“Thank God. I’m not very good at rubbing two sticks together. Where on earth did you get that?”
“It’s just luck really. Ben smokes a cigar and is always stashing extra lighters in everyone’s pockets because he’s so absent-minded. During our Amazonian expedition he must have given a lighter to every one of our porters just so he’d always have a light. Hopefully it contains enough fuel to ignite our fire. And what do we have here?” Jon reached into his other pocket and pulled out a piece of crumpled newspaper. “Hmm, an ad for portable tents dated six weeks ago.”
He tore off tiny strips of paper, placing them strategically around the log and sticks. Tia added dry grass and crossed her fingers as Jon flicked the lighter against the curling edges of the paper. The flame flared orange before igniting the small pieces of dry kindling and grass. Jon leaned over and gently blew until the branches he’d piled atop the log began to smoke. With a sudden whooshing sound the brittle log burst into flame.
“That’s a relief,” he said, taking off his gloves. His fingertips were white.
“Are you frost-bitten?” asked Tia startled, reaching for his lean hands after removing her own gloves. Her fingers, though numb, were only reddened.
“I don’t know,” Jon said. “I lost feeling in them about thirty minutes ago. My gloves are a lot thinner than yours.”
Tia tucked his hands between hers and began to rub rapidly. He finally flexed his stiff fingers.
“That’s better; it’s tingling, so hopefully I won’t loose the tips of either them or my ears to frostbite.” He swallowed, clearly reluctant to suggest what they needed to do next. “Tia, we’ve got to remove our boots.”
She obeyed, fumbling with the wet leather strands. After managing to get the first boot off, she moaned as a few drops of icy water ran out. She quickly peeled off her socks and thrust her feet, which had no feeling whatsoever, toward the leaping flames.
Jon rapidly did the same, struggling to drag his soaked boots off his wool socks.
“I’ve got an idea. Scoot close to the fire and drape your legs over mine. Maybe if we rub both pairs of our feet, we’ll get the circulation back.”
They must have appeared odd as they sat hunched before the fire, their hands kneading each other’s feet as the fire popped, tiny globs of resin oozing from the dry wood. Jon stared intently at her toes.
“Are there any signs of frost bite?” asked Tia, suddenly afraid. The life had returned to the main part of her feet, but not to her benumbed toes.
Jon leaned forward and touched the tips lightly. “There’s a bit of white here, but they’re not blackened. I think we found shelter just in time.”
They sat companionably like that over the next ten minutes, feet stretched close to the fire, their hands rubbing and kneading their nearly frozen members. Slowly and painfully hands and feet were reborn as the cave gradually heated, thin wisps of smoke curling upward like a ribbon as it drifted toward the thin fissure in the cave roof.
Finally Tia sighed contentedly “Now that our feet are warmer you wouldn’t happen to have any pairs of warm dry socks in that magic bag of yours?”
“Well, you just might be surprised,” answered Jon smugly. He reached into the large olive backpack and pulled it open. “Ben always has me pack this bag just in case I get stranded somewhere. I’m going to have to buy that man a noxious Cuban cigar for his insistence. His foresight may just save our lives; that and your stinky blanket.”
Tia smiled. “Why don’t we spread the blanket out on the ground for right now so we have something other than dung and grass to lie upon?”
“Sounds like you’re setting us up a bed,” said Jon cheekily. “I know you’re eager to have me remove my pants but you’ll have to try and restrain yourself.”
Tia realized he was as relieved as she to have found some sort of shelter. She watched in fascination as Jon began to pull items from his heavy duty backpack. First he produced a small mess kit and several packages of freeze-dried food.
“As long as we can get obtain some water,” he said, “dinner’s no problem and boy do we have that covered.”
It was the first time he’d ever cracked any kind of joke and Tia smiled happily. With a great deal of fanfare he pulled out two pairs of oversized wool socks. Tia shrieked in joy and swooping down upon one, slid the warm gray socks over her feet and wiggled her toes before the fire.
