Shelter from the Storm

by Molly Wens

  "I'm a horrible person, Skoll. I said terrible things to him,” Carissa told the confused dog as she pulled herself to her feet on the rocking floor. “I hope he forgives me. He just has to."

  Carissa pulled a tin out of the cupboard and found one stale biscuit inside, nibbling at it as she made her way back to the main room. So many fears crawled through her dizzy mind. She needed prenatal care but none was to be had in the wilderness. Things had to be patched up with Bryce, but she wondered if he would even give a damn after how she had behaved. Would she be able to convince him to leave here and be a father to his child? There were so many questions and so few answers.

  The hours ticked slowly by into days of pacing and restlessness. It seemed she was constantly on the verge of tears or struggling against the same nausea that had accompanied her first two pregnancies. She had slept on the big bed, warmed by Bryce's scent that still clung to the sheets. She had cleaned the cabin and read from his library of books—leaving untouched on the bedside table the book that Bryce had been reading—to keep occupied, but the boredom and anticipation of his return were eating away at her mind. Still, she had what she hoped would be a wonderful surprise when he returned. She held onto that one slim chance that he would make the choice to leave with her, giving her the calm to while away the empty time.

  On the afternoon of the third day, she heard a strange noise outside the cabin. She had just had her second round of morning sickness when she saw Skoll clawing at the bottom of the door, growling low in his throat. “What is it, boy?” she asked as she peered out the window. “It sounds like an engine. I think someone's out there."

  The noise drew closer, a flash of bright sunshine on metal twinkled through the trees, such a strange sight after so long seeing only that which the vast wilderness offered. Carissa's pulse picked up speed as the flashes of reflected light slowly took shape, winding in and out of the shadows of the forest. She could not imagine who this stranger could be but images of the two evil men who had kidnapped her speared her mind. Could they have been searching for her, finding her at last while she was alone and vulnerable? Skoll seemed to echo her thoughts with the escalating agitation she could hear in his constant growls.

  Carissa bolted the door and shuttered the windows before reaching for the shotgun that adorned the wall above the mantle. She briskly loaded the gun, laid it carefully on the bed, and rummaged through the old chest-of-drawers for more suitable clothing than the over-sized shirt she wore. She dressed hurriedly in a pair of long johns, sweatshirt, socks and the soft, warm moccasins that Bryce had made for her. Taking up the gun again and watching through the diamond-shaped opening in the shutters, she waited for the vehicle to pull up in front of the cabin.

  It was a snowmobile with a single rider—a man—on it. The man was dressed in what appeared to be a heavy black parka and snow pants with a day-glow orange vest over the parka. He shut off the vehicle and dismounted, looking around almost warily. The man seemed to have an unmistakable air of authority in the way he carried himself. She saw something shiny on the left front of his vest as he walked up the shoveled pathway that led to the porch steps. The object could only be described as a badge of some sort, a realization that helped calm her a little. She still did not move to open the shutters or the door, waiting, instead, to see what would happen next. As he came more fully into view, she could see the unmistakable handgun strapped into a holster on his hip.

  "Carissa James!” the voice of the man yelled. “Are you in there? U.S. Park Service, ma'am. I'm here to get you out."

  She remained where she was, her hand still clutching the shotgun. Skoll's growls turned to deadly snarls as the man stepped up onto the wood planks of the porch.

  "Ms. James, U.S. Park Service. I know you're in there. It's okay. You're perfectly safe now. Just open the door."

  "How did you find me?” she yelled back.

  "We got the call from Lewis McAlester up near Mount Hunt. Said that Bryce Matheney was holed up with a missing woman. Now, why don't you open the door so we don't have to shout?"

  Unsure of herself, Carissa waited for a moment before ordering Skoll silent. She maintained her grip on the gun as she slid the door's bolt open and stepped back. “Come in,” she told the man.

