Page 8 of Mountain Refuge

I spun where I sat, a thick blanket tangling in my legs. A woman knelt by a large stone fireplace. It looked like she was in the process of adding more wood to the flames. She was beautiful…and somewhat familiar, I realized. She had long blonde hair, braided down the back of her neck.

Since I had a seven-year-old, I tended to relate that look to Elsa fromFrozen. If she had red, frizzy hair, it would have been Merida. While I tried to keep the children engaged outside of video entertainment, I did allow the occasional movie. My little angel used to loveDisneyprincesses. Not so much anymore. Her innocent outlook on life had been stolen from her, and she no longer dreamed of fairytales and happily-ever-afters.

I looked around but I didn’t see my angels anywhere.

“They’re in the kitchen,” the woman told me. She handed me a glass of water. “The baby’s been a food monster since you guys arrived. We’re almost through your stock of baby food.” Her face scrunched up in a way that, if the situation was different and I wasn’t so confused, I would have thought cute. Maybe even alluring. “Unfortunately, we’re almost out of diapers too. I was grateful when Lydia had pulled out such a big stack from your backpack. But damn, that kid can poop! I’ve already had to wash his onesies, so he has clean spare clothes.”

I wanted to comment, since I knew firsthand how much Henry could eat and poop, but my brain was caught on the fact that I was almost out of diapers. How long had I been out? I looked to the window, as if it could tell me what day of the week it was. All I knew was that it was daylight.

I remembered the journey here. My confusion was clearing the longer I was awake. I knew the decisions and choices I’d made. I also remembered my mistakes. The biggest one being turning right at the intersection and blindly following Corbin’s instructions to drive until he found me. Clearly, he hadn’t found me.

But this woman had.

I remembered our blizzard rescue on the back of her snowmobile. I remembered assuming she was a man, and then my shock as I passed out that she was in fact a woman. Did she live up here with her husband? I don’t recall seeing another man before I passed out but that didn’t mean he wasn’t here.

“Who are you?” I felt that was the most sensible question to ask. While I couldn’t see the kids, and I desperately wanted to, I could hear them. Lydia was singing to Henry. The fact that she was singing Taylor Swift’sLove Storyto her infant brother was a little weird, but it reassured me she was happy and safe. Lydia didn’t sing otherwise. When she felt threatened, she went scarily quiet.

It was the terrible reality of our lives that I knew that fact about my daughter. I once again chastised myself for not being able to protect her better. I was a teacher, not a warrior.

“My name is Brooke. This is my cabin. You’re on Big Mountain near the town of Whitefish, Montana. I’m assuming you guys are staying at the ski resort and you got lost in the storm? It was very lucky I came upon you when I did. It snowed all night and into the day.”

Thank youwas on the tip of my tongue, but the lack of snowfall outside caught my attention. “Into the day? What time is it?”

She pointed a thumb out the frosted window. “That’s west. You slept through last night and today. I was trying to figure out if I should wake you so you could eat or go to the bathroom, but Lydia told me you hadn’t slept in a long while so I figured I’d let you be.” She paused. “What’s your name? Lydia just calls you ‘Daddy’, but I doubt you want me to call you that.”

Her eyes widened as if she hadn’t realized the implication behind her words until after she’d said it. My eyebrows shot up. I’d never had an age-play kink or any desire to be called ‘Daddy’by an adult, but I had to admit I did like the way her cheeks flushed over her slip.

To save her embarrassment, I didn’t draw attention to her unintentional innuendo. “Adam.”

I had told Lydia I’d planned on us using fake names but we’d never settled on what names. Though her favorite for Henry was “Poopy St. Smelly Pants”. Since this woman, Brooke, already knew Lydia’s and likely Henry’s, I figured she might as well learn mine. After all, we wouldn’t be staying here once I figured some things out. Knowing our names shouldn’t hurt. I just hoped Lydia hadn’t given away our surnames. “And thank you. For saving us, I mean. And taking care of the kids while I slept. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep like that.”

