Sweetbriar Cottage

by Denise Hunter

  She turned in his arms to face him, her movements slow and clumsy. “You mind?” she asked as she snuggled into his chest.

  “No.” The words had been building up over the past couple hours, ever since her confession. He had to say them. His heart hammered in his chest until he shook with the force.

  “Josie?”

  “Mmm.”

  He touched her face again, sliding his thumb along the curve of her cheek. “I never stopped loving you,” he said softly, the words coming from the deepest reaches of his heart. The confession was like a release. Something inside him, something that had gone hard and tight, loosened, unfurled.

  “You hear me, baby girl?”

  She turned her face into his neck. “L-love you . . . too. Noah.”

  The words washed over him like warm water. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  As relieved as he was to hear it, he didn’t like the way her sentences had grown shorter, her words blending together. He threw a leg over her, pulling her closer. A pine branch dug into his side, but he couldn’t think of anything but her warm breath on his neck.

  Josie tucked her hands between their bodies and clamped her teeth against the chattering. And here she’d always thought the Georgia heat and humidity would be the death of her. She was so cold.

  Don’t think about it.

  She focused instead on the night sounds that pressed in around them. On the roughness of Noah’s stubbled jaw against her temple. His warm breath on her skin. She’d never dreamed she’d be back in his arms. Not for any reason. She had another thought—something about a ten-foot pole, but she couldn’t assemble the words in her mind.

  “This is crazy.” Her words were slow and laborious. “That we’re here, like this.”

  He pulled her closer. “Pretty crazy. Pretty amazing.”

  She was glad she’d gotten to say her piece earlier. Though she couldn’t quite remember what she’d said just now. Didn’t matter. Even the cold didn’t seem to matter so much anymore.

  She woke to a tch-tch-tch. A puddle of light in the darkness. Cold. Reality settled around her, in a distant kind of way. As if she were dreaming.

  “Noah?” Her voice was a thready whisper.

  The tch-ing stopped. “I’m here.” He shuffled closer.

  She felt the warmth of him as he settled behind her. Comforted by his presence, she closed her eyes and began sinking back under. It was better that way.

  “Josie?”

  Her lips parted, but she couldn’t seem to form a response. Blackness closed in. So tired.

  “Josie?”

  The alarm in his tone gave her the determination to respond. “Mmm?”

  A zipping sound. A weight settling over her shoulders. Oblivion beckoned.

  “I know you’re cold, baby girl. Just—just promise me you’ll hang on. Don’t give up. Help’s on the way. I promise.” His words came as if from afar.

  “Josie?”

  It took everything in her to push out the word. “’Kay.”

  Noah woke sometime later. It had grown colder. Or maybe it just felt like it since his coat was around Josie now.

  Something felt wrong. He blinked against the fog in his brain, trying to figure out what it was.

  Josie. She wasn’t shivering anymore. She was still as death in his arms. Panic closed around his throat, suffocating.

  “Josie.”

  He pushed up. “Josie.”

  He pulled his glove. Felt for a pulse.

  Please, God. Please.

  He tried to still his own shivering as he searched. Time slowed to a crawl. Fear washed in, flooding him from the inside out.

  There it was. A pulse. It was weak. Slow. But it was there.

  He pulled the coat tighter around her, trying to keep her core warm. “Help is coming. You hear me, baby girl? Help is coming.”

  He sank back down, his pulse racing now, his body suddenly drained of energy.

  He made himself feel for the lighter in the pine boughs where he’d set it. He didn’t want to leave Josie even long enough to find his little nest of kindling. Besides, he was too tired to get up. He fumbled with the lighter before he finally grasped it. He tried again to produce a flame. Once. Twice. Three times.

  No use. He dropped the lighter and sank back down, exhausted from the effort.

  He set his hand on Josie’s back, reassured by the slow rise and fall. He couldn’t rid himself of the notion that he was failing her. A lump swelled in his throat, and the back of his eyes burned.

  “Jesus!” The raw plea ripped from his throat, full of so many things. Frustration. Anger. Love. Helplessness. The helplessness was a crushing weight.

