Luke glanced down the road—the certain path to civilization—then back toward where Max had disappeared, trying to see through the trees. The sun had dropped below the horizon already, even though it wasn’t even four o’clock. Today was the shortest day of the year, and Luke knew that he was facing the longest night of the year. But even in what little light that was left, he could see that the lake was about a hundred yards from where he was standing.

Out of sight now, Max started barking excitedly.

Luke looked back down the road. He didn’t want to expend his energy on a wild-goose chase, but he didn’t want to walk right past help, either.

Tigger suddenly jumped out of the sled and started lunging through the deep snow right past him, following Max’s path.

“I guess that settles that,” he muttered, stepping back to check on Camry. When he saw she was looking far less pale than she had been, he turned and started following the dogs. The trail emerged onto the shoreline, and Luke stopped beside Max and Tigger, who were looking out at the lake, their wagging tails brushing the snow.

Luke pulled his GPS out of his pocket, called up the screen that told him exactly where he was, and realized that he was still sixteen miles from Winter’s house by way of the tote road. A chill ran down his spine as he recalled Roger’s note; it appeared he had been taking two steps back for each step forward.

They had traveled only two miles in four hours.

Which meant that at the rate he was walking—which was only going to get slower the more tired he grew—it was going to take him days to get them out of these woods. He zoomed out the map on the screen and saw that if he cut diagonally down the lake, Pine Creek was less than six miles away.

Of flat going.

With a full moon to light the way.

And possibly thin ice that he wouldn’t be able to see.

Did he have the right to risk drowning Camry . . . to save her foot?

But it wasn’t really her ankle that worried him; he was afraid she was going into shock. And though he didn’t know much about medicine—emergency or otherwise—he was pretty sure shock was fatal if not treated in time.

He stepped to the sled and peeled back the tarp, plopped down in the snow and took off his glove, then reached in and wrapped his fingers around Camry’s hand. He looked back out at the expanse of lake in front of him. Could he really shut down his brain long enough to follow his heart?

Just like he had thirteen years ago, when he’d found Kate and Maxine?

He hadn’t stopped long enough to weigh the odds of his saving Kate versus their drowning.

Hell, he hadn’t been thinking at all; he’d just acted on instinct. Nothing had mattered except getting her away from that river, and if they’d both drowned, well . . . he would have died knowing she hadn’t died alone.

But by some miracle, neither of them had.

Was that what Roger had meant in his note, when he’d written that Luke had already experienced creating a miracle when he’d needed it?

Because honest to God, from when he’d found Kate’s and Maxine’s tracks under that tree to when he’d gone out onto the ice sheet after them, it had felt like time had actually stopped. He’d reached the river in what had seemed like only seconds, even though it had been over a mile away, then taken off his snowshoes, gone out to her, and flung her to safety with absolutely no sense of urgency. His actions hadn’t been rushed or even in slow motion; time had truly ceased to exist.

So why in hell was he so determined to deny that miracles existed?

Because if they did exist, it would mean there really was some unknown factor ruling his beloved science, something that he couldn’t quantify . . . or control.

And God knows he’d spent his entire pre-adult life feeling out of control—from his accidental conception and arrival into the world, to his being raised by three women determined to mother him, to his mother’s marriage to a man who had been equally determined to father him. Even getting a baby sister he hadn’t asked for.

So maybe the real miracle on that river had absolutely nothing to do with Kate, but rather with the fact that, for the first time in his life, he’d stopped being self-centered long enough to uncompromisingly, unpretentiously, and unconditionally love someone other than himself.

A condition that had lasted all of four weeks, until he’d returned to school and fallen right back into his old habit of putting himself first. And he’d tenaciously clung to his self-centeredness all through his career, not collaborating with anyone unless it served him more than it served the greater good, and even going so far as to steal someone else’s work when he’d lost control of his own.

Christ, he deserved to die out here.

But Camry sure as hell didn’t—because she loved him exactly the way he was.

And he sure as hell loved her more than he loved himself.

So maybe it was time he listened to his heart.

Luke looked at his watch and saw it was four o’clock. He lifted Camry’s hand and kissed the stone ring on her finger, then tucked it back under the sleeping bag, got to his knees, and kissed her warm forehead.

“Okay, sleeping beauty,” he whispered. “It’s time for me to make some magic.” He snuggled Roger’s hat farther down on her head. “Too bad you’re going to sleep right through the miracle I’m about to create.”

He stood up, picked up Tigger, and tucked her back inside Camry’s jacket. Then, after removing the bag of gear from the back of the sled and tossing it in the snow, he patted his leg. “Come on, Max. You’re riding, too.” He set the Lab in the sled, making sure the dog didn’t crowd Camry and Tigger. “Santa Claus is arriving at Gù Brath on the solstice this year, and I’m the reindeer who’s going to make this sled fly. So hang on tight, everyone,” he finished with a laugh, closing the tarp and securing it to the side.

He stepped to the front of the sled, settled the rope over his shoulders, then reached into his pockets for his gloves. After putting them on, he pulled the GPS out of one pocket and the transmitter out of the other.

Luke tossed the GPS in the snow next to their gear, then held up the transmitter. “Okay, Rudolph, you guide my sleigh to Camry’s house, because her mother’s expecting her daughter to blow out thirty-two candles in a two hours and fifteen minutes.”

The infernal thing gave a lively chirp.

Luke tucked it in his pocket with a laugh, then stepped out onto the lake. He took another step, and then another, keeping pace with the soft chirps coming from his pocket.

Chapter Twenty-two

So deep was Luke in the zone of putting one foot in front of the other that it took him a moment to realize that something was interfering with his hearing the steady chirp of the transmitter. He looked up from the moonlit snow in front of him and stopped dead in his tracks.

Max started yipping, and Luke shrugged off the rope and went back and opened the tarp. The Lab immediately jumped out and ran toward the bright lights of town, barking frantically. Luke peered in to see that Camry was still sleeping, her relaxed face rosy pink as Tigger’s wagging tail made her jacket move. He petted the dachshund. “You did good, girl. You’ve kept her toasty warm. Hang on, we’re almost there.”

Luke closed the tarp and started after Max, soon walking up over the shoreline, past the shops, and directly onto Main Street. He then held up his hand to stop the pickup slowing down to let him cross.