Chapter Five – Chrysi

Chrysi watched Nevis build the fire through half-closed eyes. Sleep refused to let her go completely, and she lay dozing in relative contentment. She was comfortable, and warm, but she was also starving. Her belly rumbled at the thought of food.

With a sigh, she opened her eyes, and accepted the day. If it was day. The light filtering into the cabin was muted, leaving the room in shadow, except for the small semicircle of light cast out by the flames that licked cheerfully at the logs Nevis had placed on the embers he had coaxed back to life.

“Can I make coffee?” Chrysi asked. “I mean, can I make you some coffee?”

“Sure. The kettle is on the stove; it should be nearly boiled. I only have instant coffee.”

“Instant is fine. Anything to help wake me up.” She stretched, as if to prove a point.

“You slept well,” Nevis said.

“I did. Too well.” Chrysi stood up and walked on stiff legs toward the door, which she assumed led to the kitchen. And the bathroom.

“Down the hall and to the left,” Nevis said, as if reading her mind. He turned and looked at her. “I have never met a woman who does not need the bathroom first thing in the morning.”

“Have you met many women first thing in the morning?” Chrysi asked, and then winced. “Sorry, that came out all wrong. My brain really does need that coffee.”

The sound of him chuckling followed her to the bathroom. If you could call it a bathroom. Everything was rudimentary, just as it should be in a cabin. “The barest necessities,” she murmured as she used the compost toilet, and washed her face in the ice-cold water that spurted from the tap.

Drying her face, she peered at herself in the mirror. She looked like a hobo who had given up brushing her hair. Dragging her fingers through the shoulder-length locks, she did her best to make herself halfway to presentable, but she reckoned she only made it to about a quarter. Oh well. She made her way back out of the bathroom, the cold in this part of the cabin beginning to bite, and she was thankful for the relative warmth of the kitchen, with its small stove and boiling kettle.

Rummaging around, she found the coffee and two mugs, and then stirred in milk, which Chrysi found in a cool room lined with smooth stone. Taking the coffee back into the sitting room, she found Nevis seated on the sofa and passed him a cup.

“Were you making fun of me when you said a movie star owned this place?” she asked.

“Nope.” He sipped the hot coffee and then let out a contented breath as he watched the flames dance in the grate. “Carter wanted to escape his life, so he came here.”

“Is he dead?” Chrysi asked.

“No, he returned to civilization.”

“Did he decide he needed civilization after all?” Chrysi asked, sipping her coffee and nearly burning her tongue. “How do you drink it so hot?”

“I’m a hot-blooded male,” Nevis joked. “And to answer your first question—Carter met the woman of his dreams.”

“On the side of a mountain?” Chrysi was wondering if Nevis was a good storyteller; this was beginning to sound like one of her dad’s tales.

“She hiked up from Bear Creek to ask him about some land he owned. And when she left, he couldn’t bear to be parted from her.”

“And followed her back down.” Chrysi pressed her lips together and frowned before asking, “Are you making fun of me?”

“No.” He looked serious. “I’d never do that. It’s all true, and when we get back to Bear Creek I’ll introduce you to Carter. He and his wife have a baby now. He’s kind of retired from movies although he was persuaded to make a Space Monkeys sequel a few months back.”

“Space Monkeys, I’ve heard of that.” She looked up to the left as she recalled something she’d seen on TV. “Beer. They were in an commercial for Bear Creek Honey Beer.”

Nevis laughed. “I like that you’ve heard about the beer, but not the movie.” He raised his cup. “That beer was invented right here in this cabin.”

“Wow.” Chrysi nodded. “I don’t care if you are making it all up or not, you tell a good story.”

“It’s true,” Nevis insisted, and got up from the floor and sat on the sofa. “In fact, there is some of the original recipe beer here. Carter comes up here every now and then to get away from it all. Well, not his family, he brings them too.”

“So these clothes belong to Mrs. Carter Eden?”

“They do. Although I would not let Caroline hear you call her Mrs. Carter Eden.”

“She sounds like a woman after my own heart,” Chrysi told him.

“I think you would have a lot in common with her.” Nevis drank the rest of his coffee and then got up. “Breakfast is what we need.”

“Do you want a hand?” Chrysi asked. “Sitting around drinking coffee is not really my thing.”

Nevis pointed toward the window. “You may have to get used to it for a while. The snow is still falling. We are stuck in here for the next day or two.”

Chrysi tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m worried about what my dad will think. And what he might do.”

