Snowbound in Montana

by C. J. Carmichael

  The fever continued all weekend long. By Monday, it was clear this was more than a flu and she finally took him to Emergency. She’d been avoiding the trip because she didn’t have health insurance, yet. In another month, she would have been past the qualifying wait period, but at that time, no, she hadn’t been covered.

  That was when they discovered Dean had meningitis. And it was too late. He couldn’t be helped.

  His mom had a bit of a breakdown, then, Marshall said. He was sent to live with an aunt, because his father was still in South America. Oh, his dad came home for the funeral, but he’d gone back right after.

  Eliza looked at her watch. Almost nine. She’d slept in, but what did it matter? They wouldn’t be skiing today. Still, she ought to get up and make her way to the kitchen. Betsy could probably use a little more help.

  Not wanting to waste hot water with the shower she craved, she dressed quickly, in layers, adding a fleece jacket at the end, and an extra pair of socks.

  After his brother’s death, Marshall had been shunted around. His mom remarried and he lived a few years with her and his new step-father. But soon after his sisters were born, he’d left.

  “I could tell that whenever Mom saw me, she was reminded of Dean. I made her sad just being around.”

  Eliza felt her own eyes well up when she thought about that part. She thought the story of Marshall’s past explained a lot about the way he was now. Why he was so quiet, and tended to hang in the background, never calling attention to himself.

  Now, more than ever, the tragedy of his skiing accident got to her. If not for that, he might have found a new confidence in himself. Instead, he’d had to struggle just to survive.

  “There were some doctors who didn’t think I’d even walk again,” he’d told her.

  Eliza brushed her hair, then tied it back in a ponytail. She couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he’d told her last night. She wondered if he was likewise thinking of all she’d told him.

  The idea made her cringe. She’d never confessed, to anyone else, the depth of her feelings for John. She was aware that she came off looking like a fool. After what he’d done to her, she ought to hate him.

  In fact, she did.

  And yet, she loved him, too. How could she ever find another man who could compare to John? Half the women in America were in love with him, it wasn’t just her.

  Lucky thing the Internet was down. It kept her from trying to get in touch with him. Or from trying to reach her sister to find out what had happened when John found out she’d left town.

  Had he been disappointed?

  Was he, right this minute, trying to find her? The idea was romantic and exciting, but even if he was, there was no way he could be successful. She’d been smart enough to make sure she couldn’t be traced. No one, not her sister or her aunt, knew where she was this Christmas.

  Eliza brushed her teeth next, and then washed her face and hands, all using only cold water. After making her bed, she hurried down the stairs and into the dining hall.

  It was mayhem this morning. Kevin was running laps around the tables, yelling, “It’s Christmas Eve, it’s Christmas Eve! Santa is coming tomorrow!”

  His parents sat at the table, looking frazzled, while his sister put her hands on her hips and yelled. “Kevin, stop it!”

  The Bracketts were lined up at the food table, where Buck was grumbling about something to Marshall. Poor Marshall looked absolutely miserable. Tired, too, as if he hadn’t slept all night.

  Judging from their body language, Sydney and Ryan were having a full-fledged, if whispered, argument at their table at the far end of the room, and even the placid Arbuckle couple looked a little out of sorts.

  Abruptly, Kevin stopped his chanting and running. Probably because he was exhausted. In the sudden silence, Buck Brackett’s voice travelled loud and clear. “We paid good money for this holiday. And you’re telling me I have to settle for a cold breakfast this morning?”

  Oh dear, Eliza thought. This was not sounding good. And she had a feeling it was about to get a whole lot worse.

  *

  He did not get paid enough money for this, Marshall reflected wearily. “If I could change the weather, I would, Buck. A week ago, this storm wasn’t even on the radar. Four days ago, they were predicting a moderate snowfall. No one could have guessed we were getting a major blizzard.”

  “I get that. And I’m trying to be reasonable. I just don’t see why a little snow has means we can’t have eggs and bacon for breakfast.”

