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  The woman in the patch of garden cut through the vine and struggled to settle the misshapen pumpkin under one arm then followed him into the house.

  Joanna woke with a start and a stabbing pain in her side. She found herself lying on the living room couch clutching the thin blanket to her chest. Her back ached as she rolled over and swung her feet onto the floor. She was stiff and cold and sore all over. She had fallen asleep reading.

  She shook memories of the dream out of her head, stretched her arms and clambered off the couch. As she did every morning, Joanna looked out the window to check on the weather. It was another dull, gray day but there was no evidence of last night’s sudden storm. The front porch and steps were dry with not a trace of the little creek that had formed instantly during the night. What a strange dream, she thought, walking stiffly into the kitchen to put on the coffee, one hand pressing into the small of her back.

  Chapter 3

  A month after her arrival at the cabin, Joanna awoke to a world of white and silence. The sunlight streaming through her bedroom window had a cheerful intensity it could only get when reflecting off fresh snow.

  She saw the tiny tracks of birds on the porch rail, marking where they gathered under the well-stocked bird feeder. As she watched, a lone chickadee landed on the step of the feeder, his brown head bobbing cheerfully in enjoyment of his breakfast. A tender gust of wind ruffled the branches of the big pine nearest her window sending a shower of white powder drifting gently through the air. Sunlight danced through the flakes like the lights of an enormous Christmas tree.

  Definitely not a working day.

  Immediately after breakfast Joanna walked the length of the driveway, tied on her out-of-fashion cross-country skis and set off down the road. At first her movements were stiff and jerky, signs of how much she was out of practice. But she soon settled into her stride, picked up the pace and glided, if not perfectly smoothly at least with what she hoped was a bit of grace, through the woods. The morning sun was warm and she was soon unzipping her jacket and stuffing woolen mittens into her pockets.

  She dusted a thin layer of snow off a large rock to make a place to sit while enjoying a snack of granola bars and orange juice. She closed her eyes and turned her face toward the welcome warmth of the sun. It was so pleasant, just sitting there enjoying the snowy silence, but all too soon the biting cold of the rock reached tendrils through her pants and into her bottom, forcing her to her feet. She glanced at her watch. She had been skiing for almost two hours.

  The return trip had barely begun before her arms and legs were complaining about the unaccustomed level of exercise. Joanna cursed herself. Any fool should know not to overdo it the first time out after so many years. A bank of thick, storm-tossed clouds blotted out the sun and an icy wind whipped against her cheeks. Her breathing was laborious and her fingers cold. Over the weeks since her fall she had almost forgotten about the sore wrist but the effort of digging the tips of her poles into the snow was becoming too much for the joint. Joanna was thoroughly miserable and swore at every laborious step.

  She pushed away an unwanted image of herself buried beneath a mound of snow on the side of the road, nothing but a ski pole sticking up, forgotten until spring thaw. In the back of her mind she could hear Wendy’s voice promising not to call to check up on her every day.

  With a tiny shiver of delight she heard a car coming up behind her. At last, a sign of human habitation. The rushing warmth of relief coursing through her body caught her by surprise; she had been determined to get as far away from civilization as she could. She did not expect to welcome it back with quite so much enthusiasm. She skied over to the side of the road to let them pass. Instead the car slid to a halt and Maude Mitchell leaned out.

  “You’re quite a way from home, Ms. Hastings. I think it’s getting colder, can I offer you a ride?”

  Joanna accepted gratefully, stuffing her skis and poles into the back seat of the woman’s battered old Chevy.

  They traveled in silence most of the way. Now that she was returning home in comfort, Joanna was amazed at how far she had skied.

  The old car clattered to a stop at the top of the hill overlooking her cabin. Maude switched off the engine and got out to help with the skis.

  “Well, thank you for the ride.”

  “It was no trouble.” Maude smiled but made no move to get back in her car.

  “Uh, would you like to come in for a cup of tea?” Joanna forced herself to remember her manners. Particularly as it would appear that she couldn’t exist entirely by herself up here, after all.

