Jack Frost

       Monica hugged herself tighter as she crunched through the snow and tried to hold back tears.  Tall evergreens towered over her, watching her slow passage through their icy domain.  Every now and again the moon shone out from behind dark storm clouds.  Occasional flurries muted the nighttime sounds of the forest so that it seemed to be holding its breath and all Monica could hear was her clothes sliding together and her footsteps in the snow.  A frigid wind picked up and blew freezing air straight through her body, in spite of her many layers.  She was wearing thick waterproof overalls, boots, gloves, and jacket that she had gotten during a skiing trip her mother had taken her on for her thirtieth birthday, but the cold kept creeping in.  The sun had set hours ago and the temperature, already in the single digits around noon, had dropped drastically since then.  Her ears had long ago lost feeling despite the thick toboggan and earmuffs she had on.  Monica couldn't feel her toes or fingers except for a dull ache.  Her eyes were burning and dry from the icy wind and her nose wouldn't stop running.  She was miserable, alone, and very very lost.
       This solitary hiking trip had been decided upon the day before after Monica had decided she was fed up with all the stupid people in her life.  It seemed all they wanted to do was nag, complain, and say idiotic things.  She was done with them all.  Her resentment had been building up and festering for a long time now.  Two phone calls finally pushed her over the edge and made her feel like she needed to escape.  The first was from her overbearing mother who told her how well her sister, Kathy, was doing both in her job and her family life.  Kathy had recently been promoted and their mother wouldn't shut up about it.  Her sister was also pregnant again-this made the third-while Monica hadn't been out on a real date in over six months.   It was the same old thing: Why wasn't Monica married yet?  When could her mother count on seeing more grandchildren?  She must not be giving her job her all if she still hadn't been promoted in the seven years she had been working for the company.  It drove Monica insane!  She didn't want a bloody husband to clean up after and she was very happy with her current job, thankyouverymuch!  The second call, the straw that broke the camel's back, was from drunken Uncle Ted.  He hadn't even said hello when she picked up the phone.  Instead, he slurred and fumbled around for words, not letting her speak.  Finally, after an excruciatingly round about rant on Uncle Ted's part, he had asked her to lend him some money-again.  He had a really stellar thing going with his pal Johnson and with a little backing, they could make it big.  Monica had stopped believing in her Uncle's enthusiastic speeches on investments years ago.  He inevitably gave up on it and drank away his salary, shamelessly asking around for funding when the next fleeting opportunity came along.  She was sick of it.  She was sick of her whole stupid family and most of her coworkers too.  She needed an escape.  She needed somewhere to be alone for a while and just focus on herself.  That's why she decided to go hiking in the mountains a few miles from the small town she lived in.
       Monica wanted to be totally alone without any annoying reminders of what awaited her back home, so she left that cold Saturday morning without telling a soul and decided to leave her cellphone behind.  She was bitterly regretting that decision now.  It was dangerous to hike alone, especially in winter, but she hadn't planned on going too far.  However, she also hadn't planned for the snow storm.  Now her stupid impulsiveness was going to get her killed.  All her relatives would gossip and bicker at her funeral, no doubt.  She could see it now: Uncle Ted would embarrass himself by getting drunk at the wake with Aunt Brenda, his sister, causing a big scene by yelling at him.  Kathy would come with her husband and parcel of kids and have her swollen belly cooed over by the ladies of the family.  Mother would doubtlessly feel relieved that at least her favorite daughter hadn't been the one to die.
