by Elsie Davis
“You don’t have to tell me three times. I’m gone.” The door swung shut behind him, and Rachel went to work.
The man was incorrigible. And handsome, something she didn’t fail to notice. He made her nervous when he turned his smile on her, something he didn’t do often enough. Chad could be pretty serious at times, as though lost in his own mental world—and not necessarily a place he liked.
Clean-up was simple, and in no time at all, she was finished. Not to mention exhausted from a long and trying day. She found Chad in the living room, staring into the fire, a pensive expression on his face. Lost in his own world again, he hadn’t noticed her come into the room.
Rachel turned and headed down the hall, choosing to leave him to a quiet evening.
By the looks of things, it was something they both needed.
Four
Daylight peeked through the cracks in the window curtains, alerting Rachel morning had arrived. A little too early, in her opinion, considering the trouble she had falling asleep. The bed was comfortable, but it was the ominous silence that gave way to more thinking than she wanted in the middle of the night.
Life. Marriage. Alex. Her future. You name it…all the subjects were touched upon as she shifted from side to side, praying to fall into a deep slumber.
Sliding on her slippers, Rachel grabbed the robe off the end of the bed and pulled it on to ward off the early morning chill. Log cabins were beautiful, but the logs absorbed the cool temperatures and dropped the heat inside slightly until the sun warmed them up again.
Rachel moved to the window, yawning along the way. The view that greeted her as she pulled the curtains aside only added to the sensation of cold. The snow was at least four feet deep where the wind whipped into drifts and easily came up to the bottom of her window. And the snowstorm didn’t appear to be letting up and was still dumping snow on the mountain.
At this rate, four to five feet seemed like someone erring on the positive side of guessing. All that added up to the realization she wouldn’t be leaving the cabin anytime soon. Somehow, she’d make the best of the situation and not worry about it. Besides, worry wouldn’t change a thing. Better to bask in the beauty of Mother Nature and use this opportunity to catch up on her Bible studies. To just be. Surely she and Chad could figure out a way to make this snowed-in experience memorable rather than a nightmare.
Rachel brushed her teeth and hair and then tiptoed down the hallway, being careful so as not to wake Chad. The man was sound asleep on the sofa bed, his feet hanging over the edge. Poor thing didn’t look at all comfortable.
A twinge of guilt sliced through her from having ousted him from his own bed in his own home. Perhaps she should offer to switch places. Chad was her best friend’s brother, and he seemed harmless enough. Yesterday, her imagination had been a bit overreactive. But then, given the day she’d had, it was perfectly normal the way she saw it.
Filling the coffee pot with water, she poured it into the back of the machine. Traditional coffee pots were the norm on the mission trip, not the instant k-cup models that almost every home in America now sported. She added a filter and measured the coffee grounds, counting them spoonful by spoonful and dumping them into the filter. Switching the pot to on, she then sat down at the table and watched the snow coming down, at times, in white-out conditions.
It wasn’t long before the aroma of freshly brewed coffee reached her. It kickstarted her body awake even before she’d had the first sip, her brain all too aware it meant caffeine was on its way. She waited for the final gurgling sound that signaled it was ready. Then, locating a cup, she poured the coffee, filling it to the top. Raising the cup to her lips tentatively, she took a sip. The last thing she wanted was to burn her mouth with the hot liquid. "Hmmm. Just what I needed.” She sighed.
“Just what I need, also,” Chad said from the doorway.
Rachel pushed the cup away from her body and held it over the sink to capture the coffee as it sloshed over the sides. Startled by Chad’s presence, she hadn’t been prepared. “Next time, try to scare me half to death when you enter a room. That’s half a cup of precious coffee wasted,” she teased. “Not to mention, a mess I need to clean up.”
Chad grinned, the lines at the corners of his eyes deepening. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist since you were talking to yourself. I figured that instead of an imaginary friend, you could talk to me.” The man had an answer for everything.
Rachel reached for a second mug on the cup holder and set it on the counter. She filled the cup and handed it to Chad.
