Christine Sullivan heaved a sigh.  Thanks to a sinus infection, instead of lying on a beach in the Caribbean sucking back rum drinks with her friends, she was still in Ontario.  Spending her vacation camping in Algonquin Park.  Alone.

Get over it.  You’re a big girl and you don’t need your crew around to have fun.

Besides, there may be some merit to vacationing alone.  She could be selfish and do what she wanted the whole time.

Like hiking.

Grinning, she finished lacing her boots.  Her friends hated hiking.

Christine jumped in her car and began the winding drive out of her campground.  Too bad she hadn’t picked up a trail guide on the way in yesterday.  At just under three thousand square miles of lakes, rivers and forests, Algonquin Provincial Park had a trail to suit everyone. She shrugged her shoulders.  Oh, well.  She’d pick something out at random.

Forsaking the car’s air conditioner, Christine rolled down the windows.  Ah, fresh air.  No stinking Toronto pollution or oppressive humidity.

It’s all good.  This is way better than frying myself on a beach.

As she drove along Highway 60, the main corridor through the Park, she watched for the signs marking the trails and lookouts.   Finally spotting a trailhead marker that didn’t have a ton of cars parked beside it, she pulled over.

After parking and getting out of her car, Christine decided to do some warm-up exercises.  May as well do this right, she thought.

As she stretched, the tension of the last week began to seep away. Maybe the sinus infection wasn’t such a bad thing after all.  When was the last time she’d just stood and enjoyed the majesty of nature?

Crossing a transition zone between northern coniferous and southern deciduous forests, the Park offered something for everyone.  Maybe she’d get lucky and find one of the rare species of orchids that grew here.  Maybe she’d come eyeball to eyeball with a moose or some other wildlife.  Okay, not that close, but close enough to get a picture.

Finally, car locked, fanny pack and camera in place, she headed for the trail.  As she drew even with the marker sign, the word “strenuous” jumped out at her.

Nibbling on a thumb nail, she stopped and looked back at the parking lot.  No other cars.  Suddenly, this didn’t seem like such a good idea.  Maybe being alone wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

Sucking in a deep breath, she planted her fists on her hips.  “Come on, Sullivan.  Stop being such a wuss.  It says strenuous, not deadly.”

She nodded, deciding to heed herself.  It wasn’t like she wasn’t in good shape, she was.  And for crying out loud, this was Algonquin Park, not the Himalayas.

Turning back to the trail, she forged ahead.  The trees closed in around her, welcoming her into another world.

This was what she loved about hiking.  The way the silence of the forest heightened her senses.

Slowing her pace, she pulled in a cleansing breath, awed at how everything took on a vividness not there moments ago.  The tickle of a pine needle on her arm, the vibrant yellow of a bird further ahead in a maple tree, the call of a loon in the distance, and the aroma of a campfire drifting by on a breeze.  All of it presented with a clarity usually lacking.

She’d made the right decision.

After hiking some distance, Christine came upon a ridge that offered an awesome view.  Standing at the edge of a cliff, she took in the panorama before her.  She could see for miles-

north, west and south.  To the south, the bluest of lakes glistened like a jewel in the early morning sun.  She had to have a picture of this.  But if she could just get a little higher, the awesome view would be stupendous.

Well, hey, there were lots of trees around, right?

Patting her camera, safely tucked into her fanny pack, she picked a tree and started climbing.

And now here she stood.

What was it she’d said to herself this morning?  Oh, yeah.  I’m going to have fun if it kills me.  Good news, she’d been having fun.  Bad news, it was about to kill her.

Why, why, why had she climbed this tree?

She should have known better.  If there was some screwball situation most people would avoid, she walked into it with her eyes wide open and oblivious to the probable consequences.

More than an hour had passed since she found herself marooned.  And another hour since she’d parked her car.  Not a soul had crossed her path since.

She could hear the headlines now.  “And in local news, a hiker in advanced stages of rigor mortis was found in a tree.  It appears she climbed up and couldn’t get back down.”

“Hey.  Are you okay?”

The unexpected-but oh, so welcome- voice overpowered the one in her head, and she screeched.  Heart thumping, she slammed her back against the tree trunk.  Taking a header from here wasn’t a favourable option!  Yeah, it would get her out of her predicament-the tree-but likely bust her skull open.

