Page 4 of Snowed In With the Grizzly

Grandma Jo was the kindest, funniest person, full of stories about all the fun she and my mom used to have together. She opened my eyes to a whole new world of love and laughter. She promised to persuade my father to let me visit her every year. All that long winter, the thought of staying with her kept me going through my dad’s rages and mood-swings. I started to plot a way for Charlie and me to move there permanently.

And then Grandma Jo died in a freak accident. Her car went off the road into a ravine. It was good weather. There was no collision, no witnesses. It was so weird. A wave of grief hits me for the hundredth time. I still miss her so much every day. She and my mom both.

* * *

Three and a half hours later,I pass a sign saying,Welcome to Wilder’s Edge!My heart gives a little jump. My shoulders are stiff and my eyes are burning. The snow has continued the entire way, and I’ve had to drive real carefully on these narrow mountain roads. I made it before nightfall, officially. But the sun has already slipped behind the mountain tops, and the road is dark as I take the final turn that leads me to my destination. And I pull up short—

Because the building in front of me is nothing like the cozy log cabin I remember.

I peer through the deepening gloom in confusion.

It’s a dilapidated shack. Broken down. Barely hanging together.

This can’t be it. Did I make a mistake with the GPS? I grab my phone and examine it. Nope. Correct location.

I reach into the glove box and pull out an old photo I took when I was staying at the cabin last time. There’s Grandma Jo, sitting on the deck with a cup of coffee, laughing. Yup, same deck, same window frames, same door. This is it, alright.

My heart sinks to my boots.

Her lovely cozy place, ruined.

I was expecting it to be a bit run down, but not like this. The poor old thing looks like a hurricane’s run through it.

Crap. Crap. Crap.

I brought a bunch of supplies and bedding with me, but this I was not prepared for, at all.

I get out of the car and gingerly climb the three steps to the decking. The wood’s all rotten, but it holds my weight at least. I take my key and turn it in the lock. It’s rusty, but it grates open. Holding my breath, I swing the door wide.

Wow, it’s cold in here, and it smells of damp. Clearly, no one’s been here for a long, long time. I can feel the wind blowing in through the cracked window panes.

I traipse through the cabin, my feet getting heavier and heavier.

Those stupid fantasies I had about curling up in bed, reading in the firelight. So naïve.

I’m more likely to wind up with hypothermia.

I can’t stay here. I’ll have to get back in my car and get back down the mountain as fast as I can. Forget the whole thing.

What a dumb idea this was!

What difference is four days going to make anyways, when I’m going to spend the next forty-plus years in prison?

I plunk down on the bed and take in the cabin gloomily, as I picture my father’s reaction.

“Didn’t make it, huh? Got a bit much for you? You never were good at taking care of yourself, Rowan.”

At least the bed still seems solid enough. It has a wooden, king-size frame, and the mattress is wrapped in plastic. Grandma Jo and I used to share it when I stayed. She told the best bedtime stories, and we’d sometimes have breakfast in bed in the mornings.

A little spark of warmth blooms in my heart.

There’s the fireplace, on the far side of the room. I don’t know a whole lot about fires, but I’m guessing it’s still operational. Maybe if I built it up real big, it’ll be enough to chase out the drafts?

I reach for a light switch. The power is supposed to be connected… it is. A lightbulb flares above my head. Okay, I have electricity. This is real good.

Come on, Rowan, I tell myself. This is the last chance I’ll have to spend some time on my own. Am I gonna let a little cold defeat me?

I passed Twin Falls on the way here. It’s a small town, but there was a little main street with a bunch of shops. Maybe I can swing by, pick up some stuff to make the place more comfortable.

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