by Beverly Long
Please let him be inside.
He switched off his headlamp, not wanting to blind Josh. He turned the handle of the door. It was locked. Raising his hand, he pounded hard against the door. “Josh. It’s Blaine. Open the door,” he yelled.
He waited, his heart thudding in his chest. Seconds dragged. He pounded again. “Josh, come on, buddy.”
Chapter 11
The door swung open. And there stood his son, looking small and frightened and cold. But whole. Gloriously whole.
Blaine stepped in, dropped his skis and wrapped his son tight in his arms. Realized that one or both of them were shaking. He finally pulled back. “Good to see you, Josh,” he said, managing to get words past the lump in his throat.
He pushed the door shut with his foot, but that didn’t cut the breeze in the cabin by that much. Then he used his powerful flashlight to scan the room. It had been twenty years since he’d been here, but it was pretty much what he remembered. One big room, maybe sixteen feet wide and twenty feet long. A bare canvas cot was bolted into one wall. Josh’s open backpack was on it. Across the way, attached to the opposite wall, were old bottom cupboards covered by a scratched, weathered countertop.
There was no other furniture, nothing that could be removed, nothing to tempt thieves. There were no appliances or even a sink because the cabin had never had running water or electricity. On the rear wall was a large stone fireplace. There was a pile of sticks in it and something that looked like wadded-up notebook paper, but it had not been lit. Josh’s skis were leaning up against the wall next to it, with a wet stocking cap hanging off the end of one ski.
The cabin was freezing. The broken window on the far wall wasn’t helping. The wind was whistling through. It answered the question of how Josh had gotten in. His thin body would have been just narrow enough to squeeze through.
“How did you find me?” Josh asked nervously.
“Determination and a little luck,” Blaine admitted. First things first, he needed to get them some heat. “Did you try to light a fire?”
“My matches got wet,” Josh said, sounding embarrassed.
Rookie mistake. “I think mine are dry,” Blaine replied easily. He dug them out of his pack and lit a match. It took a few seconds for the fire to take hold, but finally, there was a small flame. “Come here,” he said, stepping away so that his son could stand in front of the growing heat.
He took a minute to inspect the boy. He was still wearing his coat and gloves. When he squatted down, to get his face closer to the fire, his motor movements were coordinated. “You okay? Didn’t fall or anything getting here? Didn’t cut yourself on any glass getting through the window?”
Josh shook his head. “It was stupid. I was stupid. I didn’t realize it was going to be this cold.”
“Not stupid, Josh. Inexperienced, perhaps. We need to get that wind blocked.” He unzipped his pack and pulled a square of plastic that, once he unfolded it, was plenty big enough to cover the window. Then he opened the small tool kit and removed the half hammer and a handful of nails. In seconds, the plastic was secured around the edges, blocking the worst of the wind. “Not great, but it will help.”
“Better than I was able to do,” Josh muttered. “I thought the door would be open. Since nobody uses it,” he added.
“Nobody uses it, but like any Colton property, it still gets checked routinely to make sure it’s secure, free of rodents and any other intruders.”
“I’ll pay for the window,” Josh said. “I broke it, after all.”
His son was a stand-up kind of kid. He liked that. “We can discuss that later,” Blaine replied easily. “I’m glad you got inside.”
“I guess I was at least that smart,” Josh said, sounding discouraged.
“I never doubted that you’d be smart. And now I need to call your mom and tell her the good news.” He removed the satellite phone from his pack. “I need to step outside. In the meantime, I’ll bet you’re hungry. I’ve got some candy bars, some trail mix and some peanut butter crackers.”
Josh smiled. “I would eat anything right now.”
Blaine tossed him the food, then pulled his collar tight and opened the cabin door. He walked a short distance and turned the phone on. He held it so that the antenna was vertical and hoped for the best. Not only was the weather, with its heavy, overcast skies and ongoing precipitation, not conducive to satellite communications, the cabin was situated in a hollow. Taller mountains surrounded them, impeding a good signal.
“Come on,” Blaine muttered. He tried walking around in a circle. Tilda would be so worried. He wanted to relieve that stress.
But it didn’t seem as if that was going to be possible. He considered his alternatives, all of which involved moving to a different location and meant leaving Josh. Not acceptable.
He and Josh would leave at first light. He returned to the cabin. Josh was sitting on the floor in front of the fire, eating the snacks. Blaine sat down next to him. The cot might have been more comfortable to sit on, but quite frankly, it wasn’t close enough to the fire.
“What did mom say?” Josh asked.
“Phone isn’t picking up a signal. I couldn’t reach her.”
“I guess I’m kind of glad,” his son admitted. “She’s going to be mad.”
“Thankful,” Blaine corrected. “And maybe a little mad. But mostly thankful. She tracked your phone, and we saw the note. That worried her.” He wasn’t trying to guilt the kid, but he wanted him to realize that there were consequences to his actions. “She loves you very much.”
“I know that.” He turned his face away from Blaine. “You don’t like her very much, do you?”
The question surprised him. “That’s not true,” he said thickly.
