Frozen: A Winter Romance Anthology

by Melange Books, LLC

  While Drew set up the correct shot, Kate had time to study the castle. It was quite the work of art. She marveled at the intricate carvings of its windows and scalloped turrets.

  “First, one or two posed shots, Kate. Then I’ll start the video.” Drew joined her in front of the ice sculpture. He got on bended knee. “I’ll put it on your finger in this one. The second picture we’ll pose together.”

  “Whatever you say.” Kate held out her hand.

  After Drew took more than his two promised photos, he changed out his camera for the new one. “Action!” he playfully shouted out, and they did it all over again.

  “I think we need another cup of coffee.” Kate rubbed her arms to warm herself as she stepped into the house. When she reached the kitchen, she noticed her phone had a new text. “Please be good news.”

  Her hand trembled as she touched the screen. Fifteen minutes away. “Drew, they’re almost home,’ she shouted out, hoping he was inside. “Thank goodness.”

  “See, I told you everything would work out.” Drew’s voice came from the family room.

  “Stay there. I’m coming.” Kate grabbed the mugs. “They’ll be surprised to see a giant ice sculpture on the deck when they get here.” She giggled. “Now I hope it stays cold forever. I don’t want my castle to melt.”

  “It’s a nice thought, but we know it eventually will. But,” Drew held up the camera, “it’s all in here. Frozen in time. I hope that’s good enough.”

  “Good enough? It’s wonderful. You reminded me of our love through all those pictures you took. Each happy moment was captured.”

  “Frozen moments?”

  “Yes, Drew, you couldn’t have said it any better.”

  “Did you hear something?” He turned his head. “I think I heard a car.”

  “If it’s Mom and Dad, they’re a little early.”

  “I’ll go check.”

  “Right behind you.” Kate set her mug on the table and took one more look outside at the deck. She couldn’t believe Drew had a castle sculpted from ice just for her. A large sigh escaped her, as a feeling of contentment spread over her. “Yes, Drew Kelly, saying I’d marry you was the best thing I’ve ever done.”

  A bell-like noise and a small thud made Kate spin around and face the Christmas tree. No one was in the room, just her and the tree. Something on the floor caught her eye, and she stepped closer. “That’s all it was. An ornament fell.” She picked it up, and tears immediately filled her eyes. “Oh.”

  Staring up at her was the silly cowboy angel Anna had given her. It wore a large cowboy hat and held a cowbell in one hand. They laughed when they saw the decoration in a Christmas shop, and Anna snuck away to buy it. She told Kate she wanted her to always have a piece of Arizona with her.

  “I think I just got my answer. Thank you, Anna.” She placed a kiss on the ornament and hung it back on the tree. She heard voices coming from the kitchen, and her heart raced with excitement. “Mom, Dad? Guess what? I’m engaged!”

  THE END

  About the Author

  After a great career in teaching, Nancy found a second calling as a writer. Ohio is her home but she loves to travel the U.S. Her debut young adult novel, Waiting for Dusk, was a surprise to her as much as it was to her family. Watching a PBS series on National Parks, her mind wandered to another place and that is where the characters of Katie and Andrew were born. Call of the Canyon and Stealing Time continue their story. The Swedish influences found in the books came from her mother whose parents emigrated from Sweden.

  Born and raised in Northeast Ohio, Nancy currently resides in Mentor, Ohio with her husband and their college-age son.

  Visit Nancy Online:

  www.facebook.com/nancypennickauthor

  Other works by Nancy Pennick

  Waiting for Dusk, Book 1, Waiting for Dusk Series

  Call of the Canyon, Book 2 Waiting for Dusk Series

  Stealing Time, Book 3 Waiting for Dusk Series

  Frozen in Time

  by Christina Kirby

  For anyone who believes Christmas is the perfect time to fall in love.

