brightly-wrapped expensive gifts under the massive tree. Clark would send a driver for her parents at the airport and then he’d escort them through their spectacular home, showing off in subtle ways. Clark and his flashy over- the-top gifts, professionally wrapped, and generous in size and cost. She and Clark toasting the season with their friends and family, their laughter and joy filling the rooms and bouncing off the tall ceilings. Of all the memories, none meant more to her than the simple Christmas she was sharing with Lance. No gift was more precious than the bracelet that now jingled softly against her wrist as she worked. Her priorities had changed, and she found herself humming as she stirred the batter.
Lance, too, thought of Christmases past. Ellen singing carols in a crazy off-key voice to be funny, and lighting what seemed like hundreds of candles. He would find them everywhere during the season and told her jokingly, on more than one occasion, that she was going to burn down their house someday. They always had a living tree, and hung it with candy canes and red bows. And they always adopted a family from the angel tree in the mall, which was a source of great delight. Ellen loved shopping for total strangers, trying to select gifts that would be most needed and appreciated. He had enjoyed it, too, but nothing like she had. She had a caring heart and a kind spirit. For once, Lance found he could think of Ellen and not feel that old familiar pain. He could think of her now with fond remembrance. The old grief had mellowed, lost its bite.
Before long, tantalizing aromas filled the cabin. Lance opened the shutters and a world of white lay in pristine beauty outside the windows. Brook stared at the view, hypnotized. It was a picture that belonged on a Christmas card, a picture that would stay in her memory long after this day had passed.
A delicious meal followed. The duck was succulent and flavorful and the mashed potatoes creamy and satisfying. Lance served the green beans with crisp shards of bacon and sauteed onions. Homemade rolls came out perfect, golden and fluffy. And Brook’s cake was mouthwatering. Patting their stuffed bellies, Lance and Brook leaned back in their chairs and sipped mugs of after-dinner coffee laced with brandy, a treat he had been saving for just such a special occasion, although he had never pictured anything quite like this when he had stashed the bottle. His lips curved into a smile of satisfaction.
After cleaning up the table, Lance stoked the fire and they retired to the bedroom for a nap, which was preceded by a long leisurely session of tender lovemaking.
The rest of the afternoon and evening they spent relaxing, chatting, and reading by the fireside.
Chapter 47
Not every day was perfect. There were times when Brook couldn’t handle even the thought of physical intimacy, much less the act. At those times, Lance would hold her in a chaste embrace, or he’d leave her enough space to wrestle her demons before finding her way back to him. As with anyone and any life, there were joys and there were sorrows. There were ups and downs, but far more of the former than the latter.
One day, Brook seemed particularly agitated. Lance sat patiently with her, waiting. He knew she was building up to something. At last, she spoke.
“If not for you, I’d be dead,” Brook stated, holding his gaze.
“Not necessarily,” he answered slowly, wondering where this would lead. “It would depend on which direction you traveled. Had you gone one way, you might have eventually found my cabin. Had you gone the opposite direction, you could have ended up at the main house of the man who owns this land. But, it’s a really long, rugged hike. Or you might have just wandered in circles in the forest. Perhaps you would have come across cold-weather hikers or climbers had you gone far enough. It’s hard to say.”
“No.” She took his hand. “I was at the end of my strength. I’d have died if I hadn’t found you. You’ll never convince me otherwise.”
“Brooklyn, I don’t want to convince you otherwise. I don’t know why it happened or how. I only know I’m glad it did. I’m glad I was there in the right spot at the right time. I just wish you hadn’t suffered so much.”
“I’m still trying to sort this all out in my mind.” She struggled for words. “I hate what happened to me,
“What’s that, honey?” Lance stroked her hand.
“If it hadn’t happened, I would never have met you.” Tears spilled from her eyes and she swatted at them as if annoyed. “How can I balance the two? The worst thing that ever happened in my life made possible the best thing. Knowing you. And now I love you, and I’m not supposed to. I’m not supposed to feel this way. But I do. I can’t help it.”
“Sometimes there are things in life that just can’t be reconciled. They just are what they are. As far as loving me, I can’t help you with that, Brooklyn.” His eyes were intense. “I can’t be objective because I love you, too. And I want you. I want you like I’ve never wanted anything else. Right or wrong. I can’t help it either.”
“What are we going to do?” Her anguish was plain in her voice, her face inches from his. He took her into his arms and they clung to each other.
“I don’t know, Brooklyn,” he murmured. “I guess we’ll just take it a day at a time for now.”
Her mouth found his and their passion blazed again. Filled with emotion, they sank into the swirling heat and tenderness once more.
Chapter 48
After several false starts, winter’s reign ended, sending rivulets of water flowing down the mountain and filling the streams and rivers. Shoots of green peeked from behind rocks, and leaves unfurled on trees. The grass that dared to extend above the patches of remaining snow became more verdant daily. Life was refreshing itself after a wintry sleep.
Brook stood in front of the cabin, breathing deeply the warming air, relishing the end of the long, cold days. “I have to go home soon,” she spoke quietly.
Lance, standing behind her with his arms draped loosely around her waist, kissed the top of her head gently and whispered, “I know.”
“When do you think we can get off the mountain?”
“Soon. This week!” If the truth were to be told, they could have gotten off the mountain several times in the past two weeks. They had both delayed bringing up the subject.
Brook heard the sorrow in Lance’s voice. She turned, wrapped her arms around his waist, and laid her face against his chest, listening to his heart beat. “You know how much I care for you, don’t you?” She looked up into his face.
A tear glinted in the corner of one eye as he said, “Yes, I know. But you have your husband, and a life, to return to. I’ll be okay here after you go. I was fine before, wasn’t I?”
“Okay,” she said softly. “Well, let’s make the best of the last of our time together.” She took Lance by the hand and they returned to the cabin where they made soft, gentle love. “I love you,” Brook barely whispered into Lance’s shoulder.
“I love you, too, my sweet Brooklyn.”
Chapter 49
Over the next week, Brook watched the snow disappear around the cabin. She almost wished another storm would blow in and cover the mountain in a heavy cocoon of white, wrapping them in its silence, prolonging her departure. But the weather remained clear.
“You look worried,” Lance said one evening.
“Hmmm?” Brook pulled herself from her thoughts. “Oh, yes, I am. I’ve been thinking about going to the
