by Anne Chase
She kept pushing forward. "Down is good," she said out loud. "Down is good."
They reached a fork in the path. The snow was starting to lay more heavily on the ground. With each step, her boots were sinking deeper into the snow.
She tried to remember which way she'd come up so that she could take the correct path down to the lake. But without the visual references, remembering the right path was not as straightforward as she'd hoped.
A wave of anxiety tore through her. Immediately, her mind went to the worst-case scenario. She imagined the newspaper story: "Foolish woman frozen to death on hike on Christmas Eve. She knew a storm was coming, but she went on a hike anyway!"
The worst part was that she had put Bowzer in danger, a point that the newspaper article would be sure to make. "Also frozen to death by this reckless fool was a wonderful rescue dog named Bowzer. He was an amazing dog, whose joyful energy and friendly disposition will be greatly missed."
Oh, what had she done? She couldn't let anything happen to Bowzer. She had to find a way to safety — a way out of this storm!
Calm yourself, Becca, she told herself. Take a deep breath. Her heart, which had been racing with anxiety, started to slow as she forced herself to assess her situation. Yes, that's good. Now take another breath.
She could still see the path, despite the wind and snow. Paths were designed to lead somewhere. If she stayed on the path, she'd find her way back home. She could do this. She'd faced adversity before. She could face it again. She took another deep breath.
"We're going to be fine, Bowzer," she said. "We're going to find a way off this mountain and get back home."
Bowzer looked up at her with concern and compassion — smart as he was, he couldn't help but pick up on her fear — and gave her an encouraging bark.
Heart thumping, she led Bowzer on. Oh, she hoped she'd made the right choice at the fork in the path. If she'd picked the wrong path — no, she couldn't think about that.
The storm wasn't going to let up anytime soon, she sensed. And with the afternoon sliding toward dusk, the dim light would soon fade to blackness. And if that happened....
Oh, gosh — she'd forgotten she had her phone with her! She reached into her coat and took it out and pressed the "on" button. Anxiously, she waited for the phone to pick up a signal. Please please please....
But no. She wasn't close enough to town. Out here in the wilderness, her phone wasn't going to be any help.
But it would work as a flashlight, she realized. If she was still out here when it got dark, she could use her phone to light the way....
Pushing the thought aside, she turned off her phone and returned it to her coat. She wasn't going to be out here for long, because she was going to find her way back home! She and Bowzer were going to be fine.
With the snow swirling around her and frigid arctic air in her face, she couldn't tell if the path was the same one she had walked up. The trees around her swayed as the wind roared through them.
Suddenly, Bowzer bounded forward. The leash went taut in her hand as he strained toward something that only he could see.
She realized through the gloom that she was walking alongside an open field — and she certainly hadn't passed an open field on her way up the mountain. With a sigh of despair, she realized she'd chosen the wrong path. She'd have to turn around and head back. And with the snow getting thicker by the minute, that wasn't going to be easy.
What had Bowzer seen or smelled that made him suddenly so determined to push forward? Maybe she should trust him and let him take the lead?
Yes, she thought. For a few minutes, at least, she'd let him lead her, rather than the other way around.
"Okay, Bowzer," she said to her canine companion. "What's making you so excited?"
With an eager tug on the leash, Bowzer led her further up the path. And as they reached a bend, she saw why:
Lights!
From a house!
The house was at the top of an open meadow, perhaps a couple hundred yards off the path.
Bowzer could barely restrain himself now. There was a determined eagerness in every ounce of him.
If they went to the house, could she ask for directions? Could she ask to use their phone?
Yes! she nearly said out loud.
The house probably had a driveway. Should she look for the driveway and walk up that? Or should she do what Bowzer clearly wanted her to do — leave the path and bound across the open field of snow?
Bowzer answered that for her. He aimed himself off the path in the direction of the house, pulling her with him.
Amid the howling wind of the storm, she heard a thwack. It was a sound she'd heard before but couldn't quite place.