  “Why yes, that would be nice.”

  “You’ve made this place quite comfortable, Ms. Hastings,” Maude said as Joanna placed her big pottery teapot and a plate of cookies on the scarred old kitchen table. “I was last in here about fifteen years ago. Just when old John McKellan started to go funny. It was sure a dump then.”

  “It’s Joanna, please. How do you mean, funny?” Her interest was tweaked.

  “Funny in the head, I mean. Nice tea this. His wife died about thirty years ago. I remember her clearly. Everyone liked her. It was hard on old John, very hard, he adored her. Never got over her passing. He wasn’t interested in marrying again. Sent his son off to his sister in North Bay to raise. Just sat in this cabin all the day long.” Maude shook her head sadly at the memories. “He did a few odd jobs to raise enough money to go drinking at O’Reilly’s bar every Friday night. Other than that he didn’t have anything to do with anyone. Being alone isn’t good for a person. God didn’t mean for any human being to live alone. People need other people around them. Finally old John went a bit crazy.”

  Joanna shifted uncomfortably in her seat; she wanted to live alone. “Where is he now?”

  “Well, as I say he went a bit crazy. Didn’t mean no harm to anyone, I’m sure. We all just left him be for many years, but then he started creeping around in the woods at night carrying a lantern. Scared a few folks half to death. Rachel Parmeter looked out her bedroom window one night and there was John staring in at her. Of course Rachel made a big to-do of it. Told everyone how John ought to be locked up. Rachel never could pass up the chance to be the center of attention.”

  “And…”

  “Well, John’s son came up from the city and put old John into an old folks home in North Bay. Poor old John, he must miss the woods something awful.” Maude frowned at the thought. “It would sure be the death of me, to be taken out of these woods.”

  “You mean he’s still alive?”

  “Oh, yes. Last I heard. Stuck in some retirement home.” Her upper lip curled as if she could taste the words on her tongue. “Like a worn out old slipper. Somewhere in the city with a room overlooking a parking lot, I wouldn’t doubt. Not a fitting end for a proud man of the woods like John, let me tell you. John’s son used the cabin as a summer cottage for a few years and then decided to sell the cabin. ‘Course nobody would want to buy it. Too far away from the city, and no jobs around here anymore. So he cleaned it up.”

  “And rented it to me,” Joanna said.

  Maude peered into her teacup. “Any more tea in that pot, Joanna?”

  She rose and poured more water into the kettle to boil and refresh the pot. She remembered the feeling of being watched that first time she walked down the road, the strange scratching the night of the storm. No lost cat had ever appeared. “Uh, does he ever come up here any more? To have a look at the old place I mean.”

  Maude looked up, astonished at the question. “Of course not. They’re watched closely at those places I understand. And if he did get away he would have no way of getting here, too far to walk. You ski much?” She changed the subject abruptly.

  “No, not now.”

  “But you did, before?”

  “I was keen on cross-country once. I was on the team at university. Of course cross-country wasn’t anywhere near as popular then as it is now. I mean thirty years ago you rarely heard of anyone doing cross-country just for fun. My coa
ch said I had what it took. He said if I kept on training I might even be able to compete one day.” Joanna’s voice trailed off.

  “So, what happened?”

  “I got married.”

  “Were you sorry?”

  “Later I was. Of course at the time it was just so exciting to be getting married. But I have always wondered what I could have done. I wonder what it would be like to compete at the Olympics?” Joanna pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind. Better not to think about what might have been. She didn’t know why she was suddenly saying all this to a total stranger. Embarrassed at herself, she changed track abruptly. “I still have some work to do this afternoon. So if you don’t mind…”

  Maude failed to take the hint and nodded toward the now-boiling kettle. “Water’s ready. What sort of work do you do?”

  Joanna favored her right leg as she walked to the stove. She would be a physical wreck tomorrow. She poured hot water into the teapot and placed it on the table in front of her visitor. “I write computer documentation.”

  “Not romance novels?” Maude served herself another cup.

  Joanna grinned, sliding back into her chair. “Afraid not.”

