “Oh, my god. It says ‘Tornado imminent, seek shelter’!” 

 “What the hell—where are we supposed to seek shelter? We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Jake said.

Riley reached forward to the large touch screen centred in the dash and zoomed in on the car’s navigation system. “I don’t see any exits nearby. What do you think? Should we just pull off to the side?”

Jake stayed focused on the road, his chin practically touching the leather-wrapped steering wheel. “I don’t know.” He put on the four-way flashers and moved over to the right lane. A transport truck came barrelling past them on the left, leaving an airborne stream of water in its wake. The spray swooshed against their windshield, propelled by another gust of wind. “What a jackass.” Jake shook his head. “Riley, I think we should just keep going. For all we know, we could be sitting right in the tornado’s path if we pull over here. Plus, we’re liable to get hit by one of these stupid trucks.” 

Four or five miles down the highway, the rain started to ease off. Jake took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I don’t want to jinx anything, but I think the worst is over.”

Riley tapped her knuckles against the woodgrain trim on the console. “Knock on wood.” She twisted in her seat to look out the rear window. “That was pretty intense, wasn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever been in a storm like that.” She scanned the sky in all directions. “I don’t see any funnel clouds anywhere. I think we’re okay.” 

Jake was still struggling to hold the car steady. The depressions in the pavement were filled with rain water that kept tugging at the car and gushing noisily into the wheel wells. He steered them out of the ruts. “I don’t get it,” he said. “It still feels like something’s pulling at us.” 

A second later the whole car was shuddering and a loud thumping erupted underneath. “Oh, shit,” Jake said. “We must have picked up something in one of the tires.” A warning light popped up on the screen in front of them. CHECK TIRE PRESSURE. “Yeah, no kidding. Thanks for the heads-up.” He turned the four-way flashers back on. “Riley, we’re going to have to get off the highway.”

She checked the navigation system again. “We’re coming up on an exit. It’s just one mile up, and there’s a service station there. Do you think we can make it?” 

“We’re going to try. These are run-flat tires—supposedly you can drive up to a hundred miles with a flat, but I somehow doubt that. This feels bad, like there’s some serious damage.” The thumping slowed down with them as they got onto the exit ramp.

At the gas station, Jake parked at the far side of the lot near the air pump, grabbed the umbrella and jumped out to take a look. He circled the car, stopping at the rear passenger-side tire. 

Riley opened her window and stuck her head out, trying to see. It smelled like burning rubber. Jake squatted down next to it. The tire was totally flat with a hunk of metal protruding near the rim. He gave her a thumbs down. “It’s a goner,” he said as he got back into the car. He looked at his watch solemnly. “Time of death, three fifteen p.m.” He tossed the umbrella behind his seat. “Guess it was just too tired to hang on.”

Riley groaned and gave his shoulder a light shove. “That was bad, even for you, Jake.” She looked at him more seriously. “Now what?”

His smile faded. “Now I feel stupid,” he said. “We don’t have a spare. I remember the sales guy telling me how great that was, how we’d have so much extra trunk space. Honestly, the guy went on and on about these run-flat tires and how you’d never need a spare. I don’t know who’s the bigger jerk––him or me.” 

“Well, I for one, appreciate the extra trunk space, and I think our golf clubs do too.” 

He smiled at her. “Ah, you’re just trying to make your dummy husband feel better.” He reached over her legs, pulled the S-Class Cabriolet owner’s manual out of the glove box and gave her a quick kiss. “Guess I better call the twenty-four-hour roadside assistance.” 

The call was answered promptly and connected to the car’s audio system. “Thank you for calling Mercedes Roadside Assistance. Our wait times are longer than usual, but your call is important to us. Please stay on the line, and one of our agents will be with you shortly.”

“Figures,” Jake remarked as the instrumental music commenced. “Why do they choose the worst possible music for these things? Are they trying to agitate people?” Several minutes later, a consultant came on the line. Jake answered a slew of questions, after which, the consultant verified their vehicle location on GPS. 

“Sir, we have you located just off Interstate 95 North, near Yemassee, South Carolina.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Jake confirmed.

“Okay, sir. The Mercedes dealer nearest to you is in Hilton Head. I’m going to dispatch a tow truck. Can you hold the line, please?” It must have been a rhetorical question, because, without waiting for an answer, the line clicked, and they were thrown midway into an encore of the irritating instrumental music. The trumpets and French horns were leading the charge, taking on a group of persistent piccolos that refused to pipe down. 

Jake looked over at Riley and they both rolled their eyes as the music droned through the surround-sound speakers. He started to laugh, then pretended to get into the groove, rocking back and forth in his seat, snapping his fingers to the beat. 

Riley burst out laughing. “Oh, Jake. Always the joker.” It was one of the many things she loved about him. 

A moment later, the line clicked again and the roadside assistance woman was back. “Apparently, they’re very busy—some sort of storm in your area. The tow’s going to be anywhere from two to three hours.”

