by Anne Chase
She rolled out three good-size lengths of wax paper, then reached into the bowl and divided the dough into three chunks: two big chunks, each of which she wrapped in the wax paper and set in the fridge. She sighed happily, already anticipating her evening activity of house-building and decorating.
But as for the final chunk of dough.... Even though the dough ideally needed to sit for at least a couple of hours, she couldn't resist taking a small chunk and rolling it out immediately. These few cookies would be just for her, so it didn't matter if they came out less than perfect.
She sprinkled flour on the rolling board, on her rolling pin, and then on the dough. She set the dough on the board and started rolling, putting in some muscle!
A minute later, the dough was a quarter-inch thick and perfect for the next step. She picked up her preferred cutout — a gingerbread man, of course — and started pressing it into the dough. The dough yielded four cookies. Another round of rolling yielded two more gingerbread cookies for the cookie sheet.
She picked up the cookie sheet and slid it into the oven. Oh, she could barely wait! In eight minutes, she knew, the cookies would be ready — soft and delicious and irresistible.
She should be strong, she told herself. When the cookies came out of the oven, she should let them cool. She should leave them be, let them lie undisturbed, so that she could decorate them this evening, after she got back from her walk with Bowzer. Yes, that's what a strong person would do.
But who was she kidding? Those cookies — at least a few of them — weren't going to survive long enough to be decorated. Becca's stomach chose that moment to rumble in agreement. Those cookies were doomed!
9
An hour later, the wonderful smell of the two surviving gingerbread cookies still fresh in the air, Becca gave herself one last look in her bathroom mirror before going out. She'd always been a list person, so she mentally reviewed her appearance:
Shoulder-length brown hair, a bit curlier than she would have liked, but still looking bouncy and clean after her shower: Check.
A hint of foundation on her cheeks to even out her complexion: Check.
A soft red lip balm, subtle rather than bold, to help protect her lips from the cold air outside: Check.
Her favorite burgundy turtleneck sweater, the one that somehow made her look a bit taller and a bit slimmer than her very average height and weight: Check.
Her new navy-blue ski pants, purchased for her move to Heartsprings Valley, which were not only wonderfully warm but which somehow made her legs look a bit longer than they really were: Check.
Yes, she thought, giving herself a final review, she was ready to face the world. At least as ready as she could be, here in this new town.
She touched the ring on the third finger of her left hand. A simple silver band with a single diamond. Even now it shone brightly.
She turned her head from side to side and pushed back her hair to make sure the silver reindeer earrings — a Christmas gift from her mom and dad — hadn't fallen off.
One last thing. She test-smiled and leaned closer to make sure she didn't have anything stuck between her teeth. She'd learned from hard-won experience how important this step was.
Clean teeth: Check!
Okay, she told herself, let's do this. She gave herself a nod, then left the bathroom and marched into the living room, where Bowzer was waiting patiently.
"Bowzer," she said, "you ready for a long walk?"
With an eager whine, her canine companion leaped to his feet and stretched and shook himself in anticipation.
She smiled as she slid into her comfy black winter boots. She put on her black winter gloves, then grabbed her red paisley scarf and wrapped it around her neck. Instantly she felt its comforting warmth against her skin.
As she shrugged into her thick dark-blue winter coat, she realized she was extremely bundled up. Maybe too bundled up? After all, the afternoon sun was shining brightly, and the town was small. Even if she got cold, the warmth and comfort of her cozy cottage would never be more than a short walk away. Could she leave some of her layers at home?
"Nope, better safe than sorry," she said to Bowzer, who'd been watching her with barely restrained impatience. "What about you? Are you going to be warm?"
Her gaze fell on Bowzer's shaggy white coat, which was built for wintry conditions. "Of course you're going to be warm," she said to him. "Just look at you!"
With a final check to make sure her wallet and phone were in her coat pocket, she bent down with the leash and hooked it to Bowzer's collar.
