Chapter Ten – Sorcha #2
The creek wasn’t hard to find. A hand-painted sign pointed the way to “Winter Skating,” and several cars were already parked along the snow-banked road. Sorcha pulled in behind a minivan festooned with Christmas-themed bumper stickers and got out.
“Beautiful,” she breathed as she took in the scene before her. It could very well make it to the top of her list.
She could not wait to get on the ice and headed for the wooden hut where the guy hiring the skates greeted her with a ready smile. “First time at Bear Creek?” he asked as he helped her find the right size.
“Yes,” Sorcha admitted, handing over the rental fee. “I’m writing an article about winter attractions in the area.”
“Well, you picked a perfect day for skating,” he said, gesturing toward the creek where a dozen or so people glided across the smooth ice.
“The surface is prime right now. We cleared it just this morning after the light snow. Stay within the markers, though. Beyond that, we don’t maintain it, and the ice can be uneven. ”
Sorcha thanked him and carried her skates to a bench near the edge of the creek.
The scene before her was postcard-perfect with children racing each other across the ice, couples holding hands as they made slow circuits, and pine trees heavy with snow creating a natural border.
The winter sun caught on the ice, turning it to diamond dust wherever skate blades had carved fresh paths.
She laced up the skates with practiced fingers, tightening them just enough for support without cutting off circulation. The familiar ritual brought back memories of childhood winters, of her father teaching her to skate on the pond behind their house. Those had been good times.
When her skates were secure, Sorcha stood carefully, testing her balance on the packed snow. Then she stepped onto the ice.
The first glide was always magical, that sensation of weightlessness, of flying just inches above the surface. Sorcha pushed off with her right foot, then her left, quickly finding her rhythm. She circled the maintained area once, getting a feel for the ice, then picked up speed.
The cold air kissed her cheeks as she moved, making figure eights and long, sweeping curves. Her body remembered the motions from long ago, muscles responding without conscious thought. She spun slowly, arms outstretched, reveling in the pure joy of movement.
This was freedom; this was what she loved about winter. For a few minutes, she lost herself in the sensation, forgetting everything else.
But even as she skated, feeling the freedom and joy of it, Sorcha realized that something was missing. Or rather, someone. The experience wasn’t complete without Christopher beside her, his comforting presence, his warm smile, his quiet observations that somehow always touched a part of her.
She slowed her pace, suddenly aware of all the pairs on the ice—friends, couples, parents with children. Everyone seemed to have someone to share this with…except her.
An older couple skated past, their mittened hands clasped together, their movements perfectly synchronized after what must have been decades of practice. The woman caught Sorcha’s eye and smiled, a knowing look that seemed to say, “This is what matters.”
Sorcha smiled back automatically, but a hollow feeling spread through her chest. She’d spent so many years convincing herself that independence was preferable to connection, that the freedom to leave was worth more than the comfort of staying.
But watching that couple, seeing their easy intimacy, their shared joy, she wondered if she’d been running from the wrong things all along.
Her mind drifted back to Christopher, to his cabin, to the way he’d moved around his kitchen with such confidence, to how natural it had felt to wash dishes beside him. To the moment when they’d almost kissed.
What if she’d leaned in? What if she’d allowed herself that one moment of connection? Where would they be now?
Probably right here, she thought, but together. Holding hands like that older couple, maybe falling down together and laughing, or him steadying her with those strong arms.
Sorcha made another circuit of the ice, her movements more mechanical now as her mind continued to race. Her entire adult life had been built around the premise that leaving was better than staying, that new experiences were more valuable than deepening existing ones.
But what if that wasn’t true? What if the real adventure was allowing yourself to put down roots, to build something lasting with someone who saw you…really saw you?
Christopher saw her. Not just the professional facade she presented to the world, but the woman beneath. The one who still took a childlike pleasure in sledding down a hill, who marveled at feeding gentle reindeer, who longed for connection even as she ran from it.
A child whizzed past, breaking her reverie. Sorcha realized she’d slowed almost to a stop, lost in her thoughts. She pushed off again, trying to recapture that earlier sense of freedom, but it remained elusive.
The truth was, she felt incomplete. As if she’d left an essential part of herself back at Bear Creek Cabins, with a quiet man whose steady gaze had somehow seen straight through to her soul.