Page 50 of Out of the Cold

Lucy’s hands stilled on the keys. She didn’t know what happened next. Did Mick declare his feelings? It felt too soon, and it would change the arc of her story. She wanted to focus on Maggie and her dream of medicine, her struggle to find her way. But Mick was stealing the focus, pulling Maggie away from what Lucy had planned for her.

“It’s cold,” Maggie said, crossing her arms over her chest to keep Mick from taking her hand, from saying something she wasn’t ready for.

If she became his girl, he’d think he had a say over her and make demands. He’d probably be sore she never had time for him. That’s how it happened with all her friends. How it happened for her gran. You had to do what needed to be done before you linked yourself to a man.

Mick nodded, his expression carefully blank. “Of course. Let’s get you home.”

She’d probably ruined everything. Maybe he’d never look at her again like she was someone special.

They continued on without saying anything, but he saw her to her door.

“You have a good night, Maggie.”

She started to take the scarf off.

“No, you keep it. It matches your eyes.”

He backed away a few steps, as if keeping her in sight as long as possible, before turning back the way they’d come. He tugged his hat down over his ears and pulled his collar up to shield his bare neck. It was only the two of them on the quiet street, and then it was only her.

Lucy stopped typing and looked out the window, seeing Maggie on an empty street. Would Maggie be alone at the end of the book? No, not alone. Having friends and family who loved you wasn’t alone.

But probably not a man. She was having a hard time believing in the kind of man Maggie needed.

She closed her laptop and stood up, the high of writing ebbing until she was left empty and uneasy. Outside, the snow was still falling, even heavier now. In the two hours since she’d been outside, everything had changed. The surroundings she’d grown to know so well had been transformed, covered and smoothed and mounded over.

She pulled on her long underwear and a sweater, then went into the back room and opened the closet door. It was huge, with shelves on one side full of lanterns, flashlights, batteries, and other things she couldn’t identify. On the other side was snow gear, including a pair of boots that were only a little too big for her.

She recognized the odd webbed things hanging on pegs as snowshoes. Poles were also hanging inside the closet.

She was going snowshoeing.

In the mudroom she donned her snow pants, winter coat, hat, and gloves while Hilde danced beside her in anticipation. Two extra pairs of socks made the boots almost fit, but it took her ten minutes to figure out the snowshoes.

Dressing for winter was exhausting.

Since she couldn’t imagine holding Hilde’s leash while handling her poles, she stuck the leash into her coat pocket. Then they were out under the white-washed sky, the wind cold on her face and pushing inside her collar. There was at least a foot of snow now, but with the snowshoes on, she only sank a few inches.

She started to head for the trail behind Gabriel’s cabin, then stopped. She didn’t have to stick to marked trails when she could follow her own tracks back home. She could go anywhere she wanted. She’d seen Gabriel head into the woods in the other direction, across the road. It was much flatter, which was probably a good thing given she was still getting used to the snowshoes.

“We’re explorers, Hildegard,” she told the dog.

But Hilde already knew that. As soon as the dog saw the way Lucy was headed, she dashed ahead, leaping through the snow like a dolphin breaking the surface of the ocean.

Cutting through the yard, Lucy crossed the unplowed road and entered the forest. She could identify many of the trees thanks to a field guide she’d found in the cabin. The cedar with its reddish trunk was easy, and she was pretty sure she saw mountain hemlock. But she wasn’t even going to try to make sense of all the different evergreens. It was enough to take note of the dark outline of their needles against the pale sky.

She moved deeper into the woods, nervous and excited by the new territory.

She passed over what she took for deer tracks, and then other smaller ones that merely skimmed the surface. A squirrel? Up ahead, Hilde was following a set of dainty tracks, her nose snuffling in the snow. Curious but still slow in snowshoes, Lucy trailed behind.

A dozen yards away, she found Hilde dancing around a hole in a huge rotten cedar lying on its side. Grabbing her by the collar, she pulled her dog back far enough that she could bend down and peer inside. It took a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, but then she saw the gleaming eyes of fox cubs—that wasn’t right, they were called kits—curled together in a heap. All at once, they began yipping.

Hilde was beside herself, straining to dive inside the den, though the den was deep and she couldn’t fit more than her head inside.

Standing up, Lucy dragged Hilde backwards, even as the dog went stiff-legged in opposition.

She got her a few yards away. “Heel, Hilde,” she commanded, determined to get the dog back under control.

Hilde continued to pull. This wasn’t good. Lucy hadn’t been practicing commands with other temptations around, and now she was paying for it. Once more she gave the command, this time applying backwards pressure on Hilde’s collar, and finally the dog sat.

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