15. Mia
Chapter fifteen
Mia
I wake up to the feel of a hard, warm body behind me, and it takes a second for me to remember where I am. The fire is out, and the air has chilled the end of my nose, but I feel safe and warm under the blankets. It’s very cozy. For a moment, I feel a pang of regret. What had come over me last night? That was so not me. But then again, nothing about this situation is typical. I can’t explain what happened. I had fallen asleep and landed right into an erotic dream about a handsome stranger who made my body sing. When I woke up and realized that the stranger was in bed with me, I had to act.
Noah stirs beside me, blinking sleep from his eyes. I watch him, the way his dark hair is tousled, and his strong arms shift as he wakes. He catches my gaze and smiles faintly.
“Morning,” he says, his voice rough with sleep.
“Morning,” I reply, slightly hoarse after the expedition in the cold yesterday. “I...I guess we should get up. ”
He grins again. “Maybe I’m already up.”
I roll my eyes and can’t help but laugh. “Very funny.”
“Fine,” he yawns.
“I was thinking. Eric usually keeps two snowmobiles here for him and his wife. He can only ride one, so maybe the other is still here.”
“That would be amazing,” he nods. “I’ll start a fire to knock out some of the chill. Hopefully, we find a stash of wood out there.”
“But do we need a fire if we’re going to ride back to the plane?”
He smiles, brushing hair from my face with a touch so gentle I can’t help but lean into it. “Just a fire to get warm before we have to brave the cold again. We’ll put it out before we leave.”
“Okay.”
We dress quickly, the icy air biting at my skin. Noah starts a small fire, and we have a simple breakfast of canned fruit and water. We’re rationing the food just in case, which worries me. It implies that we are going to have a long wait for rescue. I push the thought away and focus on the positive. The snowmobile is likely in the shed. We’ll go back to the plane and—
“If we ride the snowmobile to the plane, how do we get it back here?” I frown.
“I’ll fly, and you ride. I can pick you up here, or if you want to stay and wait for Eric, you can do that.”
That was my original plan, but now I don’t know if I want to be out here alone. It is suddenly a very scary place. Before, I pictured myself hanging out with Eric for a few days or possibly being on my own until he arrived. But now…that is the last thing I want to do.
“That’s a good idea,” I say with a tight smile. “But let’s see what our options are first.”
“Good idea,” he says.
After breakfast, we bundle up in our winter gear and head outside to take stock of our surroundings. The sun is bright, reflecting off the freshly fallen snow. It’s a beautiful sight, but it masks the danger of our situation. The snow is deep, and it’s clear we won’t be leaving on foot anytime soon. We both stand on the tiny porch and survey the area.
There’s a shed with a smaller lean-to wrapped with a blue tarp .
Our breath is visible in the cold air. “Let’s head to the shed and see if we can get that snowmobile running. Is that where Eric keeps the wood?” He points toward the blue tarp.
“Yes,” I nod.
“Let’s hope we strike gold,” he says.
I silently pray for some good luck, following him through the snow to the small shed a short distance from the cabin. We use our hands and feet to clear the door, the snow packed tightly against it. Of course. Of course, it can’t be easy. It seems like everything we do out here has to be complicated.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Noah growls. He slaps the door and steps back, hands on his hips as he takes a few deep breaths.
I don’t say anything. I understand his frustration. Giving him a pep talk or expressing my irritation will only worsen this. I look around, searching for anything that might help us get into the shed. All I see is white. It looks like a soft blanket. I don’t even see animal tracks, which is actually a good thing.
“Son of a bitch,” Noah barks .
He goes after the door with new energy, his annoyance showing as he jerks and pulls. Finally, with a grunt, Noah manages to pry it open.
I can’t help but laugh.
He looks at me with a triumphant smile. “Damn, if I’m going to let a door get in my way.”
“You definitely showed it who is boss,” I joke.
He pushes it open enough for us to get inside. Thankfully, he was smart and brought his flashlight. He shines it on the snowmobile, sitting half-covered under a tarp. “How old is this thing?” he asks.
“I have no idea.”
“Do he and his wife come up here often?” he asks, handing me the flashlight.
I hold it up for him to see. “I don’t think she comes up here too often.”
I understand what he’s saying. The thing doesn’t look like it’s moved in years. I watch as Noah pulls off the tarp and tosses it on the floor.
“Keys?” he asks.
