“So Mom’s doing well, you think?”
Christine’s shoulders relaxed hearing her father’s positive response.
“Can I talk with her?”
“Just a minute. I’ll wake her.”
“No, Dad. I can talk another time.”
“How’s your grandmother?”
“She’s doing fine. I’m learning how to help her with the therapy. I think she’s improving every day...so I have a question.”
She heard silence on the line.
“This is theoretical, but let’s say I can’t get a leave or I can’t work from here, and my boss insists I return. If that happened, I was thinking that—”
“Christine, did you ask for an extension?”
“No, but I’m afraid that—”
“Wait. Don’t you have more leave time?”
“Yes, I have a couple more weeks’ vacation, but I’d like to have some time during the summer to—”
“You know there’s no one else to send.” His voice was weighted with frustration. “Chad’s—”
“I know Chad can’t leave his family and come here at the holidays. I understand, but—” Her father’s comment about her married brother bristled down her back. “I feel I’m being punished for being single. I have a life, too, and...”
This time her father didn’t stop her, and she didn’t know where to go.
“What about professional full-time care for Grandma? She must have insurance, and I thought—”
She listened to the same thing Will had told her.
“That doesn’t seem right,” she said.
“Do you want us to put your grandmother in a home?”
“No.” Her hand had tensed on her cell phone, and she longed to lay it down, to disconnect, to cancel the call if she could. The conversation had gone as badly as she imagined it would. She asked herself why she’d bothered.
“I’ll call my boss next Monday, and see what I can do.”
The conversation bogged down with her mother’s prognosis—two months or more before she would be able to travel. When Christine hung up from her father, tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t stay that long, and she saw no other solution.
Rarely had Christine prayed in recent years. Today she bowed her head and talked with God. The Lord had ways of solving problems that a human couldn’t even imagine. She had to depend on God’s mercy.
Feeling calmer, Christine headed downstairs, putting on her I’m-just-fine expression. At the bottom of the steps, she heard her grandmother’s voice talking to her.
“I didn’t hear you, Grandma Summers. I was upstairs.” She stepped into the living room and stopped. Her grandmother was speaking on the telephone, her face lit with a smile.
“Who was that?” Christine asked when she’d hung up.
“One of the circle ladies from church. Some of them thought I looked good when they saw me on Sunday.”
“You did. I told you.”
“Tomorrow they’re coming to visit and bringing some casseroles for our dinners. I don’t know how many, but I thought you’d like to hear that.”
Christine didn’t know which she enjoyed hearing more, the news about the prepared dinners or the ladies’ visit.
“And you’ll have some free time to enjoy yourself for a change,” her grandmother added.
That thought had already crossed her mind. “That’s thoughtful, Grandma, but the best thing is to see the smile on your face.”
“I hadn’t realized how much I miss my church friends,” Ella said. “A few came to see me in the hospital, and I had many cards and some food gifts when your folks were here, but you know how it is. Time passes, and it’s easy to forget about those who are sick. I must keep that in mind when I’m doing well again.”
“I have no doubt you will,” Christine said, remembering the vow her grandmother had made when she was a girl. “Are you ready to tackle your therapy?”
The grin faded.
“The stronger you become the faster you’ll be up and active again.” Will’s words spilled from her as his face rose in her thoughts. He always said the right thing.
“I know,” Ella said, giving a toss of her head.
“Let’s get at it.”
Will glanced at his desk calendar to check the deadline date for a stained-glass window he was making for a customer. He’d selected clear glass of varying textures to complement the bevel cluster. The windows were big sellers.
As his eyes shifted over the November dates, he realized his error and flipped the page to December. Time was flying, and he’d promised to have a table at the Christmas Bazaar the coming weekend. He drew back, amazed at how forgetful he’d become. He’d mentioned the event to Christine only days earlier.
His mind wandered, knowing he needed to select his art pieces and box them to transport to the Community Hall. Too much to do, and too little time. He scanned the December dates again, noting he had plenty of time to complete the customer’s beveled window, but what else waited to be done?
As the calendar came into view again, his thoughts took a detour. He scanned the excellent still life photograph of the stone church on Grand Hill, the evergreen branches weighted with snow against the gray stone and the one bright spot—a cardinal sitting on the fir. He’d wanted to spend a day taking photos for the annual calendar contest that the island held each year. The judging would be at the Winter Festival in February, and if he wanted to enter, he needed to get the photographs taken. He rubbed his neck, wondering which way to turn. Christine had thrown his schedule out of whack.
