Angel in Disguise

by Patt Marr

  “Pete?” she said, intending to improve his mood and, hopefully, draw his mind from his pain.

  “What?” he responded tersely.

  “These days, guys don’t say what we’ll do.”

  He groaned. “Just what I need. Another lecture.” But she could tell he had grasped her intent and was playing along.

  “We won’t set up camp,” she said in her teacher voice. “I will. The rest of what you said was okay though.”

  “What? The part about resting?”

  “Yes, that was good.”

  He threw up his hands. “I surrender. I’m too beat to argue.”

  “Good.” Taking his sleeping bag from his backpack, she propped it under his head. “Do you have medication for the pain?”

  “Not with me.”

  What man ever planned ahead? She found her first-aid kit and retrieved nonaspirin tablets. Handing him his canteen and the medicine, she said, “Don’t argue.”

  He grinned. “I won’t. Thanks.”

  “Try to catch a nap.”

  Obediently Pete closed his eyes.

  Sunny got the tent up, set out their cooking gear and gathered fallen branches, praying as she worked. As the temperature dropped, she pulled a sweatshirt over her T-shirt, added a down jacket and covered Pete with her opened sleeping bag. He seemed to be sleeping very deeply. She hoped that was good and worried that it wasn’t.

  Checking Pete’s pack for the warmer clothing he would need when he woke, she knew they were in for trouble. The man traveled light. He had a wind-breaker. That was it. No rain gear, no long underwear, not even a heavy shirt. She was no expert at wilderness survival, but Pete would be miserably cold at best, dangerously so at worst. If his sleeping bag wasn’t heavily insulated, he would freeze.

  She had a fire going and a simple supper ready when Pete woke. It was almost dark, and the temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees. She’d been watching him as he slept, noticing that his face reflected pain every time he’d moved.

  From the way he rubbed at his neck, he must have developed a crick in it. She should have made a pillow out of something smaller than his sleeping bag.

  “Feeling better?” she asked.

  “Just peachy,” he replied dryly, trying to smile.

  She knelt beside him and massaged his neck.

  “That feels good,” he murmured.

  “It’s gotten a lot colder, and it’ll be dark soon.”

  “Storm’s coming, too,” he muttered. “You think so?”

  “My bum hip thinks so. It predicts bad weather as reliably as the satellites. How long was I asleep?”

  Sunny checked her watch. “About three hours. As soon as you eat, we ought to get bedded down for the night.”

  He levered himself into a sitting position, rolled over, moved to all fours, looked around until he located his walking stick and started to crawl toward it.

  “Take my arm,” she said, bracing herself to take his weight.

  “That’s okay. I can get up on my own.”

  “C’mon, Pete, let’s work together on this. The wind’s up, and it’s getting colder by the minute.”

  “You’re just full of good news.”

  “And you’re stalling. Take my arm.”

  She knew how humbling it must be for Pete to need her help, but she wished he’d just take it. Everybody needed help sometimes.

  But stubbornly Pete lunged to his feet on his own, swaying clumsily. She slipped her arms around him, holding him chest to chest, hoping his pride wouldn’t push her away.

  “Nice catch,” he joked, putting his arms around her, resting his chin against her brow. “Thanks for being there.”

  She felt at home in his arms and could have stayed a long time if she weren’t so worried. Pete shivered, and she knew it was more than chemistry. Without anything warm to put on, he needed to get into a sleeping bag.

  “Let’s get you into the tent,” she said, offering her shoulder as a crutch.

  “Not yet.”

  “Pete, your shirt must have been wet with sweat when you went to sleep. You feel cold and clammy. We’re talking survival here.”

  “In a minute,” he persisted, “after I answer nature’s call.”

  She chose a likely spot closer than the one she’d used, put her arm around him and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

  “‘Let’s?’ I don’t think so.”

  “You need the help, Pete.”

  “Then hand me my walking stick.”

  “My shoulder’s better.”

  “This is not a debate, Sunny.”