“I heard the two of you arguing last night.”
Damn. “I’m sorry that happened. I... I got stupid when you told me that your mom was out on a date. I overreacted and didn’t handle myself well.”
“I don’t think she even likes that guy all that much.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said, trying to ignore the fact that those simple words made him happy. “Your mom can date. She can do whatever she wants.”
“You have a girlfriend,” Josh said. It was a statement but said like an accusation.
“No, that’s not correct.”
“You got in trouble because the two of you had sex.”
Aha. Rumors of his relationship with Honor Shayne were out there. He expected no less. But to have his son be the one to repeat them was a little tough. And he wasn’t exactly sure he was prepared for a discussion about sex.
But if not now, then when?
“Adults can make a decision to become close, to enjoy a physical relationship. To have sex,” he said, wanting to be honest in his communication. “That’s not wrong. Where Honor—that’s her name—and I erred is that we had a commanding officer who felt that our relationship was inappropriate.”
“So it’s true. You got kicked out of the army.”
Two short sentences. A sharp dagger to his heart. “Yes,” he said. “I’m not happy about or proud of that. I am, however, very proud of how I served for thirteen years.” He stared into the fire. “Your mom mentioned that she’d heard that there was some online chatter about you being a Colton. Was all this that we just talked about a part of that?”
“Yeah. They said that you walked away from it smelling like a rose because the Coltons walk away from everything smelling like roses, even when they leave crap behind.”
“A kid said this?”
“Yeah. He’s in my class.”
It didn’t sound like something a thirteen-year-old would come up with. No doubt the kid had heard his parent or maybe even grandparent say something. “Josh, the Coltons have been in Roaring Springs since the 1800s. They worked very hard, and they did well. And they saved their mone
y and invested it and made more money. That doesn’t make them bad people. Just the opposite.” He released a breath. “That’s what people are supposed to do. Work hard, save money, invest, provide for their family. But sometimes other people see the Coltons and see the things that they have, and they’re not happy about it.”
“Why would that tick them off?” Josh asked curiously.
“Not sure, to be honest. Maybe they’re jealous, maybe they’re simply tired because they’ve been working hard, too, but it hasn’t worked out as well for them. For whatever reason, they say things that are hurtful. Behind our backs and sometimes even to our faces.” He reached out and squeezed his son’s shoulder. “But as a Colton, you have to learn to toughen up a little bit, to not let it get under your skin.”
“A bastard Colton,” Josh said.
Blaine thought of what Sarah had said, that kids could be horrible to each other. “Bastard is an ugly word, Josh. It’s a word that people throw around to make other people feel like they are something less.” He cleared his throat and looked Blaine square in the eye. “Here’s what you need to remember. I’m proud as hell that you’re my son. I maybe wasn’t married to your mom when you were born, but that doesn’t change anything. I love you.” It was the first time he’d said it. Maybe it was too soon. But he didn’t care. He wanted Josh to know it.
“I don’t want to have to choose between the two of you.”
His son’s voice was thick with unshed tears. “Never going to be necessary, Josh. Your mom and I are committed to both being great parents to you.”
“I heard her crying.”
Blaine wondered if he could feel worse. “I’m going to try very hard to make sure that doesn’t happen ever again.”
For a long time, neither of them said anything. They simply sat in the dark, in front of the fire and listened to the sap-heavy wood crackle and spit.
Finally, Josh shifted. “I’m really glad you came back.”
Hope spiked in Blaine. “Me, too.”
“I’m so tired,” Josh admitted.
Blaine stretched out his legs. Used his arm to guide Josh down so that his head rested on Blaine’s thighs. Once his son was stretched out, he used one of the two blankets to cover him and the other one to wrap around his own shoulders. “Sleep well, son. When morning comes, we’re going home.”
* * *
Mara Colton slept in the spare room. In a T-shirt that she borrowed from Tilda. And in the morning, she got dressed in the same clothes that she’d worn the day before, as if that was perfectly normal, and sat at Tilda’s kitchen table, drinking coffee. Tilda offered her toast. She declined.
When a text arrived on Tilda’s phone at 7:12 a.m., both women jumped. Tilda grabbed for it, read the short message and let out a sob. Mara leaned over her shoulder to read the phone. Then she wrapped her arms around Tilda, and both women wept.
Finally, Mara straightened up. “I’ll be going now.”
Tilda held up her phone. “Blaine says they’ll be here by eight. You waited this long.”
“Thank you,” Mara said. “But now that I know they’re both safe, I’m going to go home, take a shower, change clothes and go to work. Tell Josh that I’d be delighted if he could make lunch on Saturday.”
“He’ll be there,” Tilda promised.
“And you, too, of course,” Mara added. She put on her coat and gloves. “Goodbye, Tilda.”
She opened the door and walked out. Tilda hesitated just a second before following her outside, paying no attention to how cold the snowy front steps were on her bare feet. “Thank you,” she said. “It was...really very kind of you to stay.”
Mara smiled and got into her car.
