An Allegheny Homecoming

by T. R. McClure

  Bear Meadows was determined not to leave Josh alone.

  * * *

  WENDY COULDN’T FEEL her toes. The thin black leather and the even thinner socks weren’t doing a very good job of keeping her warm. But then again, she hadn’t worn them thinking she’d be wrestling her five-year-old car out of a snowdrift. But this nice, new truck threw out tons of heat. Wrapping her arms around herself, she hazarded a glance at the stranger settling into the driver’s seat and backing the truck onto the road. A fur-lined hood covered half his face and a dark beard the other, concealing his age. He could be twenty-five or forty-five.

  Did she know him? Someone from the station? The shivering in her body seemed to be bouncing her brain around so much she couldn’t think straight.

  Maybe she should buy a truck. But she wouldn’t need a truck in Burbank, right? Why was she thinking about Burbank? She didn’t want to be a producer, did she? The truck eased forward. “Do I...” She had to stop and think for a minute. She lifted a hand to her frozen cheeks. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back. “I’m... I’m... I’m so-o-o cold.”

  His gaze didn’t waver from the white curtain before them as the truck navigated a small hill. A gloved hand reached out and wiped the condensation from the windshield. “We’ll be at the cabin in a few minutes.”

  A spasm of alarm shot through her at the words from the bearded giant. The makeup assistant at the station had told her of a long ago incident not far from here. A man had come down from the mountains and kidnapped a girl. The FBI had actually been called in. Had the man been caught? She couldn’t remember. She edged closer to the door and wrapped her fingers around the handle. She was considering launching herself into the high drifts when he made a sharp turn and the lights revealed a cozy cabin with a swing on the front porch. Somehow the swing eased her fears a bit.

  “I’ll go in and start a fire.” The man turned and fixed her with a stare.

  In the darkness of the cab, she couldn’t tell the color of his eyes. Just a glint, a spark of life—

  “I’ll leave the truck running for heat.”

  Before she could answer, he opened the door, letting in a blast of wind and flurries. Just as quickly the door slammed, and she watched as his long legs ran through the deep snow and carried him up onto the porch. He fumbled around above the door and then disappeared into the cabin.

  She eyed the ignition, where the fob hung from the key still inserted. Nothing personal to clue her in to the kind of man who had rescued her. No sports memorabilia, no cartoon figure. Just a black fob. She could drive away. She could drive home. The man’s footprints had almost already disappeared in the rapidly falling snow. Who was she kidding? She again leaned her head back and closed her eyes. If worse came to worst she’d have a heck of a story. Local Woman Captured by Mountain Man in Blizzard of the Century. No, that was too many words for a headline. Local Woman Disappears. There, short, concise, attention grabbing. She smiled, pleased, then the grin faded.

  Interesting story, for sure...but only if she lived to tell about it.

  * * *

  SHE WAS ASLEEP. Looking through the window at the young woman huddled in the cab of his truck, Josh frowned. He had no way of knowing how long she had been outside working to free her car from the snow, and she certainly wasn’t dressed for the frigid temperatures. No hat. Straight dark hair curved perfectly under her chin. Bright red lipstick and heavy mascara, as if she had just come from an event. Or maybe a date. His main concern was hypothermia, followed by frostbite. She had been wearing thin driving gloves. That was one reason why he left her in the truck while he started a fire. But the heat had been too much for her.

  Despite his less than friendly appearance and the fact he had brought her to a strange place, the woman had fallen asleep, her cheek pressed against the glass.

  When he opened the door she fell into his arms. Which would have been fine, considering he planned to carry her through the deep snow, but she woke with the sudden movement and immediately began thrashing.

  When a fist connected with his jaw, he stumbled backward. She might have made her escape then, except he had one arm half around her so as he fell he pulled her with him. For a second time, they both landed in the snow. “What the heck, lady?”

  She pushed off him and blurted, “Who...who are you?”

