by LoRee Peery
Careless woman! Out here in a dangerous blizzard all by yourself.
Beth wondered if something was broken. Her chest hurt. Her mind was all muzzy. Tears mingled with snow, melting, then icy on her cheeks.
Finally, she gasped. Mental faculties returned, but her mind continued to spin.
She managed a deep breath from her diaphragm. Wind knocked out of me.
Images of defenseless little Grace haunted her while she traveled through the movement of her feet, legs, back, arms, neck. Everything worked, but she didn’t have the energy to stand.
The space around her filled with the essence of another living being.
She wasn’t alone.
“Aiden?”
Underneath the whoosh of blowing snow, she heard a sound that raised the hairs at her nape. A garbled whoop-whoop dipped low, then rose up the scale. The sound stopped, and changed into a pant and huff.
Beth turned her head, and flashed her yellow light on the wolf’s gold eyes. The mirrored reflection turned them red for a nanosecond. Lakota lowered himself to the ground, a hair’s breadth beyond the reach of her fingers.
Her mind cleared. She realized those interesting noises had come from Lakota. She sensed he conversed with her on some wolf level. The sounds were beyond description. Ethereal, yet wild and comforting, as they transported her away from the cold storm.
Grief slammed into her, preventing her from rising. She totally lost control.
And the only consolation came from a wolf.
Lakota picked up his murmurings. The conversational, soothing tones of the nearby wolf kept her company as she wept.
She had suppressed grief. And she had some major grieving to do. Her childhood was left behind the first night her stepfather entered her room in the middle of the night.
Grace’s appearance in the woods had brought it all forward.
It was suddenly too much. She broke down. She curled into the fetal position. The anguish came from the depths of her soul as she let it all out. She wrapped her arms around her knees, buried her face in her thighs.
Beth needed to grieve for the teenager she never got to be. She wept for the absence of the Lord during her crazy years of teen life, when those days were supposed to be carefree. The emotional epiphany brought a flood of tears. She wept for the presence of the Lord, thankful for her deep-seated joy in the midst of painful memory. “Thank You, Lord, for the assurance of my future in heaven.”
Lakota came to his feet. She heard the muffled sound of a motor off in the distance. Maybe she imagined it. The wind roared through the woods and howled around the cabin.
Car lights flickered through the trees. Soon, she heard Aiden call. What had he said? It sounded like “E-yellow.”
At least, Beth thought it was Aiden. His voice sounded far away because of the howling wind. She straightened her stiff legs, and tilted her head towards the cabin.
Her movements and Aiden’s arrival caused Lakota to back off.
Aiden must have glimpsed them through the swirling snow. In seconds, he knelt at her side. “Beth, talk to me. Are you hurt?”
She avoided his concern, feeling embarrassed by her carelessness. She held up her arm, stretched until their fingertips touched. “Has anyone ever teased you about your accent?”
“I dint know I had dhat,” he exaggerated, hauling her to her feet. “You must be all right if you can make jokes. Besides, it sounds to me like Nebraskans have an accent. But I’ve become used to your strong consonants.”
Beth wanted to smile, to give him a good comeback remark, but her head felt like she’d had a cold for a week. “Jokes aside, I slipped and fell. Now I’m freezing.”
“You sure you didn’t hurt anything?” His arm felt heavy, but warm across her shoulders.
“Just my pride.” She turned to the wolf. “Good boy, Lakota. Thanks for keeping me company.”
Aiden’s flashlight was the most powerful she had ever seen. Lakota crouched into a stalking stance, drawn to the light where it now rested on the ground.
She found the strength to giggle, and felt better. She needed the release after such an outpouring of emotion. She swiped the moisture from her face. Dumb move to let go and cry. Her flesh felt numb. She wiggled her toes and fingers.
The wolf flicked an ear, still focused on the light.
Aiden spoke in a low voice, “Wouldn’t you like to know what’s going through his mind? You were right. He is curious.”
