As I sat at the kitchen table, sipping my coffee and nibbling on buttered toast, the quiet of the house wrapped itself around me like a blanket. I stared out of the frosted window at the mesmerizing dance of the snowflakes, their descent hypnotic. The world felt distant and hushed, as if time itself was observing a moment of silence.
Suddenly, I felt a pair of strong arms encircle me from behind. A warm body pressed against my back, and the scent of Jack’s aftershave wafted into my nostrils. I smiled to myself as he buried his face in the crook of my neck, his scruffy beard tickling my skin. Jack's voice was rough with sleep as he murmured his morning greeting into my ear.
“Good morning,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to my neck. Without breaking the embrace, he reached for a piece of toast, his fingers delicately brushing mine as he did. He took a bite, crumbs falling onto the table before he rested his chin on my shoulder.
“Oh,” he said, noticing the morning's unexpected snowfall. “I didn't think it would snow.”
“Neither did I. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
He hummed in agreement, his breath tickling my ear. “Almost as beautiful as you.”
I responded with a light laugh, a blush creeping up on my cheeks.
Jack released me from his grasp and moved to the kitchen window, his gaze drawn to the winter wonderland beyond. His silhouette against the soft light was captivating; the strong line of his jaw, the broad expanse of his shoulders, and the way his hand rested lightly on the frosted glass. He seemed to be lost in thought, a serene smile playing on his lips.
“We should make a snowman,” he said with enthusiasm.
“What?”
“A snowman. We haven't done that in years. Remember the first one we made? We must have been seven or eight.”
I laughed at the memory—one of those vivid, happy moments that had permanently etched itself onto my heart. Lewis had been barely five then, his eyes wide with excitement as he'd rolled the first snowball.
“Yes, I remember,” I said, the corners of my mouth pulling into a reminiscent smile. “Okay, let’s do it.”
We spent the next hour laughing and playing in the snow, our breath misting in the frosty air. The snow was perfect for packing, and soon a round snowman began to take shape. Jack rolled the base, his broad shoulders straining under the effort, while I crafted the head.
As I worked, carefully smoothing the snow until it was perfectly round, Jack smeared some on my face. Shocked, I turned to him, spluttering and laughing at his childish antics. In response, I scooped up a handful of snow and hurled it at him, hitting him squarely in the chest. His laugh filled the air, the sound echoing off the surrounding trees and adding to the magic of the moment.
When our hands were numb, we returned to the house and made love by the fire. As our bodies entwined and the glow of the flames flickered across our skin, the connection seemedto encompass our entire history. Each touch a memory, each breath a promise.
“Remember this moment,” Jack whispered into my ear.
I turned toward him, my eyes meeting his in the soft light. “I will,” I said, pressing myself closer to him. “For as long as I live.”
18
Present
“After all that time,you finally got what you wanted,” said Diane, bringing me back to the present.
“Yes. I felt like I was floating, suspended in a moment of absolute clarity and joy...like every piece of me had found its place, its purpose.”
We finished our soup and pushed the bowls to the center of the table.
“So, if you got what you wanted, what finally happened that made you leave Sims Chapel for good?”
I wanted to tell her it was a combination of things, that there wasn’t just one moment, one reason. But the truth was far simpler, far more painful. “My past finally caught up with me,” I said quietly, studying the last bite of grilled cheese on my plate.”That, and Ellie returned.”
“Ellie? But I thought she was out of the picture.”
“Oh, she was,” I said, recalling the days when it was just me and Jack. “But then something terrible and unexpected happened, and just like that, she was back for good.”
Sims Chapel, TN
May 1962
“She’s dead.” The words came as a whisper, almost too soft to hear. Jack shut the door behind him, his expression a grim mask of disbelief. “Clara’s dead.”