She was still shivering when he entered the room a minute later, accompanied by Betsy and Eliza. Betsy handed over the hot water bottles, wrapped in terry cloth so they wouldn’t burn Sydney’s skin, while Eliza set a tray containing hot soup, sandwiches and a thermos of tea on the bedside table.
“How are you feeling, Sydney?” Marshall asked. She was pale, but there was no bluish-tinge to her skin.
“C-cold,” she responded.
“Do you remember what day it is?”
Confusion was a sign of more advanced hypothermia, so he was relieved when she replied, “C-christmas Eve.”
“Good. Do you mind if I take a look at that ankle?”
“G-go ahead.”
Her foot felt icy cold, and though she winced when he touched it, she didn’t cry out with pain, which he took as another hopeful sign. Probably because of the cold, there wasn’t much swelling, yet. “We’ll take another look later, once you’ve warmed up, but right now I’d say it’s just a sprain and not a break.”
“Thank God.” Jason was sitting on the bed next to his wife, one hand on the top of her head, the other tucked under the comforter holding her hand.
“You might want to crawl into bed with your wife,” Marshall suggested. “You’ll both warm up a lot faster that way.”
Jason nodded. “I will. But first let me thank you—all of you—for everything.”
Marshall hesitated. Now wasn’t the time to ask why the hell they’d left the trail. So he just nodded, then waited for Betsy and Eliza to leave the room before he followed.
“What a pair of fools,” Betsy said, once the door was closed behind them.
“Did they say why they left the trail?” Eliza asked.
“Not yet.” He sighed, suddenly exhausted. And ravenous. He was grateful when Betsy ushered them to the kitchen, where he, Griff and Eliza enjoyed some of the hot veggie soup and ham and cheese sandwiches Betsy had prepared earlier. When the food was gone, he invited Eliza to sit with him by the cast iron stove in the dining room, and was glad when she said yes.
He’d been anxious to have a moment alone with her, and finally he did.
Only to find himself tongue-tied. Damn, but she was pretty. Her red sweater set off her luminous skin and warm, caramel eyes, while her hair was an enticing mess of soft, golden curls, framing her heart-shaped face.
Why would any man lucky enough to win her heart, ever want anyone else?
It wasn’t just her beauty that got to him. The way she’d pitched-in to help, her clear-thinking and practical problem solving, made it obvious she was much more than a pretty face.
“I don’t know what I would have done without you today,” he said honestly.
“It would have taken longer. But you would have managed to bring the Kellys home safely on your own if you had to.”
“I’m glad I didn’t. Thank you.” He longed to touch her. To feel the softness of her hair, the silkiness of her cheek. Instead, he looked out the window, searching for signs that the weather might be improving. He saw none. “I’m not sure how much longer I can handle being trapped in this lodge with these people.”
“I know what you mean.” She told him about asking for help with the firewood, and how only Kevin volunteered.
“He’s a good kid. I wish I could do something to help him. His parents and sister treat him like a pest most of the time.”
“You’ve been great with him.” Eliza reminded him of the times he’d taken Kevin outside to skate, ski and toboggan.
Marshall shrugged off the praise. What Kevin needed was to be appreciated by his own family. To be understood and loved for who he was. He wished there was some way he could make that happen for the kid. “I’m starting to believe the people in this group are getting the Christmas they deserve. Present company excluded, of course.”
“I agree. Too bad we have to suffer with them.” Eliza went to the window, pressing her nose against the pane and leaving a wet spot in the light layer of frost. “If only the snow would stop.”
He watched her for several minutes as she stood there, a faraway look in her eyes. Was she thinking of John Urban? Even if she wasn’t, he knew he didn’t have a chance with her. Last night she’d offered friendship, at least, which was something, he supposed.
At least he’d see her again when they got back to Marietta.
Assuming that ever happened.
He was beginning to suspect he was going to spend the rest of his life in this lodge. If that meant being with Eliza, he wouldn’t mind.
*
Just before dinner, Jason Kelly came into the dining room. “Have you seen Marshall?”
Eliza marked the page in her book, before lifting her head. “He’s gone outside to help Griff clear snow.”
Radiating nervous energy, Jason brushed a hand through his brown mop of hair. “I need to talk to him. Thank him. I never would have gotten Sydney out of that tree well without him.”
Eliza still hadn’t heard the details of the rescue. But she’d wait to ask Marshall for that. “How’s Sydney?”
“Better. She had something to eat and now she’s sleeping.” He went to the window, and gazed out hopefully. “Is the snow easing up a little?”
Eliza checked before saying, “Maybe.”
“I feel so lousy about all the trouble we caused today.”
Eliza held back the automatic impulse to say “that’s okay.” Because it really wasn’t. “Why did you guys leave the trail?”
“I didn’t. It was Sydney…. I couldn’t let her wander off on her own, so I followed. I have no idea what she was thinking, we haven’t talked about it yet.” He shrugged.
“Why would she do something like that, after Marshall warned us it wasn’t safe?”
“Normally she wouldn’t. She hasn’t been herself for a while now. I was hoping this trip would help smooth things over for us. But it’s done the exact opposite.”
