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She woke with a familiar weight pinning her down. “Charlie.” Tara pushed up onto one elbow to stare at the cat draped across her legs.
“Move, you great lump.” He didn’t so much as flinch and no amount of squirming made a difference. She put some oomph in her voice to wake him up. “Charlie.”
He lifted his head, stretched out a front leg with his toes spread wide, then tucked it up under him and met her gaze with an indignant, one-eyed yellow stare.
“Doesn’t look like he’s ready to get up.”
Ohmygod. Shock hit her like a bolt of lightning. Locked her in place. Her heart pounded, her skin went cold.
Charlie growled as the man stepped into view, and Tara exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It was okay. His name was Jake Meyers and she didn’t know why, but she trusted him—as much as she trusted anyone.
“Do me a favor,” she said and was instantly appalled at how pathetic her voice sounded. She cleared her throat. “Go to the kitchen and open the tall cupboard beside the back door.”
When Jake did, the cat leapt off, and Tara headed down the hallway.
“Hey, now what?” he called out.
“Feed him.” She closed and locked her bedroom door.
Ten minutes later, showered and almost relaxed, she donned yet another oversized flannel shirt. They were her favorite things. Big, colorful—today she chose red—and roomy enough to wear just about anything underneath. Or nothing at all.
She passed over comfy sweats for a pair of faded jeans, wove her hair into a single braid, took a deep breath, and unlocked her door.
Jake wasn’t in the kitchen, but Charlie was, sitting beside an empty food tin, washing his smug face.
She crouched to rub his head. “Think you’re pretty smart, don’t cha?”
The front door opened and Jake crossed the room with an armload of firewood. The snow on his hair and shoulders melted as he made quick work of stacking the logs in the bin. It had been close to empty last night and was now full. Eight trips for her. He’d probably done it in six.
When he spotted her, he smiled. “Good morning.”
She hefted the cat into her arms. “Good morning back,” she said. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
His expression went blank. “Pardon?”
“What were you thinking, giving this fat feline a whole can of food?” She grinned. “It will be all your fault if he explodes.”
“Sorry.” His smile was back. “But you said feed him, and he was growling, so I popped the top and put it down before he could latch onto my leg and start gnawing.”
She wandered toward the wall of windows. “You’ll be his best friend now, so he can sleep with you tonight.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight.” Suddenly less than comfortable, she set Charlie down and curled into her favorite armchair. She could spend hours there doing nothing more than staring out at the lake, wishing...
She shoved the hovering memories away. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re snowed in and the highway has been shut down.”
He peered out. “No kidding?” His breath fogged the glass.
“No kidding. I had the radio on in my room. Apparently, the whole province has ground to a standstill. Best-case scenario, the airports and highways will reopen by midday tomorrow. That’s providing the snow stops tonight as predicted and the next storm doesn’t hit for another twenty-four hours.”
“Shit,” said Jake, almost to himself. Then he looked at her and added, “Sorry. I guess I’m going to miss my meeting in New York City tomorrow morning.”
Tara chuckled. “Same storm’s hit there, too. Whole state’s shut down.”
“So,” he said with a glance at a stack of shelves. The top sported airplane models of all shapes and sizes. The bottom, stacks of games and a row of books. “How are you at checkers?”
“Lousy. But I can keep you busy for a while before we dig into the board games.”
“Why does that sound like work?”
“It’s called emergency preparedness.” She stood and stretched. “Good chance we’ll lose power before this is over. And the water’s delivered from the lake by electric pump. So we need to stockpile water just in case.”
“What about heat? Is that the fireplace?”
“There are two more fireplaces upstairs and a combination oil and wood stove in the cellar.”
“So you want me to chop and haul more wood.”
“Actually, I’ll do that while you fill buckets.”
“But—”
“I hate doing the water,” she said. “I find it an incredible waste of time to stand there watching the level move up while waiting to switch buckets. Besides, chopping wood feels good.”
“Fine. Do you eat breakfast?”
“Sure, but we should get the water first.”
“Why don’t I start that while you cook, then we can fight over who chops wood?”
“Deal.” She pushed open the back door to retrieve a tower of white buckets stored on the enclosed porch alongside a huge stack of wood.
