Chapter Four
Amanda
Two more days have passed, and we still haven’t been rescued.
Five days since the crash. My son most likely thinks I’m dead, and the thought of that alone is like someone reaching into my chest and ripping out my heart.
I refuse to die out here. No planes have streaked the sky since our first day.
My leg is stabilizing, and Spencer has reinforced my brace with metal rods he pulled out of the insides of the seats.
I can limp small distances through the snow with minimal help from him.
Nightfall has come, and we secure ourselves from the deadly bite of the elements in our little plane.
Spencer and I have slept across from each other with the fire between us.
At first, our conversations were on the lighter side, but each night, we have opened ourselves up a little further.
Inched our way in trust towards one another.
I’ve learned he is a man of strong morals and values.
He’s kindhearted, but his life is his work.
I get the feeling there isn’t much else for him other than a few close friends and an aunt and uncle he speaks highly of.
He has shied away from talks of his family, and I know he isn’t with someone.
How this man isn’t taken is beyond my comprehension.
“What do you want to do tonight? Do you want to play another card game?” I ask.
He huffs and smiles. “Honestly, I’m a little sick of them. Sorry, can we take a break from them tonight?”
“To be honest, I’m a little sick of them, too.” I roll to my side and prop myself up on my elbow. “Want to chat?”
“I think our chats have been keeping me sane.”
“I couldn’t agree more. It helps keep my mind off the situation.”
He offers me a small nod as his eyes soften, and he stills. “I know you don’t talk much about Tyler because it’s too difficult for you, but if you ever need to, I’m here.”
The gentleness in his tone strikes a nerve, and tears well up in my eyes.
He rubs his chest with one hand over his jacket.
“I, uh, I’ve heard you at night. And I don’t want to seem weird or awkward by saying this, but you don’t have to hide it.
” He holds my gaze as the tears roll down my face.
“If you want to cry, cry. If you want to scream, then scream, even if it’s in the middle of the night. ”
I breathe in a ragged breath as the tears continue to flow at the thought of Tyler. “Thank you.” I wipe my eyes. “I wasn’t purposely trying to hide from you; it’s just that I don’t open up to many people anymore, and I don’t trust most, especially men.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“You’re not, and you don’t.” In fact, being in the most stressful situation one could be in, this is the most comfortable I have been with a man since the early years with Phil.
“It’s the doctor in me. I just want to make my patients—and friends—feel better. Sometimes I think I should just keep my mouth shut.”
“No, it’s a great quality to have. You’re very attentive and caring, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Thanks.” He rolls his eyes.
“I’m serious, and I may just choose to fully open up to you, which I don’t do for anyone these days. Not in over a decade. So lucky you,” I say, wiping my cheeks with the back of my gloves.
“I’d be honored,” he says with that gentle tone.
“Don’t say that like that. I’m going to start crying again!”
“And that’s okay, but we can talk about something else.”
My laugh sounds a bit psychotic as it’s a mix of a whimper and a cackle.
“Why are you laughing?”
I want to tell him that it’s because he’s chipping away at my defenses that I drop for no one. But instead, I just shake my head, smile, and change the topic. “This is random, but do you like Star Wars?”
“I do.”
“Are you more of a Luke Skywalker guy or Vader? Or do you like more of the newer characters?”
“Yoda is my favorite.”
“Really? Tyler is obsessed with Darth Vader and all things from the dark side. I’m not sure if I should be worried.”
“Nah, it’s a phase. All kids go through a dark side phase.”
“Well, that’s good. Are you originally from the Boston area?” I ask.
“No. What about you?”
“Yes, I grew up in Fort Collins, but now I live in Salem. Where do you live?”
“Brookline.”
“Of course, you do, Mr. Surgeon. I bet you live in one of those giant mansions.”
“Since it’s just me, it’s just one of the smaller ones.” He winks, and my pulse kicks into high gear. There is no controlling it, even though I just broke down about my son. “Looks like I know who I’m visiting at Halloween.” He smirks.
My heart rate accelerates again at that thought, and I focus for my next question. “What were you doing in Seattle?”
“I had a few complicated surgeries there. What were you doing?”
“My ex-husband had Tyler for Thanksgiving, so I needed a distraction. I decided to treat myself to a road trip through Washington and take photos of a spot I’ve always wanted to visit, the Hoh Rainforest.”