“Thanks. Waking up to the smell of freshly brewed coffee is always an excellent way to start the day. Do you need help—cleaning up, that is?” he asked.
“No, I’m good. It’s not much, really, and I was just teasing you because I could.”
“I see. I’ll have to remember that.”
Rachel shot him a grin, topped off her coffee and took a sip, and proceeded to search for the paper towels. “I agree about the morning coffee. This is when I like to just sit and relax, gazing out the window and admiring nature’s beauty.”
Chad turned to glance outside. “Not much to see out there today. And there’s no telling when it will move out of here.”
“I thought this was supposed to be over and done by now,” Rachel said, not entirely saddened by the news now that she had the proper perspective in place.
“It was. But the weather report changed last night right before I went to bed. The storm stalled out because of another high-pressure system. We’re now staring at possibly another four feet of snow.”
“Another four feet? You’ve got to be kidding.” Rachel knew what the numbers meant, or more importantly, what the total accumulation meant. Eight feet of snow in the space of thirty-six hours. Yikes. Unfortunately, it also meant that at some point, she would have to work on digging her car out before it could even be towed to the garage in town.
“Wish I was kidding, but we’re stuck here together for a while,” he said, his tone a good indicator he hadn’t come to the same conclusion she had last night.
Which reminded her of the resolve to make things right between them. “I’m sure we can come to some arrangement suitable to both of us to make it tolerable. And I’m sorry about taking your room last night. I reckon I should let you have it back, seeing as I am the guest,” she said, shooting him an apologetic grin.
Chad shook his head. “No. Don’t worry about it. I’ll make do.”
His chivalry and warm generosity were duly noted, and she wasn’t to argue. “Thank you. But if you change your mind, let me know. It’s only fair.”
“I’m good. Didn’t you say something about breakfast this morning?” Chad asked, his stomach rumbling loud enough for Rachel to hear.
She chuckled. “I did. But I also remember telling you it would be a team effort.” Rachel wasn’t much of a cook, but bacon and eggs…no worries.
He shrugged. “It’s an at your own risk thing, but sure.” Chad moved to the refrigerator and took out the carton of eggs and the package of bacon. “The bread is in the cupboard,” he said, pointing to the door at the far end of the counter.
“Got it.” She held up the loaf. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Honestly, anything is fine. Over the years, I’ve learned to eat what’s serve or go hungry.” Chad grabbed a frying pan and set it on the stove, turning on the burner.
Cutting open the package of bacon, she peeled the strips back, one by one, placing them in the pan. “I’m partial to poached since they are healthier.”
“On second thought…” he teased, shooting her a wink. “Poached is fine. On toast, of course.”
“Of course.” As if there was any other way. On second thought, there was avocado and poached egg on toast, but that was a treat she left to the fancy breakfast places that now served the popular breakfast dish. “Why don’t you tend the bacon, and I’ll get started on the eggs and toast?” She handed him the spatula.
“Sure thing. Even
I can do that.” He stood over the frying pan, studying the bacon.
“You might want to turn up the heat. The bacon is not even sizzling yet. It’s only going to take me a few minutes to heat up the water and then a few more to cook the eggs and toast. We need to time this right.”
“Yes, Chef Rachel.” Chad’s smile was warm and gentle, as though working in the kitchen with her was a completely natural and normal thing to do. He turned the gas higher on the burner and flipped the bacon.
It was too soon, but she wasn’t going to burst his cooking-bubble euphoria. Rachel lit the burner, turning the gas up to high to heat the pot of water. She reached for the plates and set the table, returning to the stove just as the water began to boil.
After pushing down the slot control for the toaster, she started cracking the eggs to drop them in the pot of water. A fancy poached egg maker wouldn’t be a staple item in a mountain cabin, and the good old-fashioned way would have to do. One busted, the yolk making the water cloudy. “Well, that one’s a lost cause.” She frowned.
“Maybe you should go back to Egg 101 class?” Chad teased.
