by Oliver, Tess
12
Brisk was a poetic word for the air, which with help from the wind, felt as if it could cut through skin and bone. I pulled the blue scarf Coco had left me up around my nose and mouth. I pulled the beanie down low over my brow and squinted to keep my eyeballs from freezing.
My boots clomped along the path that led through the gardens. I glanced back at the inn to see if Holt was anywhere in sight, but his snowmobile wasn't parked out front. I was like a school girl waiting for my crush to come out of study hall or make his appearance in the lunch room. My heart beat faster just thinking about seeing him in all his tall, hunky grandness. If Holt had been in the same school as me, I don't know if I would have graduated with honors . . . or graduated at all. His presence would sure have made it hard to concentrate.
As my gaze swept back around, a flash of pink caught my eye. It was the roses. It was late winter, a time when roses weren't normally blooming, but these seemed to be flourishing. And weirdest of all, they were bursting from vines that had looked dead just the day before. It was possible I'd missed the long strands of blooming pink roses in my disheveled state after the accident, but I just couldn't imagine how. I had no choice except to catalog it in the list of unexplained events at the Silk Stocking Inn.
I turned back toward the path and dropped my face down before heading off on my hike. Knowing what a wimp I was about the cold, I was sure my hike would be brief. I hadn't gone more than twenty steps from the inn and I was already thinking about the hot tomato soup and cheddar biscuits Coco had mentioned on my way out the door.
The hiking boots crunched over the icy path. There was enough fresh powder to cause little white puffs as I tromped along the path through the garden. On one side, Coco had an impressive vegetable garden complete with brightly painted markers pointing out the types of vegetables. Only right now, at the tail of a long winter, there was nothing except the markers and a few remaining squash vines, mostly blackened by frost. Considering all the magical things that seemed to happen at the inn, I was almost surprised that there weren't tomatoes, carrots and beans growing up through the frozen ground. On the opposite side, rose bushes had been trimmed down to thorny stumps waiting to bud at the first signs of spring. Just what I'd expect a rose bush to look like at this time of year. The ones on the porch must have been a rare, cold weather variety. It was the only explanation I could come up with, so I was sticking to it.
I expected it to get even colder once I reached the shadows of the tall pines, but, surprisingly, the towering evergreens lent a shelter from the choppy breeze shooting across the landscape. Occasionally, I came across tiny paw prints. I stopped each time to try and guess who the prints belonged to. Squirrels were my default choice when I couldn't figure it out. Birds were of course easier to guess than other animals. But for the most part, the previous night's newly fallen snow was left undisturbed, as pristine, white and glittery as a newly sewn bridal gown.
I continued on the path, which because it had been well maintained by someone, possibly the forest department, possibly even a very hot forest ranger, it was easy to navigate. Veering off the trail in either direction would have been like wandering onto another planet, a planet that was just snow and trees as far as the eyes could see, with no markers or signs of civilization in between. It was easy to see why Coco had warned me not to leave the trail. I decided to follow her advice to the letter.
The walk had helped me warm up enough that I could finally relax my shoulders and pull the scarf from my face. The snowy landscape made me think about Tanya and all my work buddies. I wondered if they were all having fun, and I wondered who would be showing up to work on Monday with a twisted ankle or sprained wrist. The one thing that hadn't crossed my mind once until now was what Stan might be up to. I didn't really care. If nothing else, Holt had made me realize that Stan just wasn't all that much of a prime catch. He was lacking in many ways and that realization gave me a nice dose of satisfaction.
Five hundred feet ahead, a large granite boulder sat between two trees. I decided that would be a good point to turn around. I hadn't gone far, but the cold was making my fingers numb, and those same fingers were itching to wrap around a spoon headed for homemade tomato soup.
