Snow Angels. Fern Michaels
height of his career several years ago, he’d assumed that by the time he built a vacation home, not having cable TV, satellite TV, not to mention Internet service, would be something he’d never have to worry about. Of course, he’d built his so-called vacation home a lot sooner than he’d originally planned. Blow Out Hill was still as undeveloped as it had been two years ago, when he’d moved into the giant log home.
This was supposed to be his and Kayla’s, and any children they’d had, home away from home, from the mansion in Denver that he’d practically given away after Kayla’s death. When he had purchased the land, he’d envisioned teaching his kids to ski on Powder Rise, the mountain, albeit a small one, behind the house. Those were dreams, and nothing more.
All his hope for the future died when Kayla, a police officer, was shot and killed in the line of duty two years earlier on Christmas Eve. No more holiday celebrations for him; it was too painful. Memories gouged him like a sharp knife, each twisting deeper, the hurt lingering like a bad odor. Friends told him his grief would lessen, the hard, brittle edges softening with time. So far they’d been wrong. There wasn’t a day that he didn’t think of his and Kayla’s life together, what could have been. Putting his memories aside for the moment, Max hurried into the kitchen.
Searching for the transistor radio and batteries he always kept for such an occasion, he found them in the kitchen drawer next to the Viking stove. Top-of-the-line. He bought the best appliances money could buy in memory of all the times he and Kayla had spent together on Sunday mornings making breakfast and whatever else Kayla decided. Now they just sat there like a silent reminder of all he’d lost.
Putting fresh batteries in the radio, Max tuned to a local station, searching for an updated weather report. When he found the station he usually listened to, he turned the volume up. The meteorologist’s static-laced report filled the kitchen, then Max heard something about roadblocks, but the rest was bleeped out. No doubt the storm at work. He made a few adjustments to the dial again, and this time the reporter’s voice was loud and clear:
“And it appears as though residents of Eagle, Colorado, and the surrounding areas will have a white Christmas after all. We’re expecting more than three feet of snow before morning. A travel advisory is in effect until further notice…”
Max put the four empty mugs in the dishwasher, not liking the direction his thoughts were headed. If the report was accurate, and he had no reason to believe otherwise, his “house guests” could be there for a while.
“Damn!” he cursed out loud. Max wasn’t prepared for a snowstorm. Hell, he’d be lucky if there was enough food in the house for him to get by on for a few days, let alone two children and another adult. He could kick himself for not planning ahead. He’d been taking care of himself for a very long time now without giving a thought to another human being. The way he figured it, his lack of preparation was justified as far as he was concerned. Then he remembered the freezer in the shed. Maybe someone had remembered to fill it.
Soft footsteps startled him from his thoughts. He wasn’t used to anyone in his house other than himself and the two Huskies, who were curled up on the leather sofa he’d vacated earlier.
“I just wanted to thank you again for putting us up. It was stupid of me to take the girls out on a night like this,” Grace said.
Max wanted to agree, but in all fairness he couldn’t. If she were telling the truth, and he had a gut feeling she was, there was nothing wrong with her taking two children to see a Christmas ballet. Rotten luck had placed her in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He looked at Grace, really looked at her. She was tall for a woman, a bit on the thin side. Milky white skin made him think of the clichéd term “peaches-and-cream complexion.” Long black hair reached the middle of her back. Her eyes were an unusual shade of green, reminding him of the wild grass that grew alongside the mountain in the summer, their color so bold. He wondered if they were contacts, but something told him everything about this woman was real, even though she’d been evasive with information about herself. Really, he didn’t blame her. She didn’t know him any better than he knew her. Add to the equation she had two little girls with her, alone on a mountain with a strange man. He wouldn’t be quick to offer information either if he were in her shoes.
Max waved his hand in the air. “Not a problem.” It was, but he wouldn’t tell her that. He figured he’d been rude enough already. Resigned to the loss of privacy for the next few days, Max decided he’d better inform Grace just how unprepared he was.
“The weather report doesn’t look good.” He nodded toward the radio on the countertop. “They’re saying three feet of snow before daybreak.”
Grace stepped into the kitchen. “I have to get out of here at first light. Stephanie will be sick with worry!” Grace eyed the phone. “It’s still not working?”
He took the phone off its stand, punched a button. “Nothing. Phone’s always the first to go and the last to be repaired. People around here are more concerned with the roads.”
“If they clear the roads so quickly, then my getting back to the van shouldn’t be a problem,” Grace stated flatly. The thought of staying under the same roof with their host for more than a night sent a shiver of alarm down her spine.
“The roads will be cleared as soon as it’s safe. Eagle County is well prepared for winter storms. They’ll start with the main roads first. Blow Out Hill is always last on their list.”
“I take it there’s no other way off the mountain?”
“Some of the local pilots keep their planes in the hangar over at Eagle County Regional Airport. They won’t come out unless it’s a true emergency. Life or death. Especially in this weather. So to answer your question, there is no way off the mountain other than by foot. I don’t think you want to risk taking those two kids outdoors in three feet of snow. Even if this were a true emergency, I wouldn’t be able to contact the airport.”
Contemplating her circumstances, Grace took a deep breath. As much as she hated the idea of being stuck there with a man she didn’t particularly care for, she realized she had to stay put. With any luck, a police officer would run across her van and remember they’d stopped her. Maybe, and it was a big maybe, one of the officers would run her plates and remember her. Someone had to figure out who she was and contact Hope House.
She said a silent prayer that her mother had decided to spend Christmas with her this year instead of staying home in Denver. She knew she would offer comfort to Stephanie until they discovered Grace’s whereabouts.
Bryce, her younger brother, was due to arrive Christmas Eve. This year would be the first time her entire family spent Christmas together at Hope House. Since its opening, Grace had always stayed at Hope House during the holidays if there were guests. She missed her mother and brother, but they both understood her need to make the women and their children feel as comfortable as possible. In some cases, a few of the women-only Christmas celebrations had been at Hope House. She prayed Stephanie would stay put until she could get word to her that the girls were fine and not in danger. Or at least not in any danger from the man that they’d been running from when they’d been brought to her doorstep by a police officer. Husband and father. It made her cringe just thinking of what the women at Hope House had gone through before they arrived. She was committed to doing whatever was humanly possible to assist them in turning their lives around. Being stuck on a mountain was simply a bump in the road compared to what they’d been through.
Lost in thought, Grace was about to sneak a quick glance at her host when everything went black.
“It never fails,” Max said in the darkness. “I’ve got flashlights and candles somewhere in here.”
Grace heard him opening and closing drawers. Rummaging through a few, he found what he was looking for when a thin beam of light illuminated the small space between them. “I’ve got a generator in the shed out back.”
“That’ll help,” Grace said as she inched her way to the kitchen table.
“Yeah. I’ve never used it.