"Ready, boy?"
With a happy bark, Bowzer pulled her to the door, which she promptly opened.
And they were off! Becca breathed in sharply as she adjusted to the crisp winter afternoon air. The sun above cast bright light on everything, with the reflection on the snow causing her to squint and remember —
"Sunglasses!" she said out loud. She stopped in her tracks and tried to recall where she'd left them. After a second, she got it: On the kitchen counter, in the change basket next to the fridge.
"One second, Bowzer." She turned around and opened her red front door and bustled into the kitchen and found her glasses and slipped them on. Yes, much better. The smell of the gingerbread cookies was so wonderful that she couldn't resist: She leaned closer to the two surviving cookies on the wire rack and breathed in the wonderful aroma. Weakened even further, she picked one up. The gingerbread man was bare of decorations, but in that moment, she didn't care.
"Sorry, little guy, momma's hungry and she's got a big walk ahead of her."
She bit his head off — yummmm — and reveled in the wonderful taste. His legs and arms quickly found their way into her mouth, followed at last by his torso.
"Yum," she said to Bowzer, who gave her an impatient bark.
She laughed, her mouth still full of gingerbread man, and said, "Yes, Bowzer, you're absolutely right, I need to stop eating these cookies!"
Without another second's delay, she marched back out the door, shut it firmly behind her, and aimed herself forward.
Onward ho!
10
The mid-afternoon winter sun was bright overhead as Becca and Bowzer made their way to the end of Pine Street and stepped onto the path that led to the meadow near Heartsprings Lake. A crisp gust of wind blew against her cheeks as her boots crunched through the snow. The ground wasn't icy, but she made sure she paid careful attention to her steps. The last thing she wanted was an unanticipated spill.
Bowzer had no such worries. Excitedly, his nose sniffing at every bush and tree, he pulled her forward.
The path leading to the meadow wound gently through a stand of pine trees. Sunlight dappled the snow already coating the ground. Though cold, the air seemed milder here amidst the trees, protected from the winds.
That protection vanished the instant she and Bowzer emerged onto the open meadow. A rush of air caused her to gasp. Brrr!
"It's so cold, Bowzer," she said to her companion, who was too busy sniffing the ground to pay any attention.
The meadow gently sloped upward to a crest. When Becca reached the high point of the meadow, she stopped and gasped again as she was treated to the glorious vista of Heartsprings Lake before her. The lake, nestled on either side by mountains, was dazzling, the sunlight reflecting off its frozen surface, making her very happy she'd remembered to bring her sunglasses. The lake wasn't large, but it certainly was beautiful. She'd read that in the summer months it was a favorite of waterskiers and boaters and fishermen.
But now, with winter upon them, she saw a different activity in full swing: ice skating! She smiled as she gazed upon a dozen or more skaters flying across the surface of the frozen lake. Some of the skaters looked like beginners, their movements tentative and awkward, while others danced effortlessly across the ice, their smooth gliding a testament to their experience and skill.
Like her, the skaters were bundled up for winter. She zeroed in one of the skillful skaters and re
alized it was Bert Winters, whom she had met the day before in the town square. She remembered how Abby had described him — "Mr. Everything" — and smiled.
"Come on, Bowzer," she said. Eagerly, the two of them followed the path down the meadow to the shore of the lake.
Bert saw her, waved, and zoomed up to the edge of the shore. "Good afternoon, young lady," he boomed, a grin on his face.
"Afternoon to you, Bert. Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas! I understand you'll be at Hettie Mae's tomorrow."
"Absolutely."
"Good, good." His eyes swung to Bowzer. "I see that Dr. Gail introduced you to Bowzer."
"She sure did. I think she and Abby had a secret plan to get me to adopt him."
Bert chuckled. "That wouldn't surprise me at all. Is that what you'll be doing? Adopting him?"
"Yes. I never thought I'd find myself in this situation, especially not so soon after moving here, but...." She reached down and gave Bowzer a pat. "How could I resist?"