  “Hang on, Josie,” he whispered into her ear. “Just hang on a little longer.” He tightened his arms around her, as if he could hold her there by sheer will. It was all he could do.

  Chapter 30

  His alarm was going off. The buzz tugged at his subconscious, but he couldn’t get his brain in gear. Worse, he couldn’t seem to open his eyes. They were dry—and cold, somehow. Everything was cold. Must’ve kicked off his blankets again.

  He tried to reach for his alarm, but his arm lay immobile, as if weighted by a pile of bricks. His legs, too, seemed frozen to the bed.

  He was paralyzed. Helpless. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he move? Why couldn’t he wake up? Was he dreaming? Was he in Afghanistan, injured, lying in the sand? Dying?

  The buzz persisted, feeding the panic that had begun swirling in his head. His heart was a bass drum in his chest, pounding out a driving rhythm. His lungs struggled to keep pace. And still he couldn’t move.

  The buzzing grew louder.

  Wake up.

  He pried his eyes open. Bright. So bright. He blinked, disoriented. There was no sand. No alarm clock. No bed.

  Only sunlight peering through skeletal branches. Snow. Cold.

  Josie!

  He rolled her onto her back, searched her neck frantically for a pulse. He couldn’t find it. Come on, come on! Where was it? And then he realized he was still wearing gloves. He jerked one off and tried again.

  Her skin was cold, a pale shade of gray. Her lips bleached of color. Her lashes lay still and lifeless against her ashen cheeks.

  “Josie!” The cry ripped from a raw throat.

  He’d slept too long. It must’ve been hours since he’d last checked on her.

  Idiot!

  His hand trembled uncontrollably, making it hard to feel anything. A moment ticked by. Two. His own heart stopped.

  And then he felt it. A tiny flutter against his fingertip. Irregular and slow. But present. He breathed again.

  Thank You, God. Oh, thank You.

  He set his hand against her cheek. “Stay with me, baby girl. Hear me?”

  And that’s when he heard it. The buzz. It was real. And it was getting louder.

  He looked up, listening, staring into the horizon where the sun glinted off the snow. It was real all right. It was the high-pitched whine of a snowmobile.

  His heart hammered against his ribs. Adrenaline flooded through him, providing much-needed energy. He pushed up.

  “Help!” he cried, the raspy word barely audible.

  They were downhill from the road and further hidden from view by the snow shelter he’d built. He struggled up, gathering Josie in his arms. He fumbled with her weight, hardly able to support his own.

  “Help!”

  The engine was getting louder. Surely coming this way. He had to get up the incline. His legs wobbled. His arms trembled. His muscles disobeyed him.

  Halfway up he realized he should’ve left her behind. Flagged down help. But his brain was encased in fog, and he couldn’t seem to clear it. Too late. He couldn’t leave her in the snow.

  He slipped on the slope, nearly dropping her. But he landed on his knees and pushed up again. Pressed on.

  “Down here!” The drone of the engine swallowed his words. Just a few more feet. Just a few more.

  He t
ook a halting step, then another. By the time he crested the hill he was out of breath and nearly ready to drop her. He sank to his knees, then his haunches, cradling her, his eyes peeled on the peak of the hill. Was it getting louder?

  Please, God.

  He strained to listen over his ragged breaths. It was. It was coming this way. The sound continued for what seemed like forever with no sled in sight.

  Could this be some kind of mind trick? A—what was the word? Not dream. Hallucination. He was pretty sure hypothermia caused them. And what a cruel joke that would be.

  But he wouldn’t be having such rational thoughts if he were hallucinating. Would he?

  And then there it was. Cresting the hill.

  Unless he was dreaming that up too.

  Let it be real. Please, God.

  The machine picked up speed, the whine louder and higher pitched. He saw a blue sled. Red knit hat. Gray coat. Surely his imagination hadn’t conjured up Mary Beth.

  He’d just struggled to his feet, Josie in his arms, as the machine came to a quick stop beside him. A wave of dizziness made him waver.

  “Please be real,” he whispered.

