Phantom Waltz

by Catherine Anderson

  Resting his hands on the chair arms, he held her gaze for a searching moment. “We can have a lot of fun together, you and I. No risks, no expectations, just friendship. I can make it work if only you’ll give me a chance.”

  “I’m tempted,” she said with a wet laugh. “You make it so hard to say no.”

  “Then don’t.”

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes reflecting hesitation and uncertainty. “Let me think about it.”

  “What’s to think about?”

  “If I’m around you very much, I’m afraid I’ll do something ill-advised and totally dumb, like fall in love with you,” she admitted shakily.

  Ryan was counting on it.

  Chapter Nine

  The following afternoon on her way home from Bend, where she’d gone to pick up an order of custom-made saddle blankets for the store, Bethany ran into bad weather. Initially, she couldn’t quite believe her eyes when a blob of white struck the windshield. The weather forecast hadn’t predicted snow.

  Within seconds, visibility was reduced to almost nothing. She flipped the windshield wipers onto high and peered at the veil of white ahead of her. Gusts of wind buffeted the stands of fir and pine that bordered the road and swept across the pavement to form shallow drifts on each shoulder.

  This couldn’t be happening. It was the last of April, for pity’s sake, far too late for snow. She slowed down and tightly gripped the steering wheel. She was at a high elevation right now. In a matter of minutes, she’d probably drop out of this into heavy rain. Rain, she could handle. Just as long as she didn’t need snow chains, she’d be all right.

  Approximately ten minutes passed. The windshield wipers went swish-thunk—swish-thunk, the rhythmic sound seeming to mock her as the blades pushed aside the thick buildups of snow. The highway was covered now. Oh, God. Her van didn’t handle well on ice. Just yesterday over Sunday dinner, her brothers had been talking about getting her a four-wheel drive SUV before next winter. A fat lot of good that did her now.

  After turning on the stereo and switching from CD to FM, she tried to pick up a Crystal Falls radio station. When she located her favorite spot on the dial, a country-western channel that played only hit songs, she listened to the disc jockey’s comments on the weather front with growing unease. A freak snowstorm. He advised against driving, even in town, unless people had a bona fide emergency. Several multi-car accidents had already occurred on the outskirts of Crystal Falls.

  Nervous sweat beaded her face. She felt the rear end of the van lose traction and slip toward the shoulder. She needed to put on traction devices. Big problem. It would be sheer madness to get out of the van. If the vehicle was slipping and sliding, her chair would do the same.

  Swish-thunk—swish-thunk. She turned off the stereo to listen. An occasional whining sound told her the back tires were losing their grip and spinning to grab hold again. Squinting to see up ahead, she could detect no letup in the downfall, only snow as far as she could see, forming a white wall. If she lost control and went off the road—well, it didn’t bear thinking about.

  Positive thoughts, she told herself. If she drove slowly and hugged the center of the road, she’d probably make it fine. It was silly to worry about things before they happened. Right?

  Just as she thought that, the van fishtailed on a slight incline. She tried to steer into the skid and regain control, but the vehicle went into a spin. For a crazy instant, the world became a blur, the forested slopes at either side of the road whizzing past the windows like video images on fast-forward. Trees, snow, rocks, and sky. She clung hard to the steering wheel, her only anchor as she was flung sideways by the force of gravity.

  Oh, God. The half-formed prayer was cut short when, with a sudden lurch, the van dove off into the ditch with such force that the front bumper plowed into the frozen earth. Bethany’s teeth snapped together. The nylon strap that held her in her chair bit into her shoulder. She screamed and tried desperately to regain control of the vehicle, but the hand brake wouldn’t work.

  The undercarriage of the van jounced over the rough ground. Each time metal struck rock, the noise seemed to explode in the air around her. Through the swirling downfall, she glimpsed a looming blur of gray and white ahead. Still holding hard on the brake, she tried to stop, but the conditions were too slick. The van sped onward, unchecked, until it hit the obstacle, the resultant crunch of metal so deafening that it seemed to reverberate inside her skull.

