What a storm! To hell with that last fare. Though I suppose I'm the one to blame—I should have just turned down a call that far out into the countryside.
It was nearly the end of my shift, but I got greedy chasing a big tip. Now here I am, white-knuckling the steering wheel and praying I make it back in one piece. The rain is coming down in sheets, and the wind is whipping so hard the trees are practically doubling over. It's a total nightmare.
I had to slow way down just to stay on the asphalt. Suddenly, a small figure flashed in the glare of my headlights. A girl! Is she out of her mind?
"What are you doing out here?" I shouted through the window as I pulled up beside her. "Get in the car!"
She hesitated for a split second before climbing into the passenger seat. The poor thing was soaked to the bone and shivering uncontrollably.
"Thank you so much for stopping," she said, her voice trembling. "I've been trying to hitch a ride for an hour, but everyone just kept driving. I… I don't have much money on me, though."
"Don't worry about it," I told her. "I'm heading back toward town anyway. I'll give you a lift for free. How did you end up out here at this hour?"
"I had a fight with my fiancé."
"And he just left you here? In the middle of the woods, in the middle of the night, in this weather?"
She only gave a solemn nod.
"How could he? What kind of man does that?"
The girl remained silent, but I could see tears tracking down her cheeks—or perhaps it was just the rainwater.
"Where do you live?" I asked.
"Not far. There's a neighborhood of summer cottages just outside the city limits. My house is the first one on the edge."
Suddenly, her icy fingers gripped my arm with terrifying strength. She screamed.
"Pull over! Right now! Pull over!"
"What? Why?"
"I feel sick! I need air!"
I slammed on the brakes. The girl bolted out of the car like a shot. I was about to go after her to help when a deafening roar and the sound of snapping timber erupted behind us. Spinning around toward the road, I saw the blinding high beams of a semi-truck. It had fishtailed on the bend, narrowly avoiding the ravine by plowing through several thick trees right where I would have been driving.
My God. If I hadn't stopped, I'd be dead. That girl just saved my life.
***
I ran over to the crash site immediately. The trucker had already climbed out of the cab, appearing shaken but miraculously unhurt.
"Let me drive you into town," I offered.
"No, thanks," he grunted. "I've already called for help on the radio. You get going."
Walking back to my car, I called out for my passenger. She slipped back into the seat and sat there quietly.
"If it wasn't for you, I would've been in that wreck," I said, my heart still racing. "Thank you. Truly."
"You see how it works?" she said with a small smile. "First you helped me, then I helped you."
We drove in silence for a while before I turned into the lane leading to the cottages.
"We're here," the girl said. "That's my house. I'd invite you in, but it's so late. Thank you again for the ride."
"I should be thanking you. What's your name?"
"Faith," she replied.
"Goodnight, Faith. And leave that fiancé of yours. He isn't worth it."
***
The following weekend, I bought a bouquet of flowers and drove out to Faith's house. I wanted to thank her properly. I walked up to the porch and knocked.
A woman in her mid-forties answered. She looked exactly like Faith.
"Good afternoon. Sorry to bother you, but is Faith home? We met recently, and I just wanted to stop by..."
"My daughter is dead," the woman interrupted, her voice hollow.
I felt the blood drain from my face. It had only been a week since we spoke.
"I'm so sorry..." I whispered.
"Faith died in a car accident along with her fiancé, Jason. If you like, we can go to the cemetery. You can leave the flowers there. she always loved them."
We walked to the edge of the neighborhood, through a gate, and into a world where no one was in a hurry anymore. There was no need.
Faith's mother walked past the newer headstones and stopped, for some reason, at the very back of the graveyard.
"She's here," she said, gesturing tiredly toward a monument featuring a photograph of her daughter.
I didn't understand. A permanent headstone already? Usually, those take a year to set. Then I looked at the date of death. My stomach did a slow roll. The date etched into the stone was from last year.
"The anniversary was just a week ago," the mother said, noticing me staring at the dates.
A cold dread washed over me. Either I was dreaming, or a week ago, I had a ghost in my passenger seat.
"Did you only have the one daughter?"
"Yes. Just Faith. I'm all alone now."
I placed the flowers on the grave and looked at the photo one last time. Faith looked exactly as I remembered her: beautiful, gentle, and above all—alive.
"I'm so sorry for your loss. I… I have to go now. Take care of yourself."
"Thank you for remembering her," she said softly.
I never told Faith's mother what had happened a week prior. I didn't want to cause her more pain; she had suffered enough.
But now, every night, I find myself silently saying thank you to Faith.
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