  Chapter One

  The wind whipped through the mountains and pulled at Lizbeth’s hair. With an absentminded shove, she stuffed her unruly curls behind her ear and readjusted the lens on her camera. With a tap of her finger, the camera clicked, the sound drowned out by the waterfall before her. Twisting the lens again and turning the camera fifteen degrees to the right, she tried again.

  A gust of wind howled through the valley where her equipment stood, and Lizbeth glanced toward the sky. Dark clouds, heavy with snow, slid across the sun. She hurriedly unsnapped the camera from its tripod and stepped between the rocks to get a better angle. More clicks and then a few more steps. She had to make sure she captured the rushing water and the life surrounding it to fulfill her latest assignment. The trees bent and swayed on the hills surrounding her as she maneuvered closer to the base of the falls. Birds took flight over the water, and Lizbeth snapped a shot as their wings spread wide to catch a ride on the wind.

  A small shiver ran over her skin as the piercing cold continued to sweep down from Canada. The little navy flannel shirt she threw on earlier in the day wasn’t enough anymore. She cursed the weather forecasters under her breath. They had been off by more than three hours. She should’ve had time before the blizzard moved in to get the pictures she needed. Just a few more shots. Her mind ran over her mental time clock. First, she had to pack her gear, and then she had a mile hike back to her car. She threw one more look to the clouds and found them pressed together tighter than even a few minutes before.

  She took another step forward and slipped across the top of a moss-covered rock. “Shit.” She clenched her teeth as a searing pain shot up from her ankle. “Graceful as ever.” She looked down at her hiking boot and the awkward angle it was in. With a small tug, she pulled her foot back out of the crevasse between two rocks, wincing in pain with each inch. She attempted to put weight on it and ground her teeth together. It hurt like hell, but it wasn’t broken. She’d have to power through the pain to get back to her car. One half-step at a time, Lizbeth made her way back to her bag as the first snowflakes fell.

  Pack loaded, she looked over her shoulder at the waterfall in all its power and natural beauty. With her bag on one shoulder and her camera strap hanging over the other, she lifted her camera to her eye one last time to catch a shot of the snow beginning to fall steadily. In the span of a few minutes, the scene before her changed from fall oranges and reds to a dusted white wonderland.

  Hobbling and using trees for support, she pushed her way through the woods. The snow fell harder, making her previous path hard to see. A thin layer of sweat coated her forehead as the pain in her ankle escalated with each step. She stopped and leaned against a tree to catch her breath, now coming out in short puffs of white air. She laughed aloud. Her assignments had taken her all over the world. Safaris in sweltering African heat, hostile territories in the Middle East and a trek down the Amazon River, and none of those trips had defeated her. She’d be damned if she was going to freeze to death in the middle of the woods in some remote part of the good old US of A.

  “A little further. Come on. You can do this.” She repeated her mantra aloud as she forged on through the brush. The break in the trees wasn’t far. Her car would be there waiting with its glorious heater. She just needed to make it a little further.

  An orange strip of plastic flapped in the wind a few feet ahead, still hanging onto the branch where she tied it a few hours ago. She breathed a sigh of relief and stumbled onward. A few minutes later, she arrived at the break in the trees and almost wept as she unlocked and then fell into her car. She reached down to massage her throbbing ankle and grimaced when she touched her swollen skin. Closing the door behind her, she cranked her car and flipped on the windshield wipers to remove the snow. It was a long way back to the highway, but she couldn’t stay overnight to wait for the storm to let up. She reme
mbered what the newscasters said about the plunging temps heading this way.

  Slowly, she pulled the car onto the road and eased around the first turn. She kept the car close to the right side, better to stay near the rock wall than slide off the opposite side and down the mountain. She squinted to try to see through the falling snow. She had to keep moving. There was nothing up in this part of the country, nowhere to stop for the night. The car slid on the second curve sending her across the opposite lane. Scared of teetering close to the edge, Lizbeth hit the brakes and overcorrected. Metal screamed as it lost the fight to the steep wall of rock. The airbag deployed, burning the skin on the inside of her wrists and a small place on her cheek. Stunned, she sat in the cold dark car and tried not to panic.