He eyed his watch. Lunchtime. His chest tightened with awareness. Normally he’d stay at the studio and eat a cold sandwich or heat up a commercial microwave soup, but lately, he’d taken time to go back home to eat. He didn’t have to question his motives. Christine. She filled his mind.
Grabbing his jacket, he switched the light off with his other hand and headed outside. He locked the door, jumped on his sled and headed up Market Street. Home seemed to pull him like a magnet.
The day seemed perfect—a crisp breeze but an abundance of sunshine. The scenery flashed past, and as he neared his apartment, his pulse raced. He knew he was being foolish. He already suspected Christine was older and wiser than he. He certainly wasn’t the kind of man who would interest her, so why open himself for rejection?
The question led him into a new line of thought. He enjoyed her company. He hadn’t met any younger woman on the island that captured his interest as Christine had. Maybe it was her spunk or her business prowess. He respected that. More likely he was drawn to the Christine she let him see when she let down her guard. She could make him laugh, and he loved that. Why not enjoy her company while she was here and let it go at that?
He let the answer slip away, aware of the flashing warning sign he didn’t want to face. He drove up Grandma Ella’s driveway and entered through the back door. A tangy scent greeted him along with a smile from Christine.
“What’s cookin’?” He slipped off his shoes in the back hallway and hung his jacket on a chair near the door.
“Sloppy Joes. I haven’t eaten one for years.”
He stood close to her, enjoying the rich aroma of the meat-and-tomato blend, along with her nearness. “Can I help?”
“You can open the buns.”
He spotted the package on the counter and opened the cellophane. Before he removed them from the wrapper, he moved to the sink to wash his hands.
“And you can get the chips. They’re on the fridge.”
Will set out three plates, placed an open bun on each, then tore open the bag of potato chips. “I’m glad I came home.”
“So am I,” she said. “Grandma Summers has friends coming in tomorrow, so I’ll have a couple of free hours. I need to do some Christmas shopping. Any ideas?”
His mind surged to the calendar he’d perused earlier. “The Christmas Bazaar is Saturday at the Community Center. You can pick up some handmade items and even have an ice-cream sundae while you’re there.”
“A bazaar? I’m not sure that’s the best place to buy quality gifts.” She reached for a plate.
He moved closer and held the dish while she piled the meat mixture onto the bun. “Sure it is. Wait until you see the great things they have. I have a booth there.”
“Your stained glass?” She stood transfixed with the spoonful of meat hovering over the plate.
“Smaller items. I will probably bring a few windows, sun catchers, Christmas ornaments, some jewelry.”
“Jewelry?”
“It’s made with fused glass. You’ll be surprised.” He turned and placed the dish on the table. “Lots of things. We have a talented island. Scarves, mittens, winter caps.” He fought the temptation to run his fingers through her waves. “You could use a cap.”
“If I go, I’ll have to find someone to stay with—”
“Bring her along. She needs to get out. You’re doing her laps, right?”
She drew back. “Yes, Mr. Therapy Police. I had her doing laps today.”
He grinned. “The more she realizes what she’s missing the harder she’ll work to get better.”
Christine nodded. “She mentioned today how much she misses everyone.”
“Going will make her happy then. I think the walker will work for Saturday. There are benches where she can sit and visit.”
“Good idea.” Christine turned off the burner and slid the pot off the heat. “Can you bring in Grandma while I get the drinks?”
“Sure thing,” he said, whistling a rambling tune as he headed into the living room.
Ella grinned at him when he came through the doorway She looked sunnier than he’d seen her in days, and it made him feel good. “Lunchtime.” He strode across the room and plopped her walker in front of her. “If you don’t get walking, you’ll miss the best Sloppy Joes ever made.”
“I smell them,” she said, struggling to rise with only one strong hand.
He let her struggle, knowing that the more she forced herself to do, the better off she’d be. When she’d managed to grab hold of the walker with both hands, she shuffled forward while he stayed close by her side. He could see the difference even in the past couple days that Christine had been making her do laps two or three times a day.
When they gathered around the table, Ella reached toward Christine to take her hand. Will noticed and grasped Ella’s left, but Ella didn’t begin the prayer. Her eyes were focused on the broken circle. Will eyed Christine, and she reached over and took his hand.
Grandma Ella began the prayers, thanking God for the day, the food, family and friends. Will tried to concentrate, but his mind skipped off on its own to the pleasant sensation of Christine’s delicate hand in his, her tapered fingers nestled against his palm.
“And Lord, we ask You for patience and perseverance. We don’t always understand Your ways, but we know You are directing our steps. Keep us mindful of Your mercy and grace. Keep us attentive to Your love and forgiveness. Amen.”