  The harsh tone in his voice said he’d die where he stood rather than accept her help. She handed him the stick.

  “Thanks,” he said, probably from habit, not real gratitude.

  She turned to the fire, stirring it up to have something to do, willing him to go and hurry back.

  But Pete just stood there, watching her. “I’m sorry you had to do all this work by yourself.”

  She shrugged. It had been the least she could do. She wished he’d just take care of his personal business.

  He shifted his weight awkwardly and raked his hand through his hair. “And I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

  She faced him, humbled by his determined consideration of her feelings, yet impatient, as well. “You didn’t yell, Pete. You were frustrated. I’m ordering you around, taking charge, trying to make up for the fact it’s my fault you’re up here in pain. And you’re standing there, being so nice I can’t stand it!”

  He pulled her up to him with one strong arm. “Hey,” he said gruffly, “nothing’s your fault. The last I knew, we were having a good time.” He had a death grip on the walking stick, yet he was the strong one.

  “I can’t forget you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”

  “Maybe not, and I’m only admitting that this once, but, Sunny, I’m glad I’m here.”

  God love him, as miserable as he had to be, Pete was comforting her. And if he didn’t stop it right now, she was going to bawl like a baby. “Thank you,” she said, hiding her face in his neck.

  “You’re welcome.” He hugged her close, stroking her arm, nuzzling his chin against her hair.

  How lucky a woman would be to have the love of this exceptional man. He’d be a rock in all the tough times. Was God so good that He meant Pete for her?

  A blast of chilled air hit them, and Pete shivered from the cold. She pushed out of his arms. “Hurry back,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “I’ll have your dinner ready.”

  He gave her a long look, but limped away without saying more. She wished they were back in the valley with no reason to rush through these new feelings.

  The temperature was dropping fast. It felt colder now than it had an hour ago. She carried their sleeping bags to the tent and unrolled his. It was appallingly thin. Surely there was an insert for extra insulation. She got her flashlight and was going through his pack when Pete limped back into the firelight.

  “Caught you p-peeking,” he teased through chattering teeth.

  For once, his half smile held no charm. “Pete Maguire, why did you say your favorite outdoor activity was camping?”

  “Same reason I s-said I liked ch-ch-cheesecake.”

  “You’ve never camped in your life, have you?”

  “What g-gave me away?”

  “You’re going to freeze. That’s what! This sleeping bag belongs at a slumber party.” Wasting no time, Sunny unzipped the bag and smoothed it inside the tent floor. Spreading her heavier bag over Pete’s, she was relieved to find the zippers compatible. “Crawl in here,” she commanded.

  Pete struggled to the ground, grimacing in pain. “Watch it with the orders, w-woman.”

  Not only were his teeth chattering, Pete’s speech seemed slurred, and his hands shook as he tried to untie his boots. Her heart sank. Though she’d never seen someone with hypothermia, she’d bet her paycheck she was seeing it now.

  Helping Pete with h
is boots, she tried to remember the treatment. The main thing was to get him warm inside and out. Her ski cap would keep heat from escaping through his head. She had hot food and drink ready. What more could she do?

  He groaned as she helped him ease between the sleeping bags. She’d always heard that men in pain were big babies, but Pete didn’t complain once. When she put her cap on him, he even stuttered a thank-you. Since his whole body tremored, she steadied the coffee mug in his shaking hand with her own.

  Working that lopsided smile, he said, “Petey’s a big boy, Mom. Can drink by ownself.”

  “Sorry. Just trying to help.”

  “I’m c-c-cold, and my hip hurts like… It hurts. But I’m okay, Sunny. Really.”

  Sunny knew better than trust his assurances. His half smile was a poor imitation of the real thing. If he was hypothermic, he wouldn’t even realize it. It was up to her to decide what he needed. If he didn’t stop shaking soon, she’d strip him down and warm him with her own body.

  While he drank his coffee, she checked the tent stakes and secured their supplies. Huge flakes of snow were drifting to the ground when she brought Pete his food.

