I duck under a tree limb that’s drooping under the weight of the snow, my feet starting to go numb in my boots. And I blink a couple of times to make sure that I’m not seeing things. The cabin should be straight ahead, but where are all of those lights coming from?
Anxiously, I pick up my pace, and adjust the pack on my back. The cabin is hidden from view as I climb the knoll leading to the backyard. All I saw was colored lights. Oh God, please don’t let it be an ambulance taking Ivy away. I was such an idiot for doing this. I should never have left her.
The snow sinks above my knees, causing me to scratch and claw my way to the top, as I slip, trying to gain solid ground. I’m working up a sweat with all of these layers on, and I curse the bulkiness of my outerwear for making me move so slowly. Panting, I make it to the rise and look over.
It’s not an ambulance at all.
It’s Christmas lights.
The outside of the cabin is adorned with row upon row of sparkly, twinkly Christmas lights.
For a moment, I just stand there and take it all in. It looks amazing, but I’m still going to kill her. Ivy wasn’t supposed to get out of bed, never mind decorate the entire house. Where did she even get all of these lights?
I sling the strap of Tim’s rifle over my shoulder and hurry across the blanketed field. I can’t wait to see her. It’s not even been a week, but it seems like forever. Any day without seeing Ivy feels too long.
She must have seen me coming because the front door flies open before I can even climb the steps. She’s been patiently awaiting my return, not knowing when I’d be back. What other woman on earth would put up with me the way she does? She accepts me, flaws and all, but I have to strive to be better for her. I can’t keep on giving in to these dark moods of mine. She deserves so much more than that.
She looks happy and glowing as I take the steps two at a time, not stopping until my gloved hands are around her waist and she’s pushing back my hood to give me a kiss. The whiskers on my beard must be tickling her as she laughs against my mouth.
She gasps when her warm nose brushes against mine. “Eric, you’re frozen solid! C’mon. Let’s get you warmed up by the fire.”
I kick the door closed with the back of my foot and obediently follow her as she guides me in front of the roaring hearth. I don’t know how, but she even found time to look extra pretty for me as I watch the curls at the back of her head bounce along with every step. The red sweater she has on is new, but it’s not a maternity top. It’s hugging her curves in all the right places. I want to see more of that plunging v-neckline. If only she’d turn around.
But for a second, I’m caught up just gazing around. The inside of the cabin looks just as wonderful as the outside. She has a bough of fresh holly festooned with candles draped across the mantle. There are a series of light-up snow globes lined up on the coffee table, which I recognize from the Riverside Gardens’ inventory. But what really catches my attention is the tree in the corner. It’s one of my favorites from the lot, and it’s nearly touching the ceiling. Ivy must have spent hours stringing the popcorn garland and making the Popsicle-stick ornaments. But the one that catches my eye is the Styrofoam ball with the message “Baby’s First Christmas” glued on in different shades of pink and blue glitter.
“Do you like it?” she whispers, turning around with a hopeful smile on her face.
I nod, overwhelmed by the beauty that’s surrounding me.
“Good.” Her smile widens, dazzling me. “I think your dad wanted to bury the hatchet. He came over and helped set everything up, and since it’s our first Saturday date night, I wanted it to be extra special.”
“But how did you know that I was coming home tonight?” I ask as she starts pulling off my gloves and unzippering my coat.
“I had a feeling,” she says, her eyes smoldering up at me. “Why don’t you get rid of that gun so we can get more comfortable?”
I flush. I even forgot I still had it on. I’ll have to give it back to Ben tomorrow. I don’t like having it in the house since I’ve always been a little leery of firearms. I check the safety and store it in the tiny alcove off the doorway, doffing my wet boots and overalls in the process.
Ivy’s watching me expectantly as I remove one article of clothing after another until I’m just in my boxers and thermal undershirt. She takes a deep breath, one hand resting behind her back, the other playing with the chain around her neck. The two instances give me reason to pause.
“Did your fingers swell up? Is that why your ring’s not on your finger?” I question, returning to her side to knead my knuckles into her lower back.