by Lois Richer
“Yes.” He studied her. “But you’ll need warmer clothes. The jacket is okay but—”
“I have my snow pants in the van,” she said. “I should order a new coat and return this one of your mother’s—”
“I gave it to you. Keep it,” he said. “Come on. You can put on your snow pants while I get my ski suit on.”
“Okay.” She trudged through the snow behind him. Once inside she blinked in surprise at the emptiness of the kitchen. “It feels so big in here.”
“I guess you haven’t been in here in a while. I’ve taken out a lot of stuff.” He grinned. “When you first came here and moved stuff around, it made me realize how much room there could be.”
“You’ve done a great job,” she said, sliding her fingers across a highboy. “I didn’t notice this before. It’s lovely.”
“Yeah. Mom insisted we bring it back with us after our term in Pakistan. It cost a fortune but Dad had given it to her for Christmas one year and she wouldn’t leave it behind.”
“Did you like living there?” she asked, studying the intricate work.
“Yes. I had a lot of friends and there was always something interesting to do.” He found his outdoor gear.
“It must have been hard to move here,” she murmured, thinking of the little boy who’d left behind everything familiar.
“With Dad in the military, I was used to moving. Plus my parents always made relocating sound like a big adventure.” He paused, his gaze faraway. “Churchill feels like home.” Kyle roused himself after a minute and shrugged. “I’ll go change out of my uniform.”
“I’m glad you wore it to the ceremony. You look really good in it,” she told him, shyly determined to let Kyle hear her admiration. “You represented your part of the forces so well. The whole service was wonderful. I’ve never seen anything like that before,” she murmured.
“You’ve never been to a Remembrance Day service?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Last year I went by myself but it wasn’t like today.” Feeling childish, she kept her eyes downcast. “I never understood it. My foster parents never talked about people who served to keep our country safe.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Kyle muttered before he disappeared into his room to change clothes.
Sara stared after him for a moment, wondering how much he’d learned about her life in the foster home when he’d looked her up online.
After a moment, she shrugged it off and pulled on her snow pants. This day was about Kyle’s dad, not her wretched past. She stared at the lean, angled face of the man in the picture on the wall and wished she’d known Matt Loness.
God, I don’t have many weeks left here. Please help me help him, she prayed silently.
When Kyle emerged from the bedroom he wore jeans, thick socks and a flannel shirt.
“Ready?” he asked as he dragged on his snowsuit.
“Yes.” She zipped up the red jacket he’d lent her. It still felt like a warm hug, but it was nothing compared to being in Kyle’s arms. Pushing away her longing, she pulled up the hood. “Will we walk?”
“No. I want to go up on the cliffs and I’m not sure how much I can handle in all this snow. I thought we could take the snowmobile if you don’t mind riding behind and holding this.” He lifted a small black box off the table. “I can put it in my knapsack if you’d rather not—”
“I’d be honored.” Her smile died when she saw him pull a small handgun out of a metal safe. “What’s that for?”
“Bears. Just in case. I have a whistle, as well.” He tucked both in his pocket. “Shall we go?”
She followed him outside. A snowmobile sat at the side of his house. It started with one pull.
“Tony got this old thing running. He’s got a great future as a mechanic if he wants it,” Kyle said over the roar of the motor. He helped her straddle the seat.
While Sara clasped the box with both hands, Kyle slid a helmet on her head, fastened it then put on his own. She made herself small, trying to leave enough room for him to sit in front of her, but she was soon glad of his broad back as, a moment later, they went gliding over the snow toward the cliffs.
Filled with trepidation at first, Sara gradually relaxed and found she loved the ride, even when she had to grab hold of Kyle with one hand to keep from falling off. The world seemed like a downy white quilt spread around them. She wondered how far they’d go.
Once on the cliffs, Kyle slowed down as if he was trying to find exactly the right spot. Finally he stopped the snowmobile on a huge, wind-hardened drift that overlooked the bay. He climbed off then held out a hand.
