Blind Fury (15 page)

“Right.” She smiled up at him, but couldn't stop the knot of pressure building in her chest. She had this nagging feeling that something was wrong, and nothing seemed to shake it. Not even prayer.

Colin gave her another squeeze, then stepped out of the barn, leading the way back along the same path.

“Oh. Wait.” She stopped and called to Colin, who was a few paces in front of her. “All the equipment and supplies for the survival demonstration are still in the barn. Shouldn't we get them put away?”

Colin turned around. “Right now that barn looks like it's a hundred miles in the wrong direction. Besides, I'm sure the demonstration isn't canceled, just postponed. They'll probably reschedule for next Monday.”

She nodded. “I hope so.”

Back at the house Anne greeted them with hot soup and pan-fried corn bread.

“The phone still doesn't work,” Ryan grumbled. “The TV neither, so I can't even watch John Wayne.”

Kara felt sorry for him. She'd be restless too, cooped up all day with nothing to do. It was too bad he couldn't go out and play in the snow, but with him just getting over bronchitis, outside wasn't an option.

He looked so forlorn, Colin gave in and offered to play Chinese checkers.

A few minutes later, Kara excused herself from the table and went to try the radio again. After ten minutes she gave up and was about to leave the room, when the radio crackled to life.

“Wakara! Are you there? Like, can you believe this? They're saying there's another storm behind this one, and we're never going to get the electricity back. I can't use the computer at all, and my report is due next Tuesday! Wakara?”

Kara rolled her eyes. “Let go of the button, Tia,” she said out loud, “then I can talk to you.”

“What? I didn't get what you said!”

She tried again. “Hang in there, Tia. Let's try again. Over.”

“Did you read me the first time? Over.”

“Yes. I'm sorry about the electricity, but there's nothing we can do about it. It will take them days to get this cleared up. Over.”

Tia moaned. “Days? I can't go days without a phone line. Like, what about all my e-mail?”

“Well, if it's any consolation, they'll probably get to you before they get to the lines out here.”

“Yeah. You're right.” Tia paused, and Kara could hear her talking to someone in the background. Then she said, “Pops wants to know if your dad made it home.”

Wakara's stomach suddenly felt queasy. “No. And the radio's out up there. I can't get through at all.”

“I hope they're okay. I mean, like, not trapped in an avalanche or something. If I were you, I'd get the Search-and-Rescue to check it out.” There was more talking in the background, then Tia sighed. “Okay, okay. Wakara? Pops says I gotta get off in case there's an emergency or something. I hope they're wrong about that other storm. I'll talk to you soon. Bye.”

The receiver went dead, and Kara had to fight back tears. An avalanche! She couldn't believe some of the things Tia came up with. But what if it were true? The mountainsides had just been ravished by fire. The slopes could be really unstable. Anything could happen.

In the family room, she found Ryan curled up like a kitten with his head on Colin's lap and Colin sitting with his head thrown back against the sofa cushions, both of
them fast asleep. For a moment, she studied Colin's face. With long, blond lashes that curled upward, a smooth, unlined forehead, and cheeks flushed from the heat of the woodstove, he looked like a little boy. She quickly turned away. No way did she want Colin to wake up and find her staring at him.

Anne sat at the kitchen table reading a magazine and sipping a cup of tea. She looked up as Wakara walked through the door. “The boys are asleep?”

Kara nodded. “Yeah. I wish I could fall asleep that easily.” Anne's stare made her nervous. “You worked hard today. Sometimes the mind will not let the body sleep.”

The woman was right on, as always.

“I just can't stop thinking about Dad and Greg,” Kara admitted. “I just know something's wrong.”

Instead of trying to encourage her as she normally would, Anne looked down as if studying the contents of her teacup. “If there is trouble,” she finally said, “God knows about it.”

Wakara's hands shook as she poured a cup of tea and carried it carefully to the table. She felt like she was going to burst into tears any minute. “Sure, but there's supposed to be another storm. If they don't get out now, they might be stuck there for the winter.”

“If God is able to guide children through fire, can He not lead men through snow?”

Anne's gentle reminder should have made her feel better. Instead, she felt a flicker of doubt. She sipped the hot liquid, hoping it would ease the lump in her throat. “I know God's watching over them, but . . .” She stopped, trying to find the right words for what she was thinking. Anne didn't interrupt, just sat quietly watching, her eyes full of understanding.

Kara took a deep breath. “It's like God sees and He's with us and everything, but sometimes He lets bad things happen anyway.” She sniffed back a tear, and Anne handed her a napkin.

“Thanks.” She dabbed her eyes and blew her nose, but once they started, the tears wouldn't stop. Neither would the words. “I mean, Mom loved God. She prayed all the time. Every morning when I was leaving for school, she'd be sitting in the family room with her Bible and notebook, doing some kind of study.

“She used to tell me that God is our Father and loves His children more that any human parent ever could. I liked that.” She tried to smile, but could feel her lips tremble and was afraid she would burst into tears again. Anne smiled gently in agreement, and Kara rushed on. “I believed it too. Thinking of God as my Father made me feel safe. Until the accident.”

Her mouth felt like cotton, and she took another swallow of tea. “It's just that sometimes I wonder, if God loved Mom so much, why did He let her die?”

Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it could leap out of her chest. It was like someone else was saying the words she had buried deep inside and wouldn't stop until she was empty—like an hourglass turned upside down.

“I'm God's child. So is Dad. And so is Greg; he became a Christian before I did. But God still took Mom away from us.” She saw the tears running in rivulets down Anne's cheeks, but she couldn't stop.

