Page 24 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

She woke up starving. She stoked the fire, fixed herself dinner, which she ate on the floor in front of the hearth, and then settled onto her bed to read a few chapters of her novel. But the chill in the air and the strange creaks and groans of the old house kept pulling her focus from the book.

She’d never lived so far from civilization. Except for the last year, she’d never lived alone. At various times over the years, she’d thought about getting her own place, but she and her father had gotten along so well. And with the rent prices in Hawaii, it was either live with him or live with roommates.

Even after Dad’s death, surrounded by neighbors she’d known for years, she’d hardly felt abandoned. Back in Kona, all she had to do was step out her front door, and she’d almost always see a friendly face.

The novel failed to hold her attention, so she thought she’d watch an old sitcom on the tiny screen of her phone, hoping the familiar voices might lull her to sleep, but she had no service.

When she couldn’t sleep in Hawaii, she went for a walk. The evening air, scented by the sea and the flowers that bloomed everywhere, never ceased to relax her.

But she wasn’t in Hawaii anymore.

She was creeped out. Being in this strange wintery world, so far from everything, had her nerves on edge. She needed to find a way to feel comfortable in this place if she was ever going to sleep.

She wished she could settle in front of the fire downstairs where it was warm. But the hardwood floor wasn’t exactly cozy.

Tomorrow, she was going to get furniture. And deal with the internet and phone issues.

And she’d buy a TV, if for nothing other than noise. Could she get cable up here? Wi-Fi?

Why hadn’t she managed any of that rather than taking a three-hour nap?

Stupid jet lag had her system all out of whack.

She added those tasks to her to-do list, then closed her eyes.

But lying on the bed was doing her no good. After dressing quickly, she moved into the walkway, thankful for the overhead lights, which she flipped on along the way. Downstairs, she stoked the fire and added another log. She figured she’d want it roaring when she got back. Then she put on her new boots and coat, slipped on the nearly useless leather gloves, and trudged to the back of the house.

She could do this. She could face this scary, secluded world. She could survive here.

When she opened the door, a blast of cold air almost had her changing her mind. But…

Wow.

She stepped onto the deck and closed the door behind herself. The clouds had moved out and the moon was full, its light bouncing off the fresh snow that had fallen that evening,which covered the ground and the trees, making the world much brighter than it ought to be at nearly midnight.

Millions of stars twinkled overhead. She picked out a few constellations, and the familiarity was comforting.

The world seemed so different, but the moon had come with her. The stars had come with her.

The Lord had come with her.

She wasn’t alone.

The scent of wood smoke filled the air, comforting.

And then the silence hit her.

Had she ever experienced such silence?

There was always noise in Kona. The whir of traffic, the conversations of locals and tourists, the chirps and calls of birds.

At night, when everything else was quiet, she could pick up the sound of the surf against the rocks not far from her apartment.

But here, she heard nothing.

She couldn’t decide if it was peaceful or terrifying. Maybe both.

After carefully maneuvering down the snow-covered steps, she wandered across the backyard—herbackyard—and stepped into the woods. She couldn’t go far, though. The trees and brush were thick, and she feared falling and breaking an ankle. She’d freeze to death before anybody found her. She turned back to the yard and walked the perimeter, spying a narrow path that led into the woods near the detached garage.

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