“Dad loved to come and sit here in the summer. He called it his thinking spot. I think this will do.” Once she’d stepped off, he removed his helmet and set it on the seat. Then he took the box from her. “I’m going to walk closer to the edge but you don’t have to come.”
“Of course I’m coming.” Sara removed her own helmet before following, matching her steps with his. When he faltered on a rough patch, she slid her arm through his and pretended she needed his guidance.
“This is the place,” Kyle said when they’d gone about a hundred yards.
Sara caught her breath at the vista. Below her the land dropped away to water, which shone like polished glass. Tufts of snow jutted up in icy peaks covered by froth.
“I’m guessing we’ll have an early freeze-up this year,” Kyle said.
“Is that good?”
“I guess it depends on your viewpoint,” he said. “The tourists like to see the polar bears but when the ice locks in, the bears leave. Don’t let that ice fool you, though. It’s not thick yet. At these temperatures it will take about another week before it’s safe to walk on.”
Sara glanced around. She’d seen polar bears many times since she’d first arrived. Though she marveled at their beauty, she was in awe of the strength and the power of their massive jaws.
“Relax. I haven’t seen any signs,” he said with a half smile. “You’re safe.”
“Polar bears make me think of that verse, ‘Fearfully and wonderfully made,’” she told him.
But Kyle’s attention was on the small box. He took off his gloves and tucked them under his arm before lifting the lid.
The afternoon seemed to suddenly still. A hush fell. Sara could hear the crackle of the ice and little else. The skies were turning that leaden gray tone that she’d learned meant snow was imminent. Everything seemed to wait.
“Well, Dad,” Kyle finally said very softly, “I brought you back to the place you loved the most. I know you’re happier now that you’re in heaven with Mom, but—I miss you.” The last three words burst out of him as if he could no longer contain them. He blinked his eyes hard then murmured, “Goodbye, Dad. I love you.”
Sara held her breath as he lifted his arm and slowly tipped the box. A zephyr wind skipped across the snow from behind them. It caught the ashes and carried them in a trail out over the water, where they disappeared and became part of the landscape. She tipped her head up as huge fat snowflakes began to tumble from the heavens.
When she looked at Kyle, he looked bereft, utterly sad and totally alone.
“Your father would have loved hearing what you said,” she told him.
“How do you know?” His voice cracked as he dashed away a tear.
“What father wouldn’t love a tribute like that from his beloved son?” When he’d pulled on his gloves, Sara again slipped her arm through his, wanting to show him that she was there for him, to ease his pain if he’d let her.
“I miss him.” Those three words emerged in a cracked and strained voice. He pulled her tightly against him and buried his face in her neck. “I miss him so much.”
“I know.” Sara held him, feeling the sobs heave his chest and knowing this release had been a long time coming. She smoothed his hair with her gloved fingers and waited. When he finally quieted, she eased his head up so she could see his face. “But your father is still with you.
You carry him inside your heart, Kyle.”
He looked at her for a very long time.
“Only you would say that.” He leaned forward and pressed his icy lips against hers, asking, giving, loving.
Stunned at first, Sara did her best to respond, to show him how special he was to her. She knew nothing of the proper way to kiss a man. But she knew that she loved kissing this one. She only knew it felt right to melt into Kyle’s arms, to express all that he had come to mean to her. So she kissed him back as her heart overflowed with love.
“How do you do it, Sara?” Kyle asked as he at last drew away, his arms still circled around her. “How do you always know exactly the right thing to say to make me feel better?”
“Do you feel better?” she asked timidly.
“Yes, I do.” He brushed his lips against her forehead and let them rest there, lost in his thoughts. Some moments later he said, “Dad was spared pain and suffering. He died in a place he loved among those he loved. And they loved him.” He lifted his head. His thumbs pressed her tousled hair off her face. “It would be selfish to wish he’d stayed. And you’re right, he is in my heart. Even after I leave here, that won’t change.” His arms dropped away and it was like a frigid arctic air mass had moved in.