  “Noah!” Mary Beth slid off the sled. “Oh my gosh!”

  Real. She was real.

  His breath emptied. “T-take her . . . and go.” He trudged toward the machine. Josie needed help and now.

  But Mary Beth was messing with her phone.

  “Take her to the hospital!”

  “I’m calling for a medevac. It’ll be quicker.”

  He blinked. Of course. Wasn’t thinking straight.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, but she—she’s not. Tell ’em to hurry.” His teeth clattered together, making his words barely distinguishable.

  Mary Beth started talking to someone on the phone.

  His arm muscles burned. They were ready to give out. He lowered Josie onto the sled and fell onto the seat behind her, supporting her weight with his body.

  “Josie.” He lightly tapped her cheek. “Josie, honey . . . help is here. You hear me?” He felt for her pulse again, searching. Couldn’t find it.

  His chest went so tight he couldn’t breathe. Blood rushed in his ears, whooshing. He leaned forward, feeling for her breath.

  There. A soft puff of warmth against his cheek.

  “Hang on . . . baby girl. Hang on.”

  His throat swelled shut and tears stung his eyes. “Help is here,” he whispered. “Going to be all right.”

  Mary Beth approached. “Help is on the—Noah, your feet!”

  She was off the phone. He must’ve zoned out a minute. She was pulling off her own boots, putting them on Josie and putting his boots back on his own feet. He couldn’t feel them anymore. He fought to stay alert.

  Mary Beth said something, but he couldn’t process it. He blinked, trying to unscramble his thoughts.

  “Where’s your coat?” she asked.

  Finally understanding, he looked down and wondered the same thing.

  She touched his arm, grounding him. “Noah, where’s your coat?”

  He’d put it around Josie last night, hadn’t he? It must’ve fallen off somewhere. Unable to form words, he gestured down the hill.

  Mary Beth disappeared and returned what seemed like two seconds later with his coat. His arms wouldn’t seem to work. She helped him into it, zipping it for him.

  “They’re sending a medevac from Chattanooga. It won’t be long.” She pulled her gloves and felt for Josie’s pulse. “Hang on, honey.” She wrapped her warm hands around Josie’s neck and looked him in the eye. “Noah . . . you still with me?”

  “Y-yeah.”

  “Make room on that seat, bud. Let’s see if we can warm this girl up.”

  He heard a zipping sound. It was the last thing he remembered.

  Chapter 31

  CHI Memorial Hospital

  Chattanooga, Tennessee

  Present day

  From somewhere far away, from the depths of an endless tunnel, Noah heard a quiet hum. The sound grew louder. An insistent beeping joined the mix. Light pressed against his eyelids. Warm. Glorious. He reached for it.

  And found pain. A throbbing pain.

  Tired. So tired. Exhaustion pulled him back into the tunnel, and he went willingly.

  “Noah.”

  The word fell into the long tunnel, distant and faint. The hum was back. The beeping. Light and warmth washed over him like an ocean wave, and he gave himself over to it.

  “Noah . . . can you hear me?”

  He forced his eyes open. Lights glared. He squinted against them. Pain pricked his eyelids.

  A face hovered nearby. A stranger, her skin the color of cocoa. “You’re at CHI Memorial in Chattanooga. But you’re going to be all right.”

  Hospital. He shut his eyes against the light, trying to remember. Everything was foggy.

  The pain intruded, sharp, throbbing. He hurt everywhere. He tried to ask what happened but couldn’t make his tongue move. It was dry, stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  “You probably have a little amnesia, honey. You got lost in the mountains. You were hypothermic, but you’re going to be all right. Sounds like you and your friend had quite the adventure.”

  Mountains . . . hypothermic . . . friend . . .

  Josie.

  His eyes flew open. He tried to sit up, but his muscles were slow and weak. He told his legs to swing out of bed. They barely budged. A cord tugged. Beeping filled the room.

  The woman pushed against his chest. “Oh no you don’t.”

  Josie! He fought back. But he was as weak as a kitten.

  “Hey, you’re going to rip out your IV. Settle down now.”