  Shaking her head, she reached into her bag on the seat beside her and pulled out her cell phone. There was no signal. She couldn’t move the car. The wind whistled outside the car, reminding her that the temperature was dropping. She fumbled through the rest of the contents of her purse and turned up some water and a granola bar. She wouldn’t last long in the car, but she couldn’t walk on her ankle anymore either. For now, all she could do was wait and hope someone passed by.

  * * * *

  He watched the deer dip his head toward the creek. The deer’s tongue lapped up the cold water, and his ears twitched as the snow continued to fall. The rifle remained slung over Jonas’s shoulder untouched, as a doe stepped out of the woods to his right. He stayed tucked between two trees and watched the deer for a while longer. He left the cabin with the excuse of going hunting, not that there was anyone at the cabin he needed an excuse for, but he hated to admit, even to himself, what he really craved was the fresh air. To stay in one spot too long was to let one’s mind wander back to the horrors he was in the mountains to escape. The last thing he wanted was to take the life of anyone or anything else. There had been enough bloodshed in his life over the past decade.

  The deer wound through the trees, each one pausing every few moments to listen for sounds of danger in the woods around them. The buck stopped first, still as stone, until his nose and tail twitched slightly, and he bent to find more food. As if on cue, the doe’s head would snap to attention, and she would remain still, staring into the trees with a keen eye until it was her turn to stop and eat. They reminded him of the well-oiled machine that had been his unit. His men listening, waiting and maneuvering as though sharing one mind, one body. He hoped they were all home now. Returned to their families and out of the sandy desert they had all called home for the last year. Everyone that could be home anyway. They hadn’t all made it back. His chest tightened, and he knew it was time to move.

  Before he took a step to leave, birds shot into the sky, the deer bolted, and a crashing sound echoed through the forest. He listened for more noises but heard none. As quickly as it happened, it seemed to be over. Some idiot most likely drove too fast and glanced off the guardrail. It happened more than a few times every year. The evidence could be found in the sporadic indentations on the railing all the way down the mountainside. He shook his head and pushed himself off the tree to set out toward the cabin. He needed to get out of the snow.

  He tromped up the porch stairs, opened the door and leaned his rifle against the wall. Despite the cold, his body was warm under his thick parka. He stripped it off and dropped it on a hook before jogging back off the porch to the shack where the season’s firewood supply waited. Logs stacked in his arms, he let the door spring back into place as he headed back toward the house. The snow was coming down hard now. He couldn’t see where the driveway met the road anymore. When he put his foot on the bottom step, he turned and glanced behind him and saw two glowing eyes peering out from the trees. His muscles tensed, and he took the next step with deliberately slow movements, his eyes never leaving the set staring back at him. When he reached the door, he dropped the wood and grabbed his gun, aiming it into the trees where the wolf had been. It was gone.

  He kicked the door shut, cutting off the wind as easily as flipping a switch. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen a wolf around the house, and he knew they were pack animals. He stacked the wood in the fireplace and struck a match. Small flames began to climb the dry wood. He’d have to go hunting to take care of the wolf problem. He crossed to the window and rested one hand against the frame as he looked out at the falling snow. When it let up, he’d go out again. Having a specific mission would keep his mind busy. He caught sight of his reflection in the glass. The unshaven stranger staring back him forced him to turn away from the window.

  * * * *

  A burst of sunlight filled the car. Dazed and disoriented, Lizbeth half lifted her arm to block the sun from her eyes. A bearded man loomed over her.

  “Ma’am, can you hear me? Are you alright?” His voice was deep and strong, but all she could manage was a croak in response.

  In one motion, he put an arm under her legs and arms and pulled her out of the car. Joints stiff, she groaned and leaned into the warmth of his chest. Her eyes forced closed by the brightness of the reflection of the sun. She had been sheltered from the glare by the blanket of snow resting over her windows. She swayed gently with the rhythm of his footsteps crunching in the snow.