Two rows of tiny tracks brought me to a halt. I leaned down to get a better look at them. As I studied the prints, from the corner of my eye, I saw something move. I lifted my face and stumbled back. It was Gretel, the mama bear, and this time her two little ones had tagged along with her. My heart was pounding so loud, I was sure she'd hear it. I still had the advantage because as far as I knew she hadn't yet seen me. But my very thorough third grade teacher, Ms. Bell, had taught us that the bear's sense of smell was so powerful, it could smell food miles away. I was sure a fearful human was even easier to smell. The mama bear seemed to be heading along the trail, hoping it would lead her to something edible. Holy shit. Something edible. Like me.
I took off across the snow, not sure which way to head except away from the path. Coco had said not to leave it but then she hadn't mentioned what to do if a hungry mama bear was using that same trail.
My breath was coming in short spurts, and my face felt numb from the cold. The pulse in my ears was from both the chill and from fear. Combined, it was making my head hurt as if I'd just sucked down a chocolate shake in one gulp.
I plodded along for a long time without looking back. In fact, stupidly, I wasn't looking anywhere except down at the snow, which seemed to get deeper with each step. When my next step took me knee deep in snow, I finally stopped to look back at the trail.
The good news was that I could no longer see the bear. The bad news was that the trail had disappeared as well. I leaned side to side to look past the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of the inn or the road leading up to it, but the only thing I could see was snow and trees. The landscape that had been so beautiful just minutes ago was now the stuff of nightmares, a vast, desolate and truly inhospitable place. I never made it past the toasting marshmallow badge in my scout troop, but I knew enough about survival to know that I wouldn't last long in the frozen forest.
I heard a sound in the distance, and even though I was surrounded by critters, I immediately convinced myself it was Gretel. I wasn't ready to kiss my ass good-bye yet. I took two steps back and smacked right into a tree. Seconds later, a pile of hard snow dropped on my head from an overhead branch.
Tears stung my eyes from the pain and the possibility that I was hopelessly lost. I decided to try and head back over my footprints. I retraced my steps for as long as I could but somehow lost track of them and found myself making a new set of tracks. I walked on in the direction that I thought would take me to the inn and kept my ears open for any sounds of civilization.
As I trudged ahead, it seemed even less sunlight was reaching the forest floor, but the trees had not grown thicker. I held my beanie, which was now wet from the plop of snow and squinted up through the branches. The azure blue sky from earlier in the day had turned a gloomy gray. It seemed, to add to my predicament, that snow would soon fall. I was screwed.
I hiked through snow that only seemed to get deeper with each step. My hiking boots were no longer helping to keep my feet dry, and numbing dampness was creeping up beneath my snow pants. I'd taken every precaution to dress for the weather, but none of it was going to matter if I was lost. Even my winter gear had its limits.
The snow fell faster and any possible discerning marks in the landscape were slowly being erased. Including my own footsteps. Not that they were helping much except to assure me of the terrifying conclusion that I was walking in circles.
I huddled deep in my coat and brought the scarf up high enough to cover my face right up to my eyes. None of it seemed to keep out the cold or the wet.
In my panic, I tried hard to remember if I'd ever read about what to do in a situation like this, but all I could come up with were those crazy, one in a million stories where a couple survived a week in their car by eating the leftover crumbs from
a box of crackers or the ones where people walked forty miles to the road and later lost all their toes to frostbite. How the hell do you wear shoes without toes? Sandals would be out and I loved sandals . . . and toe rings . . . and even pedicures.
I shook the silly thoughts from my head. It was obvious the cold was starting to make me giddy and delirious. It was also making my limbs feel as if they were filled with cement. My legs dragged through the snow as if I was carrying weights on my ankles. Somewhere in the sensational survival stories, I'd read that the one thing you shouldn't do was fall asleep.
A brisk wind kicked up, adding to my misery. I couldn't walk another step. I headed for the biggest tree I could find and hid on the side that avoided the cold bursts of air. Snow fell all around me. I might have considered it beautiful if I wasn't so damn terrified.
