Snowbound Cinderella. Ruth Langan

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      Three

      Ciara stared around with a look of wonder as they made their way down the hill. “I can’t believe this much snow fell in just one day.”

      “Yeah. These spring storms can be deadly. They’re almost worse than in the wintertime. At least then you know what to expect.” He shot her a knowing grin. “This time of year you could get caught in your bikini. That was a bikini you were wearing last night, wasn’t it?”

      “A thong. And you’re not going to let me forget it, are you?”

      “Why should I? It’s not something I’m liable to forget.”

      He was rewarded by a glimpse of Ciara blushing. Not something he’d ever expected to see, especially since she had been so defiant last night. But then, she’d been fighting nerves. Maybe she’d merely tried to cover them with an act of bravado.

      “Watch out for these drifts.” Jace picked his way through the mounds of snow, breaking a trail for Ciara to follow. In places the snow was so deep that it reached nearly to their waists. Hidden beneath were rocks and stumps and fallen trees just waiting to trip them.

      Jace turned to offer his hand, and saw Ciara standing perfectly still, her head lifted, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun.

      He followed the direction of her gaze and caught sight of a hawk lazily riding air currents overhead. “Majestic, isn’t he?”

      She nodded. “He’s a beauty. I’ve always been fascinated by hawks. Occasionally when I’m driving, I’ll spot one perched on a light post high above the freeway. I always find myself wondering why it doesn’t fly off to the wilderness.”

      “Maybe there’s a girlfriend on a nearby light post. After all, there has to be something keeping him in town.”

      “Maybe so. But why don’t they both fly away? It just seems so much more natural to see one here in the mountains than to see one trying to adapt to life in a crowded, bustling city.”

      “They’re like all creatures.” His tone deepened. “Adapt or die.”

      Ciara nodded. “I guess that’s true. We all have to adapt. But look how much we sacrifice for our urban sprawl. Noise and traffic and people in our faces. It just seems a pity that we pay such a high price for civilization.”

      “Don’t be so quick to knock it. I’ve seen the other side. Primitive life isn’t all that pure and noble.” Jace’s voice hardened. “There’s just as much violence in nature, and in small, developing nations, as there is in any big, cold, impersonal city.”

      Ciara was surprised by the passion in his voice. He was such a contrast in moods. For the most part funny and irreverent. But maybe he used that offbeat humor to mask much deeper feelings. She found herself wondering once more just what he’d seen, and where he’d seen it. Whatever it was, wherever it was, she felt certain it had been filled with violence and tragedy.

      Before she could form a question, a frightened rabbit suddenly dashed across the snow. In a blur of motion the hawk went into a dive and sank its talons deep. The rabbit shrieked in pain, then went eerily silent as the hawk lifted into the air. Within minutes it had flown out of sight with its prey, leaving nothing but drops of blood in the snow to mark its passing.

      Caught up in the drama, Ciara could do nothing more than stare into the distance. In the blink of an eye, everything had changed. The pastoral scene had turned into one of frightening violence.

      Finally finding her voice, she turned. “How could you possibly know that would happen?”

      “I didn’t. At least I didn’t expect to see it happen right here in front of us. But it was a pretty good bet that our hawk was searching for lunch.” Seeing that she was shaken by the incident, he took her hand. It was cold as ice. And the mere touch of her hand in his packed a punch that had him sucking in a breath.

      “Come on. We need to get inside where it’s warm.” He led her over a series of buried boulders.

      As they neared the cabin she turned to him. “This morning you mentioned Bosnia. You’ve been there?”

      He nodded. “Bosnia, Kosovo, and half a dozen other towns all over eastern Europe.”

      “Then you’ve seen firsthand all the things that the rest of us only saw on the nightly news.”

      “I’ve seen enough.” He opened the cabin door and stood aside to let her lead the way inside. “More than enough.”

      As she stomped snow from her boots she glanced over, and noticed that the bleak look had returned to his eyes. And the frown line was there between his brows.

      In an effort to lift his spirits she said, “If you’ll bring the milk from the shed, I’ll make hot chocolate.”

      “It’s a deal.” He turned away, eager to escape.

      Jace took his time trudging through the snow to the shed. The violent scene with the hawk had triggered an explosion of memories. Of burned-out buildings, and towns under siege. Of the sound of distant gunfire that went on night and day. Of old men and women scavenging food and water and firewood. Of entire families forced to flee with nothing but the clothes on their backs, leaving their homes, their histories behind in search of peace.

      Of Ireina. The bomb.

      He had thought a visit to this mountain cabin would be a return to normalcy. That he could simply put the past behind him and get on with his life. What he hadn’t counted on was the fact that he carried so much baggage. The past was still with him, here in his mind. Haunting him. Taunting him. And the least little spark could set off a firestorm of memories. Some pleasant. A few poignant. All painful.

      He paused outside the shed and studied the snowdrifts that reached almost to the roof. Suddenly in his mind he was transported back to that small village outside Bosnia…

      In an unexpected downpour, he and his crew had taken refuge in a deserted shed. They huddled around a small fire they’d started on the dirt floor. They had looked up in alarm at the high-pitched whine that signaled an approaching missile. Before they could react, a side of the building was blown away. And with it, their driver. As the rest of the shed slowly collapsed around them, they scrambled free and piled into their truck, keeping one step ahead of the advancing army of terrorists.

      The driver—a man from a nearby village—had been young. No more than eighteen. He had taken the dangerous job of driving the news crew in order to help feed his family. He’d had a pretty little dark-eyed girlfriend who had collapsed in grief when she’d heard the news of his death. Jace had learned later that she was carrying the driver’s baby; they’d planned to marry. But the war and chaos in their country had prevented them from seeing it through.

      That night, as Jace fed the news to the networks, he had been completely poised—his face, his voice, devoid of the emotions churning inside him. He was, as always, the complete professional. Looking back on it he realized he’d never permitted himself to give voice to his grief, choosing instead to push himself to work even harder, to block the feelings.

      It was only one of the hundreds of instances in which he’d suppressed his emotions on the job. It СКАЧАТЬ