Black Bear Rising: A BWWM Paranormal Romance (Black Bear Saga Book 1) (34 page)

When she was blinded by her accident and all she had to rely on was her hearing she could pick up a timbre in his voice that had made her skin prickle every time he spoke. There was an openness and kindness to his voice and yet even during those first days they had spoken she had picked up on an underlying sadness as if it was a note played so low she wasn't able to pick it out at first. Once she did pick it out she couldn't stop noticing the melancholy in his voice, the way he held back whenever he spoke about himself. He guarded himself choosing his words carefully and sometimes pulling back, the wall going up when she asked innocent questions about his family. Thinking back to those first days when all she heard was his voice she realised that she had already started to fall for him, a little bit harder every day.

When she finally saw him, his voice partly matched the face she had in her mind. He was square shouldered and thick around the biceps from years of farm work. She had imagined him clean shaven but was surprised to see his short scrubby beard of thick dark hair. He had dazzling blue eyes gently wrinkled at the corners and when he smiled at her his whole face lit up. She felt butterflies swoop in her stomach as she thought about his killer smile. His hands were strong and work calloused and as they whispered across her dark skin explosions of pleasure spun out from under his touch. He carried himself with a wounded confidence something akin to a once dangerous bear that had been hurt in a snarling and toothsome fight.

Lana's heart fluttered as the warm water cascaded down over her shoulders, relaxing her and allowing her thoughts to dance and spiral off into the realm of possibility. She imagined the shape of her life in rural Iceland. Would she work in the fields beside Einar, growing their own food and being self sufficient. She saw in her mind huge flakes of snow falling and covering the farm in a soft white layer as Einar prepared them hot chocolate. She was curled up on the old beaten up couch, her legs curled up under her while she read a good book. She would look over the top of her book while Einar worked in the kitchen. He would glance over at her, sensing her gaze and give her a smile that she couldn't help return. His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes while he exuded warmth and love.

Should she even dream about this kind of possibility she asked herself, especially while her life was still in jeopardy. She turned off the shower and stepped out into the chill bathroom, steam rising off her bare shoulders. She wiped off the mirror and looked at herself. We can make it through this she told her reflection, she had to believe it or she couldn't go on any more. Being with Einar had started to give her hope and she knew that was a dangerous thing to hold onto.

Einar tapped on the door and said, “Breakfast is nearly ready.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said drying herself off.

Outside sitting in the sun and staring across the farms fields everything felt so peaceful. They existed in a bubble which contained only them, everything else blocked out of sight. I could do this every morning Lana thought to herself as she lay with her head against Einar's shoulder.

He finished his coffee off with a satisfied gulp and said, “We better get going as early as possible. This place feels too exposed, trouble could come from anywhere. My family owns an old hunting cabin close to a glacier a few hours away. The cabin is very basic. Its remote and theres only one way in by road. If he comes for us we will be ready and waiting. I’m going to grab some stuff and then we can head off if you’re ready?”

Lana kissed him on the shoulder and said, “I’m ready to go. I’m going to miss the cottage and the farm. It’s so peaceful here. I feel like I’m in a quiet corner of paradise.”

Einar took her hand in his and rubbed the back of it. “You will be back here again, I promise you. I was hoping you would stick around to see our village round up the sheep at the end of the summer.”

Lana could feel a tension in the back of her throat, a dry raspy tickle and she realised she was close to tears. “I’d like that,” she said turning away from him. She felt on the verge of tears and did not want him to see her cry. She wished she could believe his promise but Lana knew the shadow was creeping close to the door and soon it would engulf them. Tears began to spill down her cheeks and her shoulders shook. Einar pulled her in close against him and he gently raised her face so he could look her directly in the eyes.

“This man who’s after you. He won’t get another chance to get close to you like yesterday. I will do anything,” he said clenching his jaw and looking her dead in the eyes, “anything to stop him hurting you again. Where we are going, there is only one way in and out. If he actually finds us and even that is a long shot, I will do everything to stop him. I’ve been deer hunting since I was eight and I’m a pretty good shot. Your attacker won’t even have a chance to get any where near us.” He kissed the tears rolling down her cheeks and gently kissed her closed eyelids and said, “We are going to get through this, together.” She nodded her head and Einar got up and went inside to prepare for their trip.

