Love After Snowfall

by Suzanne D. Williams

  “And you’ve seen no one in that time?”

  “I am self-sufficient, Mr. Knapp.”

  An excuse. Being self-sufficient physically had handicapped her emotionally. The thought of people and crowds, cities, terrified her. She’d become that way living here with Nathan. He’d handled any transactions that required travel, often leaving her behind for days. He and Timmy had been her only companions.

  “You are not self-sufficient. People need people, something you’ve proven to me in the last day.”

  “I need no one. I will take you to your cabin and return here.” An odd ache formed in her gut at her own words, but she quelled it. She’d gotten too soft, Ezekiel Knapp’s affections working on her in an unseemly manner. It would pay to remain unattached. She’d see he had medical care and go on with her existence.

  “You will not return here,” he said. “I know we’ve had only the last day together, but I like you, Clem. I refuse to walk away.”

  “You will not be walking away,” she returned, motioning at his leg.

  He made a face. “Carried away. Flying away. The transport is not the issue. I don’t wish to become a man with one leg, but I don’t wish to become a man without Clementine Button either.”

  “Psh.” She made a sound and spun away from him again.

  “Spoken like a woman who only needs a little convincing,” he said.

  “If your convincing involves any use of your mouth, then forget it.”

  He laughed and one hand on her shoulder, flipped her flat. “Now, which use of my mouth are we speaking of?” A spark lit in his eyes and danced there.

  “The same one Nathan used to shut me up,” she returned.

  He leaned closer, bringing his lips to hers. “Nathan was a smart man. I’m beginning to see why he kept you here all to himself.”

  “If you kiss me …” she began. She meant it as a warning, but the twitch of the corner of his mouth said he took it differently.

  “What if I make you a promise?” he asked. “I’m a man of my word.”

  She said nothing. Faithfulness had to be proven, and though some part of her liked him, he’d yet to demonstrate that to her.

  “Come with me, Clem. I won’t leave you. I promise.”

  “You aren’t in a position to leave me,” she said. “And how can you promise me something you have no power over? There is nothing between us. If I come with you, then I’m what? Your companion? I hardly think we should share a bed together out there.”

  He took hold of her hand and folded it in his. “What if I give you everything that’s Ezekiel Knapp?”

  She drew her brow into a v. What did he mean by that?

  “What if we go to the city together and get married?”

  She drew back. “Married? I hardly know you.” She wriggled upright, but he once again pulled her back.

  “Hear me out,” he said. “You don’t want to be alone, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather share my life with.”

  “It’s ridiculous.” She struggled against him. “Unhand me, Mr. Knapp.”

  His palm to her chest prevented her from rising. “It’s Ezekiel. Stop calling me mister. And stop fighting against something we both want.”

  She stilled.

  “Is that how Nathan did it?” he asked. “He came into your life and whisked you away? I’ve said I’m not him. So you should see I have no intention of leaving you behind, on this planet or the next.”

  Her hand struck his cheek with a thwack. He stared at her unmoved. “Go ahead. Be angry at me. Then get over it and consent to be my wife.”

  She chewed on her lip, her gaze on the handprint newly formed on his skin. Where Nathan had been driven, Ezekiel was tenacious. She’d always been able to convince Nathan to let her have her way. He’d dispute with her at first, thick brows drawn tight, but relent in the end.

  “We’ll go to your cabin and call for help,” she said, measuring her words. “But you have not convinced me to the rest.”

  He lowered his face to hers. “Give me time, Clem, because convincing is something I do really well.” With that, he captured her lips, and she sailed away on the strength of it.

  Who was this man? And why was she so powerless in front of him?

  CHAPTER 3

  The sky was clear and bright, and the air tremendously cold. It promised to be a good day for travel, but an uncomfortable one that night. Clementine turned her footsteps toward the suspended moose meat. There were many things that needed doing before they left. They must eat, then pack clothing and emergency supplies, also, cooking utensils. It paid to be prepared.