He made sure she was steady on her feet. He retrieved the light, slanting the beam between Lakota and the porch.
The wolf gave Beth one lingering look, and then disappeared into the snow-encrusted whiteness of the trees.
“If it wasn’t crazy weather, would we follow him?”
“Maybe. Right now I’m not concerned about where the wolf is headed. My guess is you are freezing.” Aiden squeezed her shoulders as though the gesture would warm her. But she felt scorched through the layers of their coats. “And I brought food from town.”
“Oh, a peace offering. I can’t believe you took off like that.”
“I should have told you. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Visibility is next to zero in spots, but I only broke through drifts a couple feet in a few places.”
“So, what did you bring to eat?” she asked at the door.
“Hot pot roast sandwiches.”
“Aah, Today’s Café special of the day smells wonderful.” She looked forward to what Aiden would next reveal within the confines of the cabin.
****
Aiden called himself a jerk. He couldn’t tell her he was running from his reaction to their kiss, rather than her. “What do you use for a table around here?”
“Got it covered.”
Aiden paid no mind to where Beth went while he set the bag of food in a camp chair, and searched for a place to set the light.
“I’ve only used the one room since I first moved in.” She spoke from behind the bedroom door where a heavy grating sounded. “You haven’t seen my table.”
Beth’s backside appeared on the other side of the door. Arms extended, bent at the waist, she wrestled what looked like an old firewood box.
He rushed to the doorway, but she waved a foot for him to stay back.
“I got it. Look out, or we’ll plow you over.” She gave another tug. The antique moved a few more inches.
“What in the world is it?”
“My grandmother’s trunk.”
Beth’s independence reminded Aiden of his niece or nephew’s “I can do it myself!”
He let her heft the thing through the door. When she raised her head and grinned at him, she looked like she was growing in stature to match her inner determination to heave the thing through. Her spirit may overrule her physical size, but enough was enough.
“I know you’re a tough carpenter lady,” he said with a headshake, “but I’ll get it from here.”
She didn’t argue when he slid the monstrosity in front of the chairs. He busied himself taking Styrofoam boxes from the sack, and opening the package of flatware and napkins. Then he repositioned the flashlight so it angled on their food.
When he straightened, she stood in the opposite doorway, drying her hands. She let the towel fly, and he took it in the chest.
“I know where things are, so I washed up in the dark. But you can use this.” She yanked her small flashlight from her back pocket and handed it to him. “Sink’s through the door and to the right. Don’t fall over anything.”
He figured she couldn’t see his nod as he reached for the light. He wrinkled his nose on the other side of the threshold, and was glad he couldn’t see what lay beyond the weak glow from the light in his hand. The fetid mold and odor of mice attacked his nostrils, enough to tell him she had her work cut out for her.
“How long do you think it’ll take to finish cleaning this place out?” he called while he ran cold water into the sink from the faucet marked HOT.
Maybe if they spent time talking, he’
d quit wanting to kiss her again.
He had known it was risky, driving to town in white-out conditions. But their kiss had unnerved him. So he escaped. As soon as he’d found his way out of the clearing, thoughts of Beth almost drew him back. Aside from a high school crush, no other woman had invaded his mind as Ms. Beth Phillips Todd Littlefield Phillips had.
Thoughts back on task, he shut off the icy water, and left the wadded towel on the edge of the sink. A quick scan with the light revealed a water tank, but no heater. She must heat water on the stove when she needed it.
“So what’s in the trunk?” he asked as he reentered the warm room. She had moved her camp chair to the opposite side of the stove, with the makeshift table between the chairs. He sat and grabbed his food at the same time.
“It’s a handkerchief collection, some from old estate sales, and many that my grandmother embroidered herself. They are the only things I have to remind me of her. I’m trying to come up with a creative way to preserve them. One of the Frivolities women will help me. I’ve thought about making angels from some of them. Is your gravy hot enough? I could warm it on the stove if you like.”
He stuffed a glop of mashed potato and gravy in his mouth. “’S fine. I’m starved.”
