Raking my fingers through my disheveled hair, I began to look around. The only illumination was from the fire and a small kerosene lamp sitting on a table. Sitting up, I wrapped the quilt tighter around me. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my clothes lying over the footboard of the bed, stretched out to dry. Peeking under the quilt, I confirmed that I was only wearing my bra and panties.

Wiggling my fingers and toes, I could feel them ache. The skin was red. My cheeks felt sunburnt, and my hair was unkempt.

Quickly, I turned from side to side, wondering who I’d see, who was with me, and who took off my clothes.

The cabin where I found myself was rustic like my grandparents’ place but smaller.

“Hello?” I called.

The only answer came from the fire’s sounds and the wind beyond the cabin walls. Through the windows the night sky was still filled with falling snow. It wasn’t difficult to tell that I was alone. There was nowhere to hide in one room.

Faint memories of a man came to mind. Green eyes, an orange hat, and a deep voice.

With my feet bare yet warmed, I stood; the aftereffects of the cold sent pins and needles to the soles. Tentatively, I walked around, admiring the quaintness of the furnishings. In the warm firelight, I ran my hand over each piece. Most appeared handmade, a table and two chairs, a bed with a wooden head- and footboard, and a wooden sofa with long cushions.

Near the bed was a table with an old-fashioned pitcher and washbasin. Above the old china set was a cloudy oval mirror. The reflection in it wasn’t of the heir to Wade Pharmaceutical or the future Mrs. Butler.

My long blond hair was wavy from the snow and drying by the fire. Any makeup I’d applied was gone, yet Mother Nature had left her mark. My cheeks and lips were pink. I ran my tongue over the bottom lip and then the top, bringing a bit of moisture.

A quick check confirmed that my clothes were still too wet to be worn.

The kitchen area, separated by the small table, consisted of a sink with an old pump, the kind that needed priming, a counter, some shelves, cupboards, and a stove that also used wood as fuel to create heat. Upon the two metal burners were an old coffeepot and a pan filled with water.

I turned off the burner under the water as it was beginning to boil. Using a small towel, I held onto the coffeepot’s handle and lifted, pleased to find it heavy. Dark drops percolated within the glass top on the lid as the aroma of coffee joined the scent of the fire.