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Later that afternoon, we went for a walk on the trails behind the bed-and-breakfast. The woods were wrapped in fog, wisps of white that curled and twined through the red-brown trunks of century-old pines. Compared to the terrible temperatures of the past few weeks, the forty-degree weather felt pleasant and fresh, like spring in December. I’d pulled on a knit hat and hung a scarf around my neck, but loosely, and I didn’t have to hide my face from the wind.
Instead, I looked around with pleasure. Despite the faded quality that the mist wrought, of ghosted-out trees and short tunnels of vision, the nature close to us looked bright in comparison. Green moss on trees shone like summer ponds, and the few dead leaves that clung to spindly branches looked more red than brown.
And the white of the day-old snow was so bright and endless, like a paper without depth or end, interrupted only by the sharp green of evergreen shrubs.
My hand was warm in Abraham’s, and I kept sneaking looks at him.
He smiled at me. “What?”
“Thank you for bringing me here.”
We slowed to a stop behind a majestic weeping willow, whose branches swept the snow gracefully. Abe slid his hand around my cheek, his palm heated against my chilled flesh.
He kissed me.
And with the mist billowing around us,
I started to believe in magic again.
* * *
In the morning, we rolled out of bed past ten and joined the other desultory guests in the breakfast area, a large room with larger windows. We ate fresh waffles and strawberry compote and maple syrup and mimosas. The fire crackled before us, all charred logs that somehow resisted crumbling to pieces. Orange-white flames licked the air, while between the logs, coals glowed deep umber. Christmas carols played softly, and poinsettias sat on either side of the mantel.
I snuggled into Abe’s side, and the woman sitting at the nearest table smiled at us. “Newlyweds?”
Abe grinned back at her. “Yes, ma’am.”
I kissed his cheek and felt undeservedly proud.
Later, I told Abe that the woman had had to guess that we were newlyweds. The question could conveniently be asked with one word, as opposed to “Are you dating?” which also hardly had any oomph. Besides, asking if people were newlyweds implied love and sweetness and so was almost universally flattering, whether to a new couple on vacation or a married one.
But it still made me happy.
“What do you want to do this afternoon?” I asked as we lay in bed, naked and sated. “I think there’s a little theater nearby that might be fun.”
“Sounds fun,” Abe agreed. “But I actually had something else planned. A surprise.”
I rolled over to see him better. “A good surprise?”
He regarded me for so long, and with such an odd spark, that I started to feel uneasy. Then he leaned forward to kiss me. “An interesting surprise.”
I smoothed my hand over the hard contours of his back. “Do we have a few minutes before this surprise?”
His eyes glinted wickedly. “Oh, more than a few, I’m sure.”
* * *
When we stepped out of the car two hours later, we were greeted by a field of bright panels of color.
When I saw them rising high before me, my stomach took off in the same direction, but with greater velocity and rougher turbulence. “That’s a balloon.”
Abe cut the engine and smiled at me with a quiet watchfulness. “Yes.”
“A giant balloon.”
“Yes.”
I looked back through the windshield at the globes of color against the endless rolling white. Today, bright blue domed the world, streaked with faraway clouds empty of color. “I hope you brought me here to watch the incredibly dramatic liftoff from our safe location here on the ground.”
