Sweetbriar Cottage

by Denise Hunter

  A few hours had passed since then, and as evening drew closer his hopes were fading. Josie had been right about the gunshots. They’d echoed off the hills. Even if the sound had attracted attention, no one would know where to look. They might even assume someone was just hunting.

  He’d tried the lighter periodically, but it still wasn’t working. He picked it up again, palming it, and looked heavenward for a long, heartfelt moment.

  God, we need Your help. I can’t do this alone. We need a fire, and we need it bad.

  He looked down at Josie, where she rested on his shoulder. Her delicate eyelashes swept the pale skin of her face. Her lips, bleached of color before, now had a bluish tint.

  The trickle of fear seeped into his blood, spreading rapidly. He didn’t know how long she’d last out here without a fire. She’d gone downhill so fast after getting wet.

  Please, God. For Josie’s sake. He blew on the lighter’s top and gave the switch a flick.

  Nothing.

  Frustration poured through his veins. He had to do something. He couldn’t just sit here, waiting around for help that may never come. Even though he knew better, he considered starting off on his own. Without a fire, did they even stand a chance of being found?

  There were still the snowmobile tracks. They’d be gone once the plows came through, but at that point Mary Beth would go to his ranch to check on her horse. She’d see they hadn’t been fed or tended to. That he wasn’t there, though his truck was. She might notice the missing snowmobile and come looking.

  His brother would worry too, when he couldn’t reach Noah. Once the roads were plowed, Seth would come check on him. The question was, how long would all that take?

  Josie stirred in his arms, and she tipped her head back, looking at him. “Is the c-cavalry here yet?”

  “Not yet, but my fingers are crossed.” Or they would be if he could feel them.

  She sat up a bit, stretching, her teeth clacking together. She caught sight of the lighter, still clenched in his hand. “Still not working?”

  “Afraid not.”

  He handed her the last water bottle. “We need to stay hydrated.”

  She looked around the white landscape. “Water’s one thing we have aplenty.”

  That might be true, but eating snow would cause their body temperatures to drop further. He hoped there was a stream nearby. It would be cold, but it was better than snow.

  She took a long drink, then handed the bottle back to him. “I’d trade all my worldly possessions for a warm b-bath right now.”

  “I know what you mean. How are you feeling?”

  Her coat swished as she crossed her arms. “Seems colder today, doesn’t it?”

  Were her words a little slurred? She’d already exhibited signs of imbalance, and her skin had taken on a gray tint. He feared she was already mildly hypothermic.

  “I think it just feels that way.” He unzipped his coat. “Lean back. Let’s try and get you warmed up a bit.”

  She sagged against him, and he wrapped his coat around her, followed by his arms.

  “That feels good,” she said softly.

  He tucked her under his chin. He couldn’t deny it. Having Josie close felt good for all kinds of reasons.

  “Think anyone’ll come?”

  Definitely slurring. He hunched his body over hers, hugged her legs tightly with his own. “There’s a good chance. Seth will worry when he doesn’t hear from me. Mary Beth’ll come to check on the horses.”

  “Didja say your prayers?”

  “Of course. Did you?”

  “Mmmm. He’s more likely to answer yours though.”

  It wasn’t the first time she’d said such a thing. “Why do you say things like that? God loves you as much as He loves me.”

  “He’s never really answered mine.”

  “Sure He has. He doesn’t always say yes, that’s all.”

  He waited for a reply, but she only let out a long, slow breath.

  Overhead the barren branches knocked together in the breeze, and a couple of squirrels nattered somewhere nearby. The air smelled of cold and pine, and he detected a hint of his shampoo on Josie’s hair.

  A distant honking sound echoed through the air, growing louder. Noah looked overhead as a flock of geese passed in their V-shape formation. He sure wished he and Josie could fly out of here.

  “Lucky ducks,” Josie said.

  He set his chin on her head, seeking her warmth, as he closed his eyes and whispered another prayer. This one was longer and more specific. He prayed for his brother to grow alarmed at his absence and for Mary Beth to check on her horse sooner than later. He prayed for supernatural warmth for Josie, who was too apathetic for his liking. And fire. He prayed for fire.

  “Remember what I told you before?” Josie said softly.

  His eyes opened, and his stubble scraped against her nylon hood as he set his cheek against her head. “About what?”

  “About, you know . . . losing my virginity at twelve?”

  His stomach tightened. A man wasn’t likely to forget such a thing. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this. “We don’t have to talk about that right now.” Or ever again. Some images were best forgotten.

  “Thing is, Noah . . . I wasn’t exactly forthcoming before. When it happened, I-I wasn’t exactly a willing participant.”

  A heavy feeling settled in his stomach even as his muscles tightened. “You were raped?” He stilled, waiting for an answer that was slow in coming.

  “My s-stepdad . . . Eddie? He lost me in a poker game.”

  The words hit him in waves, each one bringing its own distinct emotion. Shock, sympathy, anger. Her matter-of-fact tone only upset him more. He pushed back the anger and tried to focus on Josie.

  His arms tightened around her. “Oh, honey. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “I was . . . ashamed, I guess.”

