by Anne Chase
Her thoughts were interrupted by an unfamiliar crackling noise, from somewhere down the hallway. The sound was like a speakerphone connected to a static-filled line. She heard a man's voice say, "Dr. Nick, you out there? Over."
"What's that?" she asked.
"CB radio," Nick said. He rose and stepped out of the living room. Unable to restrain herself, Becca followed him down the hallway into a room set up as an office. On a desk stood a CB radio.
Nick picked up the receiver. "Nick here. Angus, that you? Over."
"Doc, it's Daisy," Angus said, his voice crackling through the radio. "Looks like it's time."
"Anything showing?"
"One leg."
"Just one?"
"Just one."
Nick's mouth tightened. "You keep her calm. I'll be there in forty-five. Over."
"Thanks, doc." Even through the static, the relief in Angus's voice was crystal-clear. "See you soon. Over."
19
Nick stood still for a few seconds, frowning. Then he put the receiver back in the cradle and turned. He blinked when he realized Becca was in the study with him.
"Sorry," he said, startled.
"Is everything okay?" she asked.
He shook his head. "That was Angus. He's the llama farmer I talked about. One of his gals — Daisy — is due and her pregnancy hasn't been easy. Now her cria — baby — is coming out the wrong way."
"Wrong way? How so?"
He nodded. "From the sound of it, one of the cria's feet is positioned the wrong way. The condition she's in is dangerous. I need to get out there."
"What can I do to help?"
He took a deep breath. "I'm really sorry about all this. I was looking forward to a quiet evening in front of the fire. I'm ... enjoying getting to know you." The same awkwardness from earlier had returned. "You and Bowzer should make yourselves comfortable. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone."
He stepped past her. "Excuse me. I need to get changed."
She heard his bedroom door close. She stood in the study for a few seconds, adjusting herself to this new situation, then walked back into the living room. Bowzer, still wrapped around Divina, looked up with curiosity but didn't budge from his spot. Clearly, he understand how essential it was for him to continue to be Divina's canine pillow.
She stepped to a window and looked into the blackness of the night. Outside, the storm was going strong. Through the cabin's thick walls, she heard the faint roar of the wind as it whipped through the trees and swirled snow through the air. The blanket of white on the ground looked like it was getting thicker by the second. She wondered how long the storm would be with them before moving on.
Safe and snug in Nick's cabin, she looked at her sleeping dog and his new feline friend in front of the crackling fireplace and felt a surge of gratitude for everything that had happened to her since she'd moved to Heartsprings Valley. Christmas was still hours away, but already she knew that this holiday would be one of her most unusual and memorable ever.
Nick walked back into the living room. He'd changed into heavy winter overalls and thrown a second sweater over his red one.
"I have meats and cheeses and veggies in the fridge," he said as he stepped into the kitchen, "and a loaf of bread on the counter. Also, there's soup in the pantry. Please feel free to have any or all of it. Also, there's food for Bowzer in the mudroom."
She nodded, and was about to thank him when she realized something. "Nick, I —"
"I don't know how long I'll be," he said as he pulled out a medical kit from the pantry. "But I might be gone all night. The guest room is ready, and there are towels in the linen closet in the hall if you want to take a shower."
"Nick, I —"
"I'm sorry I have to head out like this," he said, looking around to make sure he had what he needed. "But duty calls."
"Nick," she said again.
"I —"
"Nick."
He stopped, then went still, finally giving her his full attention.
The words came out of her mouth before she even knew what she was going to say.
"Nick," she said, "I'm going with you."
20
Nick blinked with surprise. "No," he said immediately. "You should stay here."
"I'm going," she said. "I want to help."
"The storm isn't done with us."
"Bowzer and Divina will keep each other company, and I'll come along to help you out."
"It would be safer —"
"You do have a passenger seat, right?"
"Yes," he said, "but —"
"Then it's settled," she said brightly.
"It's not what you think. And in this storm —"
"Nonsense," she said. "I'll be fine."
Without waiting for him to respond, she stepped into the mudroom and began putting on her boots.
He followed and watched her for a few seconds. "I'm pretty sure my passenger seat isn't what you're expecting."
"I'll be fine," she said confidently, though a voice inside her chose that moment to pipe up and whisper, Girl, what are you doing?
She stood up, took her heavy winter coat from the rack, and shrugged herself into it.
Nick frowned as he watched her button herself up. He seemed to be weighing what to say or do next.
She picked up her scarf, wrapped it snugly around her throat, and slipped into her gloves.
"Okay, I'm ready." When he didn't respond, she added, as much for herself as for him, "Listen, I really want to do this. I know there must be something I can do to help. I don't like the thought of you being out all night by yourself. I'd feel terrible if I was stuck here, enjoying your hospitality in your cabin, knowing that you're out there in the cold."
He almost said no — she could tell by the flash of his brown eyes — but then he sighed. "Okay, fine, you can come. But you're free to change your mind when you see what you're in for."
"Let's get going."
He turned and said, "Bowzer!"
Within seconds, the dog joined them in the mudroom.