She heard it again, sharp and distinct, and then saw the source.
A man stood in the field, near the house, swinging an ax onto a log, the blade's impact cutting through the storm's roar like a knife through hot butter.
Bowzer barked and rushed forward with so much energy that the leash slipped from her hand.
Before she could say a word, Bowzer blasted through the snowy field and practically leaped at the startled man.
"Bowzer?" she heard the man say, disbelief in his voice. He set down the ax and reached for the dog. He found the leash on Bowzer's collar and said, "What are you doing here?"
Bowzer barked, then turned toward Becca, who was still several yards away, huffing and puffing from running up the hill after Bowzer.
"I'm so sorry!" she said as she approached the man.
"What's going on here?" the man said, disbelief in his voice.
"I'm sorry, I —"
"What do you think you're doing, hiking the trails during a blizzard?" the man said angrily. "Don't you know how dangerous that is?"
13
He was tall, she realized. Tall and lean, with broad shoulders beneath his mackinaw jacket. He wore a ski cap over brown hair. As she stepped closer, she saw a handsome face with angry brown eyes aimed right at her.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "The weather was so perfect, and the storm came so suddenly —"
"How long have you been out in the storm?" he said, interrupting her.
"For awhile, I guess."
"You need to get inside," he said, in a tone that brooked no debate.
"Are you sure? Maybe if I could use your phone —"
"You and Bowzer need to get out of this storm."
He stepped forward and handed her the leash, then pointed to the cabin at the top of the hill. "Take him up there." Without another word, he turned and started picking up the wood he'd been chopping.
She blinked at the suddenness of her dismissal. Tears stung her eyes. The man was so angry — and for good reason. She'd put herself and Bowzer in danger. She felt like such a fool.
But his manner toward her — did he have to be so abrupt? Feeling she had no choice, she trudged up the hill toward the cabin, torn between feeling grateful and ashamed and angry.
By the time she and Bowzer reached the cabin's front porch, the man was only a few seconds behind, firewood in his arms. He dropped the firewood onto a stack near the door, then turned to her.
"You sure you're okay?" he asked, giving her and Bowzer another once-over. His voice still had anger in it, but there was concern in his tone as well.
"I'm fine," she said immediately, aware of the defensiveness in her voice and wishing it wasn't there.
The man knelt down and gestured to Bowzer, who instantly went to him and waited patiently while the man gave him a quick examination.
"Good boy," he said, giving Bowzer's ears an affectionate shake.
The man stood and stamped his boots to get the snow off. As he did so, she realized something.
"You know Bowzer," she said. "And he knows you. Why is that?"
He took off his snow cap, revealing a head of shaggy brown hair. He appeared to be a few years older than her — mid-thirties, perhaps. His gaze went from her to Bowzer and back.
"I'm his ve
t," he said.
"Oh!" she said, with a small gasp of surprise. "You're Dr. Nick."
He gave her a tight smile. "Nick Shepherd, rescuer of lost damsels and dogs, at your service." He stamped his feet one more time, then pushed open the cabin door. "Let's get you and Bowzer inside."
The door swung open, revealing a small, warmly lit mudroom with shoes lined up under a wooden bench and winter coats hanging from hooks on the wood-paneled wall.
The promise of heat inside the cabin drew her closer, like an invisible force field.
"Are you sure?" she said.
"Absolutely. There's no way you can stay outside right now. The storm's only going to get worse."
She stamped her boots to dislodge the snow and, with Bowzer leading the way, stepped into Dr. Nick's cabin.
Nick followed her in and shut the door behind him. Instantly, the frigid cold disappeared, replaced by a hint of warmth. Her host sat on the bench, untied his boots, then slipped his feet out of them and into a pair of worn moccasins. He stood and shrugged off his mackinaw jacket, revealing a blue wool sweater.
"You can hang your coat on the rack," he said. "Let me get you a pair of slippers." Without another word, he stepped out of the mudroom.
