Dane's Storm(67)

“I know. It’s just”—my breath hitched as I felt the sadness well in my throat—“I was his mother. I carried him inside of me. I felt every movement, every hiccup. I knew his personality just by the way he moved. I knew when he’d be awake and when he’d be sleeping. I knew him, Dane. And it makes me feel so lonely that no one else will hurt like me because no one else lost all that along with the promise of him.” Tears were falling from my eyes now, and I reached up and swiped them away, despair making my chest so full of pain, so tight with longing.

“But, sweetheart, that’s not a burden. That’s a gift. Truthfully, I’m jealous. You got a part of him I never will and I’m envious of that.”

His words gripped me, causing me to gasp out a tiny sob. I felt laid bare, and yet with his statement, a warm glow seemed to infuse my heart, beginning at the edges and moving inward until I sagged against him, stunned by the sudden realization. Yes, I had loved Theo in a way no one else had a chance to. In a way no one ever would. I’d always, always looked at that as such deep pain but . . . but yes, yes, it was also a gift, wasn’t it? No one would ever have that but me. And for all those months, Theo had me.

“Oh, Dane,” I whispered, turning, wrapping my arms around him and crying into his neck. “Thank you. Thank you for that.”

He hugged me back, and we clung to each other that morning, two lost souls, stranded on a dreary plain of ice, hungry, tired, weak, but together. Providing comfort when the other needed it most.

We slept on and off and whispered in the dim light of our shelter that morning and when I woke, Dane was gone, but the spot he’d vacated was still warm.

I sat up dazedly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, forcing myself from the shelter, though I wanted to stay there all day. I needed to pee and to drink some water. And I was going to force myself to eat a cattail stem or two. Maybe I’d venture into the woods to see if I could find some rosehips. They were winter plants. I could make tea with them that would probably be bitter but could provide some vitamins.

I stepped into the cover of the woods and squatted down to pee, my thoughts still foggy from sleep. How long could humans go without any food at all? Longer than without water, I knew that. God, I wished it wasn’t so evident just how little knowledge I actually had without Google to assist me. The thought amused me slightly and I felt one side of my lips tug into a smile.

A loud splintering groan seemed to scream through the mountains and I jolted, pulling my jeans up quickly and turning back toward camp. I’d only taken a few steps when I heard something that sounded like a bomb had gone off, halting where I stood, my mind racing with possible explanations. Avalanche? Another plane crash?

“Dane!” I screamed, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest, running toward the place the sound had come from, out of the woods and into the empty space at the top of the hill.

Panicked, I practically tripped when my feet hit the deeper snow outside the cover of trees, my head jerking to the left where Dane was climbing the hill, dragging something large behind him, his breath coming out in harsh pants of white vapor. I let out a choked sound of relief, moving toward him. He lifted his head when he spotted me, holding up his hands to indicate I should stay where I was.

Looking behind him, my heart lurched when I saw that the plane was . . . gone. Where it had once been, now there was only hard-packed icy snow, and a blackened trail that led straight over the cliff. The tree that had once held the plane in place was gone too. Oh God. I swallowed, horrified as my eyes tried to make sense of what had happened. I could see a round arcing mark in the snow where the plane must have turned before sliding down the hill and into the void.

My breath came out in fearful gasps. I needed to regulate my breathing. My galloping heart slowed slightly when I saw that Dane looked okay, the thing he was dragging behind him one of the airplane seats.

“What the hell happened?” I cried, wanting to beat at his chest in my terror. He stopped in front of me, dropping the heavy chair in the snow behind him, breathing harshly, his face flushed, small droplets of sweat clinging to his forehead and upper lip.

“I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Didn’t want to scare me?” I sputtered. “Well, you did. Were you on the plane when it started to slide?”

“Audra, I’m fine. Look”—he pointed behind him at the chair lying in the snow—“mission accomplished.”

I made a grunting sound of anger. “You went to get that stupid fucking chair off the plane while I was sleeping? You could have gotten yourself killed. And then”—I sucked in a huge breath of the sharp, frigid air—“then what would I have done? I wouldn’t have even been able to say goodbye. You’d just be . . . gone.”

“Hey, Audra, honey, I’m fine.” He moved closer, trying to put his arms around me but I pushed him away. He sighed, stepping back. “I know you’re upset, but I did this without telling you because I knew you’d be a wreck the entire time I was doing it, and I wanted to spare you that.”

“Spare me? You don’t get to decide to spare me. The way you spared me by not telling me your grandmother cut you out of the family business when we got married? We’re a team. We do things together. We decide things together. Or, or—”

“You’re right. I should have told you. We’re a team.”