  It seemed to Marshall, Betsy had put out a good spread, all considered. There were freshly baked apple cinnamon muffins and smoked salmon, lox and bagels, in addition to the usual boxed cereals, toast, and cooked oatmeal. “This isn’t a restaurant, Buck. Even at the best of times, you have to be prepared to take what’s being offered.”

  He’d been hoping to wait until breakfast was over to make his latest announcement. But he might as well get it over with now. His gaze automatically went to Eliza who’d only shown up a few minutes ago, walking into the dining hall during the middle of his conversation with Buck.

  She looked lovely. A woman like her didn’t need a sleek hair style or make-up to shine. Her skin glowed with health and her golden-colored hair truly made her look like an angel.

  Though after their conversation last night, he certainly understood she wasn’t one.

  Far from it.

  She’d been uncompromisingly open with him, admitting to weaknesses and flaws that she hid from most of the world.

  And yet, somehow, all of that had only made him admire her more. So maybe she was guilty of bad taste in men. At least she’d had the good sense to avoid temptation she knew she couldn’t resist. Though it hadn’t been easy, to have her sitting right next to him and confessing her love for another guy.

  The sort of guy a regular man could never complete with.

  Marshall sighed. He had to stop mooning over her. The safety of everyone in this building was his primary concern right now. Not that anyone’s life was truly at stake. What he was about to say had more to do with comfort than anything else.

  “Good morning everyone. I hope you’re enjoying Betsy’s home-made muffins and the freshly brewed coffee. As you can see, it’s still snowing out there.”

  There was a collective moan, and he waited for it to subside. “On top of the snow, the temperature took a dive last night. This morning it’s around forty below with wind chill and I don’t expect it’s going to get much warmer for the next twenty-four hours or so. I recommend you don’t go outside unless you’re bundled up, and even then, don’t stay out for too long.”

  A few unhappy mumbles rose up at this, and Marshall waited before continuing with the bad news.

  “This weather is doing more than curtailing our outdoor activities, I’m afraid. This is the second day we’ve been snowbound and it’s looking doubtful that the roads are going to be cleared before Christmas. That’s going to cause some big problems.”

  “What sort of problems?” Ted Arbuckle wanted to know.

  “Well, we still have the labor shortage, obviously. That means, no maid service in the rooms, no help for Betsy in the kitchen, and no laundry. If you can see a way to chip in and help, that would be much appreciated.”

  He didn’t wait for the complaints to flood in, just carried on talking. “We’ve also got an issue with supplies. Fresh produce, plus cheese for the fondue we were scheduled to have this evening, and the Christmas turkey, were all supposed to be delivered yesterday. That didn’t happen.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Bonnie Brackett looked incredulous.

  “No turkey for Christmas dinner?”

  More collective muttering followed this. Marshall held out his palm. “Betsy’s working to come up with an alternate menu. Knowing her, you can be sure she’ll come up with something delicious.”

  “I’m sure she will,” Eliza said.

  He sent her a smile, appreciating her effort to injec
t a little positivity into the debriefing. It was a good try, but didn’t do much to lift the mood in the room.

  And so he continued, “Another problem we’re facing is the availability of hot water and heat. Both are fueled by propane, which is usually delivered weekly by truck.”

  “Don’t tell me,” Buck said with a groan. “The truck couldn’t get through this week.”

  “That’s correct. We have a generator that will provide us with basic lighting and power for cooking food. But from now on I’m going to have to ask everyone to forgo hot showers or baths and use your fireplaces to heat your rooms.”

  “Are you serious?” Bonnie Brackett asked, incredulously. “Didn’t you just say it’s forty below out there? We’ll freeze to death!”

  “No one’s going to freeze. One thing we have plenty of is firewood. Griff and I will make sure the stove in the dining room, and the fireplace in the sitting room, keep blasting out heat.”

  “I suppose this means it’s too cold to sky. But what are we supposed to do with ourselves?” Jason Kelly wanted to know.