“I have noticed the two of you arguing a few times,” Eliza said gently, hoping she wasn’t overstepping.
But Jason seemed like he’d been waiting for an opening to unload. He sat in the chair Marshall had used earlier. “Yes. Always about silly things. I don’t get it. She was never like this before.”
“Can you pinpoint when she began to change?”
“That’s easy. We’ve been trying to have a baby for years. Spent a lot of money and Syd has suffered through two miscarriages. The last one was on November twenty-third. That was when she decided she’d had enough.”
“I’m sorry.”
“My wife has been through so much. And while I did want to have kids, I totally support her decision to stop trying. What I don’t understand is her anger. It’s not like any of this is my fault.”
“Maybe she’s angry because she thinks it’s her fault.”
“That doesn’t make sense, either.”
“If you’re expecting logic to explain your wife’s unhappiness, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.”
“I don’t need an explanation. I just want to fix this somehow. Go back to the way we were when we first got married, before all this pressure to get pregnant.”
Eliza sympathized. “I wish I could say something to help.”
“That’s okay. We have to work it out. But it was nice of you to sit and listen. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Eliza noticed Betsy had begun to set out food for the evening meal. “I’m going to help set things up for dinner. Will you and Sydney be joining us?”
“I doubt it. We’ve still got some sandwiches and tea—that should be fine. I’d better go check on her.”
While Betsy had done her best to put on a delicious Christmas Eve dinner, it was a far cry from the cheese fondue, steak and chocolate soufflé that had been promised in the brochure.
Promptly at six o’clock everyone filed into the dining room, lined up at the buffet table to fill their plates, then sat quietly at the tables. First the guests, then Eliza and finally Marshall.
For once, no one complained about the food or anything else. It seemed spirits were too damp to allow for much in the way of conversation. Even Kevin seemed downhearted, probably saddened by the prospect of a Christmas with no Santa or stockings or gifts.
Earlier Eliza had entertained the idea of organizing the singing of Christmas carols or a game of charades. But once the meal was over, everyone disappeared to their rooms, no doubt anxious to crawl under their covers and enjoy the heat from their private fireplaces.
Only Kevin lingered, tugging on his mother’s hand. “Shouldn’t we hang our stockings by the fireplace and put out some cookies and milk? Just in case?”
“Kevin,” Tina said impatiently. “There’s no use. Santa won’t be coming this year. Now let’s go up to our room.”
“Poor kid,” Marshall whispered in her ear as they watched the boy and his mother leave the room.
“Do you think he’s young enough that he still believes?”
“If he did when he came, he probably doesn’t now.”
She and Marshall helped with kitchen clean-up, sending Betsy off to join Griff in their private suite just off the kitchen. While they worked, she told Marshall about her conversation with Jason, Sydney’s miscarriage and subsequent moodiness.
“Sorry to hear that,” he said when she was done. “I guess everyone has their problems, huh?”
She nodded. She’d come here with her broken heart seeking peace. Instead, she’d been trapped in a lodge with a bunch of other people who had been disappointed, in one way or another, by life. Even Buck Brackett, she suspected, probably had reasons for being so cantankerous.
“Feel like a glass of brandy by the fire?” Marshall asked once the work was finished.
She sure did. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”
With everyone tucked in for the night, they had the sitting room to themselves. Marshall built up the fire, before pouring out generous servings of brandy into two large goblets. Then sat perpendicular to her on the sectional sofa.
“I’d wish you a Merry Christmas, but that would be stretching.”
She smiled. “Maybe we should try for a Happy New Year, instead. Do you think we’ll be out of here by then?”
Marshall sputtered, then laughed. “God help us, we better. Or I won’t be responsible for the outcome.”
“Tell me more about what happened this afternoon with the Kellys. Jason said something about Sydney falling in a tree well.”
He nodded. “You know about those?”
“Yes. The tree branches protect the area under the tree from snow, creating a depression that can be many feet deep.”
“They’re actually super dangerous. And Sydney had the bad luck to tumble in head first. Only one of her skis released, that’s why her ankle got twisted. The bigger danger was all the loose snow that fell in with her. She was having trouble breathing and panicking big time when I found them.”
“Jason said he never would have gotten her out without you.”
“If he’d been able to stay calm and focused, he could have. But he was panicking almost as badly as his wife.”
“Not everyone reacts to dangerous situations in a rational manner.”
“It comes with training. And experience. It’s possible that tree well saved their lives. Because ten minutes later, they would have been in the high risk area for avalanches.”
He was totally downplaying his role as hero in the situation. She could imagine what he would have been like if he’d been able to live his Olympic dream. If he’d competed and won he would have modestly given the credit to his coach and team mates.
She sipped the brandy, enjoying the heady, orange flavor, and studied Marshall from behind the rim of the glass.
When she’d first met him, he’d struck her as average looking. He didn’t have the irresistible smile or movie star good looks of her John. But his face had strong bones, and a wholesome appeal, while his body was lean and athletic. A woman could do much worse.
