Mountain Midwife

Despite her determination not to scamper, she dashed into the bedroom, closed the door and leaned against it. Her heart beat fast. The warmth from the shower was replaced by an internal flush of embarrassment that rose from her throat to her cheeks. If he could decimate her composure with a single glance, what would happen if he actually touched her?

In spite of the burning inside her, she realized that the temperature in the bedroom, away from the propane fireplace, was considerably cooler than in the front room. The double bed was piled high with comforters and blankets. Would she sleep in that bed with Cole tonight? As soon as the question formed in her mind, she banished it. Sleeping with the enemy had no place on her agenda.

Inside a five-drawer bureau, she found clothing—mostly long underwear and sweats—in several sizes. It was easy to imagine a family coming to this weekend retreat for cross-country skiing or ice skating or snowmobiling. When this was over, Rachel fully intended to reimburse the cabin owners and thank them for saving her life.

After she slipped into warm sweats and socks, she eyed the bedroom door. Cole was out there, waiting. Physically, she couldn’t avoid him. But she could maintain an emotional distance. She remembered motorcycle man and the flaming leather jacket. Any involvement with Cole would lead inevitably to that same conclusion.

She straightened her shoulders. I can control myself. I will control my emotions.

She opened the door and entered the front room. Cole was still sitting in the rocking chair. Without looking up, he said, “I think Goldie’s had enough milk.”

“How many ounces are left in the bottle?”

He held it up to look through the clear plastic. “Just a little bit at the bottom.”

“Did you burp her?”

“I do that by putting her on my shoulder, right?”

“Give me the baby,” she said.

When he transferred the swaddled infant to her, their hands touched. An electric thrill raced up her arm, and she tensed her muscles to cancel the effect.

He took a step back. His baggy gray sweatsuit didn’t hide the breadth of his shoulders, his slim torso or long legs. His gaze assessed her as though deciding how to proceed. Instead of speaking, he went to the front window and peered through the gap in the green-and-blue plaid curtains. “It’s still snowing hard.”

“This morning they predicted at least a foot of new snow.” A weather report wasn’t really what was on her mind.

“It’s mesmerizing. I didn’t actually see snow falling from the sky until I was nine years old.”

“Not so pretty when you’re caught in a blizzard.” She did a bouncy walk as she patted Goldie on the back.

“I never want to do that again.”

“Tomorrow morning, we shouldn’t have to walk too far. All we need to find is a working telephone.”

Then they could call for help. She and Goldie would be safe. Cole was a different story. When the police came to her rescue, he’d be taken into custody. Would he turn himself in without a fight? Or would he run?

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