Page 109 of One Foggy Christmas
“It’s my first time in any part of Switzerland. What about you?”
“Yeah, first time in Switzerland. The skiing is great, don’t you think?”
“Uh, I haven’t been down a slope yet. I’ve just been enjoying the view of the mountains from the gondola.”
My brows drop in confusion, but she can’t see it through my gear. “Do you need some help?”
“No, I’m thinking about skiing…working myself up to it.”
“But you know how, right?”
“Yes. I think so.” Her gloved hand lifts, running over her helmet like a nervous reaction. The gesture reminds me so much of Sadie it scares me, as if her ghost will always haunt me.
“How many days are you here?” I ask, distracting myself from the unlikely similarities.
“I started in Lucerne and did some Christmas highlights there.”
“What was your favorite?”
“Probably the Diorama Bethlehem where you see the nativity with over four-hundred and fifty wood-carved figures.”
“I saw it.” I smile, my stubble getting caught on the fabric of my ski mask.
“So you know how incredible it was.”
“Yeah. I did Lucerne and Lugano for about a week and then took the train to St. Moritz.”
“Same. I have one more day here, and then I’ll go to Zermatt.”
“Same.”
Her shoulders lift and even that small gesture has a familiar quality to it. “I guess we’re doing the same trip.”
“I guess so.”
“It’s a popular itinerary at Christmastime,” she says.
“For sure.”
I stare at her. She’s the right size. Her ski clothes are different, but that’s to be expected since the ones I remember were cut off after the accident. The voice, although muffled under a mask, sounds close.
What if…
My heart lifts with hope, picking up speed inside my chest. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt it beat like this. The last time was six months ago when Sadie texted me out of the blue to say thank you for believing in her. That one innocent text sent me into a tailspin for weeks. I can’t do that again.
I shake my head, reasoning with myself.
It’s not possible. I’m delusional and lonely and trying to make something out of nothing.
The gondola skitters over the cable as it approaches the top of the hill.
“Are you going to get out?”
She shakes her head. “Not this time.”
The doors open, and I stand to leave.
“I hope you have a great trip and a merry Christmas.”
