before they froze.
“Mind if I use your phone?” Dante asked. “I need to let the base know I’m alive.”
Marge tucked a blanket around Emma. “Olaf, hand him the phone.”
Olaf gave Dante a cordless phone. Dante tapped the numbers into the keypad and held the phone to his ear and frowned. “I’m not getting a dial tone.”
“Sorry. I forget, without power, this one is useless.” Olaf took the phone and replaced it in the powerless charger. “Let me check the one in the kitchen.”
A minute later, he returned. “The phone lines are down. Must have been knocked out along with the electricity in the storm last night.”
“I need to get back to Grand Forks. My people will have sent up a search and rescue unit.”
“I can get you as far as Devil’s Lake,” Olaf said. “But then I’ll have to turn back to make sure I get home to Mamma before nightfall.”
“Don’t you worry about me. I can take care of myself,” Marge insisted.
“We don’t want to put you in danger,” Emma said.
“No, we don’t,” Dante agreed. “If we could get as far as Devil’s Lake, we can find someone heading to Grand Forks and catch a ride with them.”
“I’d take you all the way to Grand Forks, but with the snow on the road and the wife here, keeping the house warm by burning firewood...”
“We wouldn’t want you to leave her alone that long,” Dante assured Olaf. “It’ll be a long enough drive to Devil’s Lake and back.”
“I’ll get my truck out of the barn.” Olaf hurried into the hallway leading toward the back of the house. “Mamma, find the man some of my clothes. He can’t go all the way to Grand Forks in his underwear.” Olaf shot a grin back at them as he pulled on his heavy winter coat, hat and gloves.
Marge left them in the living room and headed the opposite direction of her husband. When she returned, she carried a pair of jeans, an older winter jacket and a flannel shirt. “These were my son’s. He’s a bit taller than Olaf. They should fit you better.”
“I’ll have them returned to you as soon as possible.”
“Don’t bother. He has more in the closet and he rarely makes it up here in the wintertime. We usually go stay with him and his family in January and February. They live in Florida.” She grinned. “It’s a lot nicer down there at this time of year than up here.”
Dante smiled at the woman and accepted the clothing graciously.
“There’s a bathroom in the hallway if you’d like to dress in there.” Marge pointed the direction.
Dante disappeared and reappeared a few minutes later dressed in jeans that fit a little loose around his hips and were an inch or two short on his legs. The flannel shirt strained against his broad shoulders, but he didn’t say a word.
Emma figured he was grateful to have anything more than just thermal underwear on his body.
He shrugged into the old jacket and zipped it. “I’ll go help Olaf with the truck.”
“Stay inside,” Marge insisted. “You’ve been exposed to the weather enough for one day.”
“I’m fine.” He nodded toward Emma, his dark eyes smoldering. “I’ll be back in a minute for you.”
Emma’s heart fluttered. She knew he didn’t mean anything by the look, other than he’d be back to load her up in the truck.
Alone with Marge, Emma wished she was warm enough to go out and help, but the thought of going out in the cold so soon after nearly dying in it didn’t appeal to her in the least. How did Dante do it?
“That’s some man you have there,” Marge said, fussing over the blankets in Emma’s lap.
Emma started to tell Marge that he wasn’t her man, but decided it didn’t matter. The farmer and his wife had been very helpful, taking them in and providing them warmth and clothing.
“How long have you two been together?” Marge asked out of the blue.
Now that she hadn’t refuted Marge’s earlier statement, Emma didn’t know whether she should tell her they weren’t together. “Not very long” were the words she came up with. They were true in the simplest sense. She and Dante had only been together since she’d found him in the snow beside the helicopter wreckage the day before and one other time when they’d had coffee together on campus.
Marge smiled. “You two make a nice couple. Now, do you want to take an extra jacket with you? Olaf keeps blankets and a sleeping bag in the backseat of the truck in case we get marooned out in bad weather. Make use of them. I know once you get cold, it’s hard to warm up. Sometimes it takes me days for my old body to catch up.”
Used to the North Dakota winters, Emma nodded. To think Dante was out in that cold wind helping the old man get the truck ready sent another shiver across Emma’s skin.
“I’ve got my camp stove going and some water heating for coffee. If you’re all right by yourself, I’ll rustle up some breakfast for the two of you.”
“You don’t have to go to all that trouble.” Emma’s belly growled at the thought of food.
Marge laughed. “No trouble at all. We rarely have visitors so far north. It’ll be a treat to get to fuss over someone.” She left Emma on the couch.
The rattle of pans preceded the heavenly scent of bacon cooking. By the time the men came in from the cold, Emma’s mouth was watering and she pushed aside the blankets to stand.
“Everything’s ready,” Dante said.
“Good. Then come have a seat at the table and eat breakfast while Olaf and I have our lunch. No use going off with an empty stomach.” Marge set plates of hot food on the table and cups of steaming coffee.
“We really appreciate all you’ve done for us. Truthfully, we’d have been happy just to sit in front of the fire to thaw.” Emma sat in the chair Dante pulled out for her and stared down at eggs, bacon, ham and biscuits. “Breakfast never looked so good,” she exclaimed.
“You’re an angel.” Dante hugged the older woman and waited for her to sit in front of a sandwich and chips before he took his seat.
Marge’s cheeks bloomed with color.
“My Marge can make most anything with a camp stove and a Dutch oven. And she can dress a mule deer like a side of beef.”
Marge waved at her husband. “He only married me because I liked hunting.”
Olaf grinned. “And she was the prettiest girl in the county.”
Emma hid a smile. The pair clearly loved each other. “How long have you two been together?”
Olaf’s head tipped to one side. “What’s it been? Thirty years or more?”
Marge
