Ski Lodge

23// New Years Eve

"Who was that?" He whispers.

"Just Gloria," I respond.

"Oh, okay," Emmett looks relieved, "are you going to shower?" He asks and his lips quirk up on one side.

"Yes, of course," I reply as I slide past him into the bathroom and click the lock behind me. I let my breathing steady, and I pull my hair up into a bun on top of my head before stepping into the warm water.

Twenty minutes later, Emmett and I are sitting next to each other in a shuttle that carries four other passengers and the sallow driver is anxiously picking his way around the side of the snowy mountain back to the lodge.

"I'll be glad to see my mom again," I say awkwardly.

"I miss my mom too," Emmett responds.

"Mine's probably in hysterics by now. I can imagine my dad carrying around smelling salts like in the Jane Austen books." I laugh.

"Your mom handles emergencies pretty well," Emmett responds.

"You sound like you're speaking from experience. When have you ever seen my mom in an emergency?"

"When my mom got breast cancer. Your mom actually offered to take me in and watch me while my mom was at the hospital. She had a lot already with you on her hands, " he said as he bumped his knee lightly into mine.

"You said no?"

"I didn't want you to know that my mom had cancer, and I figured being in your home would definitely raise some questions. Plus, I wanted to be with my mom. Even when it got scary."

"That makes sense. I don't think my mom told me that she had even offered."

"I don't know why she would have."

"I think I underestimate her sometimes. I know she cares, even if she isn't a storybook hero who would brave the slopes to come and get me."

Emmett nodded solemnly before turning his head out the window. He cocked his head and turned back saying, "she might surprise you."

The shuttle came to a stop a couple of miles outside of the ski lodge. The driver anxiously rubbing his hands together groaned, "I can't make it past here in the shuttle; you will have to walk."

So Emmett and I pressed ourselves out of our seats and started to shuffle, hunched over and blinded by fur-lined coats towards the door. As I stepped off of the stuffy, fried food scented van and into the crisp, snowy air, Emmett's words - she might surprise you - rang true. My mother; all 5'7" of bleach blonde and Texan tan was running towards me like a linebacker on a football field.

"Mom!" I shouted incredulously as her arms squeezed around me. I squeezed back, feeling my eyes water.

"C'mon baby," my mom ushered me to a rented Subaru, "let's go get you some hot cocoa."

I cuddled my mom's arm the entire rest of the drive. Emmett was in the back seat staring out the window at the cold, snowy mountain peaks.

The little sedan had to stop before entering the lodge since there were no cars allowed on the cobbled streets. So my mom handed the keys to a valet, and we walked into the wood welcome center and up to the front desk to request a cart to take us to our townhouse.

"I can walk," I said to my mom.

"Save your strength, baby," she kissed me on the top of my head. My arms were still curled around her; she was warm and safe. Emmett approached my other side.

"Look at the lights," he pointed up the wood hallway, flanked on each side by stripped logs. There was a massive fire on the roaring, its flames glimmering off of a steel ladder that workers were perched on while hanging twinkling lights across the oak beams of the ceiling.