  Her head snapped forward, her face almost hitting the wheel. For a moment afterward, she just stared in befuddlement at the windshield, her one clear thought that the wipers were still working. With each pass, the left blade caught on a spray of gritty mud, making a swish-scritch sound that would soon drive her mad. She reached to turn off the wipers and then hesitated, imagining how claustrophobic she would feel, trapped and unable to see out.

  And what was she thinking? That was the least of her problems. She’d just had a wreck. A wreck. There could be gas pouring from a crack in the tank—or she could be bleeding to death from a cut she didn’t know she had. She sniffed the air. If the tank was ruptured, she’d surely smell fuel.

  An absurd urge to laugh came over her. She found that vaguely alarming and wondered if she was in shock. The van was tipped at a crazy angle. Her purse and coat, which had been on the passenger seat, now lay on that side of the floorboard beyond her reach. A fine pickle, no question about it.

  A rock, she decided. The van had crashed into a rock. Strike that. Any stone that large qualified as a boulder. Craning her neck to see over the dash, she tried to assess the damage. Through the swirl of snow, all she could tell for certain was that the hood looked crunched.

  Oh, God—oh, God. She had to do something. Only what? All that kept her chair anchored in place were the restraints. If she dared to unfasten the straps, she might topple out of her chair.

  Trembling with nerves, she checked her person, paying special attention to her legs because an injury there would cause no pain. As near as she could tell, she was unharmed. Thank heaven. She had seen no traffic for at least thirty minutes, so she couldn’t count on a passerby to stop and help her.

  The van was still running. That was good. Perhaps she’d be able to back out of the ditch and limp on home. The thought no sooner passed through her mind than she heard a hissing sound and saw a cloud of steam shoot from under the van’s mangled hood. The engine gave two coughs, sputtered, and died.

  Silence. It settled around her with unnerving thickness, broken only by the faint snapping sound of cooling metal.

  “Wonderful!”

  She rubbed a peephole on the fogged glass to peer out. The snow was already so deep, she could see no asphalt, not even in her skid marks.

  “Stay calm.” She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “No major catastrophe here. Just a fender bender and a damaged radiator. No big deal.”

  Only for someone like her, it was a big deal. Like menacing specters looming from the mist, the huge, snow-laden trees that grew along the road bore witness to the remoteness of her location. The woods stretched for miles in all directions. For the first time in her life, she felt intimidated by the wilderness.

  At the edges of her mind, panic mounted. An able-bodied woman would be able to climb over the console to get her coat, at least. Without a functional heater, she could very easily freeze to death out here.

  With trembling hands she groped in the console, the contents of which were now tossed every which way. Where was her phone? She always kept it in there when she traveled. She cast a worried glance at her purse. After finishing her business in Bend, had she forgotten to return the cell phone to the console?

  Yes. Of all the stupid, idiotic, mindless things to do.

  She thought of all the times she’d harangued her brothers for being overprotective of her. I’m a grown woman. I don’t need anyone to watch out for me. Those words came back to haunt her now. I don’t need anyone—I don’t need anyone. Pride
talking, nothing more. At times like this, her helplessness was pounded home.

  Well … there was no way around it. If the purse wouldn’t come to her, she had to go to it. That cell phone was her only link to help. She couldn’t just sit here until someone finally happened along and found her.

  Heart in throat, she reached down to disengage the restraint straps that anchored both her and her chair behind the steering wheel. The hasp slipped free. For an instant, nothing happened. Bethany was about to breathe a sigh of relief. Then, with a suddenness that caught her by surprise, her chair flipped sideways, the right arm crashing against the console.

  She fell sideways and forward, smacking the dash with her chest. The next instant she lay in a twisted heap on the floorboard, her head wedged against the passenger door, her neck in a painful crick, her useless legs sprawled and anchoring her lower body. Oh, God. She pushed and shoved, trying to right herself. The force of gravity fought against her, the van tipped at such a sharp angle that she was almost standing on her head.

