Known (2 page)

The girl glanced around, wiping her nose with the back of her glove. “Where’s your car?”

“I walked.”

“What?” Fresh tears started. “How are we going to leave?
It’s so cold.
”

He held on to her hand and stepped into the broken trail she’d created during her dash from the SUV. As he moved closer, the sour smell of vomit mixed with the odor of smoke. A figure was stretched out on the middle row of seats. Two amazingly thin but insulating emergency blankets covered the body. Stocking feet peeked out from under the shiny blankets.

No boots?

“What’s your mom’s name?”

“Gianna. Gianna Trask,” she whispered.

He met the girl’s dark gaze. “I’m Chris. You’re both going to be okay.”

The girl shuddered. “She kept throwing up. But she didn’t stop breathing. My mom always says that’s the most important thing,” she babbled. “As long as someone keeps breathing and you do whatever it takes to keep their airway clear. I barely slept because I kept checking to make certain she could breathe.”

He patted her shoulder. “You did good.” He turned his attention to the still figure. “Gianna? You okay?” he asked loudly and shook a foot. He could feel the cold from her skin seep through the thick sock and dread swept through him.

Oh, no.

The foot moved.

Thank you, God.

He shook her foot again. “Gianna? Can you sit up?” He leaned into the vehicle and placed a knee on the seat. The woman stirred. The acrid vomit odor made him breathe through his mouth.

“Violet?” Gianna muttered. She shifted under the blankets.

“She’s right here,” Chris answered, assuming Violet was her daughter.

Gianna jerked, flung off the coverings, and thrashed, fighting to sit up. “Violet?” she croaked. Terrified brown eyes identical to her daughter’s stared at Chris.

“Mom!” Violet leaned in next to Chris. “I’m here! He’s okay. He’s just trying to help.” Her voice faltered, and Chris knew she’d abruptly realized she’d placed her trust in a complete stranger.

Chris backed up, relieved the woman was conscious, and Violet moved forward to kneel on the floor, taking her mother’s hands. Gianna continued to stare at Chris. Her gaze alternated between terror and relief. A million questions flitted across her eyes. She looked past him at the steaming cabin and horror crossed her face.

“What happened?” she whispered.

Gianna couldn’t catch her breath. Fuzzy images of fire, Violet’s terrified face, and snow ricocheted through her brain, and she couldn’t hang on to one thought long enough to feel grounded. She didn’t remember Violet’s getting her out of the cabin. Or the walk to the SUV. Or vomiting. Although all around her were the clear signs that someone had been sick. She perched on the edge of the backseat, her legs hanging out, as the stranger, Chris, rubbed her frozen feet. Her stomach twisted and churned, making her swallow hard.

Her head was killing her.

She pulled off her gloves and lightly touched her closed eyes with icy hands, breathing deep.

“Headache?” Chris asked.

Keeping her eyes closed, she nodded. “And I can’t get warm.” She wasn’t used to feeling helpless and relying on someone else. The sensation was nearly as disconcerting as her nausea and loss of memory. Pain shot up her legs from his rough massage, and her eyes flew open as she flinched. He froze at her movement, his hand’s heat seeping through her socks.

“That’s a good sign,” he stated.

She knew that but held her tongue. He was kind. She studied him as he ministered to her frozen feet, seeking a distraction from the pain in her head. Faded round scars dotted the left side of his neck and trailed up the side of his cheek to vanish under his black stocking hat. He hadn’t shaved in a few days, which slightly hid the scars. A layperson might not notice them, but she was trained to notice all scars. To her professional eye, they were cigarette burns, and she wondered who’d tortured him. So far Chris was a man of few words, but he’d known the right ones to use. He’d calmed Violet and instructed her to get in the front seat with the dog and to hold the dog close under her jacket.

“Oro has body heat to spare,” he’d told her. Now the dog and the girl watched closely as Chris rubbed feeling back into Gianna’s feet. He’d tried unsuccessfully to start the SUV several times. He’d finally glanced under the hood and shook his head. “I’m no mechanic. I can’t even begin to guess what’s wrong.”