  His heart broke for her. For the little girl who’d been at some man’s mercy. For the woman who still believed she was to blame.

  “It wasn’t your fault. You were just a child.”

  “It-it happened more than once. His name was Shark—that’s what they called him anyway. He’d come in late at night and—”

  “Shhh. It’s okay.” He didn’t want to know. Already he wanted to hunt the man down and pummel him. Her stepfather, too, except he was already dead.

  “G-guys used me, and after a while . . . I just decided to start using them right back.”

  Her words sank in, making sense in a way he hated. He’d known she’d been promiscuous. Even if he hadn’t paid mind to the rumors about her life in Cartersville, he couldn’t have missed the fact that his wife had been very accomplished in the bedroom.

  He’d tried not to think too much about it. But now she’d shed a whole new light on it.

  They sat in silence for a minute. Then five.

  Noah couldn’t get it out of his head. His heart was thumping a hundred miles an hour, and his breathing had grown shallow. He had so much adrenaline flooding through his veins he couldn’t sit still another minute.

  He loosened his hold on her. “I’m going to go find a stream and fill up our water bottles, okay?”

  Josie turned, a flicker of alarm on her face.

  “I’ll be back soon, I promise. I think I heard running water when I was gathering branches. I’m going to need my boots back for a while though.”

  She leaned forward and began working the laces.

  After watching her struggle a moment, he helped remove the boots and put the dry part of his socks on her feet, leaving the wet ends to hang off.

  As worried as he was about frostbite, he was even more worried about her core temperature.

  He shoved his feet into his boots, then shrugged out of his coat.

  “What are you doing? You need that.”

  “I’ll stay warm enough hiking, getting my blood circulating.” He squatted down, wrapping it around her, arms and all. Then he zipped it up.

>   He pulled the hood up over her own and tightened the drawstrings, his fingers clumsy with cold. He took in her grayish pallor and trembling lips. Fear leached deep into his bones.

  Soon, Jesus. Before dark. Please.

  After he finished the tie he dredged up a smile. “Prettiest Eskimo I’ve ever seen.”

  It didn’t even draw a smile. “Hurry b-back.”

  He grabbed the backpack and set off into the woods, Josie’s admission echoing in his head. The emotions that had been roiling inside revealed themselves in the quickness of his footsteps, in the clenching of his muscles. He wanted to slam his fist into the nearest tree trunk. But he couldn’t afford an injury. He had to think about survival now. His and Josie’s.

  Even so, he shook with excess energy. He thought of Josie’s stepfather and couldn’t imagine what kind of man wagered a young girl’s body in a poker game.

  He paced in place, a scream building inside him, one he couldn’t release. So he stuffed it down with all the feelings. He remembered that the event had happened more than once and thought of the little girl. That helpless little girl.

  He looked up into the heavens, past the snow-laden branches to the gray abyss, eyes burning. He swallowed against the knot in his throat, and his stomach turned.

  God!

  His prayer started and ended there. He wanted to weep for that little girl. She was still there inside Josie. He saw it now. In her guardedness. In her provocative nature. In her cynicism.

  Why was she telling him this now? When there was nothing he could do? When she wasn’t even his to protect? She’d held it close through their relationship when they’d shared an intimacy he’d only dreamed of. Why now?

  The answer sprang up like the first spring crocus through the snow. She told him now because she had nothing to lose. Because she didn’t think they’d be rescued.

  She was giving up.

  But he wasn’t going to let her. He looked back where he’d come from, taking a step that direction. But no. They needed water.

  He needed to remember his military training. Improvise. Adapt. Overcome. He hadn’t survived a tour in Afghanistan to die on a mountain only miles from home.

  He forced himself to take slow, even breaths so he could listen for the sound of running water. The wind cut through the branches, rubbing them together. They creaked as they swayed. A bird chattered from a nearby tree.

  And then, in the background, he heard it. A faint rippling sound. He followed it, going another hundred yards down a hill, and found a trickling stream. He cleared the snow and ice, using the helmet visor. Then he pulled off his gloves and filled the bottles, careful to stay dry.

  His hands were shaking, though with cold or some other emotion he wasn’t sure. When he got back he was going to get Josie hydrated, then he was going to convince her help was on the way and work on another fire. He couldn’t let her lose hope and give up. Despair was an enemy as dangerous as the cold.

  Chapter 27

  Josie watched Noah rotating the stick between his palms, producing a tch-tch-tch-tch sound as it rubbed inside the stump’s hole. A frown of concentration bunched his brows. He’d been at it for at least a couple hours. She didn’t know where he got his patience.

  He’d refused to take his coat back, and amazingly enough, his forehead was beaded with perspiration. He’d whittled more kindling from a dry stick he’d found beneath a rock overhang. His little nest remained hopelessly cold, though he’d managed a bit of smoke.

  The tch-ing stopped as Noah paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

  She caught sight of his bare palm, red and raw. “Noah . . . your hands.”

  He spared her a glance. “I’m all right.”

  He wasn’t all right. Neither of them was. But he wore that look of determination he’d had since he’d returned with water. He had insisted she drink a whole bottle and had broken out the last of the peanuts. It hadn’t been near enough. Her stomach was already growling again. But that was the least of her worries.

