IF TIME WAS a constant thing, Susannah wondered why it suddenly seemed to move so swiftly.
When she was a child, the days leading up to Christmas had passed with excruciating slowness. She’d counted them off and dreamed of Santa coming and what he’d leave under the tree. But now they raced by. Two weeks felt like two days.
The flurry of activity was one reason. She hardly had time to breathe. The Whitepaths went all out in celebrating Christmas and the Winter Solstice.
Decorations, entertaining friends, preparing their handmade presents—every moment brought something else to do, including many unusual things she’d never experienced before.
She enjoyed creating the “wishing tree” with its bits of paper in the shape of leaves on which everyone wrote their wishes. Peace, she’d written on her leaf, but secretly she’d been more selfish and wished for happiness.
One night the community held a giveaway, where each family brought a gift and people competed for them with songs, dances and games.
Susannah had never been much of a baker. The best she could do was a store-bought brownie mix now and then. So she didn’t volunteer to help with the numerous cakes, breads and desserts the women prepared, but she did have a knack for creating something out of nothing.
With Nia’s eager assistance, she gathered fir boughs and other plant materials, attached plaid ribbons and pinecones. They decorated the house, barn and cabin, inside and out. Electric candles and colored lights gave everything a warm old-fashioned look.
Ryan said the idea was to make it seem as if they were outdoors, and Susannah felt she’d accomplished that.
Before she could believe it, the night of the dance recital arrived. Nervous to her toes, she nonetheless went out on the floor, determined to enjoy herself.
When she’d dreamed of dancing in a ballet, she’d had much higher aspirations than this, but she couldn’t imagine a professional ballerina having more fun than she did that night.
“I wish we got to dance again,” Nia said the next morning.
“So do I. But you’ll have other recitals.”
“I had the prettiest costume. Everybody said so.”
“Did they?” The comment made Susannah proud. She’d worked hard to put it together.
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Sending out some invoices for your daddy.”
“Huh?”
“Business things. Making sure everybody pays what they owe your daddy for the work he’s done.”
“Can I play on the computer?”
“No, not right now. I’m using it.”
Out of school for the holidays, Nia had nothing to keep her occupied, so she’d come down to the workshop to be with her and Ryan.
She’d been chattering all morning and Susannah was her captive audience. Ryan had left a while ago to finish grouting the last of the tiles for the center dedication.
“Why don’t you go outside and play? The sun’s shining, and with your gloves and cap on you’ll be warm enough.”
“I want to stay in here with you.”
“Okay, it was just a thought. Why don’t you watch a video or play with your dolls?”
“You said you’d help me wrap my present for Daddy.”
“I’ll help you later. Right now I need to do this.”
She put Nia at one of the tables with crayons and paper and told her to draw, but that didn’t last. Her attention span today was only fifteen minutes.
“Will you play a game with me?”
“No, honey, I can’t. Not right now. I have things I need to get done so your daddy won’t have to worry about them after…”
After I’m gone. She couldn’t say it out loud, not just because it upset Nia to be reminded that she was going away, but because Susannah’s heart ached so badly whenever she thought about it.
The pain would pass; she was certain of it. Once she got to New York amid all the New Year’s Eve revelers, she’d be her old self. She’d drop all this useless sentimentality.
And Nia would be fine, too. She probably wouldn’t even remember her in a couple of months.
“I wanna wrap Daddy’s present.”
Susannah blew out a breath and rubbed her temples, where a headache had started to pound. The child was bored. She couldn’t fault her for being a little irritating this morning but wished she’d find some way to entertain herself.
“Let me print out the rest of these statements and then I’ll stop and help you wrap your gift. But you have to promise to sit there and draw quietly for ten minutes. Can you do it?”
“How long is that?”
Susannah got the timer Ryan sometimes used when he dipped tiles in a chemical bath.
“When the time is up, it makes a noise.” She demonstrated for Nia how it worked, showing her the big hand moving around the dial and counting off one minute.
Nia put her hands over her ears when the buzzer sounded. “That was loud.”
“Now I’m going to set it for ten minutes. That’s ten times as long as before, so don’t get antsy. Think you can be quiet and work on your picture that long?” Nia nodded. “Okay, here we go. No talking or bumping the table or anything until you hear the noise.”
Susannah was able to finish the printing before the timer wound down.
“I did it!” Nia yelled.
Susannah took her upstairs and told her to get the gift while she found wrapping paper, tape and scissors.