“It was fine a few days ago,” Gianna commented as feeling rushed back to her feet. “We drove up here from Portland and haven’t driven it since then. Once it started to snow real hard, I decided to stay put.”

“Understandable. We’ll go back to my place. I know it’s supposed to warm up tonight . . . hopefully enough to melt that layer of ice. I don’t want to venture out to the highway. The roads are like skating rinks and I won’t risk putting us in a ditch, but tomorrow the conditions should be better. We can head down to the ranger station and let them know what happened here.” He glanced up at the low dark clouds. “Usually they’d spot the smoke and come investigate, but I suspect since the fire happened at night that they didn’t see it and the clouds are blocking the residual smoke. We can leave a note on your dashboard with my name and address in case someone comes looking. Do you have boots in the cabin?” he asked.

“They should be just inside the door.” She took in the blackened cabin structure, feeling shock roll through her system again.

How did we survive?

If Violet hadn’t woken up . . .

Tears threatened and she swallowed hard as bile churned in her stomach.

“I don’t think we should go in,” she said. “It can’t be safe. The roof looks ready to collapse.”

“
We
shouldn’t,” Chris said. “I’ll take a quick look.”

“I’m sorry.” Violet’s voice cracked and her eyes filled. “I put on my own boots and coat, but I didn’t grab yours last night. I couldn’t think straight.”

Gianna’s heart hurt for her terrified daughter, and she reached out a hand to touch her cheek. “I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“I was so scared,” Violet whispered. “You wouldn’t wake up.”

“How did it start?” asked Chris. He focused on her feet, but Gianna knew he was very interested in the response. She looked to Violet.

“I don’t know.” Violet sucked in a breath and tightened her hold on the dog. “The smoke in the loft woke me up. It was so thick, I could barely see. I called out for you and felt around, but you weren’t in your bed.”

Gianna nodded. The loft held two double beds. No privacy, but she’d welcomed the small space, hoping it would offer a chance to reconnect with her teen daughter, who’d been distant for the last six months. Violet had been horrified to learn she had to share a room with her mother.

“I crawled down the ladder and the kitchen area was in flames. You were crashed out on the couch and wouldn’t wake up.”

Gianna couldn’t remember falling asleep on the couch. She thought hard, trying to recall what they’d done that evening, but even dinner was sketchy in her mind. “What’d we have for dinner?”

Violet’s brows narrowed. “Meatloaf.”

Gianna nodded, remembering she’d brought the homemade meatloaf with them, knowing it’d make an easy meal at the cabin.
Wine
. She’d had wine after the meatloaf.
How much did I drink?

That could explain her headache. Shame and horror rattled her as she realized she might have drunk too much to respond in last night’s emergency. One glass was sufficient to relax her; two made her extremely drowsy.
Did I drink more than that?

She couldn’t remember.

I could have killed us both.

This isn’t right.

She looked away from Violet and met Chris’s gaze. His calm hazel eyes didn’t judge her, but she knew he had to be wondering if alcohol had been involved. She didn’t need any extra judgment; she was piling on the guilt just fine.

“It’s over. No one died,” he said softly. He held her gaze another long second and then looked at Violet. “You were a real hero. It’s amazing that you got your mom out of there.”

“I was terrified,” Violet muttered. She buried her nose in the furry top of the dog’s head, and Gianna mentally thanked Chris for making her daughter sit with the dog. Pets healed. Had that been his intent?

He met her gaze again and gave a subtle shrug of one shoulder at her questioning stare.

“Do you have kids?” Gianna blurted.

Surprise and then pride lit his eyes. “My son, Brian, is ten. Oro is his dog.”

Gianna noticed the lack of wedding ring.
Divorced.
“Is he at your cabin?”

“He’s at Disneyland with his grandparents.” Chris stood and brushed the snow off his shins. “I’m going to get your boots. We’ve got more than a mile to walk, and you’re not going to make it unless we get your feet covered.”

