by Karen Legasy
Jo shrugged and sat on the floor next to Mollie. She began to massage her dog’s floppy ears, taking comfort in the soft skin and fur. Her clothes were still damp, but she was damned if she’d try to get out of them now. She should have been almost home by this time.
“Can we start over?” Sam fidgeted in her chair. “I promise to be good from now on. Besides, I’m getting hungry. We should eat. I made a pot of chili this morning—it’s been warming all afternoon. I hope you like chili.”
So that’s what was cooking. The garlic aroma had been teasing her taste buds ever since they got inside. “I’m vegetarian.” Jo kept her focus on Mollie.
“Good. It’s vegetarian chili.” Sam’s chair squeaked against the floor as she rocked.
“You’re a vegetarian?”
The dimples broadened “No, not at all. I’m a carnivore, but I prefer vegetarian chili.”
“What can I give Mollie? She’s used to dog food. She needs a water dish too.”
“Grab some bowls out of the cupboard.” Sam motioned to one with the door slightly ajar.
“I wouldn’t want to use your dishes for my dog.” Jo caught a faint whiff of varnish as she pulled open the door to three small shelves of mismatched dishes.
“I don’t have anything else,” Sam said. “Besides, she’s special in this cottage. Get water from the tap and grab a steak or two out of the fridge to feed her. She can sleep in my bed, too, if she wants. You can put her between us if you like.”
She actually expected them to sleep together? Jo took one of the bowls and gave Mollie a drink then looked in the crowded fridge. A big carton of orange juice almost fell out as she tried to find something for Mollie. “Is anyone else staying here with you?”
“Nope. Just me. I’ll be here for a while, so thought I’d stock up.” Sam’s chair kept up a steady rock.
“I see.” Jo took out a plate of cooked chicken breast covered in cellophane and held it up. “Okay if I give this to Mollie?”
“For sure. Give her whatever.” Sam stood, her chair continuing to rock without her as she clutched the quilt. “I think you should get out of your wet clothes too. You’re shivering. I have extra sweats and shirts in my room that should fit. I’ll get them.”
Jo followed Sam into the tiny bedroom that smelled sweetly of damp pine. It had a queen bed in the middle, a small chest of drawers against the wall, and hooks full of clothes behind the door. A window looked out over the lake, light fading with the setting sun.
Sam handed Jo an armful of clothes. “You can have a hot shower before changing. My grandfather had a well and septic system installed years ago, so it’s not really like roughing it.”
“That would be nice,” Jo said, “but I think you should go first. You’re still full of goose bumps.”
“All right. Please make yourself comfortable. Eat whatever you want and relax by the fire. I won’t be long.”
Jo left the dry clothes on the bed and sat by the woodstove while Sam went into the bathroom. She realized she’d better call her mother to let her know she wouldn’t be home tonight. They didn’t live together, but since Jo often worked alone in the bush, her mother insisted she check in at the start and end of each day she was out by herself. She pulled out her cell phone—three bars. It was usually harder to get a good signal this far out.
Her mother picked up on the second ring, TV blaring in the background.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Jo! I’m glad you’re home. It’s supposed to snow again tonight, and I was beginning to worry about you getting stuck in the bush.”
“I’m not at my place. I’m staying in a cottage at Button Lake.”
“Button Lake.” Her mother gasped and the television suddenly silenced. “Nobody stays there in the winter. What happened? Did you get stuck and have to break into a cottage?”
“No.” Jo sighed. “It’s a long story. I had to help a woman at one of the cottages. There wasn’t time to get back to my truck before dark and she offered to let me stay.”
“She’s out there by herself? Who is she?”
“Her name is Samantha White, and she’s at one of the cabins on the south side of the lake.” Jo looked at the small Arborite table beside the kitchen counter. “She said it was her grandfather’s.” She glanced toward the bathroom door, the taps turning on. “It has running water and everything. It’s really cozy on the inside with pine walls and ceilings.” Jo scanned her surroundings, a few framed bird prints hanging by the woodstove—probably pages from an old calendar.