Christine looked down-and oh my.  This time is wasn’t the elevation making her head swim.  Would you look at him?  And didn’t if just figure?  She couldn’t meet up with a hot guy while on her feet, in control, and at her best.  Nope, she had to be stuck up a tree and looking like an idiot.

Hmm, should she play it cool?  Tell him to move on, she was just up here enjoying the view?

No way!  First, she needed help and second-well, really who cared what he looked like? She needed help!

“Uh, yeah.  I’m sorta stuck up here.”

“Can’t you get down the way you went up?”

“Um, no.  I…well, I didn’t check the strength of the branches before I stood on them.  Some of them snapped on the way up.”  And instead of acting like a sane person and aborting when the first branch snapped, she’d kept climbing.  Well, she had a fabulous shot to show for her efforts, didn’t she?  She might crack a few bones or the camera trying to make it back to terra firma, but details, details.  Christine was a big picture sort of girl.  She didn’t get bogged down in the minutia.

Maybe-given her current predicament-it was time to reassess her stance on that.

“If this were a movie I’d tell you to jump, and I’d catch you. But that’s not going to happen in real life.  You’d crush me.”

What?  Jerk! Was he saying she was fat?  She knew she shouldn’t have eaten that huge desert last night.

She lifted her chin a bit and looked down her nose at him-pretty easy from up here-and in the haughtiest voice she could summon said, “Excuse me?”

He laughed and put his palms out.  “Whoa.  I didn’t mean it like that.  It’s just that you’re high enough to pick up speed and force on the way down.  How long have you been up there?”

Oh.  She supposed his answer made sense.  She looked at her watch.  “About an hour and a half.  You’re the first person to come by.”

“Not surprising.  This isn’t one of the more popular trails.  I rarely see anyone when I hike here.”

Okay then.  Be nice to him.  He may well be her only chance for salvation.  But didn’t it just figure?  She had herself stuck in a tree on a trail hardly anyone used.  She really could have died up here.

Christine watched as he pulled off his backpack and swung it to the ground.  He was obviously a serious hiker-not just a wannabe like her.

First, he untied the sleeping bag strapped to the bottom of his pack and let it drop to the ground.  Then from his pack, he removed a fair size coil of rope and a pair of gloves.

He looked up at her.  “Were you any good in gym class?”

Gazing down at him suspiciously, she asked, “Why?  What do you have in mind?”

“Since I can’t get up there-if the tree wouldn’t hold you it won’t hold me-you need to get yourself down here.  With a little help.”

“Uh-huh.  And just what kind of help did you have in mind?”

He grinned at her.  “Well, since I don’t think you want to jump-you’d have done it by now if you did-I’m suggesting you use the rope.  How sturdy is that branch you’re standing on?”

Heat crept into her cheeks.  “Good.”  No way would she tell him she’d made that discovery by crashing down onto it from above.

“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.  I’ll throw the rope up to you.  When you catch it, I’ll tell you how to tie it.  Then I’ll throw the gloves, and you get to lower yourself down with the rope.  Simple.”

Simple?  Easy for him to say.  “Ah…you sure there isn’t another way?”

“You prefer to wait for the next person to come along with a better suggestion?”

Heaving a sigh and accepting the inevitable, Christine said, “Throw me the rope.”

“Hold on.  Just in case you fall…”

Great.  Thanks for reintroducing that image to my brain.

He began creating a giant mound of leaves and finally spread his sleeping bag over them.

Huh.  A thorough, thoughtful man.    And just my luck, I have to meet him when I’m at my worst.

He stood back a bit, put his hands on his hips, and looked up at her.  “You ready for this?”

“Unless you have some nifty superhero skills-like the ability to teleport me-I guess I have no choice.  Let’s get this over with.”

“What’s your name?”

“Christine.”

“Okay, Christine.  I’m going to throw the rope.  Watch what you’re doing and try not to fall while reaching for it.  Here we go.”

Ya think?  Okay, positive thoughts.  Positive thoughts.

Clenching her lower lip between her teeth, she watched the rope sail toward her.  And sail right past.

It snagged on a branch two feet beyond her reach, and then fell to the ground.

Watching its descent, she asked, “What happens if it gets stuck somewhere and I can’t reach it?”

“You get to stay up there.”

Gulp.  “Okay.  Try again.”

This time, she caught it.  “I did it!  I caught it!”