  The ranger opened the door cautiously, pushing against the rough wood until it swung fully open to reveal a disheveled woman leveling a large shotgun on his midsection. He froze his steps and slowly raised his hands. “Now, Carissa, you just put that gun down. You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you. See my badge? I'm Ranger Doug Smith and I'm here to help."

  She studied his face for a moment, seeing the calm of a man who was trained to handle such situations and take control of them. Turning the gun away without relinquishing it, she took another step back, shushing the dog again when she heard his low warning growl. She motioned him inside out of the winter chill and told to close the door.

  "You are Carissa James, are you not?” he asked quietly.

  She nodded before she spoke. “How did you find out about me, again?"

  "We got a radio communiqué from Lewis McAlester. He said that Matheney had a kidnapped woman up here."

  "I don't know McAlester and Bryce didn't kidnap me. He saved my life."

  "You're fortunate, Ms. James. Matheney is a dangerous man. We've been looking for you for some time. We'd given you up for dead after your car was found buried in the snow. Look, there's a US Park Police helicopter waiting for you. It gets dark up here fast so we better get going."

  Carissa knew a small amount of panic. How could she leave right now? How could she not leave and miss the opportunity to get back home to her children? “I can't leave just yet. I need to wait for Bryce. He should be back by tomorrow or the next day."

  "Ma'am, it was Matheney who had McAlester radio in. He knows that we are coming to get you. McAlester's place is a long way from here and I doubt that Matheney will make it back any time soon. We really have to get going."

  Stunned, Carissa sank into the old rocker, the loaded gun nearly slipping from her fingers. Her body trembled as the implication of the ranger's words hit home. Bryce no longer wanted her in his home or his life, had risked much and traveled far just to be rid of her. She looked up as Smith carefully took the weapon from her hands and unloaded it.

  "I guess,” she uttered shakily, “I can be ready in just a moment."

  "I'll wait while you gather your things,” he said kindly.

  "That's okay. I ... nothing here belongs to me. I don't even have anything to wear.” The pain of hot, bitter tears pricked behind her eyes but she refused to let them loose. Bryce had left her, abandoned her to return to her own life without him. She wanted to be angry, to hate him for what his actions were saying but her heart was broken and there was only room for the anguish.

  "We were told you would need appropriate clothing. I have a snowsuit for you outside. I'll be right back.” The ranger walked back outside leaving Carissa alone with her sorrow.

  She walked through the cabin, touching various items in the dim room, the sound of his voice playing those words endlessly in her brain: “I love you. You are my whole world.” How could he have said that, felt that way, then just leave her without a word? Her hand fell upon the novel he had been reading that was still sitting by the bed. She picked it up, clutching it to her breast while she fought back the tears that now filled her eyes.

  There was a knock at the door, pulling her out of her reverie. Skoll lowered his head, growling at the intruding ranger as the man opened the door.

  "Skoll, quiet,” Carissa said softly, bringing the dog to silence. She looked up at the ranger. “What about the dog? I can't just leave him with no one to look out for him."

  "Ms. James, that dog is as tough as this wilderness. He'll be just fine until his owner gets back. Here's the snowsuit. We better get moving.” Smith laid the warm suit on the bed and stepped back. “If you want me to wait outside while you get dressed..."

  "No, that's okay,�
� she answered as she stared at the book in her hands. “Hang on a minute; I need to leave a note. Let me find something to write with.” She disappeared into the kitchen, taking the book and the suit with her. When she returned, she was fully clothed, still holding the book. After making up the bed, she placed the book on the pillow where Bryce normally laid his head. She banked the fire on the hearth and closed the screen, careful that no errant embers had escaped. With one last glance around the cozy, rustic cabin where she had found a brief moment of happiness, she turned to the ranger and said, “Let's go."

  The ranger opened the door and was nearly knocked to the floor as Skoll bounded out of the cabin at a dead run. Carissa ran out onto the porch calling after the dog, but he disappeared into the trees. She could hear his excited woofs from a distance, echoing back up to her through the clear mountain air.

  "I can't just leave him out there,” Carissa told Smith.