"That's the spirit."
"We're taking an afternoon walk. Any suggestions?"
"There are wonderful walking paths on the ridge above the lake that I'd recommend. A few of them rise high enough to provide incredible views of the lake. But maybe not today, not with the —"
Bert's attention was diverted at that moment by a child's cry. The two of them turned and saw that a boy, about six years old, had fallen on the ice and was shaken up.
"My grandson Charlie," he said. "I better get over there and help."
"Is he okay?" she asked anxiously.
"He's fine," he said, eyeing him expertly. "He just needs a little reassurance and a helping hand."
"Great seeing you, Bert. Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas, Becca!" Bert said as he skated away.
11
Becca watched from the edge of the lake as Bert helped his grandson back onto his feet. The two of them talked for a minute as Bert wiped tears from the boy's face and helped him blow his nose. Bert held out his hand and said something, and the boy nodded. Taking hold of his grandfather's hand, the boy started moving forward on his skates again, tentatively at first, then with greater confidence. After a minute of holding tight, he let go and set out on his own, his little legs pushing him faster and faster across the ice.
Family was so important, Becca thought. She'd been so lucky growing up in her family, and Christmas always reminded her of that essential truth.
Bowzer chose that moment to nuzzle her leg. She glanced down at her new canine companion, who returned her gaze with a hopeful expression.
"You ready for more exploring, Bowzer?" she said.
He gave her an encouraging bark, and the two of them continued along the shoreline, enjoying the afternoon air and the heartwarming sight of skaters flying across the ice.
Ahead of her, she noticed a sign that said, "Ridge Trail." Bert had mentioned the trails and the views of the valley. She looked back toward Bert to see if she could ask him more, but she saw he was far out on the lake now, skating after his energetic (and now very confident) grandson.
She turned to Bowzer. "Why don't we see where the trail takes us? What do you say?"
Bowzer barked his agreement. With a rush of pleasure at how adventurous she was feeling, she led Bowzer onto the trail. The snow on the path wasn't thick at all — an inch or two at most — and felt soft and fluffy. The slight crunch under her booted feet gave her a sense of comfort that she wasn't likely to encounter icy or slippery conditions. She knew from experience that if anyone was likely to tumble on icy ground, it was her.
The air was so fresh, with a hint of snow and pine. She breathed in deeply.
"It's so beautiful, isn't it?" she said to Bowzer, who was too busy sniffing the base of a tree to agree.
The trail wound gently in a switchback pattern up the mountain. At every turn in the path, evergreen trees greeted her, snow dusting their branches. Aside from the sound of the breeze rustling through the trees and the occasional panting of her companion, the mountain trail was wonderfully quiet.
A squawk from above caused her to look up into the blue sky, where she spied a hawk soaring, its wings spread to catch the air.
Even though she wasn't tired or even breathing heavily, she knew she'd be tuckered out after today's walk. The exercise was good for her, she told herself. Filling her lungs with fresh air, stretching her legs on a nice hike, enjoying a beautiful day with a happy dog — was there a better way to spend an afternoon?
She'd been climbing for a good twenty minutes when she reached a turn that opened to a view of the lake below. She stopped and gasped.
It was so beautiful! The lake stretched out below her, hugged on all sides by mountains covered with lush stands of evergreen trees dusted with snow. Below her, skaters dashed and danced across the ice. On the shore, she saw that a number of folks were taking off their skates and getting ready to head back home. They all looked so tiny from where she stood — like miniature figures in a snow globe. She was just able to make out Bert and his grandson on the shore, where Bert was helping remove a skate from his grandson's foot.
From where she stood on the trail, she also had a view of the meadow that she and Bowzer had walked across, along with a view of the edge of her neighborhood.
But she couldn't see her own cottage or the town square of Heartsprings Valley itself — not from where she was standing right now. She looked up the ridge and noticed, further up, a viewing spot that appeared to offer a more commanding view.
