by Elsie Davis
“Hardly a bunny trail. Trust me. Although bunnies seem to be your specialty,” Chad teased. “Consider this more of a Black Diamond trail.”
Rachel stopped in her tracks. “Ummm, should I be worried?” A bunny trail might not be so bad after all.
“Nope. I’ve done it plenty of times. Leslie wasn’t big into sledding, but I was. I always made it back to my uncle’s cabin.” A distant gaze fell over his expression. One second he was laughing and having fun, and the next, his mood turned a one-eighty.
Rachel felt sure it had to do with the make-it-home comment, but it was better not to draw attention to the remark. This was a fun outing, and she didn’t want anything to intrude upon the day negatively. Especially not before they careened down the mountain. “So I see,” she said, aiming for a light-hearted teasing note. “I can’t wait to see your idea of a challenging hill.”
“Take a look,” he said. “We’re here.”
Rachel huffed several large vapor clouds as she tried to catch her breath from the exertion of the hill. “This is incredible, and Ummm, very steep. Maybe I should watch.” This wasn’t anything like what she expected. At the ski resorts, tube trails were wide open and well-groomed. Unfortunately, neither term applied to the path they would need to take down the side of the mountain.
“Chicken?” he teased, putting the toboggan down at the precipice of the hill and holding it down with his foot.
This was way more than anything she’d ever done. “No, a bunny.” It was a feeble attempt to diffuse her nerves.
“And here I thought you were going for an abominable snowman.”
The guy never let up with the jokes, something Leslie had warned her about. Rachel picked up a handful of snow, sculpted it into a snowball, and tossed it at Chad, catching him by surprise.
“Hey, no fair.” He reciprocated and fired one off toward her, the snowball landing against her chest.
The time for rest was over. Rachel moved further away and tossed a few more snowballs in his direction. One of them landing squarely in his chest. Chad dropped the toboggan rope and chased after her. And by chase, she meant an awkward gorilla run. One that was over before she knew it as he tackled her to the ground.
Picking up a handful of snow, he held it above her face. “Truce,” he asked.
Rachel was caught up in the moment, breathless from the exertion, and Chad’s gorgeous face and chocolatey eyes close. A brief flash of time in which neither moved, assessing, and reassessing the situation.
A hawk called out, breaking the silence and the moment.
“Truce,” she said, exhaling. There was plenty more she might have said, except the words wouldn’t come.
Chad stood, lending her a hand up. “You ready to do this?”
“As long as you know how to steer this thing, I am. I’m trusting you with my life.”
“I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” Chad reset the toboggan in place and held out his hand.
Rachel allowed him to help her sit on the sled while she removed her snowshoes and handed them to his backpack. He’d already ditched his and was ready to go. She faced the front and waited for him to get into position behind her. From this viewpoint, the hill looked even steeper, and her fear ramped up another notch. Or two. Maybe she was in over her head.
She’d meant it when she said she trusted Chad. But right now, that trust wasn’t giving her the confidence she needed to pick up her feet and put them on the sled. Rachel looked to the heavens above. Please, God, keep us safe and give me the courage to face this challenge with bravery and trust, both in You and Chad.
A cardinal landed on a tree nearby, his beautiful red coloring a stark contrast to the green and white all around. Joy and peace-filled Rachel, and she understood the message. Everything would be okay. “Let’s do this,” she said, pulling her legs in to cross them in front. She clung to the ropes on the side of the toboggan.
“Here we go. It’ll be fun, so remember to open your eyes.” Chad chuckled.
Seconds later, they were careening down the mountainside. The cold air made Rachel's eyes water, and she squeezed them tight, hoping to clear her vision. There was no way she was letting go of the side ropes. To the right. A quick left. Another left. Dodging the trees, Chad was as experienced as he claimed, the man was quite able to steer the sled easily. Soon, she was enjoying the ride, even relaxing just enough to use the back of her glove to brush the tears off her cheeks.
“This is great,” she hollered.
“Told you.”
They reached the bottom, and Chad dug in his heels, and they came to a stop.
“Can we do it again?” she asked, the thrill of the ride keeping her on an emotional high.
Chad nodded. “Sure thing, but only if you can walk back up.” He pointed up the hill.
Rachel zeroed in on the trail they’d cut coming down and on just how steep the hill was when looking at it from the bottom. “Ummm, maybe not. I like the idea of another run, but I’m not sure I can get up the hill on snowshoes or in boots.”
“Good call. I wasn’t planning on it anyway.” He winked.
“Thanks a lot. Making me feel like a weakling.”
“Just testing your determination. Shall we?” Chad asked, holding out his hand to help her up.
“Absolutely,” she agreed, taking his hand.
Chad positioned the sled, opened his pack, and showed her how to sit, making a table between them. It was like an intimate dinner for two, with only the snow and the birds and Mother Nature to see the moment. And God.
The thought was confusing. Rachel thought God’s clear plan for her life was the mission field as a helper. So why was he testing her with the likes of Chad McCarthy? Someone who also had the helper gift, but someone who had completely different ideas on using those God-given gifts to their best use.
