Chapter 9 Presley #2
In one hour’s time, the procession for the Winter Games would begin.
I knew from watching it once before, many years ago, it was much shorter than the buildup to the Olympics, but also fun, with intricate takes on the sports included.
There would be shots from the ice skaters, the ski racers, and the ski jumpers.
Heck, Olympian Theo McCain was hosting the event—it was a pretty big deal.
No one would blame me if I wanted to stick around and watch.
I could have always taken a page out of Ford’s book and worn a disguise.
Ha! The idea sounded so silly and yet. .
. I was racking my brain to figure out what that could be.
Then it hit me: Ford didn’t know I was here.
The roads reopened—I told him I was leaving if they were.
Surely, he had an early start this morning and was away from his chalet.
I could have slipped into mine, cranked on the heat, and worn the other ski jacket that I brought in case of emergencies.
The emergency related to wearing white ski clothes of any kind almost always involved spilling hot chocolate on your coat or pants.
It was always best to wear dark pants due to the risk of sitting in something, since the material of ski pants attracts stains.
You sit in something once—doesn’t matter if it's food, drink or grease from a chair lift dripping from the metal ropes—ski clothes cling to it, absorbing the discoloring in every level of its fibers.
That’s why I always brought a second coat.
Though I hadn’t been skiing in years, I found this bright cherry red jacket that was more of a puffer style than my last one.
I also had different goggles, which I would wear today anyway because the pair I had been wearing were for low light.
These others were more of a UV blocking for brighter light.
It was perfect; Ford would notice me if I was wearing my white jacket and goggles that he had seen before but now, I was in a red coat and black goggles.
It didn’t occur to me immediately that it might have been strange to wear ski goggles to a spectator’s event, but I didn’t care. My plan was still to ski beforehand, and that’s what I was going to do.
The Snowy Owl Inn checked me out in a dash, as they were pleased to get the room turned over for another unfortunate soul to experience, now that the highways had opened back up.
They thanked me for staying with them and gave me a voucher for a free coffee at the shop next door, which I was grateful for since there was no coffee maker in the room.
“Oh, miss?” the front desk attendant called out to me while I was leaving, Priscilla in my arms and roller bag in the other hand. I turned back. “There’s a message here for you.”
Curiosity got the better of me as I wheeled my bag back to the front desk and took the note. The only problem was it wasn’t legible.
“I’m sorry, someone spilled their coffee on it.” The woman motioned to the man standing next to her as she rolled her eyes. The only word I could make out was “Ford.” My heart sank; could he have been trying to reach me to apologize? Was there any coming back from this?
I hoofed it the few blocks to where I had parked last night; the streets were much busier this morning with people trying to pile in and out—both those who had been stranded and wanted out and those dying to get into Sage Mountain.
Once I loaded the Yukon and Priscilla was securely in her car seat, I made the short few minute drive to the row of chalets.
As soon as the chalets were in view, I saw Ford’s truck at the horse stables across the way.
My stomach filled with nerves—both feelings of excitement and dread, simultaneously.
He knew my vehicle. He would see it parked outside of the chalet.
I had to think fast: Did it really matter if I was still here? Did it change anything?
After several moments of panicked reflection, I realized that it didn’t matter. I didn’t want to play games. He knew how I felt, and I knew how he felt. If my being here irritated him so much that he had a problem with it, that was on him.
So, I pulled into the chalet without fear.
I didn’t make a big deal about unloading—I just grabbed my roller bag, Priscilla out of her car seat, and calmly walked to the front door.
Punching in the key codes, I held my breath; but the door chimed and most importantly, unlocked. Thank you, Jesus, for electricity.
Walking in, the chalet had been working hard to warm up since the power was restored. It wasn’t too cold, and the heat was on full blast. I stood over the vents and felt the warmth cut through my cold hands.
Priscilla acted as though she’d returned home after being stranded on the streets.
I’d never seen her so happy; she was a spoiled dog who loved luxury stays.
