by Anne Chase
Little Rebecca was too busy drinking her mama's milk to pay attention, but Daisy noticed, extending her head toward Becca and sniffing the air inquisitively.
"Daisy's normally a very curious gal," Angus said. "I can tell by her interest in you that she's starting to feel better."
"Good," Becca said.
When Nick finished packing, the four humans left the barn and trudged through the snow to the farmhouse. Angus was right about the storm. The wind was weaker now, the snow barely falling.
As they stepped into the kitchen, Marianne said, "The two of you are welcome to stay the night. Won't take but a minute to make up the guest rooms."
Nick shook his head. "The storm's passing. I can use the snowmobile to get Becca back to her cottage."
Becca blinked. She hadn't given a second's thought to where she'd be spending the night. She realized she'd unconsciously assumed that she and Bowzer would crash on the couch in Nick's cabin. Returning home was, of course, the sensible way to conclude her Christmas Eve adventures. So why did that plan seem deflating? Why did she suddenly feel ... disappointed?
Three pairs of eyes swung her way, and she realized they were all waiting for her to respond. "Of course," she said. "If that's okay with you, Nick."
"Happy to," Nick said.
"You got everything?" Marianne asked him.
"I think so. I'll go get the snowmobile started." He turned to Becca. "See you out there in a minute?"
"Sure thing."
"I'll give you a hand," Angus said.
The two men left.
"I'm packing leftovers for both of you," Marianne said.
"You don't have to do that," Becca protested.
"Nonsense. Won't take but a minute." Quickly and efficiently, Marianne filled plastic containers with hefty helpings of Christmas leftovers and slipped them into a shopping bag. "There," she said.
"Thank you for this. And for everything else, too."
Marianne pulled Becca in for a hug. "Young lady, thank you. You pitched right in and we really appreciate it."
"I'm so glad I was able to help," Becca said as she returned the other woman's hug.
Marianne squeezed some more. "We're so glad you're here, Becca. Welcome to Heartsprings Valley!"
Becca laughed. "Thank you."
"I hope you're feeling happy about moving here."
"Oh, I am," Becca replied as she finally stepped back.
"You got everything?"
Becca looked around as she wrapped her scarf around her neck and zippered up her winter coat. "I think so."
Marianne turned toward the kitchen counter and picked up Becca's wedding ring. "Don't forget this important memento."
"Oh, thank you," Becca said.
Marianne slipped the ring into Becca's winter coat pocket, then gripped her by the shoulder and looked her in the eye.
"You're ready, you know," the older woman said.
Becca's heart thumped. "I'm not sure what you mean," she stammered, even though she knew exactly what Marianne was referring to.
"I think you do," Marianne said with a smile, then gave her another hug. "Now scoot. The doc is waiting for you!"
27
Minutes later, they were off! Becca glanced over her shoulder at Angus and Marianne waving goodbye. Becca held tight to Nick's waist as he steered the snowmobile expertly through the twists and turns of the road.
The roaring winds of the nor'easter had faded away. The night was clear and quiet now, the only sound in Becca's ears the gentle throb of the snowmobile as it smoothly made its way over the fresh snow. Above them, the moon's pale light reflected off the pristine snowfall, casting everything in a soft silvery glow.
Her earlier anxieties about being on a snowmobile were long gone. Now that she knew what to expect, she felt herself really starting to enjoy herself. Nick was a skilled driver, and he was deliberately maintaining a careful pace. The unblemished beauty of Heartsprings Valley's winter wonderland greeted her no matter where she looked.
Gradually, the road rose from the valley as they headed toward Nick's mountain cabin. Almost too soon, they were there. Nick eased them onto the driveway, turned off the engine, and stepped off the snowmobile. "Sit tight," he said. "Won't take but a minute." She turned and watch him unload the ski-pod. He picked up the two duffel bags and medical kit and carried them to the garage, then set them down and pulled open the garage door with a single sure movement. He made it all look so easy, his actions smooth and effortless.