Nia was excited about the little flannel pouch filled with rocks she planned to give Ryan. She’d collected them a couple of weeks ago during their excursion for fir branches and decorating materials. Ryan sometimes used pebbles and broken china in his mosaics. Nia thought her rocks would be a perfect present.
Susannah had made the pouch out of leftover felt from Nia’s costume and a cord drawstring.
“Susannah!” She ran into the den. “I can’t find them.”
“Look in the drawer of your bedside table. That’s where we put them.”
“I did.”
“They have to be there.”
But they weren’t. They weren’t anywhere. Susannah looked in every conceivable spot in the child’s room—the drawers, the closet, under the bed, through her toy chest. She didn’t find them in her backpack or under the tree with the rest of the gifts.
“I don’t understand it. They didn’t grow legs and walk out of here. Did you take them to school or to Gran’s?”
“Uh-uh.” She looked like she was going to cry. “Now I don’t got a present for Daddy.”
“Oh, now, don’t worry. We’ll find them.”
Susannah searched every crook and cranny in the loft and still came up empty-handed. One day, months from now, the rocks would probably show up in the pocket of a jumper, but for now they weren’t anywhere to be found.
“I was bad,” Nia said, letting out the first pitiful sob. “The Little People came and got my rocks ’cause I forgot to leave them somethin’.”
“I’m sure that’s not it.”
But Nia persisted and couldn’t be consoled.
Susannah felt so sorry for her, she was almost in tears herself. She held her. “Stop crying, okay? We’ll go find some more pretty rocks for your daddy.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now. We’ll do it before he gets back. Go wash your face and blow your nose.”
Susannah got their coats. She put a ten in the petty cash box and took out a roll of quarters. These were going to be some expensive rocks.
When they’d bundled up with extra sweaters, scarves, caps, gloves and boots, they set out. Last time, during their excursion into the woods, they’d gone down the driveway. This time they headed the other way, taking a horizontal line from the house.
“There’s some over here,” Nia said. “I’ve seen them.” She picked up a few, but wasn’t happy with them. “I want pretty ones.”
“Those looked nice to me.”
“Over this way.”
“Wait. We can’t go too far.”
“I know a good place. Daddy and I go sometimes to get blackberries in the summer.”
They took what appeared to be a trail, climbing for a short spell and then going downhill again.
“How far is it?”
“Up there.”
The terrain got steeper. “Nia, honey, this doesn’t look safe. Take my hand and let’s go back. We can find plenty of rocks closer to the house.”
They backtracked, following their footprints until they came to a spot where the trees were so thick the snow covered the ground only in patches. Here there were no footprints to follow.
“This way,” Nia said, pulling her to the left.
“Are you sure? I thought we came up by that big oak.”
They walked for a few minutes, until Susannah stopped. “This doesn’t look right,” she said, but she wasn’t sure. It could be.
“Are you positive this is the way we came?” she asked Nia.
“Mm, maybe it’s that way.”
Great.
They backtracked again, but she couldn’t find the oak. Were they above the house or below it? It was impossible to tell. The hardwood trees were leafless, but the pines and other evergreens formed a canopy. Through them, the only thing Susannah could see was a patch of sky.
A rustling in the bushes startled them both. Whatever was out there was big.
“Nia, honey, come with me. Quietly now. This way.”
Hurriedly they went in the other direction. The animal might only have been a deer, but Susannah wasn’t taking any chances.
“Are we lost?” Nia asked.
“Oh, no, we’re not lost. We simply got turned around. I think I know the way now.”
“What about getting my rocks?”
“I see a pretty one over there.”
Nia picked it up, decided it would do and asked Susannah to leave one of the quarters.
“Let’s see what’s over here,” Susannah told her once the quarter had been carefully placed on the ground. She decided to head downhill. If they missed the house they’d eventually run into the road. Wouldn’t they?
They started, but soon found themselves climbing. The problem was that you had to take a circuitous path to get anywhere. You couldn’t go straight up or straight down because of boulders and stands of trees too thick to pass through. Sometimes when it seemed you were going downhill, it turned out only to be the side of a ravine.
Nia selected another rock, and then another. Susannah dutifully left a quarter for each.
After an hour, she stopped so Nia could rest.
She tried to remain calm for the child’s sake, but they were in trouble. She checked her watch. After two o’clock. They’d been gone more than three hours. Nia was tired and cold.
Why hadn’t she told Annie where they were going? Or called Ryan before they left? Stupid, stupid, stupid! He’d warned her about straying too far from the house. She’d been irresponsible and put both Nia’s life and her own in danger.
She tried to figure out what to do. Bass had told her a story the other night about two hikers getting lost in the isolated Snowbird backcountry. They’d used their cell phone to guide the rescue helicopter.