In the silence as each of them delved into the savory sandwich, Will’s mind marched back to Christine’s sweeter manner. He liked what he’d seen the past two days—the sled ride and today the camaraderie. Grandma Ella’s words about love and forgiveness sank into his thoughts. How long would it take before he and Christine might be real friends?
He looked up and saw Christine watching him. When they were alone, he planned to invite her on his photography venture. He wondered if she might inspire something unique and amazing in his photographs. She’d already inspired his imagination.
“Now don’t you worry,” Darlene Baxter said. “We’ll keep Ella busy for a couple of hours, and then I thought I’d stay on a while and help her with her therapy. She can tell me what to do.”
“That’s so nice of you,” Christine said.
“Ella says you’re devoting too much time to her, and she wants you to enjoy yourself.”
Christine winced with the comment. “You’re too kind, Mrs. Baxter. Thanks again.” Guilt pressed against her shoulders, knowing she’d only been devoted to her grandmother the past couple of days. Before she had only whined.
“I’m going to run a few errands while you’re here.”
“Have fun,” Ella said, as Christine strolled into the foyer. She paused to look out the door’s beveled window and saw Will pulling into the driveway.
Perfect timing, she thought, as she slipped on her jacket and boots.
Before she’d finished, he gave a tap and opened the door. “Looks like I’m right on time.”
“I have to find my scarf and gloves.” She tiptoed to peek onto the top shelf.
Will came forward and reached over her head. “Here you go,” he said, pulling them down from the top shelf.
She wrapped the plaid blue scarf around her neck—one that belonged to her grandmother—and Will took the end and gave an extra pull. Christine loosened the scarf, giving his gleeful expression a frown.
He opened the door, and she slipped on her gloves as she stepped outside. “Bye, Grandma,” she called.
Muffled voices sent back a greeting as Will closed the door. “It’s a great day,” he said. “This past week’s been wonderful. Would you like to have a diversion before you run your errands?”
He’d piqued her interest. “What kind of diversion?”
“A photo shoot.”
“Photo shoot?”
“For the island calendar. They hold a contest during the Winter Festival and select twelve photos taken of scenes on the island for next year’s calendar.”
“Do you have one in this year?”
His smile faded. “Never. So I thought maybe you’d inspire me. Bring me luck, maybe.”
“How long?”
He shrugged. “As long as it takes.”
“I have only an hour.”
She noticed he didn’t comment. He ushered her toward his sled, and she settled onto the seat, then scooted back. Once he was on, he maneuvered the sled from the driveway, and they were off.
They headed into town and stopped to take photos of a streetlamp adorned with a Christmas wreath, then off to Market Street where Will photographed the quiet setting looking toward the fort. The still beauty wrapped around Christine’s spirit.
Will looked content, setting his aperture for the best lighting and distance. He moved from one angle to another. He shifted beneath a tree and aimed the camera upward through the snow-burdened branches to the amazing blue sky.
“I bet that was beautiful,” Christine said, shifting her weight and bumping a limb.
Before Will could move, an avalanche of snow fell from one branch to the next and blanketed him in a snow pile. “Thanks,” he said, jumping away and grabbing a cloth to wipe the camera.
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head and chucked her cheek. “Forgiven. No damage as long as I get the snow off fast.”
She hovered over him, fearful that she’d destroyed his camera. He raised it without her expecting and snapped her photo.
“Why did you do that? I wasn’t smiling.”
“You looked lovely—concerned and guilty. That’s just the way I like you.”
She folded her arms. “No photos unless I have a warning.”
“Okay,” he said. “Be warned.” He moved the f-stop and snapped another photo.
“I thought the calendar was scenery.”
“It is, but I took these for me.”
“Why?”
“To remember you by.”
Her breath left her for a moment, realizing one day she would be gone. Her job and her life waited for her in Southfield, not the island.
He stood a minute, looking into the sky.
“Something wrong?”
“Thinking.”
She waited beside him and thought, too, about the fun she’d had since she stopped fighting Will and her grandmother’s care, but she knew that in a few more days, she had to face reality. If her boss didn’t approve a leave—and she feared he wouldn’t just for spite—she would be in a bind. Chet would love to get her out of the company. But she had the goods on him, and he knew it.
“What are you thinking?” she asked finally.
“I want something unique. Special. This time of year my photos will be for snow months—November through March. Everyone does the Christmas wreath, the fort, the snow piled in the fields. I want a different idea. Something other than Thanksgiving, Christmas or New Year’s Eve.”