"Come on, Bowzer," she said. "Momma wants to see what our cottage looks like from higher up."
Always happy to explore more, Bowzer bounded forward, his eagerness helping to tug her up the path. After a few minutes, they reached a fork in the path, with one path following the ridge above the lake and the other heading toward what looked like a pass to the back side of the ridge. A few minutes later, they reached a second fork, again with one path following the ridge along the lake.
After a few more minutes of climbing, she realized that the panting she heard wasn't from Bowzer, but from her. The path had gotten steeper as they'd climbed higher. Her gentle afternoon stroll had turned into a real workout!
The wind was picking up now, the breeze rustling the tops of the trees. A dash of wintry air swept across her cheeks, which, she expected, were now rosy-red from the cold. But her goal wasn't far, she sensed.
"Come on, Bowzer," she said, picking up her pace. "We're almost there."
Another bend in the trail and yet another fork appeared, but she pressed on, her breath and Bowzer's puffing away as they pushed closer and closer to their goal.
Finally, after a steep stretch of trail that really got her legs burning with exertion, she reached the spot she'd seen.
And what she was able to see from her spot high on the ridge overlooking the valley was — glorious! Below her was a panoramic view of Heartsprings Valley. The town looked so wonderful from this vantage point — the very essence of small-town New England. She was able to pick out the town square, and even the top of the bandstand in the center of the square. A block away, she saw the rooftop turrets of the veterinary clinic where she and Bowzer had found each other. Just a few blocks from there, she knew, was her quaint neighborhood. She couldn't see her cozy cottage — the surrounding trees blocked the view — but she smiled and felt comforted knowing it was there.
On the snow-covered meadow next to the lake, she noticed folks heading back to town after their afternoon of ice-skating. As her gaze wandered toward the lake itself, she realized that all of the skaters had called it a day.
She frowned. It was almost like they'd all decided to leave at the same time. But why would they do that? She glanced at the mountains on the other side of the lake, and on the horizon she saw why. Huge dark clouds were bearing down from the east.
A gust of arctic air hit her then, like a warning, and Bowzer whimpered. She recalled what Bert and Abby had said the previous day: A nor'easter was
coming. She had assumed, from the way they were talking, that a nor'easter was not to be taken lightly. And my, those clouds looked angry and ominous.
Another blast of wind hit her and she gasped. It was time to head home — time to get her and Bowzer safely ensconced in their cozy cottage.
But even as that thought planted itself in her mind, she couldn't help but stand still for a few seconds more and watch, transfixed, as the advancing storm swept over the mountains on the other side of the lake. There was a terrible beauty to the fury of the approaching blizzard. It seemed to roll forward like a relentless wave. The mountains on the other side of the lake disappeared as the dark angry clouds raced toward her.
The storm was moving so fast! Within seconds, it seemed, the lake had vanished as well, lost amidst a swirling maelstrom of snow and wind.
With a mixture of awe and mounting fear, she watched the storm reach her side of the lake. For just a few seconds more, the sun was still above her and she could see the town below her, but then —
Pow!
12
With a roar, the storm was upon them. She gasped and Bowzer barked in bewilderment as they were surrounded by swirling winds and blinding snow. The bright afternoon sun vanished, replaced by a dim grayness. The storm's fury lashed against them. Instead of being able to see for miles, visibility dropped to mere yards.
She needed to get herself and Bowzer down off this mountain — pronto! Which meant getting back to the lake. Once she got down the mountain, she knew she could find her way home.
"Come on, Bowzer," she said, urgency in her voice. "Let's get out of here!"
Her companion needed no persuasion. With a determined gait, he headed back toward where they'd come.
But that was easier said than done. With the skies darkened by the storm and gusty winds whipping across her face, she was having trouble following the path. What had been, a short while ago, a clearly defined trail was now becoming harder to distinguish.