“I know that cottage,” her mother said. “The owner’s name was Roy. I heard his granddaughter is a lesbian.”
“Mom, you say it like there’s something wrong with her. Don’t forget that I’m a lesbian too.”
“I knew it.” Sam stood outside the bathroom door, a large towel wrapped around her.
Jo cringed. “I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Be careful, dear. You don’t know this woman.”
Jo put the phone down, cheeks burning. “I thought you were in the shower.”
“I almost was, then remembered the chili needs a stir.” Sam smiled. “Do you still live with your mother?”
“Of course not.” Jo’s jaw tightened as she moved toward Mollie. “I needed to let someone know where I am.” She knelt on the rug and reached for the soothing fur. Mollie’s back was hot from the fire.
A spoon clanked against the pot as Sam stirred the chili. “So you live by yourself?”
“No.” Jo turned away, hoping Sam would just go back in the bathroom.
“Well, who do you live with, then?” Sam hovered in the doorframe.
“That’s none of your business.” She lived with Mollie, which was enough. She didn’t want to talk about her love life, or lack thereof, with anyone, let alone this strange woman.
“I’m trying to make conversation, that’s all.” Sam retreated into the bathroom, the door closing. Water splashed as the shower turned on.
Jo sat by the fire and contemplated walking to her truck in the fading light instead of spending the night sleeping here with Sam. Her clothes were wet, though, and it wouldn’t be safe. She was stranded for the night.
Chapter Three
The bathroom door eased open and a refreshed woman emerged from the mist. Jo had lingered in the shower, and Sam was pleased to see her looking much more relaxed after a long soak.
“It smells so good in here.” Jo’s nostrils flared, her stomach growling loud enough for Sam to hear. “Oops. Sorry.” She patted herself.
Sam lay sprawled on the floor beside Mollie and the fire, petting the tail-thumping golden retriever. “You have a beautiful dog. How long have you had her?”
Jo knelt beside Mollie and stroked her. “It’s already been three years. She’s a good friend. The best, actually.”
“I can see that.” Sam tried not to stare at Jo’s feathery blond hair, the tips still wet from the bath. “She’s so gentle and well-behaved.”
“Golden retrievers make good pets and are great companions. She’s very smart too.”
“It was unbelievable how she helped you on the dock. You must have trained her well.”
“I had to. She’s often my only partner when I’m working in the bush. We rely on each other.”
“And when you’re not working in the bush? Who’s your partner then?”
“I think it’s time to eat.” Jo stood and shuffled to the kitchen stove. She stirred the chili, sniffing a steaming spoonful. “Mmmm. I can’t wait.”
As they worked in silence to get things ready for dinner, Sam contemplated Jo’s reluctance to discuss anything personal. She sensed sadness in Jo, the way she ignored the question about having a partner. Had someone broken her heart?
It took less than five minutes to set the small dining table, including lit candles and full wineglasses that gave a romantic aura to the comfortable cottage in the middle of the bush. Mollie stayed next to the fire while Jo and Sam ate.
Jo d
ipped a piece of bread into her bowl. “This is really good. I love chili with bran and lots of vegetables. You’re a good cook.”
“Thanks.” Sam smiled.
“I don’t picture you as the type of person who likes to cook.” Jo sipped her red wine. Her cheeks were beginning to flush an attractive shade of pink.
Sam nibbled at her bun. “My talents are better outside the kitchen, but I do have a few favorite recipes I can manage to whip up.” She looked up and caught Jo’s gaze. “Do you like to cook?”
“Sometimes, especially in winter. It always helps warm me up when I eat a good hot meal on a cold day.”
“Like today?” Sam sure felt like Jo was warming up, the way she seemed to be enjoying dinner. Heck, so was she. She was certain she was blushing.
Jo cleaned the bottom of her bowl with the last of her bun. “Yep. This was really good. Thanks.”
“What kind of food do you like to make?”