  Quickly out of breath from her struggle, she rested for a moment, horribly aware that she lay on top of her purse and coat. When her breathing evened out, she ignored the angle of her neck to tug on her purse. What seemed like a small eternity later, she finally wrested it free. She plucked out the phone and stared at it in concern, afraid she had damaged it in her fall. It looked intact.

  She dialed the state police, praying as she did that the call would go through. When she heard a female dispatcher’s voice, she went limp with relief. She quickly explained her dilemma.

  “There are several accidents out that way,” the woman said. “In some places, the traffic is backed up for miles both directions. Where are you, exactly?”

  Bethany tried to recall the last road signs she’d seen and gave it her best guess. “I can’t see a milepost to pinpoint my exact location.”

  “That’s close enough. You’re right on the highway, not all that far from town. The problem will be getting a car out there. It may take an hour or more, depending upon officer availability and how long it takes to clear the road. We’re dealing with several emergency situations right now, the most urgent ones first.”

  Bethany stared at the fogged window above her, thinking that her situation was pretty urgent. “I understand. It’s just that I’m in a rather difficult spot. You did hear me say I’m a paraplegic? I’ve fallen on the floorboard, and I’m lying on my coat. I’m not sure I’ll even be able to cover up.”

  “Are you injured, ma’am?”

  Bethany was tempted to say yes, just to get some help. It was no fun, lying in a twist with her neck bent sideways. But then she thought of the other people out on the road who’d been involved in accidents, people who might be injured and need assistance they might not get if she lied. “No, I’m not hurt,” she admitted. “Just extremely uncomfortable and getting very cold.”

  “I’ll get a car out there as quickly as I can,” the dispatcher replied, her voice laced with concern. “Can you hold on for an hour or so?”

  Bethany was loath to break the connection. “I’ll be right here,” she said, forcing a laugh.

  After ending the call, she went back to staring up at the passenger door window which, because it was partially shielded by the angle of the vehicle, wasn’t completely covered with white. Looking at the falling snow from this angle was dizzying, making her feel as if she was inside an all-white kaleidoscope. Before long, her van would be completely covered. She just hoped the ditch wasn’t so deep that a highway patrolman driving by would fail to see her.

  A shiver racked her body. Cold. It seeped through the floor, its icy fingers curling around her. She had poor circulation in her legs, which didn’t help. She tended to chill more easily than other people.

  She set herself to the task of dragging her coat out from under her. Impossible. Her rump anchored the wool to the floorboard, and the downward tilt of the vehicle made it difficult to elevate her torso. She pushed and strained and twisted about, all to no avail. In the end, the stupid coat remained under her butt.

  Blinking away tears of frustration, she settled for tugging one corner of the wool over her right leg. She told herself that at least the garment protected part of her body.

  The seconds dragged. To see her watch, she had to wipe condensation from the crystal face. The dispatcher had said it would be an hour, possibly longer, before an officer could reach her. Judging by how badly she was already shivering, she hated to wait that long.

  Ten minutes passed, and Bethany went from shivering to shuddering. She had no idea what the ambient temperature was. Her wool skirt and blouse provided adequate warmth in a heated room, but out here, she may as well have been wearing nothing.

  She glanced at the phone. Jake would be at the store. She knew if she called him he’d move heaven and earth to reach her, which was exactly why she hesitated. Her situation wasn’t so dire that she wanted her brother to put himself at risk, driving in these conditions.

  In the space of five minutes, Bethany felt like a vibrating icicle. She recalled Ryan’s swiping the sweater for her to wear last night and wished she had it now. On the tail of that thought, she remembered how strong and wonderfully warm his arms had felt, curled so firmly around her.

  Ryan. Bethany blinked and stared at the snow-covered windshield above her. His ranch wasn’t far away. Maybe the highway wasn’t blocked between here and there.