But she didn’t have a cell phone. And Ryan had taken his to the center. Those lost hikers had been wise enough to carry supplies. She didn’t have matches or even water.
“I’m hungry,” Nia said. “And thirsty.”
Susannah didn’t have anything in her pockets but rocks and a handful of quarters.
“I’m sorry, baby, but we’ll be home soon.” She took off a glove and scooped up some snow. “Put a little of this in your mouth and let it melt.”
If this was summer, she’d stay put and wait. Their chances of surviving until help came would’ve been good. But night would fall by about four-thirty. And Ryan might not even miss them until much later than that. She had no idea how long he planned to work.
They had to keep moving, to somehow find their way home.
She coaxed Nia into getting up. A sound drew her forward, but she couldn’t be certain she was moving toward it or hearing an echo. Rushing water. She saw it now through the trees, a creek and a small waterfall.
She didn’t know if it was the same creek she and Ryan had crossed during their hike two weeks ago. Anyway, that information wouldn’t help her. She still didn’t know which way to go to find the house.
“Can I drink the water?” Nia asked as they approached it.
“No, we’d better not. Sometimes water in the woods has bacteria in it and can make you sick.”
“But I’m thirsty,” she whined, growing more impatient.
“I know. I am, too. We’ll eat more snow.”
As before, she knelt, took off her glove and began raking down to a cleaner layer.
“Susannah, I see a pretty gold rock.”
“Okay, honey.”
If she only had something to scoop with, Nia could crunch the snow as if she were eating it from a cone. She pulled a piece of bark from a nearby tree and found it worked pretty well.
“Try this.” Holding the bark piled with snow, she stood and looked up—and lost her breath. Nia had walked out onto rocks in the stream and was bent over the water, reaching for something. “Oh, Nia, no!” She tried to keep panic out of her voice. “Don’t move!”
As quickly as she could, Susannah ran toward her.
“But I’ve almost got it….” Nia said, leaning farther.
“No, don’t. You’ll—”
Nia’s scream as she fell into the water was like a knife in Susannah’s heart. She plunged in after her. The shock of the cold was nearly unbearable.
The water was swift. Nia couldn’t stand up and was being pulled downstream.
With every ounce of strength Susannah had, she raced after Nia, twice going under before she struggled back to the surface.
Nia grabbed hold of a thin branch hanging over the water and held on, but Susannah knew she couldn’t do it for long. Even now, her own limbs and hands were numb with cold.
Finally, she reached her. She crawled onto the bank, dragging Nia behind her by the back of her coat. Violent tremors shook them both. With no shelter and no dry clothes, they had little chance of survival.
“Oh, God!” Susannah cried. “Please let me save this child.”
“Sus-ann-ah.” Nia tried to say more but had trouble getting it out through her chattering teeth. Susannah realized she was trying to tell her she was sorry.
“Oh, baby, it wasn’t your fault,” she sobbed. “I’m to blame.”
She refused to let this child she loved die. She had to get her bearings and find the house. If only she could see above the trees.
“Lie still and don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Twice she tried to climb a tree, but her legs didn’t want to cooperate. She railed at the heavens, asking for help. On the third attempt, she had better success. The twenty feet she shimmied up the branches didn’t allow her to see much, but it was enough.
She’d spotted the sitting dog. And it wasn’t too far above them.
SHE CARRIED Nia, forcing her legs to keep moving. The cave, she remembered, was a short walk from the rock. Ryan had matches there and firewood. If she could find it, they’d be all right.
Each step was agonizing. She felt herself drifting off, wanting to stop and rest, but fear, guilt—and love—kept her going.
She found the boards and the brush Ryan had placed over the hidden entrance and threw them aside. She ended up dragging Nia in behind her; the child was too limp to stand.
Nia’s trembling had stopped and that scared Susannah. Her body had gone beyond trying to shake off the cold. She had to get the fire started and Nia out of her wet clothes.
The lantern lit easily. She didn’t waste time on the torches, but worked feverishly to get the fire going, every minute that passed feeling like an eternity.
The wood caught fire and began to burn. She stripped Nia of everything and covered her with a blanket she found in Ryan’s cache of supplies.
“Come on, baby, stay awake. Nia?” The girl’s eyes blinked open. “That’s it. Don’t go to sleep.”
She stripped out of her own clothes and wrapped herself in a second blanket. Kneeling at Nia’s legs, she began to rub them briskly with her palms, trying to warm the skin and bring back the circulation.