“If that’s all it takes to please you,” said Jon, leaving the rest of the sentence incomplete.
“What’s that?” asked Tia, as Jon placed a long red-tipped cylinder away from the fire.
“It’s a flare. We’ll save it for later. It just might prove highly useful.”
“You remind me of Mary Poppins with your bottomless bag of goodies.”
“Just wait until I pull out my coat rack. Ah, here it is.” From the bottom of the knapsack he tugged out a tightly corded down sleeping bag. “It’s not a winter bag, mind you, but will certainly help keep us warm tonight. Why don’t you open the mess kit and I’ll fetch some water. I hate putting those boots back on, but can’t go outside barefoot, so hold on to the other pair of wool socks for me. I’ll slip my boots on without socks and be back in jiffy.”
Jon grabbed the swinging handle of the small container and eased out of the cave once again. Within minutes he returned, the container brimming with snow. He sat it right upon the fire, the pot immediately crackling while he removed his boots, setting them near the fire to dry. Jon draped both their pairs of soggy socks over a stick near the flames before donning the fresh wool ones.
“So what’s for dinner?”
Tia tore open a package of freeze-dried stew and sprinkled the mixture into the now thawed out water.
“It’s stew tonight, Sir.” She stirred the mixture with the mess kit’s one oversized spoon.
Jon frowned at his soaked ski pants, “I wish we had a change of clothes since our outerwear is soaking. I know this isn’t good manners, but I’m going to remove my trousers for dinner so they can dry out.”
“I’ve heard of dressing for dinner... but undressing? I knew your style was one of a kind!”
“Care to join me?”
Without a word Tia rose and removed Ben’s oversized ski pants, revealing gray long underwear. Her frisky intentions died as she suddenly shivered and moved closer to the fire. Jon grabbed the two sets of ski pants and placed them over the accumulation of sticks near the fire so they were close enough to dry out. The stew mixture bubbled and popped, sending out a delightful odor to the famished pair.
“Looks like we’ll need to eat out of one bowl,” said Jon, casting a sideways glance at her.
“No problem,” she said, meeting his dark green eyes as a thrill coursed through her. “We have one bowl, one spoon, and one knife; who could ask for more?”
“Indeed, who could ask for more?” he repeated, causing Tia to tear her needy eyes away.
So, as their ski pants dried, feet and bodies huddled close to the fire, they alternated bites, passing the metal spoon between them. When the cooking pot was finally empty, Jon set it aside.
“We’ll wash up later,” he said.
“And what’s for breakfast,” asked Tia, tongue-in-cheek.
Jon presented two packages. “It’ll be your choice,” he said. The first was a chili mix, the other, a chicken and rice combo.
A gust of wind outside forced a stiff breeze to circulate through the cave as the pines whipped and groaned at the strain.
Jon opened up the sleeping bag and spread it over the green wool blanket. The mummy bag was only big enough for one.
“That looks cozy,” murmured Tia, wanting to crawl in right now.
“Cozy is what we’re gonna need tonight in this weather,” stated Jon. “Why don’t you gather some of that dead grass and try to pad this up a little bit more. If we get really cold we can place the blanket over us instead of under. I’ll do our dishes.”
After piling a three-inch cushion of dry grass and needl
es underneath the sleeping bag, Tia added some of the dusty roots to the fire and crossing her legs Indian fashion, stretched out her hands.
“What was your sister like Jon?” she asked, not daring to glance at him. When he didn’t answer she risked a look. He stared into the fire, a half-smile playing upon his lips.
“She actually resembled me a great deal,” he finally announced. “More chestnut-haired with my dark green eyes and possessing a happy-go-lucky manner that instantly drew people to her. I wish I’d inherited that trait from my dad. Jenny stood about five-foot-six I guess and was a first class runner, competing in half-marathons all over the place. She loved to travel, sew, and enjoyed knitting. Can’t tell you how many blankets I received each and every holiday of my life. She actually flew down to Brazil last fall while Ben and I were compiling the Amazon book and stayed for almost three weeks. She always referred to Ben as ‘the old coot,’ and he adored her. He was as devastated as I when she died. We had our moments of course, but all in all got along really well. I miss her so much,” he said simply.
