Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Incredible heat penetrated Mason’s consciousness.
At first he merely kicked off the covers and rolled farther away from Rebecca.
Not understanding the source of such warmth, he sought only to avoid it.
Pale light filtered through the gap in the bedroom drapes directly into his eyes and he flung up an arm to block it out.
He finally came awake to the howling wind and the sound of sleet hitting the window.
The chill of the room drove him back under the heavy quilt as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.
He remembered holding Rebecca in his arms as they both dozed off, now the heat radiating off her small body brought him fully awake as he realized something was very wrong.
Propping himself up on one elbow he laid his hand on her forehead almost flinching when he came into contact with her burning brow.
Hopping out of bed he circled to her side and placing both hands on her shoulders, he shook her slightly.
“Rebecca. Honey, can you hear me?” he whispered, fear clutching his heart.
Her only response was a low moan.
“Sweetheart,” he tried again, fighting panic. Mason had never been sick a day in his life. He had no experience dealing with illness beyond what he'd seen on T.V.
The hoarse sound of her voice when she squeaked out “thirsty” terrified him further and jumping up off the bed he flew to the kitchen and hurried back with a glass of cool water.
“Here baby, sit up a little,” he encouraged, trying to support her and guide the water to her lips at the same time. For a moment she seemed to come awake and took several small sips, but immediately afterward she drifted back into unconsciousness.
Mason got off the bed and began to pace.
God, she was burning up. Thrusting his hand through his hair he wracked his brain.
Fever, what do you do for a fever? Were you supposed to keep them warm or try to cool them down?
He was amazed at his own ignorance. The later seemed the more logical of the two, but he knew she needed medical attention.
Throwing his clothes on Mason stopped only long enough to place a quick kiss on her dry cheek.
Running into the living room and snatching up his coat he opened the front door, cursing when the biting wind almost drove him back.
When he saw the two feet of snow piled up against the door frame, he had his first clue of how hard it might be to get her out of here.
The heavy snowfall was covered with a coating of ice and the yard looked like a glossy white lake.
Stepping out onto the porch Mason grabbed the rail and tried to keep his balance.
The truck was only several feet away, but buried up to the wheel walls.
It was covered with a solid sheet of ice and proved extremely hard to reach.
Falling several times before he made it, Mason was sweating profusely.
The doors were frozen shut and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't free them.
Slipping and sliding he made his way back to the cabin, taking off his jacket and putting his near frozen hands under his arms to warm them.
Having no cellphone service had been a plus when Mason first considered his plan, but now it came back to bite him in the ass.
The isolated area, the lack of communication with the outside world turned his dream getaway into a nightmare.
He wracked his brain trying to remember if he had seen any lights from neighboring places but the driving snow had made visibility almost nil.
Going into the kitchen Mason filled a basin with water and found some towels.
Rebecca tossed and turned on the bed, mumbling incoherently.
The twin spots of color on her cheeks accented the paleness of her face.
Pushing back the covers, and pulling aside her robe, Mason began to bathe her with the cool cloths.
Hour after hour he worked, replacing the towels when they became warm.
She fought him, moaning when the cold hit her fevered body.
Sometimes she would look directly into his eyes as if she were aware of what was going on, and the accusation he saw reflected back at him brought a lump to his throat.
This was his fault and he knew it. He'd kidnapped her, dragged her out into a storm without a coat and taken her miles away from anything resembling a town where there might be a doctor.
Mason was sweating profusely. He'd built up the fire in the main room, wanting to keep the air warm even as he worked endlessly to cool her skin.
At noon he forced some broth down her throat aware of the very real threat of dehydration.
How long could anyone have a fever like this and survive he wondered, burying his head in his hands.
He pulled up a chair next to the bed, using the bedside stand as a table.
Rebecca alternately slept and ranted, talking about things that had happened years ago as if they took place yesterday. She talked about her father and he heard the voice of a hurt little girl. It amazed him that despite her condition her recollections were very clear.
Mason made several more trips out to see if he could get in the truck, taking a lighter with him and trying thaw the doors, but to no avail.
The weather hadn't let up at all and he finally admitted it was useless.
Even if he could get the truck started, the chances of them getting out to a main road were slim at best. They were well and truly stranded.
He had been sure he'd taken care of everything.
They had enough provisions to last a week and the wood supply would see them through even if they lost power, but he never figured on Rebecca becoming ill.
Hoping he was doing the right thing, Mason returned to the bedroom and resumed his vigil, trying to cool Rebecca down.
The hours ticked by slowly, each one bringing her temperature a little higher.
The knowledge he'd put Rebecca in this dangerous position tormented him.
She'd accused him of being over-bearing and treating her like a child and he had.
It was his stupid idea that had gotten them into this and not one of her harebrained schemes.
Darkness fell early and with it Mason became more convinced that Rebecca's fever would never break.
Crushing up two aspirin he mixed them with applesauce and forced her to swallow it.
Crying softly, Rebecca struggled to obey him, choking but finally getting them down.
Mason murmured encouraging words to her as the evening wore on, trying to convince himself she would be all right.
Sometime during the night, Mason dosed, laying his head on the side of the bed.
It was four in the morning when he next looked at his watch, rubbing his eyes wearily.
Rebecca seemed to be somewhat cooler he thought and sleeping more peacefully.
Crawling up onto the bed he lay back and closed his eyes, but he did not sleep again.
At six o'clock he got up and stumbled into the kitchen, dumping out the stale coffee and putting on a fresh pot.
He added more wood to the dying fire and headed to the bathroom.
A stranger looked back at him as he splashed cold water on his face.
Gone was the arrogant man he'd been two days ago.
In his place was a man, haggard and bleary-eyed.
Two days growth of beard made him look even worse but he didn't take the time to shave.
He had placed the person he loved more than anyone in the world in grave danger and he could barely look himself in the eye.
He'd always been the one who accused Rebecca of acting impulsively and irresponsibly, but this macho-man plan might yet cost him more than a relationship, much more.
Unable to bear the thought of losing her, Mason hurried back into the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of strong coffee.
For the first time he understood what she'd been talking about when she voiced her fears on marriage.
Maybe it was better not to count on tomorrow because right now he wasn't all that certain they had one.
It had crossed his mind several times during the endless hours of the night that she could die out here, with only his slim store of medical knowledge.
There might not be time to ever put a ring on her finger, plan for their future, and see the birth of their children.
A life could be snuffed out in a heartbeat and there would be nothing anyone could do about it.
He could see some sense in words that had previously sounded morbid, but at the time they certainly seemed like an excuse to avoid a commitment.
Rebecca could often cut to the heart of a problem in an instant.
She didn't go through life with blinders on, but acknowledged the risks and took her chances knowing them.
There was a lot to admire in a woman like that.
Gulping down the last of his coffee, Mason refilled the basin and returned to the bedroom ready to do everything he could to make sure Rebecca had the chance to tell him what an asshole he'd been.
An instant after he'd placed the cold cloth on her head, it came whipping back into his face, causing him to jump in surprise. The force behind the attack had been slight and he wondered if she was delirious again.
“What do you think you're doing?” a weak voice demanded, when he replaced the cloth.
“Rebecca,” Mason whispered pulling the offending towel away and laying his cheek against hers. It was damp and cool. Her hair looked dark and curled from sweat and he slumped in relief, sagging back into the chair, wiping moisture from his cheeks.
“You look terrible,” she told him, her green eyes taking in his appearance. The flannel shirt he had on was buttoned wrong and the beard made him look like some kind of mountain man. Dark circles underscored his fatigue and Rebecca's heart went out to him.