I shine the light around and laugh. “I would guess they might be hanging from the hook that says keys.”
He shoots me a wry grin, shaking his head. “Well, aren’t we a witty one this morning?” He walks over to the hook I spotlighted and retrieves the snowmobile keys. “Let’s see if this thing will start.”
He sticks it in the ignition and gives it a turn, but there is no response. He tries it again but to no avail. I can see his shoulders sag slightly. The snowmobile was our only hope for a quicker and easier journey back to the plane.
“Don’t worry. We might just need to tinker with it a bit,” I say, trying to reassure him. “Do you know anything about snowmobiles?”
“I do,” he nods. “Like I said—Alaska, born and raised. But it isn’t like I’ve got a full set of tools. And if this thing hasn’t run in a while, I don’t see me getting it to work.”
He’s already leaning over the engine. I watch as he rattles parts and mutters to himself. He obviously knows what he’s doing, which is a relief because I have no clue about machines.
“Maybe there are some tools in here somewhere,” I offer, flashing my light around the shed. There are some wooden shelves on the walls. I wonder what else might be calling this shed home. There’s some evidence of animals using it for shelter. The last thing I want to do is come face to face with a rabid squirrel .
Noah cranks the key again with no luck. He curses under his breath before leaning back and staring at the ceiling like he’s praying for divine intervention.
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask softly.
He takes a deep breath. “Unless you happened to bring some new spark plugs and fuel cleaner in that camera bag, I don’t think so.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not giving up yet,” he says with determination. “Why don’t you see if there’s wood under that tarp? If I can’t get this thing running, I want to know if we need to get some wood for tonight.”
I nod, happy to have something to do. I prop the flashlight up on one of the shelves, the beam shining on the snowmobile, and slide out the door to investigate our fuel situation.
I pry the tarp away and find what I guess is about a cord of firewood. Knowing there is nothing I can do to help Noah, I take a couple of armloads into the cabin. Worst case scenario: we’ll have it for tonight. Best case: I replenish the pile for Eric.
I go back to the shed and find Noah still hunched over the snowmobile, trying to get it started. “There is plenty of wood,” I tell him. “I took some into the cabin just in case we need it.”
“That’s one good thing,” he says with disgust.
“Do you need me to get anything?”
He stands up and looks at me. “No. I’m going to try a few things. I’ll tell you now, I don’t have a lot of hope.”
“But you have some hope,” I smile.
“Very little. Give me an hour. If I can’t get it, we’ll need to switch gears and prepare to be here for another day or two. The weather looks clear, but I have no idea if there is a storm on the horizon.”
I hear what he’s saying. It’s terrifying, but I do feel safe with him. “Okay. I’m going to get my camera and do a little scouting around. I came all the way out here. I may as well try to get some shots.”
Noah looks up from the engine, concern in his eyes. “Stay close to the cabin, Mia. It’s not safe to wander too far.”
I roll my eyes, feeling a pang of irritation. “Noah, I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.”
He sighs but nods reluctantly. “Okay. Just be careful. ”
I turn and trudge back to the cabin. Once inside, I grab my camera bag and slip back outside, closing the door behind me. I pull my scarf tighter around my neck to help ward off the chill and wander away from the cabin, the snow crunching under my boots. The landscape is stunning, untouched by human habitation. The trees are frosted with snow, and icicles hang from their branches like delicate jewels. It’s hard to believe danger lurks beneath this serene surface.
I find a spot near a frozen stream and set up my camera. The scene is breathtaking, and I snap photo after photo, losing myself in the rhythm of the shutter. My fingers are numb, but I hardly notice. The camera is my lifeline, a way to escape from the harsh reality of our predicament. I don’t think these pictures will make me any money, but I want to capture this moment for myself. This is a memory I know I’m going to look back on with fondness. Yes, it’s uncomfortable, miserable, and a little scary, but there is excitement.
I move a little further away, turning to get a few shots of the cabin with the shed in the background before going into the trees to search for creatures that might be out enjoying the weather. As I scan the forest, my camera lens catches glimpses of deer and squirrels. I feel a sense of awe at the natural beauty surrounding me. If the circumstances were different, I would feel like the luckiest woman in the world to see this—to be a part of nature.
A cold breeze brushes by me. Oddly enough, I am happy to be out here. Yesterday, all I could think about was getting inside. Today, I’m relishing the beauty.