Quickly, I turned from side to side, wondering who I’d see, who was with me, and who took off my clothes.
The cabin where I found myself was rustic like my grandparents’ place but smaller.
“Hello?” I called.
The only answer came from the fire’s sounds and the wind beyond the cabin walls. Through the windows the night sky was still filled with falling snow. It wasn’t difficult to tell that I was alone. There was nowhere to hide in one room.
Faint memories of a man came to mind. Green eyes, an orange hat, and a deep voice.
With my feet bare yet warmed, I stood; the aftereffects of the cold sent pins and needles to the soles. Tentatively, I walked around, admiring the quaintness of the furnishings. In the warm firelight, I ran my hand over each piece. Most appeared handmade, a table and two chairs, a bed with a wooden head- and footboard, and a wooden sofa with long cushions.
Near the bed was a table with an old-fashioned pitcher and washbasin. Above the old china set was a cloudy oval mirror. The reflection in it wasn’t of the heir to Wade Pharmaceutical or the future Mrs. Butler.
My long blond hair was wavy from the snow and drying by the fire. Any makeup I’d applied was gone, yet Mother Nature had left her mark. My cheeks and lips were pink. I ran my tongue over the bottom lip and then the top, bringing a bit of moisture.
A quick check confirmed that my clothes were still too wet to be worn.
The kitchen area, separated by the small table, consisted of a sink with an old pump, the kind that needed priming, a counter, some shelves, cupboards, and a stove that also used wood as fuel to create heat. Upon the two metal burners were an old coffeepot and a pan filled with water.
I turned off the burner under the water as it was beginning to boil. Using a small towel, I held onto the coffeepot’s handle and lifted, pleased to find it heavy. Dark drops percolated within the glass top on the lid as the aroma of coffee joined the scent of the fire.
While coffee would be good, my empty stomach hoped for more. I opened a cupboard to find a few cans of soup. By the way it looked beyond the windows, sending for Uber Eats was out of the question. That thought led me to thoughts of my phone. I found it on the table near the bed, without any signal and with a very low battery.
There was nothing to suggest this cabin had electricity. Charging my phone or anything else was out of the question.
The cool cement floor beneath my feet was covered with an array of rugs of all sizes. The wood walls gave the feel of a real log cabin. The farther I moved away from the fireplace, the cooler the air became.
It was as I settled back on the thick blanket where I’d awakened and wrapped the quilt around me that the door to my side opened wide. A gust of cold wind filled with snow preceded the man from my memory. His arms were filled with logs. After giving me a quick glance, he kicked the door closed with his long leg. When he stood erect, he was tall, taller than me.
I obviously didn’t know this man or anything about him other than he’d saved my life and apparently disrobed me, yet without a word, my pulse increased and my cheeks felt flush.
His green eyes came my way before setting the logs in a round holder near the fireplace. Wiping his gloved hands one over the other, he dusted the snow, bark, and dirt to the floor. One by one, he pulled the gloves away from his long fingers, and still his gaze stayed glued on me.
I tugged on the quilt, suddenly reminded that this had been the man who removed my clothes. By looking at him, it was impossible to judge his age in the firelight. He wasn’t old or young and yet something about him held my attention.
The ends of his lips twitched, perhaps humored by my unease.
Unzipping the front of his brown coat, he shrugged it off, shaking the snow to the floor. Next, he removed his stocking cap, revealing a crown of messy dark hair. Finally breaking his stare, he turned to hang the coat and his stocking cap upon a peg near the door. The shirt under it was flannel and unbuttoned over a thermal shirt beneath.
Survival 101 came to mind with his layering.
Without glancing at my clothes, I knew I’d failed that test.
I worked my way to my feet and when he turned back, I spoke, “Thank you.”
He lifted his chin. “Not exactly a good night for a walk.” His gaze went to the window as white swirled in the darkness. “Of course, you’re welcome to leave if you want.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want that, not now.”
Nodding, the man walked to the stove and pulled two metal mugs from a shelf. Without asking, he filled both with hot coffee and brought one to me.
His lips curled into a smile as he scanned the quilt and handed me the mug. “I usually try to introduce myself before I take off a lady’s clothes.”
“Usually?”
He nodded. “Usually. As with any rule, there are exceptions.”
I placed the mug of coffee on the hearth and extended my hand. “Thank you for saving me. I’m Julia.”