In fact, it was hard to believe his claim that he didn’t have much luck with women.
“You’ve told me how you moved from California to Nashville. But how did you end up in Marietta?”
“Part of the reason was because I thought it would be a safe refuge where I could lick my wounds after John. But I believe I was always destined to come to Marietta one day. Unlike my parents and siblings, I was always curious about our family history. When I heard great-aunt Mable might be forced, for financial reasons, to sell Bramble House, that made me sad. I didn’t want the house to pass out of our family’s hands before I’d had a chance to see it and learn more about the Bramble history. As soon as I saw the house, though, I fell in love.”
“Can you really fall in love with a house?”
She considered the question seriously. “I’ve always been a fan of Victorian architecture, and Bramble House is a beautiful example. But it’s more than that. A house represents the history of the family who lives there.” Her own parents had always lived in California, but they’d moved frequently and had never settled into any community in particular. Her mom had a nomadic nature and her dad was happy to be wherever Mom was.
Again, Eliza was different. As a child she’d loved the Ann of Green Gables stories and had dreamed of finding a Green Gables herself one day, a place that was home and that meant something to her. And in Bramble House she had all of that.
She loved imagining a big family living in the house, kids in every bedroom and a couple of dogs roaming the place as well. Not that that was ever likely to happen. At least not to her. No, she’d been foolish enough to give her heart to a man who would probably never settle down. At least, not for long.
“What about you? Are you happy in Marietta?”
“It’s got everything I love. Mountains for skiing and rivers for fishing. And a job where I get to do both.”
She gazed into the fire, took a sip of brandy, then leaned back into the cushions on the arm of the sofa and stretched out her legs. Aside from the snapping of the burning wood, and the late-night creaks of the old log building, all was silent. A blizzard had trapped her in the wilds of Montana, stranding her with this man who’d been a stranger five-days ago, yet it was surprising how safe she felt.
*
When Eliza’s eyes fluttered closed, Marshall gently removed the brandy glass from her hand and waited to see if she’d wake up.
She didn’t.
He took one of the blankets folded on the hearth and spread it over her. She’d be warmer sleeping down here than in her bedroom. The two of them had been stuck with the rooms without fireplaces, which hadn’t seemed a big deal before. Thanks to this storm, it suddenly was.
God, but she was beautiful. The urge to kiss her was so strong he had to force himself to walk away. He busied himself with the fire, adding enough wood to last many hours, if not the entire night.
At one point he noticed the Christmas tree, forlorn without the lights that had been turned off to conserve electricity. He wished he had the power to make the tree glow brightly once more. The power to fill a stocking with toys and candy for Kevin. To allow the Kellys to have a baby.
To heal Eliza’s broken heart…
But he had no Christmas magic to spare for anyone. If he had, he would have used it all, fifteen years ago, to save the brother who had been, not only his mother’s favored child, but also his favorite person in the entire world.
For a minute Marshall considered returning to his own room. But he didn’t feel right, leaving Eliza alone in here. Probably, she’d be perfectly safe.
But the way this trip was going, he didn’t want to risk it.
So he stretched out on the longer length of the sectional sofa, positioning himself so he could keep an eye on both her and the fire. He’d watch over them both.
Chapter Eight
‡
Christmas morning. Marshall opened his eyes to a chilly room that seemed a little brighter than it had been for a while.
But no, when he checked out the window, it was still snowing, albeit lightly.
Eliza had pulled her blanket up over her head, so only her nose peeked out.
Cute nose.
He’d fallen asleep, despite his intentions of watching over the fire, and Eliza, all night. Just a few embers were glowing in the hearth now, and quickly he went to add logs, and get the blaze going again.
While he was crouched at the hearth, he heard a husky voice from behind him.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Same to you.” He dusted ash from his hands, then went back to his place on the sectional. “Did you sleep, okay? I hope you weren’t too cold.”
“I was fine. I admit I considered cuddling next to you when I woke up a few hours ago. But I grabbed this extra blanket, instead.”
He noted the new blanket, spread over the one he’d placed on her several hours ago. “I would have been good with the cuddling.”
She glanced at him, probably checking to see if he was teasing. But that was a game he didn’t even know how to play. In that moment, he envied men like John Urban who knew the clever words to say, the smooth moves to make. All he could do was stoke the fire so she would be warm. And offer to bring her a cup of coffee.
“Oh, coffee would be wonderful.”
He went to the kitchen where he found Betsy busy at the stove, while Griff enjoyed his first coffee of the morning. After wishing them a Merry Christmas, he filled two mugs, adding milk to one.
“I think the storm is easing up,” Griff commented.
“Too late to save Christmas,” Betsy noted glumly. “I’m out of eggs. It’ll have to be frozen waffles and strawberry preserves for breakfast.”
“Do the best you can,” Marshall said. “And let me handle the complaints.”
Betsy touched his arm. “You’ve been such a trooper. I know some tour guides who would have gone berserk by now.”
He shrugged. Temper tantrums were for children. And they couldn’t make the snow stop falling or give access to the supply trucks that had been scheduled to arrive days ago.
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