Jake had followed and was staring past her with a grin. “You may have tricked me this time, but now it’s game on, so beware.”
Suddenly warm in spite of the chilly air, she pushed past him. He smelled good.
It should have been uncomfortable with him standing at the sink watching her as she put a meal together. But it wasn’t, which was good, because who knew how long they might be snowed in together.
Going into the pantry for a jar of jam, she glanced at the full shelves. Enough food here to last them for months—her mom had taught her well.
Rose had been a stickler for preparation. She’d always said she lived by the old Brownie motto: Be Prepared. But Tara often wondered if her mother had been prepared to die so young. Tara and her stepdad certainly hadn’t been ready to lose her.
Stan had tried so hard to help the grief-stricken teenager he was suddenly responsible for. He’d even taken leave, given up flying for months.
But Tara had been beyond his help.
Everyone had insisted the pain would dull in time, but no one had warned her about the anger, the tumultuous inner drive to escape everything she knew.
She’d been too young to make good decisions, and, grasping at straws, she’d gone with the man who seemed to be the answer to everything.
But he’d been a total stranger.
“Hello?” Jake’s voice broke into her thoughts, jerking her back to the present.
But the past hung there like a dirty old cobweb.
She gritted her teeth and took the food to the table, uncertain now if she’d be able to eat.
Until she found Charlie on her chair. Somehow, in spite of being part of her worst memories, he always made her smile. “You’re such a lump,” she said, as she moved her place setting in front of the next seat.
She kept the conversation light, talking about snow and airports, and what bad weather did to family dinners if your dad was an airline pilot. If Stan was away, it meant worry. But if he was stuck at home, well, it was like a surprise vacation. Supper would often move outside to the barbeque or, better still, they’d bundle up and huddle around the fire pit carved into the rocky ledge beside the lake. Snowball fights caused many a burnt offering.
“Airline pilot. I guess that accounts for the aviation theme throughout the house.”
“Yep, him and my mom. It was their obsession.”
“Is that why you fly?”
“I never had their passion, but I did spend most of my childhood on some plane or other.”
“So where did the horses come in? Your parents as well?”
“No.”
Jake didn’t need to be hit over the head to know he’d struck a nerve. He swung the conversation to his own background, hoping she wouldn’t shut down on him.
“Would you believe I was obsessed with planes as a kid and got my pilot’s license as soon as I reached sixteen—the minimum age in California?”
Tara looked stunned for a minute. “You’re one of them.”
“What does “them” mean?”
“The people I’ve been surrounded by most of my life. The ones that live to lift off the earth, to be free in the air, to spend all their time on the ground looking up, hoping for clear skies.”
“No, I’m someone who has many different passions. Flying doesn’t rule my existence. Not to say I wouldn’t love to have time to fly more than I do, but it’s not the most important thing in my life.”
“What is?”
“Good question.” He hesitated. “No answer jumps out at me. What about you?”
Her eyes darkened. “To be able to look at myself in the mirror and like the person I see. To be able to sleep at night.” She took a deep breath. Seemed to shake off the cloud of serious, and said with a teasing grin, “And to have lots of fuel for the fire.”
Jake groaned. “Okay, did you split all that wood yourself?”
“What wood?”
“Coy doesn’t suit you. The wood on the back porch. You know, the stack that’s probably good for a year,” he said with a mock glare.
“Oh, the pile my dad adds to whenever he’s here? He insists it’s therapeutic.”
“Great.” He laughed. “An airline pilot who needs therapy.”
“Smart ass. Actually, it began after my mom died. I think he did it to get away from me. A grieving teenager was more than he knew what to do with, especially considering he’d just had his own heart ripped out.”
“I’m sorry.” Jake wanted to stop her before she got sad again. “I didn’t mean to dig up bad memories.”
“Actually, it’s kind of funny to think of the picture we made. Neither of us had a clue what to do with the other.”
“Where is he now?”
“Lying on a beach somewhere in Key West. He has the whole month of November off.”
“And there’s no snow down there,” said Jake with a chuckle.
“Speaking of which, I could use a little exercise. Care to join me on the driveway?”
“Driveway?”
“I’m sure we have a shovel about your size. And if you’re lucky, my dad’s gear will fit you.”