I leaned against the rough bark of the tree to keep myself standing upright. I needed a plan. My eyes ached with tears when I realized I didn't have one. I huddled against my only friend, a massive pine tree, and tried to keep myself from falling asleep or, even more likely, falling completely apart.
My head grew heavy and clouded, and it seemed even my thoughts and reasoning were slowing with the cold. A rumbling sound caught my attention, but I was too frozen to react to it. It was Gretel, I told myself. She was coming to eat me. Strangely enough, I felt some gratification that I would at least provide some food for the poor hungry bear and her cubs.
The noise grew louder as I hugged myself to stop the trembling. I looked up through the filmy air around me and saw a giant figure walking toward me. Did bears always walk on two legs? Even my third grade science was leaving my frozen memory.
"Jen," the deep voice came through the haze. I didn't need to remember elementary school science to know that bears did not talk. But giant, hunky forest rangers definitely did. And I'd already committed the sound of his voice to memory.
A sob left my mouth, but I didn't have energy for anything else. My eyes drifted shut in my sleepy head as I was pulled away from the trunk of the tree and swept up into a pair of strong arms. His strong arms.
I worked up enough energy to peer up at him. Seeing the worry in his face sent a swirl of warmth around my heart. "I'm glad you came." Each word took effort. "I really like to wear sandals." I rested my head against his chest and could hear his heart pounding beneath the layers of clothes.
"I need to get you warm fast. The trip to the inn is too far."
I was feeling warmer just being in his arms but that might just have been the dreamy cloud I was slipping into.
"A friend has a cabin just a half mile from here." He carried me to his snowmobile. "Do you think you can hang on for a quick ride?"
"If it's you I'm hanging onto, then I'm sure of it."
His brief smile gave me hope that everything was going to be all right.
13
I'd clung to Holt as if my life depended on it. Which was pretty much the case. The landscape passed by in a blur of white and green. We climbed a small hill and turned down another one. I hid my face from the cold as he plowed through the powder toward a small, crudely built cabin sitting seemingly in the middle of nowhere. With thoughts of Gretel still lingering in my muddled head, I half expected to see the tiny house covered in candy and treats.
Holt pulled up in front of the house and turned off the motor.
"By any chance, is your friend a witch who likes to eat little children?" Everything coming out of my mouth sounded silly and slurred. "Does the cold make you feel intoxicated? I'm feeling like I had one too many tequila shots."
I climbed off the snowmobile. Holt hopped off quickly to catch me before my legs collapsed.
"Got ya, my sweet frozen treat. Yes, hypothermia makes you feel a little punch drunk, and no, my friend is not a witch who eats children. He's a nature photographer who comes up here occasionally to take pictures of animals and seasonal changes. Now let's get you inside."
Holt lifted a potted plant and dug through some slushy snow. "Got it." He held up a key and turned to the door. With some effort, it opened, and Holt helped me inside. The interior of the cabin was surprisingly cozy but icy cold.
I turned to him and the movement made my head spin. "I hate to tell you this, but it's just as cold in here as it is out there."
"Yep. But I can have a fire roaring in that hearth in minutes, and while we wait, I'll just have to find another way to keep you warm."
"Looking forward to it," I mumbled on my way to the small sofa sitting in front of the hearth. It was covered with a red and green crocheted throw. With my legs feeling as if I'd just finished a hundred mile uphill bike ride, it looked terribly inviting. I flopped down on it like a rag doll and immediately turned on my side and curled into a fetal position.
My heart was no longer thumping with the fear that I might freeze to death alone in the forest, but none of my limbs were cooperating yet. It seemed it was going to take more than the presence of an incredibly hot man to get me back to normal.
Holt lumbered back into the house with an armful of wood and kindling. He pulled off his coat and tossed it onto the floor. Then he dropped down to one knee, pulled open the metal screen and dropped the wood into the hearth one log at a time.
I hugged myself and grew mesmerized by the movement of his arms and back muscles beneath his sweater. "Have I mentioned that you look just like a video game character I'm working on for Hell's Rangers? His name is Ziggy Holt."
