Chapter 2

ELIZABETH

I drag myself up the three steps to the wrap around covered porch on my cabin. The wood steps creak under my heavy steps. Oscar zooms past me, wasting no time going through his dog door and into the warmth of the cabin. Pale firelight pours out of the windows flanking each side of the door. The wind funnels through the porch, stings my chilled cheeks. The sudden blast of cold spurs me to cross the last few agonizing steps.

Leaning heavily on the door, I fumble to turn the handle with my freezing fingers. I finally manage to turn the knob and collapse through the door. I land hard on the polished wood floor and try not to think about the bruises I've collected from my many falls tonight.

The funneled wind from the porch blows through the open door, makes the fire roar to life in the open door, makes the fire roar to life in the open fireplace, and a few sparks dance up the chimney. Already curled on his bed by the fire, Oscar contentedly licks the melting ice and snow from his fur. He looks up with a you're letting the cold in expression.

"Come on, babe, almost done. Shut the door," Dave says.

I stay on the floor but slam the door with my uncut foot. "Happy?" I gripe.

"I'm happy we're finally home," Nathan chirps and sit next to Oscar.

"You're such a baby, " Julia tells him. "Mom could have died, and you're too busy being afraid of dark."

"I'm not afraid," Nathan replies.

Julia shrugs and flops on the couch.

"Hot bath for you," Dave says, looking down at me on the floor.

"You're so bossy tonight. I don't like it," I grumble as I pull off my gloves and hat and toss them across the cabin.

"Whatever it takes," he smiles. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes melt my heart the way they have for years. "As long as you're safe."

I meet his hazel eyes and put all my love into mine."I'm safe now. Thank you," I say quietly so the kids can't hear.

"Don't do that again. "His tender voice holds a steel edge. "Don't ever do that again."

I look away, ashamed of how close I came to losing. If the last two years haven't done me in, how could I let a frozen pond finish me off? I busy myself with climbing off the floor instead of responding.

I call to the kids, "I'm going to take a hot bath."

The water steams invitingly as it fills the tub. Sitting on the toilet lid, I untie my running boots. The sole of the one flops open at the cut, ruined. I toss my favourite boots against the wall in anger, thinking of all the snowy miles it took to break them it. They'll need to be replaced now, and fast.

I peel my soaked socks off and add them to the pile against the wall. The sock is ruined too, cut through and stained with blood. I don't look at my foot, unwilling to see my skin opened by the sharp metal I stepped on.

When the pile includes my soaked pants and my mostly dry sweater, I turn off the water in the tub. The silence in the small bathroom is nearly deafening after the roar of the running water.

Steam obscures the tiny mirror above the sink. I wipe it away with my hand and consider my reflection. My blue eyes, nearly the same color as Oscar's, stare wide and frightened. "That was close," I whisper to myself. The mirror is purposely small, only reflectting a small part of me. A lift of my chin reveals the red, angry scar puckered across my throat. I finger it gently with a shaking hand. Lower on my chest, another scar, not visible in the mirror's minuscule reflection beckons. My Roman numeral carved there.

"Don't touch it," Dave suddenly commands.

I pull my hand away, guilty like a child sneaking candy.

I mean his eyes in the tiny reflection. "You and the kids don't have the marks?" I ask.

"We've already told you we don't." His voice so close to my ear, almost touching.

"You did," I whisper.

"We don't now," he soothes. "Don't go down this road, Elizabeth," he warns.

I push through him and climb into the tub. The heat of the water like fire against my still-cold skin.

I welcome the burn, and slide into the water, tipping my head back on the edge of the tub.

My injured foot stings. I raise it from the water, and fresh blood dribbles down my leg. Just a little blood, nothing serious, but it's enough.

"Don't look at the blood," Dave tried to help.

My mind betrays me, and the memory slips up.

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