Authors: Kimberley Woodhouse
The end result would be worth it. And nothing would get in his way.
Nothing.
JENNA
April 7
Sultana, Denali National Park
2:03 p.m.
Fingers of fear crawled their way across Jenna's back. She pushed the swell of claustrophobia back down her throat. She just needed to see Andie.
Pawing her way through the snow, Jenna finally opened a hole to see the small area where Cole and Andie lay. Only a few feet separated them. Relief swept over her. Once again, her daughter was safe. She could almost reach out and touch her.
Thanks to that infuriating man.
Snow continued to pour from above. He'd been right. Again. Had they climbed down like she'd suggested, they would be buried right now.
Lord, thank You for saving me from my own foolishness.
She attempted to free her legs, but with the snow still tumbling down the mountain, it was no use.
Stuck. Under half a mountain of snow.
Glancing up through the small hole, she checked the forms of her daughter and rescuer. Thankfully, Cole had covered Andie with his large frame and used the rock overhang as a shield from the onslaught of ice and snow. But Jenna had been curious, drawn to the horror of the sight below her and she'd ventured a little too far away from the cover. Ignoring the tugging of Cole's protectiveness. Her defiance and rebellion had gotten her stuck. Again.
How stupid could she have been? What was she thinking to get so close to the edge? The moment had been so surreal—her eyes drawn to the destruction below her—but still, she should've known better. Once again, Jenna was grateful her actions hadn't taken her life. She might be buried, but at least she could breathe. And she could see her daughter. Plenty to be thankful for.
But poor Hank. She'd known him all these years, never suspecting the evil that lurked inside. If she had been a better example to him, could she have changed this outcome? Could she have saved Hank's life? The stark emptiness of her own lack of effort made the guilt inside her grow, eating at the sensitive places of her heart.
Lord, what have I done?
The roar of the avalanche continued and made her ears ache. How long could these things last? She and Marc had many friends who climbed these mountains in their younger days. And she remembered the pictures of beautiful avalanches. Listened to the guys tell the stories of several they witnessed during one climb. So how much
more
snow would come down with an explosion?
Her neck ached from holding her head up. She laid her head back down in the snow and covered her head with her arms. It still sounded like a deafening train rushing past at breakneck speed. The snow began to lose its clean smell, instead it reminded her of clothes packed away too long. If they weren't careful, they'd run out of fresh air in the few cubic feet of safety they shared.
Voices pulled her head back up as the thunderous noise dwindled into a dull rumble and then disappeared. Jenna watched her daughter hug Cole. Tears streamed down her baby's cheeks as they both pulled gear off their heads.
"Cole, thanks. That was so scary." Andie wiped her cheeks. "Have you seen Mom?"
Jenna lifted her hand through the hole in the snow. "I'm here. Just buried."
"Mom!" Her daughter shifted with stiff, awkward movements. "How do we get out of here? There's barely enough room to move—do we even have air to breathe?"
Cole looked down at Andie. "We're going to have to dig." He turned his attention toward Jenna. "You okay?"
"Yeah, but you better start digging. The air already feels stuffy." Jenna didn't want to voice her real thoughts. No one needed to be reminded they could suffocate.
"Okay then." He moved a few inches. "Andie, you're going to have to reach for my axe behind me. You and I will work on ventilation holes, then dig space to move in so we can try to get your mom out."
Andie nodded and reached for the ice axe. "Got it." She looked scared. "Cole?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks again."
"No problem. You would've done the same for me, right?" He winked at her daughter. Jenna could have hugged him for helping to lighten the moment.
"Um, sure. 'Cause I'm so big and strong and protective." The twinkle in Andie's eyes was back.
Cole reached toward Andie's hair, but quickly withdrew his hand.
"Cole, you really gotta stop stuffing all your emotions down. It's not good for you."
Good ol' therapist Andie.
Their rescuer just stared down at her. Then he shook his head. "You make me smile, Squirt."
Jenna's heart thundered in her chest. How would Andie react to that nickname? Breath in her throat, she silently watched and waited.
Tears began to glisten on Andie's pink cheeks.
