by Gina Drayer
He smiled. "What are you doing up? It's early."
Lucy glanced at the time; it was only 7:40. They'd only slept for a few hours. She glanced at the window.
"The sun woke me up."
Sheldon followed her gaze. "It looks nice out."
Lucy nodded and crawled back into the large bed and into Sheldon's arms. She nuzzled his chest. “It does. I hope the hills are open and we can get outside.”
He kissed her tangled hair. “I’d be okay if we never left this bed.”
Lucy giggled. “For the whole week? We’d be sore.”
“It would be worth it.” Lucy couldn’t disagree.
They lay silent for several minutes, holding one another, enjoying the peace. Lucy nuzzled his chest once more, glancing around the room at the open bottle of champagne and melted candles.
“How did you do all of this?” she asked.
Sheldon chuckled. “I had help.”
Lucy propped herself up on her right forearm and raised her right eyebrow. “From who?”
“Leonard.”
“The concierge?”
Sheldon nodded. “He was very helpful. Had a few suggestions even.”
A smile formed on Lucy’s lips as she settled back onto his chest. “I never knew you were such a romantic.”
“Oh, don’t fool yourself, Lucy. I’m a romantic.” He pushed her off of him and onto her back. He hovered over her, brushing his lips against hers. “And I will prove it to you this week. Every night will be filled with romance. Something new each night. You’ll be tired of it.”
Lucy stared up into Sheldon’s blue eyes and smiled. She didn’t fight him as he kissed her again. Instead, she closed her eyes and pushed against him. She looked forward to the rest of their week and their return home. It took 100 miles and no power to remind them how much they loved each other, but it was more than enough to rekindle their lost love.
MILDRED GABLE is a 20 something Canadian author working full time as a marketing associate. When backpacking through Europe, she developed an interest in writing and began writing historical fictions from the Tudor era in England, but her writing interests span larger. She has also dabbled in thrillers, scifi and more recently starting a fantasy series and writing short pieces. Check out her blog for some of her short works and online publications.
Twitter: @maggiegiles_
Facebook: www.facebook.com/maggiegiles225
Blog: maggiesecretwriting.blogspot.com
CHAPTER THREE
Out of the Cold
by Jesse Pearl
Justine drove away from Schenectady for the last time on a Friday. She’d said goodbye to her baby once and for all, the pastry catering business she and Zach had nurtured and fought over until his death a year earlier. In a desperate attempt to finally break through the wall of grief over losing him, she’d finally come to her senses and sold it.
The ten years she and Zach had spent at odds over their shared ambitions had all but crumbled to dust on their last night together; the word ‘divorce’ had been hanging in the air when the drunk driver broadsided them. ‘Widow’ was the last word she ever thought she’d have to use to describe herself. She still wished half the time that she’d had one more day to try to make things work, and the other half wishing she’d left him years earlier so she wouldn’t have had to deal with the grief over losing him. The move to Lake Placid to take a position as a pastry chef at an exclusive vacation resort was her first real step to moving forward.
After a three hour drive, the massive split-timber architecture of the Liberty Springs Lodge came into view. The place was huge—spectacular, yet still inviting. The main building was nestled in the pine-forested hillside like a languid bird of prey sleeping in its nest. Its panoramic windows faced Lake Placid and she wondered how many rooms shared that amazing view.
Heavy, gray clouds hung low in the distance, promising snow. She’d always loved curling up by a fire with a good book while the northeast winter raged outside. The lodge’s website advertised fireplaces in every room.
Her negotiations for her new position had included accommodation for the month or two it would take to find her own place, so she anticipated a little pampering while she got settled in. A familiar ache burned in her belly at the thought of how much she’d have loved to share this experience with Zach. They’d fought like rabid dogs over their business, but had always managed to enjoy their free time together. She pushed the feeling aside and pulled into the parking lot of the lodge.
After checking in, she found that her room did have the promised fireplace, but the Great Room off the lodge’s lobby had been too inviting to ignore, with the low murmur of dining patrons and a large stone fireplace. She grabbed her e-reader and key card and headed back down. Her equipment wouldn’t arrive until Monday, so she thought she’d try to enjoy a brief vacation before she got back to work. After staking out a cozy corner near a window, she stepped to the bar and ordered a hot buttered rum.
The bartender grinned. “Best order today,” he said. “Coming right up.”
A moment later he slid the steaming mug toward her. “Got your lantern handy? This storm’s fit to be a doozy.”
“What storm?” she asked. She glanced toward the window, brow furrowing at the darkening sky.
“Didn’t the concierge tell you? We’re about to be buried in snow, from the sound of it. Don’t worry, if the power goes out we have generators, so we’ll be able to heat up these babies all weekend.” He gestured at her steaming drink.
“Will we still have hot water?” Justine asked. She had plans for the jacuzzi tub in her room later.
The bartender grimaced. “Maybe? Likely not… Depends when we lose power I suppose. It’s inevitable. Also, we keep enough generators to power the community areas, just not the guest rooms. All the rooms have lanterns and the fireplaces will work since they’re gas-powered, but you’ll have to shower in the fitness center. Still, the outages usually only last a day at most.”