  “I—”

  “And wh-wh-why did you bring me here?”

  “Well—”

  “I...I live across the creek, but now I’m...at this...” Finally taking a breath, she waved a hand at the cabin. “...place.”

  “The road is impassable on the other side of the creek.” Josh propped himself on his elbows. “You’re safe here...and you can get warm. I think you might have hypothermia, and if we don’t get you inside, you’ll have frostbite for sure.”

  Her gaze flicked between him, the truck and the cabin. Mumbling, she rested her forehead on her hand. The snow had already made her black jacket white.

  He wasn’t sure, but Josh thought he heard something about going home. Lifting himself to his feet, he held out a hand. “Do you mind if we continue this conversation inside?”

  She looked at his hand. “I can walk by myself.”

  He withdrew. “Fine. You go on in, and I’ll shut off the truck.” He slammed the door and watched the petite woman lift one leg at a time from the deep snow. She teetered to one side, and he held his breath until she managed to right herself. She dragged herself onto the porch and then disappeared into the cabin.

  Josh shut his eyes and lifted his face skyward. Snowflakes melted on his skin and gathered in his beard. He wished he hadn’t been the one to find the woman stuck in the drift. Maybe if he had kept going, one of the snowplow drivers would have found her. But by then, she could have frozen to death.

  Josh didn’t want to be drawn into any small-town drama. He was still struggling with his parents and their issues. He didn’t feel like he had the full story yet about his mother’s weight loss, and why she and his father couldn’t work things out.

  Through the cabin window, he could see the flicker of the fire he had started in the fireplace. The sight might be welcome to someone else, but not to Josh. He didn’t want to be here. The first glance he had of the cabin in years made him face the reality that the building was hardly fit for habitation, just as his mother had said. Maybe he should have driven her to the church. At least the flue was clear and able to take the smoke out into the storm. He opened the truck door again and retrieved the sleeping bag, pillow and his small duffel bag. He would help the lady warm up, but first thing tomorrow he was taking her home and going about the business that had brought him to Bear Meadows.

  Supplies under his arm, he tromped through the snow. One foot on the first step, he paused at the sight of a few spindly branches sticking out of the pile of snow to the left. Something new since the last time he was home. The thorns on the branches indicated a rosebush, and knowing his mother, he bet she had rescued an heirloom shrub from somewhere and given it a new home at the cabin.

  Stomping his boots on the porch, he opened the door. She sat cross-legged on the hearth, close to the roaring fire. Working as a medic in the desert didn’t give him much experience on frostbite, but he remembered a little bit from his training. One of the most important things was to warm the victim up slowly.

  Hanging his parka on a hook by the door, he surveyed the space. The kitchen had a small fridge that, he remembered, needed a generator to run. A folded blanket, a quilt and camp supplies sat on the counter. There was an unfinished flight of stairs that led to a loft that looked out over the creek. But only two treads had been laid. The rest were stacked nearby. Obviously, his parents had stopped working on the cabin. But for now, the structure offered him and the lady a roof over their heads, protection from the winds and a fire for warmth. He had been lucky to find a pack of matches in a
kitchen drawer. His gaze finally landed on the woman. Her chin rested on her chest. Walking toward the counter, he took the quilt and spread it on the floor in front of the fireplace. He lay his sleeping bag over top. She didn’t move, so he rested one hand on the woman’s shoulder. Her eyes flickered. She kept silent.

  Josh knelt in front of her and reached for the zipper on one pretty black boot. One of the first signs of hypothermia was confusion. He glanced at her face, registering her breathing. He hoped she wasn’t too far along. At some point people needed medical care.

  He removed both of her boots, and then her wet socks. Her feet were ice cold. He chanced a glimpse, but she said nothing. He found a pair of thick socks in his duffel bag. When he removed her coat and took off her gloves, he noticed the tips of her fingers were white. She was going to be in pain when the blood started circulating again. Warm her up slowly. He checked her face for signs of distress. Dark eyelashes lay upon white cheeks. Then he eased her onto the blanket and checked her pulse. She moaned and brought her hands close to her chest.

