Mail-Order Millionaire (24 page)

Miranda declined politely, picturing four people in a three-man tent and realizing just how cozy it would be. Later, from the window at the kitchen above the sink, she watched them pound the stakes into the earth to hold the tent in place. The temperature was falling even as their spirits rose. The boys came racing in to get their sleeping bags from their closets. It was only seven o’clock, but they told her they had to go to bed.

An hour after that Miranda went outside in her parka with a flashlight in her hand. She unzipped the flap and looked inside. Max was in the middle, his arms folded under his head, his blond-brown hair standing on end. The boys flanked him on either side, blinking up owlishly at her.

“We’re telling ghost stories,” Scott informed her.

“I hope you won’t have nightmares,” she said.

Max raised up on one elbow and grinned at her. “If we do we’ll come and get into bed with you.”

She raised her eyebrows in alarm. “All three of you?”

“Only those who are really scared.”

Instead of answering she zipped the flaps shut.

“Aunt Miranda,” Brian called. She unzipped the flaps again. “There’s room for you in here.” He squeezed to one side, leaving a six-inch gap between Max and himself.

Miranda smiled at him. “Thanks, but I think it’s too cold out here for me.”

Max patted the space firmly with the palm of his hand. “I think I can keep you warm,” he said, his mouth curving up into an inviting smile.

Miranda pictured herself squeezed between them, her body pressed against Max, his arm around her, the heat from his body infusing hers with heated desire. For a moment she hesitated, torn between the hard ground, his hard body and good sense. Then she shook her head firmly and went back to the house. She prowled around aimlessly, closing the curtains, toning down the heat, fighting the urge to go out and check on them again. Knowing she wanted to see Max again, knowing she was hooked on his smile and his low-key sense of humor.

Finally she took a shower in the master bedroom, got into her sister’s bed, propped herself on a mound of ruffled pillows and turned on the late-night local news. Three teenagers were accused of stealing from the town dump. A Lake Waukasha councilman resigned in an income tax scandal. And there was a late bulletin from the Mount Henry State Park. Two hikers were lost in a sudden snowstorm in the area below the weather station. The forest service had been called in, but snow and sleet were hampering the rescue efforts.

Miranda jumped out of bed and threw on her sister’s quilted robe. Snow on Mount Henry when it was almost spring here? She ran to the backyard and opened the flaps again.

“Max,” she whispered.

He sat up straight, instantly awake. “What’s up?”

“I just heard on the news. Some hikers are lost on Mount Henry.”

He got out of his sleeping bag and jackknifed onto his knees. Crawling out of the tent, he straightened and put his hands on her shoulders. He looked into her eyes, a deep frown on his face. “What happened?”

“There was a sudden snowstorm. They’ve called in the park rangers, but the visibility is terrible.”

“I’ll bet they’re not dressed for the weather. That’s the way it happens, especially in the spring. I’ll have to get back there and help. I know the mountain better than the rangers.”

Miranda shivered, thinking of the hikers lost on the mountain, knowing how fast the weather could change. She walked into the house with him and helped him carry his bag and his boots to the car. She wished he didn’t have to go, now, in the middle of the night, but she knew he would, whether it was expected of him or not. Just as he’d helped her bottle syrup. It wasn’t his job, but he did it anyway.

That’s the way he was and that was the thing she loved about him. Not the only thing, she realized. Just one of many things.

He rolled down his window and she leaned over to say goodbye. “Tell the boys I’m sorry,” he said. “You’d better wake them and bring them in.”

She nodded. “Is there any danger you’d get lost, too, I mean, if it’s that bad?”

He took her fingers in his and rubbed them between his palms to warm them. “Not a chance,” he assured her. “I know where to look. I’ve been up and down those trails a dozen times. We’ve never lost a hiker yet, or a weatherman.” He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “I’ll be in touch.”

She stood in the driveway watching his taillights disappear down the slick streets and then there was silence. Her teeth chattering, she hugged her arms to her body and hurried to the backyard, unzipped the flaps and looked down at the boys, their eyes closed tightly in sleep. They were breathing evenly, unaware that their leader—their hero—had gone off to be a real hero.

Miranda ducked down and entered the tent, crawling into Max’s sleeping bag between the boys, just where he’d left it. She zipped the flaps shut. The warmth of his body still clung to the lining of the sleeping bag. She breathed deeply. The smell of his clothes and the all-male scent of his body lingered. She snuggled deeper into the sleeping bag, wishing he were there with her.

The only sound was the deep steady breathing of her nephews. The dim light from the sky glowed through the blue nylon of the tent, casting a pale glow on their faces. Where was Max? On the turnpike? Halfway across the state by now? She knew what he must be thinking about. His thoughts were with the lost hikers, tracing their steps down the mountain in his mind.

If she were lost there was no one she’d rather have out looking for her than Max. She lay awake for a long time, remembering the touch of his lips against her fingers and the sound of his voice. It was time to face the fact that she loved him, she told herself as night turned into morning. Because if she didn’t, she couldn’t get over him. And she had to get over him because he didn’t love her. Not enough, anyway.