  She’d been foolish to stay here and risk infection in his leg. The streaking around the wound was a sure sign things had turned worse. It was perhaps equally foolish, to consent to take him west, though according to him, it was closer. Traveling to town would be safer and more familiar. She should put her foot down and refuse.

  She snorted. Like he’d listen. All morning he’d rattled her thoughts with his kisses, and it had worked. Lying there, pressed up against him, she’d entertained his proposal for a minute or more. He’d read her right. She didn’t want to be left behind, but neither did she want to leave and live in the city. Having someone in the cabin with her again had taken her back to life with Nathan, the feeling she’d had of her and him against the world.

  Her footsteps lifted the new powder snow into a fine spray.

  Admit it, Clementine, that’s not all you remember. No, it wasn’t. Vivid dreams of Nathan’s lovemaking had returned, only they were mixed in with Ezekiel’s face. She shouldn’t think such. This was a man she’d rescued only two days ago. She couldn’t possibly have grown attached to him in two days.

  She’d take him to his cabin, call for help, and return home. Any upset she felt by his removal from her life she’d simply have to get over. She couldn’t have everything she wanted. She’d learned that with Nathan. She’d given up things for him, too.

  Her family, for one. Leaving North Carolina to move to Alaska had been huge, and now, she’d not spoken to any of them in over five years. Five long years. She missed her sister and her mom and dad. She missed the green mountainsides, sweeping farm valleys, and rocky streams. There was so much life there, a beauty much different from Alaska.

  She’d given up communication, for another. Five years in this cabin, on this property, barely speaking to another person besides Nathan had changed her from the outgoing twenty-year-old Nathan had fallen in love with to the solitary woman she was now.

  She needed no one to survive. Every day, she told herself that.

  Approaching the meat, she slowed and raised her gaze. But in lifting it, her eyes fell on a pattern in the snow. Her heartbeat sped in her chest.

  “What’s this?” Crouching on her heels, she laid the span of her hand in the impression of a man’s boots, a bigger man than Ezekiel Knapp. She scanned the path of the prints away from the cabin and into the distant trees. They were hours old. Whoever this was had come during the night.

  The meat. Standing back to her feet, she shuffled forward and uttered an oath. He’d stolen an entire leg quarter! One oath was followed by two, her anger flaring. She’d worked hard for this moose, and this man had cut into her winter supplies without any thought.

  She removed her knife and flicked open the blade, stabbing the meat. She cut a portion and settled it in her sack.

  Stolen what wasn’t his and not knocked at the door. This thought bothered her. Why wouldn’t he knock? There was no one else this distance out, and she’d have provided warmth and shelter without giving it any thought.

  He was a traveler then, another trapper, or someone on a mission. He must have not had time to pause.

  She dismissed it. She shouldn’t begrudge him food. Once Ezekiel was gone, she’d have enough to survive. Providing whoever had come last night didn’t return again.

  She slung her sack over her arm and clutched her rifle. She’d come prepared this time against the bear, though
most likely it was gone. Perhaps she should remain prepared against the intruder as well.

  Trudging back toward the cabin, her thoughts moved inside. She’d be glad to be done with Mr. Knapp. He was becoming a real problem in her mind, one easily enough removed once she made this trip. Two days, maybe a third, tops, and she’d go back to being Clementine Button, the wife of deceased, Nathan Button, who’d loved her.

  But not enough to live for.

  ***

  “Are you comfortable?”

  Ezekiel looked up at Clementine from his position in the sled. Maybe he was crazy to have mentioned marriage, but it seemed like the perfect solution. She was as afraid of abandonment as she was of leaving the small world she lived in, and he could help her with both. “If you include lying upside this hunk of moose meat, then I’m fine.”

  She made her characteristic cross between a scowl and a pout. “We will need the meat.”

  “And the frying pan and the bear grease and …” The other thirty supplies.

