THE HEALING HEART

by Zelda Clemens

  “You undressed me in the dark?”

  “Does it not make you feel less…um…viole? Violated?”

  “Maybe,” I conceded. “But how do I know you’re telling the truth?”

  “You don’t.” He surprised me with his simple reply. “You must learn to trust me. Here.” He handed me my t-shirt and bra. I pulled the blankets up to my neck and dressed as best I could. “These also.” He held up a pair of dark blue sweatpants. They were probably two sizes too big.

  “You will need the extra room,” he explained. “For the bandages, yes?”

  I sighed. “Yes, that makes sense.” As we’d talked, the sharp sting of pain had faded from my leg. I didn’t move, for fear of setting it off again, but I was desperately keen to put a layer of clothing between my lower body and the man, who still hadn’t introduced himself.

  “Are you a doctor?” I asked.

  “I was. A long time ago.”

  “And where is this place?” I glanced around the small room. “Where am I?”

  “A secluded chalet, on my land.”

  I frowned. “How secluded, exactly?”

  “You need not feel threatened, Mademoiselle. It is secluded, not for the purposes of seduction, but for solitude.”

  “You don’t enjoy company?”

  His smile was sad, wistful. “Shall we say…company does not enjoy me?”

  “Hmm…okay.” An urgent need alerted me to a new problem. “I need to use the bathroom.” Damn. Of all the times…

  He stroked his chin. “You should not need…ah, I see. The bag is full.”

  “What bag? Oh, no…” I gazed in dismay at the urine-filled bag hanging from the side of the bed. A catheter bag. I reached down, and sure enough, a small plastic tube lay between my legs. I sagged back onto the bed in dismay. So much for my dignity.

  “Now you are awake, I can remove this. But with your leg still damaged, you may find difficulty—”

  “Take the damn thing out!”

  “Should I switch off the lights?”

  I rolled my eyes. “What’s the point? You didn’t switch them off to fit it, did you?”

  “Of course not. It would have been dangerous.”

  I threw an arm over my eyes. “Go on, then. Let’s get this over with.”

  “If you are certain.” He moved closer, pulling on a pair of protective gloves. The blankets were lifted from my lower half and I groaned as cool air touched my most intimate parts.

  “Oh my god…”

  *****

  It was a huge relief to have the catheter out. My cheeks burned at the thought of him seeing more of me than any man ever had. After he’d slid the plastic tube from me, he offered to help me finish dressing. I declined, insisting I’d manage just fine.

  Without seeming offended, he left the room, and I tried to scrape together the last remains of my dignity. Pulling the sweatpants on was a huge struggle. Every joint ached and every muscle burned as I tried to throw the pants toward the toes of my bandaged leg, while still holding onto the waistband. After ten minutes, I dropped the pants onto the floor, wriggled my bad foot onto the pooled fabric, and then did the same with my good foot. Once there, I used my good toes to snag the waistband and pull the pants high enough to reach them with my outstretched fingers. By the time I’d pulled them into place, tears were rolling down my cheeks and I wondered why I hadn’t allowed my nameless benefactor to help. He’d already seen me naked, worse than naked, actually. What else did I have to lose?

  Walking was tough, too. My body protested and demanded I go back to bed. Not a chance. I wanted to be up and about, and figure out where I was in the world. It had also occurred to me to wonder if we were the only ones here. If so, where was the rest of my party? Had Sonny and Ray survived the avalanche? Were they even now scouring the mountainside for me, or were they relaxing in the next room, ready to mock the indignities I’d suffered?

  The living room was empty. Even my ‘former doctor’ friend was missing. He couldn’t be far away, because a healthy log fire was blazing in the hearth, heating my cheeks even from twenty feet away. The living room was large, and appeared to be at the center of the house, with at least two doors on every wall.

  “Welcome. Please…sit.” His voice startled me from my musing.

  “Ah…I need to ask something.”

  “Bien sur. Please.”

  “I was climbing with four other people. Their names are Sonny—”

  “Je suis desole. I found no others. You were alone.”