“Maybe so, but you need Bacon 101. The grease is popping everywhere on the stove, and they all need to be flipped before they burn.” She gestured toward the bacon, now darkened on one half and close to overdone. On one side.
“Bacon sizzles. I’ll clean it up after. Maybe that’s why you assigned me to this part.” Chad flipped a few more pieces. The grease popped and splattered as the two pieces landed.
“Ouch,” Rachel said, jumped back as she rubbed the spots where the grease had landed, trying to ease the sting.
“Sorry. Almost finished.” He stepped away, retrieving a dish towel, and coming to stand next to her. “Give me your arm.”
She did as she was told, knowing it would be useless to argue. “I’m okay. It only stings.”
Chad dabbed at the area with a water moistened end of the cloth, cooling her skin. “If you’re sure. It doesn’t look like it burned the skin.”
“I’m sure.” Rachel used a ladle to move the poached eggs around. The toast was taking a while and should almost be done. She peered into the slots just to double-check. “Almost done,” she announced. The grease popped and spattered out of the frying pan again. “Ummm…you’re getting close to finished. Maybe you should turn down the heat.”
Chad frowned. “Maybe? You’re the one who said turn it up.”
“Well, now I’m telling you to turn it down to finish cooking them. If you don’t, we're going to have burnt bacon for breakfast, and I, for one, don’t care for it blackened to a crisp.”
“Yes, Chef,” he teased.
Rachel glanced at the toaster, sure it should have popped by now. The eggs looked ready, but a bit longer would ensure they weren’t too runny. She hated the clear whites of a partially cooked egg.
“I’ll get us some juice and coffee refills if you can handle finishing up here?” he offered.
“Sure thing. It might be a safer choice if we want to eat this morning,” Rachel said, laughing at Chad. Coming to the cabin, she would have never expected to be sharing breakfast with a man. A stranger, no less. Okay, so not a stranger. Her best friend’s older brother and a nice guy.
She thought back to high school graduation when he’d shown up for Leslie. Tall and handsome, Rachel couldn’t help the sudden crush she felt toward him. His years in the military might have toughened him up, but it had done nothing to extinguish his good looks or charm.
“Earth to Rachel, the bacon’s burning!” Chad called out, breaking her out of the past and into the present.
Smoke poured from the pan as it sizzled and popped. Nasty blackened bacon was the result of a trip down memory lane. She shoved the pan off the burner. “I’m sorry. It’s not edible at this point.” She shook her head.
“Don’t worry. The eggs and toast are fine.” Chad was being kind, not rubbing in her failure—or laughing at her for that matter. Rachel grabbed a potholder and took the offending bacon to the garbage can, searching out for one of the cans to dump the grease into safely.
The smoke alarms sounded, the eerie screech racing down her spine. She spun around just in time to see smoke pouring from the toaster. Rachel yanked out the cord to turn it off, the darn thing never popping. The result—burnt toast. Just great.
Chad frantically waved a towel in front of the smoke alarm, trying to silence it.
Rachel pulled the back door open, trying to dissipate some of the smoke. She used a fork and removed the blackened bread, tossing it out the back door with a hard fling, hoping at least the birds or some other critter would enjoy on a cold winter’s day.
“Don’t worry. The eggs are fine,” Chad teased, the alarm still not shutting off.
“It’s not funny.” Rachel wanted to cry, not laugh.
“Sure it is,” Chad said, his face to an expression of horror. He raced to the stove, the foamy white suds boiling over the sides. Which meant the eggs had busted open and were overcooked. “Only now, I’m guessing we don’t have eggs either.”
Talk about humiliation. Why me, Lord? Just when she thought she had everything figured out, life threw her another curve. Maybe it was just a down cycle in her life. First Alex, and now this. “I’m sorry. What a waste of food. I’m not used to cooking on a gas stove. It’s way harder to control the temperature, and I made the mistake of thinking it would be easy.”
“Nothing ever is. So we are both bad cooks, that makes us even. You can blame it on the stove, and I’ll blame it on a lack of experience. We’re even.” Chad winked. He moved to the sink with the pan and poured the water down the drain, dumping the eggs into the trash can.
