by Donna Alward
Harper came back with a steaming mug of mint tea and put it in front of Adele. “You look like your brain hurts,” Harper commented, sitting back in her chair. “What’s going on?”
Adele blew on her tea. “So, I did see Dan the other day. He asked me to lunch to apologize.”
“After the fruit basket?”
“Yeah.”
“It didn’t go well, I take it.”
She sipped the tea. The mint was fresh and calming—just what she needed. “It started off okay. But ended with a big argument and talking about how our relationship ended.” She took a big breath and met Harper’s gaze. “I finally told him why I left. It was...difficult.”
Harper was quiet for a moment. “I take it this is more than I already know.”
Adele nodded. “More than I’ve ever said out loud to anyone. And I’m glad we talked. It was one of the hardest afternoons I’ve had since...well, since we broke up.” And that was saying something. There’d been plenty of difficult afternoons during her illness.
Silence fell for a few minutes and then Harper put her hand over Adele’s. “I can tell this is something really hard for you. You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. I know there are some things that are too painful to put into words.”
Adele wondered what she meant, or how she knew, but it did make her feel better. Safe. She looked into her best friend’s eyes and saw compassion and acceptance. And also strength. She nodded and said the words for the second time that week.
“I can’t have children. I had cancer.”
Harper’s eyes softened and she gave a small nod. “I see. I’m sorry, honey.”
“It’s okay. I had cervical cancer and they had to take my uterus. Then I had radiation.”
“God.” Harper reached over and took Adele’s free hand. “This was when you were twenty-one?”
“Yeah. Nearly twenty-two.”
“And you were alone.”
Harper already knew about Adele’s difficult relationship with her mother. Adele hadn’t seen her in three years now. “Pretty much,” Adele admitted.
“And this is why you broke up with Dan?”
She nodded, and proceeded to explain her rationale, with Harper sipping her tea and nodding occasionally. But when she got to the part about why she’d avoided telling Dan the real reason why, a frown appeared in the form of a wrinkle at the top of Harper’s nose.
“I don’t understand,” she said, putting down her cup. “Why not explore other options? Like adoption? Why was it all or nothing?”
Adele sighed. “This is where my logic seemed so right at the time but isn’t as clear-cut right now. I knew he’d say it would be okay and we’d work through it together, but I felt like he’d feel he had to say that no matter what he really thought. That I’d be tempted to stay and then he’d end up resenting me, or we’d grow apart and I’d be even more broken.”
“So you ran away instead.”
“Something like that. Adoption isn’t easy. And I was honestly stuck on the fact that I wouldn’t be able to provide him with his own child.”
“And is that important? The blood connection?”
Adele looked at Harper. “Not as much now as it had seemed then, if I’m honest. I made the decision in a time of stress and confusion, you know? I felt like...such a failure. And since then, I kept telling myself he was probably happy with someone else. Someone with a whole reproductive system.” She gave a short laugh. “Look, I know it sounds awful now. My logical brain tells me that it doesn’t matter if I have a uterus. I’m a woman without it. My emotional brain...not so much. And back then I was running on emotion. All the time.”
Harper nodded. “Of course you were. But he’s not happy with someone else, is he?”
Adele shook her head. “Apparently not. We...we spent yesterday together. Went skiing. Had dinner.” She paused. “At my place.”
Harper gave a shove with her feet so that her rolling chair came to a few inches of Adele’s knees. “Did he stay over?”
Adele laughed. “You sound far too excited about that prospect. No. But we had a very nice day. And some wine. And he...he kissed me.”
“Holy.” Harper put her hands on the arms of Adele’s chair. “So, are you starting something up again? Getting back together?”
Why was excitement rising up in her chest? Adele pushed it back, trying to be rational. “No, don’t be silly. We got caught up in a moment, that’s all. I mean...” She searched for rational thought. “He’s leaving at the end of the week. He lives in Toronto and my business is here. This is just...closure.”
“Kissing doesn’t seem like closure to me.”
“It is, though. It has to be. It’s just...working through old feelings we didn’t get a chance to work through before.”
“If you say so.” Harper swiveled and pointed to the picture on the screen. “This does not look like a man who has left the past behind.”
But he had to. They didn’t have a future. Too much had happened. And nothing had really changed. She couldn’t wave a magic wand and be able to bear children. And adoption...not everyone wanted to go that route. It also wasn’t as easy as deciding to do it and poof, a baby showed up.
The one thing that kept getting her stuck was that the facts didn’t reconcile with her feelings. Tears pricked her eyes and she was mortified.
“Oh, honey.” Harper touched her hand. “Do you still love him?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice a soft wail. “Oh, Harper. I’m so stupid. I can’t still love him. Seriously, I think it’s just dealing with things that should have been dealt with years ago.”
“Except...”
“Except it doesn’t feel like that. Yesterday, when we were together...it felt so right. So familiar. I don’t want to fall into the familiar trap or the get it right the next time trap. And it would be so easy. He’s so...”
“He’s so what?”
She didn’t answer out loud, but in her head she heard the word. Everything.