Tia reached out and grasped his warm hand.
“I know you do. You mustn’t ever forget all the wonderful things she was. Did they ever find her killer?”
“No,” said Jon, “though a witness indicated he saw a large white male drive away in a blue Honda sedan. It was dusk and the witness far away, so who knows what really happened. Anyway, it’s been almost four months now.”
“How did your parents take it?” asked Tia.
“Not well,” said Jon sadly. “My dad tries to pretend nothing’s different, but my mom often just sits in front of the TV, her eyes not focused on the screen. I guess no parent ever imagines their own child dying before they do. I stayed with them for a long time after the funeral down in Florida, but finally had to leave. We all handle grief in our own way and I needed to be out in nature to deal with mine. Dad handles his by denying it, and my mom, well, it’s gonna haunt her until she finds out what really happened to Jenny.”
“That’s how it was with my dad when my mom died,” remembered Tia. “He just vegetated in our cabin up near Lake Arrowhead and stared into the fire. My mom had decorated and helped design the place with my dad and Uncle Jeffery and it was his way of being near her I guess. It wasn’t three months before my dad couldn’t tolerate the place anymore. He sold the cabin and bought some land up here, explaining he wanted to build his own little log hideaway.”
“So that’s why he picked this place?”
“Yeah, my mother’s death hit hard. He contacted this man who erected log structures to help him out and they felled the trees and raised the cabin. It’s small but snug and I love it.”
“Does your uncle ever come up here?”
“Oh, maybe once a year for a few days, but I think the burden of running the company drains him so he doesn’t get up to see me much. Uncle Jeffery’s a very conscientious man.”
“And what about your brother; has he ever flown up?”
“My brother hates to travel,” said Tia. “He’d rather sit in front of his computer screen and fiddle with software and create new things. I once tried to arrange a week-long trip to Hawaii, but he said it was a waste of time.” She laughed bitterly. “He complained the flight lasted too long. It’s only five hours for goodness sake.”
“So you never really see him?”
“Sometimes at Christmas, but he’s so reclusive. You know it’s weird, but I always felt that my brother was like an only child who never adjusted to my Dad remarrying or having another child. Anyway, I ended up going to Hawaii with my cousin instead. “
“That would be Marilyn?”
“Yeah, she’s a lot of fun except for all the men following her around, swarming like bees to honey. She’s very beautiful.”
“I can’t imagine her being more beautiful than you,” said Jon sincerely.
Tia closed her mouth, stunned by his simple statement.
“I think you’re very beautiful too,” she announced finally.
Jon hesitated for only an instant before dragging her upon his lap and smothering her face with quick light kisses. He smoothed back her bedraggled blonde hair and gazed deeply into her silver-gray eyes, appearing as if he wanted to say something, but instead kissed her again. This time her mouth parted and his warm insistent tongue pushed inside as he skimmed her teeth, sucking and pulling at her lips. Tia gasped and moved closer, hands seeking the firmness of his chest under the unzipped parka. The softness of a blue flannel shirt met her questing hands and she reached into his waistband and pulled the offending shirt upward, skimming her hands over the contours of his torso. Jon’s stomach was hard and flat, his chest smooth except for a small patch of dark curly hair over his sternum. She tugged at the short strands as Jon shifted a hand to fondle her left breast under the concealing parka.
His kiss tasted too good and somehow her shirt flew over the pile of sticks. Tia lay upon the bed of dry grass over the soft sleeping bag as Jon slowly pulled down her long underwear and smiled at the serviceable white briefs exhibited underneath. He looped a long finger in the waistband and pulled the plain panties off.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, gazing at her pale hair and trembling thighs and moved slowly, enjoying her hands pushing against his chest as he leaned forward to capture her lips again.
