Free No Safe Haven by Kimberley Woodhouse Page B
Authors: Kimberley Woodhouse
me."
She studied his face. "As long as you promise we'll talk about God later."
"Fine. Whatever." Tenacious kid. "Now tell me about . . ."
"HSAN? Sure, okay. It stands for Hereditary Sensory Autonomic Neuropathy."
"Wow. That's a mouthful." His words were clipped as the thin air pressed his lungs.
"Yeah, you should try to spell it."
He humphed.
"Anyway, I can't sweat, I don't feel pain, and I also had brain surgery last year. But it was for something else, because I couldn't feel the pain of the problem, so they had to do surgery. But I'm better now."
Did all preteen girls dump information this fast? "So, you could have . . ."
"What?" Andie scrunched her eyebrows. "Just say it. I'm not a baby."
"I know that. I just realized you could have died back there and I didn't like that thought." The exertion of climbing, carrying extra weight, and talking began to make him light-headed.
They were almost over the ledge. Andie waved her hand at her mom, smiled, and then looked back at him. "You know what, Cole?"
"Hmm?" He concentrated on his grip, securing each foothold before the next.
"I think you're the first person to actually understand the depth of my disorder on the first try. Seriously, people—even family members—don't always get it until they've been around us for a long time. Thanks. For understanding."
Heaving them over the ledge onto easier terrain, his heart hammered in his chest. And not just from the exertion. How could this be happening? A carefully guarded space inside him begged to be unlocked.
No. Not again.
Never.
He unfastened Andie and collapsed in the snow as mother and daughter united. They must've made some good progress today, the air was thinner. Definitely higher altitude. Breathing deep, he took a minute to take off his pack and compose himself. Keep your mind on the mission.
His traitorous mind had other plans.
Not one soul had penetrated his heart in more than nine years. And that was how he wanted it. His promise was costing him more by the minute.
The girls' voices drifted over him.
"Oh, Mom, I was so scared! I tried to call your name, but it was already too late. I just wish I could feel it sooner."
"Honey, I'm so sorry. I should've checked your temperature earlier. I'm just glad you're okay." Jenna touched noses with her daughter. "You'd think in two-degree weather, we wouldn't have to worry about it, huh?"
Andie's giggles floated in the air around him. "Mom, you crack me up. I'm so glad you're my mom. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Same here, kiddo. Thank God He saw fit to give you to me."
Cole turned away from the scene. Then why does He take people away?
Clouds continued to swirl and gather around the peaks of Denali and Sultana. The weather wouldn't hold much longer. They had to move.
"Jenna, Andie," he barked. "Time to go."
Jenna turned and approached him slowly. "Cole. Thank you." Placing one hand over her chest and another on his arm, she continued, "I can't tell you what it means—"
"Not a problem. But we need to get moving." His words impaled her smile, but this was solid ground. The mission. "There's a storm coming. I can feel it."
Hurt shone in her eyes. "Okay." She went back to Andie. "Honey, we need to go."
In silence, they replaced packs and adjusted ropes.
"We're ready, Cole." Andie gave him a thumbs-up and lifted her ski mask over her head. A smile shaped her lips, but her complexion was pale.
"You all right?"
"I'm tired. But if I don't keep moving, my body will just quit."
Cole turned to Jenna for help. What did that mean?
Jenna's eyes were guarded. "Don't push too hard."
He could read between the lines. If something happened, she'd blame him. Well, that wasn't going to happen. He pasted on a smile and looked to Andie. "All right, Einstein. I want you right behind me this time, and I mean directly behind me, okay?" He attached another shorter rope between just the two of them. "If you need anything, tug on this rope, and if you slip or
She studied his face. "As long as you promise we'll talk about God later."
"Fine. Whatever." Tenacious kid. "Now tell me about . . ."
"HSAN? Sure, okay. It stands for Hereditary Sensory Autonomic Neuropathy."
"Wow. That's a mouthful." His words were clipped as the thin air pressed his lungs.
"Yeah, you should try to spell it."
He humphed.
"Anyway, I can't sweat, I don't feel pain, and I also had brain surgery last year. But it was for something else, because I couldn't feel the pain of the problem, so they had to do surgery. But I'm better now."
Did all preteen girls dump information this fast? "So, you could have . . ."
"What?" Andie scrunched her eyebrows. "Just say it. I'm not a baby."
"I know that. I just realized you could have died back there and I didn't like that thought." The exertion of climbing, carrying extra weight, and talking began to make him light-headed.
They were almost over the ledge. Andie waved her hand at her mom, smiled, and then looked back at him. "You know what, Cole?"
"Hmm?" He concentrated on his grip, securing each foothold before the next.
"I think you're the first person to actually understand the depth of my disorder on the first try. Seriously, people—even family members—don't always get it until they've been around us for a long time. Thanks. For understanding."
Heaving them over the ledge onto easier terrain, his heart hammered in his chest. And not just from the exertion. How could this be happening? A carefully guarded space inside him begged to be unlocked.
No. Not again.
Never.
He unfastened Andie and collapsed in the snow as mother and daughter united. They must've made some good progress today, the air was thinner. Definitely higher altitude. Breathing deep, he took a minute to take off his pack and compose himself. Keep your mind on the mission.
His traitorous mind had other plans.
Not one soul had penetrated his heart in more than nine years. And that was how he wanted it. His promise was costing him more by the minute.
The girls' voices drifted over him.
"Oh, Mom, I was so scared! I tried to call your name, but it was already too late. I just wish I could feel it sooner."
"Honey, I'm so sorry. I should've checked your temperature earlier. I'm just glad you're okay." Jenna touched noses with her daughter. "You'd think in two-degree weather, we wouldn't have to worry about it, huh?"
Andie's giggles floated in the air around him. "Mom, you crack me up. I'm so glad you're my mom. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Same here, kiddo. Thank God He saw fit to give you to me."
Cole turned away from the scene. Then why does He take people away?
Clouds continued to swirl and gather around the peaks of Denali and Sultana. The weather wouldn't hold much longer. They had to move.
"Jenna, Andie," he barked. "Time to go."
Jenna turned and approached him slowly. "Cole. Thank you." Placing one hand over her chest and another on his arm, she continued, "I can't tell you what it means—"
"Not a problem. But we need to get moving." His words impaled her smile, but this was solid ground. The mission. "There's a storm coming. I can feel it."
Hurt shone in her eyes. "Okay." She went back to Andie. "Honey, we need to go."
In silence, they replaced packs and adjusted ropes.
"We're ready, Cole." Andie gave him a thumbs-up and lifted her ski mask over her head. A smile shaped her lips, but her complexion was pale.
"You all right?"
"I'm tired. But if I don't keep moving, my body will just quit."
Cole turned to Jenna for help. What did that mean?
Jenna's eyes were guarded. "Don't push too hard."
He could read between the lines. If something happened, she'd blame him. Well, that wasn't going to happen. He pasted on a smile and looked to Andie. "All right, Einstein. I want you right behind me this time, and I mean directly behind me, okay?" He attached another shorter rope between just the two of them. "If you need anything, tug on this rope, and if you slip or