Lunch turned out to be a ham and cheese sandwich and warm tomato soup in a thermos, and incredibly delicious, hitting her hunger spot precisely right.
“So tell me about your last mission trip? I mean, what does that look like for you?” Chad asked, handing her a cup of warm cocoa.
“I was in South America for a year. I loved working with kids who were looking to learn about God while at the same time teaching them in school. There are a lot of remote villages that don’t have access to any formal education. So the children are eager to learn and soak up the love of God.” She took a sip of the creamy hot chocolate. Mixing tomato and chocolate would have never crossed her mind as edible together. So perhaps it was a case of the company she kept that made it all seem so delicious.
“Sounds awesome. It takes someone with a big heart to give up their life and travel for such a long period.”
Rachel shrugged. “For me, it’s more about a love for God. And in that, the love trickles down to the children and those eager to learn. I meet some incredible kids. That’s why I’m so excited, knowing that I’ll be back out in the field soon.” The joy on the child’s face was priceless, and it was that emotion Rachel tapped into.
“I see. Have you heard anything yet?” Chad asked, pouring himself another cup of cocoa.
“No, but I will. I’m not sure where my journey will take me, but I know patience is a virtue. How’s the community center coming along?”
“Slow. Two steps forward, one step backward. I’ll get there but cutting through the red tape has its headaches.” Chad polished off his sandwich with one big bite.
“I’m sorry. Just stick with it, and then one day, you’ll look back and be able to remember the planning stages fondly.”
“I hope you’re right.” Chad repacked the trash as she finished the last of her lunch and slid on the backpack, clearly ready to leave.
She stood. “It’s a good thing you know your way around. I’d be lost out here.”
“Spent too many summers out here not to know my way around.” They strapped on their snowshoes.
“Lead the way,” she said, ready to leave.
“Okay,
then.” He picked up the rope, pulling the toboggan behind him as they headed through the trees.
Rachel followed, staying back far enough not to trip over the sled. They hadn’t gone far when he came to a bend, the trees narrowing. He reached up to grab a branch, sending a load of snow cascading down on his head.
“Of course,” he said, brushing the snow out of his face.
Rachel lost no time pulling out her phone and snapping a picture, his expression priceless. “Fate,” she teased.
“Fate? I don’t think so. If you had walked ahead of me, it would have been you.”
Rachel laughed as he dusted off the top of his head. “But I didn’t. I think it’s payback because you laughed at me when I fell. So now it’s my turn to laugh.”
“Gee, thanks.” He shook his head, not finding the humor she did. Or at least none he was willing to let her know.
“No problem. Smile for the camera.” Rachel snapped off several more photos instantly with a burst shot.
“No pictures,” he said, holding up his hand to block his face.
“Too late.” She chuckled, tucking her phone safely out of his reach as he reached for it with his other hand. “Let’s go, mister. I’m hoping there’s snow cream and more cocoa back at the cabin. I’m getting cold now that we haven’t been moving much.”
“Lucky for you,” he quipped.
“Why’s that?”
Chad’s grin revealed crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. “Otherwise, I might have had to reciprocate the snow dousing.” He reached his hand up as if to grab one of the branches.
“You wouldn’t dare.” She took a step back, unsure what he would dare.
“I would dare, but I won’t do. Not this time, anyway.” He shot her a wink.
“Not any time, I hope.”
“We shall see. You haven’t left yet.” Always the prankster, apparently. But Rachel wasn’t overly worried—she’d be gone all too soon, and Chad wouldn’t get a chance.
Seven
The moon shone through the window, casting shadows on the wall. Rachel glanced at the digital clock, its glowing red numbers announcing it was only 2:30. “Ugh,” she ground out, rolling to the other side, hoping to get a new comfortable position. Unfortunately, it wasn’t even close to time to get out of bed. Yesterday’s sledding expedition left her muscles sore, and she desperately wished she would have done a soaking hot bath after dinner. But between snow cream, hot cocoa, dinner, and a warm fire, all shared with Chad, she’d been loath to give up the relaxing evening.
Her throat was dry and parched. Having forgotten to put a glass of water on the nightstand as was her norm, she flopped the blankets back. The room was cold as she slid on her slippers and robe. Using the moonlight to make her way to the door, she pulled it open and moved down the hallway slowly, trying not to wake Chad as she headed for the kitchen.
Using the flashlight from her cell phone, she took a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with water. A sound caught her attention, and Rachel froze. It sounded like a wounded animal. She glanced out the window but saw nothing, clouds blocking the moonlight. The eerie sound repeated, except this time she recognized that it came from within the cabin.
Rachel moved out of the kitchen, nervously glancing around. She started down the hall, the sound coming from behind her this time. Chad? She moved back toward the living room and discovered him thrashing about on the sofa bed, his blankets flung off to the floor.
“No. No. There’s a bomb,” Chad cried out, his voice filled with gut-wrenching anguish.
Chad was caught in the middle of a nightmare. She stood there, a moment of decision plaguing her as she tried to decide what to do to help.
Chad moaned again, the sound more than Rachel could stand.
