Page 31 of Cold as Hell

By “cleared” she means that Émilie has assured her any cost will be covered.

Dr. Kapoor continues, “That means I would be there in a few hours to assist, although I have contacts at the Whitehorse hospital and know you’d be in good hands.”

When we’re quiet, she says, “I understand this isn’t what you want, but we really have reached the stage where it is the best option.”

“The safest option,” Dalton says.

“Yes.”

“And we’d agree,” I say. “The reason I’m hesitating is that we just got hit by a blizzard. We can’t fly out today.”

I look at Dalton, who hesitates, but then reluctantly agrees. He might want to get me south, but he’s already assessed the conditions.

“Tomorrow then?” she says. Before we can answer, she says, “It isn’t an urgent situation. Tomorrow or the next day would be fine. I’ll tell you what to watch for, and we can monitor it until you’re able to leave.”

We are not going to panic.

The baby is fine, active and moving about. I’m in my thirty-seventh week of pregnancy. All my vital signs are good.

I’ve made it further than I dared hope, and we are in a holding pattern that means, for now, everything is fine. The contractions have stopped. If they resume without dilation, it just means my body is attempting to get the baby ready for birth.

I am in Haven’s Rock, and I am safe. April can deliver a baby, either naturally or by C-section. She’s prepared. I’m prepared. Dalton’s prepared. Anders—who has medical training—is prepared to assist. Even Mathias would bring his training to the table if needed.

I tell myself that I’m lucky. Every possible resource is at my disposal here, and I’m not in labor. I have time to get to Whitehorse if that’s what my doctor wants, and even that is only a precaution.

Yet I can’t help but feel trapped by this storm. We leave the clinic to head home, and we’re both staring into the sky, assessing.

The morning is quiet enough to hear people moving inside buildings, and the layer of snow only adds to the muffled hush. It’s beautiful, too, every surface draped in pristine white.

But that sky. That damn sky.

“The storm isn’t over, is it?” I say.

Dalton hesitates, and I know he wants to say it is, but after a moment, he shakes his head. It’s unnaturally quiet with the wind gone, but the clouds overhead aren’t just gray—they’re practically black. We’re enjoying a brief respite, enough to catch our breath—and make that phone call. But that’s it. More is coming.

“We need to pull out the two-way radios,” I say as we walk. During a storm, as long as we’re in town, we’ll get more reliable reception on those than a sat phone.

“I’d like to have one at our place tonight, and one with April, in case of an emergency. Then I’d like to leave first thing in the morning.”

“Agreed,” I say, and I don’t miss his exhale of relief.

I slide my gloved hand into his. “I’m not going to argue, Eric. Part of me freaks out a little at the thought of being in the air, away from April, but it’s only a couple of hours. Then I’ll bein the city. We’ll ask Émilie to find us a place to rent. I know that’s not easy in Whitehorse but…”

“Easier in winter than summer,” he says. “And easier if you’re willing to pay a premium.”

I nod. “In the meantime, we’ll keep that two-way radio close, just to be sure I don’t suddenly go into full-on labor in the middle of a whiteout. We—”

A figure appears, running toward us, and we both tense, clasped hands tightening. A gloved hand knocks back the parka hood. It’s Gunnar.

“Trouble at the kitchen,” he says. “Someone left the chimney open.”

“Fuck,” Dalton says.

“Yeah, it’s a mess, and people are looking for their breakfast.”

Dalton glances at me.

“Doesn’t need our personal touch,” I murmur.

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