  “There are plenty of books and board games. I’m afraid that’s the best we can do for now.”

  “Aren’t any of the ski trails open?”

  Marshall sighed. Was the man for real? “There’s been too much snow for Griff to keep the trails clear. Plus, there’s a risk of avalanche along the trail that borders Mount Baker. For your own safety, we’d like you to stick to the three-mile loop around the lodge today.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Jason looked disgusted.

  “It’s for your safety,” Marshall reminded him. “And remember, you can always try out the toboggan hill or the ice pond. Both of those are safe to use.”

  The room went silent then. Marshall could see that his words were finally sinking in, along with the cold reality of their situation. It was Bonnie Brackett who was the first to break the silence.

  “Some Christmas.”

  He hesitated, then plunged in. “I’m afraid it gets worse.”

  The room grew so silent, he could hear the crackling of the wood burning in the cast iron stove. “Unless the snow stops soon, Santa won’t be able to deliver the gifts as planned on Christmas morning.”

  “What? No Santa?” Kevin sounded heart-broken. “But, his reindeer can fly though anything, right Dad?”

  “Usually, son. But this is a really bad storm.” Alec Ritchie shot Marshall a withering look. “We’ll just have to hope and pray it stops real soon.”

  “That we will,” Marshall agreed. “I’m real sorry for the bad news folks. Later, we can talk about discounts to your fees. I’m sure we’ll come up with something fair to compensate you for the adjustments to the package. But for now let’s just concentrate on making this the best Christmas possible, under the circumstances.”

  *

  “I’m glad I’m not in your shoes today.” Eliza felt compelled to seek out Marshall after he’d finished delivering his bad news speech. “I’m afraid most of the people here are casting you in the role of the Grinch Who Stole Christmas.”

  “Yeah. I can’t blame them. I’ve been doing this Holiday tour for eight years and this is the first time it’s gone sideways.”

  “The weather isn’t your fault. You, Griff and Betsy have handled things very well. I wish the others would see this more like an adventure than a disappointment. We’ve all had the usual Christmas with gifts and a turkey dinner. But how many people get to spend Christmas snowbound in a beautiful Montana lodge?”

  He smiled, and for the first time she noticed he had a dimple in one cheek. And the eyes she’d thought of as brown, had a ring of green around the pupils.

  “I like your attitude, Eliza Bramble. I wish it was shared by more of the group.”

  “Well, you’ve got me, at least. And if I was you, I’d take advantage of that fact.”

  “Oh?”

  Realizing her statement could be taken the wrong way, she felt a flash of embarrassment. “I only meant that I’m willing to chip in and help. I’m sure Betsy would appreciate a hand with the breakfast dishes.”

  When they found Betsy melting snow water on the wood-burning stove to wash dishes, the reality of their situation really came home to Eliza. No more dishwasher. From now on all the cleanup would be by hand. They shooed her out so she could catch her breath before she had to start working on lunch, and between them they washed and dried the dishes, cleaned the counters and swept the floors.

  “I don’t know how she’s managing,” Eliza said. “At Bramble House all I have to do prepare is breakfast and afternoon tea. I can’t imagine cooking all the daily meals for a group our size.”

  “While I can’t even cook for one,” Marshall admitted.

  “Then what do you eat?”

  “My friends felt sorry for me a few years ago and bought me a panini maker. I eat a lot of sandwiches now. I’m told that’s healthier than subsisting on pizza and macaroni from a box. But I eat a lot of those things, too.”

  “How old are you again?”

  He laughed. “Don’t judge me until you taste one of my chicken, brie, and spinach paninis.”

  And what were the chances, Eliza wondered, that she would ever do that? She realized she hoped they were good. “I’d like that. I’ve been living in Marietta for over two years and I still haven’t made any friends.”

  “How is that possible? Marietta is such a friendly town.”

  “Oh, I have a lot of acquaintances. But not the sort of friends who would, say, chip in to buy me a panini maker because they were worried I was eating myself into bypass surgery.”

  “You could have those sorts of friends if you wanted.”