His face shot toward me. "I think maybe you're just a little out of it still."
"All right. You don't have to believe me. But it's true." I covered my mouth as a loud, stretched yawn bellowed from it. "I'm so sleepy."
"Yeah, that's one of the effects of hypothermia. I think I got to you just in time though." The wood and new flames crackled and popped as the fire worked its way through the wood. Holt straightened and stared down at me. "We should have some decent heat soon enough. I was going to curl myself around you, but I don't think this sofa is big enough for me."
"Oh, but I'm really waiting to have you curled around me. I could move this throw to the floor."
He snapped his fingers. "Good idea." He strode off to the small room in the opposite corner and emerged with an armful of blankets and pillows. He arranged a nice floor bed directly in front of the fireplace.
My head hurt some as I pushed up to sitting. I stared up at Holt, feeling confused and helpless. "I'm thinking about taking off this big, puffy coat because it's kind of wet, but the idea of moving my arms that much just seems too hard." I looked down at the boots that had kept my feet warm well enough on the path but had quickly become squishy wet snow receptacles once I'd veered away from the trail. "I think my boots will be too much work too. They might just be permanently frozen to my feet. So I guess the whole sandal worry is a moot point because I'm going to be stuck in these clodhoppers forever."
While I blathered on, Holt walked over to the couch and unzipped my coat. I smiled up at him as he pushed it off my shoulders and down my arms. "You've got very long eyelashes," I noted as he leaned over to take off my boots. "He has them too."
"Who is that?'
"Ziggy Holt, my video game fantasy man."
His face popped up. It seemed he was having a hard time keeping away a smile.
"Oops. That was supposed to stay inside my head. My gosh, this really is like being drunk."
"Then you make an adorable drunk, snow angel." He lifted me into his arms. "Let's see if we can defrost those toes and fingers. And anything else that needs warming up."
Holt lowered me onto the soft mound of blankets and pillows. The flames were growing tall and red. Slowly, a delicious heat began to flow from the hearth.
The sleepiness that had consumed me still lingered in my limbs, and my head was heavy with the events of the day. The second Holt stretched out next to me, I scooted into his warmth. He wrapped his arms around me.
"How did you find me?" Some of my more logical thoughts were returning. It see
med miraculous that instead of being frozen like an icicle to a tree, I was cuddled next to Holt in front of a roaring fire.
“When I pulled up to the inn, Coco came running down the steps, looking worried. A rarity for her. She said she'd sent you on a walk but that you'd been gone too long. I'm skilled at tracking, but the snow had obliterated some of your footsteps. I found exactly where you went off the trail and then sort of just followed my instincts. I know it's strange, but I felt this connection with you, as if I could sense you were in trouble, and I just rode until I found you huddled against that tree. Why did you leave the path?"
"Gretel was out for a walk with the cubs. And I just wasn't ready to kiss my ass good-bye. Although, in my daze, I did conclude that providing food for a hungry bear family would have been a noble way to go. Painful, I imagine. But noble."
He laughed and squeezed me tighter. "So you were a few degrees body temperature away from freezing to death and you reasoned out that you'd at least save the lives of three bears. I guess I'd probably be thinking the same thing. Still, I'll have to let Mike, the other ranger, know that Gretel is making the rounds with the cubs. We weren't expecting her this early."
I sighed with satisfaction as the glowing heat from the fire and the even more glowing heat from the man slowly thawed out my limbs. I actually felt my body relaxing for the first time since I'd gotten lost. Moments later, in the secure warmth of Holt's embrace, I fell asleep.
14
"Hey, sleepy, how are you feeling?" The voice penetrated my dreams that had something to do with sugarplums that were shaped like bears.
I opened my eyes. The only light in the cabin came from the flickering flames in the hearth. Outside the dust covered windows, the sun was beginning its descent. Everything was bathed in the shadows of late afternoon, including the man next to me, who still looked breathtaking even in the fading light.