“That leaves February,” Christine said.
“What happens in February other than a short month that takes forever?” he asked.
“Valentine’s Day.”
His head shot upward. “Hearts, flowers, cupids, love.”
“How about a photo on Cupid’s Pathway?” she asked.
His eyebrows raised. “Okay. You have something there, but what? Not just a street view. That’s not original. Something to do with Valentine’s Day.”
“A heart.”
“Whose?”
She chuckled. “Not mine. A heart...in the snow.”
“Yes!” He twirled around on one heel as if spinning would bring an idea. “Drawn by a finger.” He looked at her hands. “With red gloves. Instead of carving a heart with initials on a tree, a girl spells it in snow.”
“I like it,” she said. “We can find fresh snow near the house.”
“But color? Is the glove enough?” He snapped his finger. “Let me run into the shop a minute.” He beckoned her to follow.
They hurried up the road a couple of shops, and Will opened the door and ran into the back. Christine waited by the door gazing around the room. She could purchase some wonderful Christmas gifts from Will’s shop. She headed for a display, but he reappeared, looking empty-handed, and waved her toward the door.
“I thought you—”
He patted his pocket. “I have what I need. Wait and see.”
She followed him outside, and when he locked the door, they climbed on the sled and raced up Cadotte Avenue to Hoban Road into Harrisonville. When they turned right onto Cupid’s Pathway, Will slowed and scanned the roadside. “I need fresh snow.”
She pointed to a patch of open snow, unblemished and glistening in the winter sun.
“That’s great,” he said, pulling the sled to the road’s edge and turning it off.
He stepped out and grabbed his camera.
Christine sat on the sled, watching him move from right to left, close, then farther away using his zoom lens. He crouched down and focused on the snow, then rose again and tossed a stick onto one area and studied it through the lens.
“What are you doing?” Christine called out.
“Checking for light and shadow.” He beckoned to her.
She slipped off the sled and headed his way, tucking her hands into her pockets away from the nippy air.
“Look through the lens at the stick,” he said, handing her the camera.
She put her eye against the viewfinder while Will stood close beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder. She located the broken limb. Sunlight from the left caused a definite shadow on the snow. “The stick leaves a fine shadow.”
“It will broaden as the sun lowers in the sky, but it’s enough.” He studied her face as he took the camera from her.
“Interesting,” Will said, wondering if he meant the shadows or her.
He hung the camera on his neck, then moved to an unmarred snowbank. He crouched and took his finger and drew a large heart on the snow. The shadow highlighted it with a fine line of gray.
Christine admired the almost perfect heart. She waited to see what was next, curious about what he’d brought from the studio.
Will paused a moment, looking through the lens again, and then squatted and marked his initials—W. L.—into the snow. Below the letters he marked a plus sign. Finally, he rose.
“Your turn.” He glanced at her hands. “Where are your gloves?”
“In here,” she said, pulling her hands from her pockets.
“Good. Now crouch like I did and draw your initials, but don’t lift your finger when you get to the end of the letter P.”
Rattled, she turned to him. “You want me to use my initials?”
“Sure.” He gave her a wink. “Why not?”
She had no answer for that, but it didn’t seem appropriate for her to be making a heart with their initials. The whole idea unsettled her.
“Go ahead,” he said, standing back and focusing.
If she refused, she’d be making a big deal out of nothing, so she knelt and stretched her arm over the heart and scratched her initials beneath the plus sign. C. P. She heard the lens click, then click again.
“Hold it,” he said, shifting and snapping two more shots. “Okay. That’s it.”
She rose, her legs feeling tingly from lack of blood and from the cold.
“Want to see?” he asked.
“See? But you brought something with you, I thought.”
“Red glass globs. I thought I’d outline the heart, but I don’t need them. Look at it.” He beckoned her.
She hurried to his side.
“Here.” He handed her the digital camera, hit a button, and the photograph appeared. The effect startled her—the stark white snow, the shadow heart and initials, then her bright red finger. “It’s really great, Will. Beautiful in its simplicity.”
“And perfect for February. I’ll title it Love on Cupid’s Pathway.”
Love on Cupid’s Pathway. She looked back at the heart and their initials and felt a flush rise up her neck. “We’d better go, don’t you think?”
He grasped her hand and pulled her closer. “Are you upset?”
“No, I—I’m just looking at the time.” She glanced at her watch.
“Thanks for the inspiration,” he said.
She saw it coming and didn’t move. Will bent over and planted a kiss on her cold cheek. The warmth radiated through her, and she had to fight the desire to turn her cheek and kiss his mouth.