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ChapterFive
Katie shivered in front of the cold wood stove, watching Arne rush in and out of the door hauling wood. He expertly stacked it in the stove and swiped a match across the metal casing.. The sharp sulfuric smell eased the tension bunched in her back muscles, like they knew warmth was moments away.
“Do you think Ole’s all right?” She looked around the small tidy cabin with supplies efficiently stacked and stored along the walls.
“He probably just went to town for supplies.” Arne rubbed his hands as flames crackled to life. He spun on his toes in his crouch, his forehead wrinkling over his blond eyebrows as he took her in. “We need to change. You’ll never get warm in those wet clothes.”
Her cheeks flamed hot. If she kept blushing, she wouldn’t need a fire. In fact, she might produce enough heat to dry her clothes while still wearing them. She’d never been embarrassed around Arne. However, she’d never been so aware of him either.
She’d always known he was good-looking, but he had just been her Arne, her best friend. Had he really meant it when he said he’d have drowned in the creek with her? Her heart swelled again at the memory of his words, at the soft touch of his lips that showed her just how much he cherished her. She’d been so foolish to push him away after the accident. Somewhere in the last four years, his letters had softened her anger enough to see who he truly was to her. The guilt of not writing back to him to ease his burden twisted like a knife in her gut.
The snap of a blanket turned her head from the growing fire. Arne threw the bright wool blanket over his arm and snatched a pile of clothes from the bed. His smile held stifled humor as he looked from her to the pile of clothes.
“You’re going to swim in these clothes.” He let the full force of his smile go as he dropped the clothes next to her. “It’ll be better than swimming in the creek, though.”
“Har, har.” She fingered the plaid, worn soft with years of use.
“I’ll hold up the blanket so you have privacy.” A fascinating shade of pink tinted his neck, causing her fingers to fumble in the fabric.
Was he nervous, too? Would their relationship turn from estranged to awkward? She wanted her best friend back, longed for the way she could talk to him about anything. Would his absence and her selfishness ruin her chance to heal the ache in her heart?
“Hurry up.” He held the blanket high between them like a curtain. “My freezing jeans are chilling me to the bone.”
She tried to hurry, but the violent shaking of her hands made it nearly impossible to unbutton her pants and pull them off. Thankfully, she’d worn a plain tank top with her zippered sweatshirt. She tossed her clothes with a wet slap into a pile and yanked on the wool pants. The fabric itched but instantly began warming her almost as much as the growing fire. Her fingers still trembled too much to button the shirt, so she wrapped it tight around her and crossed her arms. She didn’t want to make Arne wait any longer to get dry himself.
“Okay. You can change.” She rolled her eyes as her neck heated. Really? Would there just be an exchange of blushing between them?
His throat cleared behind her, and he placed the blanket on her shoulders, but she didn’t move. She didn’t want him to see her embarrassment. It was no use, because he crouched with a cringe he didn’t stifle quick enough in front of the stove two feet from her. He fed more logs on the fire before closing the door and adjusting the air intake. His muscles bunched and bulged under his tight, wet t-shirt, making her mouth go dry. He turned to her, and she snapped her eyes up from where she ogled, her ears turning hot. His lips tweaked.
Busted.
“I’m going to change. Don’t turn around.” He looked at her trembling hands that clutched the shirt close, then her lips, his expression hardening in concern at each stop. “Then we’ll get some tea or coffee in you, maybe open a can of soup or something.” He brushed his thumb over her lips, his big hand cupping her cheek and spreading warmth down her neck. “I don’t like how pale you are, or the blue tint of your lips.”
He stood, checked the teapot on the stove’s top, then, with a nod, set it back on the heat and limped behind her. Had he re-injured his leg, getting them out of the water? Katie hurried to button the shirt under the blanket, but only got half the way down before her hands shook too much to continue. She waved the rest off with an exhausted huff. The shirt covered her enough. It didn’t need to be buttoned all the way.
Arne grunted from behind her. The plop of his wet jeans landing on top of hers startled her and almost made her look behind. His t-shirt followed a second later. She squeezed her eyes shut and mumbled ‘candy corn’ to distract herself.
Much quicker than she had changed, he stepped back into her view. She took his outfit in. The pants were so big in the waist he held them up with one hand, but so short they didn’t reach past halfway down his calves. A shirt identical in style to the one she wore, and that hung past her fingers, stopped about three-quarters of the way down his forearms.
She burst out laughing. The absurdity filled her with a happiness she hadn’t felt in a long time. He stopped short, his eyes snapped to hers, then looked down at himself. His low-rumbled chuckle multiplied her joy until she wiped the blanket across her cheek to dry the tears. It wasn’t that funny, but the relief of surviving and being with Arne again bubbled into laughter she couldn’t stop.
After putting on his belt, Arne hung his clothes on the string stretched across one side of the cabin, then added hers. He searched the shelves until he found what he wanted, opened the can, and dumped it into a pot. His face was frozen in serious concentration as he set the pan on the stove.
“Tomato soup.” He turned to her. “I hope it’s still your favorite.”
She swallowed and nodded, unable to form words. He then crossed the cabin to the ham radio and flipped it on. Would anyone have their radio on? How long would they be stuck here before someone could come help?
“WF8ARN. Anyone on?” Hearing Arne’s call sign brought back so many memories of growing up, and he would call her over the radio just to say hi.
“WF8ARN, KD8JOH.” Hearing her dad’s voice over the radio made her eyes sting with tears. “What’s going on, son?”
“John, we were swept downstream on Lynx Creek when a flash flood hit us. Katie’s fine, but we’re stuck at Ole’s place.” Arne watched her from across the room, his body slumped against the counter like he still couldn’t believe they were safe.
“No one’s injured?” The curt response showed the talkative man’s concern.
“No, just cold.” Arne rubbed his hand down his face. “I’m not sure what happened to the truck and trommel. If we can save it, we’ll probably need a dozer.”
“We’ll worry about that later. Is Ole taking care of you?” Dad’s lack of concern for the equipment eased a tension she hadn’t known she had.
