Chapter Four
ELIZA
I waketo the sound of the wind still blowing outside, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings. The events of last night come rushing back as I sit up in the bed. Matt's cabin. The collapsed roof. The destruction of the lodge. My heart races as I remember how close we came to disaster.
Taking a deep breath, I assess how I feel. My body aches from the fall and our mad dash through the storm, muscles protesting as I stretch. But the physical discomfort pales in comparison to the urgency of our situation. We need to check on the lodge, assess the damage, and figure out our next steps.
I slip out of bed and make my way to the main room, the wooden floor cold beneath my bare feet. Matt is already up, stoking the fire. He turns as I enter, offering a tight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
“Good morning,” he says, his voice rough with sleep or stress, I'm not sure which. “How are you holding up?”
“I'll manage,” I say, my mind already racing through our priorities. “Thanks for tending to the fire.” The heat from the fireplace cuts through the chill that seems to have settled in my bones.
“Not a problem.” He stands and tugs at the hem of his wrinkled shirt. There's an awkwardness between us now, in the harsh light of day. Last night's shared crisis created an intimacy that feels strange in the quiet of the morning. “What are we doing today?” he asks, breaking the silence.
I square my shoulders, pushing aside my uncertainty. This is no time for hesitation. “We've got a lot on our plate. First, we need to call my brother Finn using the satellite phone at the lodge. Then we should assess the damage and start planning repairs.”
Matt nods, looking impressed by my take-charge attitude. It's a far cry from the helpless feeling I had last night, and I cling to this newfound confidence. “Sounds like a solid strategy. What do you need me to do?”
I appreciate that he's not trying to take over, unlike what I'm used to with my family. It's refreshing to have someone defer to my judgment, especially after years of being the baby sister who needs protection.
“Let's eat something and then head to the lodge. I know the layout best, so I'll lead the way.”
“Alright,” Matt says, moving toward the kitchen. “Oatmeal for breakfast?”
I nod, appreciating that he remembered what we had from our inventory last night. “Good call,” I reply, joining him. “I'll get the water boiling.”
I grab a box of matches from the counter and strike one, holding the flame to the burner of the gas range. It catches with a soft whoosh, the faint smell of sulfur lingering in the air. The simplicity of using the range without power feels oddly grounding, a reminder of how much we take for granted.
As we prepare and eat our simple breakfast, I outline my thoughts on what we might find at the lodge and the immediate steps we'll need to take. Matt listens attentively, offeringinsights from his construction experience when relevant, but always deferring to my familiarity with the place. His input is valuable, and I find myself grateful for his company. Handling this alone would have been overwhelming.
With breakfast done, we layer up in Matt's spare clothes since our coats were left at the lodge. The feel of his worn-in flannels against my skin brings an unexpected comfort, their scent steadying my nerves as we prepare to face the day's challenges. I try not to dwell on the intimacy of wearing his clothes, focusing instead on the task ahead.
“Ready?” I ask, hand on the door handle, bracing myself for what we might find outside.
Matt nods, a look of respect in his eyes that bolsters my confidence. “Lead the way.”
With that, we head to the front door, but as soon as I pull it open, my heart sinks. A massive wall of snow looms in front of us, nearly filling the doorway. The storm may have passed, but it left behind a drift that’s going to take hours, maybe days, to clear.
“Great,” I mutter, more to myself than to Matt. “We’re not going anywhere until we dig our way out.”
Matt steps up beside me, his expression fluctuating from determination to concern. “We’re really snowed in, huh?”
“Yeah,” I sigh, already thinking ahead. “There’s a snow shovel in the hall closet. Only one, though, so we’ll have to take turns.”
I quickly retrieve the shovel and hand it to Matt first. He nods, taking the lead as he begins to chip away at the snow blocking our exit. The cold bites at my cheeks, but the exertion quickly warms us both. It’s slow, exhausting progress, and with every shovelful, it becomes clear that this is going to take more than a few hours. We might not reach the lodge today—or even tomorrow.
After a while, Matt passes the shovel to me, and I continue the work. The repetition is mind-numbing, but it’s necessary. “We’ll be lucky if we get out of here in two days,” I say, trying to gauge how deep the drift really is.
Matt watches me work, leaning against the doorframe to catch his breath. “Yeah, but at least the lodge isn’t going anywhere. We’ll get there when we get there.”
His calm approach helps ease the frustration building inside me. It’s a setback, but we’ll manage. We have to.
As the hours drag on, we take turns with the shovel, each of us pushing through our own exhaustion. My arms ache, and the cold is seeping back into my bones, but I refuse to quit. Finally, as the sun starts to dip lower in the sky, signaling the end of the day, Matt suggests we call it for now.
“We’ll get back to it tomorrow,” he says, his breath misting in the cold air. “Pushing ourselves too hard now won’t do us any good.”
Reluctantly, I agree. We retreat back into the cabin, where the fire feels like a welcome embrace after battling the elements. The storm may have passed, but it’s clear we’re still in for a long haul.
