Uncontrollable (The Nature of Grace, Book 2) (18 page)

He rubs his eyes. “What’s the plan for today?”

I can’t even look him in the eye as I start to gather my things. “We have to leave.”

He rubs his eyes and tries to smooth down his cockatoo hair. “You sure? Maybe I want to stay.”

A chill runs down my back and my hands start to tremble. “I’m not out of the woods yet. I need to get to a hospital.”

Suddenly, outside I hear crunching in the snow.

“Someone’s here.” Wyn’s ears perk up. “Betcha it’s Porter!”

I almost stick my head out the front door until the sound of whistling fills the air. Al and Carl fill my thoughts. I’ll never forget the song they used to whistle in the woods. I still hear it in my sleep sometimes. I grab Wyn’s arm and shake my head without saying anything. His eyes grow wide.

I whisper, “Stay quiet.”

Even though I know he doesn’t understand, he hisses back. “We need help.”

I shake my head harder and mouth,
please
.

My whole body starts to shake again. I can’t tell if it’s the after-effects of hypothermia or the onset of complete terror. The heavy footsteps get closer and closer. I put my finger to my lips and mouth to Wyn again,
trust me
.

He nods once, and we both sit quietly. Neither of us makes a sound as the footsteps walk above us. The weight of the person sends a shower of snow down on our heads. I stare at the ceiling, praying the roof will hold. I hope no one can tell we’re hiding down here. Luckily it snowed, so any trace of us would have disappeared in the night.

I think of the wolf and wonder if the person standing above me is connected to its death. Wyn reaches over and grabs my hand. I don’t pull away. My heart drums in my chest as the whistling continues. Al’s face flashes in my mind. The songs. His sneer. His alcohol breath. His knife. The way he gunned down my Dad right before my eyes.

I bite my lip to prevent me from wailing. I would rather stay here and freeze to death than run into Al ever again.

The person must stand on top of us for a while, because there is no sound. Is he looking for me? Does he know we’re here?

A few minutes later, the footsteps start up again and slowly fade into the distance. I let out a long sigh.

Wyn frowns. “You going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Porter doesn’t whistle.”

He looks confused. “Maybe a rescuer does.”

I shake my head. “Not like that.”

He faces me. “No one else would be out this far. We need to get you help.”

“I found a dead wolf. Right before I fell.”

He combs his fingers through his hair. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, but this one was alive. I saw him take his last breath. That means someone else might be out here besides us. Someone who isn’t supposed to be.”

“You think someone is killing the wolves? Because Porter doesn’t. Did you find anything different?”

I shrug. “No. Same as before. No marks or evidence of anything. I just don’t know what’s going on or why someone other than Porter would be out here. And surely they would have been calling my name or something. That person was sneaking, like he was stalking something. Or someone.”

Wyn thinks for a second and rubs his five o’clock shadow. “So what… you think that was–”

I place my hand over his mouth before he says Al’s name. “I don’t want to think. I just want to get out of here and go home. I’m sure Birdee is freaking out right now.”

Wyn quickly packs up the rest of our things. As I start to crawl out, he stops me. ‘Wait. Let me go first. Just in case.”

I nod as he crawls out the door, and for a few minutes, I hold my breath. Wondering. Is there a person still out there? Hiding? Waiting?

Wyn pops his head back in the doorway. “All clear.”

I stay where I am. “You sure?”

“Positive. The sun’s out too, so let’s hurry and hike before it gets bad again.”

I slowly inch my way out of the safe space. As soon as my body hits the cold air, I start to shiver again. “I can’t get stuck out here for another night.”

He holds out his hand to help me up. “Oh I don’t know. It wasn’t
that
bad.”

I make a point not to look at him. I just can’t bear to see the satisfied, happy smile on his face, knowing he thinks our relationship has moved to a new level, a level I don’t ever imagine for us again. Whether Mo is here or not.

My legs buckle underneath me. “Let me sit here for a second to catch my breath.” But really, I’m too petrified to move. I don’t know which way that person went, and we could be walking right into him.

Wyn scans the trees. “You rest. I’ll do a quick check around.”

He walks slowly around the area, in and out of trees. Even though I’m tense waiting for him to return, I lean against the makeshift cave and study the tracks in the snow, heading the opposite way we’re going. But there are no markers, which is usually what a search and rescue team does to indicate their trail. What if Wyn is right, and we missed a chance for help? This long hike out is not going to be easy for me.

Just then, I spot something in the frozen snow. At first it appears to be a long leaf or a branch, but when I lean in closer, my breath sticks in my throat. It’s a green bandana. My hand trembles as I pick it up. It looks just like the ones Al and his whole posse carried. I gasp for air as my throat closes. My heart stammers in my chest, and my eyes dart around the trees. What if he’s watching me, waiting for a moment to strike, like a cobra on a weasel?

Wyn pops out of the trees, startling me. “You ready? I found the way out.”

I shove the bandana in my pocket without telling him and keep my eyes on the trees. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

Wyn and I walk down the path. Actually, he walks, I stumble along while he does his best to hold me up. My legs feel like wet noodles, and my lungs feel as if they’ve been sawed in half. I have to stop every few yards to catch my breath and recharge.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

He urges me on. “You don’t have a choice. And by the way, since when can’t you do something you want to do? Where’s that feisty spirit I love about you?”

When he says the L-word, I mumble, feeling somewhat sick to my stomach. “It’s frozen.”

He supports me as I walk down the path. The icy breeze burns my face and sends me into trembling fits as the wind’s cold fingers reach down into my clothes, piercing my layers. I just want to crawl under a blanket and sleep or slide into a hot bath and submerge under water. Never to surface again. I’m not sure how long we walk. I just focus on taking one step at a time.

“I can’t feel my toes and fingers.”