Einar threw two bags into the back of the pick up truck and then got into the cab. “You ready to go?” he asked Lana. She nodded her head and he started the engine and drove away from the farm. Lana glanced back as they drove down the dirt road and she felt a sharp pang of sadness as the cottage moved farther into the distance.

“Tell me about your hunting trips,” Lana asked to try to keep her mind off the creeping dread that permeated her.

“I used to go with my uncle and my father every summer for a few years, until they had a falling out and the hunting trips got cancelled. The years we did go were some of the best summers of my life. We’d set out to the hunting cabin by the glacier, the one we are going to now. Spend a few days there. My father and his brother would spend the evenings telling me stories about the Iceland of their youth. It was a completely different country back then. People lead tough lives and it was a constant struggle to survive. My father and uncle would both sit puffing on hand carved pipes and talk about some of the characters back in their days. Tales about crazy hermit men that the villagers wouldn't see from one end of the year to the other. Only occasionally would they come down from the mountains to pick up some basic provisions and then return to their mountain retreats. Back then there was a lot of people who lived like that, or at least it seemed to me from the stories my uncle told. I think there is something in the Icelandic spirit that yearns for that kind of life. Separate and alone from any society, living off the land. The only laws that matter are those of nature. It is such a simple way of living that is appealing to a lot of us. We have strong aversion to rules and formality and these mountain men where the ultimate embodiment of that ideal.”

“We demonise people like that back in the states. They are seen as bums or drifters and if they are not contributing to society in some way we are usually suspicious of them,” Lana said.

“Many of our folk heroes are these type of men who live apart from the rest of us. So my uncle and father would tell me stories about these crazy hermits filling my head with images of an Iceland they both believed was disappearing. During the days they would set up targets for us to shoot at for practise. My uncle was an excellent shot and always very patient with me as my marksmanship improved with practise. After a few days at the cabin we would then head off across the glacier,” he said.

“Is it dangerous?” Lana asked.

“It can be. There are huge crevasses that run across the surface. Some of them have rivers running through them at the bottom. If you fall into one of those you’ll never be seen again. My father showed me how to cross safely, to use a stout stick to probe the ground ahead of you as you walked, to avoid patches of snow as it might be a light covering hiding a hole. I’ll show you how to do it when we get there,” he said.

“Do I need any special equipment,” Lana asked as she watched the cars speeding by in the opposite direction. Her body stiffened in the seat every time a driver zoomed by who looked a little like the man tracking her down. Phantoms of your imagination she tried to tell herself as she listened to Einar.

“I have some stuff in the back for crossing. Crampons that clip onto your shoes to make it easier to walk on the glacier and ice axes for probing the ground in front of you. When I went as a kid our only piece of equipment was a stick cut down from a birch tree. Once we crossed the glacier we climbed a mountain range on the other side. Once we got to the peak of the mountain we would get our first look at our quarry. Herds of reindeer grazed on the open plain below. The moss and tiny brightly coloured arctic flowers were a favourite of the deers and they would congregate in the shade of the mountain and gorge on these plants. We’d move slowly down the mountain side and find the perfect spot down wind to line up our shots. On my third hunting trip, I must have been eleven or twelve, my uncle allowed me to take the first shot. This was a huge honour,” he said.

“Did you hit one?”

Einar glanced over at her and said, “Nope I completely screwed up and missed. A bee buzzed close to my ear right before I pulled the trigger. I aimed high and completely over the herd,” he said.

“Were your father and uncle disappointed in you?” Lana asked.

“No. They got a good laugh from it, they teased me all summer about the bee and took any opportunity they could to sneak up behind me and buzz loudly in my ear,” Einar said smiling.

