Both women were silent. “I miss those days,” Sarah whispered.

“I do, too,” Mary said.

Sarah sniffled. It was the cold that made her eyes water. Digging through her purse, she couldn’t find a single tissue. Mary gave her one.

“I’ve missed you,” Sarah said and loudly blew her nose.

“I’ve missed you, too.”

The cold must have intensified, because her eyes began to water even more. Using her coat sleeve, she wiped her nose.

“Here,” she said to Mary, handing her the flask. “I want you to have this. Take the rest.”

“The Scotch?”

Sarah nodded. “If we’re not found until it’s too late—I want you to have the liquor. It might keep you alive long enough for the rescue people to revive you.”

Mary looked as though she was close to bursting into tears. “You’d die for—me?” She hiccuped on the last word.

Sarah nodded again.

“That’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“But before I die, I need to ask you something.”

“Anything,” Mary told her. “Anything at all.”

Sarah sniffled and swallowed a sob. Leaning her forehead against the steering wheel, she whispered, “Forgive me.”

Mary placed her hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “I do forgive you, but first you have to forgive me for acting so badly. You were right—I was jealous of Cheryl. I thought you liked her better than me.”

“Never. She’s one of those people who move in and out of a person’s life, but you—you’re my…my soul sister. I’ve missed you so much.”

“We’re idiots.” Mary returned the flask. “I can’t accept this Scotch. If we freeze, we freeze together.”

Sarah was feeling downright toasty at the moment. The world was spinning, but that was probably because she was drunker than a skunk. The thought made her giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Mary wanted to know.

“We’re drunk,” she muttered. “Drunk as skunks. Drunk as skunks,” she recited in a singsong voice.

“Isn’t it wonderful?”

They laughed again.

“Jake always insists I eat something when I’ve had too much to drink.”

“We have lots of food,” Mary said, sitting up straight.

“Yes, but most of it’s half-frozen by now.”

Mary’s eyes gleamed bright. “Not everything. I’m sure the families would want us to take what we need, don’t you think?”

“I’m sure you’re right,” Sarah said as Mary climbed over the front seat and into the back, her coat flipping over her head.

Sarah laughed so hard she nearly peed her pants.

Women’s Century Club Rose, Oregon

December 24

Dear Mary and Sarah,