Nick gestured toward the leash, hanging on the rack. "I've got a few more things to gather. Why don't you take him out for a quick stroll before we leave?"
"Sure thing," she said as she
reached down and attached the leash to Bowzer's collar.
Divina joined them, flicking her tail along Bowzer's flank.
"I'll have Bowzer back in a jiffy," she said to the curious cat.
Steeling herself, Becca opened the cabin door. She gasped as freezing air whipped around her. Bowzer whined apprehensively, but didn't resist as Becca guided him out the door. She closed the door tight and stood still for a second to get her bearings.
Oh my, it was cold. The wind, which she'd heard faintly while in the cabin, was now a loud roar as it pushed through the trees. She felt like she had stepped into something wild and fierce and alive.
"Come on, Bowzer." With a determined step, she led her canine companion off the covered porch and into the snow-covered field. Her boots dropped deeper — much deeper — into whiteness than they had earlier. She wondered how much more snow would fall before the blizzard moved on. A gust of wind blew thick flurries of snow all around her.
Bowzer understood why they were outside and didn't dawdle. When he was finished with his business, he glanced longingly at the cabin and then her, letting her know in no uncertain terms that the cabin was where he wanted to be.
"Good boy," she said. The two of them dashed back to the porch. Becca stamped her boots and brushed her hair free of clinging snow, then opened the door and ushered them back into the mudroom. She reached down and unfastened the leash from Bowzer's collar.
Bowzer turned to get back to the warmth of the fireplace, but, when he realized Becca wasn't following, looked back at her and cocked his head inquisitively.
Becca pulled him closer and gave him a hug. "You're going to stay here with Divina. I'll be gone for awhile with Dr. Nick. I need you to behave yourself, okay?"<
br />
Bowzer looked at her, not really understanding but wanting to please, then glanced up as Nick stepped into the mudroom with his medical bag and a duffel bag.
"Okay," Nick said, "let's go. You be a good boy, okay, Bowzer?"
"We'll be back soon," Becca said. She stood up, then followed Nick out the door. As she turned to grab the door handle, she saw that Divina had joined Bowzer to bid them farewell.
The last image she saw, as she shut the door tight, was Divina wrapping herself around Bowzer's front legs.
21
Becca took a deep breath, then followed Nick down a snow-covered path that wound around the cabin. Through the swirling snow, she saw Nick walk up to a freestanding three-car garage next to the cabin and pull up the middle garage door. As the door rose up, he stepped in and turned on a light, revealing a large black pickup truck with beefy wheels.
She followed him in. A quick glance around revealed a smaller hatchback utility vehicle next to the black truck. The rest of the garage looked like it was set up for woodworking and other kinds of projects.
Nick walked around to the opposite side of the black truck and bent down. Suddenly, an engine roared to life, filling the garage with noise and vibrations.
She stepped around the truck to see what he was doing and gasped.
He was bent over — a snowmobile!
"We're taking that?" she yelled over the sound of the engine. The machine was black and white and looked very powerful, with skis jutting out in front and thick black chains and treads at the base. There was seating for a driver and a passenger, she saw, with a small backrest for the passenger.
A flare of panic rose within her. He'd tried to warn her when he told her that the passenger seat wasn't what she was expecting. She'd never ridden a snowmobile before. How was she going to manage herself on something like that?
Satisfied by the sounds he was hearing, he stood, then yanked up the garage door next to the snowmobile. When he turned, his gaze landed on her face. "You don't have to do this," he yelled over the engine's roar. "The cabin's real comfy compared to what's out there."
The temptation to turn and dash back into the cozy cabin was almost impossible to resist. What if she fell off this thing? What if they crashed? She had no idea how snowmobiles worked or how they felt or what was involved or —
Stop it, she told herself. Calm thyself down, girl.
She took a deep breath, held it for a long second, then exhaled, waiting for her heart rate to dial back to some semblance of normal. Nick was looking at her, waiting for her to respond. His face held no judgment. She knew he'd be fine, even relieved, if she turned tail and dashed back into the cabin. Part of him, she sensed, wanted her to do just that. He had a lot on his mind right now; knowing she was safe and sound in the cabin meant one less thing for him to worry about.
But in that moment, she realized something else. He'd told her she could come, despite the fact that he easily could have told her she couldn't. He easily could have told her the storm made conditions too dangerous for him to bring a passenger, and she would have accepted that statement as the truth. But he hadn't said that, which meant that he was okay with bringing a passenger. No doubt he was an experienced driver, and knew how to get through the storm safely to Angus's farm.
His agreeing to bring her also meant that at least part of him wanted her to come. Of course, he was still concerned about how she'd respond to riding on a snowmobile — a concern she shared as well! But he was on board with the idea of her jumping on board this machine and riding with him out into a winter storm.
So the question was: How ready was she for another adventure?
She took another deep breath, then exhaled again, the sharp cold air filling her lungs.
And heard herself say, in a voice steadier than she had any right to expect, "Let's do this."
No question about it: craziest Christmas ever!
He gave her a grin, then walked behind the snowmobile and grabbed what looked like a small pod on skis.