It really was careless of me. What if something had happened? What if, despite the blizzard and mountain terrain, we’d been followed? What if we’d been found while I’d been snoozing? That was a dangerous mistake, and I couldn’t make it again. I had to keep my kids safe.

I wasn’t even sure how to find Corbin now. The burners Jack had given us were left in the car in my hurry to pack. I knew electronics and cold didn’t mix, so I wondered if they were even usable now.

I thought of theJack’s General Storethat we’d passed on our way through Whitefish. Maybe I could get there and figure out if that was the same Jack. He’d mentioned Corbin had bought the postcard in his store. It wasn’t until I saw the snow outside and the trees surrounding the cabin that I wondered why Corbin would buy a beach scene postcard to send from a mountain town in Montana.

“Are you hungry?” Brooke asked. She walked past me, and my eyes fell on her round ass. She had some hips on her, that was for sure. I’d never been a man to prefer one body type overanother, but I certainly liked the way those round hips worked on her. She was wearing black leggings, tall gray wool socks, and an oversized pink sweatshirt. I could see the straps of either a bra or tank top on her left shoulder where the large neckline hung low. She had lightly tanned skin. It was the kind you could tell came naturally, not from a bottle.

The oversized shirt made me remember my wonder if there was a man in her life. It was probably his. But as I looked around, taking in the cabin, I didn’t see a man’s touch. Not a jacket by the door, not boots on the rack. The décor seemed functional more than decorative, but it was also distinctly feminine.

I stood up, untangling the blanket from around my legs, and noticed for the first time that I wasn’t wearing pants. I looked down at my bare legs in confusion. I didn’t recall taking off my pants before I’d passed out. Which begged the question who did take them off. A glance around told me they weren’t nearby.

“Shit,” I heard softly. I looked up in time to see Brooke turn quickly around to give me her back. “Sorry, I forgot about that. I mean, not that I forgot I took off your pants. I did. I mean, I had to. I mean, your jeans were soaked through and you shouldn’t have had that cold clothing against you in this weather. Even with the fire going, you could have gotten sick and done some serious damage to your body. I mean, not to your… Well, I mean, it could have been to your… But that wasn’t what I was looking at! I didn’t look, I swear! I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable. But, um… Your pants are in the bathroom. I washed them and dried them. Well, the air dried them. I don’t have a dryer. Just a small washer. It’s just me so I don’t need full machines, plus they take up too much space and energy.”

She stopped babbling, dropping her face down into her hands. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felta smile tug on my face. God, how long had it been since I’d had a reason to smile outside of my children? It had certainly been years since a woman had made me smile so. As ungentlemanly of me as it might be, I found her floundering to be extremely alluring.

In quick motions, she stood straight and squared her shoulders. “I’ll go get you your pants.”

I picked up the blanket and wrapped it around me like a toga. College had made me an expert on how to tie a sheet around me like that. I was still wearing my underwear but clearly Brooke would have been uncomfortable if I walked around without covering myself up more. Was that because her husband could walk in any minute?

No, my gut told me. I didn’t think there was someone else here. I didn’t see pictures on the walls or a wedding picture on the mantel above the fireplace. Actually, the fact that the walls were mostly bare of pictures was interesting. No family photos or even one of a dog or vacation. The only picture was one of a sunset behind a mountain ridge.

As soon as I walked barefoot into the kitchen, Lydia looked up from where she had Henry perched on a chair. It took me a moment to figure out what he was sitting in. It looked like someone had taken a plastic bucket, drilled holes into it for his legs to fit through the sides, and strapped it to a wooden kitchen chair for a makeshift highchair. The fact that Henry was held in by bungee cords brought another smile to my face.

I didn’t know how I knew but this had Brooke written all over it. Upon closer inspection, I noticed there was caulking around the edges of the bucket where Henry’s legs stuck through.

“Daddy!” Lydia ran over to me.

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