Page 21 of Found By the Mountain Man
I show him the email, watching his expression change from concern to pride to something that looks like awe.
"National Geographic," he says, pulling me into his arms. "That's incredible."
"It's because of this place," I tell him, pressing my face against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. "Because of you. Because you showed me that I could tell these stories differently. Show the truth without losing the beauty."
"You did that yourself," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "I just gave you a place to do it."
We've had this argument before—Connor crediting me, me crediting him, both of us too stubborn to accept that maybe we just make each other better. It's one of our favorite fights to have.
"We should celebrate," he says, spinning me around the kitchen. "What do you think about a hike today? Perfect weather for it."
"I'd love that," I say, my stomach fluttering with nerves and excitement. This is perfect—better than I could have planned. "Actually, I was thinking we could go to Black Creek. I want to show you something there."
Something in my tone makes him pause, studying my face with those perceptive eyes. "Show me what?"
"You'll see," I say, trying to keep my voice light. "Trust me."
An hour later, we're hiking the familiar trail that leads to Black Creek, our packs loaded with lunch and my camera equipment. The summer air is warm and sweet, filled with the scent ofwildflowers and pine. Everything is green and lush, so different from the icy wilderness where we first met, but just as beautiful.
Connor holds my hand as we navigate the rocky sections, his touch sure and steady. He knows these trails better than anyone, could probably walk them blindfolded, but he's still protective, still careful with me. It's one of the thousand small ways he shows his love.
"Remember when you used to think I was reckless?" I tease as we crest a small rise.
"Used to?" He grins at me. "You're still reckless. Just more careful about it now."
When we reach Black Creek, the water is running clear and gentle, so different from the rushing torrent that carried me away eighteen months ago. The ice formations are long gone, replaced by smooth stones and quiet pools that reflect the summer sky.
We find a spot on the bank where the aspens provide shade, and Connor spreads out our blanket. I set up my camera, ostensibly to capture the perfect light filtering through the leaves, but really because my hands need something to do while I work up the courage.
"This is where it all started," I say finally, sitting down beside him on the blanket.
"Where what started?" he asks, though I think he knows.
"Us. This life. Everything." I gesture toward the creek. "If I hadn't been foolish enough to step onto that ice, if you hadn't been skilled enough to find me..."
"You weren't foolish," he says firmly. "You were passionate. There's a difference."
"Passionate enough to nearly die for a photograph."
"Passionate enough to risk everything for something you believed in." He takes my hand, threading our fingers together. "That's not foolish, Mavis. That's brave."
I look at our joined hands, gathering my courage. In my pack, hidden beneath spare camera batteries and energy bars, is the small white stick that I've been carrying around for three days.
"Connor," I say, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I have something to tell you. Something important."
He goes still, his attention focused entirely on me, holding his breath. "What is it?"
I reach into my pack and pull out the pregnancy test, my hands trembling slightly as I place it on the blanket between us.
Connor stares at it for a long second, like his brain is struggling to process what he's seeing. Then his eyes snap to mine, wide with disbelief and hope.
"Are you?" He can't seem to finish the sentence.
"Pregnant," I whisper, nodding as tears start to blur my vision. "About eight weeks, I think. I took four tests to be sure."
The silence stretches between us, filled only by the gentle sound of water over stones and the whisper of wind through the aspens. For a terrifying moment, I wonder if this is too much, too fast. We've been married for only six months, together for eighteen months. Maybe he's not ready for this.
Then Connor's face breaks into the most beautiful smile I've ever seen, and he's reaching for me, pulling me into his arms as I laugh and cry at the same time.
