Page 310 of Mountain Grump
I watch her move aside a birthday card. The one with the fairy on the front.
My throat fills with emotion, knowing she kept it.
Then she pulls out a small hardcover book.
The cover is plain, but when I open it, that emotion acts like gravity. And I pull Tilda to me.
I hold her against my side as I turn the pages.
As I look at our wedding photos.
Tilda had it custom printed. With the photos from our ceremony. With photos from the cabin.
The one of us before we left, when my lips are pressed to the top of her head.
“It’s perfect.” I kiss her hair.
She leans into me. “I got rid of the dress.”
Her words are quiet.
An admission.
A regret.
I press another kiss to her hair. “I got the dress back.”
Tilda tips her head back to look up at me. “What?”
I press a kiss to the tip of her nose. “It’s in my closet.”
Her mouth drops open. “How?”
“I’ll tell you later.” Then I turn us, walk her to the window, and yank the curtains open.
Tilda steps away from me and puts her hand on the glass. “Holy…”
Beyond the glass… is a winter wonderland.
Snow clings to every branch, coats every inch of ground, covers everything in a blanket of white.
And it all sparkles under the morning light.
“What about the flowers?” Her question is quiet.
I place my hand on her back, holding the book against my chest with the other, thinking that I need to put that first scrap of ribbon, and the ticket I never gave her, between the pages.
Tilda looks up at me. “The flowers at the Wilderness Camp.”
I lift a shoulder. “They’ll bloom again next year.”
“Oh. But…” Her eyes widen. “Quackers!”
She rushes away from me, and I shake my head as I follow.
Tilda is already against the window facing the front of the house, and I stop beside her, looking down at Quackers as she paddles a circle in her pool. The fountain prevents the water from freezing.
I smile at the bird as I put an arm around Tilda’s shoulders. “You convinced she’s fine?”
