Your Summer, My Winter

In the dead of a heat wave, my mother accidentally locked Charles Gilbert's secretary inside a car.

By the time I got back from checking in at the front desk, found my mother wandering off in one of her spells, and rushed us both back to the parking lot, Hildegarde Pruitt had already collapsed from heatstroke.

I brought a bag of get-well gifts to the hospital room to apologize. Charles didn't even look up.

"It's fine. Your mother's ill, she didn't mean it. Don't take it to heart."

Hildegarde, wrapped in a hospital gown, pale in the face, smiled along with him.

"That's right, Ethel Fox. It's all my own fault for falling asleep and not paying attention. It has nothing to do with your mother."

I let out a breath, thinking the whole thing was behind us.

Until a week later, when Charles called.

He said he'd pulled some strings and gotten an appointment with a top medical specialist from overseas, and told me to bring my mother over right away.

But the Maybach tore down the road and didn't stop at any hospital. It pulled up at the entrance of a cold-storage warehouse out past the edge of town.

He shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over one arm.

Then he pointed at a table with a spinning wheel on it that had appeared inside the warehouse at some point.

"The doctor's stuck in traffic. He won't be here for at least another forty minutes."

"We've got time to kill, so we might as well play a game to pass it."

The wheel was divided into four sections, each marked with one of our four names.

"Whoever the needle lands on goes and waits in the freezer next door."

"First round is five minutes. Every time you lose after that, add another five."

The iron door of the freezer gave off a cold sheen. You could feel the chill rolling off it even standing at the entrance.

Charles laid out the rules like they were nothing, then let out a scornful little laugh.

"Place your bets, accept your losses. Just for fun."

My face changed in an instant, and I pushed my mother behind me.

"No. My mother has an underlying condition, her lungs are bad, she can't handle the cold. If you all want to play, play. My mother and I aren't part of this."

Hildegarde took a step forward and coaxed me in that gentle voice of hers.

"Ethel, it's just a little game. The freezer isn't that cold. It's only a few minutes, nothing's going to happen."

"I said no. She's a sick woman. You'd gamble with a sick woman's body?"

The smile dropped off Charles's face in an instant.

"Ethel, the rules are the same for everyone. If I lose, I go in too."

He leaned against the edge of the table and tapped the wheel with a fingertip.

"What, everyone else can play, but your mother's too precious? It's rare I have time to spare. Don't be a killjoy."

"This isn't about precious or not"

He cut me off, his tone level.

"If you won't play, then I can't very well push the specialist to come."

"You know how busy a medical specialist is. Miss him today, and who knows when you'll get another appointment."

My whole body went rigid.

Over the past six months my mother's memory had been slipping faster and faster. Sometimes she didn't even recognize me.

This specialist was the only hope I had right now.

I didn't have a choice.

I clenched my palms, my nails digging in until it hurt, and asked carefully, "Then let my mother sit out. Change her name to mine. If I lose, I take her punishment. Would that work?"

Charles didn't even lift his head. His voice was cold.

"You alone taking fifty percent of the odds? Then how is it a game? Word gets out, and people who don't know better will think Charles Gilbert can't take a loss."

The standoff dragged on. Then he laughed softly.

"Looks like your mother's illness isn't so urgent after all. In that case"

Before he could finish, my mother tugged at the hem of my clothes, dazed, and leaned close to whisper in my ear.

"When are we going home? My daughter will worry if she can't find me."

My throat tightened. I smoothed her hair and turned back to Charles.

"Fine. You keep your word. We play these rounds, and the specialist will definitely come?"

"When have I ever lied to you?"

He smiled and reached out to spin the wheel.

"Let's begin."

First round, the wheel spun fast.

Then it slowed, the pointer wavering before it settled firmly on my mother's name.

Hildegarde covered her mouth and gasped.

"Looks like luck isn't on Mrs. Fox's side today."

Charles tipped his chin.

The bodyguard beside him stepped forward at once and pulled open the door of the freezer unit.

Cold air rolled out, and my mother shrank behind me on instinct.

Charles looked at me.

"Five minutes. Door opens when the time's up."