Beth took a dainty bite, and he almost choked when he wondered how the meeting of their lips would taste now. He covered a cough and concentrated on his food.
She intrigued him, he reluctantly admitted. No doubt she’d led a colorful past, was involved with more men than he’d ever want to know about.
“Lanae, one of the Frivolities owners, plans to help me mend the handkerchiefs with crocheted trim,” Beth announced around a mouthful of beef.
It was clear to him when she’d been surrounded in Frivolities those people must have forgiven past events. They accepted Beth, or they wouldn’t trust her to work in the shop.
She had the strength and determination to put the past behind her. To discover how her life changed so drastically nearly blew him away. The driver’s license picture said it all, along with all those last names. She had him churned up, couldn’t get his mind off their kisses.
How to describe her taste? Authentic. Did such a thing exist in a kiss? Her wholesome down-to-earth genuineness stunned him every time he considered who she must have once been. Was it a façade or could he really trust her for who she appeared to be?
“Aiden. Earth to Aiden. What are you thinking? I’m trying to tell you about my treasured collection here.”
“Sorry, zoned out fer sure.” No way would he tell her where his head had been. He concentrated on the rest of his meal, chewing and swallowing with intent. “Finish up and then we’ll talk.”
She nodded and grinned, sat up proper and prim, then shoveled in a bite of beef and gravy the size a trucker would envy.
The little imp stole his appetite. He wiped his mouth, fisted the napkin into the box, and closed it.
He said the first thing that cropped up. “I was stunned, seeing the wolf so close to you again. It’s like he comes out of nowhere. When I saw you on the ground like that, my mind iced up at the idea you were badly injured. The way you were crying tore at my guts.”
“Aiden, I was fine. I am fine. I just had the breath knocked out of me. And then I don’t know what hit me, but memories and emotions overwhelmed me. I must have needed that cry.”
The only sound in the cabin came from the crackling fire in the woodstove.
“I was feeling guilty when I found you on the ground.” He lowered his voice. “Before I reached you I was already beating myself up for leaving you in the middle of a blizzard.”
The wind had given way to an eerie quiet.
“Why did you? I still can’t believe you took off. Especially without telling me.”
“Sorry. I guess the thought of food wiped out everything else that made sense.”
She nodded, cocked her head in a listening pose. “No wind now, the storm must have died out.” Her lovely face was shadowed in the dim light provided by the weakening glow of the flashlight. “How was I to know I’d slip and fall? As soon as I realized I could move every body part, I wasn’t scared.”
He scrubbed his hand over his face. “What made you cry, then?”
Beth didn’t answer. She jumped up and cleared the to-go boxes. She put the trash in a covered can, brought bottled water from the bedroom, and regained her seat. Was she avoiding her emotions the same way he had tried to run from his? He was still coming down from the rush of adrenaline. Events picked up speed as he back-pedaled through emotional upheaval.
The memory, the power of their kiss told him he was beginning to care about this woman. He’d hightailed off in reaction. Then came the fleeting seconds when he found the wolf near and feared for Beth so much he’d broken into a sweat. Finding her lying on the ground with the wolf near again, and the sound of her wrenching sobs, had torn into him.
Was his heart in trouble here? He’d ignore it. He couldn’t afford to care. He wouldn’t be in town any longer than it took to get the wolf settled.
His mind returned to the cozy room. He studied Beth as she leaned forward and rolled the bottle of water between her palms, where her hands dangled in front of her knees. “I met a little girl in the woods earlier. Her name is Grace. I think she is being abused.”
“Come again?” He shifted his weight in the camp chair. “How do you know? Did she say she’d been hurt?”
Beth recounted the meeting. He couldn’t help but remember the news article description of Barton Littlefield. And that he had sent Beth to the hospital.
“You empathized with the little girl in the woods. You know what abuse is all about. Sounds like your ex could have killed you. You are obviously in the process of putting it behind you, but you are sensitive to others in the same situation.”
