Without thinking, Noah leaped off his sled and jumped into the river at the front of the machine. A gloved hand broke the plane of the surface and flailed briefly before ducking back under. Panic ripped through him faster than the wildest river current imaginable. Lacking any sort of reasonable judgment, he grabbed hold of the sled and rolled it away from the berm hoping he wouldn’t hurt Casey any more than she already might be. All he knew was that he needed to get her out of the frigid water before she froze to death or drowned.
Scooping her up, he placed her on the berm and tugged at the strap of her helmet. Water poured out of her helmet as he yanked it off her head.
“Casey, can you hear me?”
Nothing.
He leaned closer and shook her slightly. “Casey, honey.”
Her eyes popped open, she gasped, then coughed, gagged, then coughed some more. He took that as a good sign but knew she was still in danger. How long had she been beneath the surface of the ice-cold water? What was her body temperature? The darkness made it difficult to assess her situation, but when he placed his already cold hands on her cheeks and his body temperature lowered a few more degrees, he knew for sure she was in real trouble. Her eyes closed.
His saturated boots felt like bricks tied to his feet when he hauled himself out of the river and onto the berm. Lifting Casey off the ground, he carried her over to his snowmobile and climbed on, placing her tiny body between him and the handlebars, like one would ride with a small child. Her limp body leaned over his left arm as he spun his sled around and headed back toward camp. It crossed his mind to go to town but he feared, with an already plummeting body temperature, she wouldn’t make it that distance, and the storm kicking up around them again reinforced his choice.
By the time he returned to camp, the blinding blizzard had resumed full-force. Had the gods cut him a break in the brief moment he found Casey?
Noah parked his sled at the base of the porch steps. With Casey snug in his arms, he hurried into the cabin. Thankfully, the fire still roared in the fireplace. It had to be ninety degrees in the cabin. He set her on the rug in front of the fireplace, pulled a pillow from the couch and placed it under her head. In the dim light of the cabin, he could now make out her fine features. Her blue lips alerted him to the fact he needed to warm her up and quickly.
He stripped her of her stiff frozen snow gear to find her clothes drenched beneath it. This was no surprise. She’d been under the surface of the water for a while. She shivered and stirred.
“Casey, are you okay?”
No response.
Not dwelling on the fact his own fingers and toes were nearly froze, he worked to warm Casey, rubbing her hands and feet.
With his shaky hands, Noah reached to undo the button of her jeans, but his fingers paused as if they had a mind of their own. His brain screamed at him to rid her of her drenched clothing. Though stripping her of her wet clothes was clearly for her betterment, his hands tensed at the odd sensation rushing through him. He’d seen her naked plenty of times, but for some reason, right here and now, it felt uncomfortable, and he couldn’t help but wonder how she’d feel about it when she woke.
No matter her feelings...or his...Noah had to get her dry and warm.
After removing the last of her clothing he slipped her into a dry T-shirt, pulled the cushions from the couch, placing them in front of the fireplace, then placed her on the cushions before covering her with every blanket he could find. She barely stirred during the whole maneuver.
He stared down at her beautiful face wondering where he’d gone so wrong with her. The blue hue on her lips was fading, and her shivers slowed. Good signs, he assumed.
Though she no longer loved him, he still loved her more than he’d ever imagined possible. He sighed. He was such a failure.
Silently he prayed for the storm to quit so he could take her back to town and get her the medical attention she needed. He hadn’t noticed any bruising or broken bones when he’d changed her clothing, but he wasn’t a physician so how would he know if something was wrong internally.
The prickling in his hands and feet reminded him of his own situation. He’d stood long enough in the frigid waters himself, and water still seeped from his boots with each step he took. The drive back on the snowmobile with saturated gloves was excruciatingly painful.