"Can't I take her place?"

"Ethel, I don't like people who go back on their word."

I gritted my teeth and bent down to explain to her.

"Mom, we're just going in for a little while, only five minutes, and we'll come right back out, okay?"

The old woman nodded like she half understood, gripping my hand and refusing to let go.

Five minutes felt as long as five hours.

I pressed against the door, listening to the coughing that came from inside now and then, my heart wrung tight.

Finally the five minutes passed.

When the door opened, my mother's lips had gone purple with cold. She shivered, unable to get her words out straight.

All she could do was clutch my hand and say she was cold.

I quickly pulled off my coat and wrapped it around her, then looked up at Charles.

"There. We've played your game. We're done with the rest of it."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Done after one round? The doctor's still half an hour out. You're going to just sit around that whole time?"

"Charles"

"Three more rounds."

He cut me off, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

"After three rounds the doctor arrives right on time. If you don't even have that much patience, then the illness can go untreated for all I care."

I looked at his cold face, and my heart sank, bit by bit.

This wasn't killing time.

This was going to kill her.

But my mother couldn't afford to wait.

I drew a breath and nodded.

"Fine. Three rounds, then."

A twenty-five percent chance. I didn't believe my mother could be that unlucky.

Second round, the pointer stopped on my mother's name again.

Ten minutes.

Third round, her again.

Fifteen minutes this time.

When the door opened, my mother could no longer stand steady.

She held on to the door frame, coughing without stop, her nose red raw from the cold.

"Sweetheart, cold..."

The tears fell at once.

I held her and rubbed her arms over and over, then turned and shouted at Charles.

"Enough! Three rounds are done, we're not playing anymore! When is the specialist actually getting here?"

Charles's face darkened.

"Too late to quit now. Do I really have to teach you what it means to accept your losses?"

"The driver just texted. He ran into a car crash on his way to pick up the doctor. Held up half an hour. Perfect timing. One more overtime round."

Hildegarde stood beside him and gave his sleeve a gentle tug.

"Mr. Gilbert, maybe we should just let it go. Mrs. Fox really doesn't seem able to take any more... It's my fault, I shouldn't have suggested this game."

"It has nothing to do with you."

Charles patted her hand, and when he looked back at me, his eyes turned ice-cold in an instant.

"She agreed to this herself. One last round. She plays whether she wants to or not."

My eyes went red with panic.

"You just said we were done!"

"Are you bargaining with me?"

The moment he finished, he reached out and gave the wheel a hard spin.

I stared at that pointer, my heart turning with the wheel.

It slowed by degrees.

Past Charles's name, past Hildegarde's name.

And then, once more, it settled firmly on my mother's name.

Twenty-five minutes.

The blood in my whole body ran cold.

"Impossible... how can it be her every single time?"

Charles let out a scornful laugh.

"Just bad luck. Don't tell me you can't stand to lose?"

My eyes red, my voice shot up.

"Charles, she's my mother!"

"Twenty-five minutesshe'll get sick from the cold!"

He leaned back against the chair, his tone careless.

"And so what?"

"When she locked Hildegarde in that car, did she ever stop to think about whether something might happen to her?"

I whipped around to look at him.

So he hadn't forgotten. Not for a second.

From the very start, he'd come here to get revenge for Hildegarde.

I stared at that cold face of his and let out a bitter little laugh at myself.

"Fine. Twenty-five minutes, right? I'll go in with her."

Charles looked away.

"Suit yourself. Just don't come out crying about the cold and playing the victim with me."

The door of the cold-storage unit slid open a crack behind me, and I helped my mother step out into the corridor.

Around the corner, Hildegarde's voice suddenly reached me.

Kept low, but pitched just right to slide into my ears.

"Mr. Gilbert, that's four rounds in a row she's lost. Isn't it getting too obvious? What if she figures out the wheel's been rigged?"

Charles laughed, careless.

"So what if she does? That specialist nonsense was a lie to begin with."

"You nearly baked to death in that car the other day. Until I settle that score, I won't feel right. Letting her mother freeze a while is getting off light."