That would totally throw them off track. She could see the disappointment on Jake’s face. “The thing is,” he tried to explain, “we’re actually headed north, and Hilton Head is almost an hour south of where we are now. Is there no other dealership north of us that we could be towed to instead?”

“No, sir. The closest option would be in Hilton Head. I’ve already dispatched the tow.”

While Jake finished up with roadside assistance, Riley searched online to see exactly where the dealership was and what time they closed. It was already after 3:00 p.m.; the dealer website showed their service department was open until 5:00 p.m. “Well, here’s some more good news,” she announced. “The dealer’s probably going to be closed by the time we get there. There’s no way we’ll make it to our hotel in Columbia tonight.”

“Seriously?” He shook his head. “This day just keeps getting better. Now we’ll have to change our plans.” Wavy lines appeared across his brow.

“I’ll phone the hotel. It’ll be fine.” She didn’t mind changing plans. Improvising was kind of her thing. At work, some of her best dishes were created on the fly. She’d realize she was out of one ingredient and simply substitute something else. Or maybe she’d change the whole recipe and, miraculously, it would turn out to be even more amazing. Jake, on the other hand, preferred things to be orderly and systematic. When it came to harvesting the grapes for his ice wines, the uncertainty of the weather would often stress him out. The temperature had to be a sustained minus 10 degrees Celsius, or it was a no-go and plans would have to change.

Jake opened his door and swung a leg out. “I better go inside and let them know we’ll be parked here for a few hours waiting for a tow.” She watched him zig-zag around a few puddles as he passed the gas pumps and headed toward the store. That was when she noticed the police cruiser parked along the other side of the building. She took a mental note, figuring the washrooms might be over there. No doubt, she or Jake would need one at some point.  

A few minutes later, Jake returned carrying a couple of water bottles in one hand and something hidden behind his back in the other. He swirled the hidden arm around in a grandiose way, as if he were doing a magic trick for her. “Tada,” he said, revealing two of Riley’s favourite ice cream bars. “Thought we might as well make the best of it.” 

Riley’s eyes widened along with her smile. “Ah Jake, that’s so nice.” His thoughtfulness and quirky sense of humour had won her over. She set aside her hurt feelings from earlier and gladly accepted the ice cream bar. 

As she unwrapped it, she gave him an update, “Listen, I was able to cancel our hotel room for tonight in Columbia, and I’m just looking at some other options in Hilton Head not far from the dealership there.” She took a small bite of the ice cream bar and continued to talk out of the side of her mouth. “There’s no way we’ll make it home by tomorrow night, not now.” 

Jake licked the bottom of his bar where the ice cream was starting to melt. “I’m just thinking, if we have to change our plans anyway, how about I cancel my Friday morning meeting? Then, there wouldn’t be any rush to be home by tomorrow night. We could take our time and spend an extra night in Hilton Head.” He looked over at her, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. “Maybe this was fate and we were meant to book a round of golf for tomorrow.”

Riley hesitated. It sounded like a great idea, but she’d planned on being at work Friday. Other than that, it did sound fun, and she’d get a chance to try out the new driver they’d bought her in Florida. Taking one more day might be just what they needed. 

“Wait,” he said, slapping the palm of his hand against his head. “I’m so sorry. What about your catering events? Didn’t you have something big happening this Saturday?”

 “It’s okay. You know what, maybe I can call Lisa and see if she’s got everything organized and ready to go. It’s time I started trusting her to handle things without me. Afterall, once the new location opens, I won’t have time to supervise both.”

Jake gave her a skeptical look. “Somehow, I don’t believe you’re ready to leave everything entirely up to Lisa.”

She scrunched her eyebrows together, ready to deny it, then conceded, giving him another light shove to the shoulder. “Okay, fine. Maybe if we’re home early enough on Saturday, I might just pop over and see how things are going.”

Jake laughed. “Yeah, I thought so. How about golf tomorrow, then? Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure. Golf Thursday, then drive most of the way home on Friday. I’ll phone my mom tonight and see if she can keep Mister Bingley until Saturday. I’m sure she won’t mind. I left plenty of cat food.” 

“Great,” Jake said, opening his golf app to search for tee times. 

It had only been about forty minutes since they’d called roadside assistance when the flatbed tow truck pulled in. Jake was impressed with the speediness. “Now, that’s what I call, under-promise and over-deliver.” 

* * *

Riley watched as the driver descended from the cab of the tow truck and headed their way. He was a big guy, probably in his mid-forties, with a long scraggly beard hanging way down over his chest. Jake got out and talked with him for a bit, then came back and poked his head into the car. “Riley, grab your purse or whatever you need and jump out. He’s going to drive the car up onto the flatbed and chain it up.” He switched to his best imitation of the driver’s thick southern drawl. “We’ll be raddin’ with him in the cab of that thay-er truck.”

           Riley climbed into the cab, while Jake stayed outside watching Longbeard take the car up the ramp. The rusty hinges grated as she pulled the door open. The cab was filthy—garbage and food wrappers all over and a layer of dust at least a quarter inch deep across the dash. The Hula dancer bobblehead had managed to shake most of the dust off herself, but, even still, she didn’t look happy to be there.