       Monica caught herself on a sapling as she tripped over a hidden rock in the snow.  She pushed her bitter thoughts to the back of her mind.  She had to think about surviving and finding her way back.  Maybe if she found a tall enough tree to climb, she could get an idea of where she was.  Encouraged by having some sort of plan, Monica picked up her pace and began looking for the right evergreen.  After about ten minutes, she settled on a sturdy pine that seemed to be taller than the ones around it.  The climb proved very slow going.  The limbs were pressed close together, which meant Monica always had something to hang on to, but it also meant she had to wriggle and squeeze through branches of oozing sap and rough bark.  The trees that covered this mountainside were exclusively evergreens, otherwise she would have chosen a more practical climbing tree.  Her numb fingers made it difficult to grasp the limbs and Monica clenched her teeth in frustration and pain when she kept clumsily hitting her aching digits.  Once she almost fell when a branch she stepped on broke away under her foot and went tumbling down to earth.  Luckily she had a firm grip on the limb above her and was able to hold herself up long enough to carefully place her boot on a sturdier surface.  After what seemed like an eternity, Monica finally reached the top.  There was still more pine that stretched upward to the dark sky of roiling clouds, but the branches further up would not support her weight.  She looked out into the night, tired but triumphant, and saw...her stomach dropped.  Everywhere as far as she could see, were trees.  The forest surrounded her on all sides like a vast, deadly ocean.  And she was stranded in the middle of it with little hope of rescue.  After all, no one would even know she was missing until she didn't show up for work Monday.  She could be dead by then.
       Monica eyes welled up with hot tears, but she couldn't cry here.  She had to get down first, high up in a tree was not a smart place to break down.  Her nose ran furiously on the way down and she had to fight to hold back her despair during her descent.  She kept concentrating on where her hands and feet should go so that she wouldn't have time to think about her dreadfully hopeless situation. 
      When she finally dropped down onto pine needles and solid ground, huge, loud sobs racked Monica's body.  How could she have been so bloody stupid?  She didn't have her cell phone, no one knew where she was, and she hadn't even brought a GPS or adequate supplies.  Monica plopped down on the cold, hard ground beneath the tree and hugged her knees to her chest.  The pine she was sitting under was thick and healthy, so there was a ring under the tree where the snow could not reach.  Through her tears, Monica noted that it was beginning to snow harder.  What had been the occasional flurry was now gaining in intensity and was moving toward full on blizzard.  Fat flakes of snow and ice sped past her sanctuary horizontally, driven forward by the cutting, relentless wind.  The wind picked up even further and blasted collected snow from the trees all around.
       Monica had stopped crying now.  It was useless and only made her nose run more.  Now she stared out at the snow storm despondently, still hugging her knees to her chest.  After about half an hour she scooted back through the pine needles to lean against the trunk of the tree.  There was nothing she could do in such a ferocious storm, so she might as well resign herself to waiting it out in the shelter of the great pine.  Monica tilted her head back until it rested on the trunk and put squeezed her gloved hands between her thighs to keep them warm.  She closed her eyes and waited.
       Some time later there was the unmistakable sound of crunching footsteps in the snow very near her tree.  Monica sat up, heart pounding in equal parts fear and hope.  Briefly she imagined being confronted with a bear or a wolf and being mauled to death in the snow.  As boots came into view, her fears vanished and she crawled toward them as quickly as she could, desperate joy flooding her mind.
       "Help!"  Monica cried out in a voice turned croaky in the freezing cold.  "I'm in here!"
       A figure bent down in front of her hiding place and a face ducked under the branches to look at her.  The face belonged to a man, a wonderful man, who was going to save her.  As Monica scrambled toward him, he opened his mouth to speak.
       "Ma'am, do you need help?  What's your name?"  His voice took on the tone of a worried member of a rescue crew.
       Monica's body flooded with relief and she started crying again, overwhelmed by being rescued from almost certain death.  She closed the distance between them and clung to his knees like a small child.  The man let her cry for a moment, then stepped back from the tree and pulled her to her feet.  He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.  Monica was happy to be allowed to compose herself in the stranger's kind embrace before leaning back and telling her his name and that she was lost. 
       "My cabin's not far from here," he informed her.  "We'll go there and see about getting you warmed up.  You can stay with me as long as it takes for the storm to pass.  Then we'll get you home, okay?"  Monica nodded, pushing back fresh tears, then she let him lead her through the storm toward safety.  After they had trudged through the deep snow and battled the fierce wind for half an hour, Monica saw a warm glow among the trees.  Shortly afterward she could make out the shape of a small cabin with light pouring out from its windows like a beacon in the night.  Monica stumbled in her haste to get into the warmth and shelter of her rescuer's home but he caught her by the arm before she could fall.  The pair stepped up onto the covered porch of the cabin.  The heavily bundled man swung open the door and ushered her inside before stepping across the threshold himself and closing the wooden door behind him.  What followed was a complicated ritual of unwrapping, unzipping, and unbuttoning thick layers of winter clothes.  Monica had trouble undressing herself since she could barely feel her fingers, so her rescuer helped her after he had taken off most of his layers.  She stood complacent as a child as he helped her slip out of her heavy coat and step out of her boots and overalls.  Near the end, as the warmth of the cabin began to revive her, she started to feel embarrassed.  After she was down to her jeans and long sleeved shirt, she stood awkwardly by the door and watched the man sit down on a hand carved bench by the door to unlace his boots.  He looked up briefly when he noticed her studying him.
