Chapter 13 Cindy #2
Her heart tumbled as he picked up the reins and clicked at Copper, sharp and sure, proving the horse really had been tamed by the sleigh rides.
Copper set off, clip-clopping over the snowy path that would take them past the cabins and deeper into the property trails.
As they glided along, Jack reached into the back for a red plaid blanket, draping it over their legs. Once they were tucked in, he lifted a shoulder as he adjusted the reins and kept Copper to an uncharacteristically slow pace.
“I’m not used to this speed from Flying Jack,” she joked.
“I read the mood of my passengers,” he said. “You look like a lady who likes to take her time.”
“At certain things,” she said, leaning back as she felt tension in her shoulders and neck melt away. “And, wow, this is a good way to end a busy day.”
He threw her a smile. “I’m glad you’re with me.”
“Me, too.” Cindy admitted, sneaking a long peek at his profile, another thing she always loved about Jack.
The thought jolted her—always loved? Did she still? Of course, they’d been married for twenty years, raised a beautiful daughter together, and had history.
Was that love?
Right now, in this dark, snowy, magical moment? It felt like it could be.
As if he read her mind, he slipped his hand over hers, their gloves pressing together between them.
“That okay?” he whispered as Copper took the next bend a little faster at the last cabin, making her wonder if he meant the handholding or the turning.
“Yes.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s okay.”
“Not terrified?” he teased.
Only of the fact that she couldn’t remember a single reason why she’d ever filed those divorce papers. Not one.
The runners shushed through the snow as Copper kept up an easy trot. They followed the wide, rolling trail that climbed gently toward the higher hills. The pine trees stood tall and frosted, all accompanied by the jingle of sleigh bells, and the steady rhythm of Copper’s hooves.
“This never gets old,” Jack said quietly.
Cindy turned her face toward the chilly wind, but the sleigh’s blanket and Jack’s warmth beside her kept the cold at bay. “No. It doesn’t.”
They passed the entrance to the creek, the lantern light catching a glimpse of something between the tree line, near the icy water.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, Benny and Red built a fort for…some Christmas surprise they’re working on.”
“A Christmas surprise? What is it?”
Laughing, he put his arm around her. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it?”
She shrugged, deciding he was right. She leaned into Jack, looking out toward the resort. The lift lights glittered, closed for the night but swaying like stars hanging over the mountain.
“It’s beautiful out here,” she said.
Jack glanced sideways. “Speaking of beautiful…so are you.”
She wanted to look away but couldn’t. In fact, she wanted to breathe and couldn’t do that either.
“Jack,” she whispered. “Did you bring me out here to flirt?”
“Just like the first time,” he said with a laugh. “In fact…” He gave the reins a tug to the left as they reached the turn to Bluebell Crossing. “I’m in the mood to recreate that night.”
If he remembered her hat, then he certainly remembered…their first kiss. The thought of recreating that simply melted her.
“Now, that could be dangerous,” she said quietly, but made no effort to move away.
“Copper knows the way,” he told her. “I added it to the sleigh ride trail for the longer rides. And every time I’m up there, I think about you.”
She sighed.
“I do a lot of that lately,” he confessed as Copper trotted up the hill.
“Well, technically, you work for me,” she said, fighting the urge to sink into what he was offering—a connection, a romance, a reliving of such happier days.
“I’m not thinking about work,” he said. “I’m just…sleigh-riding down memory lane.”
She smiled at that, letting silence stretch between them like a snow-laden branch, delicate and heavy, as his sweet words fell like a few flakes fluttering around them.
“What are you remembering the most?” she finally asked.
“Everything. All the moments and memories. All the love and laughter. I know, I know. I sound like a sappy Christmas card, but it’s how I feel being here. And with you. And Nic. The whole family, but mostly you.” His words tumbled out, his voice thick with emotion that squeezed her heart.
“Why did you come back, Jack?”
“What do you mean?” He blinked in surprise at the question.
“When Nic asked you to come back here, to do this…” Cindy took a deep breath. “Did you really agree just because you wanted to teach her to ski again? Or you cared about the lodge? Or…”
He inhaled slowly. “Because I missed everything. The lodge. The smell of the air here. This place…it’s part of me. I was raised in these mountains, and I lived here for fifty years.” He looked at her, eyes full of something soft and sincere. “Truth?”
Her breath caught. “Please,” she whispered.
“I didn’t come back just for sleigh rides,” he said. “I mean, that’s what I told myself. But the thought of seeing you…of spending these weeks with you…” He glanced away, laughing easily as he shook his head. “I jumped at the chance, to be honest.”
She looked down at the blanket on her lap, her heart thumping against her ribs.
“I was excited when you came back,” she said.
“You didn’t look excited,” he scoffed. “You looked dumbfounded.”
She laughed. “Well, I didn’t want to admit it, but…I was happy.”
“I was happy, too. I’m still happy. Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”
They didn’t speak again until the sleigh crested the final hill. There they reached the overlook where two trails connected at a pasture that, in spring, was filled with tiny blue flowers, giving it the name of Bluebell Crossing.
To Cindy, it was, and always would be, where she and Jack had their first kiss.
Even in the waning light, the view was as breathtaking as she remembered—rolling white hills, shadows curling between evergreens, the sky glowing gold and lavender with the last whisper of light, the mountain looming high and holy.