“Good to know. Thanks.” She grabbed her mug and turned, making her way back to her seat and settling down to watch the snow fall in steady, fat flakes. In spite of her intention to enjoy the scene, her mood darkened along with the light. Her belly began to feel buried in cold grief again, growing thicker each second as though the winter still kept an icy, strangling hold on her emotions. Seeing the trees and ground gradually covered by the white flakes only amplified the sensation. She sipped and watched, forgetting her book, but unable to stop the fresh uncertainty that snuck in like a shadow intruding on her precarious effort at optimism.
***
Jake woke with a start, disoriented from the terrifying and familiar dream he’d clawed his way out of. His memory throbbed with the haunting image of his squad leader’s look of fear the split second before the bomb went off. The remnants of the blast still inexorably peppered his mind with psychic shrapnel on a regular basis. His ears rang from the rumble of the explosion; his flesh stung from the wounds. A loud rumble of thunder echoed through the valley outside his shelter and he struggled to resist the reflex to hit the ground at the sound.
Once his heartbeat subsided, he realized he was in his hunting blind. The time display on his cell phone showed it was well into the afternoon. He’d dozed off while waiting for a deer to wander into the clearing outside his hidey hole.
Outside the shelter snow fell. Large flakes already blanketed the ground, the wind catching them into swirling eddies. The sky loomed dark and foreboding, an ominous signal of worse weather to come. As much as he loved hunting in the snow, he’d be a fool to stay out in it this late in the day.
“What a bust,” he muttered, clambering out of the camouflaged tent. He quickly cleared the loose brush that disguised his hiding place, collapsed the blind, and slung it over his shoulders. Nothing to show for his early rising, he hiked through the snowy woods back toward his truck.
Halfway back to the road, something bounded past through the trees, sending a thrill through him. He
stopped, standing stock still, eyes searching the shadows in the dwindling winter light.
The shape was barely visible past a snow-covered thicket. The doe’s dark eyes peered around, hot breath billowing from her nostrils. She was beautiful. And soon dead, if he had his way.
He extracted his bow from his back with incremental slowness, nocked an arrow, and aimed.
The doe’s eyes blinked, her long lashes visible even from this distance.
Stay right there, pretty girl.
The taut bowstring cut into his gloved fingers as he pulled it back. His vision tunneled, focusing on the spot just behind her shoulder. At that second she turned her head and stared right at him, her soft, brown ears twitching.
For the first time in his life, he hesitated. The creature stood gazing at him for a split second longer, then bounded away, kicking up tufts of snow in her wake.
Inexplicably shaken by the experience, he lowered his bow and stowed the arrow, his hands trembling. Cursing at himself for his ineptitude, he trudged the remaining distance to the road, head-first into the snowy wind until he reached the safety of his truck.
He drove slowly, but halfway up the steep incline leading to the main road his wheels began to spin.
“Shit.”
The snow clung thickly to his boots when he stepped out to survey the extent of his predicament. Mud clung so high to the large tires of his dually, nothing but a tow truck with a winch could manage to pull him out. No cell signal, so forget calling for help. Waiting out the storm was probably suicidal. That left him with one choice.
The luxury resort, Liberty Springs Lodge was probably a mile as the crow flies, maybe two on foot. He’d just have to hoof it and hope the impending blizzard didn’t kick into full gear before he got there. He grabbed his essentials and got moving.
While he walked his mind churned. Normally a good kill was the only thing that could help him sleep at night, a fact he hadn’t learned until the nightmares began after his honorable discharge from the Navy four years earlier.
His last relationship had ended twenty-four hours ago, over the dreams, no less. His now ex-girlfriend had only been the most recent in a series of failed intimate connections, and he took the blame for all of them.
Sleep would be a bitch tonight, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
“You’re a fucking mess,” he muttered as he trudged west through the snowy woods, icy twilight trailing close behind him.
The massive, sprawling structure of the lodge came into view after an hour of walking. Numb to his core, he stumbled down the final slope, drawn in by the inviting glow of the lodge’s windows. It’d probably cost him a pretty penny to stay here even for one night, but it was a damn sight better than freezing to death in his truck.
***
In spite of the warm glow the rum left in her belly, Justine shivered, overcome by memories. If she and Zach had been here together, they would go to dinner and get too distracted by their conversation to study the menu. When the waitress arrived. Zach would order a salad, she’d order a steak and try to ignore his disapproving look.
“You’ll die young eating that stuff,” he’d said to her too many times. “Red meat’s carcinogenic.”
That was early on in their relationship before he relented and left her to pollute her body as she saw fit. After enough wine, neither of them ever cared much what the other had eaten. They’d probably sit talking about high-minded issues—politics or the economy—then head back to their room, put on some music, drink more wine, and make love.
When Zach was alive they’d argued about so many things. In the heat of their volleys she’d call him an elitist bastard, he’d call her an idealist whore. They’d degenerate to the point of vitriolic cursing and slamming doors. But they’d always make up wordlessly later on in the dark. At least the one thing they’d never argued about was sex.
