Page 303 of Mountain Grump
We walk down a little hill. And when I gasp, his fingers tighten around mine.
A portion of the path cuts down to the left, leading to a wooden boardwalk that goes out over a large pond.
A fountain shoots water a few feet into the air in the center of the pond. And it’s like Quackers’s pool.
Only bigger.
A whole flock of ducks flap their wings and take off from the pond’s surface, flying up into the sky.
I brush a tear off my cheek.
And we keep walking.
Past a mini amphitheater.
Past a giant swing set.
The path splits ahead of us.
The section going off to the right has two cones marking it as closed. The path to the left circles down into a thick section of forest, and I assume it circles back toward the pond.
I start that way, but Ethan tugs on my arm.
Trusting him, I follow Ethan around the cones and up the path.
There’s no one else out here.
It’s just us.
Us and the quiet noise of a forest filled with life.
We crest the rise and step into a natural opening in the trees. And in the center of the opening is a large gazebo.
We follow the path to it.
Curved benches line the inside of the gazebo, and the sloped roof will protect anyone sitting from rain. But the center of the roof is open.
We step up into the gazebo, and Ethan walks me to the middle.
Stopping, I tip my head back and look up at the clouds.
Then I imagine doing this at night, looking at the stars.
Ethan releases my hand and moves so he’s facing me. “By next summer, I want a conservatory. With a telescope for kids to use.”
I lower my eyes from the heavens to the man before me. “I… I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you like it.”
I shake my head. “Ethan. I love it.”
He exhales, like he’s been holding his breath for weeks.
I start to reach for him. Because I want to touch him.
But I stop, not sure…
Ethan grips my wrist, and he finishes my movement, pressing my hand to his chest.
