An Allegheny Homecoming. T. McClure R.
“You’re safe here...and you can get warm. I think you might have hypothermia, and if we don’t get you inside, you’ll have frostbite for sure.”
Her gaze flicked between him, the truck and the cabin. Mumbling, she rested her forehead on her hand. The snow had already made her black jacket white.
He wasn’t sure, but Josh thought he heard something about going home. Lifting himself to his feet, he held out a hand. “Do you mind if we continue this conversation inside?”
She looked at his hand. “I can walk by myself.”
He withdrew. “Fine. You go on in, and I’ll shut off the truck.” He slammed the door and watched the petite woman lift one leg at a time from the deep snow. She teetered to one side, and he held his breath until she managed to right herself. She dragged herself onto the porch and then disappeared into the cabin.
Josh shut his eyes and lifted his face skyward. Snowflakes melted on his skin and gathered in his beard. He wished he hadn’t been the one to find the woman stuck in the drift. Maybe if he had kept going, one of the snowplow drivers would have found her. But by then, she could have frozen to death.
Josh didn’t want to be drawn into any small-town drama. He was still struggling with his parents and their issues. He didn’t feel like he had the full story yet about his mother’s weight loss, and why she and his father couldn’t work things out.
Through the cabin window, he could see the flicker of the fire he had started in the fireplace. The sight might be welcome to someone else, but not to Josh. He didn’t want to be here. The first glance he had of the cabin in years made him face the reality that the building was hardly fit for habitation, just as his mother had said. Maybe he should have driven her to the church. At least the flue was clear and able to take the smoke out into the storm. He opened the truck door again and retrieved the sleeping bag, pillow and his small duffel bag. He would help the lady warm up, but first thing tomorrow he was taking her home and going about the business that had brought him to Bear Meadows.
Supplies under his arm, he tromped through the snow. One foot on the first step, he paused at the sight of a few spindly branches sticking out of the pile of snow to the left. Something new since the last time he was home. The thorns on the branches indicated a rosebush, and knowing his mother, he bet she had rescued an heirloom shrub from somewhere and given it a new home at the cabin.
Stomping his boots on the porch, he opened the door. She sat cross-legged on the hearth, close to the roaring fire. Working as a medic in the desert didn’t give him much experience on frostbite, but he remembered a little bit from his training. One of the most important things was to warm the victim up slowly.
Hanging his parka on a hook by the door, he surveyed the space. The kitchen had a small fridge that, he remembered, needed a generator to run. A folded blanket, a quilt and camp supplies sat on the counter. There was an unfinished flight of stairs that led to a loft that looked out over the creek. But only two treads had been laid. The rest were stacked nearby. Obviously, his parents had stopped working on the cabin. But for now, the structure offered him and the lady a roof over their heads, protection from the winds and a fire for warmth. He had been lucky to find a pack of matches in a kitchen drawer. His gaze finally landed on the woman. Her chin rested on her chest. Walking toward the counter, he took the quilt and spread it on the floor in front of the fireplace. He lay his sleeping bag over top. She didn’t move, so he rested one hand on the woman’s shoulder. Her eyes flickered. She kept silent.
Josh knelt in front of her and reached for the zipper on one pretty black boot. One of the first signs of hypothermia was confusion. He glanced at her face, registering her breathing. He hoped she wasn’t too far along. At some point people needed medical care.
He removed both of her boots, and then her wet socks. Her feet were ice cold. He chanced a glimpse, but she said nothing. He found a pair of thick socks in his duffel bag. When he removed her coat and took off her gloves, he noticed the tips of her fingers were white. She was going to be in pain when the blood started circulating again. Warm her up slowly. He checked her face for signs of distress. Dark eyelashes lay upon white cheeks. Then he eased her onto the blanket and checked her pulse. She moaned and brought her hands close to her chest.
He looked around the cabin and found a two-burner camp propane stove and a metal coffeepot. His mother had probably been coming to the cabin to get away. And from what he remembered, she wasn’t often without a cup of coffee in her hand. Starting the propane heater, he poured water from the gallon jug into a pan and placed it on the stove. He was surprised to find a box of chamomile tea in a paper bag.
When the tea was ready, he carried the cup over to his visitor and jostled her shoulder. He knelt. “Wake up. You should drink this.”
Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to sit. Finally he placed an arm around her back for support. Brown eyes blinked. For the first time he noticed dark circles under her eyes. “What is it?”
“It’s hot tea. Can you hold the cup?” He handed it to her. Her shivers had reduced to an occasional shudder, but she was able to wrap her hands around the mug and sip.
She should be okay. Her pulse was strong. She was alert. He had done his civic duty.
* * *
THE STINGING IN her fingers and toes woke her. Then the growling of her empty stomach. When her eyes popped open, the first thing she saw, lying on her side as she was, was a log glowing in a stone fireplace. The rest of the room was pitch-black. She pressed her fingers against her lips. Despite the pins and needles feeling, the rest of her was warm and comfortable. But she had no memory of where she was or how she got here.
Her gaze flicked upward. A single box of matches lay on one corner of the carved mantel. No clues there. A broom, the kind witches were known to fly, stood in the far corner. Her monogrammed quilted jacket from the station hung over the back of a wooden chair a few feet back from the fire, next to a small table. Her boots had been placed neatly on the floor. She wiggled her toes and could feel heavy loose socks.
Then she noticed the weight across her middle. She ran her hand along an arm wrapped in flannel. Her breath hitched as she rolled halfway over. When she saw the dark beard, everything came rushing back. The interview at the church, the coffee with Phil, the drive home with snow coming down so thick she could barely see two feet in front of her, and then just as she drove up the slight incline to the bridge, her car sliding backward into a ditch.
Her car was in a snowdrift near the bridge over Little Bear Creek. And she didn’t know who had rescued her. She hazarded another look at the bearded face. If he had indeed rescued her. She lifted his arm and placed it on his hip. He continued to sleep, his breathing even. She threw back the covers and slowly stood. Despite the fire, the floor was freezing. She tiptoed over to the window and looked out on the darkness. The snow was still coming down. She could barely make out the hulking form of the pickup. She chose the wooden chair by the fire and took in her surroundings.
Apparently the cabin was a work in progress.
Her stomach rumbled again, and she remembered all she had eaten that day was a container of yogurt and the ham sandwich at the church. She reached around for her coat and laid it across her lap so she could check the pockets for food.
“I hope you’re not thinking about going back out into the blizzard.”
She jumped at the words coming from the sleeping bag. She glanced down, barely able to make out the glint from his eyes as they reflected the fire. “I was looking for food.”
One hand, then both arms emerged from under the sleeping bag. “You and me both. I missed supper.”
“I had a ham sandwich at the church.” The bearded man wore a wrinkled blue plaid shirt. The third button down hung by a few threads. She still didn’t know who or what she was dealing with here. She closed her fingers around the house key in her coat pocket. If he threatened her, she could always stab him. With the house key.
“I thought you were going into hypothermia. You were a little confused earlier.” He reached overhead and stretched with a loud yawn.