Max drove as fast as he dared, down silent roads in the dark night. It was cold but there was no snow, not until he got to the highway that led to the town of Mount Henry. Then it covered the pavement with a blanket of white and drifted on the shoulders of the road. He knew what had happened. He listened to a report on his car radio and pieced the rest of it together with his knowledge of the weather and the terrain.

It must have been a sunny spring morning. Two hikers in shorts and shirtsleeves parked at the foot of the mountain with plans to hike to the top, then suddenly, halfway up, the temperature dropped. The barometer fell and out of nowhere snow flurries appeared. The hikers had probably started down and the flurries had turned into a full-fledged storm. Six inches of snow in an hour, covering the trails, blotting out the landmarks.

They must have lost the trail. Wearing ordinary hiking shoes, they’d slip and slide. Then it turned dark and although the snow had stopped, they wouldn’t be able to see their hands in front of them. Yes, he knew the scenario. At the station at the foot of the mountain, Max stopped to talk to the rangers and to a radio reporter who added some details to the story. They’d covered the south slope and were trying to decide what to do next. Max said he’d drive up the road as far as he could, park and take off into the woods to the east. He had a flashlight and his all-weather boots.

He didn’t get any farther than a half mile up the mountain before he felt his tires slipping. He stopped right there in the road and left the car. He tightened the bindings on his boots and thanked God and Miranda Morrison for the reinforced rubber soles. If it hadn’t been for Miranda he wouldn’t have these high-top, waterproof boots. If it weren’t for Miranda he wouldn’t know about long underwear or real maple syrup or chicken and dumplings on a raw winter night. And that wasn’t all he’d learned from her.

He’d learned to love again. Yes, he loved her, loved her so much he wanted the best for her, and that wasn’t him. Outside in the elements he felt nothing, only the cold wind in his face and the snow underfoot as he tramped across the slope of the mountain, making switchbacks in the snow on his way to the trail. He welcomed the cold and the wind and the challenge of the mountain. Without them he might start feeling again, feeling the loss and the pain.

He knew exactly where the trail was, even without using the beam from his flashlight, but somehow he was wrong— the trail wasn’t where it was supposed to be. Another half hour of wasted time while the hikers could be suffering from hypothermia, unprepared for a night of freezing temperatures. He had to find them soon before frostbite set in.

When he finally stumbled across the snowy trail it was easier going than walking overland, because when he found the trail he also found their footprints. He yelled, he called their names, but the darkness swallowed up his voice. He was running down the trail, slipping, sliding and yelling again, until he finally heard an answer, faint, so faint he wasn’t sure it was real. Then he saw them, huddled under a low fir, a man and a woman. He pulled them up from the ground and peeled off his jacket and then his sweater to give to them. Back along the trail they followed close behind him, hands linked together. Then they plowed their way over tangled branches and snow-covered bushes to his car.

They laughed and cried, almost hysterical with relief. They’d thought no one would ever find them and they’d freeze to death before morning. He backed down to the turnaround and drove to the ranger station. There the rescue squad radioed to the other searchers and gave the couple emergency first aid.

Max declined the coffee they offered him. The reporter from the radio station interviewed him and he was able to slip in some background information on the mountain and its unique weather patterns while he played down his own part in the rescue. He took his jacket and sweater and went out to his car.

Daylight was breaking over the mountain, turning the new snow to pale pink and orange. He sat in his car for a long time, not feeling the cold that crept in and permeated the leather seat cushions. He wished he could drive back to Vermont and get back into that sleeping bag and take up where he left off. But if he went back now to the warmth of a sleeping bag and the one woman who could make his life complete, he’d be perpetuating a dream. A dream that he and Miranda could have a life, somehow, somewhere. And that just wasn’t true. She knew it and so did he.

Some people thought he had a half-time job, but it was a full-time commitment. One that he took seriously. Wives wanted their husbands to be committed to them and he didn’t blame them. That was what Miranda deserved. Someone who’d be there when she needed him, to feed the horses, collect the sap or take care of her when she was sick.

As Fred said, “It’s different now.” Babies, diapers and kids growing up. He’d want to be there. He couldn’t stand not to. He also couldn’t stand to think of someone else playing that role in her life. He drove to his apartment a few miles away and called Ariel’s house, but no one answered. He was almost relieved. He didn’t want to say goodbye. Not again.

He fell asleep with his clothes on, dreaming of kids being lost in the snow, his kids. When he woke up it was mid-morning and he called again. This time Ariel answered, full of questions and concern. They’d seen the report on TV last night at their hotel and had heard him on the car radio that morning. They were so proud of him and so relieved that everyone was okay.

He asked to speak to Miranda. “She’s not here, she went home. She said she had a lot to catch up on.” There was a long pause. “She said to say thanks for everything. Whatever happened this weekend, I don’t know, but the boys had a great time. I’m sorry you got stuck with than.”

“We had a lot of fun. They’re great kids.”

“Rob wants to apologize for the mix-up about the hunting trip.”

“No problem.”

“Miranda thinks this was another one of my schemes, but it wasn’t, honestly.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m worried about Miranda. When we got here this morning she was all packed up to leave. She heard you on the radio so she knew you rescued the hikers. Then she took off just like that.”

“I’ll call her,” he said.

“I’ve been calling her, but she doesn’t answer.”

“Maybe she’s outside.”