Grinning, he said, “Good.  I’ll tell how to tie it, then I’ll throw you the gloves.”

A few minutes later she pulled the gloves on.  Made for man hands, they were far too large, but she curled her fingers, grateful she wouldn’t lose a few layers of skin.

While fiddling with her fanny pack, trying to make her camera as safe as possible, Christine took a deep breath and released it along with a quiet prayer.  “Please help me do this.”

Now or never.

Grasping the intricately tied rope in both hands, she began a cautious journey downward.  He talked her through every step, but that didn’t make the situation any less terrifying.

After what seemed an eternity, he said, “Okay, now jump.”

“Jump?”

“Yeah.  You’re almost out of rope.  Don’t worry.  It’s not too far, and I’m right here.”

Nooo!  Why, why, why didn’t I check the length of the rope?

Christine looked up-no way was she looking down-and again asked for a safe return to the ground.

She let go.

Note to self.  Freefalling isn’t something I ever want to do again.

A cry of relief escaped her lips when she felt strong arms grab her around the waist.  Then they were tumbling to the ground, with him manoeuvring so she landed on top.

His grinning face appeared inches from her nose when she finally opened her eyes.  “Hi.  I’m Greg. You owe me a rope, or at the very least, dinner.”

Huh.  I am going to have fun this week!

The End

Aspiring author Sherrie Kingston doesn’t have a website, but she’s willing to share her love of short romantic stories with us.

Today, however, was worse than normal.  Blizzard like conditions had descended on the city the night before and showed no signs of letting up.  Still tense from this morning’s treacherous drive, she wasn’t looking forward to the repeat performance in the opposite direction.

Why did she have to be such a do-gooder?  The sparse traffic coming in this morning proved that most people had been smart enough-or something-to stay home. 

But not her.  Oh, no.   Saint Kelly-as her ex mockingly referred to her-didn’t shirk her responsibilities. 

Her team had a project due today, so she’d had no choice but to make it into work, no matter how death defying the trip.  Of course, everyone else, including her boss-who’d called around ten and said she’d managed a day’s grace on the deadline-had stayed home.   

Yet here she stood, at ten to five, just getting ready to leave.

She was such a sap.

After bundling up in her bulky parka and clunky winter boots-fashion had not been an option this morning-she headed out into a freezing February evening. 

She didn’t mind winter.  Really.

There were only a handful of cars in the lot. When she’d arrived this morning, she’d been smart enough to park with another clump of cars.  A few others hadn’t thought ahead and were boxed in by a mountain of snow, thanks to the snowplow.

At least she didn’t have to brush her car off and dig it out.

So intent on her task of clearing off her running vehicle, it took a while before she became conscious of a revving engine.  Someone was stuck.

Everyone should spend a few winters farther north.  They’d learn winter driving skills then.  Where she’d grown up, this much snow, and more, was the norm.

Then she realized who the driver was and immediately regretted her thoughts.  Raji was an immigrant.  She hadn’t even seen snow until moving here last fall. 

Kelly looked at her now warm car with longing.  It was every man for himself, right?

Wrong.  Not in her world.  She couldn’t just leave. 

Saint Kelly to the rescue.

It took her about ten minutes of pushing and shovelling, but Raji was finally able to pull forward.

She drove about ten feet, then stopped. 

What now?

Kelly walked up to the window again.  “Are you okay?”

Raji sat rigid, with hands clutched at ten and two.  Tears streamed down her face.  She began to shake her head.

In the perfect diction of one that had worked hard to learn a new language, she said, “No no no.  I cannot do this again.  I am too afraid.  This is…this is too much.  Too much snow.  It is dark.  I will have an accident.”

Kelly sighed. Why fight it? 

“Listen, I pass your turnoff on the way to my place.  Would you like me to drive you home?”

Tear filled eyes widened as they stared up at her.  “Yes!  You would do that?”

Yeah, she would do that. 

Since she’d chatted with Raji a few times, she knew where she lived.  Driving her home on a good day would add ten minutes to her commute.  Today?  Who knew?

“Come on, park your car, and let’s go.”

Moments later, they were buckled in and on their way.

More than forty-five minutes later, she pulled into the lot of Raji’s building.  Every five minutes or so Raji had thanked her for being such a nice person, but other than that, the drive had been a silent one.

Now she could head to her own home. 

