Chapter Four – Sorcha #2
“See you later!” Teddy called as he and Maisie headed off with their father toward a small stand selling hot drinks at the edge of the field.
Sorcha looked down at the plastic sled in her hands, then up at Christopher. “I haven’t done this in at least twenty-five years.”
“It’s like riding a bike,” he assured her. “Come on.”
They trudged up the hill together, the sleds dragging behind them.
The climb was more strenuous than Sorcha had expected, and she was breathing hard by the time they reached the top.
But the view—the town spread out below them, mountains rising in the distance, the winter sun casting everything in crystal clarity—made it worth the effort.
“Ready?” Christopher asked, positioning his sled at the crest.
“As I’ll ever be,” Sorcha replied, settling onto her own sled with far less grace than she would have liked.
“On three,” Christopher said. “One…two…three!”
They pushed off together, and Sorcha’s world narrowed to the rush of cold air against her face, the spray of snow, and the exhilarating sensation of speed. She screamed, part in terror, part in delight, as the sled picked up momentum, racing down the hill faster than she’d expected.
For those brief seconds, Sorcha wasn’t a forty-something journalist with deadlines and responsibilities. She was just a woman flying down a snowy hill, alive with the simple joy of the moment. She felt young again, free in a way she hadn’t in years.
When her sled finally slowed to a stop at the bottom, she lay back in the snow, laughing up at the blue sky. Christopher skidded to a halt beside her, his own laughter joining hers.
“Again?” he asked, extending a hand to help her up.
“Absolutely,” she replied without hesitation.
They spent the next half hour racing down the hill, each run more exhilarating than the last. Sorcha thought of her mother, who had spent so many years regretting the choices that had kept her in their small town.
How different might her mother’s life have been if she’d found joy in the simple pleasures around her, instead of constantly yearning for what might have been?
Breathless and rosy-cheeked, they finally made their way back to where Daniel stood with his children, who had returned from their hot chocolate break.
“Thank you so much,” Sorcha said as she handed the sled back to Teddy. “That was incredible.”
“You’re welcome,” Teddy replied with a gap-toothed grin. “Are you really writing an article for a magazine about Bear Creek?”
“Yes, I am.” She glanced up at Daniel. “Would it be okay if I took a picture of you guys with your sleds?” Sorcha asked. “For my article?”
“Sure,” Daniel agreed. “If it’s okay with you both.”
“Yes!” Teddy’s eyes widened with excitement. “I’m going to be famous!”
Maisie rolled her eyes at her brother’s enthusiasm but smiled and nodded her agreement. Sorcha positioned them with their sleds, the hill forming a perfect backdrop, and took several shots with her phone.
“These are great,” she said, showing them the results. “Thank you both.”
“I hope we see you again,” Sorcha added, surprised by how much she meant it.
“You will,” Teddy said with absolute certainty before he and Maisie headed back toward the slopes, eager to resume their sledding.
Daniel shook her hand again, then turned to Christopher and pulled him into a quick hug. Sorcha couldn’t hear what he whispered in Christopher’s ear, but she saw Christopher’s expression change, and something vulnerable and hopeful flickered across his face before he pulled away.
The two men held eye contact for a long moment, some unspoken understanding passing between them. Then Daniel nodded once, clapped Christopher on the shoulder, and headed after his children.
“Your friends are wonderful,” Sorcha said as they walked back to the truck. Her legs ached pleasantly from the climb up the hill, and her face tingled from the cold.
“They’re like family,” Christopher replied, his voice soft with affection. “This whole town is, in a way.”
Sorcha nodded, understanding dawning. This was what had kept Christopher in Bear Creek all these years—not just the beauty of the place, but the connections he’d formed, the sense of belonging. Had her mom never found those kinds of connections?
Sorcha had never given it much thought before. Was it simply that her mom had thought she’d missed out on her career? Or had she not liked the way everyone seemed to know everyone else? They had never had a deep discussion about it. Maybe they should.
As they reached the truck, Sorcha paused with her hand on the door handle. “Thank you for this,” she said. “For making me take a break from my schedule.”
Christopher’s smile warmed her more effectively than any hot chocolate could have. “Sometimes the best stories come from the unexpected moments,” he said. “The ones you don’t plan for.”
Sorcha climbed into the truck, her mind already composing paragraphs about children sledding on a perfect winter day, about the generosity of strangers who became friends, about finding joy in the moment instead of always looking ahead to the next destination.
Maybe there was room in her article, and in her life, for both the ambitious career woman she’d become and the small-town girl who still remembered how to play in the snow. Maybe the key was in finding balance, not in choosing between two worlds.
As Christopher started the engine, Sorcha found herself wondering what Daniel had whispered to him, and why it had seemed to mean so much. But that wasn’t her story to know…at least, not yet.