  "Ms. James, that dog will do just fine. It's getting late. We really have to go.” Ranger Smith mounted the waiting snowmobile and fired up the motor.

  With one last glance in the direction the dog had taken Carissa closed the cabin door and joined the ranger, straddling the seat behind him. She buried her face in the back of the man's parka, squeezing her eyes shut against the urge to turn around one last time. With each passing minute and each mile that took her farther from Bryce's home, the pain in her chest grew until it threatened to choke the life out of her.

  The snowmobile came to a halt in a large clearing as the sun was dropping low in the sky. Smith pulled a radio mic out of his parka and spoke quickly, presumably calling the afore-mentioned helicopter, but Carissa, lost in her own misery, paid little attention. Soon there was the unmistakable air-chopping noise of her new mode of transportation, which landed some yards from them, kicking up snow all around. Carissa was all but thrown into a seat, strapped down and then lifted into the air and off the mountain that had been her prison and her home these many weeks. The rest of her trip was a blur, lost in the pain of her broken heart and the loneliness that had come to envelop her soul, but she was finally going home.

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  Chapter 15

  "More tea, Ms. James?"

  Carissa was staring out the window at the striated cloudbank below, lost in her own inner world, and did not hear the woman. When the question was repeated, Carissa's misty eyes turned away from the window in confusion. She glanced up to see the flight attendant with her drink cart smiling at her expectantly, awaiting an answer.

  "Hmm? Oh, no, thank you,” she told the attendant before turning back to the window to further contemplate all that had happened to her life in the past two months. She was thinking of Bryce, wondering if he had made it home safely. Had he found her note? Did he care? She watched the mountains that were still visible through the breaks in the clouds. She had been in the air only a short time, but felt as though it had been forever. Another wave of sadness washed over her and exited her body in the form of a plaintive sigh.

  "Okay,” a masculine voice said. “That's your tenth sigh since we left the ground. Are you all right, miss?"

  Carissa turned again to see the man sitting next to her. He was young and handsome with dark hair, blue eyes and an impish grin. It was easy to see that he probably had young women falling at his feet wherever he went, but Carissa was completely unaffected by his charm. A giant with smoldering gray eyes and a damaged soul had stolen her heart.

  "I'm sorry,” she smiled politely at him. “I didn't mean to disturb you."

  "You didn't. I was just wondering if there was anything I could do to help,” he said hopefully. “I hate to see a beautiful woman in distress."

  He was flirting with her; she could see that, though she wondered how anyone could find her attractive enough to bother with. The ill-fitting clothing she was wearing had been donated to her by the wife of the sheriff of Teton County, Wyoming. Her dry, frizzy hair was begging for a trip to the beautician and her pale face had not seen makeup or moisturizer in nearly two months. On top of it, she was feeling ill and the bucking of the small Embraer commuter aircraft on the air currents was not helping at all.

  She smiled at the sincerity that she saw in his face. “I'm all right, really. Just feeling a bit airsick."

  "Is this your first time in a plane?"

  The question reminded her of the last time she had flown—the trip that had forever changed her life. “No,” she said as she turned back to the window. “I flew to Wyoming two months ago on business. Now I'm going home, finally. I can't wait to get there."

  "You don't look like you're anxious to get home. You look more like you wish you didn't have to leave."

  "You're wrong,” she stated softly, adamantly, without turning to face him again. “I'm glad to be seeing the back side of this place. If I never see another mountain as long as I live it will be too soon."

  The man returned to his newspaper, glancing at the pictures and the words and wondering if he had offended the pretty woman next to the window. A headline caught his attention, causing him to address her again. “The stewardess called you, Ms. James. Are you Carissa James, the one who was missing in the Tetons?"

  Carissa sighed again, wishing the damned media people had just left her alone, instead of shoving their cameras in her face and chasing her around the little community of Jackson, Wyoming. “Yes, that's me.” Did the whole world need to know what had happened to her?

