"Get dressed," I laughed. "The snow is calling your name."
"Snow?" she said, looking momentarily confused. "Right, snow," she said finally, making me laugh again as she hurried off to the bathroom with an armload of clothes.
Fifteen minutes later, we were out in front of her cottage watching big snowflakes fall lazily from the sky. The ground was already covered with an inch of the snow, making the ground crunch beneath our feet. Everything was peaceful and serene.
"It's beautiful," Ashton exclaimed in a hushed tone as big flakes landed on her upturned face. She slowly turned in a circle with her arms outstretched.
"I'm sure by December you'll feel different," I observed.
"I won't be here in December to…" she trailed off.
"Really? I was under the impression you planned on living here permanently," I said, watching her bite her lip. From her expression, I could tell she had slipped up.
"Oh, I haven't decided," she answered. "Do you think enough will fall to make a snow angel and a snowman?" she asked, changing the subject.
I studied her for a moment, debating whether I should pursue the issue. The forced gaiety in her voice convinced me to let it drop. "At the rate it's falling, I bet by noon you'll be able to make a decent snow angel at least. Do you want to go for a walk?" I asked, offering her my hand.
"Yes," she answered as some of her excitement from earlier returned.
"Are you warm enough?" I asked before we headed off toward the trail behind her house.
"Yeah, I can barely walk from all the layers you forced on me," she reminded me.
"Trust me, you'll be thankful for all those layers," I said, linking my gloved fingers with hers. "Besides, just yesterday you were laid up with a fever and a cold. You probably shouldn't even be outside."
"I'm fine. There's no way I was missing the first snow."
"You're awfully stubborn."
"So? You're bossy, and I overlook that," she reminded me.
"Not bossy. I just like things to get done the way I want and direct others to follow them out," I said, defending myself.
"Yeah, that doesn't sound bossy," she teased, rolling her eyes. "Have you always 'not bossed' people around?" she added.
"Liked things my way? Probably. When I was younger and it was just my mom and me, I felt the pressure of being the man of the house. My mom always seemed to have the weight of the world on her shoulders, so I wanted to help relieve some of the pressure for her. By the time I was thirteen, I'd taken over all the maintenance of the trailer we lived in. I became an expert at fixing leaky faucets, reattaching loose paneling and making sure our roof didn't leak during rainy season. Home Depot became my playground on weekends, as I took every workshop they offered. Seeing my interests, I think my mom had the idea that I would grow up to be an architect or a contractor. I think she was disappointed when I told her I wanted to be a journalist."
"Why would she be disappointed?"
"I think she was under the impression that a journalist was a fluff job that I wouldn't make any money doing. She wanted me to have security and money for a rainy day. Years of living week to week had jaded her and she put little stock into dreams. She eventually got over her aversion of my job choice, but didn't live long enough to see it amount to anything."
"I'm sorry. I bet she'd be proud of your successes if she saw you now," Ashton said earnestly.
"I'm not entirely sure she would. I think she'd be disappointed in some of the decisions I've made."
"I think everyone feels that way."
"Do you?" I asked, keeping my voice casual.
"Of course, but we can't please everyone. All we can hope is that we learn from the decisions we've made and anyone we've hurt along the way will forgive us someday."
"So, you believe that if someone betrays you, they deserve a second chance?" I asked.
"I would hope I'd get a second chance, so yes, I'd give someone another chance," she said with an intensity that matched my own.
"Fair enough," I said, getting the answer I was hoping for. I didn't know if that applied to me, but I had to hope so. I kept delaying telling her the truth, but I knew the clock was ticking, and I would have to tell her soon.
"Besides being a handyman, what else were you like when you were younger?" she asked as we trampled through the snow.