  “How do you feel?” she asked, watching him eat.

  “N-numb. It’s really gotten cold, hasn’t it?”

  “I think you ought to get out of that shirt.”

  He looked as startled as a deer caught in headlights. “I’m not that k-k-kind of guy, Ms. Keegan.”

  “Pete! We’re talking survival here! The sweatshirt I’m wearing is warm from my body heat. You’ll feel warmer in it even if the fit is a little snug.”

  “You n-n-need your own shirt.”

  “Not really. Not with my jacket.”

  “Maybe you’re r-right,” he said, trying to un-button his shirt with chilled fingers. “I’ve never b-been so cold.”

  She helped with his buttons, shrugged out of her own jacket, pulled her sweatshirt off, handed it to Pete and got back into her parka. Every action had the feel of urgency. The way the snow was coming down, they were in for a real blizzard. She’d never be able to go for help now.

  By the time he’d eaten, it was pitch-black. Using her flashlight to see in the darkness, Sunny put both pairs of their boots in the rain fly. “Are you okay?” she said to the lump in the sleeping bag. Pete had scooched down so far in the bag, not even his head protruded.

  “Just p-peachy,” he said, his voice muffled in the bag.

  She’d heard that before. Kneeling inside the tent, she fastened the flap and pulled off her jacket. Immediately she missed its warmth, but she could warm him better with only her T-shirt between them. In minutes the insulation of the sleeping bags would trap her heat and do its job.

  She crawled in the bag, pulled the top over them securely and tried to cuddle up to his back, but he was curled into a ball.

  “Time to play Spoons, Pete. Stretch out. Let me warm you.”

  He mumbled something, but stayed as he was.

  “You want the inside or outside?”

  “N-n-neither,” he chattered. “I—I’m too c-c-cold.”

  If he wouldn’t cooperate, she’d take drastic action. Throwing one leg over Pete’s body, Sunny climbed on top of him.

  “Ow! Watch the hip!” Pete howled, twisting onto his back to redistribute her weight.

  “I’m sorry.” And she was, deeply. The guilt was piling up. “Pete, you’ve got to cooperate. Wrap your arms around me.”

  She guided his arms into place, and covered as much of his body as she could. Even through their clothes, the chill took her breath away as she cuddled her six-foot icicle.

  “Brr! Wow! You are really cold!” she complained.

  “D-d-do you usually go t-t-to bed with a g-g-guy on a first d-date, Sunny K-Keegan?”

  “Second date. And only with the ones who have hypothermia.” She rubbed his arms briskly. In a different situation, she’d have taken time to appreciate how well developed they were.

  “S-S-Sunny, this isn’t necessary. I’m not hypothermic. You d-d-don’t have to do this.”

  Maybe not, but she’d never forgive herself if something awful happened to Pete. This was a crisis situation, and she would do what had to be done. From now on, however, before she went hiking, she’d demand written certification that her partners had brains.

  “S-S-Sunny, no kidding. I’m okay,” Pete protested again.

  “Just shut up, Pete, and appreciate this, because it’s never going to happen again.”

  Pete was sure he was not hypothermic, but her body was warm and felt better than an electric blanket. He was cold. Really cold. But if he were dangerously chilled, would he appreciate the feel of her soft woman’s body?

  He had been intensely stupid to plan so poorly for this trip. Plan? He hadn’t planned. He’d shown up. His irresponsibility had gotten them into this mess. They weren’t in any danger, thanks to Sunny, but they could have been.

  If anything bad did happen, he deserved it. Sunny, however, did not. She had trusted him, and all he had done was test her strength and scare her to death. For all her bravado, he knew she was frightened. There had to be a way to ease her fear.

  “You d-didn’t happen to bring one of those little handheld TV sets, d-did you?” That ought to catch her off guard. “I think the Angels are pl-playing tonight.”

  “We’re here to commune with nature, not watch baseball.”

  Pete grinned in the dark. He loved her sassiness.

