The art room was as spacious as the rest of the lodge, with long tables covered in white paper, a single chair at each table, and a stack of art supplies. A smaller table with an angled mirror overhead for demonstrations took up one end of the room, with a set of chairs in front for the students.

Against one wall was a line of wooden lockers with our names neatly printed and placed into a holder. Each locker had a coat hook, a set of shelves, and an empty Mule Shoe backpack.

After everyone checked out their locker, selected a seat, and properly admired the new art toys, Angie again got our attention. “Class starts at nine thirty, right after breakfast. See you all in the morning.”

Still shuffling along with the throng, I left the room and headed outside, then stopped. Since I’d been at dinner, the sun had set. It was dark.

I hated the dark.

As I turned to the lodge, Bram appeared beside me with a flashlight and held out his arm. “May I see you to your cabin, madam?” he asked in a bad British accent.

Flashlights were narrow beacons of light in the vast darkness. “Um . . .”

Wyatt appeared at my other side, also with a flashlight. “Looks like you have a full entourage escorting you.”

My hands were already shaking and I knew my face would be drained of color. Darkness was one of my triggers. Come on, Darby. It’s been five years. Get over it. “Um . . .”

A screen door slammed somewhere nearby and Cookie rounded the corner of the lodge carrying a lantern. She strolled to a bear-proof bin and tossed a paper bag inside, then turned to us. “Evening, Wyatt, Bram, Miss Graham.” She peered closer at me. “Wyatt, why don’t you take my lantern and let me have the flashlight. You can see a whole lot better.” She grinned. “And I know you two good-looking fellers want to keep an eye on each other while escorting Miss Graham to her cabin.”

My face grew warm.

Cookie and Wyatt exchanged lights, then the three of us moved toward my cabin. The dogs followed, Maverick at a wary distance. The silence made me feel awkward. The two men acted like I was some kind of prize. Like I was still desirable.

I wanted to tell them about the last five years, what I had done, why I was here.

Words abandoned me.

The very things that had once defined my life were gone.

The cabin was a warm haven after the evening chill. Someone had lit several lanterns, stoked the lively fire in the fireplace, and turned down the bed. Both men paused at the door, sending irritated glances at each other.

“Thank you both.”