by Webb, Peggy
She found a kitchen at the back of the cabin. It was hardly bigger than a galley.
Holding her blankets close, Kate started her search. Louvered doors at the end of the galley led to a compact washer and dryer complete with a shelf of laundry supplies. She started flinging open kitchen cabinets. She found dishes but no tins of canned food, no bags of rice and cereal to attract varmints. Not even a box of stale crackers. Not even a crumb.
Fighting against rising dismay, she flung open the last cabinet.
“Jackpot.”
The shelves were stocked with cooking oil, vinegar, tea bags and various condiments along with stacks of freeze-dried meals, including her favorite, lasagna with meat sauce. Relief overwhelmed her, and she stood in front of the food battling back tears.
See, I told you your guardian angels would come. Her grandmother’s voice.
The pasta was exactly the fuel she needed after her grueling escape. She stuffed the pockets of Betty’s jacket then went in search of water.
She found the gallon water jugs in the bottom cabinet near the back door. Not surprisingly, the water was frozen solid.
A quick survey showed that the owners of this cabin had winterized the smart way. No pilot lights were left burning, not even in the water heater, which had been drained.
Kate searched all the drawers in the kitchen cabinet till she found matches and a screwdriver mixed in with an assortment of cutlery. She nabbed a spoon and the screwdriver and stuffed them in her pockets. If she had to leave here for any reason, she’d be a girl with tools.
But where was the wood? The wood basket beside the backdoor was empty. And there was no way Kate could go back into the storm to gather wood. Even if she could see to find it, it would be wet.
She balled her hands into fists. “I will not be defeated. I won’t.”
She’d escaped a maniac and was still alive to tell the tale. She wasn’t going to curl up and die now. If she had to, she’d break the chairs apart with her ice ax and burn them in the fireplace.
She unlatched the door at the back of the kitchen and pushed it open. It led to a small enclosed porch that had been winterized. Shutters had been lowered over the screens and bits of snow filtered through. But in the corner, covered and kept dry by a tarp, was Kate’s precious, life-saving wood.
Without wasting a moment, she filled her arms with fireplace logs and plenty of kindling then went back inside and set to work building her fire, never mind that she was dragging somebody else’s blankets all over the floor. They’d just have to forgive her.
She dumped her wood by the fireplace then knelt in front of it. Years of hiking and camping had taught her how to build a fire, even the hard way if she didn’t have matches.
Thankfully, the matches saved the day, and she soon had a fire going. Her next order of business was to cut the ice chunks out of their plastic jugs with her ice ax then melt them for drinking and reconstituting her freeze-dried food.
It was almost like being ten years old again.
By the time she was drinking hot tea from a mug she’d found in the kitchen and stuffing herself with the pasta with meat sauce, the storm outside and the killer chasing her had receded. Even her shivering had stopped.
Kate was transported back in time. She became a little kid again, sitting in front of a blazing campfire watching her dad stir beef stew over the fire while her mom sat nearby strumming her guitar. Her SAR dog, a big golden retriever named Kelly, lay at her feet.
Her dad smiled at her. “This is the good life, isn’t it, Katie bug?”
“It’s cool.”
“Do you want to roast marshmallows while the stew’s cooking?”
She jumped up and ran to her dad, glad he wasn’t like her best friend Sally’s dad. He never took the time to do anything with Sally. Kate slid into her dad’s lap and he took out his pocketknife and showed her how to trim the end of the roasting stick.
Her mom smiled at them. Most moms would say, “She’s going to cut herself,” but Kate’s mother was always encouraging her to try new things.
Like so many others before it, that childhood camping trip had been great, and one the last times she’d seen her parents happy together.
Now Kate leaned closer to the fireplace, warmed by the crackling fire and her memories. What had happened between her parents to make it all go so wrong? They were both good people, and both of them loved her. Why did they no longer show that love to each other?
Was there anything she could do to help them get it back? If she got out of this mess--when she got out of this mess--she was going to ask questions, try to find answers.
Kate filled her thermos with water she’d thawed, then put the thermos and the freeze-dried dinners from her pockets into her backpack. Next she tided up, disposing of her teabag and freeze-dried dinner containers in a garbage bag, rinsing her cup with the leftover water and setting it in the sink to dry.
Her dad used to tell her, “Never camp with a messy roommate.”
“Why?”
“You’ll get bears in your tent.”
The memory made her smile. She was still smiling as she added another log to the fire then pulled more blankets out of the bedroom closet and placed them by the fire.
The wind roared, beast-like, around the cabin and nothing was visible outside except a curtain of white. Still, Kate went to the window and stood there, searching, searching.
Had Jonathan continued to follow her? Or had he turned to go back home? Surely he was back in the farmhouse with Betty.
Poor woman. Would he take care of her through the storm or let her do all the work?
Kate had heard him yelling at his mother, calling her all kinds of foul names.
“Beast!” she said, then lowered the curtain, walked back to the fire and snuggled into her pile of blankets. She’d stay close during the storm. She still felt chilled from prolonged exposure, and didn’t know how long it would take to feel as if she’d brought her body temperature back to normal.
