Page 8 of Face Her Fear

Josie’s body sagged. She leaned forward and put her hands on her knees. Cooper patted her again, gently this time, then squeezed the back of her neck in an overly familiar way that, in the moment, felt oddly comforting.

“You’re okay,” Cooper said with a little chuckle. “First time staring down a black bear then, is it?”

“Yeah,” she muttered.

“Well, don’t worry. Don’t think he’ll come back real soon but we still shouldn’t stay here. Go ahead and do what you came to do. I’ll wait over there, where the path back to the cabins starts.”

His footsteps faded before Josie could think to ask how he knew she’d come to this place to do something.

SIX

Standing, Josie sucked in several deep breaths, using the box-breathing technique she had learned along with everyone else during their first group session. She emptied her lungs of air. Then, she breathed in through her nose for four seconds; held it for four seconds; exhaled for a four-count; held that for four more seconds and began again. After a few cycles, she felt more settled in her body again, more solid and less like a pile of jelly limbs. Still, anxiety pricked at her like a porcupine rolling inside her chest. A quick scan of the area reassured her that Cooper was right. The bear hadn’t come back—yet—and Cooper was not in sight.

Her hands shook as she reached into her pocket once more and pulled out her cell phone, careful not to dislodge the notepaper again. The tip of her index finger felt numb as she pressed the power button. The power-up process seemed to take forever. Josie stamped her feet to keep some warmth flowing through them as she waited. Another glance around her revealed that there were still no intruders—animal or human.

Finally, the lock screen appeared. She punched in a passcode and waited for the home screen to follow with its photo of her, Noah, and their Boston terrier, Trout. Her heart gave a funny little skip at the sight, and she wished desperately to be snuggled into bed with the two of them at that very moment. She wished that she hadn’t fought with Noah before she left. She wished she’d given him a chance to explain, like he’d asked. She wished she’d given in to his pleas to talk it out.

Would it have made any difference?

Josie didn’t know but she missed both husband and dog with a yearning that took her by surprise with its intensity. She had little time to let her notifications populate or to do much of anything except attempt to check for messages from Noah—there were none—and the weather forecast. She had left the phone powered up with its volume off when she arrived at the retreat on Saturday. When she checked it on Tuesday, even though she had not used it, its battery was almost completely drained. It had gone into roam as soon as they arrived near the bottom of the mountain and remained in that battery-sucking mode ever since. The charger was barely keeping up. Even now it was only at fifty-six percent. She held it up and circled around the outside of a large pine tree, waiting to see if it would pick up any network connection.

“Yes!” She found a spot that gave her one bar. Raising her other hand, she brought up the weather app. The phone dropped to fifty-five percent, and a tiny tornado icon spun on her screen, indicating that the app was loading. Whatever connection she’d achieved was not enough to access the app.

“Shit.”

The snow had picked up. Fat, wet flakes landed on her face and her phone screen. She scrubbed it with the sleeve of her coat, trying to keep it dry. Putting the phone to her ear, she tried to call Noah but after dialing, there was nothing but dead air. Next, she began to type in a text to him, hesitating over every word. She knew she should start out with an apology, but it galled her to write the word “sorry.” She was still wounded from his response to the news. She couldn’t exactly act like nothing had transpired and ask about the weather. She made a few attempts at a cohesive text but couldn’t bring herself to send it. Finally, she pulled up the contact information for her friend and fellow detective on the Denton PD, Gretchen Palmer. This time, her fingers moved swiftly, with no hesitation.

All is well. Couple more days to go on this retreat. Worried about weather. Can’t get internet here. Can barely get cell. Storm coming?

She pressed send and waited as a tiny icon in the shape of a stopwatch whirled below her message. It wasn’t going through.

“Dammit.”

She stamped her feet again, noticing now that the snow was plentiful enough to crunch beneath her feet. Her eyes wandered over to the boulder the bear had climbed over. Its surface was now covered.

If she left her phone on, it was possible, though unlikely, that the message might go through while she was working her way back to camp but if Gretchen responded, she wouldn’t get it unless she came back here—which she most definitely did not want to do.

Josie was so engrossed in her dilemma, eyes locked on the screen, mouth murmuring “come on, come on” over and over again to the unsent message, that she didn’t look up when she heard footsteps approaching.

She assumed it was Cooper, there to hurry her along, but Sandrine’s voice rang out, loud and appalled.

“Josie! What are you doing? Is that—is that a phone?”

Sandrine said the word “phone” as if she’d caught Josie holding a severed head. Her light brown eyes were wide with shock and disappointment. Snowflakes caught in her long lashes, and she blinked them away. The long brown and gray hair that cascaded from beneath her knit hat sparkled with more flakes. Of all of them, Sandrine seemed to be the most ill-dressed for winter that week. The rest of them had brought heavy coats, gloves, scarves, hats lined with fleece, and winter boots. Sandrine wore an overly large utility jacket, its olive color faded with too many washes. The bottom of yet another thin maxi dress swirled from under the jacket. Beneath that were her standard black yoga pants. Running sneakers completed the mismatched ensemble. Not for the first time that week, it appeared that all of Sandrine’s planning had gone toward the activities of the retreat, with none left over to pack a wardrobe suitable for Central Pennsylvania in December. Yet, she didn’t seem cold as she eyed Josie with a frown.

“Where’s Cooper?” Josie said, craning to look behind her.

Sandrine ignored her question, shaking her head sadly. “You brought a phone?”

Sandrine would have had to pass Cooper to come this far. Surely he’d warned her about the bear? Josie used the phone to gesture all around them. “Sandrine, I’m sorry, but this weather—”

With another shake of her head, Sandrine interrupted. “You’ve been very focused on the weather today. I’m not sure it’s that much of a concern.”

“It is,” Josie insisted. “If we get a lot of snow, we could be stuck here for days with little food and dwindling wood to keep the cabins warm.” And bears.

Sandrine took a step toward her. Josie wondered if she was going to ask for the phone but instead, she put a hand on Josie’s forearm and pressed it downward. “Put that away. Josie, this isn’t about the weather at all, don’t you realize that?”

One last glance at her phone screen told Josie that her message hadn’t gone through yet. She put the phone into her pocket. Slipping her gloves back on, she met Sandrine’s intense stare. “You saw Cooper on the way up here, right?”

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