“Ryan was only five years old! If God is so loving, how can He kill a little boy's mother?” She had to bite her lip to keep from shouting, and she didn't dare pick up her teacup or she would throw it at the wall.

“I can't trust Him anymore, Anne. Mom died. How can I be sure nothing will happen to Dad and Greg?”

Anne didn't bother to wipe her own tears away, but looked deeply into Wakara's blurry eyes. “You can't.”

She said it so softly, Kara wasn't sure of what she'd heard. “What?”

“‘In this world, you will have trouble, but fear not, I have overcome the world.' Jesus said that, Wakara. Do you understand?”

Kara shook her head. “No. I've heard that verse before, but I never really got it.”

Anne closed her eyes, and when she spoke again, Kara wasn't sure if she was praying or talking to her.

“If a man walks on glass he will bleed. If I touch fire, I will get burned. If a lion does not kill, it suffers hunger, and a camel tethered by a dry well will die. Such are the troubles of the world.”

“Well, yeah,” Kara frowned. “But no one does those things on purpose, and most of us don't go around worrying about it.”

Anne nodded. “Accidents happen. A lion grows too old to kill. Drought steals the water of life. Why then do we not live in constant fear?”

She didn't even have to think about that one. “Because we know it happens, but we hope it won't happen to us.”

Even as she said it, she began to understand where Anne was going with this. Her heart rate slowed, and everything inside her went still. “Hope,” she whispered, then looked up into Anne's gentle smile. “That's the key word, isn't it?”

“Where do you place your hope, Wakara?”

“In Jesus. At least that's where I'm supposed to.”

“Why?”

“Because when Jesus died and rose again, He gave me a chance to live with God forever when I die.” She wiped her eyes and felt a rush of understanding. “When Jesus said, ‘I have overcome the world,' He meant He had overcome trouble and death on earth by giving us a way to live forever in heaven. Like Mom.”

Anne leaned over, took Wakara's face between her hands, and gently kissed her brow.

T
HE
SECOND
STORM
MOVED
IN
at 10
P
.
M
. Even Anne admitted the men might be in danger. She and Colin agreed that Wakara should give up trying to reach Dad on the radio and contact Sheriff Lassen instead.

The sheriff sounded tired but sympathetic. “I'm sorry, Missy, but there's no way I can get Search-and-Rescue in there under these conditions. Visibility is a big fat zero, and it doesn't look like it's gonna let up anytime soon.”

He went on about cars stranded on the Interstate and broken-down snowplows, then tried to reassure her. “Those radios aren't all that reliable. Your daddy's is probably on the blink.” He chuckled. “Harley's got food, shelter, and the biggest fireplace in the state. You can bet those loafers are holed up in the lodge, drinking coffee and robbing each other blind with a deck of cards.”

“He's right, you know,” Colin agreed. “They're probably fine.”

When Kara glared at him, he took her by the shoulders. “Look, this storm can't last forever. If we don't hear from
them by the weekend, I'll saddle Dakota and ride in there myself, okay?”

The weekend
! Kara fumed. Colin was as bad as the sheriff; they both treated her as if she didn't have a brain.

She twisted away from Colin's grip and headed for the stairs. “I'm going to bed. When the storm clears, I'm going to Eagle Lodge, with or without help.”

Anne laid a hand on her shoulder. “Try to sleep, Wakara. And remember, daylight is wiser than dark.”

In other words, don't make any rash decisions tonight
. She was getting better at deciphering Anne's little sayings. She forced a smile. “Thanks, Anne, for everything.” She knew the woman would understand that she meant their talk in the kitchen as well as her wise advice.

Her room was freezing! She left the door open a crack and turned on the butane heater. She took off her slippers, but left on her wool socks and thermal underwear, then crawled into bed and pulled the covers up over her chin.

“Take care of them, Lord,” she whispered into the darkness. Still, she couldn't quite extinguish the flicker of fear that leapt in her stomach when she thought about Dad and Greg trapped in those isolated mountains. Even if they were in the lodge, they could run out of food or firewood, and what about the horses? The men had taken hay and grain, but would it be enough? She tossed and turned, trying desperately to make her mind blank so she could go to sleep. Finally, she resorted to a trick she had used as a child and began reciting silly nursery rhymes in her head.

It must have worked. When she awoke, her glow-in-the-dark watch read 2
A.M.
She could make out the shape of her dresser, the computer desk, even the pile of books stacked on the floor in the far corner of the room.

Moonlight on snow! She felt a stab of pure joy when she realized the reason for the light.

She sat up in bed, turned around, and looked out the window. It had been so dark in the room when she had gone to bed that she had forgotten to pull down the shade.

A full moon floated in the coal black sky, reflecting a cold, white light off the blanket of snow. The wind had stopped, but tree limbs bowed low to the ground. She heard a loud crack as a tree branch snapped and landed with a soft plop, sinking deep into the soft, white powder.

“Awesome!” she whispered, then felt a sharp kick of fear. The feeling built until she turned around and jumped out of bed.

Something's wrong, isn't it, God? Dad and Greg need help. I know it
!

A hundred thoughts crowded her brain. It had stopped snowing, but the tree branch had sunk, so the ground wasn't frozen solid. The full moon gave off plenty of light. Their supplies for the survival training class were still in the barn. Lily had traveled in snow before—all the horses had. Maybe she could get through.

“Not maybe!” she whispered, clenching her fists in determination. “I
will
get through.”
Hold on Dad, I'm coming
.

She took off her sweatshirt, put on a long-sleeved T-shirt and black leggings over her thermal underwear, and then pulled the sweatshirt back over her head. Thank God her ski pants still fit.