He stowed his gear into the garage, then pulled the garage door back down. "I'll get Bowzer," he said.
Becca stood up to stretch her legs, then stepped off the snowmobile to check out the empty ski-pod. Inside the pod was a seat for a passenger. The pod itself had a windshield of sorts to let the passenger see outside and enjoy the view.
She heard a joyful bark and turned around to see Bowzer bounding toward her.
"Bowzer!" she said with a laugh as the dog ran into her arms. "How are you? Did you and Divina had good time?"
Bowzer answered with another happy bark before he started sniffing her legs and arms intently. Had he noticed the scent of baby Rebecca? Maybe someday she'd be able to introduce the two of them. How interesting it would be if, just for a day, she could experience the world like he did.
Nick returned from the cabin.
"How's everything inside?" Becca asked.
"All good. The queen and her new buddy behaved themselves."
She laughed and have Bowzer a pat. "Good boy."
He gestured to the pod. "Let's get this guy inside so we can get you two home."
"Okay, boy," she said as she took hold of his collar and led him toward the pod, "hop in."
Bowzer wasn't sure at first what she wanted, but he let himself be guided into the pod. He looked around the interior as he stepped in, then gave them a perplexed look as Nick shut the pod door.
"You ready, Bowzer?" Becca said. From inside the pod, the big guy cocked his head and stared at her quizzically.
Nick settled into driver's seat. "Ready?"
Becca hopped in behind him and grabbed his waist. "Ready!"
Nick turned on the snowmobile and, with a gentle turn of the throttle, eased them forward.
As they reached the road, she glanced back to check on Bowzer and found him looking right back at her, mouth open, tongue lolling, eyes ablaze with curiosity and excitement. He was enjoying his first snowmobile ride way more than she had!
With a smile on her face, she turned back around. Her gloved hands gripped Nick's waist as she settled in. Never in a million years would she have imagined being where she was right now. Every turn of the road, every rev of the motor, every rush of cold night air, brought her closer to truly experiencing the joy of the moment as it was happening.
The memory of holding that darling baby llama in her arms flashed before her, creating such a feeling of warmth inside that she suddenly felt invincible against the winter freeze. That little baby animal, with her big soft eyes, looking up at her with so much innocent trust and love — oh, her heart had melted right then and there. And when Marianne had named her Rebecca — such an unexpected Christmas gift.
She gripped Nick's waist tighter and leaned into his strong back. He noticed right away and turned back and yelled, "Everything okay?"
"Everything's perfect!" she yelled back, not budging an inch.
"There in a few!"
Indeed, the twinkling lights of Heartsprings Valley were fast approaching. As they reached the outskirts of town, Nick slowed and, as quietly as possible, drove them down the silent streets, past houses that were mostly dark, the residents fast asleep. The fresh snowfall reflected the glow of the festive Christmas displays — prancing reindeer, jolly snowmen, huge candy canes, and colorful lights decorating houses and wrapping trees and lining walkways.
She didn't even know what time it was, but it had to be approaching midnight. Though the nor'easter had moved on, it had certainly left a hefty reminder
of its power. The town would wake up to a whole lot of snow on Christmas Day!
As the snowmobile turned onto her street, she knew she wasn't ready for the ride to end. She wanted it to go on. She wanted more of what she was experiencing right now.
But all too soon, she caught a glimpse of her adorable cottage, now fully covered by fresh snow. Nick brought the snowmobile to a stop and shut off the engine.
The gentle whoosh of silence filled her ears. For a long second, neither she nor Nick moved.
A wave of self-consciousness washed over her as she realized her hands were still tightly gripping Nick's waist and she was still leaning into his back. Regretfully, she pulled away and stood up. Carefully, her legs taking a second or two to adjust, she stepped off the snowmobile, gasping with surprise as her boots sank nearly a foot into fresh snow.
"Oh my!" she said. "Look how snow much we got."
Nick followed her off the snowmobile. He removed his helmet and looked around at the quiet street, a big grin on his face.
