by Dani Collins
“Okay.” Wendy grew more alert as she adjusted to this news, nodding in thought. “We’ll have an early dinner in case the power goes out. Who was guiding today? Jim and Brenda?”
“Jim and Kyle. I told them we were booked solid. They hunkered down at the day lodge. They have the leftover food, sleeping bags and the emergency heater. They’ll be fine for the night,” Ted assured her.
“Good.” Wendy’s expression was still thoughtful.
“Uhhhh…” Finn said, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Oh, Ted. This is my, um, friend. Finn Garrett,” Kristen belatedly introduced.
As they shook, Finn said, “What does it mean that the gates on the highway are closed? Because I only dropped by for coffee. I was planning to carry on to Dillon.”
“Sorry, pal. You’re here for dinner and breakfast at least,” Ted said.
“Except we’re sold out,” Kristen said with alarm. She looked to Wendy who always seemed to have a solution for every unexpected turn.
“We’ll find room.” Wendy held up a hand. “Don’t panic. Normally, we’d offer the apartment over the cat shed, but you said there’s a bat in there, didn’t you?” Wendy said to Ted.
“Aren’t they hibernating?” Sarah asked with a perplexed frown.
“It might be something else. I’m not sure,” Ted mumbled. “I’ll check again.”
“I’ve slept on the floor of a hospital,” Finn said. “A sofa or an armchair is luxury, as far as I’m concerned.”
“We can do better than that. We’ll see if that bat found its way out,” Ted assured him. “If it hasn’t, we’ll show it the exit.” He was scratching the back of his head in a way that made Kristen think he was hedging in some way. “I’ll take you over with me in the cat, once I get the guests and their equipment squared away.”
“Do you need a hand?” Finn offered.
“I can manage.” Ted paused at the top of the stairs. “But you should get your luggage before you can’t tell which car is yours.”
“Roger that.” Finn nodded, glanced at Kristen and gave her an inscrutable look, then headed to the front door.
Ted went down the stairs.
“You guys don’t look too worried. This has happened before?” Kristen watched Wendy start the oven and take the basket out of the big coffee maker.
“Sometimes the power goes out.” Sarah moved her bookmark to the page she was holding open with her finger. She left her book on the table by the nearly empty plate of cookies. “Then we get to roast hot dogs for dinner in the fireplace.” She moved into Wendy’s line of sight and linked her hands under her chin, blinking her eyes in supplication.
“Yes, you can roast hotdogs with the kids,” Wendy granted.
Sarah punched the air over her head. “Yes!”
“It’ll keep them amused while we’re waiting for the lasagna and garlic toast to cook. I want to start that right away in case the power does go out.” Wendy went into the garage where a stand-up freezer held all her pre-made casseroles.
“What else do you do when something like this happens?” Kristen asked Sarah as she took out the charcuterie boards.
“Play games. Looks like we’ll get to see if you and Finn are as good a team as you said you were.”
Chapter Six
Ted invited Finn into what looked like a modified airport shuttle bus. It had big windows, a cargo cage on top, and tracks instead of wheels. It puttered at about five miles an hour toward a big green barn set well back from the chalet and cabins. Ted hit a button as they approached and the big door began to rise.
“When you said ‘cat shed,’ I wasn’t sure what to expect,” Finn drawled.
“Heard ‘cat house,’ did you? It’s not that sexy, I’m afraid.” Ted parked inside the building and cut the engine. “I have to do a few checks, but I’ll show you the room first.” He swung the lever that opened the door, but stayed in the driver’s seat. “Listen, there’s no bat. I’m hiding a Christmas present up there. Can I trust you?”
“Doctor-patient privilege forbids me from sharing anything you tell me.”
“You’re a doctor?” Ted stood to exit ahead of him.
“Resident.” Finn followed and Ted led him out a side door. Finn helped him knock snow off the mesh stairs as they went up them.
