Sweetbriar Cottage

by Denise Hunter

  A pause ensued as Mary Beth took her turn.

  “I know. How are you holding up? Staying warm enough?”

  Noah’s deep chuckle ran right through Josephine.

  “Well, let me know if it gets any worse. I could run the snow machine over and take a look at it.”

  A warm flush crawled up Josephine’s neck. Super Noah to the rescue. She’d just bet Mary Beth would take him up on that. Heaven knew he was eager enough to escape Josephine.

  The phone call went on a few more minutes, moving to more horse talk. By the time he hung up her jaw ached from clenching her teeth.

  “That your new girlfriend?” Josephine smirked, blinked innocently, but she wondered if the tightness in her tone gave her away.

  Noah fixed her with a stony look. “I don’t see what business that is of yours.”

  “Well, technically you’re still my husband.” Hush up, Josephine.

  Noah’s eyes tightened and somehow reached a new level of cold. “Technically, you gave up your rights to that claim ’round about a year and a half ago.”

  She couldn’t stop the warmth of shame that flooded her face, but she had many years of practice schooling her features into that I-couldn’t-care-less look.

  “Mary Beth’s a nice girl. She suits you.” It about killed her to say it.

  His nostrils flared. “I don’t need your advice or your approval, Josephine.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Just saying. You have a lot in common, with the horses and all.”

  He pinned her with a deadly look, and she wondered why on earth she was egging him on. It was just that the phone call had set all these emotions roiling inside her, and she could hardly stand to see him sitting there with that secret little smile on his face.

  But now he was glowering at the screen, his brows pinched together, a shadow moving as his jaw ticked. Even angry he was handsome. Stop-in-the-street-and-stare kind of handsome, with that jet-black hair and olive skin. She’d known he was trouble from the minute he walked into her shop. But she’d always known just how to handle troublesome men.

  At least she always had before. Noah had somehow inched under her defenses with his quiet resolve and unnerving patience.

  No man’s ever gonna love a girl like you, Jo.

  The words surfaced from a deep, dark place inside, reaching out with long tentacles and dragging her down.

  You’re only good for one thing, and every man within a dozen square miles of you knows it.

  That last part had only been added on in high school after her reputation had been sullied.

  She’d somehow convinced herself it would be different with Noah. But in the end, Eddie and her mama had been proven right.

  “What?” Noah snapped.

  She startled a little. Realized she’d been gawking at him.

  “Stop looking at me like that.”

  The memory had sucked all the wind from her sails, and it took a real effort to school her features. “Like what?”

  “I’m not falling for it again, Josephine. That innocent, vulnerable, save-me thing you do. So you can just keep your wiles to yourself.”

  She fought the sting behind her eyes even as she curled her lips. “I do believe I’ll save them for someone they might just work on.”

  His nostrils flared again. “You do that.”

  Her body was flushed with heat. “You should go on over to Mary Beth’s. Sounded like she needs some help.” What are you doing, you big dope?

  “Itching to be rid of me?”

  She gave a careless shrug. “It’s obvious you don’t want to be here. Or better yet, why don’t you just take me back to town on that snow machine of yours?”

  “I’d be happy to. Unfortunately we’re going to have to wait until the wind dies down unless you want to freeze to death on the way.”

  A log shifted in the fireplace, sizzling.

  Though Josephine’s face was a study in indifference, there was a lonely quality to her voice that sucked Noah right in.

  No. She is not lonely. She’s a master manipulator. A man-eater.

  And he was a darned fool.

  “I could give you a haircut,” she said. “It’s a little long, and that would help pass the time.”

  Memories surfaced. Her fingers sifting through his hair, her perfume flooding his senses, her body skimming his shoulders as the scissors snipped quietly. Lazy Saturday mornings. His pulse leaped, and his nerve endings tingled. His body had not forgotten.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You used to like the way I styled your hair.”

