I’d read about igloos. The thought came and went as I imagined digging into the growing drifts. It still seemed as if it would be cold, but at least I’d be out of the wind.
The howl of the blowing wind played tricks as I searched again for a vehicle.
Nothing.
Time lost meaning as my thoughts went to my parents. I couldn’t imagine their disappointment at my behavior, at leaving the city before the holiday and two weeks before my wedding. And yet I loved them and I knew they loved me. We would work this out...unless I never returned.
I spun again at the sound of something over the howling wind.
Do mirages only appear in deserts?
Two headlights pierced the snow-filled darkness, growing bigger and brighter.
Is this real?
My heart beat faster, my circulation returning and delivering pain to my extremities.
Tears threatened to freeze on my cheeks as through the darkness, a black snow-covered truck appeared.
Waving my arms with what little energy remained, I felt my knees give out as the truck came to a stop, and I fell to the snow. A face appeared before me. The air filled with small vapors as a man spoke.
“Jesus, lady, are you all right?”
Piercing green eyes stared down at me from below a bright orange hat and above a heavy brown coat.
“Cold.” It was all I could articulate with my frozen lips.
“Fuck,” the man muttered as he reached for my hand.
“Ouch,” I called out as pain radiated from my fingers.
The man’s head shook as he reached beneath me. “Can you lift your arms?” His deep voice rumbled through my freezing mind, cracking the ice and infiltrating it with warmth.
I wasn’t sure if I answered, nodded, or spoke. My concentration was on doing as he asked and lifting my arms around his neck. Strong arms lifted me from the snow and pulled me toward his coat-covered chest. I tucked my cheek against him. As I inhaled against the warm material, the scent of a campfire such as those from real wood filled my senses.
“What are you doing out here?”
My teeth chattered as I tried to speak.
Holding me with one arm, he opened the door to his truck and placed me on the seat. “I’m going to get you someplace warm.”
Strapping the seatbelt over me, he inclined the seat. Marvelous warmth blew from the vents as I closed my eyes. The scent of burning wood brought back a happier time. I remembered sitting by the hearth in my grandparents’ cottage. It was on a lake with a real wood-burning fireplace.
I fought to keep my eyes open. After all, this man was a stranger. My battle was in vain. With my energy depleted, the warmer world faded to unconsciousness.
* * *
I snuggled against the softness of the warm blanket moments before my eyelids fluttered open.
Before me was a raging fire, flames jumped as damp logs snapped and crackled. The fireplace was made of sandstone, much like the one at my grandparents’.
Panic bubbled within me at the prospect that maybe this was heaven, a place of comfort in my memory. Maybe there weren’t clouds, harps, streets of gold, and pearly gates. Instead, the afterlife was one of comfort. My stomach twisted in hunger.
I shouldn’t be hungry in heaven.
Raking my fingers through my disheveled hair, I began to look around. The only illumination was from the fire and a small kerosene lamp setting on a table. Sitting up, I wrapped the quilt tighter around me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my clothes lying over the footboard of the bed, stretched out to dry. Peeking under the quilt, I confirmed that I was only wearing my bra and panties.
Wiggling my fingers and toes, I could feel them ache. The skin was red. My cheeks felt sunburnt, and my hair was unkempt.