“Chad,” she called out softly. “Chad, it’s okay. You’re okay,” she crooned. Reaching out to touch his arm, she wanted to soothe away his nightmare. Calm him if such a thing were possible.
The second her hand connected, Chad’s eyes flew open, his hand grabbing hers. “What are you doing,” he asked, a combination of anguish and shock in his expression.
His steel-like grip held her in place. “You were having a nightmare. I’m sorry. I only wanted to help.”
Chad visibly forced himself to relax, letting out a deep breath and dropping her hand. “Okay, then.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, keeping her voice low and soft.
He pulled back, his expression blank. “Hardly. It was a nightmare, and you’re not my shrink,” he said, his voice cold and distant, unlike the laughing, teasing man she’d spent time with the past few days.
“I was just trying to be nice, and it’s no cause for rudeness. However, something is clearly bothering you, and if so, talking can be a good balm for the soul.”
Chad shook his head. “If I need help, I’ll ask. Right now, I’d like to be left alone so I can go back to sleep,” he said, dismissing her.
Rachel could only guess the nightmare was related to his time in the military. If he refused to get help or talk to anyone, he’d never be free from a past that clearly haunted him. She couldn’t imagine all that he’d seen and done, her heartbreaking for the anguish he was suffering.
Patience.
It was as though God was trying to tell her something. Rachel vowed to be patient, but she might not have long enough to help, judging by Chad’s reaction. The storm had passed, and already road crews were working on cleanup and clearing roads. She turned and headed down the hall without so much as another word.
Chad might think she would let it go—but that’s where he would be wrong. If she was unsuccessful in convincing him to seek help before she left, Rachel would do the one thing left she could do to help—call in backup. Leslie.
The rest of the night remained sleepless for Rachel, her brain in overdrive regarding Chad. But by the time breakfast rolled around, he acted as though nothing had happened, although the undercurrents of tension rippled just beneath the exterior bravado he displayed. A bravado she hadn’t been able to break through with her attempts to lead him into a discussion over the past two days.
They played games, ate meals together, and had even gone sledding again. Friends for sure, but confidants? Not even close.
The sun was shining brightly, warming the air with its radiant heat. Reports claimed the main roads were completely plowed and accessible, and it was only the back roads that remained problematic. Which meant it wouldn’t be long before she’d be gone.
Rachel looked up as Chad came through the front door, looking tall, handsome, and completely worn out from all the shoveling she’d seen him doing starting early this morning. “Making good progress?” she asked.
“I’ve cleared a path around the house, and the driveway is clear. Tomorrow, I will start a path down the gravel drive that leads back to the main road. Hopefully, by then, they will have the secondary roads all cleared.”
“Trying to get rid of me?” she teased.
Chad shrugged out of his jacket. “Cabin fever is more like it.”
“If you say so. It’s not like you wanted me here in the first place, so I reckon you’ll be glad to see me leave.” Rachel grinned. She didn’t honestly believe it, but then with Chad, one never knew.
He moved to the living room and sat down next to the fire, holding out his hands for warmth. “I wouldn’t go that far. You’ve been good company to have around when it comes to being snowed in.”
Rachel was surprised he would admit such a thing. “Wow. What a nice compliment.” Truth be told, she thought the same thing of him.
His gaze held hers, neither of them looking away. An awareness passed between them, like a silent message acknowledging their friendship. But it was more than that. A connection of sorts as if by getting through the past few days had been a test of wills, and they both came out winning—together. Well, all except the issue with Chad’s nightmare.
“Have any luck with the applications you submitted for your n
ext mission trip?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Now I know you’re trying to get rid of me,” she teased.
“Just making conversation.” Chad glanced at the Bible in her hands and turned back to the fire, but not before she saw the lines of tension crease his forehead.
Rachel figured now was as good a time as any to bring up the subject of the nightmare again. She’d prayed about what to do, and the helper gift God had given her wouldn’t let her walk away without trying to reach Chad again. “I know this isn’t a subject you want to discuss, but I can’t help but feel we should. You can’t shove what happened into the dark shadows, Chad. Do you think the nightmare is because you have a Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?”
His gaze snapped to hers. “It’s called PTSD, and I remember telling you to let it go. Why would you bring it up again?”
“Because I care about you. As a friend,” she clarified, not wanting to send the wrong message. “Will you at least promise me you’ll talk to someone?”
“No, little Miss Fix It, I won’t promise anything. There’s nothing that needs fixing,” he said coldly.
So much for the easy friendship, but it had to be said. “Could have fooled me. You were afraid a bomb was going to explode. That’s not a normal nighttime adventure, and considering your recent return from Afghanistan, it would make sense. Why would you be so stubborn about something you clearly need help with to move past and not let it haunt you?”
Chad let out a deep breath. “They’re just flashbacks from the past. Given what I’ve seen, I’m not surprised. It’s the same reason I want to help the kids. The horrors I’ve seen aren’t a suitable conversation for a person who hasn’t lived with them. Trust me.”
She was surprised he’d given her this much information, and she decided to press forward, taking his admission as a sign. “We could pray together—for peace in your life. God can give you the strength to get through this and figure out how to move forward. Faith can carry you forward with God’s healing.”