The heat began to make her drowsy. To keep herself awake she ran through a list of things she planned to do. Her parents had given her everything, and she was going to make them proud. She was going to get through this ordeal and finish her degree in veterinary medicine. She was…
“KATE!”
She leaped to her feet.
The beast was back. And she had nowhere to run.
Chapter Sixteen
1:00 p.m.
Outside the trading post snowstorm Holly lashed out in full fury, shaking the rafters, battering the doors and windows, uprooting giant trees whose thunderous, dying gasps could be heard over the howling wind. Though it was early afternoon, the complete whiteout made the inside of the trading post gloomy.
Still, Joe could see how his wife shivered from the long exposure to sub-zero temperatures. It hurt that she no longer turned to him for warmth and comfort, and that it was no longer natural for him to offer.
“Go inside the tent, Mags.” It went without saying that Jefferson would go, too. He was part of the family, and he would follow Maggie to the ends of the earth.
“She’s out there, Joe.”
“She’s smart. She’s sheltered somewhere. She knows how.”
Maggie nodded. Probably too full of emotion to talk about Kate anymore without crying. He was, too, and that was a fact.
“Are you coming?”
“I’ll cook first. The stove will warm me up some.”
The so-called stove was nothing more than a burner perched on a portable propane canister, the pocket rocket backpacking variety which set up quickly. He didn’t cook much at home except for the occasional scrambled egg or grilled steak, but he enjoyed cooking when they camped.
Today being the notable exception. What was to enjoy about hunkering down in an abandoned building while your only child was lost in a blizzard?
Maggie stood watching him, her face unreadable, and then she ducked inside the tent with Jefferson following. They huddled together on
the sleep pad he’d spread earlier, the big Lab leaning against her legs and her arms wrapped him. Was she only thinking of sharing Jefferson’s body heat? Or was she thinking, as he did, that no manner of intelligence and know-how would be enough for Kate to survive this storm without supplies.
“Mags.”
“Yeah?”
“Turn on the lantern.”
It was the old Candoil backpacking lantern he’d bought many years ago when the outdoor equipment companies improved the candle burning lanterns. It provided both light and enough heat to add warmth to the inside of a tent, even in the worst winter weather.
“I know.”
She got the lantern going and he could see them silhouetted through the canvas, a woman whose bond with her dog would never be broken, no matter what, a woman so committed to search and rescue missions, she was willing to put her own life on the line, over and over.
She’d even been willing to put your sons on the line.
The thought came unbidden, and Joe pushed it away. Don’t go there.
But something had opened the floodgates--the search for his daughter, working the storm with Maggie and Jefferson, feeling a resurrection of the close bond they used to have working SAR missions.
He thought of before, of the last camping trip he’d taken when Kate was ten and he and Maggie had a real shot at recapturing the happiness they’d known before he lost Clint at the World Trade Towers. Maggie had been so happy then, playing the guitar that was now collecting dust in the back of the closet, sending him secret knowing smiles, occasionally running her hand over her still-flat abdomen.
Looking at her, you’d never know she was pregnant with twins. His sons. Joe had been beside himself with joy. The pregnancy changed everything, closed the distance he’d felt with his wife since 9-11, restored his dreams for a future of growing old with her, of watching their children grow up and go to college and marry and have kids.
The pregnancy was a miracle for them, an unexpected gift. Kate’s eleventh birthday was only a few weeks away, and they’d planned to tell her then, together. “You’re going to have two baby brothers,” they’d say. They were even going to let her help choose the names.
Then Maggie got a call for a SAR mission. Two young girls missing from a youth camp in the Superior wilderness.
Their argument had been fierce.
“Let somebody else go, Mags.”
“They’re ten, Joe. And I might be their only hope for survival.”
“You’re not. There are other very capable SAR handlers.”
“But I’m the closest. You know the sooner they are rescued the more likely they’ll be alive.”
“You’d risk our sons?” It was a low blow and he knew it. But he was filled with foreboding, desperate to keep her and his unborn babies safe.
Maggie’s face turned white. “I’m pregnant, Joe, not infirm. There is no reason for me to stay home like a hothouse flower.”
“You’ll be going into an area where the terrain is particularly treacherous. It will be too risky, Maggie.”
She’d covered her womb with both hands, a mother bear, fierce and protective. “Do you think I’d deliberately put my babies at risk? Is that what you think, Joe?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore.”
And there it was. The last bitter words he’d said before Maggie left on the mission. The accusation that must have been in her mind when she’d fallen and started bleeding, when she was airlifted out of the wilderness to the hospital where doctors told her there was nothing they could do. Her babies were gone, and she could never have another.
Afterward, neither of them talked about it, and Kate had never known. They moved forward as if nothing had happened, as if the hole left by two baby boys weren’t getting bigger every day.
Now he glanced at his wife inside the tent. Her head was bowed. What was she thinking? Did she ever remember?
Joe took their meals off the burner then made coffee.