  “Too bad.” The old woman glanced around the room with interest. “I notice that you have quite a fancy computer over there. Do you know a lot about computers?”

  “I know a lot about personal computers.”

  Maude stared thoughtfully into her tea for a few moments. The sound of wheels turning in the older woman’s head was almost audible.

  “My granddaughter lives with me. She isn’t doing well at school and I’m worried that she won’t be able to get into a university or community college anywhere.”

  “Is your granddaughter the girl you were with in the store that day?” Joanna gathered up the tea things and stacked them on the edge of the table. It was all she could do not to snatch the half-empty cup out of Maude’s liver-spotted hand. As soon as the conversation turned to the purple-haired girl, it was time for the guest to be gone.

  “Yes, that’s Tiffany. I would like her to learn something about computers. If she has any chance of getting anywhere in this life, she has to be able to work with computers. Least that’s what everyone says. I don’t know much about life outside of this little town myself any more.” Maude sipped the last of her tea. “Could you teach her?” she asked, her voice low. Afraid to ask.

  Joanna stared in horror. An image of the girl with her jeans falling around her hips, the hideous purple hair and the nose ring flashed into her mind. “No. No, I don’t teach. Sorry.”

  “I would pay whatever you wanted.”

  “No thank you.”

  “Would fifty dollars an hour be all right?”

  Joanna pushed her chair back and got to her feet. “I don’t teach and I don’t like teenagers. Thank you for the offer, but no.”

  This time Maude took the hint. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I would sure like to see Tiffany learn something useful. Let me jot down my phone number for you.” Maude dug in her large handbag for a pen and scrap of paper. “You should really have my number anyway. In case of an emergency, I mean. We all have to look out for our neighbors up here, you know.”

  Joanna accepted the scribbled phone number with a twinge of gratitude and nodded her thanks. She realized now that it probably wasn’t such a good idea to be totally isolated, as had been her original plan. A watchful neighbor would be nice, as long as she kept her distance.

  She watched Maude walk up the path to her car and felt bad, really bad. The old woman was trying to be kind, no doubt about that. Joanna wanted to run after her, crying out apologies for her rudeness. But that would involve explanations and Joanna was never one to confide her private feelings to anyone, and certainly not to a near-total stranger. The girl, Tamara? Tammy? Tiffany was a sharp reminder of Joanna’s own lost teenager and far too likely to probe at painful wounds that Joanna tried, and not very successfully at that, to keep buried very, very deep.

  After Maude left, Joanna limped stiffly into the kitchen to wash up the tea things. Her arms and left wrist were aching and her thighs felt like they were on fire. She pinned the scrap of paper with the phone number up on the corkboard over her desk, tossed the dishes into the sink and collapsed back into her chair.

  The morning’s sun had disappeared under a blanket of heavy black clouds. It was starting to snow again, not gentle fat flakes this time, but sharp brittle slashes of ice-filled pellets. The temperature in the cabin was dropping fast. Joanna struggled to her feet and lifted a log, which had assumed the approximate weight of her car, to put into the wood stove. It was the last piece of firewood. With a groan she struggled into her snow boots and coat. A set of rickety steps led down the back of the cabin. The building stood on legs of concrete blocks so that it rested about four feet above the ground. A low alcove underneath the main building provided storage space for firewood, an old boat motor, a shiny new barbecue which looked to have never been used (at least by anything bigger than the spiders that took up residence), the hot water tank, and many assorted odds and ends. It also provided a nice dry home for (as well as the spiders), field mice, chipmunks and Joanna dared not think what else. Bent double she clambered under the cabin and seized a heavy log, then another. Every step ached as Joanna backed out of the alcove and crawled up the stairs with her burden. Lugging her load of wood up the steps, she fondly remembered her comfortable, warm, cozy home in Toronto. Central heating, air-conditioning, everything right there at the push of a button. For a moment she considered flinging the log aside and piling all her belongings back into the car for a mad dash to civilization. The thought of Wendy and Elaine’s chorus of “I told you so” returned her to the task at hand.