“What am I going to do with you, Priscilla?” I asked her.
She tilted her head at me and pounced. I remembered her chew toy she’d been working on carving since we got here and retrieved it out of my purse.
One last trip outside for her and I was ready to go. I looked out the window and saw that Ford’s truck was gone from the horse stables. Whew. After last night's confrontation, I wasn’t ready for another one, no matter how much I yearned to see him. And that jawline of his.
Wearing her lime green sweater, Priscilla and I made our way outside, with me coaching her to be quick about it.
The weather was still warming up, so I didn’t feel quite as bad about her being coatless and shoeless, but I still didn’t want her getting frozen paws.
The second we stepped outside, Ford was standing on my porch to greet me, holding Priscilla’s shoes and jacket.
“Presley,” he spoke, breathless. His truck was behind him on the road and attached to it was a horse trailer. A man was in his passenger seat; I surmised it was likely his rider.
“Hi, Ford.” My voice shook as Priscilla went to him and begged him to pick her up. He hesitated for a moment, handed me her coat and shoes, and petted her on the head.
“Go potty, Priscilla,” I commanded, to which she looked like she might throw a fit, but ultimately, it was freezing out, and she obeyed, walking to a clear spot in the yard.
“I just wanted to say, umm,” Ford choked on his words. It was clear he wanted to make an apology of some sort, to which I accepted.
“Look, Ford—it’s okay. I’ve been through this many times before.
I’m good. I accept it, and you don’t need to apologize.
” I put my hands up, pleading. “Go, do your skijoring. I’m praying for a win; I really am.
” I meant what I said. I had a feeling this man would be in my prayers for a long, long time.
“Thank you. But, last night after you left, I didn’t have a way of contacting you and the Snowy Owl Inn didn’t have a way to dispatch me to your room, so I left you a message, and I just wanted to ask if you would stay one more night, but seeing you here makes me think that that prayer has been answered.
. .” He trailed off. So much to unpack here—for the first time in a long time, I was speechless.
“There’s a little starlight parade tonight after the Winter Games.
Will you join me?” I wasn’t prepared for any of this—here I was ten minutes ago trying to figure out a disguise so I could watch him race.
“Sure,” I whispered. Normally I’d say something snarky like, “despite my better judgement.” But truthfully, this had never happened before.
No man had ever stood before me after getting to know me and truly wanted to see me again.
That being said, the bar wasn’t low—it was higher.
I wanted a man just like the one that Ford was portraying at this very second, but not the one he was last night, in secret.
“Thank you. I’ll meet you here—pick you up at say, six o’clock? I gotta go. We’re required to show up in ten minutes or risk being disqualified.” He smiled.
“What are you doing here? Don’t be late! Go!” I laughed and watched as he navigated through the icy street to get to the driver's side of his truck and then drove off. Priscilla ran back inside.
“What in the world was that about, Priscilla?” I asked her, with my hand on my hip. Lord, have I looked at this situation wrong?
After a few moments in silent prayer, I felt a wave of energy wash over me. My sore legs aside, I was here to ski, and this was my last day to do so. Priscilla was already snoozing in her warm bed again, right where she was when we first arrived all those days ago. It was time to hit the slopes.
Skiing by myself wasn’t as much of a joy as it had been with Ford.
I was expecting some idle chat in the gondola like always, but today, everyone in there was foreign and speaking German.
Then, at the top of the mountain, the mountain hosts were slammed with a line of people.
If I were to get a consultation on my best runs today, I’d spend half the morning waiting.
So, instead, I tried to remember the runs that Ford took me on instead.
All was going well until a group of snowboarders came up behind me.
The snow scraping noises they made as they carved off the inches of fresh powder made me panic.
Were they in control? I couldn’t exactly turn around, so instead, I made an abrupt left and went into the trees.
The trail in here was narrow and steeper than I thought; I was working very hard to keep my turns tight and skis tighter as I navigated through the thick wooded trail.
Finally, emerging on the other side, I came up to the start of a double Black Diamond.