  “Mr. Knapp …” She cut him off, then seemed to make an effort to relax, lowering her voice. “Ezekiel, there are always unforeseen circumstances out here, and though the snowmobile has served me well, it is an old machine.”

  This brought a question to mind. “Where have you gotten gasoline all this time?” he asked.

  She nodded her head toward barrels at the side of the cabin. “Nathan had enough to last us two years. I’ve used half of it.”

  He eyed her. “What would you have done when you ran out?”

  She ignored his question, calling the dog. “Up, Timmy.”

  Timmy climbed in beside him, wrapping herself around his feet. Either Clementine had no plan, which was probably the case, or the one she had was weak. He laid back, his view for the next few hours destined to be the sky and the trees.

  Clementine’s boots crunched over the snow to the side of the snowmobile, and the sound of the motor drowned out any further possibility of talk. He settled back as best he could for the long ride.

  It was smooth for quite a ways, and warm enough. She’d bundled him even more than before, and the dog provided steady heat. He drifted off for a bit and awoke to the skid of the runners, the swish of the snow, and an ache in his backside. The sled could use more padding.

  She slowed to a crawl then came to a halt. Her face looking down at him brought a smile to his lips. “A lovely sight.”

  She frowned. “I did not stop for compliments.”

  He laughed. For all her crustiness, Clementine had a soft side that was intensely appealing, and sleeping beside her for two nights now, though he wasn’t conscious much during the first one, had given him thoughts he’d dismissed from his life. Kissing her was pleasurable, and, if not for his injury, not where he had wanted to stop each time. He was a man who’d lived alone for several years after all.

  Nevertheless, the words of his mother kept pounding in his head. A woman’s a man’s best thing, and he should respect that, put a ring on her finger.

  That was as much behind his proposal as anything else. In his heart, in the deepest place, he knew he’d never find another woman like her. Frivolous, fragile females did not appeal to him at all. He had no use for parties, fancy clothing, or expensive living, and here was a woman who was anti all those things. She could shoot a moose and slaughter it, chop her own firewood, do any of the numerous chores it took to live in the wilds of Alaska without giving them much thought. Physically, she needed no one. However, there the comparison ended. Mentally, she did, and she wasn’t about to admit that.

  “I do not like wondering what goes through your brain,” she said.

  His smile widened. “I would tell you, but you’d dump me out of the sled.” He twisted his head to see around the area, but the wooden sides she’d fashioned were too high. “Why are we stopped?”

  “Direction. You need to tell me which way to your cabin.” She circled behind him and with her hands beneath his shoulders, shoved him upright.

  He gave a groan. Stupid leg.

  He turned his eyes to the area around them and nodded his head to the side. “That way, directly west. You’ll cross the river at some point.” He brought his gaze to her face, now inverted over his. “We should check my traps while we’re here.”

  “Check your traps?”

  “Right. Why not? We’re near the run of them, and it’ll save me losing whatever’s been caught.”

  “I did not bring you this far to check traps.”

  He chuckled. “Come, now, Clem. You’re a practical woman, whatever’s in the traps is money, and money’s scarce out here.”

  She pushed him back down in the sled and tucked the covering around him. “It will delay us, and it’s important you get to help.”

  He stared up at her. Something in the way she’d said that was wrong. She thought too much, and it would be her downfall if she didn’t stop. He raised a hand and snatched hold of her wrist.

  She scowled at him.

  “Don’t do that,” he said. “Whatever’s going through that pretty head of yours, tell yourself you’re wrong.”

  “There is nothing going through my head right now but continuing on our way,” she replied, detaching herself.

  He fell back in the sled, and the vision of her disappeared. The snowmobile cranked again.

  Continuing on their way so she could run from him. The truth rose up inside. But she was wrong; there was no way he was leaving without her. One way or another, his future was tied to hers. She simply had no idea how stubborn he would be about it.