An ashtray full of smelly cigarette buts hung open on an angle in front of her. Riley tilted her knees to one side of it, then discreetly took a quick Snapchat video to send to her younger sister. She added some text: “S.C. Posh Tow Truck, LOL”. Riley laughed to herself, thinking about how Scotty would crack up when she saw it. Growing up, Riley had been the neat freak and couldn’t stand any dust or mess, while Scotty would rarely clean her room. 

The door grated again as Jake climbed into the cab. Longbeard was still doing whatever he was doing to chain up the car. Jake scanned the inside of the cab. The sun was starting to break through the clouds, and intermittent rays of sunshine struggled to make their way through the streaks and layers of cigarette scum on the windshield. Jake settled into his seat. “Well, this is special, isn’t it?”

When Longbeard got in, Riley edged over toward Jake as much as she could. Longbeard was breathing heavily. “That’s too bad ’bout yer flat tire. Where y’all headed?” 

“Back home to Niagara Falls, Ontario,” Jake said. “We were hoping to make it as far as Columbia tonight, but that’s not happening now.” Riley was grateful that Jake opened his window a few inches to let in some fresh air. Keeping the conversation going, he asked Longbeard, “Are you a Panthers fan or maybe Falcons?”

“Falcons—sometimes me and the boys go on down to ’Lanta for a game.”

Oh, here we go, Riley thought. Jake was a big sports fan and followed the NFL pretty closely. If there was an opportunity to talk sports, he’d be all over it.

“Oh yeah, they’ve got a great wide receiver, Julio Jones,” Jake shared some stats that inspired more discussion. 

The conversation went on much longer than Riley would have liked, and she certainly had nothing to add. She didn’t pay much attention to American football, although she had a huge amount of respect for Colin Kaepernick. The way the league had treated him made her even less interested in the NFL. 

She wondered why Longbeard was signalling to leave the highway when the only sign she’d seen was for someplace called Coosawhatchie. When she’d looked at the map earlier, she’d thought they’d be going much farther down the highway before exiting. “The exits for Hilton Head are still quite a way down I95, aren’t they?” she asked politely.

“Well, lem’me tell ya. This time a day, the 95’ll be backed right up. This here shortcut will be the quickest route.” 

They drove down an access road then turned onto a dirt backroad heading into a forested area. The trees were covered with dangling webs of Spanish moss. Riley was feeling uneasy but didn’t want to overreact. After all, they were still heading southeast for the most part, so maybe this was some sort of shortcut the locals used. 

She looked at Jake. He seemed a bit baffled too. “Hey, man,” he said, keeping his tone casual. “Where are you taking us, anyway?” 

Longbeard kept driving and smiled showing his yellow teeth. “Now, y’all don’t pitch a hissy. This might not look like much of a road, but it’ll link us right up with the 462 to Hilton Head. Then, y’all can get yer tire fixed.” 

Riley wanted to question him on that, but didn’t want to seem rude. Jake pulled out his phone, she could see him opening Google Maps. Maybe he could verify their location. A second later, he nudged her and angled his phone toward her. He’d lost service.

The road had become nothing more than a dirt path. Riley was getting scared. It sure didn’t seem like this was going to link up with any other road. They were being taken farther and farther into the woodlands, and she could see swampy sections on each side of the path. She elbowed Jake, and this time he spoke in a much more forceful tone. “Okay, listen. I think you’d better turn around and take us back out to the highway right now.”

Longbeard slowed the truck down. “Okay, okay, don’t get your knickers in a knot. I’ve been runnin’ all over hell’s half acre on account a you folk.” He brought the truck to a stop and mumbled under his breath, “Y’ain’t nothin’ but a pair a highfalutin…” 

Suddenly he reached under his seat and pulled out a knife. In a second flat, he had his big sweaty arm around Riley’s neck and held the knife up next to her face. Riley grabbed onto his arm, trying to loosen it from her throat. It was so tight; she was starting to choke. 

“Well, I declare. She sure is a feisty little thing, ain't she?” His hot, stale breath wafted along the side of her face.

Jake clenched his jaw; he looked ready to rip the guy’s head off. Instead, he put his hands up, keeping them in Longbeard’s view. “Let her go!” he yelled.” Riley knew there was nothing he could do—not with a knife held against her. “Please!” Jake pled. “We’ll give you whatever you want. Just let her go!” 

Longbeard pressed the tip of his knife against Riley’s face telling her to hold still. She tried to pull away, wincing as the knife pierced her cheek. She felt a sharp, searing pain. She pressed her head back against his chest, trying to prevent the knife from going in any deeper. Blood dripped onto her blouse. The frantic look on Jake’s face only heightened her fear. He was yelling “Stop it! Please—let her go!” She tried her best to hold still.

Longbeard pulled his arm tighter under her chin, lifting her partially off the seat. “Now y’all listen up,” he said. “Here’s what you’re gonna do. Take them batteries and SIM cards out of yer phones and pitch ’em out the window right now.