Jo played with her paper napkin, straightening out the wrinkles and folding it into little squares. “Just about anything vegetarian. I especially like Asian and East Indian dishes.”
“So do I.” So they shared similar tastes in food. That was a plus.
Sam listened to the fire crackling and Mollie’s soft snoring from her place by the stove. It seemed surreal, as though their meeting was meant to be.
Jo got up and began to clear the table, a perfect guest. She carried their bowls to the kitchen sink and filled it with soap and water. She found the small dish drainer in the cupboard beneath the sink, putting it on the counter as though a familiar routine.
Sam got up to help, taking the rest of the chili out of the pot and putting it into a bowl for the fridge. There was barely enough room for the two of them to work together in the small kitchen as she constantly hit against the table edge in her effort to give Jo some room.
Sam was impressed with the way Jo took control. Her confidence, her bravery out on the lake this afternoon was outstanding. And now here she was again, taking lead on the simple task of initiating cleanup after supper. She seemed so self-assured, so in control.
“Who else do you cook for, besides yourself?” Sam asked. She was going to find out if this woman was single, dammit.
Jo buried her hands in the suds. “I often make extra for my mother.”
“Does she live near you?” She picked up a dishtowel and dried a few utensils.
“Not really, but it’s all relative, I guess. Timmins isn’t that big, so it doesn’t take long to run back and forth between our places.”
Sam reached for the bowl, dripping and still warm from the water as she began to dry it. She felt like they were on a first date—a good one at that. “What’s your place like?”
“I live on a five-acre property.” Jo started washing a wineglass as the blackened window above the sink covered in steam. “It’s on the outskirts of town.”
“Wow. But don’t you find it lonely living in the country by yourself?” Sam liked living in a city, even though she was enjoying being out in the bush right now.
“Not at all.” Jo glanced toward the stove where Mollie lay on her side, legs stretched out and eyes closed. “I have Mollie to keep me company, and my life’s too busy to get lonely.”
Sam tilted her head. She was so glad this confident and attractive woman had come to her rescue. “What keeps you so busy?”
“My work. That’s my life these days, and I love what I do, so it’s a good fit.”
“Were you working today?”
“Of course.” Jo tackled the big pot from the chili, water splashing as she scrubbed at the bottom. “I noticed you have a lot of food in your fridge. How long are you here for?”
“For at least the next month.”
“Okay.” Jo rinsed the pot and handed it to Sam to dry. “And then what?”
“I’ll go back to my place in Toronto.” She didn’t want to think about that for now. Her life back there was so pathetic, given her recent breakup and history of superficial relationships with younger women. Now, as she chatted with this self-assured woman, Sam felt herself warming to the prospect of getting to know someone so much more mature than what she was used to. It was even a bit intimidating.
“When did you bring all of your stuff here?” Jo finished with the dishes and went over to wipe down the table. She was clean too—another mark in her favor.
“I drove it in on Wednesday, before all the snow.” Sam put the pot away and hung her towel to dry. “I thought the plows would have been here by now.”
“They don’t keep this road plowed in winter,” Jo said. “Didn’t you know that?”
“Wait, what? You’ve got to be kidding. I can’t stay out here all winter.”
“Well, your car will have to unless you pay someone to plow it out.” Jo folded her arms and leaned against the counter in front of the sink.
“It’s not a car. It’s a four-wheel drive SUV. I thought it would be good for northern roads and that’s why I bought it. Shit. What am I going to do now?”
All of her plans, out the window. She had planned to go into town every few days, do some shopping, stock up on groceries. Maybe even have a coffee in a place that vaguely resembled civilization. Now…
Jo was looking down at her cell phone. “We’re getting more snow tonight. I can put you in contact with a grader operator if you want. It probably won’t happen for a few days, though, because everyone will be busy opening up hauling roads. Even my truck will most likely be snowed in for a day or two.”
Sam squeezed her fidgeting hands together in an effort to calm down. “How did you drive your truck out here today?”
