Once and Again (Chapter 1)

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:: ONE ::

The man dragged his son down to bed and wrestled hard to keep him there.

“Daddyyyy...” The precocious four year old wailed exasperatedly. “But I don’t wanna sleep yet.”

The man sat down on the bed beside his son and ruffled his hair. “Tough luck, buddy. It’s way past your bedtime.” He pulled up the covers over his son and tucked him in while he sulked. The evening walk in the snow had made the boy tired and ill-tempered.

“I wanna hear a story.” He pouted.

“A story?”

“Yeah! A bedtime story!”

“How about the one of the princess lost in the snow?” The man suggested smilingly, loving the grin his son immediately flashed, a grin achingly like his.

“Alright! You’re the best, Dad!” His son whooped.

He ducked his head to press a kiss on the boy’s hair, loving him so much that for a moment, he was swamped by his emotions, unable to speak.

“Let’s begin then, shall we? Where was I last week?”

“You were just about to reach the part where...”

“I remember now.”

Heads tucked together, father and son began on a journey, as the snow fell in sheets outside.

*

The engine of the red Honda gave a final sputter and died. Quinn McKenna cursed imaginatively, threw her head against the headrest and rubbed her temples wearily. She’d left Missoula literally at dawn, having barely slept at all the previous night, and made the long drive to Triple K Ranch. To reach her family ranch, she had to drive up a mountain, and come down again to Clover Valley, where Triple K Ranch rested. She’d barely left Clearview Town and reached the peak of Larkspur Hills when her heap of historical junk took an early retirement to metal scrap heaven.

Sighing, she jabbed at the radio, which was churning out carol after irritating carol. The songs finally drew to an abrupt halt as she jabbed the power button. Resolutely, she got out of her car, and retrieved her knapsack from the boot. Leaving the car at the side of the narrow mountain road, she sent a prayer heavenward hoping that the weather would hold. Already, the air was cool and crisp, tingling with the impending snow.

I wish you a Merry Christmas, farlalalala lalalalah.

Quinn started the four miles hike down the long lonely road.

*

Cole Hollister cut a stark, forbidding figure as he stood at the edge of the small forest, a pile of firewood lying neglected by his feet. He seemed riveted by a huge rock below a tree with its branches bare, as he knelt down and fingered it gently. On the rock, there was a carving that was prominent even after twelve years of weathering the elements. It was a simple etching, consisting of two initials surrounded by a heart.

CAH and CQM.

In love.

Forever.

Maybe they were once in love, Cole thought bitterly. But forever hadn’t stood a chance.

He gathered up the firewood, stood up and trudged back to his cabin, unable to purge past memories as the snow started to fall languidly.

*

When the first few flakes of snow fell, Quinn’s spirit fell drastically. She’d barely completed a quarter of the journey and now this! Talk about bad luck.

She widened her steps and quickened her pace, her mind full of impending disaster should she not reach the ranch in time. Reminding herself to stay positive, Quinn switched her thoughts to the upcoming Thanksgiving dinner, her siblings, and her dear parents. Every Christmas, the McKenna kids would gather back at Triple K Ranch come hell or high water. Her lips curved wryly as she imagined what her acerbic brothers would say when they discovered of her exploits this year round. God, she’d missed them. Her job as associate lecturer at the University Of Montana in Missoula seldom gave her time to catch up with her siblings, and she always looked forward to Christmas for this reason.

This year, however, everything was different.

There was Kyle and Cat, the eldest among them, Sky, her elder brother, and Michelle, the youngest of all. There was also Ken and Julia, Cat’s children, Phil and MaryAnn, Sky’s children. When the whole brood got together, the ranch became a regular circus.

While she mused, the snow around her had fallen steadily and it started to get freezing. Quinn wrapped her parka even more tightly around her and rubbed her gloved palms together in the hope of generating heat.

It was to no avail however, and Quinn felt colder than ever in a matter of minutes. The snow was falling in sheets now. Her vision had been cut greatly and her speed was seriously hindered.
Her back was aching, and numbness was snaking its way up her spine.

It’s only the cold, Quinn told herself, only the cold.

She could hazily see a cabin through the snowstorm and her last conscious thought as a sudden pain that originated from her throbbing head and rocked through her body was…

…dammit, not here, not now.

*

Cole was sipping a cup of hot cider and throwing logs to feed the flame. The fire threw shadows around the cosy sitting room. A blizzard was suddenly falling outside and it nearly obliterated the sunlight even though it was just a little over afternoon.

Cole was glad of the sweater that clung snugly to his huge frame, for it kept him warm. Without it, he would no doubt be shivering even with the blazing fire in the room. He walked to the large glass panes that served as windows and surveyed the view outside.

The snow was falling down with a vengeance, colouring the landscape a blinding and dazzling white. The conical pine trees that grew in abundance around the cabin were already sheathed in robes of ice, and his Chevy was up to its tires in snow.

Further off, snow was slowly gathering on top of a small rock, which stood out in a field of white. It was slightly…

Something was wrong with the rock, Cole thought and squinted to get a better view. The rock seemed to be… it was moving!

Struck with the realization that the rock was actually a person, Cole moved with a speed and agility that belied his size. He gathered up his parka, threw open the door, and rushed out into the freezing air.

In no time, he’d reached the person, who was lying face down in the rapidly thickening snow. Cole hurriedly threw his parka over the still figure and gathered the person up in his arms. The stranger did not weigh more than one hundred and twenty pounds, and Cole surmised that she must be female.

He wasted no time in getting back to the cabin.

Where should I put her? Cole thought a bit frantically.

On the couch? No, too far away from the fire.

By the fire then? Yes.

Should I undress her? Her clothes are soaking wet.

And expose her to the surrounding air? You must be nuts from the cold! Cole chastised himself.

But you can’t leave her in lying in her wet clothes!

So change them into something of yours, moron!

With hands that were no longer rock steady, Cole lowered the stranger beside the fireplace. He hurriedly slipped the stranger’s soaking wet parka off her, and removed the woollen cap that covered half her face.

Seeing the face of the unconscious stranger was like receiving a well-placed punch in his gut while his defences were down. All the air in him whooshed out of his lungs and he felt like doubling over in pain.

It was Catherine Quinn McKenna, lying in front of the fireplace in his cabin, twelve years too late.

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