  “But they must be out there! Where are my boots? I need to find them!”

  “Mademoiselle, you must be calm. You cannot help them.”

  “Why not? What’s happened—”

  “You have been in my care for almost ten days.”

  “Ten days?” I stared at him in disbelief.

  “So they are found, or they will not be found.”

  “Wait a minute, where was I found?”

  “The avalanche carried you onto the glacier. You were fortunate to survive the fall.”

  “And that’s where you found me? Only me?” They couldn’t be gone, surely.

  “Only you. I am sorry about your friends.” His face brightened. “Perhaps they are well and have returned home?”

  “I can only hope.” I wondered if my friends were still scouring the mountain, trying to find me. “Do you have a telephone?”

  “Alas, no. This is a remote region.”

  “Internet?”

  He smiled. “I am isolated from the world. But perhaps when you are better healed, I can escort you to Chamonix?”

  “Is it still light outside? Maybe you could take me there today?”

  “It would be an overnight walk through deep snow.”

  “A walk?” I stared. “You don’t have a car either, do you?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps you would care for some tea?”

  “Coffee. Do you have coffee?” My heart leapt at the notion. How long had it been since I’d had caffeine? Ten days? More?

  “But of course. You Americans and your coffee.”

  “Hey, I’m Canadian.”

  “”Which is better than being American? Or worse? You are quick to make the distinction.”

  It was my turn to shrug. “Being different is what keeps us doing crazy stuff.”

  “Such as climbing mountains when the avalanche warning is in force?”

  “The Gendarme hadn’t closed the route, not at that point.”

  “They closed it immediately afterwards, though.”

  “That’s to be expected. Hey…”

  “Yes?” He raised an eyebrow at my verbal swerve.

  “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Monsieur White. Ashley, if you prefer.”

  I extended my hand. “April Depardieu.”

  “So how does this happen?” He seemed genuinely shocked.

  “What? How does what happen?”

  “That your name is more French than mine…and yet I am French, for the most part.” We both pondered that oddity for a moment, before he remembered the coffee.

  “So where exactly are we, Ashley?”

  “The Savoie Mont Blanc nature reserve,” he called from the kitchen area. “Part of it, anyway.”

  “Do you see much of the wildlife?”

  “Every day. It is one of my tasks to monitor and maintain the numbers of the Ibex.”

  “Interesting job. Do you see many Chamois?”

  “It is inevitable.” He turned to face me, wiping his hands on a towel. “There are almost six thousand of them in the region.”

  “But how do you follow them in the snow? They’re fast, aren’t they?”

  He tapped the side of his nose. “I have special skills.”

  “Sure.” I didn’t ask. If he chose to be mysterious, then fine. I watched as he busied himself beside a black-and-chrome coffee maker. I smiled as he produced a small jug of cream. No powdered milk for Monsieur White, then. I wondered where he got his
supplies from, since we were apparently so removed from civilization.

  *****

  Ashley was the perfect host, bringing me everything I could wish for, aside from contact with the outside world. It was his way, he said. He preferred to remain apart from humanity and live life in his own way. I thought it was odd for him to refer to humans as if he wasn’t one of them. While I drank my coffee and ate the curiously fresh pastries that accompanied it, Ashley excused himself.

  “I must cut some more wood.” He nodded at the blazing hearth. “To keep us warm.”

  “Of course.” He’d caught me in mid-bite. I wiped the flakes of pastry from my lips, feeling like a clumsy child.

  “You injury. Does it hurt?”

  I shifted my leg and an electric jolt of pain blasted through it. Idiot. Why had I moved? I’d forgotten all about the break until he asked.

  “When I have finished with the wood, I will prepare another injection. He glanced at the window. It will be dark soon, so I must complete this.”

  His phrasing struck me as peculiar. “Does it have to be dark before you can inject?”

  “I must finish with the wood, and bring it indoors before darkness…visits?”

  “Arrives.”

  “Of course.”