She turned to Bowzer, who was looking up at her with an eager expression. She leaned down and gave him a quick hug. "We'll get home soon, okay? You going to be a good boy as a guest of Dr. Nick?"
Bowzer whined with agreement and waited patiently while she unhooked the leash from his collar. Nose aquiver, he ambled out of the mudroom into the cabin, leaving her to unwrap the scarf from around her neck, take off her gloves, and unzip her heavy winter coat.
Thank goodness she'd decided to dress warmly when she'd left her cottage. If she hadn't.... She shook her head at the thought.
As she was hanging her coat on a hook, Dr. Nick appeared with a pair of fuzzy reindeer slippers. He shrugged apologetically. "These are the only slippers I have that are even close to your size."
She gave him a smile, her first since meeting him. "I'm sure these will be fine, thank you." She took the slippers, sat down on the bench, removed her boots, and stepped into the reindeer slippers. Depending on your point of view, they looked either adorable or silly or both. But at least they were warm and soft.
As she stood up, she realized how incredibly self-conscious she felt. How did her face look after being caught in the storm? And what outfit had she chosen to wear again? A glance down reminded her, to her relief, that she'd picked the burgundy turtleneck sweater and dark ski pants.
She glanced at her host and got the sense that he was feeling awkward as well. He stood there, looking at her, seemingly at a loss for words.
"Please," he finally said, with a welcoming gesture, "come in."
"Thank you," she replied, suddenly overcome by a need to be very polite.
As she stepped from the mudroom, she spied a small mirror on the wall and was gratified by her quick glance: no apparent facial emergencies. A closer inspection would be required, of course, but first she —
Oh, how rude she'd been! She whirled around and extended her hand. "I haven't introduced myself. Becca Jameson."
Startled by her rapid turnaround, Dr. Nick nearly bumped into her. Recovering, he backed away and blinked, then looked at her offered hand.
"Pleased to meet you," he said. His hand, rough and strong and warm, fit around hers like it was meant to be there. A current passed between them that threatened to take her breath away. She had to restrain herself from gasping.
Quickly, before she made even more of a fool of herself, she removed her hand. He looked up and found herself gazing into a pair of very brown, very surprised eyes.
He blinked again. "Pleased to meet you," he repeated. "I mean, please, come in."
She turned and found herself gazing in appreciation at what she saw. The mudroom led into a beautiful kitchen, spacious and recently renovated, equipped with cherry cabinets, dark-gray marble countertops, and stainless steel appliances. In the center of the kitchen was a large island with a prep sink and a butcher-block countertop. Everything look fresh and crisp and new.
Beyond the kitchen was a wide-open living space designed in the style of a rustic high-end cabin. The walls were made of logs, and wooden beams crisscrossed the cathedral ceiling. Near the kitchen was a dining table with six chairs. A seating area — mocha-colored leather couches and chairs — were in the center of room, facing a roaring fire in a huge stone fireplace.
She leaned against the kitchen island as she took in the warmth and beauty of the space, her fingertips lightly brushing the butcher block countertop. Everything felt so cozy and inviting and comforting. Everything, that is, except her anxiety about why she was here, and the bad opinion that Dr. Nick must have of her.
"You have a beautiful cabin," she said, unable to shake her need to be polite.
"Thank you." After another awkward pause, he added, "Listen, I'm sorry about yelling back there."
She turned to face him. "Oh, no need to apologize—"
"No, I was abrupt." There was something adorable about his awkwardness in that moment. He seemed to be struggling for the right words. "You and Bowzer startled me, but I should have realized that you needed help, not a lecture."
"I totally understand," she said, pleased by his words, but feeling the need to own up to her own mistakes. "And I want to apologize, too! You must have been so surprised to see Bowzer appear from out of nowhere, and in the middle of a storm."
He shrugged and smiled. "Bowzer was about the last thing I expected to see out there."
She smiled back. "He sensed you from quite a ways away. He was practically dragging me toward you."