Every few minutes she’d add more wood to the fire, then rush back and begin rubbing Nia’s chilled body again.
Susannah lay down next to her and used what was left of her own body heat to try to warm her.
“Are we gonna die?” Nia whispered, her voice so hoarse she could barely speak.
“No,” Susannah told her. “Your ancestors will watch over us.”
“SUSANNAH? NIA?”
They weren’t in the workshop or upstairs. Ryan went over to the cabin, and although Susannah’s truck was there, he didn’t get an answer at the door.
He walked back to the barn and dialed the house. His mother hadn’t seen them.
“Did they leave a note?” she asked.
“No, I didn’t find one. And they’ve apparently been gone all afternoon because I’ve called three or four times and left messages. Susannah never returned the calls.”
“Maybe they caught a ride over to Helen’s.”
Unlikely, but he tried anyway. Helen hadn’t heard from them.
He called everyone Susannah knew—the ladies from the arts cooperative, John and Bitsy Taylor, Sandy Cummings, Nia’s friends. No one had seen either of them.
“Joe.” Maybe he’d come by and taken them to town. He caught his brother at his shop.
“Sorry, I haven’t seen them since last night.”
“I don’t like this. Susannah’s truck is here. Unless they went off with someone, that leaves only one possibility. And it’s nearly dark.”
“Get in touch with Bass. I’m on my way.”
SUSANNAH WILLED herself not to fall asleep, but it was hard. The drowsiness was like a shroud that kept wanting to wrap her in a warm embrace.
“Must stay awake,” she chanted to herself over and over. She stoked the fire again and felt Nia’s arms and legs. The color had returned to them and she seemed warmer.
She lit the torches so she could see Ryan’s supplies. No food, but she found a small metal boiler and a tin cup.
Nia needed hot liquid. Susannah could use the boiler to melt snow.
She couldn’t put on her clothes again until they dried and she couldn’t risk getting the blanket wet. She crawled through the opening naked, hastily raked snow into the pan and crawled back inside.
When the liquid was hot, she tested it and poured it in the cup. Propping Nia up, she helped her take tiny sips.
“This will make you feel better. That’s right. Drink it all down. Are you feeling warmer?”
“Uh-huh.”
Thank God she’d been able to get them here so quickly. Had the cave been another ten minutes away—well, she didn’t want to think about that.
She took some of the firewood, stacked it on the other side of the fire and laid their clothes on top to dry. She unbraided Nia’s hair so it, too, would dry.
Three more times, Susannah crawled out and got snow to heat. She made Nia drink every drop of the hot liquid.
“How do your toes feel? Wriggle them for me. And your fingers?” They seemed to be working okay.
“I wanna go home.”
“I do, too, sweetheart, but we can’t yet. We don’t have any warm clothes and it’s going to be dark soon.”
That had been the wrong thing to say. The dark scared her. She cried for her daddy, for her grandmother and Nana. Susannah rocked her in her arms.
“We’ll be fine. I promise. Daddy will find us.”
Nia’s breathing became more erratic, escalating until she began to gasp. She seemed on the verge of a panic attack and Susannah had no way of getting help.
Tears streamed down both their faces. She tried to calm the child by rocking her and talking to her gently.
“Nia, put on my magic ring.” She slipped it off the chain. “Remember, it gives you courage. Nothing can hurt you as long as you’re wearing it.”
She told her stories, about how the redbird got its color, about bat and mouse and why possum had no hair on its tail. Slowly, Nia’s breathing eased.
“Do you know that Possum is your daddy’s Indian name? Has he ever brought you to this place? Did you know about it?”
Nia shook her head.
Susannah told her the story of her ancestors, about the little boy named Whitepath who had been born in this cave and had lived here with his mother and father.
“His handprint is on the wall over here, along with your daddy’s, his daddy’s and even his granddaddy’s. Would you like to see? Keep your blanket wrapped tightly around you.”
Susannah brought the lantern and held it up to the wall. The flames of the fire cast dancing shadows on the pictures.
“See, here’s the little boy’s. And here’s your daddy’s.”
“It’s too small.”
“That’s because he put it here when he was a little boy. One day your handprint will be here, too.”
“No, it won’t,” she said.
“Yes, it will. Every time a child is born in your family they get to put their handprint on the wall. Uncle Joe and Uncle Charlie’s are here and Aunt Anita’s. You’re next.”
She hung her head. “I bet Daddy won’t let me,” she whispered.
“Why on earth would you think that?”
She looked up at Susannah with the most devastated expression she’d ever seen on a child.
“Because I’m not really his little girl.”