Frozen Heart by Annabelle Blume

Author:Annabelle Blume
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
Published: 2012-08-07T02:37:49+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

Fresh Air

I woke to a rush of cold air and the sound of long dragging scrapes. The boys’ playful sounds echoed outside of the cabin. I lay alone, wrapped in a heavy comforter, in Beckett’s bed with no memory of how I’d got there. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I searched the cabin for signs of his whereabouts. The sun shone brightly through the narrow windows and the embers of the previous night’s fire glowed in the hearth like red stars in a dark ashen sky.

Beckett’s voice seeped through the walls. He spoke to the boys as if he’d known them a lifetime. Still wrapped in the blanket, I grabbed his keycard and walked to the door with a train of green comforter trailing behind me. I opened it just enough to peek at the inconceivable scene that waited for me outside.

Beckett sliced deep into the snow with a shovel, scooping out a huge chunk and tossing it to the side. The wide flat blade cut into the impacted snow without resistance.

“You’ve made amazing progress. How long have you been out here?”

“Morning, sunshine.” He ignored my question, yelling over the constant scraping sound the shovel made against the hard ground.

I cupped my hands around my mouth and asked loudly, “Tea?”

“No, I’m good. I had some earlier.” He smiled and waved me off. “Go ahead and turn on the kettle. I’ll be done in a bit.”

My groggy brain didn’t find humor in his jovial demeanor. I slammed my hand against the access door button and made myself at home in his utilitarian kitchen. The very plain cabinetry and counters accompanied by the curious lack of design clashed with the heavily stylized decor of the living area. I realized he seemed to have little cooking knowledge, making the most basic meals when he had taken to the task of feeding us. I contemplated his discomfort with the kitchen while I waited for the kettle to heat.

Returning to the access door with my now-favorite green mug full of steaming tea, I opened it wide, letting the light stream in and fill the cabin. Beckett worked for a few minutes longer. The muscles in the backs of his arms flexed with each thrust of the shovel. He stopped from time to time to wipe at his brow and stretch his arms out at his sides. When he’d finished shoveling a long path through his property, Beckett disappeared into the shed. I called the boys back in and closed the access door, leaving him to whatever privacy he sought out in the cold.

An errant container of granola clusters found in the pantry made a decent breakfast. I drank my tea and had a lengthy one-sided conversation with the boys. Searching for purpose, I emptied the kettle, wiped down the counter, made the bed and adjusted the number on the digital screen of the thermostat. When his visit to the sanctuary dragged on for what seemed like an hour, I helped myself to a shower.

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