  “But I like to w-watch TV before I go t-to sleep,” he complained, still fooling around, although his chilled stuttering was unfortunately real.

  “Get it through your head, Maguire. There’s no TV.”

  “Then, y-you’ll have t-to tell me a b-bedtime story.”

  “The Three Bears?”

  “T-too scary when you’re in the w-woods.”

  “Little Red Riding Hood?”

  “That’s another w-woods story.”

  “You’re pretty picky. Maybe you’d better choose.”

  “Tell me the s-story of Little Sunny K-Keegan.”

  “That’s a boring story.”

  “I’ll be the j-judge of that.”

  She groaned as if she hated talking about herself.

  “C’mon, I’m w-w-waiting.”

  “All right! Okay, once upon a time…”

  “I l-like it already.”

  “You’re easy to please.”

  He chuckled, tickled that he’d gotten her mind off her worry. “Once upon a t-time…” he repeated, leading her back.

  “In the enchanted land of Beverly Hills…”

  He grinned in the dark.

  “There was a large castle where a king and queen lived. They loved each other very much and were busy from dawn until dusk entertaining royalty from all over the world and taking care of their subjects. Then, one day, surprise! A little princess arrived. She had the king’s red hair and brown eyes and the queen’s… Actually, she wasn’t like the queen at all, which was a shame, for the queen was lovely and fair.”

  “You’re lovely and f-fair,” he protested.

  “Who’s telling this story?”

  “You are, but g-get your facts right. It’s a g-good story by the w-way.”

  “Not bad for a P.E. major, huh?”

  “No, real g-good. Keep going.” He definitely had her mind off his supposed hypothermia, and his shakes were almost gone.

  “Everyone called the little princess Sunny, except the queen who demanded that people call the little girl Alexandra.”

  “Alexandra! You look like a S-Sunny to me.”

  “Are you going to keep interrupting?”

  “Sorry.”

  “Princess Sunny-Alexandra liked to play in the tower, which was a playhouse in a very large tree. Though the queen wouldn’t allow the princess to climb trees, the tree playhouse was so adorable, the queen couldn’t resist showing it off to her friends who thought she must be an excellent mother.”

  He’d just as soon have his o
wn mom.

  “Sunny loved her playhouse, though she played school there, not house, except when Charles the chauffeur climbed up for tea parties and drank pretend tea with her from tiny china cups. Charles was her best friend. His wife, who was the cook, and her sister, Sunny’s nanny, were dear friends, too. Almost like family.”

  The chauffeur, the cook and the nanny. They were the ones who’d raised her? That broke his heart.

  “To the queen’s horror, she discovered Princess Sunny would rather play ball than dolls. The king ordered knaves to build a really great basketball court on the castle grounds, and the queen didn’t speak to the king for a week.”

  Too bad the king didn’t send the queen to the dungeon.

  “The princess shot a lot of baskets as she grew up.”

  “Career preparation?”

  “I guess.” He felt her stomach shake in silent laughter.

  Man, it felt great, knowing he could make her laugh.

  “The queen didn’t like all that basketball-shooting, but the king liked the idea of the princess being a ballplayer like he was when he was a prince, so she learned to play pretty well. Sometimes the king came to her ball games—which she liked—but not as often as he promised, because the king was very, very busy.”

  Pete didn’t like the sound of that. He’d never be too busy to watch his own kid play ball.

  “The princess went to college, played basketball, became a physical education teacher and began teaching and coaching. In January of her third year of teaching… Could I have a fanfare here?”

  Fanfare? “Tat, tat, tahhh!” He gave it his best and was rewarded when her stomach shook again.

  “The year of her twenty-fifth birthday, the king introduced the princess to a gallant knight in shiny bright armor.”

  “Please, don’t let it be Daniels.”

  “But it was. Sir Bruce,” she confirmed.

  “Sir Skuzz,” he corrected, and she snickered.

  “Sir Skuzz was a great favorite of the king and queen for this knight had big royal dreams and wanted to be just like the king. To prove it, he showered the princess with lots of attention.”