  He looked around the cabin and found a two-burner camp propane stove and a metal coffeepot. His mother had probably been coming to the cabin to get away. And from what he remembered, she wasn’t often without a cup of coffee in her hand. Starting the propane heater, he poured water from the gallon jug into a pan and placed it on the stove. He was surprised to find a box of chamomile tea in a paper bag.

  When the tea was ready, he carried the cup over to his visitor and jostled her shoulder. He knelt. “Wake up. You should drink this.”

  Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to sit. Finally he placed an arm around her back for support. Brown eyes blinked. For the first time he noticed dark circles under her eyes. “What is it?”

  “It’s hot tea. Can you hold the cup?” He handed it to her. Her shivers had reduced to an occasional shudder, but she was able to wrap her hands around the mug and sip.

  She should be okay. Her pulse was strong. She was alert. He had done his civic duty.

  * * *

  THE STINGING IN her fingers and toes woke her. Then the growling of her empty stomach. When her eyes popped open, the first thing she saw, lying on her side as she was, was a log glowing in a stone fireplace. The rest of the room was pitch-black. She pressed her fingers against her lips. Despite the pins and needles feeling, the rest of her was warm and comfortable. But she had no memory of where she was or how she got here.

  Her gaze flicked upward. A single box of matches lay on one corner of the carved mantel. No clues there. A broom, the kind witches were known to fly, stood in the far corner. Her monogrammed quilted jacket from the station hung over the back of a wooden chair a few feet back from the fire, next to a small table. Her boots had been placed neatly on the floor. She wiggled her toes and could feel heavy loose socks.

  Then she noticed the weight across her middle. She ran her hand along an arm wrapped in flannel. Her breath hitched as she rolled halfway over. When she saw the dark beard, everything came rushing back. The interview at the church, the coffee with Phil, the drive home with snow coming down so thick she could barely see two feet in front of her, and then just as she drove up the slight incline to the bridge, her car sliding backward into a ditch.

  Her car was in a snowdrift near the bridge over Little Bear Creek. And she didn’t know who had rescued her. She hazarded another look at the bearded face. If he had indeed rescued her. She lifted his arm and placed it on his hip. He continued to sleep, his breathing even. She threw back the covers and slowly stood. Despite the fire, the floor was freezing. She tiptoed over to the window and looked out on the darkness. The snow was still coming down. She could barely make out the hulking form of the pickup. She chose the wooden chair by the fire and took in her surroundings.

  Apparently the cabin was a work in progress.

  Her stomach rumbled again, and she remembered all she had eaten that day was a container of yogurt and the ham sandwich at the church. She reached around for her coat and laid it across her lap so she could check the pockets for food.

  “I hope you’re not thinking about going back out into the blizzard.”

  She jumped at the words coming from the sleeping bag. She glanced down, barely able to make out the glint from his eyes as they reflected the fire. “I was looking for food.”

  One hand, then both arms emerged from under the sleeping bag. “You and me both. I missed supper.”

  “I had a ham sandwich at the church.” The bearded man wore a wrinkled blue plaid shirt. The third button down hung by a few threads. She still didn’t know who or what she was dealing with here. She closed her fingers around the house key in her coat pocket. If he threatened her, she could always stab him. With the house key.

  “I thought you were going into hypothermia. You were a little confused earlier.” He reached overhead and stretched with a loud yawn.

  Somehow he didn’t look as intimidating yawning. But criminals yawned. “I was?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She remembered considering jumping out of the truck. “I thought you were a mountain man.” She looked at him. “You’re not, are you?”

  “A mountain man?” Leaning back on both elbows, he grinned. “No. No, I’m not a mountain man.”

  “But I don’t even know who you are.”

  His smile grew wider. “We’re even then.”

