Breaking the Ice

by Kim Baldwin

  “Thank you. I’m glad you’re enjoying the show, because it’s absolutely killing me not to pin you to that bed right now until you beg for mercy.”

  “Keep talking like that, and we may have a competition to see who pins whom.”

  Bryson laughed and pulled Karla to her feet. “Your turn.” Karla started to reach for her, but Bryson dodged her with a grin and hopped onto the bed. “The sooner you get undressed,” she said, climbing between the sheets, “the sooner I can…uh…” She gaped when she saw how fast Karla was peeling off her clothes.

  By the time she stripped, Bryson’s expression had turned from mirthful to smoldering. “Come here,” she beckoned, pulling aside the coverlet.

  Karla moved into Bryson’s outstretched arms, and Bryson’s mouth claimed hers in a slow, sensual kiss as their bodies came together along their full length. As the kiss built in heat and intensity, Bryson rolled on top of her and thrust a firmly muscled thigh between her legs.

  Arousal burned in Karla as they clung to each other, tongues stroking deep, their full passion flaring. A bonfire of need and yearning and surrender engulfed her. When she raked her nails down Bryson’s back, Bryson broke the kiss and threw her head back in ecstasy as a sound—half groan and half growl—reverberated from the back of her throat. Karla clenched Bryson’s lean, muscled ass, and her hips rose to maximize the pressure of their pelvis-to-pelvis contact. Bryson looked down at her, brown eyes darkened by desire and lips rosy and swollen from their kisses. The hunger in her expression sent a thrill through Karla, ratcheting her excitement even higher.

  “How you make me feel…” she gasped, heaving for air. It wasn’t the kisses alone that left her breathless. The rush of adrenaline was dizzying, too. “…never like this. Never.”

  Bryson slowly nodded, and a combination of joy and relief came over her face. She bore down upon Karla again, kissing her soundly and shifting her weight to the side so she could caress her with one hand. Despite the ferocity of their kiss, Bryson’s touch was maddeningly light as her fingers trailed down Karla’s shoulder to her upper arm, then down her hip and thigh, and back up to her chest. When they reached the outer curve of her breast, she moaned. Bryson gently bit her lower lip as she claimed the breast with the full contact of her palm, producing a sudden rush of sensation. Her nipple was instantly erect, and moisture surged between her legs.

  Bryson must have felt it, too, because she thrust her thigh more firmly against Karla’s center, rocking against her, creating a delicious friction that brought her dangerously close to climax. Another minute or two and she would have come, but Bryson stopped to move down her body, trailing wet kisses from her neck to her collarbone, then down her cleavage. Bryson’s tongue traced the curve of one breast, and then her mouth closed over the nipple and sucked, hard. Karla’s hips bucked upward as she raked circles into Bryson’s back with her nails.

  Another surge of wetness poured out of her as Bryson lavished her other breast with her mouth. The maelstrom of sensations brought her once again to the precipice; she bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.

  Her enormous need for release was intolerable. She wanted to make this incredible buildup of excitement last, but she was incapable of self-control. She grabbed Bryson’s hair and pushed her head lower as she opened her legs. “Please, Bryson. I’m so close.”

  When Bryson delivered her with measured and well-placed strokes of her tongue, she cried out and clenched at the sheets, then collapsed in a fog of overload. As she calmed and caught her breath, Bryson sweetly kissed her thighs and abdomen, working her way back up Karla’s body to lie on her side beside her.

  Karla rolled into her embrace and buried her face in the soft warm skin at the base of Bryson’s throat. Her body thrummed with aftershocks. “Oh my,” she whispered, gripping Bryson tight.

  “You’re amazing.” Bryson kissed her forehead. “Sooo hot.”

  “What you do to me, Bryson. What you do to me.” She couldn’t begin to convey how utterly and completely she felt when Bryson touched her. Her body, head to toe, her senses, her mind, her imagination. All of her roared to life like she had been dozing too long. Full speed ahead, all the bits and pieces of her working in harmony to achieve the perfect orgasm.

