Snowbound

John presented her with a small, wrapped gift. Smiling,

she had to scramble from bed, hurrying with bare feet

on the cold floor, to get his from her suitcase.

They unwrapped simultaneously, John seeming

pleased with the selection of DVDs she’d bought, all

movies she loved and he hadn’t seen. Wrapped with

them was a pair of tickets to her local multiplex. He

stared down at them.

A little worried, she said, “For when you come to

see me.”

“Thank you.” He nodded. “Open the box.”

His gift was a pair of earrings, pretty ones with

central diamonds surrounded by tiny rubies, but she

was oddly disappointed. No, that was silly—how could

he know enough about her life to give her something

deeply meaningful?

What she wanted most from him, Fiona realized,

couldn’t have been wrapped and tied with a bow,

anyway. What she wanted was for him to tell her why

he was wounded so badly in spirit as well as body.

But, goodness—they were still tap dancing around

all kinds of intimate subjects! Trust came with time,

with knowledge of each other. In the meantime, Fiona

settled happily into the lodge life she remembered,

except now she got to sleep in John’s bed with him.

She waited on guests while he wrestled with a frozen

water pipe, coming back with raw knuckles on one

hand. She found she didn’t mind cleaning the bathrooms or changing bedding when one family left and another arrived and he was busy carrying out bags or

hauling in wood.

She remembered from that first time feeling astonished at the quantity of food her group of kids ate, the laundry they generated. But within a day she realized

there were more people in the lodge now, which meant

more food to prepare, more dishes to wash, more towels

to wash and dry and fold. And this was normal. Three

days of working beside him, and she should have been

exhausted. Instead she was content.

Mostly she loved being wherever John was. Watching him do the simplest task gave her pleasure. Being able to meet his eyes, even when the kitchen was

crowded, in a silent, intimate exchange filled her with

joy. The moments when he touched her in passing, his

hand possessive and knowing, were almost as good as

their kisses when they were alone.

He encouraged her to talk when they had time alone,

as if he were hungry to learn everything about her. She

found herself confessing to things she’d been dismayed

to learn about herself.

“Thanksgiving was weird,” she admitted, when they

took a walk down to the creek. Snow crunched under

their feet, and ahead moving water burbled in an otherwise silent landscape. The cabins, no doubt inviting in summer, looked cold and empty with unmarked snow

burying steps, no smoke coming from metal stovepipes,

and windows glinting blankly. Icicles hung from eaves.

“Do you know,” Fiona continued, as they followed

a path made by cross-country skies and showshoes, “I

think I was jealous? I told myself I was glad Mom is

dating, but then I secretly resented this man because I

had to share her with him. I’m so used to having her to

myself.” She shook her head at the memory and with

one gloved hand brushed snow from a bough that

sprang higher once released from the weight. “They

were really careful not to touch, and we were all so awkward. I’m embarrassed to remember.”

“Even if you’d felt comfortable, they might not

have.” John wore a fleece hat—something he rarely

did. It was so cold today.

“I’m sure. But they were awkward because of me.

Because I sat there wishing Mom hadn’t invited him.

I felt awful when she made a point of telling me

Christmas Eve would be just us. And—” this was the

most humiliating part “—even worse when I said I’d

be away for Christmas and I heard her voice lighten

when she told me not to worry, she wouldn’t have to

be alone.”

“You wanted her to be alone on Christmas Eve?” His

glance was quizzical, his voice gentle.

“No! Of course not!” Fiona laughed to hide her discomfiture. “I just wanted her to miss the time when it was enough for it just to be the two of us.”

John stopped. “Do you think she doesn’t?”