Harper sighed. “Drink your tea. You want to come to my place for dinner tonight? Get some perspective? I’m making chickpea curry.”
Normally Adele would grab at the chance. Harper was a beautiful cook, and Adele had learned to eat a lot of vegetarian food in her kitchen. Curry was one of Harper’s specialties. “Not tonight. I need to do some thinking.”
“All right. And, Adele, thanks for sharing that with me. I feel privileged.”
“You’re the best friend I have. I trust you.”
“I trust you, too. Now, do you want to see the rest of the wedding pictures?”
“I’d love to.” Adele leaned forward and cradled her now lukewarm tea, feeling more at peace than she had in a long time.
Maybe it was time she started trusting people again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
DAN STARED AT the ceiling in his hotel room. He only had three days left in Banff and then he was supposed to be in Calgary. Yesterday—Thursday—was the only day he hadn’t seen Adele other than the Monday following the wedding, when she’d still been sick. He’d thought he needed space after that kiss. Instead he’d spent the whole day preoccupied, despite taking a trip up the gondola and then a soak in the hot springs to ease his ski legs. It had been incredibly lonely, doing those things by himself.
Which was odd. Whenever he traveled for work, he enjoyed taking in some of the sights of his destination. Seeing Delly again had changed everything.
And thinking about it, like he was doing now, was solving nothing.
It had been a shock, hearing that she couldn’t have children, and now that it had all sunk in, he kept asking himself if it would have made a difference back then. He knew without a doubt that he would have stood by her, but she wasn’t wrong when she said he’d always wanted a family of his own.
He still did. But h
e also thought that if given the choice, he wouldn’t forsake a woman he loved just because she couldn’t bear children through no fault of her own.
His aunt had had breast cancer and a double mastectomy. He remembered her saying once to his mother that she felt like less of a woman right after the surgery. He wondered if Adele had felt that way, too. But when he looked at her, he didn’t see someone with parts missing, or anything “less than.” Instead he saw a strong, brave woman. A survivor.
He just hoped she saw herself the same way.
When he’d had enough of pondering while staring at the ceiling, he rolled out of bed and padded over to the TV stand, where he’d left his phone to charge. He unplugged it and pressed the button. His email notification icon was up on the top left, as well as a little envelope. A text message.
He ignored the email and hit the text.
Morning. Feel like doing something today?
His heart took a leap. They couldn’t start something back up again. It would be foolish. But he wanted to see her.
He typed back.
What do you have in mind?
Her answer came soon.
Dogsledding in Canmore.
It was not what he’d expected.
I’ve never done that before.
Then you’re in for a treat. Pick you up at one.
He had four hours to kill before she arrived, so he had a shower, ordered up some breakfast, and scrolled through his email and newsfeed. He also answered a few questions from the Calgary office he was looking forward to visiting on Monday.
With offices now in Edmonton and Calgary, and a proposed one in British Columbia, the regional business was growing and it was exciting to see. As much as he’d worked hard to climb the corporate ladder in Toronto, what really got him excited was expansion. The world was changing, and business had to change with it. He was more than just the numbers guy.
He found Adele in the lobby, waiting for him just before one o’clock, and he saw her before she had a chance to see him. She was speaking to one of the doormen, and he took a moment to stare. She was dressed for the weather—leggings with warm boots, her puffy jacket, and a band that went around her head and covered her ears, while still allowing her hair to flow down over her collar. Pink seemed to be her color, as her headband and scarf were a pastel shade, like the blooms on his mother’s rose bush when they were wide open. He had really missed her over the years, more than he realized. Oh, at first it had been horrible. His heart had been thoroughly broken, and there was no sense denying it. But seeing her now made him wonder if this was what had been missing from his life all along.
And that was a dangerous thought. Wasn’t this going down a road that led nowhere?
She turned around and saw him there and a smile bloomed across her face. He smiled in return and knew he was in deep, deep trouble.
And yet, even knowing it didn’t stop him from dropping a light kiss on her lips as he joined her.
“Hi,” he said softly, smiling down at her. The fact that her eyes were slightly dazed after the simple kiss didn’t escape him.
“Hi yourself. That was...unexpected.”
“For me, too,” he admitted. “It just felt...right.”
Her cheeks colored and she turned away. “Come on. We’re on for one thirty.”
“Are we cutting it close?” He fell into step beside her as she started toward the front door.
“We’ve got time. They’ll walk us through stuff for a half hour first, then an hour on the trail, and then snacks and stuff after. I wasn’t sure you’d want a longer ride today.”
“No, that sounds perfect.” They’d be done by three thirty, back in Banff at four and have the rest of the day to...well, do something. If they wanted.
She turned into a lane marked with a sign for Three Sisters Dogsledding. It ran for nearly a kilometer, bordered by fragrant evergreens until it ended near a large house at one side and then a long building that housed the equipment and kennel facilities. They could hear the barking before they even got out of the car, and Adele flashed him a happy grin. “This is cool,” he remarked, grinning back. “I’ve never done this before.”