"Besides, her whole family lives off me. Even if she knows I rigged it, do you think she'd dare say one word against me?"

Hildegarde gave a soft little hum, then softened her voice into that pitiful act again.

"Honestly, you didn't have to go to all this trouble... Just knowing you care about me is enough."

Charles's voice warmed with a smile.

"Silly girl. Anyone who dares make you suffer, I'll make sure they pay. Every last one."

I stood in the corridor, cold all through.

The chill climbed up from the soles of my feet and crawled through my veins until my teeth were chattering.

So there was no specialist at all.

No traffic jam, no killing time.

The whole day had been a setup from the very first minute.

To settle a score for Hildegarde, he'd been willing to gamble with my mother's life.

My nails dug deep into my flesh, and the pain nearly took my legs out from under me.

My mother tugged at my hand and asked in a small voice,

"Nunu, aren't we going back in?"

I drew a deep breath, pressed down the sting in my throat, and slowly turned around.

Charles had just walked up. Seeing me standing at the door without going in, he frowned.

"Why aren't you inside yet? What are you dawdling for?"

I lifted my head and looked at him.

That sharp-featured face still pulled at me the way it always had.

Five years ago, at our wedding, he'd gone down on one knee.

He'd said that from then on he was my sky, that he'd shield me from every storm.

But now, every storm was one he'd brought.

I said nothing.

The smile fell from Hildegarde's face, replaced with a look of concern.

"Ethel, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?"

I looked at her coldly and asked her, one word at a time,

"Hildegarde, you've been acting for so long. Aren't you tired?"

Her eyes reddened on the spot.

"Ethel, what do you mean? I don't understand."

I took a step closer, pressing in.

"Heatstroke, a fainting spell, and in exchange my mother pays you back with half her life. Quite the bargain, isn't it?"

"Enough!"

Charles snapped at me.

He strode forward in a single stride, planting himself in front of Hildegarde, his face iron-gray.

"What's gotten into you? Hildegarde was worried about your mother and came all this way to check on her, and this is how you talk to her?"

"She was worried?"

I laughed until my chest ached.

Tears rolled off Hildegarde's face like beads from a snapped string.

But she still forced herself to keep up the understanding act.

"Ethel, how can you say that about me? Your mother's sick, her memory's not good. I've never once blamed her."

"It's just... it's just that day I kept banging on the car door, calling out to her for so long, and she clearly turned and glanced at me, and still she didn't come help me..."

She sniffled, her voice growing more wounded.

"I know. Maybe your mother heard some gossip, thought I was getting too close to Mr. Gilbert, and it upset her, so she did it."

"I can keep my distance from Mr. Gilbert. There's no need for her to scare me like this..."

"That's a lie!"

Every scrap of the composure I'd been so proud of shattered in that instant.

My mother couldn't even remember where our home was. How could she have locked the car on purpose?

She was smearing my mother on purpose.

I raised my hand and slapped her.

The crack of it rang out, and the room went dead silent.

Hildegarde cupped her cheek, the tears coming faster now.

Charles pushed her behind him, his chest heaving with fury, and roared at me.

"You dare put a hand on her?"

"Didn't you hear her frame my mother? My mother is so sick she doesn't even recognize me. What gives her the right to smear her?"

Charles cut me off, his voice sharp.

"She wasn't wrong!"

"I've seen the footage from that day. Before your mother locked the car, she really did look back!"

"Hildegarde let it go because she's an invalid, and here you are, pushing your luck!"

He pointed at the door of the cold-storage room, his voice cold as ice.

"Since you can't manage your mother, I'll do it for you."

"Where are the guards? Take her in and lock her up for two hours!"

"When she knows she's in the wrong and is willing to apologize to Hildegarde, then we open the door!"

"Charles, are you insane? Two hours will freeze her to death!"

I rushed forward to stop them, but the guards pinned me down.

"She won't die."

"I'll have them put two down jackets in with her. That's plenty of warmth. Two hours of cold, nothing more. Nothing's going to happen."

I screamed at him, my eyes burning red.

"But what if it does? Can you take the responsibility for that? That's my mother!"