  “Well, don’t stand around on my account. Chop, chop!” I smiled, but he seemed confused by my joke. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain it later.”

  “Of course. I would be very grateful.”

  He slipped past the heavy door and pulled it closed. I shivered as the Alpine draught reached me, and adjusted the blanket he’d provided. I was reclining on a sofa. It could have been a chaise lounge. I wasn’t certain. But it was comfortable and I was wonderfully relaxed. Whatever blend of coffee he used, I wanted the recipe. The opposite of stimulating, it infused me with warmth, and eliminated all the tightness, and most of the aches, from my muscles. After a few moments, I struggled to keep my eyes open, blinking hard to keep myself in the here and now.

  But I soon gave up the fight, and as darkness colored the windows black I drifted into a thankfully dreamless sleep, disturbed only occasionally by a sharp crack from the fireplace as a pocket of resin exploded.

  ~

  I awoke to the smell of cooking. My stomach rumbled insistently, urging me to wakefulness, so I could track down the hopefully satisfying repast.

  “Ashley?” I murmured as I stretched. The ache in my leg had faded, although I’d no idea if that was due to the welcome rest, or a mid-slumber injection courtesy of my host.

  I lowered my splinted leg to the floor, tensed for pain, but something was working effectively. I felt no discomfort, which was peculiar, considering I’d broken a bone. It occurred to me he’d never explained if it was my tibia, or fibula I’d snapped. It didn’t matter, not right away. I had bigger issues to confront. I was hungry, and the smell of cooking was driving me to distraction.

  I called for Ashley again, but there was no reply. Either he was ignoring me, or I truly was alone. Strange, considering his fervent wish to be indoors before nightfall. I checked the windows were still dark, in case I’d slept through the night and into morning.

  As I shuffled closer to the sturdy wooden table, a large piece of paper caught my eye.

  “Before you sit down, check outside the front door.”

  “Okayyy…” I was glad he’d forewarned me. I’d have been annoyed if I’d made the trip across to the table, only to be sent away again. As it was, the front door was close to where I stood.

  He’d left me ice cream. On the doorstep. It was still in a plastic tub, presumably so the local wildlife wouldn’t enjoy it before I could. Some assembly required, then. I closed the door, intending to leave the dessert in its natural freezer until I was ready to eat it. No sense in it melting in the heat from the merrily-blazing fire, was there?

  I resumed my determined course toward the table. A chrome-plated cover sat on a dinner plate, which was resting on a warmer. Four small candles supplied a gentle heat to whatever was beneath. I steadied myself on the back of a chair and lifted the lid, which was surprisingly hot. Delicious aromas swirled past me in a cloud of aromatic steam. I inhaled deeply, relishing the first hot food I’d eaten in…ten days, Ashley had said. How he’d managed to feed me in all that time was a mystery. Hopefully, I’d get the chance to ask him, wherever he’d disappeared to.

  I considered waiting for him, but my stomach was impatient. My mouth watered and after only a second of hesitation, I lifted the plate, careful to protect my hands with napkins, and set it down. Utensils had been laid out and a dark bottle of wine tempted me. I was too hungry to think about wine, though, and it would have been a bad idea on an empty stomach. No, perhaps later.

  I began eating, sighing happily with each mouthful. The stew was delicious, and gamey, and was accompanied by carrot, onions and red cabbage, all of which had absorbed the flavor of the meat. I guessed the stew had marinated for many hours for the vegetables to become so tasty and soft. I actually started laughing, because the meal was so fulfilling.

  “Compliments to the chef!” I called to the apparently empty chalet. After a minute’s pause, I opened the wine, allowing it to warm in the glass. I was glad I’d waited. The wine was dark, but still translucent, and delivered hints of pine and cherries. The perfect choice for the meal…whatever kind of beast had laid down so I could enjoy eating it.