  “I’d like that. Especially if I could count you as one of them.”

  He stopped washing dishes for a moment. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking as he looked at her. But his answer was straight forward enough.

  “Absolutely.”

  When the dishes were done, Betsy returned to the kitchen to mix up a huge pot of hot cocoa. “See if you can interest the kids in toasting marshmallows.” She handed them a bag full of the fluffy, white cubes, as well as four roasting sticks.

  “Ready to brave the restless natives?” Eliza teased Marshall.

  “If the prospect of hot cocoa with toasted marshmallows doesn’t cheer them up, nothing will.”

  They found everyone gathered in the sitting room. In the four chairs next to the fireplace—two on each side—were the Arbuckles and the Kellys, all of whom were reading. Buck and Bonnie Brackett and Tina and Alec Ritchie, were sprawled on the large sectional sofa facing the fire. On the oak table in the middle, Kevin was building something out of a pile of Lego blocks.

  The teenaged girls were in the adjacent dining hall, playing a card game in the corner closest to the cast iron stove.

  It was, for the moment, a relatively peaceful scene. One Eliza was hesitant to disrupt. Still, hot cocoa could be nothing but welcome, surely, on a morning like this one. “We’re going to roast some marshmallows for the hot cocoa,” she said. “Anyone want to help?”

  “I do!” Kevin jumped up so quickly, he knocked down the tower he’d been building. He hardly seemed to notice, as he reached for one of the roasting sticks.

  “We will, too,” said Anna, who brought along with her the Brackett twins.

  Marshall handed out the rest of the sticks, then opened the bag of marshmallows. “I assume you’ve all done this before?”

  “Of course,” Anna replied, sounding very savoir faire. “You have to avoid the flames if you want the marshmallow to melt in the inside and turn a nice golden brown on the outside.”

  “I like mine black,” Kevin replied cheerfully, thrusting his marshmallow into the middle of the dancing orange flames.

  “Brothers.” Anna rolled her eyes.

  A minute later, Betsy wheeled out a cart containing an urn of hot chocolate and stacks of ceramic mugs, as well as a basket of cookies.

  “I found the cookies in the
pantry,” she whispered to Eliza. “Not fresh baked, I’m afraid. I hope no one complains.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be delicious,” Eliza tried to reassure her, but already Bonnie Brackett had taken a bite and had wrinkled her nose with displeasure.

  Eliza felt sorry for Kevin when both his parents declined his charred nuggets in favor of his older sister’s perfectly roasted marshmallows. For a moment he looked downcast, but then he plugged the burned treat into his mouth and went to repeat the process.

  When the girls had finished preparing their marshmallow-topped cocoas and returned to their card game, Marshall used one of the roasting sticks to perfectly brown marshmallows for the tops of their cocoa.

  “Want to try out the window seat?” he asked. “Or will it be too cold?”

  The biggest window in the room faced south to beautiful Mount Baker. It had been built with a wide ledge, about eight feet long, upholstered in a soft, forest-green colored fabric. Plush cushions in coordinating fabrics had been placed at either end of the ledge.

  “I dressed warmly this morning. I’ll be fine.”

  She and Marshall sat at either end, resting back on the cushions, their feet meeting in the middle so their toes were practically touching. Marshall handed her a wool blanket to drape over her legs, and that made her feel really cozy.

  “This is so nice.” She drank in the rich, creamy cocoa and the frosty mountain view at the same time. From sight alone, she could tell it was much colder today. Instead of coming down in pretty, fluffy flakes, the snow had changed to icy, little pellets. Driven by the wind, they came at the window from an angle. She could feel their icy breath seeping in from the walls and drew the blanket in closer.

  “Is it my imagination, or is the snow coming down a bit slower now?”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  But she could tell from his tone, he didn’t believe it for a second.

  “Tell me more about your mother,” she segued, while making a mental note to ask Betsy for her cocoa recipe. It tasted like melted dark chocolate, almost as good as the stuff Sage made.