The sound of heaving wood awoke her. Ginny sighed in sleepy satisfaction. Whatever the noise was, she was sure it couldn't begin to disturb her bliss. And yet another part of her was curious. Chase was up to something, she was sure; she wanted to know what it was. But to find out meant she had to abandon the warmth of the bed in front of the fire, something she was loathe to do. Maybe she could just wait until he came to tell her about it.
"Uhhh!" she heard him shout. She sat up, looking in the direction of his voice. He was in another part of the cabin. But what exactly he was up to was a mystery.
She slowly uncurled from her position on the mattress and held the open sleeping bag around her naked shoulders as she stood up. The cabin had become much colder in just the past few hours. Once the storm had hit, everything had changed. She figured that the temperature outside was near or below zero. The interior of the cabin was somewhere in the fifties, chilly even for someone like Ginny, who had lived in the Rocky Mountains sixteen years.
Clutching the sleeping bag at her waist, she walked in tiny steps like a geisha across the cold wooden floor. She came upon Chase standing on a chair in the hallway to the bedrooms, a crowbar in his hand as he worked on the attic door that was flush with the ceiling. He looked down at her and smiled but didn't stop his labor. Nor did he offer a reason for this inexplicable activity.
Ginny watched him, growing more curious by the moment. Her interest was piqued not as much by what he was doing but rather why the attic door was so difficult to pull down.
She could well understand why he was trying to get into the attic: because it was there.
"Where did you get the crowbar?" she asked at last.
"From the shed out back."
She watched him for another minute. "Are you hungry?"
"Why? What do you have in mind?" he tossed back, his tone full of suggestion. He looked at her with his warm brown eyes and winked.
Ginny gazed up at him, the aching in her heart making it hard to breath. He was wearing the black turtleneck and jeans he'd had on earlier in the day, before their lovemaking had taken possession of the morning. His clean-shaven face was still smooth even in the late afternoon.
He worked persistently at forcing open the attic door, his white teeth biting into his bottom lip. At last the door gave way to his muscle and jerked open. He pulled the hinged door downward to reveal collapsible stairs, which unfolded easily down to the floor. A rush of cold air from the attic swept down on them.
"I better make this quick," Chase said.
"What are you looking for?"
"I have no idea. I just wanted to see what was up here."
He took a flashlight and disappeared up the stairs. Ginny waited below, listening to him thump around. After a few minutes he reappeared at the top of the stairs with an armload.
"Look what I found," he said, coming down the stairs with a pair of antique cross-country skis as well as poles.
Ginny's hand moved over the slick surfaces of the ash-colored skis. "They're gorgeous," she remarked.
"I bet the Bakers don't even know these were there. The bindings are adjustable. You should try them out."
"Are you planning on us skiing our way out of here?"
"On the contrary. I was thinking that when the rescuers reach us, we can just disappear into the woods until they leave. With a little luck, maybe they'll just give us up for lost."
Ginny shook her head at him, smiling warmly at his suggestion. She too would have liked to ski into the woods and leave the real world behind. But eventually life, including her husband John, would catch up to them. In the meanwhile, she hoped to enjoy Chase as much as she could.
But for now there was the annoying business of putting on clothes. She went about the task with some reluctance, and not only because she had only one set of clothes to change into. She'd discovered herself in the past twenty-four hours in the arms of a younger man. Whatever Chase Nolan had been to her before—her son's best friend—he was much more than that now.
After dressing, Ginny returned to the kitchen to try to put together a meal out of the boxes and cans of food they had brought with them from her car. In the end she served up a palatable couscous with minced artichoke hearts and pita bread. Chase was kind enough to rave about it; Ginny was just grateful to have a stove that worked.
"Well, ready to try out those skis?" he suggested when the dishes were washed.
She knew there was no arguing with him. Snuggling into her down jacket and boots, she looked out the window at the heavy snowfall that had begun several hours earlier. She had grown relatively comfortable with copious amounts of snow. Nothing short of an all-out blizzard could rattle her…as long as she wasn't trying to
drive
in it.
They went outside using the back door since the front was already blocked with snowdrifts. The snow around the back door was accumulating as well and Chase stopped for a moment to shovel it away from the stoop. He'd already cleared an eight foot long path away from the door, gently tapering upwards towards the top of the snowfield.
"Okay, let's check those bindings," he said, adjusting the heavy leather straps around her boots. They were genuine Nordic skis of the best quality. He watched as she pushed off with the poles and worked the skis up the incline. Unlike downhill skis, cross-country bindings were flexible so that the legs could force the skis in a forward motion. He watched long enough to feel confident the bindings would work for her, then put on his own skis and pushed off after her.
They glided easily over the new snow. After twenty-four hours in the high altitude, Chase was starting to feel acclimated. He certainly didn't feel like the same person who had stepped off the airplane in Denver. But then, a lot had changed since then. He glanced at the woman beside him, a woman more than twice his age, who wasn't even breathing hard despite their pace. What felt like a cacophony of fractured thoughts screamed in his head as he looked at her. The future…his parents…her husband…Randy. People asking questions, making judgments. Oh yes, he knew what to expect from them all.