“He would have killed me.” When she finally stopped talking, she guzzled the whole bottle of water.
“It’s understandable why you are drawn to the girl.” He couldn’t keep it to himself any longer. “I have a confession to make, Beth. I researched the Littlefield name.”
Barton Littlefield had four months remaining on his sentence for assault.
She jumped up, threw her empty bottle in the direction of the trash can. She sucked in her gut and stood taller. But she stared off into a dark corner, rather than meet his eye. “Then you know all the dirty little details.”
The ragged indignation in her voice sent a chill up Aiden’s spine, equal to melting the outside temperature. “Just how badly did the buzzard hurt you?”
6
“Stuffy in here. I need some air,” Beth announced. She grabbed her coat where it had been heaped in the corner and slung open the door. The cold moisture iced her lungs and coated her memory of the last incident with Barton.
The door hadn’t clicked shut before Aiden joined her on the frozen, creaking porch. “I know Littlefield hurt you, Beth. You never deserved that kind of treatment.”
She’d talked enough about it. She cushioned her coat beneath her on the bench, where she leaned over with elbows on knees, her chin resting in cupped hands.
“This weather reminds me of home,” Aiden said a minute later, joining her. “Now that it’s not snowing, I have the hankering to put that tent back up and climb in my sub-zero sleeping bag.”
“What’s that saying about the farm? You can leave the state, but you can’t take the state out of the boy.” She could tease him a bit, but what else did she have to offer Aiden?
“Do you really hear Minnesota when I talk?”
She nodded, her thoughts returned to gloom. Barton had made her feel helpless and weak. How did Aiden see her? She wanted to be strong for him.
Beth drew in her stomach, put her shoulders back, and stared into the post-storm world. The trees were beautiful, coated with white.
She knew God viewed her as pure. After all, He’d washed her sins away. But until she saw herself cleansed, as white as that snow, she’d rely on her own resour
ces, as well as gaining her strength from the Lord. Yet, she was also a woman. She was so tempted to lean on Aiden.
But she refused to look to a man for strength.
Too cold to sit still and soak in the calm after the storm, she bent and grabbed an armload of wood.
Aiden followed suit and opened the door for her. “It’s late. I should be going.”
She opened the damper and put more wood into the stove. Heat from the fire seared her hands, yet felt good at the same time. She secured the door latch and brushed her hands on her pant legs. Flipping the damper closed, she asked, “How many people were in the café?”
He slapped his forehead with his knuckles. “Oh, man, I can’t believe I forgot. She said it was really important.”
“Who said? What’s important?”
“When I picked up dinner for two, the waitress asked me who I was sharing my meal with in the middle of a blizzard. I said your name, and this gal came to the counter. Your cousin Cassie introduced herself. She asked me to have you get in touch with her. As in, ASAP.”
“Really? I suppose she or my Aunt Mary tried to call me. I don’t get cell service here in the trees. I always have to go higher than the river, out to the road.”
“Me, too. Do you think it can wait until morning?”
“It’ll have to, considering the weather conditions. If it was a matter of life or death, Bart Whitney has a blade on his truck, so he could get to me. I would imagine he’ll clear the drifts between me and the blacktop first thing in the morning.”
“All right, then. Thanks for the company.” He opened his arms. “How about a hug?”
Unable to resist the way he looked like a fuzzy bear in the bulk of his coat, she stepped into his warm invitation. He folded the flaps of his coat around her so she felt the impact of his strength, his flannel-covered solidity.
She sighed. And hated the way she melted into him as though she had reached the end of herself. But he smelled so good! He reminded her of the woods, strong as a tree trunk braced against a storm, yet vulnerable saplings peaked through the rugged exterior.
Just as Aiden lowered his chin to rest against the top of her head, she pulled out of the embrace. He was too tempting. Her past threatened to raise its sensual response. No way would she sink back into that impulse to give her body, then end up at the mercy of a man’s superiority.