Jack pulled Copper to a stop. “Want to give him a break and walk in the snow?”
“Sure.”
They climbed out of the sleigh, hitting the drifts of snow. Cindy turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. The beauty. The stillness. The memories.
“When you look back on our marriage,” he said, keeping his arm firmly around her shoulders so her revolution ended facing him. “What do you remember most? What is the memory that flashes into your mind?”
She considered the question for a long time, appreciating it, and wanting to give it an honest answer.
“There are snapshots,” she finally said, sliding an arm around him so they could walk around the crossing. “Not like the photo album, but more real life. The moment you said ‘I do,’ and the look on your face when they put Nic in your arms.”
He smiled, squeezing his eyes as though that got him.
“I remember you coming in from working on the property, looking a lot like”—she eased back and brushed his jacket—“this. Rugged and outdoorsy and strong and…” She didn’t finish but laughed.
“Say it,” he teased.
“Sexy.”
He chuckled, liking that. “What else?” he asked, obviously enjoying the answers.
“I remember I used to wake up in the middle of the night.” She slowed her step and came to a stop, knowing she was about to confess something she’d never told him, but wanted him to know.
“Next to you, of course. You sleep on your back, and I could see your profile in the darkness of our bedroom, your chest rising and falling. I could hear your breath and feel your warmth, our toes touching under the blanket.”
She saw him swallow as he looked down at her, silent, listening, remembering.
“That’s when I loved you most,” she whispered.
“Those moments in the middle of the night. I felt so safe and secure, so protected and loved. I was often overwhelmed by how much I loved you. I would kiss your shoulder. I’d just lean over and press my lips right here…
” She touched the front of his shoulder.
“And I would mouth the words, ‘I love you,’ over and over.”
He let out a soft whimper and closed his eyes. “I slept through that kind of love?”
“It was my secret.”
Without answering, he slid both arms around her, pulling her into his chest, looking down at her. “When I think about us, all my senses get involved.”
She frowned, searching his face, not following.
“I hear you laughing with MJ in the kitchen, and that was like music to me. I can smell the baby shampoo on your hands after you’d bathed Nic and came to cuddle on the couch with me. I see you rushing to the door to greet me after a trip…” He flinched. “There were way too many trips, Cin.”
She felt her shoulders sink. “And now you’ve hit the bad stuff.”
For a long, long time, he looked at her. His gaze was soft, but not the look of a man about to kiss her. This was something else entirely.
“I know you’ve forgiven me,” he said. “We’ve talked about that, and I know it. But I want to tell you something you need to believe.”
She inched back, the sheer force of his words hitting her. “Yes?”
“I never really stopped loving you, Cindy.” His voice was gruff, and low, and so genuine. “I loved you pretty much from the day we were here and kissed thirty-plus years ago, to right this minute and all the ones in between. I’ve never loved anyone else, and I don’t think I will.”
“Oh, Jack.” She heard her voice crack. “That’s…” Dizzying, she thought as she darn near swayed in his arms. “Wow.”
He tightened his grip. “I know it’s been ten years. I know we hurt each other. But I also know that marrying you was the best thing I ever did and losing you was the worst.”
Her eyes stung.
“I’m not asking for a miracle,” Jack continued. “But is there any possibility, any at all in heaven or hell, that we could try again?”
She felt the whole world tilt sideways as her next breath caught in her chest. “Are you serious?” she asked on a ragged whisper.
“Yes,” he said simply. “I am.”
She inched back, pressing her hands to her chest, staring up at him. “Jack…” Of course she wanted to say yes. She wanted to melt into this moment, under the spell of the mountain and the man she’d first kissed in this spot.
It would be so easy. So exciting. Like having a past and a future again, instead of feeling stuck in a slightly dreary present. Like living in color, hearing music, or tasting cake, or…giving in to temptation for something that could hurt her again.
She dug for common sense and a different memory—the ease with which he’d walked away, the look of resignation when she told him it was over, the dozens and dozens of times he chose skiing and work and travel and something else over her.
She had no way to believe that could change. What if this was just the memories talking? The magic of the season and the snow? The hope they could recapture something that was so brutally lost?
“Bad idea?” He tried to laugh after her silence lasted a beat too long, clearly taking it as a rejection.
Was it?
“I just…” Biting her lip, she leaned into him, then dropped her head onto his shoulder, his jacket pressing against her cheeks. Vaguely aware that tears slipped through her nearly frozen eyelashes, she clung to him while every emotion a woman could feel ricocheted through her body.
Finally, she lifted her face, looking at him, silent and stunned and…shockingly close to saying yes.
“Now I’m dumbfounded,” she breathed into a laugh. “And I don’t know what to say.”
“It’s fine. I understand. My time has come and gone and I just…I had to let you know I’ve been thinking about it. Fantasizing, in fact.”
She opened her mouth to say she had, too, but something stopped her. Something protected her. She never wanted to hurt like she had that Christmas Day when he’d taken off to cover a competition and the last thing she’d said was…leave and this marriage is over.
And he left.
For that reason, she couldn’t say yes now.
He stepped back and gave a sad smile, tipping his head toward the horse.
“We better get back,” he said. “Copper should rest before his last ride.”
And Cindy, she realized with a sad thud, was not getting a second first kiss.
Her eyes burned, but she lifted her face and let the snowflakes melt on her cheeks. That way, he’d never know she’d cried.