Then she went outside.
Dawson had bundled up, and she spotted him headed for the machine shed. He wore a pair of thick Carhartt coveralls, boots, a parka, the hood pulled up, and a face mask. Goggles sat on top of his head.
It felt like that moment before she went onstage, listening to the crowd cheer, knowing she was made for this.
River’s words edged in as Keely headed down the steps to the shed.“Trust God,and surrenderto him ... You not only get salvation,but you’llbe set free to discover yourself too. The person youwere made to be.”
She looked to the gunmetal-gray sky, to the sun peeking through.Help me trust you,God.
From the porch, Caspian barked, and she spotted Griffin holding the dog by the collar.Sorry,buddy.
Dawson started up the snowmobile and drove it out of the shed. He stopped and met her eyes. “You sure about this?”
“Not in the least.” She pulled her goggles down and settledbehind him, the seat creaking in the cold. Putting her hands around him, she leaned forward. “Drive, James.”
He laughed and pulled down his own goggles. “Hang on.”
She had no intention of letting go as they drove into the snowy, gray day.
He should have listenedto his gut yesterday when it told him to leave.
Dawson maneuvered the snowmobile through the path in the forest, keeping the throttle open enough for the machine to skim the surface of the snow. Slowing would only make him sink.
Let his failures find root.
Yeah, he’d given in to the pull of staying, of comfort and, aw, who was he kidding? The sooner he got Keely out of the bush and to an airport, the sooner she was on a plane and back to her life.
Her real life.
Not the fake what-if fantasy he’d conjured up for himself last night after her stupid song.
No, not a stupid song. The kind of song that kept aflame the terrible hope inside him.
He wanted her. Her smile, the way that she teased him and yet made him feel like he might actually be a hero. And it didn’t help that last night she’d kissed him as if she wanted the future she’d sung about too.
Even now, she held on to him, her legs tight against his, leaning into him as the snow chipped up around them and spotted his goggles. The wind whistled in his ears above the drone of the motor, but the sun had started to break through the cloud cover.
Landon might be right about the storm dying.
They’d spent the last twenty minutes cutting through the forest, after muscling their way through the meadow that had trapped him before. Now, they emerged out to a riverbed, frozen over.
“Hang on!” He slowed, motoring down the edge, into the gully.
“How do you know where to go?”
“There are markers in the trees.” He pointed to an orange utility ribbon tacked high to a birch tree. “Orange goes to Sully’s place. The red ones are ranger tags to the cache cabins.”
He revved the motor again and followed the iced creek south. The same creek that he’d found her in, maybe a mile or so north. The route cut them south a quarter mile, and then he motored them out of the wash when it turned east and kept moving south. She pointed to an orange ribbon, and he headed toward an opening in the forest.
The snowmobile coughed as they entered the thicket, and he slowed. Please, let him not have screwed up the spark plug replacement.
It coughed again, and the engine nearly died. He slowed more, the machine rumbling under him.C’mon—
A hundred feet into the forest, it coughed again and then sputtered out.
They slowed, then sank into the powder. He closed his eyes.
“That sounded fuel-related to me.” Keely got off. “Is it out of gas?”
