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She referred to it as a voice, a song, a reason. Whatever it is, it instills her with a sense of urgency. I too, want to know what she knows. I too, need her to remember. And it needs to happen fast.
And when she does, what then?
I can’t let myself think about that. About what comes next. It might all be ruined with nothing to show for it.
Ava drops her head back and lifts her face to the sky, snow dusting her features. A smile tugs at my mouth, loving her reaction to such a simple pleasure. Soon after, she brushes them away with her gloved hand.
Without her framing the shot I’m not sure that I’d have noticed how cosmically right the scene before me is. The colours speak to me, depicting a world fragmented by white, and yet it’s nature at its most evocatively beautiful.
She is the epitome of what I seek, and I’ve been searching for a long time.
I toggle the camera app from video to photo, taking her picture before blending into the silent night.
CHAPTERELEVEN
AVA
Across the still waters ofthe lake, that lone voice calls to me.
La ha ah,
La ha ah ah.
At one time the voice was disconcerting and flat-out terrifying.Was I hearing things? Going mad?But now, the crystalline voice is more comforting, like a well-liked companion, stealing across the lake towards my position at its snowy shore. The notes swell as they surround me, making me shiver with their elegance, cocooning me in these pillowy surroundings to bring me peace and solace as I try and forget how lost I feel.
At times, it’s as if I could reach out and touch the voice, making a physical connection.
I dare not move as the last strains echo in the frigid, heavy air. Snow falls softly around me, covering my coat. Icy particles cling to tufts of hair poking out beneath my bobble hat. There’s not much to make out beyond the golden fairy lights; all around me is white, or deep waters, or outlines of beautifully scented pines.
As alone as I am out here, it’s peaceful and tranquil. I feel rooted to the spot, to this moment, unwilling to leave. Thinking about departing tomorrow genuinely makes me sad, and I know that Max plays a large role in how I’m feeling right now.
When I think about last night it makes my heart soar with genuine happiness, not only because I like Max, but because he’s a very masculine, strong male, who not only makes me feel hot and flustered, but safe and comforted. And he seems to want to see me through my awakening, as I’m calling it.
I’m in a really good place. A positive place.
After dropping Tabitha and Jenny at the train station this morning, and returning with some additional supplies to see us through until tomorrow, Laurence, Josie, Max and I chilled. We drank wine and watched TV, cooking pasta for dinner. When those two went off to talk, Max and I made out again. I think he was expecting me to regain some memories because afterwards he asked:Anything?
At first, he seemed disappointed, but then it cleared as he told me he had a few emails to send. As he balanced his laptop on his chest, I snuggled into his side, his arm draped over my back. We’d laughed that he was going to have to type one-handed, but before I was even aware of anything else I woke forty minutes later.
It’s been the best nap I’ve had in ages.
I twist towards the path that leads to the cabins. It’s dark, but the snow is reflective, bringing light all around me so I can make out the figure standing there, watching. I jolt but recover quickly when I recognise Max.
“Sorry.” He walks towards me, his boots crunching in virgin snow as a guilty smile appears on his face. “You looked so deep in thought, so transfixed, that I didn’t want to disturb you.”
“Well, you caught me. I was enjoying the quiet, and the sound of the snow.”
His mobile is in his hand. He raises it in front of him and aims it at me. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been taking your photo.”
“You have?”
“Like you, I’m transfixed by the view.” He comes to my side, holding back the chill of the evening with his solid presence. “But it was the beautiful, courageous woman in the centre of it that has me mesmerised.”
His sweet words have my heart climbing out of my chest. “Max,” I murmur.
He kisses my nose, laughing at how cold and pink it is. “And what the hell is this?” he ribs, tugging at my wonky-hearted scarf.
“I knitted this myself so be careful what you say,” I warn playfully.