Please,” she begged, and Jon complied until he could no longer control anything that happened between them as she burst fast and furiously under him. Coming to herself she once again felt his lips drifting over her brow as he gently kissed her. Tia wrapped her arms around his cradling warmth and drifted off until the intrusive cold finally awakened her.
The fire had nearly burned out and Jon sat up, stacking new branches upon the smoldering pile. He smiled down at her. “I think you’ll want to sleep in these,” he said tenderly, and helped loop her legs into the plain panties and long gray underwear.
He returned her bra and checked shirt, eyeing her possessively as she dressed. Her socks had miraculously stayed on and Tia grinned at him as he swiftly pulled on his own clothing and readjusted their makeshift bed, the cold penetrating the dark of the cave.
“It might be best if you lay on top of me for now,” he suggested, and she happily obeyed.
As Tia snuggled against his chest, Jon laboriously zipped up the one man sleeping bag and soon soothing warmth enveloped her as the rise and fall of his chest lulled her back into sleep. Before it totally claimed her, Tia lifted her head and kissed him gently upon his chapped lips, finally understanding what it felt like to be really and truly in love.
“Good night Jon Simons,” she murmured.
“Good night sweet lass,” he responded, and both were soon lost in sleep as the wind howled menacingly outside, unable to touch the content pair nestled so closely together.
Chapter 8
The morning light weakly illuminated the interior of the cave and Tia woke slowly, warmly spooned against Jon’s lean back. Sound asleep, his body remained completely relaxed against her. She snuggled her face against his firm back but the shrill chatter of a gray jay abruptly awoke her languid bedmate, and he straightened, untangling his long arms from the tight restrictions of the mummy bag to stretch. He sat for a long moment smiling down at her.
“You have the most wonderful smile in the world,” murmured Tia.
“I haven’t had much to smile about lately,” he returned honestly and reached out a finger to touch her cheek tenderly.
Tia raised her arms and pulled him back down to her for a long morning kiss. The rough call of the raucous jay interrupted again and Jon sighed, reluctant to leave the warmth of their bed.
“So what’s the plan, Stan?” rhymed Tia watching Jon’s face carefully.
“We eat, we pack, and we stake out the cabin. If the weather decides to cooperate and a thaw ensues, the guests in your house will have to make a move and quick.” He kissed her hard once more and rose.
Over their meager breakfast of dehydrated rice and
chicken Jon and Tia once again tried to make sense of the situation as Jon built up the fire.
“The accent of the blonde man who barged out of my cabin was definitely French-Canadian,” said Tia, waiting patiently for the metal spoon to be passed to her. There was something very intimate and appealing about sharing cutlery with Jon.
“We’ve identified our friend Steve, but have no clue about the mystery man or our man from Quebec. The hidden card of course is your ex-fiancé, Paul. Is he in cahoots with the two other men, or a captive of Steve, the Canadian, and Mr. X?”
“I’d like to think he has nothing to do with any of this, but I can’t be positive. Paul and I didn’t part company upon the best of terms, and I always had reservations about his motives. However, I believe Paul is shallow, not criminal, and have a hard time visualizing him as a thief or murderer. We also have to keep in mind that Paul risked shaky weather and unfamiliar territory to see me again.”
“He just may not have recognized the severity of storms in Alaska,” suggested Jon, taking a sip of hot water. They had no coffee.
“That’s true, Paul isn’t accustomed to inclement weather and could be best described as a sun worshipper. However, I’d bet my bottom dollar it was him trying to warn me yesterday.”
“And the boy Tory; what’s he like?”
“A typical teenager stuck in a town way too small for him. He’s full of the resident pimples and gangly limbs always accompanying the fast-maturing teenager. My friend Mary doesn’t care much for him after he was found breaking into one of her husband’s big rigs. I believe, however, that Tory just has severe growing pains and given time will mature into a fine young man. Whatever his problems, I know he’ll do his best to return to Timberline and fetch help. I do hope he’s alright.”
“Let me try the walkie-talkie again.” Jon pressed the talk button and while the light burned dimly, no signal was available. “I think the batteries are weak or maybe we’re just out of range.”
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