Grandma ignored her. Panic rose up in Bea’s chest. What was she supposed to do? She pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans with her other hand. No signal and a low battery. This was not good. Grandma dragged her along as she continued up the road, past two little white crosses marking the site of a fatal accident. Grandma didn’t notice them.

Where was she getting her strength? She was a couple of inches taller than Bea, who took after her petite mother in size, but Bea never expected that Grandma could pull her along like a toddler.

The snow muted all sounds except their feet clomping along the road. They rounded a bend, and Bea looked back. She couldn’t see the car anymore and had serious doubts about getting it back on the road without help. But she needed to get Grandma back inside it, and she needed to do it now. What would convince her?

She resisted as much as possible, slowing Grandma’s progress, and checked her phone again. Just up ahead, at the top of a hill, was something of a clearing. If they reached it, perhaps she would be able to pick up one bar of service. That was all she needed. One measly bar.

She pulled up her messaging app with one hand and hesitated. At the top of the list were two names: Jeremy and Dad. She’d only have the chance to send one text, if any. She began to type, unable to look at the screen as she stumbled along. She hoped the words would make sense if they went through.

Grandma gave Bea’s hand an extra hard tug, and Bea lost her balance. Pain shot up her leg as her right knee hit the pavement with a cold, wet splash. She winced, but Grandma wasn’t about to slow down. She dragged Bea to her feet and continued walking. Bea prayed no cars would come around the bend.

“Let’s go back, Grandma.”

Grandma June reached the clearing and stopped, panting. Bea thanked God under her breath and quickly checked her phone. She’d been right. There was one bar. She held the phone above her head, said another prayer, and hit send.

Grandma looked at her with hollow eyes. “I will never forget.”

“Of course not.” Bea shoved her phone into her coat pocket, having no idea whether her message went through. “And I will never forget this trip up the mountain. Now let’s go back to the car.”

Her grandma let go of her hand and turned in circles, disoriented. Bea bit back her fear and racked her brain for something to convince Grandma June to listen. The snow showed no sign of letting up, and she thought of the blizzard that had nearly been the demise of old Miner McGee.

Wait.

That was it.