Chapter Seventeen

Seven Weeks Later

“The ice bridge is ready,” Will called as he came into the house, anxious to see Christine.

She pivoted toward him from the table. “What’s that mean?”

“We can ride to St. Ignace. Solid ice from here to there.”

She scooted back the chair. “You mean we can actually take the sleds over.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

He walked up behind her and put his cold hands on her warm neck.

She scrunched her neck into her shoulders. “That’s not fair.”

“Maybe not, but this is.” He kissed her neck and then swept back her hair to kiss her cheek, enjoying the sweetness of her fragrance.

“What this?” he asked, when he looked at the computer.

“It’s the Web site.”

“Really?” He pulled up a chair beside her.

“This is the home page. It’s a picture of the shop. Later I’ll take one without the snow. And here’s the picture I took inside.”

“Nice,” he said, amazed to see the detail of her photograph. “I can see the window I just hung.”

She moved the cursor. “Here’s the links. This one says Shop Online. The shopper will click here and I’ll have categories of your products. And this will be good for people coming to the island or people who are browsing the Internet.”

He hated to quell her excitement. “That’s great, Christine, but—”

“I know,” she said, hitting the close button and turning off the computer. “You want to go out on the ice bridge.”

The fact that she’d sensed what he wanted gave him a good feeling. “Yes, but before we leave, I have a surprise for you.” He stepped back and pulled a sheet of something from beneath his jacket.

She eyed it a moment until he handed it to her. Her heart lurched, seeing the amazing photograph of her red glove putting her last initial in the pristine snow. W. L. + C. P. Beneath the photo was Will’s name and the title “Love on Cupid’s Pathway.” Love had come to her in this lovely place. “Your photo made it this time?”

“It did. And all because of those pretty red gloves.”

Her eyes blurred with happiness as she wrapped her arms around Will’s neck. “It was your sensitive photography.”

He kissed the end of her nose. “It was that and love on Cupid’s Pathway.”

She grinned at his silliness and studied the photo again, so proud that he’d finally had a winning entry in the calendar contest.

“Okay. Enough of this flattery. Let’s take a ride. I want to get there before it gets dark.” He gave her another hug. “Get ready, and I’ll meet you outside.”

“Give me a minute. I want to see if someone will come and stay with Grandma.”

“We’ll only be gone an hour or so. She can probably stay alone. Take the cell phone.”

“I’ll check with her,” she said. She handed him the photograph, and he headed for the door to his apartment.

Inside his rooms, he slipped on his bib, then put on his jacket and zipped it. He slid the smock over his head and grabbed his helmet.

Christine had never experienced the ice bridge and had no idea what a relief this was to those who resided on the island. The ice had frozen enough to hold the sleds and the residents were free to zip over to St. Ignace for shopping or appointments, even go to a movie without paying the ferry or plane fare.

He opened the door to the house. “Ready?”

Footsteps banged down the stairs, and Christine appeared, bundled in her bib and jacket, her feet bound in boots. “I feel like a jumbo baby-blue pillow,” she said, carrying her mittens and earmuffs.

“But a beautiful jumbo pillow,” he said, giving her a gentle kiss.

“Grandma said she’d be fine, but I’ll call her in a half hour or so just to make sure.”

“She’ll be great,” he said, touched by Christine’s concern.

Outside, Christine climbed onto her new, larger sled, but she looked confident. She’d caught on to sledding faster than the speed of Shepler’s hydro-planes that brought visitors to the island.

He settled onto his sled, wishing Christine was tucked behind him, but he couldn’t deny her the fun of driving her new sled. “Let’s go,” he said, motioning her forward.

The sleds pulled out to the driveway, but Christine halted. “Does the bridge begin downtown?”

“No, the British Landing. That’s where the bridge has been marked out.”

They sped onto the road, the wind in their faces, and headed up Hoban to Annex Road, then British Landing Road. He glanced behind him to see Christine smiling beneath her helmet. She waved, and he waved back.

When they arrived, he waited for her to catch up. “See the trees.” He pointed to the line of discarded Christmas trees that residents used to mark the bridge.

“Somewhere along here are our trees,” she said.

“It keeps us on the sure path for the sleds and pedestrians.”

“Pedestrians?”

“Some people have the courage to walk the four miles across the ice.” He leaned over and grasped her hand to kiss her glove.

“You’re silly.”

“Only when I’m with you.

“Look,” she said, pointing across the frozen water. “The sun is setting.”

He looked at the horizon, seeing the muted colors—corals, purples and golds reflected in the snow and ice. “It’s like a rainbow almost.”

“A promise.” She squeezed his hand.

“We’d better go.”

“Into the sunset,” she called as he pulled ahead of her onto the ice.

Christine followed, gliding up alongside with a wide smile. The Christmas trees lying along the pathway flashed by, and once he was halfway across, he slowed.

“Let’s stop and get out here,” he said. He parked to the side in case another sled came along.

He climbed out, and Christine pulled behind him. He grasped her hand to help her off the sled onto the ice.

“Here we are standing on the Straits of Mackinac,” he said, amazed at the thrill he had each time he experienced it.

Christine did a full turn and swung back with her face beaming. “It’s awesome.”

He took her hand and pulled off her glove to feel her warm flesh in his. “Not as awesome as you are.”

“I love this place, Will—the island and the people.”

Will broke into laughter. “If I remember correctly, you offered to cook me a seven-course dinner or whatever I choose if I ever heard you say that you loved it here.”

“I did?”

He brushed her cheek. “I love food, as you know, but I have something else I love much better.”

Her eyes narrowed, then she gave him a crooked grin. “You look guilty…like you have something up your sleeve.”

“Nothing up my sleeve.” He paused, his heart thundering beneath his down-filled jacket. “But I do have something in my pocket.”

She frowned and followed his hand as he dug inside and pulled out the small velvet box.

Her eyes widened, and he handed it to her. She stood a moment, staring at the lid as if she were unable to move.

“Will.” She looked at him, then the box.

“Open it,” he said.

Christine inched the lid upward and peeked inside. The cathedral setting with its row of paved cut diamonds on each side of a princess-cut stone glistened in the setting sunlight. “It’s beautiful. Gorgeous.”

“You’re far more beautiful.”

He removed the ring from the box and knelt down on the frigid ice. “Christine, maybe you think I should wait, but I love you now, and I know our love will grow and grow with God’s blessing. Will you be my wife?”

Her cheeks trembled as she looked down at him. Tears welled in her eyes, and she nodded. “Yes. Yes. I’ll love you forever.”

He rose, slipped the ring on her finger and drew her into his arms. Their lips met, and warmth spread through him into his heart.

Christine yielded to his kiss, her arms wrapping around his neck, her body straining upward on tiptoes to offer her love. She’d told him once he had Christmas in his heart, and today Christine filled it to the brim.

She had her own mind and plans, but God had given her path a turn and led her straight into his arms.