  She grabbed the phone, then hesitated. If she made this call, it would be an irrevocable step. Friendship. Normally she wouldn’t find that frightening. As Ryan said, no one could have too many friends. But how many women had male friends so handsome that a mere grin could give them heart palpitations?

  Stupid, so stupid. It wasn’t as if the man was angling for a steamy affair, after all, or even hinting at one. Recalling the gentle way he’d held her last night and the aching sincerity she’d seen in his eyes when he’d spoken to her of friendship, she instinctively trusted him.

  Decision time. She could be a total idiot and lie here, freezing to death unnecessarily, or she could take Ryan up on his offer of friendship.

  She tried to remember his telephone number and couldn’t, so she dialed information. A moment later she was punching in the number to his residence. Please, be home, Ryan. Please, please, be home.

  Ryan was laying a fire when the phone rang. He brushed his hands clean on his jeans and stepped to the end table to grab the portable from its base. Thinking it was his mother calling again, he bypassed saying hello. “No, I don’t want to join you and Dad for snow ice cream,” he said with a chuckle. “I’d have to be nuts to go out in this.”

  “Ryan?” a shaky feminine voice said. “This is Bethany.”

  She sounded awful, and his heart caught with sudden fear. “Bethany? Honey, are you crying?”

  “No, no. I’m just shivering.”

  The hair stood up on the nape of his neck. “Shivering?”

  “From cold. I’m so sorry to call you like this, but I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a pickle.”

  She went on to describe her predicament. Ryan tightened his grip on the phone. He glanced out the sliding glass doors at the blizzard in progress. “Dear God, you’re stranded in this?”

  Her voice quaking in a way that alarmed him, she said, “I’m not hurt or anything. Please, don’t get all upset. It’s not that big a deal. I think my radiator is bashed. The engine coughed and quit, so I can’t run the heater.” He heard her take another shivery breath. “I’m sort of—lying in a heap on the floorboard.” She laughed shakily. “On top of my coat, of course. Murphy’s Law, and all that.”

  Ryan started to pace. Long, heel-stomping steps muffled by the carpet, his body taut with alarm. “Son of a bitch. Where are you, honey?”

  The picture that formed in his mind of her lying on the floorboard sent sheer terror coursing through him. She could be bleeding to death from a cut on her legs and not even know it.

  “Have you checked yourself for
cuts?”

  “Oh, yes. Not a mark that I could find. I’m fine, honestly. Just chilly.”

  Chilly? She sounded as if she was lying on a vibrating bed. “Where are you?” he asked again.

  “You know the Eagle Ridge turnoff? I remember seeing the sign just before I went off the road. That isn’t a terribly long way from you, is it? I mean—if it is, the driving conditions are so awful I can just wait for the police. There are wrecks between here and Crystal Falls, but they’re working to get the roads cleared and can be here in an hour or so.”

  There was no way on earth Ryan would let her lie on a cold floorboard for an hour. He knew exactly where she was, and traveling as a crow flew, he could reach her in twenty minutes. “No worries. I’m used to getting around in snow.”

  “I just—” She broke off and sighed, the sound shrill, shaky, and conveying such weariness, he wished he were already there with her. “Do be careful, Ryan. I’ll never forgive myself if you have a wreck, trying to reach me.”

  “You just hold tight, honey. I’m on my way. I’ve got blankets in the storage compartment of my snow horse. Rafe and I are members of Search and Rescue. You’ll be snug as a bug in a rug before you know it.”

  After breaking the connection, Ryan left the house at a dead run, tugging on his jacket as he went. Seconds later, he threw open the doors to the snowmobile shed, thanking God and all His angels that he and Rafe were always ready for an emergency. He kept a heavy plastic storage trunk on the back of his snowmobile stocked with blankets, emergency food rations, and an extensive first aid kit. He grabbed some bungee cords from a hook on the wall and stuffed them in with the rescue supplies. Then he filled the tank with fuel.

  In less than five minutes, he was headed for Eagle Ridge, traveling cross country over snow-covered pastureland and through heavily wooded areas where the winter snowpack still hadn’t melted.