  Once I’d finished, I was thoroughly full. Not having eaten a full meal in over a week had reduced my capacity somewhat. I decided to wait before attempting dessert. So I hobbled back to the sofa, somehow managing not to spill the wine over the rug. As I sipped the warming red, I considered my situation. Somehow, I’d have to get word to the outside world. Mom and Dad would be frantic, and my sister would be in tears. She’d frequently warned me against foolish pursuits such as mountaineering and skiing. But I was the adventurous one of the family, and couldn’t escape my calling. And look where it had landed me. In an isolated chalet, cut off from the world. But I’d been hit by an avalanche, and lived to tell the tale. I prayed the rest of the team had been as fortunate.

  I hoped a similar fate hadn’t overcome Ashley. Why so keen to finish cutting wood before dark, and then vanish into what was clearly late evening, or even night?

  My eyes began to droop and I hard-blinked them open. The warming fire combined with my contented stomach and rich wine was conspiring to put me to sleep again. I’d already slept enough, I figured. Time for some ice cream. I levered my reluctant body upright and headed for the door. Oddly, it seemed further away this time. Maybe the room was bigger. No, how could that be? I was drunk, that was all. Or the wine and the painkillers were mixing. My head spun pleasantly, not helping my balance in the least. I debated to wisdom of returning to the sofa, but the thought of Alpine-chilled ice cream intrigued me.

  I managed to reach the door without falling. The warm light that flooded past me contrasted sharply with the stark monochromatic Alpine darkness, inky blackness above stark white. The plastic tub of ice cream was still there, surrounded by tiny footprints, no doubt made by inquisitive nocturnal critters. Using the door handle to steady myself, I bent to pick up the tub and was startled to see a different set of prints, much larger than the others.

  They were human. They were barefoot.

  ~

  I stared, unable to believe my eyes. The bare feet were larger than my own, and could only have been made by one person, one man.

  Ashley.

  But why the hell would he go outside without any boots on his feet? I extended my injured foot, not wanting to put my weight on it, and placed my foot inside the first print. It was half as big again. No doubt, whatsoever.

  “Ashley?” I called. My worst fear was that he might by lying out in the cold, unable to move or call out to me. “Ashley, are you out there?” Only the soft crackling sounds of a sub-zero night answered my calls. Nervous, I moved back inside, wondering what to do next. The cold wasn’t helping my leg, neither was hobbling a
bout on it. I closed the door, but left it unbolted, in case Ashley returned. What had happened to him?

  I returned to the sofa and huddled beneath the blanket, cradling the glass of wine. I’d completely forgotten the ice cream, having lost the urge. Maybe this barefoot walking was a regular thing for him. Maybe he did it every night. Why should he face any problems tonight?

  It was still a weird thing to do, but if he lived out here alone, he was well aware of the dangers. I could only hope he didn’t come to any harm, because I would be in a whole load of trouble if he disappeared.

  “Stop worrying, April. He’ll be fine.”

  The distant howl of a wolf shattered my optimism. I groaned. One more thing to worry about, being eaten by wolves. Great. Now I would be up all night fretting.

  *****

  I woke up with a sudden start, disoriented and in a panic. The snow had been crushing me, pressing down hard, stopping my breathing. But someone had been digging down, scratching at the snow, until the dim whiteness brightened. I dared to hope someone would find me. They must have known I was there, or why would they be digging right above where I lay? I tried to be patient, but the snow pressed in on me, stoking my fears. The scrabbling noise grew louder, and closer. I didn’t know what my rescuer was using, but it was quick. The light grew stronger, dazzling me. The snow above my face vanished. Scrabbling paws tore open a hole. Daylight flooded in.

  And a huge wolf stared down at me.

  “No, no, what? Get away, get away!” I lashed out with my arms, but connected with nothing. I pressed myself back, trying to escape the creature, but when my eyes snapped open, the snow was gone.

  The room was empty.

  Breathless and shaking, I stared around, putting the pieces together. The avalanche had been real. I’d been swept away, buried, but I remembered nothing of my rescue. The distorted dream had come from my imagination, surely, unless a rescue team had used a search dog to dig me out.

  But if that was the case, where were they? Why was I in an isolated lodge, with I-walk-barefoot-in-the-snow Ashley?