And wouldn’t you know it?  Just before merging back onto her usual route, some idiot driving too fast in the other direction hit a patch of ice and nearly creamed her.  She instinctively swerved to avoid a collision and ended up straddling a small bank of icy snow.  There was no way she could extricate herself.  Not without help. 

Of course, other than her, the only people left on the road were bad drivers and people that had no inclination to lend a hand. 

Every man for himself.

Her ex’s voice droned in her head.  “See what happens when you get involved?”

As she sat there wondering who to call for help, someone knocked on her window. 

Startled, she looked over and saw a man standing there.  A quick glance in her rear view mirror revealed a car parked behind her.

He’d stopped to help!

Grateful, Kelly rolled down her window.  “Thank you so much for stopping.  I can’t get out of this one on my own.”

“I saw what happened.  Excellent reflexes.  It could’ve been a lot worse.  I’ll give you a push.” He smiled-and what a nice smile!-and said, “I take it you know what to do?”

She smiled back and nodded.

“Okay.  Let’s get you on your way.”

He had to try a few times, but finally her tires found traction.  Even though she’d only been gently pressing the gas pedal, her car shot forward. 

Once in control, she looked in her mirror.

He’d disappeared!  How could that be? 

She slowed to a crawl.

There he was.  Oh no, what had happened?  He was laying face down in the snow!

She stopped the car, jumped out, and ran back to him.

As she approached, he rolled over.

He shook his head.  “Shouldn’t good things happen when you help someone out?”

Grinning down at him, she said, “Oh, I think they do.  There’s a Starbucks a few blocks ahead.  If you’re not in a rush to meet up with someone, I’d like to buy you a coffee.  To show my appreciation.  Not too many people are willing to stop and lend a hand these days.”

Standing, he took off his gloves and whacked them together a few times to shake of the snow.  Then he stuck a hand out to her.  “There is no one, and I’d love to stop for a coffee.  I’m Derek.”

“Hi Derek.  I’m Kelly.”

The End

Aspiring author Sherrie Kingston doesn’t have a website, but she’s willing to share her love of short romantic stories with us.

Kate Middleton smoothed her hands over her slim hips and wriggled.  Life was good.

Sure, she had a lot to mourn over, but she had much to be happy about as well.  And she firmly believed that a positive attitude made any battle easier.  It had taken her a long time to accept that, but she finally did.

At fifty, she was happier than she’d been at forty, but not quite as giddy as she’d been at thirty.

Today was her day.  Three days a week, she worked at a law office, and one day a week she caught up on chores and errands.  But Fridays?  Friday was the day she went to the gym and then followed the wind wherever it blew her.

Car keys and gym bag in hand, she headed for her door.

The ringing of the phone pulled her up short.  Should she, or shouldn’t she?  She sighed.  She should.  After all, once a mother, always a mother.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mom.  I’m glad I caught you.  I need you to do me a favour.  Can you pick up Melissa at school?”

“Hi, Honey.  Sure.  The usual time?”

Her daughter’s sigh brushed her ear drum.  “No.  I need you to go now.  There’s a crisis at the school, and they’re sending the kids home.  I’m tied up and wouldn’t be able to get there for at least an hour.”

Kate pressed a hand to her heart.  “What happened?  Is she okay?”

“Everyone’s fine, but there’s a gas leak a few blocks from the school.  The gas company has servicemen at the site, and the danger is minimal, but the school is erring on the side of caution.”

“Okay.  I’ll go get her now.  I just need to change into street clothes.”

Trina laughed.  “Bree, I’m sure you don’t need to change.”

Kate huffed at her daughter.  “Stop calling me that.  I do not look like one of the Desperate Housewives.”

“Sure you do, Mom.  I know you’re dressed in your gym suit right now, and I know you still look like a million bucks.  You do not need to change into ‘street clothes’ as you call them.”

She resisted the urge to grind her teeth.  They’d had this discussion too many times.  “Fine.  I’ll get Missy now.”

“Thanks, Mom.  I should be able to get away soon, so I’ll pick her up there.”

“No, it’s okay.  You stay at work, and Missy and I will spend the day together.”

“Okay, thanks.  See you when I see you, then.”