  “I can say the same.” Bryson clenched her jaw. The effect of Karla’s touch was unbelievably powerful. Though she held Karla with infinite tenderness, her body still shrieked with arousal. She was so far gone, falling hard and fast, first enamored by Karla’s loveliness and vulnerability, then enchanted by her humor, open honesty, and strength. It had taken such courage for her to deal with all she’d been slammed with. No matter what the challenge, Karla faced it with quiet resolve.

  Bryson so wanted to freeze this moment. Everything she’d dreamed she should feel—that spark, that special chemistry, that gut instinct that this was the one—she was finally experiencing. Why now? Why Karla? It seemed so unfair. Bryson memorized every detail. The softness of Karla’s hair and skin, the aroma of her perfume, mixed with the scent of their arousal, the sound Karla made when she climaxed, and the heightened sensations of her own body.

  Karla stirred from her lassitude, disengaging slightly from their embrace to place a long, wet kiss at the hollow of Bryson’s neck, then another just below her ear. “My turn.” Her voice was husky and full of promise.

  She shifted to lie on top of Bryson and resumed her kisses, down her neck, chest, and stomach. As she did, she cupped Bryson’s breasts, teasing the nipples to erection with strokes of her thumbs. Bryson’s pulse quickened and her breathing accelerated, loud in her ears. The pressure building at the juncture of her thighs was incredible. When Karla’s mouth closed over one sensitive nipple and sucked, she ground her pelvis upward and tightened her grip in Karla’s hair. “More.”

  Karla sucked harder and tweaked the sensitive nipple lightly between her teeth. Bryson groaned once, then again when Karla gave the other breast equal treatment.

  “I can tell how close you are,” Karla murmured as she moved lower. Bryson writhed beneath her, desperate for relief.

  “Yes,” she choked. “Ready beyond words.”

  She felt Karla’s smile against her lower abdomen and heard her sharp intake of breath. “I love how you smell,” Karla said, just before her mouth closed over Bryson’s sex.

  As Bryson went rigid in the first throes of orgasm, she clutched at the headboard to anchor herself. Teeth clenched, she rode the rush of release like a wave, building and building until the crest shattered her, sapping her strength.

  They lay for another long while wrapped in each other’s arms, exchanging sweet kisses and confiding specifics about their sexual fantasies and preferences. The provocative sharing led to several more hours of lovemaking: playful and flirty, then heated and raw, as they indulged each other in every way possible.

  For once, Bryson was grateful for the long nights of winter. First light would mark the end of their blissful privacy and the beginning of what she feared would be an unbearable separation.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  December 14

  “Feels like some sort of cosmic conspiracy is trying to keep us apart.” Bryson absently picked at the label of her bottle, her second Black Fang that evening. She’d barely touched her plate of smoked-salmon tacos.

  “We haven’t had a warm spell like this one since ’88,” Grizz said as he poured two drafts. “Got to forty in Fairbanks in the middle of December. Same reason then, too. Some weird high-pressure system over Seattle.”

  “Global warming, that’s what it is.” Skeeter scowled from the barstool beside her.

  Bryson continued as though she hadn’t heard. “Hated missing Thanksgiving with them.”

  November had been the mildest in two decades in Alaska, and December was shaping up the same. They got a few frigid days here and there, but just about the time the ice on the lakes and rivers was getting thick enough to support a plane, temps would rise above freezing and everything would soften up again.


  For the last month, she’d been stuck in Bettles and confined to airport runs, only able to contact the Rasmussen cabin through their satellite phone. Karla’s time in Alaska was ticking away, and Mother Nature seemed to be cheating Bryson out of a rare chance at happiness.

  “Keep your chin up.” Grizz laid a massive callused hand on top of Bryson’s across the bar. “Forecast this morning says we’ve got a long spell of cold comin’ in.”

  “Karla know how bad you’re pining away for her?” Skeeter teased with a grin.

  Bryson shrugged. “Pretty clear we’re crazy about each other. But not like I’ve really said anything much. What’s there to say? We both know this is only a brief thing. Talking about it’ll just make it tougher to say good-bye when she goes.”