“How do you know Kristen?” Ted asked as they went.
“Grew up next door to her. Her brother is my best friend.”
It was a teenaged crush. I got over it very quickly.
That had stung. He couldn’t deny it. Then she’d thrown Hannah in his face.
He shouldn’t have brought anyone to Carson’s wedding. It had been a defense strategy against doing something stupid. Kristen had just finished her degree and was about to embark on her dream of taking a job in Europe. He’d been a broke student with years to go before he had anything tangible to offer her.
So you came here to ask me to forgive you?
Had he? He didn’t know exactly why he was here. Driving north toward Montana through Idaho, he had reached the fork in the road where he could carry on to his old hometown, or veer off and see Kristen. He had come here.
“This is where I lived with my first wife when Sarah was born.” Ted opened the door and clicked on the light. “I keep it heated so the pipes don’t freeze downstairs. And for emergencies like this. Staff and family use it sometimes.”
It was one bedroom with a small bath. The furniture was dated, but in good shape. The cupboards were due for a coat of paint and the appliances were the undersized kind found in trailers and campers, but it was clean and comfortable and way better than sleeping in his car.
“Nicer than any dorm I’ve ever lived in.”
“There’s not much for food. Can of soup maybe. Check the dates. But help yourself to the instant coffee downstairs in my workshop. You might even find a beer down there. I went on the wagon recently…” Ted scratched under his beard as he gave Finn another considering look. “Solidarity with Wendy, not that we’re big drinkers. Too many people to look after, but, uh, let me show you what I’m hiding.”
In the bedroom, he went to something hidden by a paint-streaked sheet. The object was about four feet tall by three feet long. Ted dragged the sheet away to reveal…
A cradle.
It was made of short, slender log rounds, each one barked and sanded smooth then polished a satiny white gold. The bed was suspended between a pair of uprights by a length of sturdy but elegant chain.
“You made this?” Finn had always admired people who were good with their hands. He could swing a hammer without damaging his thumbs, but he was more laborer than carpenter.
“Is it too rustic? I thought about getting one of those kits, but they seemed too frou-frou for what she usually likes. I mean, look at me,” Ted joked.
He was rugged, but not exactly a Sasquatch.
“It’s beautiful. It’ll suit the chalet perfectly.”
“It’s on wheels so she can take it into the office or kitchen…wherever she needs to be.” He gave it a little back and forth roll to demonstrate. “I’ve been trying to find some kind of fabric to wrap these chains. I might have to let Wendy figure that out. I’m not much of a seamstress. And I started to buy a mattress online, then realized she’d see the purchase. I really want to surprise her.”
Amusement tugged at Finn’s lips. Ted was the quintessential excited father tripping over himself in his eagerness to please his expectant wife.
“I won’t say a word,” Finn promised. “Sarah doesn’t know?”
“No. We’re going to tell the whole family at Christmas.”
“Ah. Well, Sarah was worried about Wendy having a nap today. I might have to pronounce she has a virus and needs to rest up so she’ll be full strength by Christmas.”
“That’d be good.” Ted’s hand went to the back of his head again. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure Sarah is going to be over the moon crazy for this news, but…”
Finn wanted to pat the man
’s shoulder. “At her age, I’m sure she’ll be tickled to be a big sister.”
“Yeah.” Ted sounded as though he was trying to reassure himself. “Yeah, she’ll be fine.” He thumbed toward the door. “I’ll run down and put my machine to bed. You get settled. I’ll drive back in the plow. You’ll have to walk, but at least if you follow me, you won’t get snow in your boots.”
“Sounds good.”
Ted left and Finn picked up the discarded sheet. He gave the cradle a nudge, watching how smoothly and silently it rocked.
If he had stuck with football, would he be married and have children by now? At one time, his plan had been to do exactly that. Play, marry, have kids, then look into a second career after he retired from football.
