Chapter 3
Dan
The car climbed steadily up the mountain.
The driver had picked us up at the airport when we’d landed thirty minutes ago.
When we’d started the drive, the bushland beside the road had been dusted white in patches.
But now, snow was spread as far as the eye could see, broken only by rocky outcrops and the canopies of towering gum trees.
Lorraine and I sat in the back seat watching the world go by.
Her woollen hat and gloves were in her lap, and her cheeks were rosy from the heat in the car.
Her expression was thoughtful. Every so often, she would glance at me and offer a small smile.
We hadn’t spoken much since the driver had bundled our bags in the back and we’d climbed inside the small four-wheel drive.
The driver glanced at us in the rearview mirror. “Looks like the storm’s comin’ in earlier than expected. Might get snowed in for a few days. Hope you have plenty of supplies.”
I looked out the window and studied the steel-grey sky. It hung heavy over the mountain, like a winter rug on a horse.
“The cabin is supposed to be well-stocked.”
Lorraine gave me a sidelong look, her brown eyes creased at the corners, and her lips twitched as she gave me a small nudge. “Did you plan this, Dr. Dan?”
I smiled. “It took me fifty years to get you alone. I’m not wasting it.”
She huffed out a soft laugh and returned her attention to the window. She was nervous. If she wasn’t, she would have had a fun comeback. I wanted to reach over and take her hand to reassure her that she didn’t need to be. But it didn’t feel right to intrude on her introspection at that moment.
Was she already regretting saying yes? The weekend hadn’t even started.
A lady like Lorraine didn’t need a man in her life.
There was no space for me to fill. There was nothing I could give her that she couldn’t give herself.
All I could hope was that I could add to her happiness.
Be someone steady who showed up for her, someone she could rely on. Someone who could make her happy.
It was that last bit I wasn’t too sure about. Actually, I wasn’t sure about any of it. I didn’t know if I could ever be enough for her.
In my business, I was decisive; I was a man of action. I made life and death decisions on a daily basis. But in this car, sitting next to the woman I loved, I had no clue what I was doing. And I was scared. Any wrong move could destroy us before we even started.
The driver kept talking—something about snow gum trees—but I barely heard him. I was too busy trying not to stare at Lorraine. I was a mature adult who should know better than to ogle a woman as she sat beside me. But my eyes were drawn to her.
Her short grey hair had been flattened by her hat as we’d waited for the driver. She seemed to glow in her light green woollen jumper complemented with a red scarf. Any other time I would have said she glowed because of the warm light from the sun, but there wasn’t any. It was bleak out there.
By the time we reached the cabin, snow was falling—slow moving flurries, nothing like what the sky had warned.
The driver helped us unload our bags. “I’ll be back for you Monday, as long as the road is open.”
“Thanks, mate.” I grabbed our bags and slung mine over my shoulder. I watched him drive off before turning to Lorraine. “Ready?”
She nodded. Her wide smile encouraged me to reach for her hand. She placed hers in mine, and we walked toward the cabin on the cleared path. I held hers firm, not wanting to let it go.
The snow crunched beneath our feet. The snowbank beside the path was probably two feet deep.
The door was unlocked for us. We stepped inside onto polished timber floors, covered in mismatched rugs and carpets.
It was stylish but homely. A stone fireplace took up nearly one wall.
In it, a fire burned, warming the small cabin.
Above us was an open loft with a bed. The kitchen was modest but well-equipped. Small and perfect.
I stepped inside first and shook the snow from my boots. I kept hold of Lorraine’s hand as she pulled her boots off and slid her feet into the Ugg boots I’d ordered from the resort. She sighed.
“I thought you’d appreciate them,” I said.
She raised her eyebrows in question.
“I ordered them from the resort. It was part of the welcome package.”
“You chose well.”
I grinned. “Isabelle told me your shoe size.”
She shook her head. “Did that earn her another day’s pay?”
I laughed. “She knows how to drive a deal, that one.”
Even though the lights were on in the cabin, it suddenly became darker. Lorraine wandered to the window. “The driver was right,” she said. “This storm’s going to hit hard.”
“Remember that high school camp when that summer storm hit?” I asked.
She nodded. “The lightning was cracking so close to our tents. Scared the hell out of me each time.”
“You and me both.”
She turned to face me. “I was supposed to be in the tent with some of the other girls but snuck into yours when it was lights out because they were driving me crazy.”
I smiled. It had been one of the best nights of my life. “The storm hit, and there was no way you were going to go back in the middle of it.”
We’d fallen asleep together. I’d held her close, her back to my chest, as the storm raged above us. Even now I could remember the smell of her strawberry shampoo. I should have made my move then. I’d regretted not doing it for fifty years.
She laughed. “We got into so much trouble the next morning.”
It was worth it. I prayed for a storm to happen every night after that to no avail. I’d lost my chance.
“At least we’re not in a tent this time,” I said.
The resort got the Ugg boots order right. I hope they’d done the same with the food. I wouldn’t win any points if we were stuck for the weekend with nothing to fill our bellies. I strode over to the fridge and pulled the door open—eggs, bacon, butter, jam, and artisan coffee. Perfect.
“We’ve got food and a fire, and each other for company,” I said. “Can’t ask for much more.”
She looked at me for a long moment. “Four days.”
“Yep.”
“Just the two of us.”
I nodded. “Unless you invited someone else.”
Her lips twitched, and she shrugged with a tilt of her head—a move she’d obviously learnt from her grandchildren.
I went to my bag and grabbed the bottles of wine I’d packed. Her favourite from the Hunter. “I hope you didn’t. I only brought enough wine for the two of us.”
“Dan, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that you were trying to butter me up.”
“Is it working?”
“Maybe.” She joined me in the kitchen and opened cupboard doors until she found the wine glasses. She handed two to me. Our fingers brushed, and that small touch filled me with hope.
This whole exchange felt normal. It was comfortable. It was the us I’d become accustomed to over the years. The us I wanted to expand upon.
Maybe this weekend would be the start of something more.