The Bride's Second Thought. Elizabeth August
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clear the roadways. After all, this was ski country and people made their money catering to tourists. Besides, if the roads got dangerous, she could always find a motel.
With those thoughts in mind, she hadn’t paid any heed to the increasing strength of the storm nor the steadily increasing buildup of snow on the road. Admittedly, when she’d passed through that last small town, she had considered stopping, but the border was so close, and getting there had become an obsession. Minutes ago the snow had suddenly begun to come down with blizzard force. Blocking out the remaining rays of daylight, it had brought with it an early dusk. Even with her windshield wipers moving rapidly, she’d barely been able to see beyond the hood of her car and had had to reduce her speed to a crawl. She’d considered turning back but, according to the. map, there was another town not much further in front of her. Besides, since she was hardly able to see forward, making a U-turn with no visibility hadn’t appealed to her.
It was about that time that the extent of the foolishness of her behavior had hit her full force. Straining her eyes, looking for evidence of other cars on the road, she’d recalled that she’d seem none for quite a while. Even in the small town she’d passed through, no one had been out.
“That’s because everyone else was smart enough to stay in or seek shelter a long time ago,” she’d admonished herself.
Driving had become more and more impossible. Out of desperation, when she’d seen a mailbox, she’d turned off the main road onto the private lane hoping to seek shelter at the home beyond.
Now she was hopelessly stuck. Even worse, she couldn’t see any indication of a house in the distance. The lane simply wound into the forest.
Fighting a rising panic, she peered hard into the dim twilight. The lane had been plowed after the last snowfall. She could tell that because of the mounds of snow on either side. That meant that someone lived out there somewhere.
“The house is probably just around the first bend,” she reasoned, using the sound of her voice to bolster her courage.
Wrapping her coat tightly around her body, she opened the car door and stepped out. A blast of arctic air greeted her. Feeling her feet already beginning to freeze, she silently congratulated herself for not being entirely foolish and popped open the trunk. She’d been driving in sneakers but had packed boots. Finding them and grabbing her suitcase, she climbed into the back seat. There in the shelter of her vehicle, she discarded her sneakers and wet socks. A strong gust of wind buffeted the car causing it to sway. After finding a pair of fresh socks, she pulled them on, then pulled on the boots. Already snow had covered her front windshield.
“Maybe it would be smart to wait until daylight or at least until the snow stops,” she murmured under her breath. Her short trip to the trunk had left her coat snow covered and a chill creeping through her body. If she remained where she was, she had a suitcase full of clothes she could keep layering to stay warm.
“Or I could end up freezing to death in the back seat of my car when there could be a house no more than a hundred yards away,” she argued, feeling the temperature of the interior of the vehicle dropping rapidly.
Suddenly the car jolted. Looking to the window beside her, she saw a pair of huge paws spread on the glass.
A gasp of fear escaped. Then recognizing the paws as belonging to a canine, she reminded herself that dogs had masters, and her fear was replaced by a flood of relief.
A long wolflike snout and sharp bared teeth became visible between the paws.
“I think I’ll just wait in the car until his master arrives,” she decided, hoping the glass would hold.
The animal lowered itself and took a stance a couple of feet away. Peering out the window, her breath caught in her throat. She’d assumed the dog was the pet of the people who owned the house the mailbox belonged to. But on closer inspection, it looked more like a wolf. “Some breeds of dogs look like wolves,” she reasoned encouragingly. Still, recalling that wolves ran in packs, she peered out all of the other windows to see if there were any others. She could see none, but then her visibility was extremely limited.
“It’s a dog,” she proclaimed, fighting to keep her panic from rising.
Suddenly the animal lifted its chin and began to howl. It was a wolf, and it was calling to its friends! For a moment she sat frozen in fear, then her fighting instinct took over. “Think!” she ordered herself.
“I’ve got to believe there’s someone just around that bend,” she said through clenched teeth. Leaning over the front seat, she paused with her hand above the horn. Was an SOS three dots, three dashes and three dots or was it three dashes, three dots and three dashes? The first, she decided, and pressed on the horn. After the forth repetition, she stopped. She didn’t want to wear out her battery. She’d wait. If no one came, she’d try again when the snow stopped.
The cold was creeping into her bones. Forcing herself to discard her coat momentarily, she pulled on a bulky sweater over the one she was already wearing and a pair of sweatpants over her jeans, then put her coat back on.
Outside the wolf continued to howl.
“Well, if he thinks he’s found dinner for his pack, he’d better think again.” Her jaw firmed as she checked the locks on the doors, then snuggled more tightly against the back seat.
Above the wind and the beast, another sound caught her attention. It was a motor. Quickly leaning over her front seat, she switched on her lights. Coming down the lane was a snowmobile. The driver threw his arm up in front of his face and, realizing she’d nearly blinded him with her lights, she switched them off. Suddenly afraid for her rescuer, she looked for the wolf. He was running toward the approaching machine.
Moving rapidly, she unlocked her door and stepped out of the car. “Watch out!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, then looked around for a weapon to help the driver fend off the beast and any of his companions that might be arriving soon.
The driver made no move to take any precautions, and she feared her warning had been covered by the sound of the motor. Panic threatened rational thought. Refusing to allow another person to be harmed because of her, she started forward intending to lend assistance to subdue the animal. But as the driver came to a halt and turned off the machine, the beast nuzzled the man’s leg, and he reached down and ruffled the wolf’s fur.
She’d let her imagination cause her to panic! It was a dog after all. It simply resembled a wolf.
Approaching her, the driver looked at her car and then at her. He was wearing a heavy parka. What she could see of his face was obscured by a full beard and mustache while his bulk was large enough to provide a buffer to the driving snow. The phrase “a mountain of a man” came to mind.
Peter studied the woman. The strain on her face gave the impression of a lost stray tossed out into the cold to fend for itself. Where women were concerned, looks could be deceiving, he reminded himself. “Only an idiot would be out on a night like this,” he finally said.
Ellen wanted to feel indignant, but her sanity had returned. “You’re right,” she admitted, and was certain she sensed surprise on his part.
His gaze shifted to the car. “You’re not going to be going anywhere in that for a while.” Then he turned back to her. “You’ll have to come with me.”
As he started toward the snowmobile, she remained in place. Until today, she’d lived by certain rules. And not going home with men she didn’t know was a very big one.
Reaching the snowmobile, he turned back. Seeing her where he’d left her, his frown deepened. “You have two choices. You can stay here and turn into an ice sculpture, or you can come home with me.”
The snow was matting the length of her body. That, plus a frigid blast of wind that nearly knocked her over, made her decision for her. Where there was life, there was hope, she told herself. And staying here, she was certain to die from exposure. “I need my purse and suitcase,” she called back, already on her way to retrieve them.
Trudging