Kate hung up the phone and walked over to the mirrored doors of the coat closet.  She didn’t watch Desperate Housewives, but she’d tuned in once after Trina started calling her Bree.  So, okay.  Maybe there was a slight resemblance, and her velour jogging suit did look like the one Gabrielle wore, but still, she was just Kate.  Content with her life and in no way desperate.

She grinned at her reflection, flipped her red hair over her shoulder, and then headed for the door.  Trina was right.  She didn’t need to change.  Besides, the only people she’d run into were a group of six-year-olds and their teacher.

Or not.

Sitting on a curb outside the school, with Missy, a classmate named Jacob and the class rabbit-thankfully caged, and not going home with them-Kate watched the man walk toward them.  Missy had refused to leave her friend alone, so Kate had promised they’d wait until Jacob’s ride arrived.

Was this Jacob’s father?

“Uncle Eric!”

Okay, not his father.  And for some reason Kate found herself strangely relieved.  Eric, likely in his late thirties, or early forties, wasn’t her type, yet a trickle of awareness passed over her.

“Hey, J man.  I’m off work this week, so your mom called and asked me to come get you.  Is this your teacher?”

Hazel eyes rested on Kate, and she felt her pulse spike.  Wow, what was it about this guy?  She liked her men clean cut and dressed in designer suits, not scruffy looking and wearing jeans that had seen better days and a black t-shirt that had clearly been washed too many times.  Having some weird chemical reaction to a guy-and not that she measured a man by his age, but a younger guy!-she know nothing about, wasn’t her style.  And yet…

Jacob’s giggle broke the trance she seemed to have fallen into.  “That’s not our teacher, Uncle Eric!  That’s Melissa’s grandma!”

No matter how proud Kate was of her “grandma” status, her tummy tightened, and she winced.  Those eyes that apparently didn’t miss much sparkled beneath raised brows and slowly gave her the once over.

“Really.  Melissa’s grandma, eh?”

“Yeah.  She’s nice.  We gotta subs’tute teacher today, and she’s mean!”

Suddenly, his teasing-boyish-appearance was replaced with razor sharp intensity.  In front of her stood a-warrior-as he zeroed his attention in on his nephew.

“She’s mean?  How?”

Before Kate had time to decipher her reaction to the change in him, mayhem broke loose.  Missy, whose silence should have made her suspicious, let loose a screech, the rabbit escaped from its cage and took off across the parking lot, and the teacher came charging out of the front door.

“Who let that rabbit loose?  You little bra…”

Her hand lifted threateningly, and Eric planted himself right in her face.

“I’m Detective Eric Smithson, ma’am.  Jacob’s uncle.  That’s a very slippery slope you’re teetering on right now, and I suggest you back away from it.”

Kate grabbed a hand of each child, and started to chase after the rabbit.  It seemed Detective Smithson had things in hand here.

“Come on, kids.  We’ve got a rabbit to catch.  And Missy, you’ll have some explaining to do later.”

Ten minutes later, thanks to a coordinated take down headed up by Detective Smithson, the four of them had the rabbit back in the cage.

As they lay panting on the grass of the parkette that bordered the school, Eric grinned at Kate as his glance slid across her.

“So, since I refuse to call you grandma, how about you tell me your name?”

Smoothing her palms down her sleeves, and the goose bumps that had sprung beneath, she answered.  “I’m Kate.  Kate Middleton.”

He sprung up with an impressive display of agile muscles.  Reaching a hand down to her, he said, “Well, Kate Middleton, it is certainly a pleasure to meet you.  How do you feel about taking these kids to get an ice cream, and then seeing where things go from there?”

What was it she’d thought earlier?  That Friday was her day to follow the wind wherever it blew her?

“I think that sounds like a great idea.”

The fingers that still held hers as she stood gave hers a final tight squeeze and let her go.  Then he lowered his voice and moved in closer to her.  “Excellent.   I’ll take the rabbit, since Jacob has rabbit sitting duty this weekend, and while I’m in the car, I’ll make a phone call to the school board about her.”  He jutted his chin toward the school.   ”Their substitute teacher.  I’m not letting that go.”

“Oh, good idea.  Thank you.  That was just wrong.”

“Yeah.  But some things about today seem to be just right.”

Kate gulped, feeling a little scorched by his intensity.  Oh, yeah.  Life was good.

The End

Aspiring author Sherrie Kingston doesn’t have a website, but she’s willing to share her love of short romantic stories with us.