  “Josie,” he rasped.

  “Your friend?”

  Another nurse appeared. He was helpless against the two of them. Flat on his back. He gasped for air. Tried to remember.

  The buzzing sound. Mary Beth. He couldn’t remember anything after.

  He found the nurse’s eyes. “Is Josie okay?”

  “She’s in surgery. They’re working to get her body temperature up. Don’t you worry; they’re taking good care of her.”

  Working to . . . That was tricky business, wasn’t it? He suddenly remembered a story he’d read. A bunch of fishermen rescued from the frigid North Sea. In the rescue ship they stepped below for a cup of hot tea. Every last one of them dropped dead from the shock to their systems.

  Panic sliced through him. Josie. He struggled to sit up again.

  “Now, now. None of that.” The nurses pushed him back, held him down with a force that belied their size.

  “If you don’t settle down we can’t check on her, now can we?”

  “That’s it. Just take it easy. I’ll bring back word. You’ve been through an ordeal yourself, you know. You need to rest.”

  He was suddenly exhausted. His weight sagged into the bed, his body like a lead weight. He fought to stay conscious, but the tunnel beckoned him. Pulled at his eyelids. And then there was darkness.

  “Noah? Are you awake?”

  He opened his eyes. Blinked against the glaring light. Found Mary Beth standing over the bed rail, frowning.

  “There you are. How are you feeling?”

  He wetted his lips. “Josie . . . How’s Josie?”

  She squeezed his hand. “She’s out of surgery. She’s doing all right. How are you feeling?”

  He hurt all over. He tried to move his fingers. They twitched. He tried to swallow and found his throat dry and swollen.

  “Thirsty.”

  She produced a cup with a straw.

  He forced his lips around it, swallowing greedily.

  “Take it easy.”

  His head fell back against the pillow, his breath coming quickly. “Want to see Josie.”

  “Soon. I just checked with the nurse. She’s not alert yet, but her body temperature is rising nicely.”

  He remembered what the nurse had said. “What was the . . . surgery for?”


  Mary Beth set the drink on the rolling table. “They put a catheter into her abdomen to warm her organs with fluids. They also flushed her veins with warm saline through an IV. Same as you.”

  “She’s going to be all right?”

  “That’s what they tell me. Seth’s on his way. So are your parents. They’re flying home.”

  He wouldn’t feel settled until he saw Josie for himself. Until he saw her cheeks flushed with color, her skin warm with life, looking like his Josie again.

  Chapter 32

  Ms. Mitchell?” A persistent tap beckoned from someplace far away.

  “Josie, wake up.”

  She wanted it to go away. The voice. The tapping. She tried to say so, but nothing happened.

  The tapping brought a consciousness that made her aware of her body. Of the pain. Heavens to Betsy, the pain. Her toes. Her legs. Her stomach. She tried to move, and someone whimpered.

  “That’s it, open your eyes.”

  Brightness. Blinding.

  “Someone’s been asking after you.”

  The face floating over her came into focus. A dark-skinned woman stared down at her with kind brown eyes. A nurse.

  Josephine felt as if she’d been gone a long time. But she didn’t know where she’d been.

  “What—” She cleared her throat, wincing against the pain. “What happened? Where am I?”

  “You’re at CHI Memorial in Chattanooga. You’ve suffered hypothermia, but you’re going to be all right.”

  Hypothermia?

  Tired. She was so tired. But she had to think. She remembered getting stuck at Noah’s place. Looking for the horse. Memories marched in fast-forward. Running out of gas, falling through ice, pain and cold, lying under the starless night in Noah’s arms.

  “Noah.”

  The nurse placed a hand on Josephine’s shoulder, weighing her down. “Noah’s just fine. Settle down. We’re taking good care of him. I’m afraid you got the brunt of it.”

  Josephine melted into the bed, her body limp and useless. The beeping on the monitor was fast and frantic. Her head was full of cotton.

  The woman checked a bag hanging nearby. “That’s some ex you got, honey. Heard tell he gave you his boots and coat. Mine would’ve left me to freeze to death.”