Page 31 of Pieces Into Place

I shift my gaze to the right, and the panoramic view of the town’s sharp ledge hits me like a punch to the heart. The barrier railing feels too thin for comfort as the truck snakes around the ice slushy bend in the road.

Tiny street lamps twinkle in the darkness far below the mountain pass, making it look like a wintry wonderland from up here. I look to my right at the sharp ledge just over the barrier railing. It’s unnerving to be so close to falling over the edge. “That’s a big drop,” I say more to myself than him, since I know he’s barely paying attention to me.

“Christmas Valley,” Kane says, still looking ahead.

“What?” I ask, looking at his profile.

“That neighborhood down there is called Christmas Valley. Every street down there is named after something having to do with Christmas.”

My mouth drops open in amazed surprise. “Seriously? That’s amazing!” I exclaim.

“We’re staying out there. A little farther out, but not too far away,” he explains with an air of anticipation.

“This is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen!” I say in amazement.

“Calm down, Olivia,” he reprimands me sternly. “Remember, people are still trying to kill you.”

“Right,” I reply soberly. “I thought for a second that we were having some kind of dreamy lovers retreat,” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes in exasperation.

His knuckles turn white around the steering wheel as his grip tightens, and he flashes me a wry smile. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind either,” he replies. “I’m not particularly looking forward to being stuck down there with you. You might actually steal my soul like a short, scrappy succubus while I sleep.”

“You’d have to have a soul for me to steal, Silly,” I tease him and playfully punch his arm. His lips twitch at the corners as if he wants to smile but won’t let himself.

Once we descend the summit, we slow down to turn right into the Christmas Valley area. I read the name of every street we pass, getting more and more giddy with each street, despite my dire situation. First Blitzen Road, then Santa Claus Drive. I’m about to jump out of my seat.

“This neighborhood is so cool,” I tell him. It’s secluded and picturesque out here, nestled between the mountains and tall pine trees, thick with fluffy snow. I feel like I’m about to see a Hallmark movie being filmed at any moment.

The homes range from small cabins to large lots with enormous family homes. Snow-flocked trees glisten along both sides of the road. I roll down the window slightly to smell the fresh mountain air, which reminds me of popcorn and roasted chestnuts on a warm winter evening.

After several minutes, Kane pulls up to a smaller A-frame cabin set back amongst the woods. We park alongside the house, and he shuts off the engine. “This is it,” he says, looking outside. Then, turning to me, he says, “Stay in the car while I look around.” He grabs his gun from the console and disappears.

I wait for a few minutes, the cold beginning to penetrate the inside of the truck since he turned the engine off, before he reappears at my door, opening it and offering me his hand. “Everything looks good. Be careful,” he says, reminding me of the fact that I’m wearing slippers and there’s snow and ice on the ground.

I tentatively take his hand and find myself losing footing as soon as my slippers touch the snow. “Sorry,” I tell him, as I hold on tighter. “They aren’t called slippers for nothing.”

Kane lets out a reluctant chuckle and sweeps me up in his arms as if I weigh nothing. His strong muscles tense under where my hands are placed on his shoulders and he strides into the cabin. The front door opens and then he kicks it shut behind him with me still in his arms. Finally, he gently sets me on my feet at the entryway.

My eyes scan over the small cabin. It’s cold in here, and a shiver runs through me as I pause by the front door, taking it all in. The living room is cozy and quaint with a stone-faced fireplace that cuts off about three feet above the mantle before a flatscreen television sits on top of it. To the right of the living room is the bathroom, and I can make out a shower and a small bathtub from here.

Kane returns a minute later with the bags as I continue surveying my surroundings. The cold air has me wrapping my arms around myself in response. “I checked the pipes and they aren’t frozen,” Kane says from behind me. “Feel free to take a hot shower or bath.”

“That sounds nice,” I tell him. “Can I look upstairs?”

“Be my guest,” he replies. “That’s where you will be sleeping.”

I wander upstairs to explore the open loft. There’s a comfy looking chair and queen-sized bed pushed against the back wall, soft quilts folded neatly at the foot. An armoire sits to the right.

Opening it up I find some blankets and linens. I’m surprised it doesn’t smell stuffy or like mildew in the cabin. With the amount of snow they seem to get, I’d expect some sign of wear and tear. Instead, it smells like cinnamon and fresh laundry detergent. I wonder who owns this place. Whoever it is keeps it up and obviously had it cleaned recently. I wonder briefly if Kane anticipated having to come here.

Sighing, I go downstairs and grab the bag, pulling out the blanket I used in the car. It’s mine now. I’m not sure if Kane knows that or not.

“I have to go get a few things. We’re expecting some pretty heavy snow over the next few days. The cabinets are bare and you need some new clothes,” he says. “Will you be OK while I’m gone?”

“Yep,” I reply. “I’ve managed to live this long,” I tell him.

“It’s probably that right hook,” he jokes and we both chuckle, somewhat uncomfortably. That incident is still relatively fresh, but I’m glad we can attempt to make fun of it.

After he leaves, I settle onto the couch. There’s a bit of firewood in a basket by the fireplace and I consider trying to make a fire, but Kane said he would be back soon and I don’t want to push this temporary truce we’ve managed. I don’t know if the flue is open and the last thing we need is for me to burn down this cabin, so, I go back into the kitchen and start searching for something to eat.