Gianna tentatively wiggled her toes, welcoming the lightning that flashed up her legs. “I can walk. Be careful in there.” She wondered how stable the cabin was. All four walls were still standing, but the outside was well scorched and the roof looked like a cheese grater. A strong wind could knock it over. She couldn’t see the far side, where according to Violet the kitchen had been in flames.

Did I start the fire with the propane oven?

Gianna shook her head and inhaled deeply to slow her heartbeat; she was never careless. Any fire had to have been a result of a malfunction of some sort. Chris plowed a path toward the cabin, stomping to break through the ice. Gianna glanced at Violet, who watched Chris with worried eyes, and a dark thought crossed her mind: she’d caught Violet with cigarettes twice in the past few months.

Had Violet been smoking?

Gianna hadn’t found any recent evidence of cigarettes, and she had looked. Thoroughly. Snooping through her daughter’s things and checking her cell phone had become necessary evils in her home.

Chris gave a hard shove on the handle of the front door. The door opened and he paused, studying the ceiling. He disappeared inside and Gianna held her breath. He reappeared seconds later with a pair of sooty boots, dusting them off with his gloved hand. A small shower of black dust floated to the white snow. He set them down and went back inside. He stepped out with her heavy ski jacket. He shook it and wiped it clean as he walked back to the women.

He handed the smoke-scented items to Gianna, and she thanked him profusely. He brushed aside her thanks, and she wondered if she’d embarrassed him. His face gave away nothing, and she recognized he was highly skilled at hiding his emotions. He’d briefly lit up while talking about his son, but that was the exception. He’d been calm and direct since she’d woken. Unlike his, her face revealed everything she thought, and Violet had inherited the trait. Or curse.

“I hope there’s nothing else you can’t live without for a few days,” Chris said. “I’m not going back in there. The roof looks ready to fall in.”

“My cell phone and purse are still in there, but I don’t care,” stated Gianna as she slipped her feet into her boots. “There’s no cell service up here, and I’m not risking our lives for some possibly melted credit cards.”

“I have my cell,” said Violet. “It’s been useless. I tried to call out all night.”

“No one else was in the cabin, right? No pets left behind?” Chris asked, glancing at the cabin, his expression inscrutable.

“No,” said Violet. “We don’t have any pets.”

Gianna laced up her boots and stood. A wave of nausea rolled through her as the clouds decided to release another round of snow. Not soft lovely flakes. These were tiny sharp flakes, almost more ice than snow. She pulled on her coat and winced at the overpowering stench of smoke. She turned and gathered up the thin silver blankets, hooking one around her neck. Gianna had always kept a small stash of emergency supplies in the vehicle and she wondered now if that forethought had saved their lives. “I’m glad you remembered the kit in the back,” she said to Violet as the girl and dog trudged around to her side of the SUV.

“I forgot,” Violet confessed. “I was desperate and digging through all the compartments, looking for a flashlight, and found them.”

“Good girl.” Gianna draped the other blanket over her daughter’s shoulders. Violet’s eyes filled. She flung her arms around her mother and hugged her tight.

“I was so scared,” she choked out. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

Gianna held her daughter, treasuring the heartfelt hug and the glimpse of the affectionate child that usually hid inside her maturing daughter. Hugs had been scarce for a long time, and her own eyes watered.

“Ready?” asked Chris. He’d written a note saying that everyone had survived the fire and giving his name and address, and set the piece of paper carefully on the dashboard. He’d stood back as she’d put on her boots, but she’d felt his careful gaze on her every move, weighing whether she was well enough to walk through the forest.

“Ready.” She lifted her chin and met his gaze, ignoring the pain that pounded inside her forehead. She had a daughter to get to safety, and she needed to rely on this stranger. He turned and followed the broken trail she assumed he’d made when he arrived. She gestured for Violet to follow the man and she brought up the rear. Walking was slow. Their boots sank twelve inches into the soft snow under the ice. At first Gianna had to stretch her legs to follow his steps, but soon the holes grew closer together. She was touched that he’d noticed and shortened his stride.