      "You can sit by the fire and wrap yourself up in some blankets while I finish up," he said.  "Blankets are in the chest behind the couch.  I'll fix up some soup and hot cocoa when I'm done."
       Monica nodded mutely, went over to the chest he had indicated, and pulled out two thick quilts.  She took her bundle with her to the couch in front of the large stone fireplace, eased down on the cushions, and draped the blankets around her.  Her face, fingers, and toes were still numb and they were starting to sting from the transition of the freezing cold outside to the warmth of the cabin.  The fire in the hearth had burned low but still radiated enough heat for her to feel it on her cold face.  Clattering noises came from across the room where the kitchen was situated.  Monica stared into the flickering flames as they licked over the charred wood and listened to her savior open and close cabinets and start up the stove.  She was broken from her blank staring by a hand holding out a steaming cup to her.  She jumped slightly because she had not heard him approach, and then gingerly accepted the mug of hot cocoa.
       "Careful, it's still very hot," the man cautioned.  He placed a bowl on the worn coffee table in front of her.  "Chicken noodle soup-also quite hot."
       Monica cradled her cup and gently blew into it as she looked over at the man sitting next to her on the couch.  He was absorbed in cooling his own drink and was not looking at her, giving her free range to study him.  She hadn't looked at him closely since he pulled her out from under the tree.  He was a very handsome man with a strong but lean build, dark wavy hair, and stubble running across his strong jaw.  He was wearing a woolen red and blue plaid button up shirt with a collar and worn but clean jeans.  His hands were rough and stained in the way of all men who do manual labor for a living.  No amount of scrubbing would ever erase the dark stains running through the cracks of his hands.  He finally noticed her staring and smiled at her, revealing beautiful straight white teeth.  His eyes were icy blue and lent a gentleness to his face.
       "What's your name?" Monica asked, surprised she still didn't know the name of the man who had rescued her.
       "Jack Frost" his crooked grin was playful and his eyes slightly mischievous.  "So tell me: how did you end up out here at night in this wretched storm?"
       "No, really, what is your name?"
       "My first name is actually Jack," he replied, taking a sip of hot cocoa.  "The last name's Connor.  It sometimes feels like it should be Frost, though, since I live out here by myself.  You know, the snow never completely melts here.  All year round it stays cold enough for snow to hide out in these mountains."
       His voice made Monica feel oddly peaceful and she felt herself relaxing, unaware that she had been tense before.  "I decided to go hiking early today and I had intended to be back home long before now, but I got lost."  Monica fixated on the milky brownness of her hot chocolate in embarrassment.  "I didn't tell anyone where I was going or bring my cell phone because I just needed to get away from everyone.  I felt that if I didn't get out by myself for a while I would snap.  It's stupid, I know.  I should have told someone for safety's sake, but I was at the end of my rope and wasn't thinking clearly."  She hazarded a quick glance up to see Jack's reaction to her story.  For some reason she desperately wanted him to think well of her and she was afraid that he would be disgusted by her stupidity.  To her surprise, Jack smiled at her sympathetically.
       "I know how you feel," he replied, voice faintly sad.  "One after another people I trusted and relied on kept letting me down.  I began to grow bitter and turn into something hateful that frankly scared me.  I didn't like what I was becoming, so I left behind all the pettiness and vice of man to live out here."  Jack paused, a faraway look in his eyes as he stared into the fire.  "Here there is only nature.  I know what to expect from these mountains.  Life here is as treacherous as it is beautiful but I live in peace on my own terms.  No one expects anything from me and I am only answerable to myself.  There is a wonderful freedom in that."
