Christmas with Her Lost-and-Found Lover
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Ann McIntosh
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CHAPTER ONE
DR. ELISE VAN HAGAN got the callout at seven thirty in the morning, just after coming back in from shoveling the side garden so Baxter, her golden retriever, could do his business. And then, with characteristic efficiency, she got ready and was out the door in just under ten minutes.
This despite the fact it had been ages since she’d last put on her rescue gear, her stomach was in knots, and her hands were shaking.
Tom Harding, head of the Banff volunteer search and rescue team, had been the one to call.
“There’s been a barn collapse at Trail’s End, and unfortunately Ben Sullivan was inside when it happened. Can you get up there and assess the situation for us? It’ll take at least thirty minutes to get the team mobilized, and the helicopter pilot has final say on whether he’ll even fly in this weather or not.”
A small part of her was shouting she was the last person who should go. After all, she hadn’t been on a rescue for almost a year. What possible help could she render, when she was out of practice and frankly terrified?
But she’d agreed, as Tom must’ve known she would. She was a doctor and a highly trained search and rescue team member, albeit now retired, so there was never any real debate about whether she would or not. Those, along with the thought of what Janice Sullivan, Ben’s mother, must be going through, were all factors that galvanized her to push past her fears.
She didn’t know how she’d react if something similar happened to her own son, Jeevan. Knowing the mental and emotional toll his eight-month research trip to Indonesia and Borneo had taken on her, she could only imagine the hell the other woman was going through.
For Elise, memories of past Christmas tragedies already marred the season. She could only hope this incident would have a happy ending.
The only questions regarding her capabilities were within her own mind, and she forced herself not to think about them but concentrate on getting to the site as quickly as possible. Letting her attention wander while she was riding her snowmobile through the gray predawn light and towing Baxter, safely secured in his enclosed sled, could lead to disaster. Especially on a gloomy morning, with sunrise still an hour or so away.
Of course, normally the fire rescue squad would have been called out under the circumstances, but there had been a blizzard in the Banff area the night before. Being on a rural roadway, neither Elise’s house nor Trail’s End—a husky rescue and dogsledding training camp—had been ploughed out yet. Therefore, Tom had been called on to see if the search and rescue squad could assist, but there were issues there, too.
The team on duty usually assembled at eight in the morning during the ski season, to be on call, so they would have to come in to base before being dispatched.
And if the pilot refused to fly until after the icy mist hanging low over the mountains burned off, there would be an additional delay.
Even coming as close as possible and then riding in on snowmobiles would take a long time to coordinate.
So Elise was it, until additional hands could be found and brought on board.
She just hoped there was something she could do—preferably that didn’t involve actually going under any snow.
Instantly the memory came back, causing her to ease back on the throttle and slow the snowmobile until she got her anxiety under control. She still dreamed about it some nights: the roar of the avalanche, the sensation of losing her footing, falling and sliding. Being tumbled over and consumed by the snow. Encased, as though it planned on keeping her entombed forever.
Resolutely she pushed it all back, taking deep breaths, mentally distancing herself from the images. There was no trail to follow, and she had to have her head on straight so as not to crash. A blustery, post-blizzard wind was blowing, too, causing skirls of snow that further obscured her vision and stung her cheeks.
Trail’s End property abutted her own but was over a ridge, and Elise had to avoid the trees and deeper drifts as she made her way up the side of the hill behind her property. Getting to the top, she paused, scanning the valley below.
It was still too dark to see much, but almost directly below her was the lodge Janice Sullivan lived in, which also housed the sled dog teams that came to train there. That was already lit up—down to the Christmas tree in the front window—and clearly visible, as were the two blocks of kennels, separated from the house by a field. The veterinary building, which Elise knew was behind the kennels, was a gray shadow in the snow, but just beyond, she could see lights bobbing around and hear voices.
That must be the damaged barn.
Aware of time ticking away, she plotted a path down the hill and set off as quickly as she dared.
As she neared the collapsed building, Janice ran to meet her, and Elise’s heart ached in sympathy at the sight of the other woman’s tear-ravaged face. Turning off the engine, Elise swung her leg over the seat and found herself engulfed in Janice’s shaking arms.
“Oh, Elise. Thank God you’re here. Please help him.”
“I’ll do my best, Jan.” After giving the other woman a tight squeeze, Elise gently extricated herself, so as to take off her goggles and then release Baxter from the sled. “Did you see what happened?”
“No, I was in the kennels when I heard the crash and ran out. He...he’s buried in there, and he isn’t answering when we shout. He had a couple of dogs with him, and we’ve heard one barking, so we know at least one is still in there.”
