Snow Falls

chapter Three



Jen stopped short, watching the inviting wisp of smoke circling above the cabin. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting. Well, yes, she was. She was expecting a simple, weekend-type, one-room cabin. Nothing this elaborate.

Ryan turned back around, motioning to the door which was protected by a sharp, A-frame roof. Snow was piled around it four feet high.

“You coming in?”

Jen hesitated. “This is...this is where you live?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Alone?”

“Well, with the girls,” she said, glancing at the two dogs who waited patiently at the door.

Jen looked around, seeing nothing but white. Even the trees were still covered in glistening snow. “I don’t see a road,” she said.

“No.” Ryan shrugged. “Well, there’s the little Jeep road I use to get to the forest road, but that’s covered with packed snow. Until at least May.”

“So...” she said.

“So?”

“So what does that mean? May?” She could tell Ryan was quickly losing patience with her, but she didn’t know this woman. She could be an ax murderer or something.

“May is when I can get my Jeep out and drive to the forest road. You know, the one you were on. The one that was closed. The one that had a barricade across it. So that idiots don’t drive up here this time of year and get stuck. That’s what I mean. So are you coming in or not? I’m cold and it’s starting to snow again.”

Okay, so the “idiot” word was meant for her. She took a deep breath and nodded. She didn’t really have a choice. Darkness was nearly upon them. She looked up, watching the thickening snow falling around her. She mimicked Ryan, pausing to stomp her boots, knocking the snow off. The snowshoes Ryan had worn earlier were hanging on a hook beside the door, the poles shoved in a corner. Ryan silently handed her backpack to her, then closed the door behind them.

It was blissfully warm inside. Jen followed the dogs to the heat source—a black cast iron stove tucked into one corner. She dropped her backpack on the floor and tore her gloves off, holding out her hands to warm them. She hadn’t realized how cold she was until she was inside.

Ryan joined her, pausing to remove her wool cap. Her dark hair was shaggy and unruly, but all she did was run her fingers through it a few times. Jen stared, just now noticing how attractive she was. Jen, too, took off her cap, knocking off clinging snow that fell to the stove with a sizzle.

Ryan watched her, her gaze sliding from the top of her head to her face. Jen followed with her hand, trying to put some semblance of order to her hair.

“I’m sorry,” Ryan said. “I shouldn’t have called you an idiot.”

Jen smiled. “Well, I suppose it’s the truth. I suck with maps, directions. I was just so sure I was on the right road.”

“Technically, you were. During the summer, the forest road crosses the mountain and skirts Cooper’s Peak. It’s a nice shortcut for me when I go into town. But the lodge is not too far off of the highway, so you’d want to keep going up near Slumgullion Pass. On the paved road.”

“So you...you do go into town then?”

Ryan simply raised her eyebrows.

“I mean, living out here like this, I assumed you were...like a...hermit,” Jen said shyly.

Ryan gave a quick chuckle. “I prefer the term ‘recluse.’ Hermit sounds too much like an old crazy woman.”

“Okay, but essentially the same thing,” Jen said.

“And your point?”

Jen looked away from her dark gaze. “Just curious as to why,” she said.

“I don’t like people.”

Jen took a step away from her. “I see,” she said quietly.

Ryan held up her hands. “I’m harmless. Promise.”

Jen eyed her suspiciously. “And I’m really stuck here?”

“Afraid so. Cooper’s Peak drops its load every year. That’s why they close the road.”

“There was a metal bar across the road, yes. But tracks went around it and it looked well used,” she explained. Of course, at the time, she should have paid more attention. She was just too focused on not getting lost.

“Snowmobilers use it since it’s closed to vehicles,” Ryan said. “But the avalanche buries the road—like it did your SUV—and they won’t bother plowing the lower road until spring.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, but all of that means what? Besides the fact that I’m an idiot,” she said.

“Barring a helicopter rescue, that means you’re stuck here until the lower road is cleared. You’ll still have to hike down to that. Like I said, the road up here this high won’t be clear until May. But I’d think by mid-April, the lower road will be passable.”

April? “Two...two months?”

“Afraid so.” Ryan moved away from the stove, motioning to the kitchen area. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Actually, I really need to pee,” Jen admitted, looking around and wondering if the cabin boasted modern facilities. The kitchen appeared to be fully functional.

“This way,” Ryan said. Jen followed her down a short hallway with two doors. Ryan pushed open one, revealing a very large contemporary bathroom. Jen assumed the other was the bedroom. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment. The reality of her situation hit her full force, and she felt panic grip her. If Ryan hadn’t come along, she would have most likely been caught in the avalanche and killed. And, if she’d survived it, then what? With temperatures well below freezing, she probably wouldn’t have made it through the night.

But here she was, in a warm cabin about to use a flush toilet, in the middle of the proverbial nowhere. Miles from civilization. Sharing space with a “recluse.” And two dogs. For six weeks. Possibly eight.

She met her reflection in the mirror, uncertainty and panic giving way to dread. Could she survive being stuck here for two months?