Because their days had taken on a routine as well. She now knew that Ryan was an early riser and normally got up at the ungodly hour of five. By the time Jen crawled out of bed—at a reasonable seven—Ryan had already taken the girls on their first hike of the day. Jen would use that quiet time alone to write in her journal, which had taken on a life of its own. In one of her books, the second one, she’d devoted an entire chapter to the benefits of keeping a journal, of writing down thoughts and dreams. Of course, she’d never done that herself until now, just like she’d never practiced meditation even though she advocated it in each book. She no longer feared getting hacked into tiny pieces by a crazed hermit, but the journal had become therapeutic. This morning she had read back to the first couple of entries and had to laugh. Her trepidation at having to share a bed with someone had been a major concern the first two nights. Now, she no longer hesitated getting into bed. Whether it was because Ryan was a woman or that she simply had no other choice, her phobia of sleeping with someone appeared to have vanished. She did wonder if the same would hold true with Brad. For some reason, she didn’t think that would be the case. She folded her arms around herself, glancing at the clock that hung near the kitchen.
She had found that Ryan normally returned by eight so she’d taken on the chore of making breakfast, starting it just a few minutes before Ryan was due back. Breakfast choices were limited as there were no eggs. Ryan had jotted down an easy recipe for biscuits which Jen had made yesterday. She had to admit, they were very good. Ryan’s freezer was stocked and today Jen had browned sausage and fried potato slices. If she were in Santa Fe, she’d have fresh, hot tortillas. She had not expected that here, so she was pleasantly surprised to find several packages in the freezer. So, breakfast tacos it was.
As the clock ticked closer to eight thirty, she began to worry. She turned from the window, pacing slowly, her eyes darting between the clock and the door. Should she go out to look for them?
No
. They would be fine. They hiked every morning, regardless of the temperature. Besides, she wouldn’t know where to start looking. Ryan had mentioned that they liked to mix up their routes. In the afternoons, Jen had joined them three times so far. Yesterday, it was up the ridge to catch the sunset. It was beautiful, and she wished she’d had her camera. Unfortunately, that too was buried in the avalanche.
She looked again at the clock. Ryan was forty-five minutes late. She felt a touch of panic but pushed it back. What if something
had
happened to Ryan? What would she do? They had Internet back, but who would she e-mail? And the phone? She assumed Ryan carried her cell with her.
Just as she was about to jump into a full-blown panic attack, the door opened. Her eyes flew to Ryan’s, then down her body; she appeared to be unharmed. The dogs ran inside ahead of Ryan, their tongues hanging out as they rushed up to her, nudging her legs. She let out a heavy, relieved breath, smiling at them as they vied for her attention.
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said.
Jen raised her eyebrows.
“You looked worried,” Ryan explained. “I’m later than normal.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Jen felt embarrassed now. “I was starting to panic,” she admitted.
“We went downhill a little too far. Coming back up took longer than expected,” she said as she hung her coat by the door. “Thanks for keeping the stove going.”
“I added a log about an hour ago.”
Ryan glanced into the kitchen. “Smells good. I hope I haven’t ruined it.”
“No. I’m sure it’s fine. Are you ready to eat?”
Ryan nodded as she held her hands out over the fire. Jen went into the kitchen, surprised by the relief she felt. She hated feeling so dependent on someone, but up here, she was just that. She busied herself with breakfast, feeling Ryan watching her. She finally stopped and looked up, meeting her gaze.
“If there was an emergency, what would you do?” Jen asked her.
“Like what?”
“I mean, what if you got sick or something?”
Ryan shook her head. “I don’t get sick. But my first-aid kit is pretty extensive.”
“Okay. What if one of the dogs broke her leg?”
“I would set it and she would walk with a limp the rest of her life.”
“But what if something major happened? Something life threatening,” she said. “What would we do?”
Ryan smiled. “Rule number one—don’t panic.”
Jen laughed. “If you’re the one in danger and you’re counting on me to rescue you, you better panic.” She placed a plate with a stuffed tortilla on the bar. “Coffee? I made another pot.”
“Yes. Please.”
Jen filled both of their cups. She knew Ryan liked hers black and she brought it over. To her own, she added a little sugar, then walked around the bar to join her.