He glanced across the room to where Bowzer was sniffing near the fireplace before returning to her.
"Well," he said, "I'm glad he did." He paused then, holding her gaze, then said, in a brisker tone, "Now, are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine."
"How long were you out in the storm?"
"Not too long. We started our walk a couple of hours ago."
"So not too long. Good. So, no frostbite? No toes or fingers that need warming?"
"I dressed warmly. Luckily for me."
"Good." He blinked suddenly. "I just realized — can I get you something to drink? To eat?"
"Oh, no," she said reflexively. "No, I'm fine."
"You're going to be stuck here awhile," he said, gesturing toward the storm outside. "There's no going out until the blizzard passes. I was planning on hot cocoa when I got done with the firewood. It's no problem at all."
Hot cocoa? She loved hot cocoa. "If you're sure it's no trouble...."
"No trouble at all." He gave her a smile — big and easy and natural — and turned toward the kitchen. "I'll get Bowzer some food and water, too."
"What can I do to help?"
"Nothing. Make yourself comfortable."
"Would it be okay if I freshen up a bit?" she asked.
"Of course. The bathroom's that way." He pointed across the living room to a hallway that she presumed led to the other rooms in the house.
"Thank you. Be right back."
With a glance at Bowzer, who was now very intently exploring Dr. Nick's dining area, Becca made her way down the hallway. The bathroom was the first door on the left. When she flipped on the light switch, she found herself in a room as new and modern and beautifully decorated as the kitchen, with a new sink, shower/tub, and toilet. The walls were covered with wallpaper — a huge, beautiful, and very dramatic panoramic photo of Heartsprings Valley. She stepped back to look at the photo and realized that the shot had been taken from the same vantage point she'd stood at earlier, while she'd watched the nor'easter sweep across the valley toward her....
She shook herself, grateful that she and Bowzer had found a warm place to ride out the storm, and turned her attention to her real goal: the mirror. It had been a couple of hours since she'd checked her face at the cottage, and a lot had happened
to it since then, including a raging storm!
As she examined herself in the mirror, she realized she'd been lucky. No makeup disasters had occurred. In fact, looking at her reflection, she would hardly have guessed that, mere minutes ago, she'd been lost on a mountain in a wet wintry mess.
There was something so surreal about her situation. How could Heartsprings Valley, a gentle town populated with some of the nicest people she'd ever met, be the cause of so much craziness? Because — and there was no doubt about this — the past two days had been crazy! In the past twenty-four hours, she'd experienced all manner of the unexpected: A new canine companion. Caught in a dangerous winter storm. In the cabin of a stranger. A stranger who seemed very attractive, by the way. A stranger who also, once he got over his initial anger and shock of their initial meeting, seemed decent and nice....
She felt a stab of excitement mixed with guilt as she realized where her thoughts were heading. Yes, she forced herself to acknowledge, she'd felt an attraction to this man. The electricity that passed between them when he took her hand in his — that had been real. She took a deep breath. Tears threatened. She took another deep breath to push them down.
You're making more of this than you need to and certainly much more than you should, she told herself. Calm down, girl.
The feeling she thought of as attraction — she was probably mistaken. What she was feeling was gratitude to Dr. Nick for helping her and Bowzer and offering them shelter from the storm. He was just being decent and neighborly. He was Bowzer's vet. That's what his friendliness was about.
There's nothing more to it than that. She and Dr. Nick were new neighbors, that was all. She would see him from time to time around town. They would chat. Maybe over time they would become friends. That happened sometimes, right?
And about finding him attractive — well, so what? The world was full of men who were tall and handsome, with broad shoulders and warm brown eyes. No doubt she would find those men attractive, too. She was human, after all. Was there any harm in noticing a fine-looking fellow every now and then?
She took another deep breath and exhaled, then breathed in and out again, relieved to feel herself calming down. It was good to check in with herself occasionally. She liked herself better when her head was in the right emotional space.