  “I used to like a lot of things. Look, why don’t we just try and get through this? You do your thing, I’ll do mine. With any luck you’ll be headed home tomorrow.”

  When it came to the weather forecast, he still hadn’t told her quite everything. The truth was it would take a lot of luck and a minor miracle besides.

  She gave him that smirk he’d come to hate in the last days of their marriage. “Whatever you want, Noah.”

  They passed the rest of the day in silence. She worked on the laptop and he worked in the attic, putting up sheets of drywall over the batts of insulation. Swinging a hammer was always a welcome release, even if he was making a heap of noise. Even Shadow had deserted him in favor of Josephine.

  When she called him for supper he saw that the snow had tapered off to flurries. The weather reports conflicted from one site to the next—some warning of a second system on the heels of the first, others saying rain or a wintry mix starting in the morning. With any luck it would be rain. Tons of it, to melt off the snow.

  Supper was a quiet affair. Josephine had retreated to her corner and he to his, and that was just fine. There was nothing but indifference on her face. Sometimes he thought she was made of stone. How she could be in the same room after all they’d shared and feel so little, he hadn’t a clue.

  When they were finished he cleared their dishes. As he stacked them in the dishwasher, he heard Josephine on the phone with the teenaged girl. Apparently the boy had agreed to the date, but the girl seemed to need some coaxing on the follow-through.

  He went outside at dusk to tend to the horses. Even though it was still windy he put them back out to pasture. It took awhile to get their coats on and move them one by one. He cleaned out the stalls, and by the time he was back inside it was going on eight.

  Josephine had replenished the wood supply. He heard the sink running in the bathroom as he hung his coat on the tree. With any luck she’d turn in early. If she didn’t, he’d work in the attic. It was ready to be taped and mudded. If he finished tonight he could sand tomorrow and start painting. That would keep him busy if Josephine ended up stuck here another day.

  He flipped on the TV and stopped on ESPN. He wished March Madness had already begun because the choices were meager tonight. But maybe if he commandeered the TV she’d retreat into the bedroom.

  He checked the weather again, feeling a little compulsive. Nothing had changed.

  He heard the bathroom door open, and a moment later the bedroom door clicked shut.

  His body sank deeper into the recliner. Relief, he told himself. But guilt pricked his conscience. He’d all but driven her to the bedroom with his mandate of silence.

  His eyes found the ceiling. All right, I get it.

  Clearly he had some work to do. He hadn’t forgiven her. Was he trying to punish her with his silence? Maybe he hadn’t asked for this, but the forced contact was exposing something in him. Something not so pretty.

  Something he’d deal with in the morning. He gave a hard sigh and shut off the TV, eager to lose himself in tape and mud.

  Chapter 12

  Something pulled Josephine from slumber. Her eyes flew open, and darkness pressed in on all sides. Complete and utter darkness. Suffocating. Her heartbeat thudded, shaking her mattress.

  You’re dreaming. You left the light on, remember? This is just an awful nightmare.

  But no. She was wide-awake. And
it was so terribly dark.

  Suddenly her mind was back in that room, her body flooding with adrenaline. His heavy weight crushing her. One hand clamped painfully over her mouth, another pulling at her pajama bottoms.

  No. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t twelve. She was at Noah’s. Safe.

  She reached for the tableside lamp, groping in the darkness. Her clumsy hands knocked it over, and it toppled sideways with a clatter. She fumbled for the switch and found it, but twisting it did nothing.

  She scrambled backward to the headboard. It clattered against the wall as she huddled against it, drawing her knees in close. Her labored breaths filled the darkness as she searched the room, eyes wide in the suffocating darkness.

  You’re at Noah’s. Everything’s fine.

  But it wasn’t. There wasn’t so much as a gray shadow to break the inky blackness. And she smelled cigarette smoke and alcohol. Or was that only her imagination?

  “Noah.” The whisper grated across her throat, not loud enough to stir him even if he’d been sleeping beside her.