  On her last trip out she stood too soon and with a teeth-rattling crack her head met the underside of the cabin floor. She swore furiously and kicked a piece of loose bark at a squirrel that dared to laugh at her. Now there was no part of her body that didn’t ache. She just hoped she had enough wood to get through the night.

  Chapter 4

  “Sorry, Joanna. It’s just that no one can make a decision around here anymore.” Fred Blanchard, Joanna’s old boss, sighed with frustration. “You know what things are like. Everyone who was worth anything in that department took a package and left long ago. All they do know is to strike committees to generate more paper. I’m doing what I can, you know that.”

  Joanna shifted the phone to her other shoulder and rubbed her arm. “Of course I know, Fred. It’s so difficult, not knowing if this is going to happen or not.”

  “I think that you would be better off not to count on getting the contract. It still might happen. I know that the job needs to be done. But Hell may well freeze over before that bunch come to a decision.”

  “Thanks anyway, Fred. I appreciate what you’re doing for me.”

  “Only because I know that you’re the best person for the job. Gotta run now, the first of today’s several meetings starts at eight. Seems like that’s all I do anymore, go to meetings. Maybe I should come up there and join you, eh?”

  Joanna laughed. “Too far away from the tennis clubs and the espresso bars for you, Fred.”

  “Bye now.”

  Joanna resisted the urge to fling the phone against the wall, instead placing it back in the cradle gently. Fred was, as always, charming, friendly, helpful, but she knew from long acquaintance that his veneer had as much substance as a single drifting snowflake. Fred did absolutely nothing that was not in his own best interest. It worried her, leaving her prospects in his hand, but as far as she could see, she had no choice.

  When she left the company she had been all but promised the contract to write the documentation associated with a huge project now underway. It was a large job and there wasn’t anyone else with more knowledge of how the company’s computer systems worked. Joanna sighed. “All but” just doesn’t cut it in the business world.

  She picked up the printouts of the l
ast revision of the home-accounting manual. It was looking good. She should be ready to e-mail the finished product to her agency later this week. Then what? She needed to make money, and soon. She didn’t have another contract lined up yet. If she didn’t get something she would be in trouble.

  Of course she could consider the teaching offer from Maude. Fifty dollars an hour was extraordinary. She wouldn’t have thought that Maude had that kind of money. This must be some awful kid. She made note of the phone number posted beside the window.

  Maude was delighted to hear from her. “I’ll bring Tiffany over this afternoon, and you two can talk about what you want to do and set up some sort of schedule. Would two o’clock be all right?”

  “Yes, two is good. Uh, you did say fifty dollars an hour?”

  “Is that enough?” Maude sounded anxious.

  “It’s fine. See you at two.”

  The prospect of some real money coming in helped to put Joanna’s mind at rest and she made good progress on finishing up the latest section of the manual while waiting for her two o’clock appointment.

  Right on the dot she heard the sound of the old car turning into the driveway. The visitors’ boots crunched on the snow as they climbed the steps to the porch. As she reached to open the door, Joanna heard the whining.

  “This is soooo stupid, Grandma. Computers are for boys and losers. What a waste of time.”

  Joanna threw open the door. Maude smiled brightly-her granddaughter pouted. The girl was still dressed in the uniform of discontented kids everywhere: massively oversized blue pants, heavy, black, Doc Martin lace-up boots and a huge flannel shirt. She was tiny, not much more than five feet tall and, from what anyone could see through the baggy clothes, thin and small-boned. Her winter coat was unbuttoned and her hands were already turning red with the cold. It was not cool, Joanna knew, to ever wear anything at all sensible such as mittens, scarves or a hat. At least, not until the temperature plummeted to at least minus 40 degrees. Her long hair hung straight across her face and down her back; it was dyed a rather amazing shade of purple. Dull brown roots peeked through at the top of her head. Her nail polish was black with silver sparkles. But her eyes were bright and her complexion was clear, with only the nose ring to mar the surface. Her arms were crossed tightly across her thin chest, her shoulders stiff.