Soldier's Christmas Secrets

He gently set her on her feet and gestured toward the cluster of bushes. She nodded her understanding and headed in that direction. Hawk continued sweeping his gaze over the area, looking for signs the hostiles were near, surprised that they hadn’t covered the back side of the cabin but had chosen to come in from the front and the west.

Although he knew there very well could be more.

When they reached the cluster of bushes, he carved out a small space with his hands and drew Jillian down. “Stay here, I’ll be back soon.”

She clutched at his arm. “Don’t leave us,” she begged.

It wasn’t by choice but out of necessity. He leaned down so his mouth was near her ear. “I have a snowmobile nearby. I promise I’ll be quick.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she gave a jerky nod, showing she understood. He drew out his gun and handed it to her. This time she didn’t protest but clutched it with both hands while keeping one arm around Lizzy, holding her close.

He hesitated. There was so much he wanted to say, but there wasn’t time. He needed to move, to draw the hostiles away from Jillian and Lizzy.

He’d willingly sacrifice himself to keep them alive and safe.

This was so much worse than waiting in the car. Since they were surrounded by snow-covered trees and bushes, any sense of being safe was eroded by the cold breeze that made her shiver. Her fingers were beginning to go numb, but she didn’t dare let go of the gun.

She silently prayed that God would watch over them. Keeping an internal monologue in her head helped keep her fear in check. Hawk would return for them. He had a snowmobile nearby and would be here soon. He wouldn’t let the men combing the woods reach her and Lizzy.

Hawk was James, except he wasn’t. Her husband had never moved so stealthily. Her husband had smiled and laughed often, and while he may not have been verbose, he certainly had spoken more than Hawk did.

Nevertheless, he was her husband. She was still married to the man. Wasn’t she? Maybe not, since James had been declared dead. But he wasn’t dead, not really. He was just—different. Thinking about it made her head hurt. It was all so confusing.

Come on, Hawk, where are you?

“Mommy?” Lizzy lifted her head.

“Shh,” she whispered.

Lizzy wiggled a little and Jillian feared her daughter wasn’t going to stay silent much longer. Hoping and praying Hawk would return soon, she kept her mouth right near her daughter’s ear.

“Be quiet for just a little while longer.”

Lizzy nodded her head and leaned against her, rubbing her cheek against the teddy bear’s head.

Jillian let out a sigh of relief. So far, so good.

A twig snapped. The sound sent a stab of terror deep into her stomach. She went still, her breath locked in her throat and her heart thundering in her chest. She pressed Lizzy’s face against her chest, hoping the little girl wouldn’t do or say something to give them away.

Since rediscovering the church after moving to Wisconsin, she’d leaned on God often and didn’t hesitate to do that again, now.

Please keep us safe, Lord! Please!

The sound of rustling leaves seemed close. She imagined one of the black ski-masked men making his way toward their hiding spot. How much longer? She dreaded every passing second, fearing the worst.

Then abruptly there was an oomph sound and a muffled thud. Still, she didn’t move, didn’t so much as blink. She wanted desperately to believe Hawk had taken care of the guy, but for all she knew, he’d fallen flat on his face the way she nearly had a few minutes ago.

Another ten seconds passed. She strained to listen but heard nothing.

Suddenly Hawk loomed in front of them, a streak of dirt covering his scar. He gave a nod and held out his hand. She shakily put her hand in his, allowing him to pull her and Lizzy to her feet.

She wanted to ask what was going on, but as if he sensed her intent, he lifted a finger to his lips. She nodded in understanding.

They weren’t safe yet. And it struck her then that they may never be safe again.

From this moment on, safety could very well be nothing more than an illusion.

Hawk gently but firmly pulled her in a different direction. She couldn’t tell if they were going closer toward the cabin or farther away. It wasn’t easy to navigate while carrying Lizzy, because she couldn’t see her feet. Twice she felt a branch of some sort pressing against her shin, making her lift her foot higher to get over it.

They moved through the dense woods in what felt like slow motion. But soon enough, Hawk tugged on her arm, indicating they could stop here.

She glanced around, thinking she’d find the snowmobile he’d mentioned. When she didn’t see it, her hopes plummeted. Had someone stolen it? Or had the ski-mask guys found it before Hawk had?

Hawk stepped over to a bush and began moving snow-laden branches. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw the camouflage-green snowmobile hidden behind the shrubbery.

It took Hawk a while to get the thing uncovered. It soon became clear that the bush hadn’t been a bush at all but dozens of loose branches placed strategically around the machine.

He swung his leg over the seat and gestured for her to get on in front of him. She hesitated, worried about Lizzy.

“Keep her in front of you,” he whispered.

She nodded and did as he asked. The seat seemed far too small for the three of them but her protest was swallowed by the roar of the engine.

She felt Lizzy shuddering against her, guessing that the little girl hated the loud sound. Hawk hit the gas and the machine moved forward, the twin skis gliding over the snow, fallen branches and leaves. She let out a screech as he went even faster, tearing a path through the woods.

Stealth was not an option now. The way they roared through the woods broadcasted their location to anyone still searching for them. Clutching Hawk’s knee with one arm, while clinging to Lizzy with the other, she grew convinced that he was the only one capable of getting them out of there.

But where would they go? It wasn’t as if you could drive a snowmobile down the center of a plowed road. Or could you? Maybe. Yet as fast as they were moving, she knew the machine carrying them didn’t have the necessary speed to outrun a car.

Bare branches slapped her in the face, making her eyes sting with tears. She curled her body around Lizzy’s, protecting the little girl the only way she could.

The trees thinned and she wondered if they were getting close to the road or to the end of Hawk’s property. She felt certain they’d escaped, until she heard the loud echo of gunfire above the drone of the engine.

No! Jillian gasped, horrified that the ski-masked men were still out there, shooting at them.

“Keep your head down,” he ordered.

Doing anything else was impossible anyway, but what about Hawk? He was the most exposed, and if something happened to him...there was no hope for her and Lizzy to survive.

She prayed again as Hawk continued driving. The woods seemed to go on forever, thinning out a bit, then growing thicker again. She had no idea how much land Hawk owned, or if they were out on someone else’s property by now.

Did it matter if they were? It gave her a measure of hope that the owners might call the police.

The gunfire had stopped, but she couldn’t relax. Not with Hawk still driving like a maniac.

Then he abruptly pulled over and stopped the machine. Silence reigned except for the ringing in her ears.

“Take Lizzy and stand over there for a minute,” Hawk said, urging her off the snowmobile and pointing at a pine tree.