“Mags?” He had to call her name twice before she looked up. “Food’s ready.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat.”
One of the best ways to warm the body was to fuel it with hot food and drink. She knew that better than anyone.
“I know.”
She eased away from Jefferson, though he was sleeping so soundly he never stirred when she crawled from the tent. Though their campsite was inside a building, Joe had set up the camping stove as far away from the tent as possible.
Kate used to giggle when he’d tell her that food, even crumbs, left inside the tent was a sure way to attract unwanted animal guests, including bears. “When you camp,” he’d say, “never eat where you sleep.”
Maggie sat on the other side of the burner and they both dug into their meals, eating in silence. It was like so many meals at home that Joe shouldn’t even have noticed. For the first time in years he knew why Maggie was always saying to him, we never talk. For the first time since they’d lost their babies, he wanted to smash the silence with both fists.
But how to bring up a subject that had festered inside him for nine years? Instead he stowed their trash inside an odor proof bag then found a door at the back of the building. It took all his strength to open it against the storm, and then the wind snatched the door and almost tore it from the hinges. Joe had to hang onto the doorframe to keep from being sucked into the storm.
He was panting and shaking with cold when he finally managed to close the door. Joe dusted the snow off his clothes and made his way back to the front room.
His wife was still huddled over the burner, shivering again.
“Let’s take our coffee inside, Mags.
Heat from the lantern and Jefferson’s body made the inside of the tent a welcome relief. Still, Joe sat as close to Maggie as possible.
“How long do you think the storm will last?” she said.
“Hard to tell right now.”
“She won’t last days. Not without supplies.”
“Kate’s resourceful. Let’s don’t think otherwise, Mags.”
Maggie sipped her coffee, nodding hard as if she were trying to convince herself. Then tears welled up and spilled over.
“It’s my fault she’s gone,” she said.
“It’s the fault of that depraved maniac who took her.”
“If I’d let you go after her, none of this would have happened.”
She was crying in earnest now. Joe set his coffee aside and pulled her close. Thankfully, she didn’t pull away.
“Shh, Mags. You can’t take this on yourself.”
The guilt would destroy her. How many times through the years had he blamed himself for standing idly by while his pregnant wife went on a SAR mission into terrain he knew would be treacherous? Why hadn’t he offered to take her dog and do the search, himself? He’d been there for most of her refresher training sessions at home with Kelly. He knew the commands and how the dog worked. The dog knew him—and was trained to work with other handlers if necessary.
“I’m sorry, Mags.”
“What?” She sniffed and stared at him. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you and Kate. I’m sorry I didn’t insist on driving to the college to get her. Sorry I didn’t take your place on that SAR mission nine years ago.”
The shock of his admission showed on her face, on the way she went very still. Was she angry? Hurt? Wondering why he was talking about a subject that had been taboo for nearly half their marriage?
“Kelly would have worked with me. I should have gone instead of you.”
“You couldn’t have known what would happen, Joe.”
“Neither could you.”
“I blamed myself.”
“I blamed you, too, for a while,” he said. “But mostly I blamed myself.”
“Why?”
“A man is supposed to protect those he loves. I didn’t protect anybody, Mags, including you.”
&
nbsp; She snorted and scooted out of his embrace. “That’s antiquated thinking, Joe Carter. I’m an independent woman. I don’t need anybody to look after me. I take care of myself.”
Was her feisty response a way of avoiding the hard truth? Or had she grown so far from him there was no going back?
Joe picked up his cup and sipped his coffee. It would easy to let the subject drop, easy to slide back into their routine of refusing to have any conversation with substance. The wind howled like a wild thing, and he felt as raw as the winter storm.
He also felt that this was his last chance to save his marriage. And it was slowly slipping away.
“I should have been more supportive of you when you lost the babies.”
Her surprise showed on her face, on the way she studied him intently now, the way she appeared to be burrowing beneath his skin trying to peer straight into his soul.
“I thought you had closed yourself off because you hated me,” she said.
“No. I hated myself.”
“Oh, Joe. What a mess we’ve made of things.” She leaned her head briefly against his shoulder, a very good sign. Still, you couldn’t erase years in one vulnerable moment. You couldn’t turn back the clock and redo everything that had gone before.
“I’d like to change things going forward, Mags, to try to make things good again.”
“I don’t know.”
Three words. Joe could take them as a stake driven through his heart, or he could seize them as a shred of hope.
“I understand.”
“Joe.” She cupped his face, looked deep into his eyes. “I can’t even think about the future until I find Kate.”
“You don’t have to, Mags. I’m here… I’ll be here.”
He started to add always, but he was afraid of sounding foolish, like some besotted wimp in those chick flick movies his daughter watched.
What was Kate doing now? She was tough, smart and supremely fit. But she was also young and vulnerable and scared and unequipped in the midst of one of the worst blizzards in Minnesota’s history. If Joe thought about the possibilities he’d go crazy.
Instead he wrapped his arms around his wife, whispered, “Body heat,” and prepared to wait out the storm.