“I have. Once,” she revealed, turning off the car. “We did a wedding nearby last year. It was probably the most unusual ceremony I’ve ever planned. All the guests were taken by sled to the location, and the bride and groom came last. It made for fantastic photos. Cold, but fantastic.”
She got out of the car and reached in the back for the rest of her winter gear. “I booked us with a driver,” she called as he got out of the car. “I’ve driven before, briefly, but I thought this would be more relaxing.”
He looked over toward a nearby sled. It had a cover that zipped up, so the passengers would be cozy inside. The idea of her being snuggled up so closely to him made his blood heat.
“Adele! So good to see you again!” A man, probably in his midthirties, strode toward them, dressed in a heavy jacket and a hat with a huge tassel on the end.
“Hey, Jerry. You too.” She reached out and shook his hand. “This is my friend Dan. He’s never done this before, so it’s gonna be fun. Dan, Jerry was my go-to for everything to do with the wedding last year.”
Dan took a moment or two to size up this Jerry guy. He wasn’t exactly jealous, but he was aware of the casual familiarity between Jerry and Adele, as well as the smile on the other man’s face. He was big, and not a bad-looking sort. Not that Dan had any claim to Adele at all. But still.
“Welcome, Dan. It’s a beautiful day, so you’re in for a treat. It’s a ten-kilometer ride today, over the pond and with beautiful views. Did you bring a camera?”
“I did, though it’s just a point and shoot.”
“Hard to take a bad one,” Jerry said easily. “Come on in, and we’ll do the orientation.”
Over the next thirty minutes, he learned about the dogs and the basics of sledding, but he only listened with half an ear. The other half was tuned to Delly, the way she smiled and how she laughed when she got licked in the face by one of the dogs. She looked over at him, one hand on the heavy gray fur, and he knew he was in dangerous territory. It would be so easy to fall for her again. And yet a mistake, too. It wasn’t even so much that she couldn’t have children. It was more that she hadn’t trusted him with it. That she’d lied. And even knowing the reason—even understanding—didn’t change the feeling that he couldn’t trust her, either.
And that was no way to build a relationship. Or rebuild, as the case may be. Even if he wanted to.
“You’re looking awfully serious,” Delly said, coming to his side. “You okay?”
“Just thinking,” he answered, chasing away the thoughts. “Do you think we’ll be warm enough?”
She nodded. “We’ll be snug as a bug. You’ll see.”
Jerry waved them out to where their sled awaited. Adele got in and Dan sat in behind her, his legs on either side of hers, like they’d be if they were on a toboggan. Jerry handed them a wool blanket, and then zipped the sled bag around them, covering their legs and middles, and protecting them from wind. The dogs were harnessed, barking and prancing excitedly, ready to go. As Jerry stood on the runners at the back and gripped the handle, Delly turned her head to look at Dan. Her eyes sparkled in the winter sun, her smile radiant. “You ready?”
“So ready,” he said, and felt himself slide a little further into...well, surely not love, but something deeper than a simple reconciliation. Not closure, but...a new beginning somehow. Despite all his best warnings, something was happening here that he was helpless to stop.
They took off, the sled skimming over the snow, moving faster and faster as they left the yard behind and moved out onto the open trail. Delly laughed, the feeling rumbling against his chest, even through their heavy coats. He smiled, wrapping his arms around her, not caring about holding himself back from her right
now. He liked being with her. He liked her laugh and her smile and the sound of her voice, the way she felt in his arms and the vanilla scent of her hair from beneath her headband.
Different than he remembered, but somehow the same, too.
The scenery was stunning as they skimmed over the snow, past trees and bushes and out into an open space, a frozen pond that opened up to the most stunning vista he’d ever seen. Jagged gray peaks topped with pristine snow, naked above the tree line, and in sharp relief to the piercing blue sky. The wind buffeted his cheeks, stinging a bit, but he didn’t mind. It was a weird and neat feeling, being so low to the ground, rushing over the snow with a near-weightless sensation.
Delly’s arms came over top of his, holding him close against her, and for a moment he dropped his forehead to the back of her head. This was a near-perfect moment, and he let it soak in.
After nearly half an hour, they stopped and got out to stretch their legs and give the dogs a quick break. As Delly stopped and scratched the belly of one, he knelt beside her and rubbed the dog’s head. The dog, loving the attention, wriggled around on his back with pleasure.
“You like dogs,” he observed.
“Of course I do. But I’m gone so much for work that I can’t see having one. Unless I hired a dog walker. Some days, though, I leave the house at seven and don’t get home until midnight. Particularly wedding days. It’s just not fair.”
“So you have Mr. Num-Nums.”
She scratched behind the dog’s ears. “I do. And he’s the best.”
He laughed and then decided to get out his camera. He took several shots of the surrounding Rockies, a bunch of the dogs and even Jerry. Then there were snaps of Delly—patting the dogs, making a snow angel, looking back over her shoulder at him.
She was so easy to love. Like she had been back before her diagnosis. Open and artless. It was why he’d thought she’d found someone else. She’d stopped sharing. Now he knew why.