“Do you have to leave?” Sara peered up at him, wishing, praying he’d say no.
“I can’t stay in Churchill.” He turned and led the way to the snowmobile. “What would I do?”
“What you have been doing,” she said. “Work at Lives helping the kids, being a part of the community.”
“And live on what?” He handed her a helmet. “Laurel can’t afford to pay me even if I was qualified to work with the boys. Which I’m not.”
“She’s working on a grant to add positions at Lives,” Sara told him. “Maybe—”
“I can’t live here anymore, Sara.”
She swallowed hard but she could not stifle the words. “You belong here,” she pleaded, praying he’d agree.
“Maybe once, but not anymore.” He drew a ragged breath. “It’s too hard to know I’ll never be able to take guests snowshoeing, to know that I will never be able to take anyone hunting or teach them to track. It’s killing me to see everything I’ve always loved and know I can’t do it anymore.”
“Why can’t you?” she demanded. “You took us in the Zodiacs.”
“It took me ages to figure out how to do that,” he said.
“You don’t have time?” Sara wasn’t giving up no matter how he glared at her.
“I had Teddy to help me that day,” Kyle growled. “I can’t expect him to come running every time I need help.”
New insight dawned in Sara’s mind.
“That’s what your decision to leave is really about, isn’t it?” She shook her head, amazed she hadn’t seen it before. “You feel you’ll become dependent if you let someone help you.”
“Yes, that’s it. Okay?” His angry outburst echoed around them. “I can no longer rely on me. And I hate that.”
He glared at her so fiercely, Sara should have been frightened. Instead, her heart wept.
Oh, Kyle, if you only understood how much joy it gives others to help you. Especially me.
“Get on the snowmobile, Sara,” he said, his voice resigned. “I want to go home.”
“Of course you do,” she said, facing him. “Because it is home. And home is where you belong, Kyle. It’s where we all belong.” She forced a smile. “By the way, just so you know, no one can completely rely on themselves. Everyone needs God in their lives.”
She knew from his obstinate look that she couldn’t change his mind so she climbed on behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, praying for him as they glided over the snow.
At his house Kyle jerked the machine to a halt and pulled off his knapsack. “Thanks for coming,” he growled.
“Wait a minute.” She pulled on his arm, forcing him to stop. “We have some things to talk about.”
“What things?” Kyle went up the ramp and inside with Sara behind him. He shucked off his outdoor clothes then flopped into a chair.
“You kissed me,” she began haltingly.
“Yeah.” He looked at her and her heart began to race at the flash in his blue eyes. “That shouldn’t have happened.”
Her heart stopped. “Wh-why?”
“It was a reaction thing. I was—upset and you comforted me and—” He shrugged.
“I was in the right place at the right time. Is that what you’re saying?” She glared at him.
“Sara, I cannot have a relationship with you.”
Why wasn’t she smarter? Why didn’t she know the right words to say?
“Why can’t you have a relationship with me?”
“I’m a crippled guy who hasn’t figured out how to handle life on his own, let alone with someone else. I’m trying but I have a long way to go before I’ll be able to fully trust God again.” He rose and began pacing, a flicker of anguish tightening his mouth.
“Look at me. I can’t even carry two cups to the table without worrying if I’ll spill one.”
“And you think that matters?” She got up, carried her own cup to the table and sat down again. “Independence is a great thing, Kyle, until you shut everyone out. Please don’t shut me out. I care about you. I—I love you.”
There, she’d bared her heart. Saying the words had terrified her. She’d never opened up to anyone as she had to this man. But though she was scared of his reaction, she was also proud of her feelings, glad that her heart had chosen him.
“Sara.” Kyle sat down then shook his head. “You can’t.”
She was suddenly angry. “Why?”