       Monica's heart lifted and she could feel a smile creep onto her face at Jack's speech.  The thoughts he was expressing resonated with her.  Here was a man who shared her frustration with humanity and all its frailty.  Here was a man who had taken it upon himself to leave the world of modern society behind and live a life of freedom.  Suddenly Monica realized she did not want to leave this haven in the mountains.  If he allowed it, maybe she could stay here, at least for a little while, to escape the life awaiting her at home.
       She set her mug on the wooden coffee table in front of her and lightly touched Jack's arm.  Broken from his reverie, he tore his gaze away from the fireplace to look into Monica's hopeful face.  Her brows knitted in nervous apprehension as her eyes pleaded with him to accept her.  "Please, Jack, let me stay with you," her words tumbled out in a breathy whoosh as if she had just gotten the air knocked out of her lungs by some strong impact.  Before he could reply, Monica hurried on, voice gaining in strength. "I promise I won't cause you any trouble.  I want to get away from it all too and live like you do.  I want to be my own woman and not have to deal with anyone else."  Jack opened his mouth to speak but she quickly jumped in again before he could make a sound.  "Except you, of course, but I like you and I think we're a perfect match.  We could have a good life here with no one to bother us.  I could help you with anything you needed done.  I promise you won't regret it."  Monica bit her lip nervously, hoping she hadn't made a fool of herself by prattling on. 
       Jack stared at her for a long moment, then looked back at the fire and smiled softly.  Without looking, he reached over and covered her tiny hand with his large, rough one.  His fingers wrapped around hers and his thumb began a sweet, caressing sweep across the back of Monica's hand.  Monica's face flushed and her heart thumped wildly in her ears.  She had a squirmy feeling in her stomach that was unfamiliar yet not unpleasant.  After a few moments, Jack finally spoke.
       "You are welcome to stay as long as you like," he said, as he turned toward her on the couch to face her.  "I hope I'm not being too forward, but I feel a connection with you like I've never experienced before."  He chuckled and his mouth twisted into a wry smile.  "I know next to nothing about you, and yet I feel like I know who you are.  I'd like you to stay and share this life with me.  I would love to learn all there is to know about the person behind the beautiful face."
       Monica flicked her gaze down to his hand on top of hers, momentarily unable to meet Jack's penetrating, icy blue eyes.  This was absurd, her sensible side cried out.  She had only just met this man, and now she wanted to live with him.  There had to be something wrong about that, and yet...she felt like she was in love with Jack already.  Monica pictured herself cooking in the kitchen, humming merrily as she listened to the sound of Jack splitting logs outside.  She imagined him walking in, handsome and smelling of the forest, and coming over to kiss her as she stirred the contents of the pot on the stove.  Her heart flipped pleasantly in her chest and she couldn't help grinning at the thought. 
       "So, will you?"  Jack asked, his voice carrying the same pleading note that Monica's had only moments before.  "Will you stay with me?"
       Monica looked back up at his face and gave him a huge smile.  Suddenly she was absolutely certain about what she wanted.  She was more certain about this than she had ever been about anything else in her entire life.  "Yes, I would love nothing more than to be here with you," she replied.
       Jack leaned forward and kissed her lingeringly on the forehead.  He then scooted closer to her and gently pulled her into his arms.  Monica snuggled closer to his side, contentment settling over her like a warm blanket.  They sat in silence as Monica watched the snapping flames through half-lidded eyes.  The fire had died down so low that she could no longer feel its heat.  Monica shivered and pulled the quilts she had gotten from the chest on top of her.  There also seemed to be a draft somewhere.  They would have to fix that soon.  She snuggled closer to Jack, trying to soak up heat from his body.  Even with the thick quilts, the cold seeped through and raised goose pimples on her arms.  Monica considered asking Jack to put more wood on the fire and get more blankets, but the words wouldn't come.  She could feel herself drifting off into sleep.  Blackness closed in from the edges of her vision and her eyelids became almost too heavy to hold open.  She wanted to sleep, but she kept fighting weakly to stay awake with a feeling of vague, inexplicable unease.  Monica stopped shivering, but it was still so very, very cold.  It shouldn't be this cold, she thought, as she felt her consciousness fading.  Moments later the blackness enveloped her world and pulled her under as she finally surrendered herself to sleep.