Cole frowned. "What's wrong?"
"My dad . . . he used to call me that when I was little." Andie swiped at her face. "I just miss him."
"Hey, I'm sorry." Cole inched farther away. "I won't use it."
Andie grabbed his hand. "No, I like it. It's a good reminder to keep moving forward, and it brings me special memories. Besides, I think he would like it that you're here protecting us, helping us."
Jenna wasn't sure how she felt about that. Some days it seemed Marc had been gone forever, other days, it rushed back as if it'd happened yesterday. She had given Marc her whole heart, and full trust. Her world seemed to tilt off-kilter with the thought. How could she possibly trust someone else that she'd only known a day? She glanced back at Cole, who carefully poked holes through the snow.
He didn't appear to know how to take Andie either. Always so honest, forthright, and yet innocent and sweet. His fidgeting proved to Jenna that her daughter had struck a nerve.
"I promised your dad, Andie. And I intend to keep that promise."
"Is that all? Just because you promised my dad?"
Something akin to gentleness crossed his features. "No. That's not all."
"Good, because I need to tell you something."
Jenna waited. What could make Andie sound so serious?
"I really do trust you, Cole. God brought you here, I'm sure of it. And I wanted you to know how I feel."
He didn't respond. In fact, Jenna thought he looked a little shell-shocked.
"Cole? Did you hear me? You told me that trust had to be earned. And you've definitely earned mine . . ."
Jenna shut the rest of the conversation out. Should she trust this man, too?
Could she?
How had things spun so far out of control?
God, what am I doing? I feel so lost. I have no idea what to do, and I don't know if I should trust this man. Is Andie right? Did You send him to us?
There was no audible answer. No shining light from above, telling her it would all be okay. But in her heart, she knew to trust her daughter's instincts. Trusting didn't come easy to her anymore, but for Andie's sake, she needed to try.
She laid her head down again, her mind reviewing the incidents of the past few days, like a silent film replaying over and over. Could all of this be happening? Really?
Her eyes closed. She was tired. And cold. And buried.
———
"Jenna?" Cole's hand on her shoulder roused her. Had she fallen asleep?
She looked up into his eyes. They were a deep brown. Chocolate brown. So strong. So deep. "I'm okay."
"Let's get you out of here, all right?" The shovel in his right hand had been put to use. The area under the ledge had already been expanded.
Wow. How long had she slept? She tried to move forward, but the crushing weight on her back and legs prohibited any movement. "Good. I feel like I've got half a dozen moose sitting on my back side."
Cole's deep laughter filled the small space. And did funny things to her heart. "Ah, so I see Andie not only inherited her father's wit, but your humor and charm as well."
She eyeballed the intense man crouched in front of her. Good grief, when he smiled . . . Why hadn't she noticed how attractive he was before now? She shook her head. "
Ha ha.
Now if you don't mind, I'd like to restore feeling to my legs."
His chuckle drifted over her as she watched him scoot back over to his pack. Pulling out his ice axe again, he glanced back at her. "We need more air. Every time I punch through, more snow falls down."
He poked the axe through the snow wall several times until she saw light burst into their tiny shelter. Soon the air held that clean, sweet smell of freshly fallen snow.
As he approached her again, he instructed Andie to eat a snack and drink plenty of water. He really wasn't so bad. Strong, capable, and just a little bit ruggedly-too-handsome-for-his-own-good. And it helped that he was looking out for her precious daughter.
Cole crouched in front of her again. "We really need to get moving again. Do you think you're up for it?"
She furrowed her brow. "Are we still going up? I thought since they blew up the plane, that maybe they'd leave us alone now."
He shook his head and continued to dig in the snow around her.
But she wouldn't let him speak, she barreled on ahead, "And wasn't it snowing before the avalanche? What about the explosion? Couldn't anyone have seen that? Is it safe to climb in this weather? What about Andie—"
His large hand covered her mouth. "Jenna, you need to be calm." He glanced back at Andie. "And cooperative."
Oooohh, he made her so mad. Attractive or not, he was impossible.
He removed his hand.
Good choice. She just might've bit him.