She stared into the twilight. Off in the distance a solitary shadow moved through the trees on the edge of the lodge’s property, almost completely obscured by the driving snow. Seeing the lonely figure out in the cold, its isolation a mirror to her own loneliness, caused the grief to surge again. Her chest tightened. The heat of the room began to feel constricting, just like the beginning of past panic attacks she’d endured ever since Zach had died. She hadn’t had one in months, though.
She chugged the remainder of her drink, then stood and strode out, resisting the urge to break into a dead run to escape those feelings yet again. The tempestuous icy cold outside beckoned to her. She was done running from those feelings; a shock to the system was what she needed now.
She headed for the side door that led to the expansive back deck of the lodge. When she reached the door it opened abruptly and a large, snow-rimed figure filled the space. Too absorbed in her need for escape, she smacked into him and let out an indignant curse.
Once she regained her footing, she stared up into a pair of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen, set deep in a face mostly obscured by a balaclava. Large hands steadied her and the blue orbs stared back, equally surprised at the sudden collision. She tore her gaze away and shoved past, stomping out into the snow.
“Lady, you don’t want to be out in that shit, trust me,” the man called after her. His deep voice irritated her, but not nearly as much as his look had disconcerted her for a moment before the icy blast of air reminded her of her purpose.
“Mind your own damn business!” she shot back, giving him one cursory glance and noting his khaki camouflage and what appeared to be a bow strapped to his back. The impression of a modern-day Robin Hood lingered for a second before she shook it off and trudged down a path almost completely obscured by snowdrifts.
She found her way to a sheltered bench that rested in the glow of the lodge’s high windows and sat, taking deep breaths and letting the thoughts flow freely, hoping they might die of exposure and leave her in peace.
Her marriage to Zach had never been perfect. It had been downright volatile at times, but they’d loved each other in spite of their differences. She’d even considered leaving him on a couple occasions, but stayed because of their mutual love for the business they’d built together. After a year of struggling with the inability to reconcile her grief with her frustration over their personal conflicts, she was at a loss. She was moving forward with this new job, but was she truly leaving him behind? Should she?
Overwhelmed with frustration, she screamed into the blizzard until her throat hurt, letting the tears fall unchecked, the warmth of them on her cold cheeks a stark reminder of how fervently she wished she could shake her lingering despair.
***
Jake stood watching the small, figure stalk through the gray, snowy light. He’d met her eyes for an inexplicably inflated second while she passed by him, just before she cursed at him and broke that small bubble of intimacy. But in that moment when they held each other’s gazes, his world had shifted the same as it had when he’d met the doe’s eyes in the woods earlier.
“Crazy woman,” he muttered, eyeing her bare head of lush brown waves. He shook off the need to go after her and stomped his snow-caked boots inside the entrance before heading over to the check-in counter.
“Well if it isn’t Jake Hearn,” the pretty blond behind the counter said. “I can’t give you a discount, you know. We’re not dating anymore.”
“Abby, just give me a room. Even if my truck wasn’t stuck up on Miller Hill, I’m homeless as of last night. This was the closest place in five miles so I could give a rat’s ass if it costs a month’s rent for two nights. It beats freezing to death.”
Abby’s demeanor immediately became sympathetic and she nodded. “Homeless, huh? Was it the bad dreams this time? Or just another hunting trip Renee didn’t agree to?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
“She was never good enough for you.”
“Yeah, and you were always too good. I know.” The words felt like cold gravel in his throat.
“No hard feelings?�
� she asked.
“Nah.” His voice betrayed the weariness he felt down to his bones. “It was good while it lasted.”
“For what it’s worth, you deserve to be happy,” Abby said, handing him his keycard.
“Thanks.” He picked up his backpack and started up the stairs, but stopped again and glanced toward the door separating him from what was proving to be one of the worst snow storms of the season so far. He hesitated, then cursed under his breath.
“How long has she been here?” he asked, hooking a thumb toward the door.
“Just checked in today.”
“Alone?”
“You know I can’t share guest details with you, but yeah. She’s solo.”
“Watch my stuff for a sec, will you? I’ve gotta go do something.”
Abby shook her head. “You can’t save everyone, Jake. It’s sweet when you try, but it doesn’t do you any good in the long run.”
He shot her a wide grin. “Guess I’m just addicted to being the hero,” he called over the howling wind before pulling his balaclava back over his face and heading out into the biting cold again.
He found her huddled on a bench, staring out over the frozen lake. Now seated and curled into herself, she seemed smaller than she had after barreling into him at the door. A long, delicate nose tapered to a graceful point above her pursed lips. She had a stubborn set to her narrow jaw. Wisps of her dark-brown hair blew in the wind. When he got close he heard a sniffle—not uncommon in this weather, but when accompanied by frozen tears it was a different story.
“Suicide by exposure’s not a bad choice, if that’s what you’re going for,” he said.
She jumped a couple inches at the sound of his voice and turned her tear-streaked face to look up at him. She was even prettier head-on than from the side.
“W-what did you say?” Her chattering teeth made it difficult for her to get the words out.