“You know, we’re not entirely cut off from the world,” Ryan reminded her.
“I know. Having e-mail makes me feel a little bit connected, at least.”
“Not just that. If there really was a medical emergency, I could call Reese and request a helicopter rescue. There’s a search and rescue team in Gunnison,” she said. “The bill would be hefty, but in an emergency, we could do it.” Ryan took a bite of her taco, and Jen was pleased by the audible moan she heard. “This is great,” Ryan said around a mouthful.
“Thanks. It should really have some green chilies, but I made do with some of the red pepper flakes you had.” Jen was about to take a bite, then paused. “So if there was no medical emergency but I was willing to pay, they would send a helicopter up to get me?”
Ryan nodded. “Technically, you’re a stranded traveler. A consequence of the avalanche.”
Jen smiled. “I thought you were going to say, a consequence of me being an idiot.”
“I’m sorry I called you an idiot.” It was Ryan’s turn to pause. “Do you want to get rescued?”
Jen considered the question carefully. If it had been posed to her the first day, the answer would have been a resounding
yes
. She’d have wanted to be rescued and taken back home to Santa Fe, the workshop forgotten. But now, on the sixth day, the answer wasn’t quite as conclusive.
Do I want to get rescued?
She supposed, ideally, the answer would be—should be—yes. If for no other reason than that she was infringing on Ryan’s space. She decided to flip the question to Ryan.
“Do you want me to get rescued?”
Ryan too seemed to consider the question fully. Jen was pleased by the slight smile that formed. “No. That would mean I’d have to go back to cooking my own breakfast.”
“But if I was rescued, you could go back to being a hermit.”
“That’s true.”
“And you wouldn’t have to share your bed with someone.”
“Well, it’s been awhile since a beautiful woman has shared my bed. Certainly never up here. I can’t complain about that.”
Jen met her eyes briefly, then looked away as a blush threatened. It was an innocent statement meant to tease, yet Jen knew the underlying meaning. Ryan lived alone, in all aspects of her life. She had no...lover. That thought brought the blush wholly to the surface, along with multiple questions.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you alone? I mean, I know the hermit thing, but why are you
alone
? You’re so...so beautiful.” She shook her head, hearing how that sounded. “I mean, attractive.” She rolled her eyes
. Is that any better?
“Pretty.”
Ryan laughed, seeming to enjoy her discomfort. “Are you asking why don’t I have a lover?”
Jen nodded and Ryan’s smile left her face.
“I told you, my family is wealthy,” Ryan said. “I found that anyone who wanted to get close to me did so because of my family name, nothing more.”
“You really believe that?”
“I know that.”
“That’s sad if you truly believe that, Ryan. I hope that people aren’t really that shallow.” Jen took a sip of coffee. “Besides, I’m sure you have much more to offer than just your family name, whatever that is. You did, after all, rescue me.” Jen rested her elbows on the table, considering Ryan’s excuse. “It would be hard to find someone who wanted to live isolated like this, I suppose. But I think you fell in love with someone, and you got hurt. It’s easier to lump everyone in the same category then. That way, you won’t stand the chance of getting hurt again.” Jen met Ryan’s eyes, noting the slight flash of anger there, but she didn’t pull back.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I believe I do.”
Ryan pushed her plate away and got up. Jen thought she’d crossed a line and was about to apologize when Ryan held up the coffeepot in a silent offer. Jen nodded. She watched the thoughtful expression on Ryan’s face as she poured, wondering if Ryan was about to share some elusive memory with her.
“Her name was Megan. I thought...I thought she was the one, you know.” Ryan glanced at her with a smile. “I was young and stupid. Barely twenty. I wanted to offer her the world. Hell, I did. I never quite fit the mold of what my family wanted. What they expected. I hated the dinner parties, the publicity, all of it. Megan, it turned out, loved it all. I wanted to run away. I thought she’d come with me.” Ryan met her gaze with a sad smile. “She ran to my brother instead.”
“I’m sorry,” Jen said quietly.
Ryan shrugged. “She was the first. Not the last.”
“Maybe it was the company you kept.”
Ryan laughed at that. “Yeah. Maybe I needed to hang with a different crowd, huh?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make light of it,” she said, adding sugar to her coffee.