  She waited. But Walt’s journalist trick didn’t work on this guy. He didn’t seem to be much of a talker. “My name is Wendy.”

  Even white teeth flashed from the dark beard. “Nice to meet you, Wendy. Did you have any luck with those pockets?” She looked down at the coat in her lap. Her fingers still clutched the house key. She flexed her fingers and felt something else. Withdrawing her hand, she held up Riley’s baby gift. “One Hershey Kiss. Want to split it?”

  He laughed, a deep, rumbling laugh and suddenly she felt better than she had since he had pulled her from underneath the car. “You need the energy more than I do.” Crawling onto the floor just as she had minutes before, he stood. “I’ll see if I can find something to go with a single Hershey Kiss.”

  Ten minutes later she sat on the chair, the quilt around her shoulders. Coffee bubbled in the glass top of an old-fashioned percolator tucked close to the fire. Using one of his gloves as a hot pad, Josh picked up the pot and poured each of them a coffee. “I have no idea how old this coffee is.” He walked over to where his coat hung on a hook by the door and reached into a pocket. When he returned he handed her a cookie and placed the bag between them.

  Wendy picked up the mug covered with pink roses and sipped. “Is this your cabin?”

  His mug was dark green with the words Army Mom on the side. “Belongs to my family.”

  Funny, but she didn’t remember ever seeing the man across from her around town. She set down her cup, reached for a cookie and took a bite. “Not bad. Try one.” The man carried homemade sugar cookies around in his coat pocket. The treat reminded her of something, but she couldn’t recall what. Her mother certainly wasn’t a baker, even during the holidays. She watched the man, roughly her own age, she decided, devour his cookie in two bites. “You must be starved. You can have the rest. I’m still working on this one.”

  “No, we share. That’s fair.” He reached for another cookie. “But I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone eat a cookie as slowly as you.”

  “My father says I eat slowly because I like to savor my food.” She smiled, thinking of her parents’ exasperation with her dawdling over dessert as a child.

  “Speaking of parents, aren’t yours worried about you? I grabbed your purse from the car. Maybe you should call somebody? A boyfriend? A coworker, even.”

  Wendy laughed at the thought of calling Phil away from his family. Only then did Wendy notice her purse next to her boots. Reaching over, she searched the contents for her phone. She
held the screen next to the fire to see. “Dead. I was wondering what time it is.”

  “Oh dark thirty.”

  Smiling at his response, she dropped the phone back in the purse. “No boyfriend. And my parents are away, not that they would notice. Dad is with his other daughter. His favorite.” She forced a smile and decided to change the subject. She held up the rose cup. “Seems like an odd choice for a manly man such as yourself.”

  He laughed. “That’s my mom’s.”

  She took a deep breath and felt a little better. Although plenty of serial killers had mother issues. “This has been quite the adventure.” She tilted her head toward the back corner of the room. “What’s behind that door?”

  The man twisted to see where she was looking. “The bathroom. Green.”

  “Green?”

  “Compostable.”

  “Oh. Well, at least there’s a bathroom.”

  “I have my priorities.” His grin disappeared when he picked up the two remaining cookies. “You should eat these. Your body needs to manufacture heat to make up for your drop in body temperature.”

  “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll eat one more if you eat the other.” She held up the Hershey Kiss. “And we split this.”

  His teeth flashed behind the beard. “Deal.”

  She picked up the tiny pyramid of chocolate, bit off half and handed her companion the remainder.

  “Thank you.”

  She shivered. The half of her body next to the fire was warm, but the other half was freezing.

  “You should get back under the blanket. This cabin wasn’t intended for winter occupation.” Taking her empty cup with the roses, he carried both over to the counter.

  Wendy slithered under the covers and rolled over so she faced the fire. She heard him use the bathroom, then walk over to the chair that she’d just vacated. A heavy silence filled the room. Military. Oh dark thirty was a military reference. She shivered again.