  "Wow,” he said with a low whistle. “You're a lucky woman. That Bryce Matheney is a dangerous man. He killed his own wife, you know. He got off on some technicality, but he shoulda got the death penalty. I grew up in these parts and I remember when that happened. He's one evil bastard."

  Carissa was furious with the irritating man and his vicious comments. “You don't know what the fuck you're talking about,” she ground out through clenched teeth, turning to fix him with a near-lethal glare. “He risked his life to save me and get me home. Does that sound like the actions of a killer? It's no wonder he doesn't want anything to do with you pious assholes.” She turned back to the window, completely ignoring the young man and the startled look on his handsome face.

  Everywhere she had been in the days following her extrication from the Teton Mountains, it had been the same story. People had marveled at her ability to survive with such a horrible beast as Bryce Matheney. He had been called a murderer, a blight on society who had killed his own wife in cold blood. Some even said that he had caused the accident in a murder/suicide scheme because he thought she was having an affair. They said that the scars on his face had been put there by the Almighty, as a fitting punishment, branding him a killer for all to see.

  A very select few people had actually been sympathetic to the man, claiming to have known his family and him since he was a child. None of those people, however, was willing to stand up for him against the popular opinion that he was a monster that needed to die a horrible death.

  Carissa had cried when alone, wanting to turn to him, to tell him that it would be all right, that she would make it all right for him, but he was not there. She had failed to convince him that what they felt for one another was strong enough to defeat the stigma that had been attached to his name and his life. Not even the note she had left him had been enough to bring him down out of his refuge and back to her.

  Now, sitting in the cramped plane that was taking her from his world, bitter tears flowed freely, silently sliding down her face and falling on the second-hand sweater she wore. Another piece of her heart broke off, amplifying the pain in her chest and the impotent anger she felt toward the people of Jackson Hole, Grand Teton National Park and anyplace else where they sat in judgment of the man she loved. She wordlessly cursed them all to the same hell to which they had all wished to condemn him.

  She thought again about the whirlwind of questions and shutter clicks that had swamped her when the helicopter had landed at Jackson Hole Airport near the little town that was Jackson, Wyoming. The
name of it barely registered in her memory as the place where she had been headed at the start of that fateful business trip. She had been hustled from the aircraft and into a police car that took her to the sheriff's office. Reporters and camera crews followed, just a small group that only proved to be the start of a major media feeding frenzy. Even the tabloids had gotten in on the story, the fact that she was holed up with a dark giant of a man with a reputation for violence had only added fuel to the fire of their need for more scandalous stories.

  Mike Claire, the CEO himself, of Claire-Smith Broadcasting, Incorporated had heard the story on CNN and had contacted her at the Teton County Sheriff's office. He had expressed his “heart-felt joy” at finding out that one of their “most valued employees” had been located, stating that the company had spared no expense in trying to find her after her disappearance. Carissa had her own ideas on what they had actually done to locate her, but had kept her mouth shut and thanked the man politely. He had told her that she would be fully compensated for the incident. The company would take good care of her and see to it that her family would have everything they needed to help in her return home.

  Yeah, right, she thought. He just doesn't want his precious company sued for having put her in that dangerous situation. She also wondered how they could think that they could possibly compensate her for the time lost with her children and the hell they must have been through without their mother.

  She fully intended to take him up on his offer, however, if she needed to hire legal representation to fight her ex-husband. Her numerous conversations over the phone with her mother had confirmed her fears that John was trying to take her children. She would fight him tooth and nail to keep that from happening, no matter the cost.

  The sounds of the voices of her children were almost enough to push her over the edge when she was finally able to speak to them. She had been enraged, however, when a camera crew from her own TV station had ambushed her family, putting footage of her children on national television for all the world to see. Her poor babies had looked so frightened when she saw the news segment on her hotel room set, and she had wanted to wrap herself around them, shielding them from the traumatic event. She had decided that the first free minute she got, once back home, she would let news director Christopher Davidson have it with both barrels.