"Lots of shoveling tomorrow," he said.
She smiled and removed her helmet as well. She liked that big wide grin of his. It transformed his handsome face, showing that he was relaxed — that he was enjoying himself.
The helmet had mussed up his shaggy brown hair. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she reached up to straighten the thick locks. As her hand brushed the hair from his forehead, he went still, his mood shifting from relaxation to alertness to — something more.
She had his full and undivided attention now. His deep brown eyes didn't waver from hers. He was so tall — so solid and strong and assured. She found it hard to breathe. What was she doing?
He leaned in toward her, his lips approaching hers —
Until she gasped and pulled away.
"I'm sorry," she said, taking a step back. "I didn't mean —"
"Didn't mean what?" he asked quietly.
She forced herself to look up and hold his gaze. "It's been such a long day. I know you must be worn out."
His brown eyes regarded her steadily. "I'm not tired."
"Oh," she said, then realized what he meant. "Oh."
The mix of emotions that roared through her in that moment — panic mixed with surprise and eagerness — felt fresh but also familiar.
And oh-so-confusing.
He seemed to see every emotion that flitted across her face. "I can tell you're anxious to get inside," he said, taking a step back, patience and understanding in his tone. He looked at her with unmistakable affection.
He reached down and took her hands in his. "I'm really glad you moved to Heartsprings Valley, Becca." He squeezed her hands. "Really glad."
Her cheeks flushed red. "Likewise," she stammered. "I want to thank you for everything you've done for me today, and for Bowzer."
"Let's get you guys inside."
He stepped to the ski pod and unfastened the door to let Bowzer out. Bowzer jumped into the snow and nuzzled his head against Nick's leg, then turned to Becca.
"Good boy," she said as she leaned down to give him a pat. "Go do your business, then let's get inside."
Her canine companion seemed to understand, bounding his way through the snow toward a nearby tree.
"Both of us are so grateful," Becca said as she handed Nick her helmet.
"Glad to be of help." He tossed her helmet into the pod and shut the pod's door, then watched the dog's slow return through the deep snow. "I think I'll swing by Bert's to see if he's still up. Maybe I can give him a hand with the snowplow."
Bowzer reached them and Nick said, "You got everything?"
"Yep," she said as she patted her pockets to check for her keys and phone.
He reached into the pod and took out two containers of leftovers. "Don't forget these."
"Thank you," she said as she took them. The two of them stood rooted in place for a few long seconds, their earlier awkwardness back in full force. Then Becca turned to Bowzer. "Let's get you inside."
She stepped through the fresh snow in her small front yard to her cottage's front door, reached into her coat for her keys, pulled them out and unlocked her door.
As Bowzer shook himself free of snow and slipped inside, Becca looked back toward Nick. "Thank you again! And Merry Christmas!"
"See you soon, Becca," Nick said. "Merry Christmas." He put his helmet back on, gave her a long look, then settled onto the snowmobile and started it up. With a gentle twist of the throttle, he turned the snowmobile around and, with a final wave, slowly drove away.
28
She watched his figure recede into the night, her insides churning with feelings she wasn't yet ready to face. When she could no longer see him, she stamped her boots to dislodge the snow, stepped into her cottage, and shut the door behind her.
Oh my goodness. What a day. What a night. So much had happened. So much that was wonderful and exciting and scary and surprising. So many challenges, and not just of the physical sort. Riding through a blizzard on a snowmobile was a piece of cake compared with the emotional upheaval that had suddenly gripped her.
She set the leftovers on the entry table, took off her gloves, unbuttoned her heavy winter coat, and slipped out of her boots. She unwrapped the scarf from around her neck and hung it over her coat. Spying her house slippers next to her comfy sofa, she made her way to them and slipped them on.
The fireplace was dark and the living room chilly, so she turned on the gas and watched the fire crackle to life. Almost immediately, the fire's welcome heat warmed her cheeks.