Kristen had left for college planning to get a degree, travel, establish herself in her career, then settle down when the time was right. Even their youthful optimism had known it was a long shot for them to stay together while they both went after all their brass rings.
One of us was going to pull the pin eventually.
She was right that they should have ended it with the summer, but he hadn’t been able to. Not then. Not yet.
He had been determined to hang on to what they had right up until the concussion had forced him to re-evaluate exactly which dream he wanted to chase.
He was glad he’d made the switch to medicine when he had. Both his brain and body would have taken a beating and there was no way he would want to go back to the beginning of his physician training at this age and stare down all the years of schooling that were now behind him. Being so close to the finish line was enormously gratifying.
But at moments like this, when he had time to come up for air, he realized how much of his life he had pushed into the vagueness of ‘someday.’ If Kristen had stayed in his life, he instinctively knew, this would have been a higher priority.
It would come, he assured himself as he draped the sheet over the cradle. One thing he’d learned from football was that you couldn’t lose focus at the end of the game, even when you were ahead. Especially when you were ahead. Now was the time to dig deep and stay the course.
He would get through his residency and, once the marching band started, he could think about how the rest of his life would unfold.
*
The men took a while to come back. When they did, they were flushed from shoveling. Ted had driven back in a small plow with a blade, but he and Finn had done a lot of hand shoveling around the cabins and steps to ensure all the guests could come and go without slipping.
“I’d like to say there will be less to shovel tomorrow, but I doubt it’ll make much difference,” Ted said as they came up from the basement after leaving their boots and jackets below.
“I told the McIntyres you might be persuaded to set up a dart tournament.” Wendy stopped bustling long enough to offer Ted an unmelted s’more. “The Jacksons and Giffords sounded interested, too.”
“I’m on it.” He thanked her for the s’more and went back down the stairs.
“What can I do?” Finn asked.
Kristen flashed him a small smile, unsurprised he was so quick and willing to help, but grateful all the same.
“You can relax,” Wendy said. “Kristen and I have it under control.”
“You should probably let your mom know that you won’t make it home tonight,” Kristen reminded him.
“Ted has a landline in the shed. He let me use it. She sends her love.”
“Oh.” Kristen had to clear her throat. “Love back,” she tried to say lightly, but quickly ducked her head and picked up a tray of condiments and buns, hurrying them into the dining room.
Finn followed with the tray of s’more ingredients.
Sarah had organized the kids on short stools in front of the fireplace. They each held long metal roasting sticks with heat-resistant handles that were kept on hand for this very activity.
It smelled and sounded like a campfire in here. Mr. Entwhistle had been a Scout master and high school principal before retiring. He was happily teaching the kids campfire songs while he supervised them.
“Hi, Finn. Do you want a hot dog?” Sarah called over when she saw him.
“I do. They smell like my summer fishing trips with my dad.”
“I would have thought those smelled like frying fish,” Kristen teased.
“In the later years, yes. Early on, Dad spent most of his time fishing me out of the water. We ate a lot of hot dogs.”
Finn shook hands with Mr. Entwhistle and nodded at the women on the sofa as he tucked himself into the group like one of the kids. Once he got his hot dog roasting, he glanced at the little girl next to him. “You look like you enjoy fishing. What’s the biggest shark you ever caught?”
“I didn’t catch any sharks!” the little girl said with a giggle. “Just a…” She whipped her head around, looking for her mom.
She and Mrs. Entwhistle had discovered they were both quilters. They’d brought down their bags to talk squares and stitch patterns.
“It was a trout, sweetie,” her mom said.
“A trout,” she told Finn. “And it was…”
“Whoop.” He caught her stick before she let it go, saving her dinner from turning to charcoal.
She held up her little hands about six inches apart. “That much.”
“Yeah? That’s almost as big as you. Is this your brother? Hi, I’m Finn. What’s the biggest goose you ever caught while fishing?”