Wyn checks my watch. “We don’t have far to go.” He obviously doesn’t realize how fast he’s walking because he moves ahead some.

I collapse right where I’m standing and gasp, taking in a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry. I need to rest.”

“We don’t need you getting wet again.” He lifts me to my feet.

I shake my head. “I can’t walk anymore.”

Without saying a word, Wyn places one hand on my back and slides his arm under my legs, scooping me up. “Don’t sweat it. I gotcha.”

I lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. “I didn’t know you were strong.”

His breath tickles my hair when he talks. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Since when?”

“People can change without you even noticing.”

I don’t say anything else as Wyn carries me the last mile out of the woods. By the time we reach the road, Agent Sweeney and a crew of people are lined up under a small tent, talking. As soon as they see us, Sweeney rushes to my side.

“Thank God you guys are okay.” He takes one look at me and motions to a stretcher. “Jesus, Grace. You look awful.”

I mumble, “Gee, thanks.”

A stretcher rolls up next to me, and Wyn lays me on it gently before he collapses onto a fold-up chair. The medics lay silver heated blankets over me and tuck them around my body. Like I’m a hot potato wrapped in foil, waiting to cook. The heat permeates me immediately. I’m so relieved to not feel cold anymore. I’m still shivering, but I can feel my body finally thawing.

Wyn leans over me with a blanket over his shoulders and lightly kisses my forehead. “You’re going to be okay.”

I whisper, “Thanks to you.”

He smiles and rubs my cheek. “My pleasure, Little Miss Independent.”

Survival Skill #15

When surviving a trauma, sometimes to get past it, you must face the people and places that remind you of the event and not shy away
.

E
ven before I’m able to even open my eyes, I hear someone crying.

I peek through my eyelids and see Birdee sitting next to my hospital bed. She is clutching my hand, and her head is rested on my arm. The only other sound is my heart monitor beeping in the background. I attempt to say something, but the inside of my mouth is parched and cracked. I lick my lips, but my tongue feels dry and swollen.

I hear her mumbling, “Please, please, God. Let her be okay.”

I clear my throat. “You’re praying now? The other day you two were arguing.”

Her head pops up. Her eyes are almost swollen shut, and tears are streaking down her cheeks. I immediately feel horrible for putting her through this.

She strokes my head. “Thank God you’re okay.”

I look around the room. “Is Mom here?”

She shakes her head. “I haven’t been able to get a hold of her yet. The storm took down some of the lines, so phones have been out.” She starts to cry again and cups my face. “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay. Does anything hurt?”

“Everything hurts.” I hold her hand. “I’m fine, though. Really. Wyn took care of me. I got a little cold, but really I’m going to be good as new. No permanent brain damage. At least not anything new.”

She forces a smile. “I’ve been so worried about you. They didn’t think you’d make it. The storm came in so fast and so hard. When Agent Sweeney said you two weren’t back yet, I just didn’t know what to do. Then it got to be nighttime, and I thought for sure you were–”

“Not even close. I’m fine.” She nods and wipes her face. I try to make her laugh. “What happened to the Birdee who never worries about anything? Tough as nails? The one allergic to drama.”

She remains serious and keeps a straight face. “I guess she left when your father died.” She covers her mouth with one hand and shakes her head. “I can’t lose you too, Chicken.”

Tears fill my eyes thinking of Dad. “Ditto.”

Birdee sits on my bed softly. “What happened out there?”

I tell her everything. About separating from the team. About the dead wolf. About the whiteout and falling into a deep snowdrift.

“Wyn stayed with me. I didn’t think he had it in him, but I wouldn’t be here without him.”

She smiles. “Yes, so I gathered. Poor boy’s been driving me nuts since you got here. Coming in and out every other minute. Asking me if you’ve woken up. If you need water. Checking in with the doctors. Damn boy’s gone looney over you.”

“He’s mental alright.”

I don’t say any more than that to Birdee, but I can’t help flashing back to the cave and remembering kissing Wyn. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this. Again.

I quickly change the subject. “The weather came in so fast, we had to build a snow cave and hunker down for the night.”

She strokes my hair. “I remember when your Dad used to build those in the backyard every winter. He loved making tunnels and secret dens. Some kids wanted to do sleepovers in tents, but your dad always wanted to sleep outside in his snow caves. In the middle of winter. Crazy kid. Wasn’t afraid of anything. Not even Mother Nature herself.” She stops and swallows. “Maybe I shouldn’t have encouraged him.”

I close my eyes, suddenly exhausted again. “Oh, stop feeling sorry for yourself. I’m the one who needs some attention here.”

She laughs and in one second, she’s back to the same old lady. “You are a little smartass like him, too. I like it.” She strokes my hair. “Can I get you anything?”

“Maybe some water?”

She walks over to the sink and pours me a glass. Then she holds it up to my lips. “Drink.”

I take a few sips and let it slosh around in my mouth, washing away the dryness. “You are a great nurse. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Birdee scoffs. “Ha! Don’t get used to it. Tomorrow I’ll have you doing chores again. You can only milk this for so long.” She looks at me with her green eyes and sighs.

“What?”

“I need to say something, and I know you’re going to get mad. But I just gotta say it.”

I notice my butt’s fallen asleep and try to sit up a little in my bed to change positions. “What is it?”

She adjusts the pillow behind my head and sits down again, this time folding her hands in her lap. Never a good sign. “I want you to quit this project.” I open my mouth to protest, but she holds up her hand. “Before you say no, hear me out.”

I nod. “Go ahead.”

“To be honest, I can’t take it. After sitting there all night worried, I can only imagine what your mother went through last summer with you and your dad. I can’t do this to her again. She won’t make it if anything happens to you, and I promised to take care of you.”