  He started again with the stick. Those palms needed tending to, though he was too mulish to admit it.

  She changed tactics. “C-can you take a rest at least and come warm me up?”

  He looked at her for a long moment, his eyes inscrutable. Then he set down his tools. “Yeah, sure.” He tried the lighter a couple times, and when it didn’t work, he set it on the lightweight nest of kindling so it’d stay put.

  Stretching, he looked at the sky, his lips tightening.

  “What time do you think it is?”

  He rubbed his chin. “Probably around four or five. I’m going to go ahead and fire off those shots.”

  He didn’t have to say what he was thinking. As much as he’d wanted a signal fire first, they needed someone to find them before dark.

  Josie held her ears as he cracked off three shots, a steady distance apart. He paused afterward, staring off into the distance, probably breathing a heartfelt prayer.

  “Someone’ll notice,” he said as he set the gun down. “Three shots earlier, three again now. It’s clearly a signal.”

  “Come warm me up.”

  He regarded her closely as he approached. “Why don’t we get you up first?” He began trading his boots for the socks on her feet. “You should walk around, get your blood circulating a bit.”

  “I’ll t-try.”

  As he put his gloves back on, Josephine caught sight of his raw palms again.

  “You should put something on your hands. There’s some kind of cream in that kit.”

  “They’ll be fine.”

  He squatted down, unzipped the coat he’d wrapped around her, and began directing her arms into the sleeves.

  She pulled away. “No, you need it.”

  “Not right now. All that work kept me plenty warm. Look, I’m sweating.”

  She gave in. She was too tired to fight. Her movements were slow and clumsy even with his help, and she wondered if her legs would support her.

  “Ready?” At her nod he took her hands and tugged her up. “Upsy-daisy.”

  Her muscles locked up under her weight, and her legs buckled.

  “Whoa.” He caught her around the waist, holding her until she steadied, his warm breath on her temple. “If you wanted to cuddle you should’ve just said so.”

  She breathed a laugh.

  “I can’t walk with you.” He was only wearing socks and standing on the pine boughs to stay dry.

  “I can do it.”

  He slowly released her, allowing her to adjust to her own weight. She took a step, and pain shot up her leg, making her waver. She bit back a groan and forced herself to take another. Walking hurt. It hurt like the dickens. Her feet were hardly working either. They felt like blocks of bloated wood. Her legs threatened to give out, and to top it all off, her head was spinning.

  Five steps away she stopped. “I-I think I need to sit down.”

  Noah reached for her as she limped back to the bed of pine boughs. “What’s hurting?”

  What isn’t? The worry on his face, however, tempered her response. “I’m just a little lightheaded, that’s all. I’ll try again later.”

  He helped her down and settled behind her, wrapping his heat around her. The weight of his chin on her head comforted her.

  She gazed out at the snowy landscape. At the clouds gathering on the horizon. “The sun will be setting soon.”

  They’d have no firelight tonight. No extra warmth. She could almost feel her body shutting down, inch by inch. She was already shaking uncontrollably.

  “We’ll be all right. I’ll cut more boughs and make a snow shelter. The roads are probably cleared by now. Between the gunshots, my brother, and Mary Beth, someone’ll come looking. Maybe even before dark.”

  She thought of something to say about that. Something about the snowmobile tracks, but the thought was gone before it could take shape. That was happening a lot.

  Noah talked a long time. About his family, about
the ranch, about his childhood. She listened, loving the deep hum of his voice against her back. The warmth of his arms around her. His musky cologne was long gone, leaving only the manly scent that was all Noah.

  She turned her face into his arm. This isn’t such a bad way to go.

  Her eyes opened. She was in danger of freezing to death. He didn’t have to tell her that. Her body was saying plenty. And clearly her mind was messing with her.

  “Josie?”

  She noticed belatedly that he’d gone quiet. Noticed also that the sky had gotten a fraction darker.

  “Mmm?”

  “How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do?”

  “You’re doing all you can, Noah.”

  He adjusted his coat around her, tightening his arms. “Help is on the way. I’m sure of it. They’ll find us.”

  She wished she had his optimism. All she could think of was the long cold night ahead. Dread settled over her like an icy cape. She looked up into the darkening sky and thought of God. Thought of Noah’s fervent prayers. Of her own, when she’d been a child. When she’d believed.

  She still did. She just felt . . . unworthy, she supposed. Unworthy of God’s attention. Of His love. With so many faithful people like Noah, why would He waste time on her?

  And yet, here they were: Noah and Josephine, suffering the same experience. She deserved it, no doubt, but Noah didn’t.

  She didn’t understand God. Didn’t understand Him one bit.

  “What are you thinking about?” The rough texture of Noah’s voice scraped pleasantly over her.

  “Hmm. God mostly.”

  “What about Him?”

  “Do you think He’s here? Right now?”

  “Of course. He’s omnipresent.”

  She’d thought of that many times. It made her think of the small dark room in that trailer. Of the little girl, desperate for help. She pushed the image into a dusty corner of her mind.