“I took one of the logging roads on the other side of the lake.” Jo clicked off the light over the sink and headed toward the woodstove.
“I could use the logging road to get in and out of my cottage, then?” Sam followed as Jo sat down on the braided rug beside Mollie.
Jo shook her head, patting the dog’s side. “I doubt it, unless you’re good with a compass and want to hike for over an hour each way through thick bush. Wow, I can’t believe how hot she is.”
“What if I have a compass?” Her grandfather’s was on the bookshelf, beside his binoculars. Surely one of the books would teach her how to use it.
“I don’t imagine you have a block heater and even if you did, there’d be no place to plug your vehicle in.” Jo folded her knees under her arms. “When the temperature drops out here, you’ll never be able to start it without a block heater.”
Sam plopped into the rocking chair. “I’m really fucked, then. I thought I could stay out here for the month and go into town every few days. I have no intentions of becoming a hermit. I need Internet access and there’s none here except for my phone. Which doesn’t always get the best signal.”
Jo shrugged her shoulders. “I guess you’ll have to go back to Toronto, then.”
“Nope. Not happening.” She would find a solution. She had to. Going back after everything was just…nope. Not now.
“Then you’ll have to find a place to rent in town, because you can’t stay out here unless you want to buy your own grader.”
“Maybe I’ll get a snowmobile,” Sam said.
“My suggestion would be to rent a room in town and buy a pair of snowshoes so you could hike in on the weekends. What are you doing out here by yourself, anyway?”
“I needed to get out of town.”
“So you’re hiding out.” Jo rested her chin on her knees, looking almost like a kid, gazing up with those big blue eyes. “You’re not running from the law, are you?”
“No.” Sam sighed. “It’s…complicated.”
Chapter Four
Jo watched as Sam abruptly shoved a few more birch logs into the woodstove.
“Why did you need to get out of town?” Jo asked, somehow afraid of the answer. “To come all the way up here and hide in the bush seems a bit drastic. Toronto’s a big city, with lots of places to tuck yourself away.”
&n
bsp; Sam jabbed at the fire with the brass poker. “I needed some space. A change of scenery is good too.”
“Well you certainly got that. Stranded in the middle of the bush in deep snow.” Jo suppressed a smile. It was a bit amusing to see this cocky woman struggling because of poor planning.
Sam shut the stove door and brushed woodchips and small pieces of bark off her knees as she stood. “I’d rather be stuck in deep snow than deep shit.”
“Sounds pretty bad.” Jo smirked, smoke from the opened stove door dissipating around the toasty cottage. “Should I be worried, spending the night out here alone with you?”
“It depends.” Sam chuckled as she sat back down in the rocking chair. “If you’re afraid of getting your heart broken, then yes.”
Jo’s fingers dug into Mollie’s skin as Sam rocked back and forth. It figured. Another heartbreaker. Dammit to hell. The last type of woman she wanted to be trapped with in a cozy cottage in the middle of the bush. Especially one that was so attractive. Jo determined to protect herself even more, refusing to be charmed by someone who seemed so unfazed by it all. “You’re running away after breaking someone’s heart?”
Sam began fidgeting with the string on her sweatshirt. “Sort of, if you could call it love, but I didn’t mean for her to become so needy. It was suffocating; I couldn’t take it. Especially since I didn’t feel the same sense of commitment.”
Jo shifted, no longer amused with the situation. “How long were you together?”
“About six months. She was shocked when I said I wanted out. I wish lesbians didn’t have to take sex so seriously all the time.”
“And you don’t?”
“No. Just because I want to have sex with someone doesn’t mean I’m in love and want to spend the rest of my life with her. Can’t people just have sex for fun anymore?”
Jo leaned back and held on to Mollie’s tail like a life support. “Not everyone feels the same. At least you didn’t wait for twenty years.”
Sam stopped rocking and looked at Jo with sympathetic eyes. “Is that your story? Is that why you’re single?”
“You make it sound like there’s something wrong with being single.” The last thing she needed, or wanted, was sympathy.