“Because you’ve never had a relationship, have you?” He nodded when she shook her head. “You don’t know what love is.”
“Really?” She glared at him. “Wasn’t it you who told me, not too long ago, that I knew more about love than most people?” She shook her head at him. “Forget the condescension, Kyle. I may be inexperienced, but I do know what’s in my heart. I love you. You’re just going to have to deal with it.”
Kyle stared at her for a moment, obviously surprised. Sara held his gaze, refusing to back down. Finally he spoke.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was trying to say that you might be mistaken.”
“I’m not.”
“Sara, you’re leaving in a month and a half.” A desperate pleading filled his voice. “You’ve got a chance to live the life you want. You’ll find someone special, someone who can love you the way you need.”
“Someone like you,” she whispered, her heart plummeting at every word.
“No.” Kyle shook his head. “Someone the opposite of me.” He sighed, rubbed his knee. “If I were going to have a relationship, I’d want it to be with someone like you, Sara. But I can’t.”
“Because you’re afraid you’ll get hurt again?” Her boldness amazed her.
“Because I have nothing to give anyone.”
Sara sat very still, taking in all that Kyle had just said, trying to understand the truth that lay behind his words and fend off the deep hurt he’d caused. Finally she said, “My brother hasn’t answered my letter yet. I guess he’s like you. He doesn’t want me, either.”
“I’m sorry.” He moved, as if he’d enfold her in his arms again then stopped himself. “Give him time. I’m sure he’ll change his mind.”
“Like you will?” she asked. He didn’t answer. “I don’t think God is going to give me my family, Kyle. I don’t think it’s His will. The thing is, I can’t figure out what His will for me is. I thought I’d find it here. That’s why I came. I was so sure—” She dashed away her tears as she stared out the window at the snowmobile covered in fresh snowflakes.
“Sara, please talk to me,” Kyle said in a low, intense voice.
She smiled at him even as her heart wondered how she’d manage when he was no longer there to talk to. When she was alone.
“What are you thinking?”<
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“That I now understand the allure of that machine,” she murmured. “That ride today—it must be wonderful to get on and go be alone in the wilderness with your thoughts.”
“Would you like to learn to drive it?”
“What?” Sara stared at Kyle. “Are you serious?”
“Why not?” He shrugged. “Might come in handy someday.”
“I’d love it.”
He rose. “Come on. Let’s go have your first lesson. I doubt you’ll need more than one.”
It felt good to move, to break, to escape the tension her admission of love had brought to the room. But the thought of driving that powerful machine terrified her. Heart in her throat, Sara pulled on her warm clothes and followed Kyle outside. The snowmobile sat there, big and intimidating, but offering a whole new world to explore.
“You start it like this.” He made her repeat the process several times then listed the rules and made her repeat them back to him.
The entire time Sara struggled to keep her focus off the way Kyle’s hand felt covering hers, the way his smile lit up the blue in his eyes, the way his broad shoulders behind her made her feel safe, protected when he took his seat behind her. He was so gentle, so tender and patient. She had to keep reminding herself that this was the man who had just said he could never love her.
“I think you’re ready. Head that way.” He pointed toward the cliffs where they’d been earlier.
Sara felt his shoulders shake when she pushed the throttle too hard and the machine jerked forward. Embarrassed, she bit her lip and tried again. After several attempts, she soon had the knack of slowing for bumps and crossing trails. Bit by bit she revved the engine to move faster. Okay, he’d said he couldn’t love her. But he couldn’t stop her from treasuring these precious moments alone with Kyle in this vast, white wilderness.
He directed her past the grain terminal and out of town. Unsure of their destination, Sara followed his directions. Soon they were in the middle of nowhere with only shrubs and the river distinguishing the landscape. Lost in the beauty, she was startled when Kyle asked her to stop.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No. You did fine,” he assured her. “I need to stand for a few minutes.” He winced as he tried to stand.