  “Or talking about it might give her good reason to come back often,” Grizz said.

  “She’s already got that, with Maggie and Lars and the baby. I don’t think it’s a question of her not wanting to come back.” Bryson took a sip of her lukewarm beer. “She’s a nurse, so what does she get—two, three weeks vacation a year, tops? And it’s not cheap to get here from Atlanta, I’m sure. Realistically, I’ll probably be lucky if I get to see her a few days every couple of years.”

  “That’s a damn shame.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “What about you going down there to see her?” Grizz asked.

  “Been thinking about that. Hell of a long way by Cub, and can’t say as I’d relish trying to get anywhere near the air traffic at Hartsfield. But maybe I could do a trip or two a year. If she’d want me to, that is.”

  Geneva materialized beside her elbow with an empty tray. “White wine, a Lookout Stout, and a Jack Daniel’s, neat,” she relayed to Grizz before turning to Bryson. “Why wouldn’t Karla want you to visit? From the look on her face the morning you all left, it’s clear she likes you as much as you like her.” There was no malice or jealousy in the remark. In fact, Geneva had surprised Bryson by supporting her during the weeks since she’d taken the Rasmussens home.

  “She’ll meet someone else before long. As she should. She’s beautiful, bright, fun to be with. I’m sure she’ll have a lot of opportunities to hook up in Atlanta.” The seeming inevitability that Karla would move on depressed her. She conjured up a vision of Karla at a club, dancing close to some attractive stranger, and felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. No way would she be able to feign happiness at seeing her with someone else, as Geneva apparently could.

  “I think you’re underestimating yourself, Bry. All I’m sayin’.” Geneva set the drinks on her tray and returned to her customers.

  The phone rang behind the bar and Grizz wiped his hands on a towel to answer it. “The Den.” As he listened, a big smile spread across his face. “Same back atcha. Yeah, she’s right here.” He handed the phone to Bryson. “Her ears must’ve been burnin’.”

  “Karla?”

  “Hi, Bryson. I’m missing you something fierce.”

  Her glum mood lifted significantly. “Lot of that going around. How’s everybody doing?”

  “Great. Maggie’s incision’s almost healed and she’s able to do just about everything. BP’s good. Karson’s gained more weight and is starting to smile a lot. We’re all getting a bad case of cabin fever, though.”

  “I’m sure you’re not the only ones. The Den’s been pretty empty except for folks within walking distance.”

  “It seems so unfair not to be able to see you when I’ve only got a couple of weeks left.”

  Bryson’s heart fell. “I thought you were staying until after New Year’s.”

  “Yeah. That’s the bad news. I checked in at work, and my supervisor begged me to come back by the twenty-eighth to cover a maternity leave.” Karla’s voice was subdued. “And flights are cheaper then, too. So I’m booked to leave the day after Christmas.”

  That ticking clock got louder in Bryson’s head. “Sorry to hear that.” There was an awkward silence on the line. “On a happier note, a cold front is supposed to be headed our way.”

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed it gets here quick and hangs around a while,” Karla said.

  “No more than I will. See you as soon as I can get there.”

  *

  Karla hung up and turned to find Lars and Maggie watching her. They were curled up together on the couch, with Karson in her crib nearby snoozing off her last feeding.

  “Any news from town?” Lars asked.

  “Bryson says it’s supposed to get colder. Not much else.”

  “Don’t be discouraged,” Maggie said. “I bet she’ll be here before the week’s out.”

  Lars got to his feet and stretched. “I need some fresh air. Gonna cut some firewood.”

  Maggie gave him a quizzical look but said nothing as he grabbed his coat and headed outside. There was enough firewood already split to last them at least a couple of months, but everyone had their own ways to deal with cabin fever. In truth, his leaving them alone was a ruse. Now that Maggie and Karson were both safely out of the woods, Karla had asked for some alone time to finally tell Maggie the truth about their mother’s illness.

