Chapter Four
ELIZA
I wake to the sound of the wind still blowing outside, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings.
The events of last night come rushing back as I sit up in the bed.
Matt's cabin. The collapsed roof. The destruction of the lodge.
My heart races as I remember how close we came to disaster.
Taking a deep breath, I assess how I feel.
My body aches from the fall and our mad dash through the storm, muscles protesting as I stretch.
But the physical discomfort pales in comparison to the urgency of our situation.
We need to check on the lodge, assess the damage, and figure out our next steps.
I slip out of bed and make my way to the main room, the wooden floor cold beneath my bare feet. Matt is already up, stoking the fire. He turns as I enter, offering a tight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice rough with sleep or stress, I'm not sure which. “How are you holding up?”
“I'll manage,” I say, my mind already racing through our priorities. “Thanks for tending to the fire.” The heat from the fireplace cuts through the chill that seems to have settled in my bones.
“Not a problem.” He stands and tugs at the hem of his wrinkled shirt. There's an awkwardness between us now, in the harsh light of day. Last night's shared crisis created an intimacy that feels strange in the quiet of the morning. “What are we doing today?” he asks, breaking the silence.
I square my shoulders, pushing aside my uncertainty. This is no time for hesitation. “We've got a lot on our plate. First, we need to call my brother Finn using the satellite phone at the lodge. Then we should assess the damage and start planning repairs.”
Matt nods, looking impressed by my take-charge attitude. It's a far cry from the helpless feeling I had last night, and I cling to this newfound confidence. “Sounds like a solid strategy. What do you need me to do?”
I appreciate that he's not trying to take over, unlike what I'm used to with my family. It's refreshing to have someone defer to my judgment, especially after years of being the baby sister who needs protection.
“Let's eat something and then head to the lodge. I know the layout best, so I'll lead the way.”
“Alright,” Matt says, moving toward the kitchen. “Oatmeal for breakfast?”
I nod, appreciating that he remembered what we had from our inventory last night. “Good call,” I reply, joining him. “I'll get the water boiling.”
I grab a box of matches from the counter and strike one, holding the flame to the burner of the gas range.
It catches with a soft whoosh, the faint smell of sulfur lingering in the air.
The simplicity of using the range without power feels oddly grounding, a reminder of how much we take for granted.
As we prepare and eat our simple breakfast, I outline my thoughts on what we might find at the lodge and the immediate steps we'll need to take.
Matt listens attentively, offering insights from his construction experience when relevant, but always deferring to my familiarity with the place.
His input is valuable, and I find myself grateful for his company.
Handling this alone would have been overwhelming.
With breakfast done, we layer up in Matt's spare clothes since our coats were left at the lodge.
The feel of his worn-in flannels against my skin brings an unexpected comfort, their scent steadying my nerves as we prepare to face the day's challenges.
I try not to dwell on the intimacy of wearing his clothes, focusing instead on the task ahead.
“Ready?” I ask, hand on the door handle, bracing myself for what we might find outside.
Matt nods, a look of respect in his eyes that bolsters my confidence. “Lead the way.”
With that, we head to the front door, but as soon as I pull it open, my heart sinks. A massive wall of snow looms in front of us, nearly filling the doorway. The storm may have passed, but it left behind a drift that’s going to take hours, maybe days, to clear.
“Great,” I mutter, more to myself than to Matt. “We’re not going anywhere until we dig our way out.”
Matt steps up beside me, his expression fluctuating from determination to concern. “We’re really snowed in, huh?”
“Yeah,” I sigh, already thinking ahead. “There’s a snow shovel in the hall closet. Only one, though, so we’ll have to take turns.”
I quickly retrieve the shovel and hand it to Matt first. He nods, taking the lead as he begins to chip away at the snow blocking our exit.
The cold bites at my cheeks, but the exertion quickly warms us both.
It’s slow, exhausting progress, and with every shovelful, it becomes clear that this is going to take more than a few hours.
We might not reach the lodge today—or even tomorrow.
After a while, Matt passes the shovel to me, and I continue the work. The repetition is mind-numbing, but it’s necessary. “We’ll be lucky if we get out of here in two days,” I say, trying to gauge how deep the drift really is.