  She listened intently, but her heartbeat thrashed in her ears, covering any extraneous noises. A sweat broke out on the back of her neck, but she pulled the covers closer.

  You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.

  Noah’s eyes opened. A sound had woken him. Lying prone on the couch, he listened. Shadow snored softly on the floor beside him, unbothered. The wind howled outside. Maybe a branch had fallen on the roof. Or maybe he’d left something on the ladder upstairs. Something that might’ve fallen off.

  It felt like the middle of the night, but the sound had him fully alert. He checked the DVR for the time, but the numbers weren’t there. He checked his cell phone instead. 2:50.

  Another noise sounded, this one loud and clearly coming from his bedroom. He leaped off the sofa, heading that way, banging his shin on the coffee table in his rush.

  When he reached the closed door, he tapped twice. “Josephine?”

  Hearing nothing, he pushed it open.

  Ragged breaths filled the darkness. A nightmare? Where was the light?

  He flipped the switch on the wall. Nothing. He remembered the DVR and realized the electricity must’ve gone out.

  He moved into the room, toward the ragged breaths. “Josie, it’s me,” he said, easing onto the mattress.

  A whimper sounded.

  “Wake up.” He reached out for her but felt only empty bedding. Warm still.

  “I—I’m awake.” The words trembled, coming from the head of the bed.

  His hand moved across the mattress, finding and closing around one of her blanket-clad feet. “You okay?”

  “Can you turn on the light?” The desperation in her voice tore at him. “Please?”

  He squeezed her foot. “The electricity’s out. Where’s your phone?” Without turning loose of her he reached for the nightstand, groping in the darkness.

  “It’s dead.”

  “I have a flashlight in the laundry room.” He eased off the mattress.

  She grabbed his arm. “Wait! I’ll go with you.”

  The mattress squeaked as she slid off it. She clutched the back of his T-shirt, following closely behind. He could feel her tremors.

  “Watch your step,” he said as they moved slowly through the living room.

  When they reached the laundry room, he found the large flashlight in the cupboard over the washer. He clicked it on, and a circle of light puddled on the floor, illuminating the room.

  He turned toward Josephine, his T-shirt still clutched in her hand. His eyes settled on her. On her pinched face, her terror-stricken eyes, her quivering lip. Her whole body trembled as her shoulders rose and fell with her shallow breaths. There was nothing fake or manipulative about her behavior.

  She blinked a few times, then awkwardly let loose of his shirt and stepped away. “Sorry. Sorry . . .”

  He extended the flashlight.

  She took it, grasping it like a lifeline, and backed toward the door. “I—I’m okay now.”

  He wasn’t sure which one of them she was trying to convince.

  “I’ll go back to bed.”

  “It’s going to get cold in there. You’d best stay in the living room near the fire.”

  “Oh.”

  “I’ll add more logs. Go ahead and take the sofa. I’ll take the recliner.”

  She didn’t argue—a testament to her state of mind—as he grabbed a second flashlight and made his way into the living room.

  His mind spun as he added logs to the fire. Back when they were together he hadn’t tried very hard to find out why Josephine was afraid of the dark. Shouldn’t a husband know a thing like that? He hadn’t even asked a second time, after she’d brushed him off once. Why hadn’t he pressed the issue?

  But it was too late now. None of his business anymore.

  Josephine stirred awake as a cold draft drifted over her. Faint morning light trickled through the slit in the curtains. Her eyes caught on the flashlight gleaming from the table an instant before she became aware of Noah easing his boots off by the door.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” The low scrape of his voice brought her fully awake.

  The night before flooded back, and heat flushed her face. She wished she could pull the covers over her head and pretend the whole thing had never happened. To that end, she clicked off the flashlight, but dawn had already slipped into the room. There was no hiding.

  A recently stoked fire crackled in the grate, and the smell of coffee beckoned.