  She took the seat on the couch that Lars had vacated and let her gaze linger on the makeshift Christmas tree in the corner. It was the first one ever erected in the Rasmussen cabin. Lars and Maggie loved the holiday, but they didn’t believe in killing trees unnecessarily since the ones that grew here struggled so to survive the short growing season. So normally they went without one—instead stringing their lights and decorations on the windowpanes and ceiling. This year, however, because of Karla and Karson, they’d constructed a tree out of spruce boughs, wired to a frame that Lars had made. It was decorated with strung popcorn and cranberries, colored paper chains, and a variety of homemade ornaments.

  “I put up a Christmas tree for Mom last year,” she told Maggie. “Just a tabletop-sized, with a lot of little colored lights and some of her favorite ornaments. She’d pick one up whenever she traveled.” Karla had held each memento in front of her mother’s face, praying for a sign of recognition, without success.

  She met Maggie’s eyes, so much like their mother’s that her heart ached. “The tree was more for my benefit than hers. I doubt she had any idea what it was, but I couldn’t do much for her by then.”

  Maggie looked understandably confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I told you she had a heart attack—that’s what’s listed on the death certificate. But it wasn’t really what killed her. She had Alzheimer’s.”

  “Alzheimer’s?” Maggie’s eyes widened for a split second as she absorbed the news. “Oh, how awful. That must have been very difficult for you.”

  “It’s terrible to watch someone you love lose herself little by little. The first hint I had that something was wrong was when she began to lose sense of time. We’d be at a red light and she’d insist it must be broken because it wasn’t changing. Or she’d think a waitress had forgotten about us because our order didn’t come in two minutes. Within a year she was having problems sometimes finding the right word for something. That’s when I told her she needed to see a doctor. She resisted at first. I think she knew something wasn’t right, but she was afraid to face it. To be honest, so was I.”

  Maggie didn’t say anything, but she took her hand, and that small encouragement gave her courage to continue.

  “Another year or so went by. She was living by herself, and I was so caught up with my own life I didn’t see her enough to really get a handle on how bad she was getting. Then one day I got a call from a police department in Alabama. She’d gone out for groceries and somehow ended up three hundred miles away, knocking on a stranger’s door in a panic, asking how to get home. That’s when I forced her to seek help. She was diagnosed and started on Aricept to try to slow the progression of the disease. That’s also about when she wrote that letter to me about you. Good thing, because within another couple of years she was losing her ability to read and write
. Near the end, she barely spoke, and she couldn’t make sense of anything—people, places, things. It was all a mystery to her; she was like an infant again.” The image of her mother staring blankly at her, eyes devoid of any spark of recognition, haunted her.

  Maggie squeezed her hand. “I can’t imagine what you had to go through. I’m just sorry I wasn’t there to help you through it.”

  “And I’m sorry that I have to be the one to tell you this. I wish to hell I didn’t.” Her stomach was tied up in knots. “Because there’s a part of this you need to know. Something that will be very tough to deal with.”

  Maggie’s expression changed from sisterly concern to apprehension, and she stiffened. “What is it? Tell me.”

  Karla took a deep breath. “The doctors were fairly certain, since she began exhibiting symptoms so young, that she had a rare form of Alzheimer’s. It’s called eFAD—early onset, Familial Alzheimer’s Disease.”

  Maggie gasped. “Familial?”

  “Yes. Scientists still aren’t sure what causes Alzheimer’s. They suspect genetics plays a role, but there’s no proof of that, except with the familial type. It’s the only kind that’s been conclusively linked to a particular gene called a deterministic gene that’s definitely hereditary. It affects multiple family members across generations. In other words, if a parent has it, then their children have a fifty-fifty chance of getting it, too.”

  Maggie’s face went ashen. “Oh, my God. You mean…” Her gaze went immediately to the crib.

  “Yes. You may have it. And so may Karson. I’m so sorry.” Karla was accustomed to imparting such a grave prognosis to patients, but she had never hated the task more than at this moment.

  Maggie’s eyes filled with tears as she reached for the baby and held her close. She said nothing for a very long while. “There’s…there’s no chance this could be a mistake?”