She shrugged, then waved at me as I turned back toward the path we’d cut through the snow. As much as I hated to go
—as badly as I wanted to take her in my arms and call off my plans for the rest of the day—I took a calming breath, then slowly made my way toward the house. Just a few more hours.
A few hours was nothing.
I’ve got this.
“Can I open my eyes now?”
Taylor’s voice shook the slightest bit as I carefully guided her through the snow. It probably wasn’t the best of ideas doing this in the middle of winter, but the cabin was right around the corner. It hadn’t taken long for me to gather what I needed from town, but keeping Taylor occupied with something else while I did my own things took some work along with a little bit of help from her mom.
She easily conjured up a reason to keep Taylor at the house for a bit while I walked back to the cabin on my own. Once Taylor left the house and was on her way, Sue called to give me enough warning so I could meet Taylor halfway.
“Did my mom put you up to this?” Taylor released a nervous laugh, then hesitated when we rounded a corner.
“No,” I said as I helped her navigate around a snowbank,
“but she did help.” I held her steady when she stumbled over a raised tree root. “Eyes closed,” I reminded her when she went to open her eyes.
She frowned but did as I asked. “I feel like we should’ve been there by now.”
Oh, we are. I was actually walking her down a new path, slightly off-course, to a frozen pond I’d come across a few days ago.
“Okay, open them.”
When she did, her jaw went slack and her hand fell to her side. In front of us was a small fishing hole Brad had told me about during one of his stories about Taylor’s childhood.
Apparently, they used to ice fish on the pond, but Taylor always watched from the snowy banks.
That’s not why we’re here.
Along the water’s edge was a pair of skates, and behind them, etched into the snow after hours of thought and practice
—
“I love you?” Taylor looked at me then as all of the color drained from her face. “Did you do this?”
“I don’t think the chipmunk knows how to write,” I said with a laugh. “Once Brad mentioned how much this pond froze in the winter, I decided to have a look knowing you’d never actually come this way on your own.” Facing Taylor, and after taking her hands in mine, I continued. “You don’t have to skate. You don’t even have to step on the ice if you don’t want to.”
“Then why do this? Why here?”
“Because I can see how much you enjoy it.”
“At the rink,” she reminded me. There was a slight edge to her voice, one I hadn’t heard before.
“I was completely safe on the ice earlier,” I told her, “but if you’re uncomfortable, I won’t pressure you.” With that, I took her in my arms. When I spoke again, my voice was so low, I wondered if she even heard me. “But I do love you. It doesn’t matter if you go out on the ice or not.”
r /> She was quiet for a long moment, her arms locked around me. At first, I thought she was shaking because she was cold.
Maybe she was laughing. But when I drew back to meet her gaze, her eyes were full of tears.
Afraid I’d done something wrong, I walked her over to a fallen tree and sat her down, crouching in the snow in front of her once I did. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my heart skipping when she looked at me again. “Was it something I said?”
Those weren’t happy tears.
She swallowed hard, her eyes focused on the ice behind me. “No. It’s lovely. Really.”
“But?” I urged, unable to ignore the tightness in her voice.