Her breath clouded the frosty air for a magical moment, then disappeared.
"Do you notice anything different?"
Mariah heard the hesitant pride in his voice and she smiled, glancing around the farm. "Well, the barn is still standing, the bunkhouse looks the same, the woodpiles just as high, the—" She gasped. "Oh, my God, Jake . . . "
"I took it down. "
She took a cautious step forward, her gaze riveted to the end of the walkway. The picket fence was gone. That whole corner of the property was wide open. An unbroken, pristine layer of snow rolled from the house, over the road, and into forever. There was nothing to stop it.
She stared at the empty space where the fence had been and felt a dizzying mix of emotions. Fear, exhilaration, relief.
Jake looked up at her, his cheeks pink from the cold. "I didnt want you to look at it every day. "
At his simple words, so caring and understanding, Mariah felt an emotion unlike any shed ever known. Deep and drenching, it consumed her, filled her with an impossible, light-headed warmth. "I never even thought about taking it down," she said quietly, wondering why she hadnt.
"I thought maybe if it wasnt there . . . "
She gazed down at him, seeing hope and fear in his green eyes. For a split second, she saw herself as he must see her. A thirty-four-year-old spinster who ached for a man who didnt love her and couldnt leave her own farm. And she was ashamed.
Tears filled her eyes. She brushed a wayward lock of hair from his forehead; her fingers lingered lovingly at his temple. "What did you think?" she asked in a halting, throaty voice.
He swallowed nervously. "I thought maybe . . . if it wasnt there, you could someday walk past it. "
Walk past it. The unexpected words lodged in her heart. She lifted her chin and stared at the snowy emptiness that stretched beyond her farm and melted into the foothills in the distance. There was no fence there anymore; no fence to stop her, no latch to lift, no gate to push open. Nothing to remind her every day of her irrational, stupid fear.
She tried to imagine leaving the farm. Fear spilled through her, icy cold and threatening. Sweat broke out on her forehead, itched against her scalp. But it was a different kind of fear, softer, without the suffocating, debilitating sense of panic.
"Maybe I could. " She said the words quietly, unaware that shed even been about to speak.
The thought filled her with an incredible sense of hope. For the first time in fifteen years, she really believed it was possible. Not easy, perhaps, but possible. The world didnt scare her as much anymore.
If she practiced diligently, took a few baby steps forward every day, and truly let herself believe, maybe she could do it. A smile tugged at her mouth. "Maybe . . . "
Jake turned to her. "I love you, Mariah. Merry Christmas. "
She turned to him, gazed down at him through the stinging curtain of her tears.
Pulling him into her arms, she gave him a fierce, loving hug. "I love you, too, Jake.
Merry Christmas. "
Mad Dog saw the farm in the distance and stopped. The boxy farmhouse sat like a perfect tooth in the center of endless snow-covered fields. Dozens of skeletal apple trees fanned out from the house, their bare limbs draped in elegant white.
For the first time since he left, he felt warm. A smile curved his lips. He was home.
Then the smile slid slowly downward. Something was wrong. He glanced around, cataloging the orchard, the house, the barn. Everything looked the same, but something felt . . . different.
The fence was gone.
He smiled again, feeling a surge of pride for Mariah. Shed done it. Jesus Christ, shed taken down the white picket fence. He could see the repetitive depressions in the snow where the slats had been. It was the best welcome he could have imagined.
He reslung his bag over his back and strolled toward the house. There was a spring in his step that had been missing for weeks. Excitement thudded with every beat of his heart. He couldnt wait to see his family again, couldnt wait to be welcomed back into their loving arms.
"Mad Dog?"
He grinned and glanced up. Jake stood beside the bunkhouse, carrying a load of firewood. "Hiya, kid. I told you Id be back. "
Jakes mouth dropped open. The firewood slid from his arms and thumped into the snow at his feet. "Might be back," he muttered, staring at Mad Dog through huge, round eyes. "You said you might be back. "