"I can."

His eyes were ice, without a shred of give.

"Ethel, I'm warning you for the last time. The twenty-plus thousand a month for your mother's medication and her caregiver, every cent of that comes from me."

"Keep making trouble, and starting tomorrow, I won't give you a single cent of it. Your choice."

It was like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head.

The shards cracked open somewhere in my chest, and the ache of it went bone-deep.

He was right.

I had no job, no savings.

I couldn't hold this family up, and I couldn't save my mother.

Every bit of standing I had, he'd given me.

If he wanted to take it back, it would cost him a single sentence.

I looked at my mother, held fast by the guards, and the tears finally fell.

"Charles, I was wrong. I shouldn't have run my mouth, I shouldn't have hit Miss Pruitt. Please don't lock her in there, all right?"

He let go and turned his face away, cold.

"I gave you the chance a moment ago and you didn't take it. Now it's too late."

Hildegarde tugged at his arm.

"Mr. Gilbert, maybe just let it go... Ethel already apologized..."

Charles patted her hand, his tone going soft.

"No. Some people never learn the rules until they're taught a lesson."

The iron door was hauled open, and the cold poured out.

I watched them shove my mother inside.

The door shut in my face again.

I pounded on it, shouting.

Pounded until my palms ached.

From inside came only the broken, hitching sobs of an old woman.

Charles stood behind me, his voice flat.

"Two hours. You stand here and think about what you've done."

With that, he turned and left, Hildegarde with him.

Only the two guards stayed, posted at the door.

I leaned against the freezing door and counted the time, second by second.

The second hand circled round and round.

Every second was its own slow cut.

I pictured my mother curled into a ball in there, and my heart hurt like it would burst.

Two hours finally passed.

I spun to the guards at once.

"Time's up. Open the door!"

The two of them stood ramrod straight, not moving an inch.

"Without Mr. Gilbert's order, we can't open it."

"Charles said it himself. Two hours, then open the door!"

The guards were expressionless.

"We only take orders from Mr. Gilbert. If he didn't say open it, it stays shut."

A chill shot up from the soles of my feet.

"What is he playing at? Going back on his word?"

I lunged forward to open it myself, but a guard's arm blocked me.

"Mrs. Fox, please cooperate."

I was shaking all over, pointing at them, too furious to get a word out.

Just then the radio at a guard's waist crackled.

I couldn't make out what was said.

The two guards exchanged a glance and walked off without a backward look.

Something dropped in my chest, and all at once panic took me.

"Don't go, open the door!"

But no one paid me any mind.

The footsteps grew fainter and finally vanished altogether.

The empty cold-storage warehouse held only me.

And, behind the iron door, my mother, whether alive or dead I didn't know.

I searched everywhere for a key like a madwoman.

I tore through the drawers at the duty desk until they were a wreck.

At last, in an iron box shoved to the very back, my fingers found a spare key.

My hands shook so badly it took three tries to line it up with the lock.

A click, and it opened.

I wrenched the door back.

The biting cold hit me full in the face, and I shuddered.

My mother sat against the far corner wall, on the floor.

Her head tilted to one side, eyes closed.

She still wore the sun jacket she'd left the house in, and a thin layer of white frost had settled over her shoulders.

Set neatly by her feet were the two down jackets.

The clear plastic packaging was intact, the seal never even broken.

In her sickness and confusion she'd had no idea they were for her to wear, no memory of how to tear the packaging open.

She'd just hugged her knees and huddled into the corner, holding out to the very end.

I stumbled over, crouched down, and touched her face.

Cold.

Like a stone with no warmth in it.

"Mom?"

I called out, testing, my voice trembling.

No answer.

I reached for her neck.

My fingertips met only cold.

No breath, no heartbeat.

She just sat there quietly, as if she were asleep.

Never again to call me her little girl, never again to take my hand and tell me she was cold.

I opened my mouth to cry out, but no sound would come.

The tears struck her frozen clothes and went cold in an instant.

Behind me, all at once, came Charles's impatient voice.

"Are you done making a scene? If you know you were wrong then"