Page 91 of Out of the Cold

“What do you mean? What else could I possibly do?”

“I don’t—” he broke off and turned away, pacing to the woodstove and back. What would make this okay? He couldn’t have his heart ripped out every time she went off on her own. “You could stay closer to home, or only go out when I’m with you.”

“Gabriel, I know you were scared, but I can’t agree to that.”

“Why not? We go out together almost every day, anyway.”

“But it can’t be arule. I’m finally confident enough to go out on my own. I can’t lose that.”

She wasn’t listening. She acted like she understood, but she didn’t.

“How am I supposed to save you if I can’t find you?” he said, his voice cracking.

Her eyes grew big, and now tears were falling. “I can’t even imagine what you went through when Ricky died, and I’m so sorry I caused you more suffering. Please, let’s sleep on this and talk about it tomorrow.”

“It won’t make any difference. I can’t lose anyone else.”

“What if from now on I leave the phone on? That way you can always call me if you’re worried.”

“You’d really do that? You wouldn’t forget?”

“I’ll make sure I turn it on before I head out the door.”

She was throwing them both a lifeline. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it was something. “I guess we’ll try that.”

She gave a hesitant smile. “I knew we could work something out.”

“You should get changed,” he said.

She looked down, as if she’d forgotten she was still in the clothes she’d been snowshoeing in. “Oh, right.” Her expression was hopeful when she looked back up. “Want to join me in the hot tub?”

“You go ahead. I’ll clear the snow.”

“You don’t need to do that. I can help—”

“I’d rather get to it now.”

She hesitated, as if unsure whether to let it go at that. Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”

He took a shaky breath. She was fine. Nothing bad had happened. But he was nauseous, his muscles weak from residual fear.

He put on his coat and went outside. He didn’t need to clear snow so much as clear his head.

***

The snow fell gentlyonto her and into the tub as the sun set, but the peace she normally felt didn’t come. Muscles relaxed, but her mind still in turmoil, she got out of the tub, threw her robe on, and headed back inside to face Gabriel’s uncertain mood.

He was nowhere in sight.

Going to a window, she spotted him outside his cabin, the glow of his porch light making him visible. Only a few inches had fallen, but he was shoveling like a storm had come through. The path connecting the cabins was clear, and he was in the process of removing snow from around his woodpile now.

She was learning that was how he dealt with things. Maybe working himself until he was exhausted would help.

She dressed quickly in warm sweats, her stomach queasy with nerves, and sat down to write a letter. At six o’clock, she stuck the leftovers from the chicken stew he’d made last night into the oven. Surely he’d come back soon. It was dark out, and there was nothing left to shovel.

She was starting to think about calling him when she heard him in the mudroom. A minute later, he came into the kitchen.

She smiled from her seat by the woodstove. “The food’s ready, but it will keep if you want to shower.”

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