“What do we do now? Go without breakfast by way of punishment. I’m not sure we need to attempt this again,” she said with a shake of her head.
Chad chuckled. “Don’t be so melodramatic. There’s always cereal. Cold cereal with milk. And there’s a bag of blueberry muffins.” Another example of a man with all the answers.
Rachel nodded. “Sounds good, right about now. You clean, I’ll fix breakfast…again.”
“Try not to burn our Cheerios,” he teased.
“It’s not my fault I don’t know how to use a gas stove or that your toaster was defective.” Defense mode was the best offense when admitting you were a failure—a woman who couldn’t cook.
By the time Chad finished cleaning, she had everything ready at the table. She’d set his place setting at the end of the table and hers next to him. The table was made for eight people and sitting at opposite ends seemed too formal. Especially given all they had been through this morning to get to this point. Call it a shared camaraderie, but it was something she enjoyed, even with the catastrophic results.
Rachel took his hand, his silent look of surprise quickly masked as she asked for the food blessing. And, of course, she managed to tack on a little extra request for an end to the snowstorm. Of course, God was in control, but it sure couldn’t hurt to put in a good word.
Chad slathered butter on his blueberry muffin and took a bite. “This is good. Thank you.”
“Spoken by a hungry man who already acknowledged he’d eat anything.” It was her turn to tease him. The truth was the easy banter did make her feel better. So did the food in her belly.
He nodded. “True. You know, we didn’t get a chance to talk much last night, but there’s something I don’t understand. If it’s too personal, just tell me to butt out.”
“Fire away,” she said, unsure of where this would lead.
“Yesterday was supposed to be your wedding day. Instead, you show up here in your dress. What happened?” Nothing subtle about the question.
Rachel shrugged. “Bottom line…my fiancé practically left me standing at the altar. Nice guy, huh? I guess I should consider myself lucky that Alex didn’t wait until we were in front of the pastor and all our guests.”
“You said as much yesterday. But I mean…why? And why no tears from you? I would have
thought to see you with red-rimmed puffy eyes, a gallon of Rocky Road ice cream, and a box of tissues at your side.”
“Alex and I weren’t suited. The truth is…he preferred the wedding planner. And I, well, I prefer my mission trips and traveling. Yet, even as I rode away from the church, I had an odd sense of relief. It was as though God gave me the peace in my heart to know it was for the best.”
“Interesting perspective, and not one I necessarily agree with. The same logic could be used in reverse. Why wouldn’t God let you know not to say yes in the first place if he never intended for you to marry Alex?” Chad challenged.
It was the same thing Rachel had asked herself at least twenty times since yesterday. “Maybe he did. Sometimes people aren’t listening as well as they should. I listened to my parents, his parents, and everyone else who thought our next step was marriage. So we got engaged. I was taken off guard when he asked me in a very public setting. I didn’t have time to pray about it or anything—it was just the next logical step, and I said yes.”
Rachel couldn’t believe she was baring her soul to Chad, but in a way, it was helping her to understand herself. To put into words what happened. She had gotten carried away at the moment, and afterward, too afraid to fix it, not wanting to hurt Alex. The mission trip she’d just accepted at the time had been a Godsend, and from her perspective, exactly what she needed.
Turned out she was right.
“So how is it that driving away and feeling a sense of peace equates with a message from God that all is well?” Chad asked, pushing his plate back, his gaze intent on her as he tried to understand.
“Peace comes from God, so if I feel the peace—it is God’s message to me.”
Chad shook his head. “But if you’re good with the way things turned out and you’ve found peace with your fiancé's defection, then why did you come here?”
It was a fair question and an easy one to answer. “Your sister thought it best to get away from well-meaning sympathetic people with prying eyes, constantly trying to console me. And my parents, of course. It would give me time to regroup, figure out my next step. Leslie understands my family all too well. I figure here that I could apply for more mission trips without my mother’s constant interference. It’s like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders, and I have the freedom to pick where I want to go and what I want to do.”