Noah stripped down and threw on a dry set of clothes before draping all their wet clothes over kitchen chairs. Then he hung their drenched heavy snow gear on the sturdy metal wall hooks by the door. The thick packet of papers zipped securely in the inside pocket of Casey’s jacket didn’t go unnoticed, and he had to look, he couldn’t help himself. The damp papers were exactly what he expected to find. Why wouldn’t they be? After all, they were the reason she’d set out to find him. He stared at the wet, smudged divorce papers, which for some odd reason didn’t tear when he unfolded them. Was that a sign? He hoped not as he placed the sheets of paper on top a shelf that hung high on the kitchen wall so they could dry, and were well out of view. Out of sight, out of mind.
After checking her other pockets, in both her clothes, and snow gear, he found nothing but her hotel key. Lack of finding anything else didn’t surprise him. She didn’t need anything else for what she’s set out to do. He placed the key next to the papers.
Stepping toward the fireplace, the heat of the fire warmed his body, and the prickling in his extremities ceased.
Casey coughed, and her eyes popped open, but only briefly. He stepped toward her, pulled the blankets back and climbed onto the cushions, pulling her quivering body tightly to his. More times than he cared to admit, he dreamed of holding her again, though not under this type of circumstance.
Selfishly, he let himself feel good about lying beside her with her wrapped in his arms. She might not like it when she woke, but he didn’t care. Her soft body felt heavenly to him. He inhaled long and deep, taking in her sweet, tantalizing scent, which set every nerve ending in his body standing on end. Desire swept through him. Guilt quickly followed, spiraling in his core. What am I thinking? She almost died. She’s divorcing me.
Inching away from her crossed his mind, but he didn’t, justifying his selfish action by her need for warmth.
Chapter Five
Casey stared at the smoldering ashes in the fireplace, heat still radiated from them, warming her cheeks, soothing her. It took a brief moment for her to comprehend this wasn’t a dream. A brush of warm breath blew past her ear, tickling her sensitive skin. Someone’s arm draped over her waist. Another breath washed over her. Fear snapped through her like a whip. She pushed the stranger’s body away from her and sprang to her feet, grabbing the cast iron fire poker leaning against the stone hearth.
At her shove, the man rolled off the cushions. He sat up and scowled. “What did you do that for?”
Casey gripped the poker tighter and pointed it at him. Her extremities shook. “Who are you?”
Confusion flashed through the stranger’s eyes, and in one swift movement, he was on his feet.
“Don’t move!” Casey shook the poker at him as she edged away, her back now pressed to the wall of the small living room she didn’t recall ever seeing before. “You stay right where you are!”
He held up his hands, palms facing her submissively. “Casey, honey, what’s the matter?”
Did this person really just call her by her name? “Why are you calling me honey, and how do you know my name?”
His confused gaze stayed on her. He didn’t move. After a few beats he cleared his throat. “You don’t recognize me?” His tone was soft and soothing.
Though she tried to pull away, their magnetized gazes held. His look intensified and gripped her tighter as he appeared to be waiting for some sort of response. Words escaped her as she realized that not only did she not recognize him, she wasn’t sure that Casey was her name. Her body trembled, and her head spun. She couldn’t breathe. Her vision faded.
* * * *
Noah caught her tiny body bef
ore it hit the floor. The sheer look of terror in her eyes when she realized she had no recollection of him or herself nearly cracked his heart in half.
He glanced at his cell phone. No reception, just like the numerous other times he checked for service since they returned to the camp.
A glimpse out the window at the horrendous storm reinforced the fact they were on their own. There was no way he could get her back to town for medical attention until the storm blew over. Just to make sure, he actually stepped outside. The blowing snow made it impossible to see the signature White Pine not ten feet from the porch. They weren’t going anywhere.
Back inside he found Casey still sleeping on the couch where he’d put her less than fifteen minutes ago. Her long, wavy, dark brown hair spilled over her pillow, the silky strands tempting him to touch and let the soft fibers sift through his fingers. He’d been allowed that pleasure in the past and longed to do it again. Only now he knew that was an unattainable dream.