They drove on for an hour until they came to the road that lead to the glacier. The way to the cabin was a one lane mud and loose gravel road that snaked along beside a steep fall on one side and a high rocky series of bluffs on the other. The canyon floor below was broken up by a myriad of thin snaking glacier streams making their way to the sea. Bright purple lupins with their bell like flower heads grew from the thin sandy soil, pushing out most other plants and flowers and dominating the area. They turned a bend in the road and the glacier was visible ahead of them. Even at a distance of ten kilometres the scale of the wall of ice was impressive. It was flanked on both sides by tall cone shaped mountains and the leading edge of the glacier extruded through the gap like toothpaste from a tube. The piece being forced through the gap of the mountains crossed a span of a kilometre and sometimes sheep were seen to cross it to get to the fresh untouched grass on the opposite side. The rest of the glacier continued to the horizon, a vast uninhabited wasteland of ice.

“I thought it would be blue,” Lana said, “like in those national geographic pictures.”

“It depends on the weather. If it’s bright and sunny it looks like a blue gem glittering and sparkling. When its grey and overcast like today the ice takes on a darker hue.”

“You can see the cabin now,” Einar said pointing up ahead.

The cabin sat at the end of the road. A large boulder that had come crashing down the mountain a few years ago sat a few meters away from the house. Behind the cabin Lana could see a footpath wind its way towards the edge of the glacier. They pulled up beside the boulder and Einar turned the car so that it was facing the way they had come.

Einar got out and looked down the road and Lana joined him. “Thats the only way in now. We have a good view of the road and any approaching cars. Do you want to go up to the glacier to have a look?”

Lana nodded and helped Einar unload the bags from the back of the truck. He slung one on his shoulder and they headed up to the ice sheets edge.

Einar stood and surveyed the edge of the ice. It was a three meter climb to the top and he walked back and forth looking for the easiest route. He found a section with a large seam running from top to bottom at an easy incline. He grabbed his ice axe from the bag and said to Lana, “Stand back a little while I do this.” She stepped back and Einar started to swing the axe into the glacier. Ice chips flew into the air in a frosty arc until he had made a set of indentations from the gravel footpath to the top of the glacier.
 

He stepped back and admired his handiwork, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. “That should do it,” he said replacing the axe heads protective cover and putting it in the bag. “Hey Lana, sit down on this rock here and I’ll fit you with crampons. We can take a quick look around on the top of the glacier.”

After a few minutes they both climbed the ice stairs and stood atop the glacier marvelling at the wide expanse of dark grey ice. Einar showed her how to walk with the crampons, her legs burned with the extra effort of digging the spikes in with every footfall. Once she felt confident in using them he showed her the best techniques for using the axe to probe the ground ahead of her and what to avoid.
 

“Won’t you be here with me the next time we are on the glacier,” Lana asked.

Einar stopped walking and stared in the direction of the sea. “I’ve been thinking, if someone comes for you again you should make a break for it. I can hold them off by the cabin. You can cross here and then escape into the mountains on the other side. I have a map back in the cabin and I can show you the best routes to follow once your across.”

“Can’t we just run away together,” Lana said hearing the pleading tone in her voice.

“I want this to end. We can’t keep on running. If he comes for you again I want to stop him in his tracks. We can’t do that if we are on the run, trying to keep one step ahead of this guy. It ends now, he’s on my territory, in my country, and I intend to stop him from getting any closer to you.”

Lana wrapped her arms around him and said, “I don't know what I’d do without you.”

They held each other in a tight embrace as the distant cracking of the glacier echoed throughout the canyon.

Back in the cabin Einar stacked a pair of crampons and an ice axe at the front door and said, “Any sign of trouble you grab these and follow the plan.”

The cabin had fallen into disrepair since Einar's father had died and the summer hunting sessions ended. Two bunk beds sat in the corner covered in heavy wool blankets knit by a long dead aunt. A small wooden stove provided the heat and the cooking facilities for the cabin. Outside a once bright yellow painted hand pump provided the only source of running water. The front windows of the cabin looked towards the road and a side window looked out at the canyon and a small sliver of the glacier was visible if you craned your head. Everything was covered in a layer of dust and the windows were streaked and cobwebbed.