“No one is going to come onto the mountain in this weather.” Nevis came and sat back down next to her. “No amount of money will make anyone fly up here in this weather. And there is no way they would walk up the mountain either. As for the ransom, it’s only money.”

“What about the stress of thinking I am in danger?” Chrysi asked.

“How well does your dad know you?” Nevis asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I have only known you a few hours, and I already am pretty sure you can get yourself out of most scrapes.” He put his hand on hers and squeezed it, wanting to comfort her. “I’m sure he knows you will do whatever it takes to survive.”

“Damn them,” she swore under her breath. “When the snow stops, I am going to march right up that mountain and get their phone.”

“I’ll come with you,” he promised, and stood up again. “But not yet. Tomorrow.”

“Do you think the snow will have cleared by then?” Chrysi asked, getting up too.

“If the storm follows the pattern they forecast, the snow should stop overnight, but then it will freeze. Tomorrow, if we are lucky, and get an early start, we should be able to get a good way down the mountain. There are snowshoes we can use, and I have a small tent. We should be OK on the mountain for one night.”

“I got lucky when I found you,” Chrysi stated.

He chuckled. “I’m certain I did the finding.”

“No way.” She grinned as he turned to look at her. “Although we probably have the bear to thank.”

“The bear?” he asked.

“Yes, there was one out on the mountain.” Chrysi walked to the window and looked out at the falling snow. Nevis was right, there was no way they could go anywhere in that weather. “He saved my life.”

“A bear saved your life.”

“Yes, he pounced on Bart, and pinned him down, giving me time to run away. I hope he is somewhere warm and dry.” Chrysi turned her head to look at him, but Nevis dodged her. She was reminded of other things Harlan had told her. “This weather is no good for man or beast.”

“Very true,” Nevis agreed. “OK, we need to eat.”

Nevis left the sitting room and went into the kitchen, and began to pull out pans and utensils. Chrysi joined him, doing what she could to help. There was not much in the way of fresh food, but Nevis had eggs and some bacon that he cooked up, while Chrysi sliced thick pieces of bread he had baked yesterday.

“I’m impressed,” Chrysi told him.

“What better way to spend a snowy day,” Nevis said, passing her a plate.

“I am going to have to agree.” Chrysi took the plate from him. “Thank you.”

“We could be all formal and sit at the table, but I think we could make an exception and sit by the fire.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Chrysi asked.

“No, why would you think that?” He skirted the table, his body brushing against hers. A jolt of longing shot through her.

“Because of who my dad is?” Her face flushed, she sounded like the very person she had strived not to be—a rich stuck-up girl.

“Let’s sit by the fire.” He hid his expression as they moved from the kitchen to the sitting room, which was warm and comfortable and beckoned her like her father’s arms.

“I’m sorry. I was being oversensitive.”

He took a bite of his sandwich and she did the same, the bacon salty on her tongue, the egg, perfectly cooked, bursting in her mouth. “Good?”

She nodded, taking another bite. “Very good.”

They ate, and Nevis stared at the fire as he chewed, as if hypnotized. Chrysi thought the conversation was closed until he finished eating, took a long draw of his coffee, and then said, “What if I told you I understood completely?”

“Understood completely?” Chrysi frowned, not sure what he meant.

“What do you see when you look at me?”

“Oh, that sounds like the kind of question that is going to land me in trouble.” Chrysi concentrated on her sandwich, which was nearly all gone.

“There is nothing you can say to me that I either haven’t already heard, probably from my father. Or that I will take offense at.”

Chrysi sat back and studied him. “I see a man who likes his own company. A man who might be running away from something.”

“Really?” He nodded. “Running away. I think of it as avoiding a situation. But you might be right. I came up here to think things over.”

“What things?” She wanted to ask if he had woman trouble, in the same way she had man trouble. Is that what he meant by being able to understand her completely? Had he been betrayed too?

“My father wants me to take over his business. A business he has built from nothing. But it’s not me. I’m an adventurer at heart.”

“Wasn’t your dad an adventurer too?” Chrysi asked.

Nevis turned to look at her sharply. “You don’t know my father.” His words were a complex mixture of accusation and question.

“No, I don’t. But my dad has taught me a lot about reading people.”

“And you can read me?” Nevis asked, the humor returning to his eyes.

“A little. About the relationship you have with your father, at least.”

“So tell me about my father.” His voice was defensive. Nevis probably had a complex relationship with his father. Yet to her, it was obvious where their issues lay. But would the truth hurt him?