Matt watches me work, leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath. “Yeah, but at least the lodge isn’t going anywhere. We’ll get there when we get there.”
His calm approach helps ease the frustration building inside me. It’s a setback, but we’ll manage. We have to.
As the hours drag on, we take turns with the shovel, each of us pushing through our own exhaustion. My arms ache, and the cold is seeping back into my bones, but I refuse to quit. Finally, as the sun starts to dip lower in the sky, signaling the end of the day, Matt suggests we call it for now.
“We’ll get back to it tomorrow,” he says, his breath misting in the cold air. “Pushing ourselves too hard now won’t do us any good.”
Reluctantly, I agree. We retreat back into the cabin, where the fire feels like a welcome embrace after battling the elements. The storm may have passed, but it’s clear we’re still in for a long haul.
With the evening ahead of us and not much else to do, I dig through the closet and find an old puzzle, the kind with way too many pieces and an image that looks impossible to put together.
It’s perfect. We set up at the small table near the fire and work on it together, a quiet camaraderie forming as we place piece after piece.
Soup for dinner—simple but comforting. The evening passes in a strange mix of relaxation and shared silence, the kind that doesn’t need to be filled with words.
As the night deepens, we finally decide to call it a day. I feel a strange reluctance as I stand in front of him, knowing it’s time to say goodnight. There is a connection between us that wasn’t there before, something I don’t want to let go of yet.
“Goodnight, Matt,” I say softly, stepping closer than necessary.
Before I can second-guess myself, I lean in for a hug, meaning it to be quick and casual.
But as soon as his arms come around me, I find myself lingering, savoring the steady heat of him, the way his hands gently press against my back.
For a moment, I close my eyes and let myself feel—feel safe, feel cared for, feel something I haven’t let myself feel in a long time. When I finally pull back, a sense of loss washes over me, a longing that lingers even as I step away.
“Goodnight, Eliza,” Matt replies, his voice softer than usual. There’s a look in his eyes that makes my heart skip, but I push the thought aside, giving him a small, shy smile before turning away.
As I climb into bed, his embrace stays with me, comforting me against the cold night. I know there’s still so much to do, so many challenges ahead, but for tonight, I let myself relax. Tomorrow will come soon enough.
The next morning, we rise early, determined to continue digging our way out, but the sheer amount of snow makes it clear that it’s going to take longer than we anticipated.
By midday, we finally manage to clear a path and make our way to the lodge. The sight that greets us is heartbreaking. The storm may have passed, but its damage is undeniable.
As we step out into the snow-covered world, ready to confront whatever we encounter, the landscape is transformed, well-known landmarks buried under a thick blanket of white. It's beautiful in a stark, dangerous way, reminding me of the unforgiving nature of Alaska.
As we approach the lodge, my heart sinks. The destruction is far worse in daylight than I imagined. The roof has partially caved in, snow piling inside what used to be the great room. Broken windows gape like open wounds, letting in more snow and frigid air.
“Oh no,” I breathe out, struggling to keep my composure. This is Finn's dream, our family's legacy, and seeing it in such a state is gut-wrenching.
Matt stands beside me, his calm demeanor grounding me. His hand finds mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It's bad,” he admits, “but it's not unfixable. What do you think our first move should be?”
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to think practically. Panic won't help us now. “We need that satellite phone. Let's head to Finn's office first.”
We carefully make our way through the damaged building. I'm grateful for Matt's construction experience as he points out potential hazards.
In Finn's office, I find the satellite phone, thankfully undamaged.
Before making the call, we gather our coats from where we'd abandoned them during our escape the night before.
The snug embrace of my jacket offers some solace as I dial Finn's number with shaking hands.
Each ring feels like an eternity, my anxiety mounting with every passing second.
“Eliza?” Finn's voice comes through, tinny but clear. Relief washes over me at the sound. “Thank God. Are you okay? We've been trying to reach you. The weather reports—”
“Finn,” I cut him off, my voice wavering. Now that I've heard him, the full extent of our situation crashes down on me. “There's been an accident. The lodge ... it's bad. A tree came through the roof in the storm.”