  “Is the electricity still out?”

  “Yeah. It might be awhile before they get it back on.”

  “Are the plows out yet?”

  “Ah . . . no.” His lips thinned, and his gaze fell away as he kicked his boots into the corner and hung up his coat. She noticed the speckles of snow on his hair, on his coat.

  She eased up on the sofa. “It’s snowing again?”

  He ran his hand through his hair, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah . . . about that. It looks like there’s a second system coming through.”

  Her stomach slid down into the crevices of the couch. “What? How bad?”

  The corners of his eyes tightened. His glance bounced off hers. “When I checked before bed they were saying another four inches.”

  “Four inches!”

  He heaved a sigh and shelved his hands on his hips. “Look. It’s not good, Josephine. I’m not going to lie. It’s supposed to snow most of the day. God only knows how long it’ll take the plows to get it all cleared off. But if the wind dies down tomorrow I can take you back on the snowmobile if you don’t mind freezing half to death.”

  Tomorrow was her event. Her breath left her body. No. This was not happening.

  “We’re just going to have to deal with it. I’ll get some more wood chopped today. Get some plastic up over the hallway and the kitchen. We need to keep the heat in here as much as possible. Is there anyone you need to call while I still have some battery left? You should probably let someone know we’ve lost power so they won’t worry when they can’t reach you.”

  Her thoughts scrambled with everything this meant. She dragged her mind away from the fact that she was stranded with her ex—with her husband—and on to more practical thoughts of work. Callie was going to have to cover for her again today. But the pampering event . . .

  “Isn’t there any way we can take the snowmobile later today? I have that event at the shop tomorrow, and I’ll need to be there early to—”

  He was already shaking his head. “It’s too dangerous. The wind chill’s too low. The wind’s supposed to die down sometime tomorrow though.”

  Her eyes stung in frustration. “I can’t believe this.” Why, why, why was this happening? She closed her eyes as if she could make it all disappear. But when she opened them nothing had changed. It was still her and Noah—trapped now in one, single, solitary room.

  Think, Josephine.

  She had to figure out her work situation.
She’d made the schedule, but now she’d have to find someone to replace her until she could get there. And someone would have to get everything set up tonight.

  Just like her life, everything seemed to be getting worse and worse.

  Chapter 13

  They had breakfast—toast, cereal, and the last browning banana. Afterward Josephine slipped into the cold bedroom for privacy and called Callie, using Noah’s phone.

  Callie promised to hold down the fort and set up for the event. “Everything’s going to be fine,” she said. “I promise. Don’t you trust me?”

  “Why, of course I trust you. I’m just . . .”

  “Frazzled? Befuddled? Still in love with your husband?”

  Josephine palmed her forehead, lowering her voice. “This is a nightmare. Someone wake me up.”

  “Sorry, kiddo. Are things still tense?”

  “Well, let’s see, I’m trapped in a house with a man who hates me—”

  “He doesn’t hate you.”

  “—and I’m missing the event I’ve been planning for months, and we’ve lost electricity—”

  “What?”

  “—so now we’re basically trapped in one room, relying on a fireplace for warmth.”

  “Never underestimate the value of body heat.”

  “You’re not helping.”

  “Hey, you’re still married. Desperate measures and all that.”

  “Ha. Noah will never be that desperate.”

  “Maybe this is just what the two of you needed. Maybe God’s going to use this somehow. That’s how I’m going to pray.”

  “Suit yourself.” Josephine didn’t want to talk about God. She was confused enough right now. She told Callie she’d work on finding a replacement for tomorrow’s event—at least until she could get there—and ended the conversation.

  When she entered the living room, Noah was stapling sheets of heavy plastic over the kitchen, shrinking the space in half.

  The steady click-click of the stapler stopped. He was finished. They were officially trapped in one room.

  He set the stapler on the TV stand and faced her as she sank onto the sofa. “I think we need to talk.”