Under the Northern Lights(28)

Michael broke the connection by stepping back so he could look at me. “I told you to stay in the cabin,” he scolded.

“I did!” To prove my point, I indicated my gun, still in the cabin where I’d dropped it. It wasn’t my fault the bear had tried to enter.

Michael pursed his lips. “You scared me half to death,” he said, his voice tight with an emotion that hadn’t been there the first time he’d saved my life.

“I did?” I whispered, a little mystified by how much things had changed in such a short amount of time. Did I matter to him now?

His eyes flitted over my face before shifting to the ground. “Of course,” he muttered. “I’m trying to keep you alive . . . to get you back to your family . . .”

For the first time ever, the thought of going home saddened me a little. Or maybe it was the look on Michael’s face. His fear had stemmed from more than just his desire to keep me living: I was sure of it. He liked having me around. He liked the comfort, the companionship, the help around the cabin. No matter how hard he tried to convince me—and himself—Michael didn’t really want to be alone. I was positive of that. And a part of me . . . liked being here too. I enjoyed spending time with Michael, and I enjoyed helping him. I liked how he made me feel—like we were equals, teammates . . . partners. I felt . . . free with him.

“Michael,” I said, my voice feeling weak. “I was worried about you too. I thought for sure when you stopped yelling that the bear had . . .” Swallowing, I couldn’t speak my dire assumption or my relief that it hadn’t been true. I felt like I was drowning in the feelings that were swelling between us.

Clearing his throat like he was suffering from his own emotional rollercoaster, Michael indicated the cabin. “Well, we’re both okay, so we should go back inside.” I nodded, and Michael sighed. “That bear might come back, though, so we’ll have to stay sharp until it hibernates.”

I really hated the thought of having to go through this night after night. Hopefully, we’d startled the bear enough that it would search for goods elsewhere; otherwise I might have an aneurism before winter hit.





Chapter Ten

The next several nights, I was a nervous wreck. I kept hearing things that weren’t there—crashing in the woods, growling in the night air. Whenever I went outside, I felt like I was being hunted; it was not a comforting feeling.

“You don’t need to be worried, Mallory; the bear won’t act out of spite or hatred. That’s just one of many reasons why animals are better than people.” He grinned at me after he said that, like his words were comforting, but the official start of winter was still a few weeks off, so we weren’t in the clear yet. Maybe seeing that I still wasn’t cheered by the news, Michael shrugged and added, “It will either make another attempt on the food, or it won’t. Stressing about it won’t solve anything.”

I knew he was right, and I knew we had a lot of work to do before winter struck full force, so I tried to push the fear from my mind and focus on the task at hand. “Okay, so remind me again what we’re doing way out here? Besides being potential bear bait, of course.”

He rolled his eyes at my comment, and I felt my worry lifting at seeing his humor. “We’re felling trees for firewood.”

Now I rolled my eyes. “I understand that, but why are we doing it way out here?” We’d walked at least a mile to get to this spot, and considering we didn’t have transportation, we’d have to walk the wood all the way back to camp. “Your place is surrounded by trees. Why not just chop up one of those?”

Michael stopped and stared at me with a contemplative expression. “That’s my yard,” he finally said. “I want it to look nice.”

My jaw dropped; then a laugh escaped me. “I can’t believe you’re worried about aesthetics when you don’t have any neighbors.”

He lifted his chin, his pale eyes defiant. “I have myself . . . and I have you.”

That made me pause. He has me?

A flush of color brightened Michael’s cheeks, and he immediately averted his eyes. “You know what I mean,” he muttered.

Something warm and pleasant flooded through me as I watched him walk over to a clump of trees and begin to inspect them. I might only be visiting Michael for a short time, but he was already claiming me. I loved that he was, but it filled me with a foreboding sense of sadness too. All of this was temporary. Then Michael would be alone again. And in a way, I would be too.

As Michael began to swing his ax into the far side of one of the trees, biting deep into the wood, I thought of all the things I did for him now that he would have to do himself once I was gone. “Have you ever thought of a chainsaw?” I asked him. “Or a snowmobile? Four-wheeler? Bobcat? Something to help make your life a little easier?”

He paused in his work to look over at me. “Of course. But I spent all my money getting out here. All that stuff is a luxury I can’t afford right now. It’s on my wish list, though.” Chuckling to himself, he began swinging at the tree again. It was going to take us a couple of days to get all the wood back to the cabin. Maybe longer. He should seriously consider making his wish list more than a wish. But if there wasn’t money, then there wasn’t money. There wasn’t much he could do about not having enough.