I can hear Finn's sharp intake of breath. “Are you hurt? Is Matt with you?” The concern in his tone is palpable.
“We're both fine,” I assure him, glancing at Matt. He's examining some of the destruction nearby, but I can tell he's listening. “Matt's been a huge help. We're about to assess the damage and see what we can do to stabilize things.”
“Wait,” Finn interrupts, I know his protective big brother instincts are kicking in. “Maybe you should hold off on that until Kane, Rhys, Reid, and Nash can get there. They're planning to head over as soon as the storm clears.”
I feel a flash of frustration at the suggestion.
It's the same old story—my brothers thinking they need to swoop in and save me.
But this time, it's different. I'm already here, I've already faced the worst of it with Matt.
“Finn, we can't sit here and do nothing. The situation could get worse if we wait.”
There's a pause before Finn sighs. I can almost see him running a hand through his hair, a habit he has when he's worried or conflicted. “Be careful, okay? Don't take any unnecessary risks.”
“We won't,” I promise. “We'll handle things here. When do you think you'll be able to get home?”
“I'm working on it,” Finn replies, his voice determined. “The storm's grounded all flights right now. It might be a few days. In the meantime, you and Matt stay safe.”
As I'm about to respond, the satellite phone in my hand beeps loudly—a warning that the battery is about to die. I quickly say, “Finn, the phone wasn’t fully charged. The battery’s almost dead. Please let the others know that we’re okay.”
“Will do,” Finn replies, his voice filled with concern. “Take care, Eliza.”
“We will,” I say as the phone beeps one final time and the screen goes dark.
I turn to Matt, who's been waiting nearby. “Now that we've made contact, let's see what we're dealing with.”
As we work our way through the lodge, Matt points out potential hazards and areas of concern that I might have missed. His calm, methodical approach helps me stay focused and not get overwhelmed by the enormity of the damage.
“Eliza,” Matt says, his brow furrowed as he examines some exposed wiring, “I'm not an electrician but I am worried about the electrical system. With all this water damage, starting the generator could be dangerous. We might risk a fire or even an explosion.”
I nod, appreciating his caution. The last thing we need is to compound our problems. “What do you suggest?”
“We should focus on securing the building today. Tomorrow, we can tackle the generator after we've had a chance to check the wiring thoroughly.”
His suggestion makes sense. As much as I want to get the power back on, safety has to come first. “Alright, let's do that. Where should we start?”
Matt looks around. “I think our first priority should be covering that hole in the roof. If we can keep more snow and water from getting in, it'll prevent further damage.”
I agree, and we set to work. After retrieving a tarp from the storage room, we climb onto the roof, carefully navigating the snowy and icy surface as we position it over the hole. As I secure one corner, I ask, “How do you know so much about construction?”
He shrugs, not meeting my eyes. “I worked construction for a while before the oil rig. Picked up a few things along the way.”
I don't push for more. Instead, I focus on the task at hand.
By late afternoon, we've done all we can. The lodge is somewhat stabilized, though it's clear that major repairs will be needed. We've moved the most valuable and salvageable items to undamaged rooms for safekeeping. As we look at our work, I feel a sense of accomplishment.
Back at the cabin, I slump onto the couch, the events of the day catching up with me. Matt sits beside me. The silence between us is comfortable, both of us lost in our own thoughts.
“You did great today,” he says suddenly, his voice soft. “You're a natural leader, you know that?”
His words, so unexpected, bring a smile to my face. “Thanks,” I say, feeling a glow spread through me at his praise. “I'm not used to people actually listening to me or valuing my opinion. It means a lot.”
Matt looks at me with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. “Well, they should. You've got what it takes, Eliza. The way you handled everything today—that was impressive.”
“Thank you.” My cheeks heat up at his words. “For everything. I don't know how I would have managed all this without you.”
As night falls and we prepare for another uncertain day tomorrow, I feel a glimmer of hope. We've weathered the storm, both literally and figuratively. Whatever comes next, I know I'm stronger than I thought. And that knowledge, more than anything, gives me the courage to face the challenges ahead.