Cole held up a hand and brushed the hair from his face. "Now look. I can see the steam getting ready to billow out of your ears, but just remember, we're doing this for Andie, okay?"
Why did he always have to do that? "Fine."
"And yes, it's still snowing. But I think we've got time before the big storm hits. We need to make as much progress as we can—get as far away from the crash site as possible." He took a deep breath. "Now, is that enough explanation for you?"
"No. As a matter of fact, it's not."
She
was the mom here. "What—do you have Spidey-sense or something? How could you possibly know about storms in the Alaska Range? These mountains create their own weather. And you didn't bother to answer my questions."
His chiseled face froze. Then he frowned. Then his jaw did that little twitching thing in the cheek, like Marc's when he was really mad. At her.
Ugh. She couldn't for the life of her figure out why this man brought out the worst in her—how he could get under her skin like a tick burrowing for blood.
She sighed. Yes, she
was
the parent. She needed to start acting like it. "Look, I'm sorry. Marc was the high-octane-military-mission-lives-on-the-line kind of guy. While I was the stay-at-home-take-care-of-the-baby type. It was all fine and dandy to hear about his stories, but I never had to live it."
"Jenna." Her name came out on a sigh as he wiped a hand down his face. "I'm not used to having to explain myself. But don't worry about it. You and I both know the rangers are too far away to have seen anything. Had the explosion not triggered the avalanche, eventually, someone would've seen the wreckage and smoke. But being that we are so
lucky
right now, not only was there an avalanche, but we've got a major snowstorm brewing. It's like all the powers that be are against us." His jaw continued to twitch. "Look, you've had to deal with a lot, and you're injured. Just let me help, okay?"
Her heart performed a little backflip.
Dare she allow someone access to her carefully protected world?
CHAPTER NINE
ANDIE
April 7
Sultana, Denali National Park
3:19 p.m.
Cole tried as hard as he could to pull Mom out, but this was taking longer than I'd expected.
God, please give Cole strength. Please.
"Andie? I need you to help me dig your mom out. I want you to loosen the snow, then I'll pull it off her."
I hesitated, then nodded and started digging.
Why am I so stiff? This should be easy . . .
"It's okay, baby." Mom's rough smile eased some tension, but didn't help the impatience taking over.
This is taking way too long, we should've gotten her out awhile ago.
"Do you think anything's broken, Jenna?"
Mom winced and peeked down at her leg. "I don't think so, but I'm going to need a new bandage."
Cole nodded and removed the last of the snow.
Mom sat up. I threw my arms around her neck and squeezed hard. Perhaps too hard.
She grunted and patted my back. "Andie?"
"Whoops! Sorry." Pulling away, I smiled. "I guess I don't know my own strength."
"It's fine." Mom leaned down and gave me an Eskimo kiss. "Your
sentsiis
is cold!"
I rubbed my nose.
Wow, it is cold.
"Oh well. Guess that's what happens up here."
Cole turned to us. "We should start digging out from underneath this ledge."
"All right." Mom tried to stand, but her leg gave away.
"Mom, are you okay?" I could feel my heart beating in my chest.
Calm down . . . Calm down . . . Calm down . . .
"Yeah. I need to get used to the altitude, that's all." She stood again.
"Oh, right. You're a whopping five feet higher, wow, that's some altitude!" I giggled, easing the tension that wanted to take over.
"Okay, little-miss-smarty-pants." Mom reached over and tweaked my frozen nose.
"Let's get out of here." Cole pointed to the hole he had dug and then climbed through.
I followed close behind. Rubbed my arms.
Brrr . . . it's cold.
Cole started to mess with our harnesses. "We need to start climbing."
Mom's smile faded. She didn't look too happy.
"Jenna, my gut tells me they'll be back."
I shuddered.
They'll be back?
"We have to climb up. It's our only option. If we go down, they may find us."
Hmm. So he's Mr. Grumpy-pants and Mr. Drill Sergeant.
"Okay . . . but for how long? And that storm's coming. We really don't know how much time we have." Mom's gaze shifted to the sky.
Yeah, I'm cold enough already, I don't want to be caught in a storm.