  “Who?” she tried, but her dry throat wouldn’t cooperate.

  “My name is Jonas. You’re safe now.”

  She didn’t know if it was true, but she was thankful to be out of her car. It had been three, maybe four days. She wasn’t sure anymore. Her muscles and head ached from continuous shivering. Another tremble surged through her as they continued on to wherever he was taking her.

  “Hang in there. We’ll get you warm.” Those were the last words she heard before she nodded off.

  Chapter Two

  A loud pop, followed by a hiss, sounded and woke Lizbeth from a deep sleep. She opened her eyes and stared around the unfamiliar room. A fire blazed in the stone fireplace beside her. She was in a log house with a large den and cathedral windows, which framed a picturesque view of the snow covered landscape outside. Lizbeth pushed herself up into a sitting position, the soft blanket falling to her waist. She gasped when the air hit her bare skin, and she realized she wore only her bra and underwear, the rest of her clothes gone. The house was quiet, the logs popping and hissing in the fireplace the only sound.

  Swinging her legs to the floor, she stood, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she put weight on her ankle and attempted walking. The pain was better, only a fraction of what it had been after her trek through the trees.

  Shelves stood on either side of the mantel. Lizbeth moved to them and studied the pictures in the frames, hoping for a clue as to where she was. Most were comprised of a family: a man, woman and two small children. She remembered the bearded man who pulled her out of her car, lifting her with ease and carrying her through the snow. The man in the pictures didn’t have a beard, but she didn’t know how old the pictures were. He could’ve shaved. She replaced the picture and circled the room until she found the kitchen. Coffee sat warming in a pot on the counter, and mugs hung on tiny hooks beside it. Her stomach was empty, but she needed the jolt. Her muscles were sluggish, and her brain foggy.

  The bitter taste was welcomed and helped clear her head. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the microwave and scowled. One thing was for sure, she was in desperate need of a shower. Now, if she could just find her clothes. She didn’t exactly love the idea of standing around half-naked when the family returned. Heavy steps echoed throughout the house as someone stomped around on the front porch. So much for finding her clothes. She poked her head out of the kitchen as the door to the main room swung open. A man in a large red coat and snow boots tromped in carrying an armful of firewood and proceeded across the room to the fireplace to drop it off.

  When he turned, she noticed it was the same man who’d found her, but he wasn’t the one in the pictures. He didn’t have the same soft expression worn by the man in the photos or the same easy smile. The man
before her was cautious and astute. His eyes locked on hers as they studied each other across the room. For a brief moment, she wondered if he was some sort of serial killer, but then decided against it. Surely, he would have her in a bunker somewhere if he were, not in a house with family pictures lining the shelves.

  “It’s good to see you’re finally awake.” He began pulling off his jacket. “You’ve been out for almost twenty-four hours.” His shoulders were broad and his waist lean. His hair was a little shaggy, but it fit with his beard. He was ruggedly handsome, and even from across the room she could tell his eyes were blue. The blue of the Caribbean sea, crystal clear and deep.

  Lizbeth cleared her throat and tore her eyes away from his. “Thank you for, you know, getting me out of my car.” She looked around nervously as he continued to watch her. “My name is Lizbeth.”

  “Nice to meet you.” His voice was deep and warm, the kind you wanted to fall asleep listening to.

  “You, too.” She paused and pulled the blanket tighter. “But if you don’t mind me asking, and I don’t want to sound ungrateful, where are my clothes, and who are you?”

  He laughed, and his features softened. “I’m Jonas Fairchild, and you’re welcome. As for your clothes, I had to remove them. You were freezing.”

  “And you took them off.” She sounded like some kind of stoned teenager struggling to keep up with what the teacher was saying. Obviously, he’d taken her clothes off, but she wasn’t used to a man removing her clothes while she was half-conscious.

  “I did, and I gave you a sponge bath.”

  “W-what?” Heat flooded her cheeks, and she pulled the blanket tighter.