“No, it’s okay. I just wanted you to know why I’m alone. Every woman I met, I always wondered if there was an ulterior motive. And there usually was. So, I enjoyed the sex, nothing more.” Jen blushed at that and Ryan laughed again. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be so blunt. I forgot about your...upbringing.”
Jen nodded, but her curiosity was getting the best of her. “So, are you ever going to tell me your real name?”
“My really, really close friends—of which I have two, Reese and Morgan—call me Ryan. I’d like for you to call me Ryan too.”
Jen smiled, pleased by the answer. “Thank you. I feel honored then.”
“Does it just drop off?”
Ryan leaned on the broom, the fresh, powdery snow all but swept off of the deck. It was warm in the sunshine, and she and Jen had taken off their coats as they shared the task of sweeping snow.
“It’s a good drop. But I’d never toss you off here. It’s too close to the cabin.”
Jen smiled at her but took a step back, away from her. “Your continued mentioning of how to dispose of my body is starting to worry me.”
Ryan laughed and walked over to the edge of the deck. She motioned for Jen. “Come here.”
Jen hesitated, then moved closer, craning her neck to look over the side. From the cabin windows, it looked like a sheer drop-off into the canyon. It was just an illusion. Ryan leaned casually on the railing, beckoning Jen to join her. This was Jen’s first time out on the deck and she wanted her to see the view.
“I have a slight fear of heights,” Jen said.
Ryan held her hand out, and Jen took it without question. “It’s okay. It doesn’t really drop off.”
Jen leaned against her as she peered over the side. “Well, now I’m embarrassed.”
Below them was another deck, only five feet from the railing. And below that was the slope of the ridge, still another hundred feet or more from the canyon edge.
“I call that the sun deck,” Ryan said. She pointed to the side. “Steps are over there.”
“It’s magnificent. The views are incredible.”
Ryan nodded. Besides the guys who built the cabin, only Reese and Morgan had been up there. She was actually thrilled to have someone else appreciate the beauty of it. She felt Jen squeeze her hand before releasing it, and Ryan quickly shoved her own in her pockets. She leaned against the railing with her hip, her gaze sliding back to Jen involuntarily. Jen shielded her eyes from the sun, still perusing the view with a smile on her face. Wisps of blond hair stuck out beneath her wool cap, and her cheeks had a rosy glow to them.
“So beautiful.”
Ryan blinked, unaware she’d been staring. She met Jen’s eyes briefly. “Yes,” she murmured, then shoved off the railing. “Intoxicating, isn’t it?”
“Peaceful,” Jen countered. “I can’t imagine anyone being able to gaze out across the mountains like this and still harbor ill-will for another person or have malicious thoughts.” She smiled. “This could be a cure for everything.”
“What? A view from my deck?”
“Yes. I feel so...free,” Jen said, holding her arms out at her side. “Strange, since I’m stuck here and not free at all.”
Ryan laughed. “Mentally free? Emotionally free?”
“Yes. It’s almost as if real life has stopped. There are no deadlines, no meetings, no schedules. No missed phone calls. No need to rush.” Jen smiled at her. “No being late. No getting lost. My two worst habits.”
“I understand the getting lost part. But late?”
“Habitually late. For everything,” she said. “I’m sure it has something to do with my upbringing, my childhood.”
“Being homeschooled? Or the church?”
“Both, I suppose.” Jen turned her back to the view and faced Ryan, her eyes thoughtful. “Each week, Monday through Saturday, I wouldn’t see another soul except my grandparents. I wasn’t allowed to watch TV and the only radio was controlled by my grandfather. It wasn’t until Sunday at church that I saw—and talked to—other people.”
Jen walked slowly along the deck, her hand absently brushing the snow from the top of the railing. “I told you I was socially inept. I was also painfully shy. I didn’t know how to talk to people, to other kids. I related better to adults, I think, because I was always around adults.” She glanced at Ryan briefly. “My clothes were very, very conservative. Decades old and out of style. And I had these hideous glasses,” she said, pointing at her face. “The other kids would make fun of me.”
Their eyes met, and Ryan saw a host of emotions there. She didn’t know what to say so she kept quiet, waiting on Jen to continue her story.