Noah sat in the old wooden rocking chair across the small room. The thought of dragging it closer to her side crossed his mind, but he didn’t in fear that close proximity to her when she woke would freak her out again.
Without conscious thought his hands clamped together, and he bowed his head in prayer, asking God to restore her memory even though it meant she’d likely wake up in the same frame of mind she was in before the snowmobile accident occurred. She wouldn’t love him. In fact, she’d probably despise him for the same old reason—he didn’t make good on his end of the bargain and live in the city with her. Instead, he moved back home to the solitude of country living. He was in a no-win situation, unable to live in the city and unable to live without her.
* * * *
Casey cracked an eye open and looked at the man sitting in the rocking chair across the room while her inner fear froze her in place. She worked to maintain her rhythmic breathing in hopes to not alert him to the fact she was awake. Who is he?
With his head bowed, she couldn’t get a good look at his facial features. His palms were pressed together so tightly his knuckles were white. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear he was praying.
Casey closed her eye as he unfolded his hands and lifted his head. She knew his gaze was on her. The rocking chair creaked. Fear shot through her veins. Was he going to come toward her? Nope. The sound of his steps faded in the opposite direction. Unable to fight the urge to see where he was headed, she cracked her eyelids ever so slightly to find him lighting up the gas stove. She watched as he poured water from a jug into a coffee pot and then scooped grounds into the metal filter. The coffee pot was old, the percolator kind.
Part of her wished he’d turn around so she could get a better look at him. All she could see at present was his backside. He wore a maroon plaid flannel shirt and worn jeans. He was tall with a thin waistline but thick shoulders. His dark brown wavy hair brushed against the collar of his shirt.
As the coffee percolated, he reached into the fridge and pulled out an orange juice carton, eggs and other items she couldn’t quite identify before he set them on the counter and blocked her view of them. He moved slowly through the kitchen area like one would if intentionally trying to be quiet.
She must have drifted to sleep for a brief moment because the next time she opened her eyes she found the stranger sitting at the kitchen table, facing her direction, forking a mouthful of scrambled eggs. His dark eyes stared into space as he scooped another mouthful of eggs. The worry and anxiety in his eyes were unmistakable. After raking his hand through his thick hair, he ran his hand over his five o’clock shadow.
His gaze shifted and caught hers. Her hands fisted the blanket as her heart raced. Busted. Neither said a word. After a few seconds, his tense gaze softened, but the worry in his eyes didn’t fully disappear.
“Are you hungry?”
Unsure what to do or say, Casey lay still with her gaze fixed on him. He just sat there, studying her.
“I’m not going to hurt you. You had a snowmobile accident last night on my property, which is why you are here. Do you remember the accident?”
Casey swallowed hard. “An accident?”
He nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. She couldn’t seem to pull her eyes from his. There was something familiar about them and the sound of his voice, but she couldn’t seem to place him. What is wrong with me? The longer he stared at her, the more the fear coiled in the pit of her stomach unraveled.
“I don’t think you are physically hurt,” he stated, as if he read her mind. “You flipped over on the sled and landed in the river. You were pinned under the machine, under the water, when I found you. I think I happened upon you pretty quickly. You were really cold, but other than that you seemed okay.”
By the look in his eyes, she knew he was telling the truth, but why couldn’t she remember anything? And why was she here at the small cabin with him?
Lifting his hand, he pointed to the window. “Because of the storm I couldn’t take you back to town.”
Casey tore her gaze from his and risked a glance out the window to find a whiteout.
The mouthwatering aroma of sausage drew her attention back to the kitchen. Her stomach growled loud enough for him to hear.
“Please, join me. I’ll fix you a plate,” he said as he rose from his chair and spun to face the stove. She watched as he scooped some eggs and sausage onto a plate, then set the plate on the small wood table across from his spot. “Do you want some coffee?”