  ***

  Their troubles began mid-afternoon. Checking the traps had definitely delayed them, but she’d done it anyhow because he was right, there was money to be made, and if he would be gone from the area, then whatever was in them would go to waste. Checking them, however, meant altering their course due west and following the river for quite some time. Therefore, when it finally came time to cross, they weren’t at a location she would have chosen.

  She’d crossed the river before. During the winter, it was mostly frozen, but below the snow there’d sometimes be pockets of water that had escaped the ice. You never knew where they were, and so at any time ran the risk of getting stuck.

  Getting stuck was not in her plans. The more the day wore on, the more she wanted to rid herself of Ezekiel and all the feelings he created in her. With him gone, she’d be free of the desires and longings he’d uncovered and could relegate such weakness back to where it belonged—in the past. He had taught her one thing though. She’d have to plan better for her future, make the trip to town for supplies, and acquire more of what she’d need for safety measures.

  Clementine halted the sled on the bank of the river and scanned the far bank. There really wasn’t any way to know how strong the ice was here except to risk it. Gripping the handlebars she revved the gas and started the trek across. But nearing the other side, the snowmobile’s treads sank up to the frame.

  She shot out an oath. It was as she’d thought.

  “What is it?” Ezekiel asked.

  She glanced back at him. “Overflow.”

  The slushy mix of snow and water flowing over the ice had effectively wedged the machine in tight. She dismounted, her feet sinking into the mix, and eyed the predicament.

  “I’ll have to unhook the sled to get us out.”

  Unhooking the sled first required removing Ezekiel from it. This proved difficult because over the hours, he’d gotten stiff. And heavy. Her arm around his shoulders, she hefted him upright best she could. He uttered a series of grunts and moans, then their corporate efforts failing, fell down flat on the snowy bank. His face was uncommonly pale.

  She patted his cheek. “Should be only a moment.”

  But after shifting the sled and dragging it onto solid ground, the snowmobile remained as stuck as ever. She seated herself at his side, raising his head in her lap.

  “What is it?” he asked with chattering teeth.

  “We won’t be
getting there today.”

  “No?”

  He was amazingly calm, considering.

  “No,” she said. “The ice will have to freeze for me to get it out, so we’ll make camp here, build a fire. Let’s get you more comfortable.”

  She rose from the ground, pillowing his head on some of the covering from the back of the sled, and trudged away from the bank. Selecting a location beneath the trees, she scraped the snow down to the hardened turf and formed a bed of scattered spruce branches. She lined this with the emergency bedding she’d insisted they bring and returned to Ezekiel. He was shivering now, his body visibly shaking.

  “Come,” she said. “Give me your arms, and I’ll drag you.” Not the easiest task, but he’d be unable to walk that far.

  It was a good twenty minutes before he was situated in place. She wrapped him tight, up to his neck in the blankets, and moved to make a fire.

  It paid to always be prepared. He’d made fun of her supplies, but she’d learned it was better to carry what you didn’t need than to find yourself without it. This only proved her point. They could both die out here in the upcoming cold if not for her forethought.

  Nathan had preached that at her. You never have enough, he’d always say.

  The fire spit higher, its red-orange flames consuming the branches she’d formed into a cone. She collected a portion of the meat and set it in the frying pan over the heat.

  Yet once the food was cooked, Ezekiel wasn’t inclined to eat it. “I’m sorry, Clem. I’m not feeling so hot. I don’t suppose I can trouble you for companionship?”

  She nodded and, feeding his portion to the dog, crawled beneath the covers to his side. She curled them both tight in the blankets.

  “You make things worthwhile,” he said.

  She had her doubts about that.

  “Tell me a story, anything to take my mind off this.”

  Her cheek pillowed on his arm, she exhaled. “I’m not good at storytelling.”

  He gave a pained laugh. “No, I expect not, but do your best.”

  “What would you like to hear? I have only my own memories to share.”