Tilda stood on her front porch, watching her drive away, until she could no longer see the car. Then she went back inside, picked up her phone and read the message again.
We are both safe. Back at The Lodge. On our way to your house. He’s okay. Truly.
She danced around her kitchen, laughing. On her second pass through, she caught a glimpse of herself in the hallway mirror.
Oh, good grief. She looked like she’d been crying all night. No way did she want Josh to see that. He’d feel horrible.
She ran to her bathroom and turned on the shower. Before stepping in, she took the time to send a quick text to her parents to let them know that Josh was safe. Her mom responded immediately, with thirteen red hearts. Likely one for each of Josh’s thirteen years.
Tilda took the fastest shower of her life. Then got dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt. She managed to get her thick hair almost dry before she gave up. Halfway down the hallway, she heard a knock.
Running to the door, she wrenched it open and held her arms out to her son.
Chapter 12
She hugged him tight, her nose buried in his bulky coat. Josh smelled of pine and smoke, and she hoped that meant that wherever he’d spent the night he’d been warm. She looked up, over his shoulder, and saw Blaine, who looked very tired.
“Thank you,” she mouthed.
He nodded. “Sat phone didn’t work. I sent the message as soon as we had cell-phone service.”
Her son pulled back. “I’m sorry,” he choked out.
She saw a vulnerability that reminded her of a much younger Josh. “You’re safe. That’s what matters,” she told him.
“He’s probably hungry,” Blaine said. He moved out of the doorway, into the house. Closing the door behind him. He evidently intended to stay.
Likely didn’t want Josh out of his sight. She understood that.
“Pancakes?” she asked, looking at Josh.
“Bacon, too?” he replied hopefully.
She smiled. Her son’s face was dirty, as were his hands. His thick hair was slightly matted. But he looked whole. “Maybe you should take a quick shower,” she suggested.
“Am I going to school?”
“Not today. I’m staying home, too.”
“You’re taking the day off?” he asked.
“Yep.” She’d called in to school late the night before, when it had become apparent that it would be morning before she heard anything.
“Do you have my phone?”
“I do. And you can have it back after we’ve had a chance to talk. Right now, I want you to go get cleaned up.”
He turned and went without another word. When he was out of earshot, she looked at Blaine. “He would usually throw a fit if I withheld his phone, and it generally takes me two or three tries and at least fifteen minutes to get him to shower. I think he’s glad to be home.”
“I think we’re both glad to be off that mountain.”
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked.
“Sure.” He walked over to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. He was limping. Just the slightest bit, but she’d become so attuned to him and his movements these last few days that she noticed it immediately. “You’re hurt,” she said softly.
He shook his head. “Bruised. Slid into a tree on my way there. The conditions were...challenging.”
They’d have been horrible. But he’d managed to keep going, to find Josh and to ski his way off the mountain this morning. Her eyes filled with tears, and she turned away hastily, not wanting him to see. She was a wreck. But he’d already dealt with plenty. He didn’t need to deal with her, too.
She poured the coffee, wiped up the imaginary spills she’d left behind and straightened the towel hanging on the stove door twice before turning around. He was watching her. She set down his coffee cup in front of him.
“Thank you,” he said. “He’s hungry and probably a little dehydrated and very tired, but I think he’s going to be fine.” He stopped, maybe because he could see that she wasn’t convinced. “But if it would make you feel better, have him checked out by his doctor,” he added with a soft smile.
“I mig
ht do that,” she admitted. “Don’t want to coddle him but it was so cold and he is just thirteen.”
Blaine nodded. “And like any other typical thirteen-year-old boy, he feels bad that he might have overreacted to some stuff at school and that he underestimated the difficulty of navigating a mountain storm.”
She turned back toward the counter and started pulling together the ingredients for pancakes. “Did you talk about what sent him there?”
“We did. The last few days haven’t been easy on him.”
She waited for the accusation, the This is how you ruined him barb. Girded her heart, wanting to protect it from the assault.
“I blame myself for not paying closer attention to it,” he said. “For not getting ahead of it.”
What? He wasn’t blaming her? Maybe he’d hit his head on the tree, too? She glanced over her shoulder at him. He was staring down at his coffee cup.
“Your mother came here last night.”
His head jerked up. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I didn’t ask her—”
“I know that,” she interrupted. “She just left, maybe twenty minutes ago, once she knew that both you and Josh were okay.”
“I’ll call her. It went okay, the two of you together?” he asked cautiously.
She added eggs to the dry ingredients, then milk. “She was very kind.”
There was silence behind her. “What are you guys going to do today?” Blaine asked finally, as she finished stirring.
“What I want to do is hug him all day and ask him to swear a blood oath that he’ll never do anything like this again.”
“Blood oath? You are tough.”
He didn’t say it meanly. “I can be. And I need to walk a fine line here, today. I’ll see if I can get him into his doctor’s office this morning. Even assuming that goes well, I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to go to school. He’s tired and wouldn’t be at his best. But it can’t be a fun, stay-at-home day. That would be rewarding his behavior. What he did was wrong, and he needs to know that.”