Finally getting the golden retriever free from the harness keeping him secured to the sled, Elise detached her rescue kit and medical bag. Baxter shook himself, then cast an alert glance at Elise, waiting for instructions.
“The back of the barn looks to be still standing. Is there a door or any windows in that wall?” she asked as she got the disaster response litter off the side of the sled. Putting the bags on it, she grabbed the attached strap.
“No,” Janice replied, and they both started trotting toward the building, Baxter at Elise’s side. “Only at the front, where the roof came down. It really was just a storage shed, with some old equipment and overflow supplies.”
Three men were near the barn, all holding shovels. Two were looking toward the approaching women, while the third was stooping down, as though trying to see through the debris and snow into the damaged building. Something about the third man’s posture, the shape of him—even through his snow gear—caused a shiver of recognition, but Elise ignored it, fully in rescue mode now.
“Tom told us not to do anything until you got here,” Janice continued as they neared the men. “We were going to try to dig him out ourselves.”
“I’m glad you listened. Digging willy-nilly could make the situation worse.”
It was clear the front, left section of the barn’s roof had collapsed inward, probably from the weight of the snow dumped by the blizzard. As the layers of snow were deposited, one on top of the other, they’d compressed, forming a solid mass. What had slid off and remained in front of the damaged barn wasn’t a drift, but more like a jumbled heap of snow blocks.
Anyone under it at the time of the collapse would probably be seriously injured, if not dead. Time definitely was of the essence.
“I think I can see a gap, just there.” The man who was bending down pointed. “That may be the way in, if we can widen it.”
Elise froze, not from the words but from the voice, at once both familiar and strange. Deep and rhythmic, with the flavor of Trinidad in the way some words dipped and swung, it was one she’d never thought she would hear again and couldn’t believe she was actually hearing.
It must be a mistake, a cosmic trick.
Then the man looked up and her heart stopped, while cold flashed sickeningly through her entire body. That icy stream had nothing to do with the weather, and everything to do with the dark eyes peering at her so intently.
It was him: Rohan.
And yet it wasn’t.
Not the way she remembered him anyway. Older, which would make sense. But the features she could see—those between his cap and the scarf pulled up around his lower face—were ever so slightly askew, out of alignment. Yet it was so close a resemblance that, for an instant, she was thrown back in time to the first moment she’d seen him, in a club in Cambridge, Ontario.
He’d been so beautiful, his dark eyes flashing with amusement, his smile lighting his entire face. The first time their gazes met, the sexual attraction had been instantaneous and undeniable.
Just thinking about it now turned the ice in her veins to a wave of heat and caused a shiver of awareness to skitter along her spine.
Then she pulled herself together.
It couldn’t be Rohan. He’d been dead for over twenty-seven years.
Also, there was not even a hint of recognition in his solemn, slightly questioning eyes.
Even in the predawn gloom, the similarities were so striking that the chance of the two men not being related were astronomical. Now wasn’t the time to ask, but she might, later, after having a chance to think it through. Rohan’s family had made it plain they wanted nothing to do with her, or with Jeevan.
Some things were better left in the past, where they couldn’t foul the present.
Whoever this man was had no bearing on her mission to get to Ben as fast as she could, so she put all the questions and speculation aside, although her pulse still pounded from the unexpected encounter.
Grabbing her flashlight, she stooped beside him so as to see what he was pointing out.
“It looks like a clear space going into the structure,” he said, taking her hand to guide the high-powered beam slightly to the right, to a jagged break in the mounds of snow. The unexpected touch of his fingers, even through their gloves, almost made her drop the flashlight. “That’s the side that doesn’t seem to have fallen all the way in.”
“If the left wall gave way, rather than the roof itself, the trusses could have formed a pocket,” she replied. “We need to get a path or tunnel cut to that section of wall, but we have to be careful.”
“How do you want to proceed?”
“Let’s just get going, Dr. van Hagan.” One of the other men came forward, shovel in hand, scowling. “All this shilly-shallying is wasting time.”
Both Elise and the man she’d been speaking to rose and moved to intercept the oncoming figure, but it was Elise who stepped into his path first.
Meeting his gaze, she said in a level, calm tone, “I’m trained in search and rescue, and I’m in charge here until my commander arrives. If you have a problem following my orders, I suggest you leave the vicinity.”
“Don’t be an ass, Trevor,” Jan said. “Elise knows what she’s doing, and if you muck this up and Ben gets hurt, I’ll have your hide.”
Trevor seemed set to argue, then just huffed and stepped back.
Elise turned slightly so she was addressing everyone. “I need to take a better look at the building. Baxter, search.”