She wasn't prepared to tackle what was going on inside her — not yet — so she stood up and took the leftovers into the kitchen. She placed them in the fridge — they'd be delicious tomorrow, when she reheated them — and checked the gingerbread dough. She didn't usually allow the dough settle for twelve hours, but no matter.
By all rights, she should be exhausted. Instead, she felt a nervous energy, a restlessness, that told her she wasn't quite ready for sleep.
"I'll roll you out and get you in the oven," she said out loud to the dough. "And in the morning, I'll decorate."
She nodded, pleased that her plan would keep her busy and focused for a bit longer. Bowzer stepped into the kitchen, curious about who she was talking to. She gave him a smile. "Don't you worry. Mama's just rambling." He seemed to nod, then turned and headed back to the living room, where he jumped up onto the couch and settled in.
The next few minutes were taken up with preparations that she knew by heart — rolling out the dough to the perfect thickness, cutting the dough into the shapes of walls and roof. Before she knew it, she found herself sliding the pan of dough into the oven and setting the timer.
What to do next? Certainly not think. The kitchen needed a bit of cleaning up — that was it. For the next few minutes, while the gingerbread baked, she handwashed her rolling pin and dirty dishes and cleaned the countertops. After she refreshed Bowzer's water bowl, she stepped into the living room and pulled her phone from her winter coat and plugged it into the socket to charge it up.
The ping of the oven's timer told her the gingerbread was ready. She leaned down in front of the oven and peered in. Yes, they were perfect. She grabbed an oven mitt, opened the oven, and pulled out the tray. Immediately, the kitchen was filled with the delicious aroma of hot gingerbread. With a smile on her face, she set the tray on top of oven to let it cool, then turned off the oven.
She stepped back into the living room to check on the fire, which was quickly turning the room toasty warm. Bowzer looked up from his spot on the sofa, wagging his tail, encouraging her to join him.
With a start, she realized her ring was missing from the third finger of her left hand. She went to her winter coat and reached inside the pocket. Her fingers closed over the familiar band. As she pulled it out and held it, poised over her ring finger, something Marianne said came back to her. What was it she had said, exactly?
Then she remembered: When Marianne had slipped the ring into
Becca's coat pocket, she hadn't referred to the ring as a ring. Instead, she'd called it a "memento." A reminder of times past.
Becca inhaled sharply, the emotional tumult she'd been trying to suppress rising powerfully within her. Was Marianne right? Was her wedding ring — her symbol of commitment to her departed husband — truly a part of her past?
Her heart cracked open as the question pushed through her. She felt faint, her face flushing with heat, her heart rate ratcheting up. Her marriage — was it truly part of her past? Was it — and there was no way for her to avoid this painful truth — over?
Her heard split open, pulled wide apart and exposed as never before, as she realized that Marianne was right.
A gasp escaped her throat. Tears filled her eyes.
It was time to accept, truly and finally and utterly, that her beloved husband, the first man she'd ever loved, was gone. She would always honor him and treasure him. She would always miss him. Every day, she would remember him. If he was looking over her now — and sometimes she sensed he was — she knew he would want her to value the life she'd been blessed with. Life wasn't just about looking back. It was also about looking forward to each day and experiencing life's simple joys — like breathing in fresh winter air, making gingerbread houses, and adopting a wonderful dog. It was about making new friends, helping her neighbors, honoring her family, and so much more. Life, her departed husband would tell her, was meant to be lived.
A raw sob tore through her, followed by another and another. With the ring gripped tight in her fist, she flung herself onto her sofa and cried in a way she hadn't cried in months and maybe years. The wells of grief came from deep within, so full and powerful that they pained her, her gasps for breath the only respite from the waves of emotion surging through her.
She had no idea how long she lay there sobbing, curled up in a ball, the hard edge of the wedding ring's diamond pressing into her palm, as three years of loss rolled through her. But eventually, the raging storm passed. Her breathing became less ragged.
She became aware of Bowzer next to her, gazing at her anxiously, his snout quivering with concern. Such an adorable dog. She was so lucky to have him in her life.