Kristen gave up pretending there was an art to setting out mustard and relish and openly stood there to listen to Finn be silly with the kids. She had forgotten he was capable of such complete nonsense.
“Hey, Kristen. You know what I saw on my drive here?” He glanced over with a grin that was so full of anticipation and mirth, it made her heart flip over.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “What?”
He looked back at the kids, making sure he had their attention.
“I am going to tell you the funniest thing I ever heard. Anytime I feel like I need a laugh, I think of this. I want you to picture it really hard and remember it so you can think of it too, some day when you’re having a bad day and need something to cheer you up. Are you ready?”
The kids all nodded, eyes growing wide with interest.
Then he said to Kristen, “I saw a moose.”
“Oh, no.” Kristen started chuckling, hand going to her chest because she couldn’t believe he still thought of that. She did, occasionally. It always caught her off guard, making her giggle to herself. “Was it on foot?”
“Yes!” he said with mock outrage, which made her laugh harder.
“Why is that funny?” Sarah looked back and forth between them, eager to be in on the joke.
“Kristen’s brother, Carson, is my best friend. We all knew each other when we were kids. I guess Carson and I were about fourteen? Fifteen?” He looked to Kristen.
Her eyes were growing damp with amusement and something sweeter. “He already had his driver’s license,” she reminded him. “That’s why he was so mad. He kept saying he shouldn’t have been on his bike at all, but he wanted to save his gas.”
“Right. So Carson decided to ride his bike into town one day,” Finn told the children. “He took a shortcut down an old train track and came upon a mama moose. Now, growing up, we all were taught that you don’t disturb any wildlife, but especially moose and bears. And super-especially when they have babies. So Carson turned around and started back the way he’d come. But she chased him.”
“And chased him,” Kristen said with a chuckle. “We shouldn’t laugh about that part. He was worried she would catch him. She wouldn’t let up, no matter how fast he pedaled.”
“He was fine,” Finn assured them. “He made it home, but he was tired and sweaty and still shaken up. I was washing the car in our driveway and Kristen was helping their mom bring in groceries. Carson screeched his bike to a stop and threw it down on the lawn. He told us he’d just bee
n chased by a moose and Kristen said…”
He looked over at her.
She bit her lips, still laughing to this day because Carson had not thought it was funny, which had only made the moment more hilarious.
“What?” Sarah prompted.
“Kristen said…” Finn drew out the suspense. “‘Did she think you stole her bike?’”
The kids gave a little laugh.
“Picture it,” Finn urged them. “A moose. On a bicycle. Their bony front legs with big, clumsy hooves that keep slipping off the handlebars… Their goofy back legs trying to pedal.” Finn crooked his knee out and tried to windmill his foot. “Their antlers are heavy, so they’re weaving and wobbling all over the place.” He swayed on his stool, milking the joke.
The kids cracked up further and the adults were enjoying the performance, too.
Kristen laughed, but more because she was suffused with nostalgia for that long ago afternoon. She was stunned Finn remembered it so clearly. She wouldn’t have been able to say why she’d been outside at that moment. Or how such a silly remark had come into her head. She only remembered how intensely proud she’d been at making Finn laugh so hard he had fallen onto the lawn, clutching his stomach.
In those moments she’d felt less like the tagalong little sister and properly his friend in her own right.
The fact he hung on to that memory and kept it in his pocket for gloomy days made it all the more poignant.
Some guests came down from the upper floors, drawn by the laughter. Most trickled down to the basement for the dart tournament, but others settled around the table to enjoy the hors d’oeuvres Kristen and Wendy had set out.
“You didn’t mind my telling that, did you?” Finn asked her much later, when the dinner rush was over.
“Not at all.” Kristen had already cleared the dishes and was aggregating the Christmas baking and candied popcorn onto a couple of plates for guests to graze on. “In fact, I was thinking you and I should take a selfie, let the family know you’re here.”
“Good idea.” He pulled his phone from his back pocket. “I never think to do that.”