She had so been looking forward to exploring the backcountry. She had been in Haven Point for six weeks and had mostly hiked around the lake. This had been her one time to see more of the countryside.
It had been spectacular, Gemma had to admit. The aspens were a beautiful golden color and the other trees provided contrasting colors in reds and oranges. As she had hiked the route McKenzie Kilpatrick had told her about, an easy trail to a beautiful alpine lake, she had felt good. Her leg had bothered her, as it always did when she pushed it too much, but the gorgeous setting had helped distract her from it.
Once she reached the lake, she had the place all to herself and had sat for a good hour, in awe that she was there. She had been thrilled to see two moose in the distance as well as a handful of elk.
This was exactly why she came to Idaho and took the job with Caine Tech—the chance to experience beautiful settings like that one, as far removed from their neatly manicured home in Dorset as she could imagine.
And then everything went wrong. The trail back to her vehicle should have been easier but she had found even slightly downhill terrain more difficult to navigate with her bad leg. And then she had stumbled on a rock when she was about a half mile from her vehicle, twisting her ankle enough that she’d had to hobble the rest of the way.
The snowflakes seemed to whirl and dance with increasing intensity now and her tires fought for traction on the road. If she went out of control, she would plunge down the mountainside with only trees to block her fall. There were no guardrails on this backcountry dirt road, no warning signs. Only darkness that plunged down for hundreds of feet.
What if she couldn’t make it down the road the rest of the way? What if she was stranded here on the mountainside? She had passed a few ranches on the way up. Surely she could find someone who could give her shelter until she could make her way home.
She shouldn’t have come alone. Gemma knew the rules about never hiking into the backcountry without a buddy. The salesperson at the sporting goods store in town had been firm on that.
She had figured she would be going only on a short hike and would be fine on her own. While she had made friends since she came to town, she didn’t know any of them well enough to call them on a whim on a Saturday afternoon and ask if they would like to go hiking with her.
Anyway, she had stocked up on survival supplies at the sporting goods store, extra rations in her backpack, even bear spray.
None of that would do her any good if she slid down the mountain in her car.
She should have heeded the warning signs that a storm was coming. Clouds had been gathering all afternoon. She had thought she might have to deal with one of the regular squalls that hit the area in the afternoons. She just never expected the rain to turn to sleet and now full-on snow.
What had been her big hurry, anyway? She could have saved her exploring for the following spring and summer, when the weather would be nicer and she wouldn’t run the risk of frostbite. She was in Haven Point for the long-term. This was a life choice she had made, a chance to start over away from her family’s loving but suffocating influence.
The vehicle slid again on the slick road. Gemma gasped, her hands sweaty and her stomach in knots. From the depths of her subconscious, memories clawed to the surface.
A screech of tires, shattering glass, the sickening, horrible silence afterward as she cried out her brother’s name and received no answer in return.
Her right leg ached a vicious echo of her thoughts, a constant reminder of that horrible day.
As she had been trying to do for three years, she attempted to push away the memories so she could focus on the crisis at hand. They never entirely left her, always hovering just on the edge of her awareness.
This wasn’t at all the same situation. She was in full control, even when the tires were sliding. The car’s all-wheel drive and traction control were doing their job. An out-of-control lorry was not about to run through a stop sign and plow into her.
She had only to drive slowly, carefully, down the mountainside to her cottage, where she could turn on the gas fireplace, change into dry clothes and drink something hot and comforting.
The sun seemed to set extraordinarily quickly. One moment she was driving through murky, snowy twilight, the next it was full dark.
Only a little farther. She had to be close to where the dirt road changed to pavement. A few more moments. She could do this...
She heard a rumble outside the car, distant at first and then growing louder. The trees on the mountain side of the road seemed to tremble and then the next instant, before she realized what was happening, a river of mud and rocks and debris poured across the roadway directly in front of her.
She slammed on her brakes and felt the vehicle’s rear tires fishtail. She had braked too fast, too hard. The car was out of control now, heading for the trees on the downward slope. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. She couldn’t die in a car accident, after all the work it had taken her to survive the last one.
She hit the brakes again and somehow, miraculously, the car bumped gently into the trunk of a pine tree and came to a shuddering stop just inches from plunging down the mountain.
She wasn’t dead. How was she