The golden immediately started up the snow pile, working back and forth, and Elise stepped back and to the side, until she could shine her light at what remained of the roof. Besides the conversation among the people outside and the croak of a raven in the distant trees, it had been silent. But just then, she heard a dog begin to howl from inside the building, the eerie sound raising gooseflesh along her arms and making the hair at her nape prickle.
The sooner she could get in there, the better.
Rohan Khan watched Elise step back from the building to get a better vantage point. Simultaneously he listened to the urgent, whispered conversation going on behind him.
“Are you sure she knows what to do? She’s doing a lot of nothing right now.”
“What do you want her to do, Trevor? Just barge through and risk bringing the rest of the barn down on Ben?” The anger in Jan’s voice was clear. “Give her a chance to figure out the best way to get in there. We’re lucky to have her here, both as a rescuer and an emergency doctor. If anyone can help Ben, it’s her.”
Rohan tuned them out, looking instead at the golden retriever up on the mound of snow. It was working along the side of the barn now, picking its way through the hard clumps of icy snow, nose down, tail up, the picture of total concentration.
The crunch of footsteps behind him alerted him to her approach, but she went swiftly by him to where the dog now sat, looking expectantly down at his mistress. When she immediately began to climb up the snowbank, Rohan instinctively moved to stand behind her, although he didn’t know whether it was to help or to catch her if she fell.
She went up the slippery mass as sure-footed as a mountain goat, and Rohan heaved a silent sigh of relief when she got to the top.
Something about this woman had caught and held his attention from the first moment he’d looked up and found her staring back. He’d frozen, captured by the expression of shock on her face. Her pale eyes gleamed as they tracked over his face, and for the first time in years Rohan was aware of his scars and had to stop himself from covering the left side of his face. He’d been unable to make out the exact color of her eyes. Perhaps an icy blue, which would fit with the way she’d then shaken her head and turned away, as though dismissing his presence.
It had left him wondering what it was about him that had so surprised her. Was it his accent, or the darkness of his skin? While Calgary was a more multicultural city, maybe Banff residents weren’t used to seeing someone like him among them. Or perhaps it was something as simple as her being aware that he was a stranger.
Whatever it was, that look she’d given him had garnered his full attention, and now he stared up at her as she surveyed the building from the high ground.
When she turned and started back down, calling the dog to follow, he automatically held up his hand, offering assistance.
It was ignored; she slid and slipped down the slope of snow, then jumped to the ground.
“There are no breaks in the roof here.” She tried to sound matter-of-fact, but Rohan thought there was a slight tremor in her voice. “I’ll have to get in through that gap you noticed. Luckily, it looks like there’s the least amount of snow there, but we’ll have to be extremely careful. This side of the roof is leaning on the snowpack at the front.”
He nodded but found he was doing so to her back, as she’d already walked away. By the time he rejoined the others, she was saying, “Jan, call Tom and tell him I’m going in, and ask about an ETA for the team. You, and you—” she pointed to Rohan and Nathan “—come and help me dig.”
“Hey, what about me?” Trevor growled but got a bland glance in return.
“You need to stand back and watch what’s left of the roofline. If you see it start to shift or any snow sliding off, even a little, you shout so we can stop. This pile of snow is holding up the rest of the roof.”
Under her direction, they widened the crack a little at a time, inch by inch, creating a tunnel.
“Don’t go any wider,” Elise directed, when Nathan started digging around the edges, probably to make it easier to go deeper. “I can get the litter through at that width, but we have to maintain the integrity of the pack.”
Rohan lay on his belly and worked his way forward. The sun was coming up, and he thought the snow at the end of the crack looked lighter, almost ethereal, and realized he was right when a chunk fell off ahead of him, and he could see straight into what was left of the barn.
“I’m through,” he called.
“Then back out,” came the reply. “Quickly.”
He did as she demanded and wasn’t even on his feet when she was on her stomach and going forward. She’d tied a rope to her waist, and at the end was the litter holding her bags, but she waited until she was through the tunnel to pull it in behind her.
Rohan knelt to help feed it through, and before it began to move, he could hear her breath sawing in and out of her throat, as though she’d run a mile, rather than crawled three meters.
“Tom says they can’t get here for at least another twenty minutes,” Jan called so Elise could hear. “The copter is grounded until the fog lifts.”
There was no answer except for a skitter of sound, and he couldn’t stop himself from bending low to try to see what was happening.
He caught a flash of light as she picked her way through the rubble, then it disappeared.
Rohan’s heart was pounding, and it seemed he wasn’t the only one concerned, as her dog came and sat beside him, bending to look into the tunnel, too. Baxter whined so softly the sound hardly reached Rohan’s ears. Reaching out, he ruffled the hair on the dog’s chest.
“It’ll be okay, boy,” he said, hoping he was telling the truth.
