Page 36 of His Wounded Heart

“How do you want to do this?” I ask him. “Do you want to start with Bertha? She’s the one who lives the furthest out; that way we drive the furthest up while the weather is still stable, and we start down the mountain before the icy rain hits.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea.”

The look of admiration on Simon’s face shouldn’t make me this happy. So what if he’s impressed? It shouldn’t matter.

But it does.

“Thanks. Hopefully we can find that friend of a friend too, and get him in out of the cold.”

“That is the hope.” He smiles. “Let’s get going.”

I grab my things from him, which includes my purse containing the coordinates for each person’s home, along with the satellite GPS tracker that Drake left for me.

When I get outside and stand in front of his passenger side door I realize it’s even higher than Zarek’s Jeep.

“Need a little help?”

I shiver as he whispers the question into my ear.

I turn my head and find us eye to eye, damn near lip to lip. “Are you absolutely sure you want to go, Trenda? This might not go well.”

My mouth is dry, so I nod.

He reaches around me and opens the door, then boosts me into the passenger seat. “Buckle up.” He closes the door and in a flash he’s in the driver seat starting the engine. “Okay, Miss Navigator, where to?”

We’ve been on the backroads for almost an hour before I see Bertha’s cabin. Smoke is coming out of her chimney, and she still has a Christmas wreath on her front door. Somebody has recently loaded her up—there are at least two cords of wood underneath her lean-to next to the house.

We’re about a hundred yards from her front door when it opens, and there stands Bertha with a shotgun. I can’t hear what she’s saying.

“Better stop the truck,” I tell Simon, but he’s already in the process of doing it.

When we stop, I push open the passenger door. “Let me go talk to her.”

“And how are you going to get out of the truck? A parachute?” He opens his door. “Hold on while I help you down.”

I can hear Bertha now.

“State your name and your business.”

“My name is Simon Clark. Trenda Avery is with me,” he says as he rounds the front of the truck to get to my side. “Bernie Faulks is in the hospital.”

“Are you sure this woman really needs help?” He whispers the question as his big hands wrap around my waist and lift me out of the truck. He immediately pushes back my seat and pulls my poofy jacket out of the backseat. “Put this on. It’s not raining yet, so you don’t need the windbreaker.”

He was right, it was freezing cold at this elevation. I’m pretty sure my nose is frozen enough it’s going to break off if I touch it. After he helps me on with the coat, he grabs my gloves, scarf, and hat.

“What’s taking y’all so long?” Bertha yells.

I realize we’re out of Bertha’s sight behind the open passenger door. I step away, pulling Simon with me. He catches on and closes the door.

“Just dressing Trenda for the cold,” he calls out. I glare at him for making me sound like a child.

“That’s mighty nice of you. Do you mean to tell me she finally found herself a man?”

I shove his hands away as he’s wrapping the scarf around my neck and start marching toward the cabin. “What do you mean finally found a man? If you don’t need one, I don’t need one,” I call out to Bertha.

She lowers her gun and smiles. “There’s a difference, Girly. I had the best of men when I married Brian Conners. No need trying to replace a man like that after he died. Is Bernie okay? Did the gout get him?”

I tromp up to her porch, and she rests the shotgun against her house and opens her arms to give me a hug. Bertha gives the best hugs.