Coffee would be good. Perhaps it would calm her throbbing temples. Casey nodded as she sat up. Once standing, she realized she was only wearing a t-shirt, which reached to her mid-thigh. She pulled a fleece throw from the couch and wrapped it around her before she took the few steps needed to reach the table.
The strange man kept his gaze on her but not in a scary or uncomfortable way, more in a concerned and nurturing way. Casey sat and reached for the coffee, took a sip and then another. Some relief flowed to her temples. She forked some cheesy eggs, and the man resumed eating as well.
“Mmm...good,” was all Casey could muster. The sage flavored sausage pleased both her taste buds and empty stomach.
The man of few words across the table from her smiled warmly.
Though eating was a good distraction, Casey realized it was only a temporary one. She knew that at some point she’d have to ask the stranger how he knew her and who she was. How ridiculous. Why can’t I remember anything? Her extremities shook. Her heart raced. Her fork tapped hard against her plate. The man reached over and placed his large, warm, hand over her trembling fingers. For some odd reason, she didn’t pull away. She knew she should. A stranger was touching her, but his touch brought comfort, not fear.
“You’ll be okay, Casey. It will all be fine. When the storm blows over, I’ll take you back to town and...” The man paused. The look of sympathy in his eyes was heart-wrenching. He knew she didn’t have a clue.
“You’ll take me to the doctor,” she finished for him.
“Yes.” His response wasn’t much more than a whisper of air.
* * * *
Noah cleared the table while Casey sipped her coffee. Her blank stare into space reassured him of the fact she didn’t have a clue who he was or even herself. He hoped her situation was only temporary, even in light of the risk that when her memory did come back he’d be in the same situation as before. She’d still despise him and want a divorce.
“They should be dry.”
Casey flinched. “What?”
Noah nodded toward the clothes draped over the kitchen chair. “Your clothes. They should be dry.”
“Oh.”
“You can change in there,” Noah said pointing at a doorway off the kitchen.
Casey stood, grabbed the clothes and disappeared into the bunkroom. She returned wearing the jeans and sweater, she assumed she nearly drowned in the night before.
Noah wondered what to do next. There was no television in camp, but it wouldn’t have mattered. It’s
not like they’d get reception during this storm. He could try the radio. Anything to avert her asking who she was and how he knew her. If asked, he didn’t want to lie, yet, he didn’t want to tell the truth either. He wanted to avoid the issue altogether, so she’d like him, even if only for a short while. Selfish.
Chapter Six
Unable to help herself, Casey paced the floor and looked out the window for at least the hundredth time. The snow wasn’t letting up; in fact, the storm looked to be worse than it was when she woke up.
Every now and then she’d catch a glimpse of her handsome companion who sat in the rocking chair reading a hunting magazine. On occasion, he’d glance up at her and offer a soft smile. She liked his pleasant smile. He didn’t seem to be much of a talker, but then again, just maybe he had nothing to say to someone he’d recently met due to an unfortunate circumstance.
Though the tiny cabin was warm enough, she stepped toward the fireplace and stretched out her arms, holding her hands inches from the flames. She loved the warmth and couldn’t help but wonder why she was out riding a snowmobile in the frigid temperatures. The whole thing just didn’t seem to fit for her.
Hanging on the wall next to the fireplace was a large bulletin board covered with hunting photos...guys dressed in orange, holding rifles and shotguns and bucks hanging from a buck-pole. Not all the photos were of deer hunting. Some were of grouse hunting. Casey studied the photos. Some were old, even in black and white. She found her cabin companion in several of the photos. In some, he was just a boy, in others, a teenager, and in some, the man he was today. Several of the photos were from an old Polaroid camera, and one of them had names written on the bottom in the white section. The names read Brian, Noah, Dad and Grandpa Jack. Even though the photo had been taken many years ago, Casey recognized Noah as her cabin-mate. His smile hadn’t changed any. It was soft and friendly in the photo, and soft and friendly just moments ago when she stole another glance at him.
Frozen: A Winter Romance Anthology Page 6
