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The squirrel continued to berate him from its perch.

Poor thing had probably fled to the mill like they had, running for its life, but the lively critter was plump and bright-eyed so it must have access to shelter and a food source.

He looked around to see if the squirrel had a family somewhere, and when his attention returned, the animal was gone, the ultimate vanishing trick.

“Where’d you go, buddy?” He moved closer, pushing the branches aside and narrowly avoiding being poked in the eye.

“Progress?”

He jumped, turned to face Kit. “You scared me.”

She peered at him over her mask. “Sorry. It’s boring watching Tot sleep, and I got nothing with the phone. There’s not enough sunlight to use the solar charger either. I figured it was okay to risk a quick progress check on you, since she’s completely conked out.”

Once he’d stopped moving, his nerves informed him that his back and knee were killing him and the headache clung tighter than ever thanks to his busted cheekbone.

Plus he had no concrete progress to report, which hurt most of all.

“You could have at least brought more candy,” he quipped to cover his fatigue and discomfort.

“I did.” She handed him another peanut butter cup and a bottle of water.

He arched a brow. “Already ate the other?”

She shrugged. “Like I said, watching a baby sleep is boring and I didn’t bring a book to read.”

He quickly crammed in the candy and gulped the water before slipping the mask on again and gesturing to the pile. “I’ve moved stacks of bricks and a cubic ton of rotted planking. So far I’ve uncovered a squirrel, and yes, I screamed like a preschooler if you must know.”

She laughed, but her gaze was on the floor, roving the walls, scanning every crack and crevice she could find. Something snagged his thoughts. “Where did it go?”

He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until she answered. “Where’d what go?”

“The squirrel.”

“I’ll protect you if it comes back,” she said.

“Ha-ha.” He waded deeper into the ash-coated branches.

At the back, the part of the mass that skimmed the brick wall, the leaves were protected and whole.

It wasn’t a bunch of blown-in foliage, as he’d first thought, but an actual shrub sprung up from the ground that had been there prior to the slide.

That didn’t make sense. There was no fracture in the stone floor here that he could tell, so where had the plant found soil to plunge roots into?

Same place into which the squirrel had vanished?

Pulse thumping, he burrowed into the branches, found the slender main trunk of the shrub, and followed it.

As he scrabbled his way to the source, his fingers found the answer first. At the base of the plant was a metal square, four feet by four feet.

It was bolted into the stone, but a softball-sized spot in the corner had rusted away.

Some opportunistic seed had tumbled into the crevice, set down roots, and headed for the sky.

Plenty of room for the rodent to find shelter below as well and use the trunk as a highway to come and go as he pleased.

He whistled. “Would you look at that?”

Kit crowded in next to him, her shoulder soft against his.

“Archie’s tunnel?”

He put a palm over the compromised corner. “Feels cool, like there’s air coming up from below.”

Kit squeezed his forearm, and he clapped a hand over hers and returned the pressure, allowing her excitement to mingle with his own.

“The tunnel. It’s gotta be,” she whispered. “Oh my gosh, you actually found it.”

He relished the admiration in her tone, but his optimism was tempered. Finding a tunnel was a step, not a solution. He pointed. “The bolts securing this thing are solid iron. It’s going to be a task to knock them loose.”

“Then we better get on it.” She was already prowling, snatching up a brick, shoving aside the branches that covered the trapdoor. Brick clanged against metal followed by a yelp as the brick broke to pieces in her grasp. “Well, that’s not going to work.”

He joined in her searching for something with more heft. The snow began to fall more steadily, and they were both shivering when his foot encountered something hard in a patch of slimy pine needles.

“All right,” he cheered, grabbing up a rusted sledgehammer. “Back in the day, tools were built to last, that’s for sure.”

She watched, wide-eyed as he lugged the hammer over.

“Sorry, squirrel,” he called. “Fire in the hole! If you’re down there, take cover.

” He swung the hammer like a golf club at the exposed top of the bolt.

He felt every millimeter of the impact that ignited the pain clear to his skull and relayed it to every nerve and sinew.

The bolt stood firm. He clanged away again and again until it finally sheared off enough that he could kick it free with his boot heel.