"What's that?" she said.
"It's a sled for the gear," he said as he hitched the ski-pod to the back of the snowmobile. "You never know what you might need on a house call. Better safe than sorry." He opened the hatch of the pod — revealing a seat inside — and loaded in his vet bag and the duffel bag. He grabbed another duffel bag from under a work bench and tossed it in as well, then shut the pod door.
"Engine's warmed up," he yelled. "Ready?"
No, she almost admitted. But instead she said, with as much confidence as she could muster, "Ready!"
He hopped onto the snowmobile and gently throttled it out of the garage and onto the snow. She followed him outside and watched while he stepped back to the garage, shut off the light switch inside, and pulled shut the two garage doors.
His actions, she realized, were as natural and fluid and instinctive to him as categorizing and shelving books was to her. The two of them had roles to play in this small town. His role just happened to require driving snowmobiles through raging storms to save pregnant animals.
A snowflake landed on her lips and clung there for a few seconds before melting. Nick reached into the ski-pod and pulled out a helmet. He walked up to her. "Ever been on a snowmobile before?"
"Never," she said.
"Let me help you put this on." Gently, he slid the helmet over her head. It fit snugly but comfortably, with a big visor that offered protection from the wind and snow, along with a type of breathing apparatus that, she guessed, prevented the visor from getting fogged up by her breath.
"How's that feel?"
Standing so close to him, his solid presence rising before her, his hands adjusting the helmet to make sure it fastened securely around her head, she felt something she hadn't felt in quite some time: taken care of.
"It feels good," she said.
"The ride's about twenty minutes. It's mostly smooth going, but there's one stretch with twists and ups and downs. You need to hold tight to me the whole time, got it?"
"Got it."
"You need anything, just yell, okay?"
"Got it."
"Okay, let's go." He grabbed another helmet from the ski-pod and put it on, gave the ski-pod's hitch a final check to make sure it was properly attached to the snowmobile, then hopped onto the driver's seat and turned toward her, waiting.
Here goes nothing, she thought. With her heart thumping in her chest, she stepped onto the snowmobile and sat down behind Nick. She looked down to the side of the snowmobile and found a ledge for her to place her boots. The backrest pressed into her back, reassuring her with its presence. The machine beneath her throbbed impatiently, vibrations running through her.
She reached around Nick and, with gloved hands, gripped his waist tightly.
"Ready?" he yelled over his shoulder.
"Ready!" she yelled back.
And then, with a jolt and a roar — they were off!
22
Becca gripped Nick's waist like her life depended on it as the machine dashed through the snow, its engine pulsing beneath her and its roar — even muffled by the helmet — nearly overwhelming her. She felt every movement, every turn, every easing and revving of the throttle. The wind and snow swirled around them, a constant reminder of the nor'easter's strength.
Her heart, fueled by adrenaline and fear, had moved into her throat and was pounding away like nobody's business. She leaned into Nick, her gloved hands holding tight to his winter coat.
Gradually, as the snowmobile made its way over the fresh snow, her heart began to settle back into its usual spot in her chest and she started to breathe in a somewhat more normal manner. Through the darkness and swirling snow, she began to notice the scenery as they steadily chugged by.
And they were chugging and not racing, she realized. Perhaps because of the sled they were towing, perhaps because of her, perhaps because of the storm or the darkness or all of the above, Nick was keeping a steady, cautious pace, the engine humming along without much in
the way of throbs or roars.
They were on a snow-covered road, she realized. It was probably the mountain road that led to Nick's cabin, now covered in pristine white snow, with more falling steadily. With this much fresh powder, the road was most likely impassable to all but vehicles like the one they were on now.
The powerful headlight from the snowmobile sliced through the storm, illuminating the stretch of road ahead. Somewhat to her surprise, she began to relax, reassured by Nick's careful handling. The snowmobile gripped the turns on the road easily and smoothly. The trees on either side of the road were heavy with snow. The helmet and Nick's solid presence in front of her helped protect her from most of the storm's cold wind.
From what she could tell, they seemed to be the only people out and about. She recalled what Bert Winters had said about the snowplow not working. Until it was fixed, the only way for people to get around in weather like this was by snowmobile. Or, if they were in good shape and didn't mind a workout, by skiing or snowshoes.
Gradually, the snow-covered road began to level out. They were leaving the mountain and heading onto the flatter road of the valley outside of town. The snowmobile managed the road easily, gripping the snow and pushing them forward effortlessly.
After a few more minutes of driving, Nick slowed and came to a stop on a flat stretch of road.
"How you doing?" he yelled over his shoulder.
"Good!" she yelled back.
"We're close to the farm now. The last mile gets twisty — the road runs along a creek — so hold tight."
"Got it."
Nick gripped the throttle and — whoosh! — they were off again. Carefully, the snowmobile turned onto a side road. Through the darkness, she made out a fence running alongside them, the tips of its wooden posts topped with fresh snow. For the first time since hopping on board, she felt a smile coming to her lips. She was on quite the adventure — and so far she was doing fine.