“Did it help?”
“Sort of. It’s breathtaking, but I missed Tyler, and my ex is still a dick.”
He chuckles. “Sometimes distance can help, but for me, it usually ends up being the same problem in a different place.”
“Yeah.” I rub my arms, and he must sense my unease.
“What made you want to be a photographer?”
“Immortalizing a moment. It’s like you have control of freezing time and capturing it through your lens. It’s your take on the world. You can bring light to any situation just by the click of a button.”
“Or darkness.”
“This is also true. Why did you choose the brain as your area of expertise?”
“I enjoy the complexity of it and how it controls every system in the body. Every thought we have, every breath we take, and every emotion.”
“What about the heart?”
“What about it?”
“The heart makes decisions for us. The heart feels.”
“The heart is just cardiac muscle tissue.”
“It’s our soul. It guides our life. It opens us up to others.” I laugh at the hypocrisy of my statement. “I mean, I haven’t done that in a long time, but I used to.”
“Do you miss it?”
I cover my mouth and nod, surprised at the chord he struck. “Do you open up to anyone? Or have you?”
“No to both,” he says flatly.
“Surely, you’ve opened your heart up before.”
“I’ve opened myself up to my work.”
“Okay, so why did you choose to be a surgeon?”
“To save lives.” He’s quiet and breaks eye contact as I wait for him to continue.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” A darkness creeps over his face, and his soft expression tightens. “Amanda, I mean no disrespect, and I’m sorry if I’m sending mixed signals, but I’m not ready to share my dark secrets with you.”
I pull my chin back. “I simply asked why you became a surgeon.”
“I know, and I told you the answer. To save lives.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and grabs the back of his neck as he curls in his top lip before he speaks. “But there’s more to it.”
“You’ve probably been asked that question hundreds of times.”
“I have, and I always give a bullshit answer, one I didn’t give you.”
A howl echoes in the distance, followed by several more.
The hair lifts on the nape of my neck, and Spencer straightens as he turns his head towards the opening of the door.
“Come over here,” he whispers, dragging his bed to the opposite side of the doorway.
He yanks my tattered cushions covered by my sleeping bag next to his and moves some of the scattered wreckage towards the front opening as a barrier.
The hole in the back of the plane is already blocked off by a secured tarp.
“Is that a wolf?”
“Yes, and there’s probably more than one. They are afraid of fire; they won’t get past it.”
“You think they will try to get in here?”
“If they’re hungry. They sound far away, but we need to be careful.
We’ve got to sleep on this side.” His head swivels around, and he rocks forward and attempts to push some of the debris away to free up more space, but he’s unsuccessful.
“It’s a little tight for both of us.” There’s another distant howl, and my heart jumps in fear and at the thought of sharing this space with him.
“I’m sorry, but it’s the safest plan,” he says as the firelight moves over his parted lips and dances over his widening dark eyes.
“It’s going to be warmer, and I promise I won’t bite. ”
Another howl in the distance, and I gasp and scurry towards Spencer and flatten my back against him and the overturned cushion.
I’m as far away from the opening as I can get.
He drapes his heavy arm over me and secures me against his side as I clutch it.
He reaches into his backpack and pulls out the flare gun.
“They’re not coming in, not past that fire, but just in case. Why don’t you try to get some sleep.”
“Sleep? Yeah, right,” I whisper-shout.
“Suit yourself. I’m going to be on the lookout either way.”
My body trembles against him, and he tightens his arms around me.
I have never felt so afraid but also secure.
The howls in the distance continue through the night, but the thought of us being hunted by wolves isn’t as terrifying as never seeing my son again.
It’s not even in the same vicinity. I can’t help the tears that flow, but there’s an energy about this man that makes me feel so safe and protected, but also vulnerable.
He’s cracking me open like an egg, but also into the wall I’ve built to keep others out.
A wall of strength, but also a wall of loneliness.
From what I’ve learned about him, it may be something we both share.
After a few hours, I can’t help the drifting sensation, like a raft over a gentle sea.
The flames glow and snake through the darkness, and the heat warms my cheeks.
My head falls back against Spencer’s chest, and the weight of his chin rests on top of it.
He draws the blanket up further and tucks it around my neck, then resecures his arms around me.
I close my eyes, and I’m floating again over calm waters and succumb to their lure as sleep overtakes me.