If he could get the other three bolts to do the same, he could lever the lid away from the opening.

He was already sweating and puffing like a steam engine when Kit gestured for the hammer.

“My turn.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again, and handed over the tool. She slammed away until she, too, was sweating. He thought she would give up when the bolt head sailed off and ricocheted against the bricks. Two down. Two to go. They took turns slamming at the third, but it remained stubbornly set.

He bit back a groan as he set down the sledgehammer. “Let’s check Tot. Have some water and something besides candy.”

“But...”

He shook his head, held firm. “We’re both sweating and it’s freezing. That’s not a good combination.” He checked his watch. “Almost four. We’ll have two more hours of sunlight, if you can call it that.”

Reluctantly, she assented, and they returned to the ATV to find Tot stirring. Kit tucked in the blanket around Tot while he tried to rest his quivering muscles before he rooted around in his pack.

“I’ll make dinner. Should I fix up a bottle?”

“I already have a few premixed in the cooler, but maybe we should try to give her solid stuff when she’s a little more awake. The bottle would be good later before bed, right?”

He pursed his lips. “Makes great sense to me.”

She looked happy that he agreed.

“Back in a jiffy.” At the campfire, he used his penknife to slit open the meal pouches and splash in some water before he nestled them near the flames.

Probably not exactly to specifications, but he wasn’t picky.

Never, ever again would he take indoor heating for granted.

Or running water. Or roads. Or mattresses.

When the packets were blackened, he yanked them free with a stick and let them cool until he could carry them by the corners.

Snowflakes collected on his cap, so he shook his head like a dog before he hopped back into the ATV.

Tot was sitting up in the front seat, gumming a graham cracker.

He leaned over and kissed her on top of the strawberry cap Kit had managed to get on her head.

It remained to be seen how long it would stay there.

She chortled something at him that probably meant, “You look like a man who’s on the verge of collapse. ”

He felt it too, in every complaining rib and joint. The fatigue was getting more difficult to ignore.

Kit joined him in the passenger seat, and he delivered his foil packets, full of steamy noodles that were still slightly crunchy. She provided two plastic spoons, and they dug in.

“Delicious.” The steam from the packet curled around her cheeks. “Reminds me of the days...” She trailed off.

“Keep going,” he said lightly, hungry to know more about her.

“I was married, briefly.”

He hid his surprise. “Really?”

“We went backpacking a few times and ate camping food. Mitch was a whiz at cooking on the trail.”

“A handy skill. How long were you married?”

“Six months.”

“Ah.” He was desperate to know more, to be the person she could confide in, but he knew enough not to push.

“I was young, just before I turned twenty-one.” She ate another spoonful of crunchy noodles and stared into the gooey mess. “After a couple months, I found out I was pregnant.”

Pregnant. Another surprise. Again he waited to see if she would continue.

“I didn’t want the baby.” She said it a shade too loudly, chin up and staring at him, reading his reaction.

When he simply nodded, she took a breath.

“Mitch had been acting distant, not coming home some nights, which he said was due to late business meetings, but I guess I knew the truth even if I didn’t want to acknowledge it.

In my fantasy world, I was hoping when I told him about the baby he’d light up, hug and kiss me, and say, ‘Honey, this is the best news ever. You’re going to be a great mom.

’ And then I’d believe it and start to feel happy about it too.

I’d suddenly want to be a mother. All those feelings I was supposed to have would emerge.

” She twirled her spoon. “Does that shock you? That I wasn’t filled with maternal feelings like other women? That’s bad, right?”

She watched him intently. It was both a question and a statement, and he heard the well of fear in it, that he would condemn her as she’d condemned herself for years, he suspected.

He said a silent prayer that his words would be gentle, godly, true. “Not bad, Kit. That’s honest. You were young. Scared and uncertain. How did Mitch take it?”

She grimaced. “That whole fantasy thing crumbled right quick. He told me he didn’t love me anymore, that our marriage had been a mistake, and the baby was my problem to deal with. That was the second time I saw love fizzle like a blown-out match.”

The second time. “Your parents?”