But the sense of relief was overwhelming. The place was idyllic. Like her own private corner of the forest. Lights shone from the tree house, lending a warm glow to the wood. A large Christmas tree was visible through one of the windows and snow had settled on the railing around the deck.
Her tension levels, permanently stuck in the red zone for months, finally eased. That tiny adjustment to her equilibrium gave her hope. If she couldn’t relax and unwind here in this enchanting, almost otherworldly place, she wouldn’t be able to unwind anywhere. It felt a million miles from the crowded streets of London and her small cramped house. A million miles from her real life.
Jordan gestured to a winding path, illuminated by lights strung through the trees. “We have to walk from here. There’s a bridge over the creek and it can be icy. You’ll need to be careful.”
Deep snow smothered the contours of the surroundings. Katie decided that the world seemed a better place when it was covered in snow. Softer. Fewer hard edges.
“I’ll be fine.” She saw her sister appear in the window and waved.
Was Rosie mad with her because she’d asked if they could share for the first few nights? She’d used Christmas as the excuse—Christmas is our time together—but the truth was that she wanted time alone with her sister so she could try to understand what had triggered this wildly impulsive decision. And if Rosie and Dan really were getting married (heaven help all of them), a few nights apart wouldn’t kill them, would it?
Having reasoned her guilt back into submission, she stepped out of the car and felt the cold seep through her clothing. She’d always hated winter, but now she realized that what she hated was winter in London and those long dreary days that cloaked everyone in gloom. Rain that soaked through shoes and turned a girl from dressed up to drowned rat. This was different. Here, the air was dry and crisp, and above her a million stars studded the clear night sky. This was winter as she’d always imagined it should be. Not dark, damp and dispiriting, but light and bright and crisp.
She breathed in, savoring the delicious smells. A hint of wood smoke. Fir trees. It made her think of those Christmases when she was young, when she and her mother had taken Rosie to choose a tree. They’d argued about the size and then trudged home with it and dressed its lush, spiky branches with decorations stored from year to year in a special box. Her mother had treasured each one. There was a star Katie had made in school the year Rosie was born. A wonky angel Rosie had made in the hospital the Christmas she’d had a bad asthma attack. Then there were the weird and wonderful decorations her father brought home from his travels. A jeweled camel that sparkled under the lights, handblown glass ornaments picked up from a bazaar in Cairo.
There would be no star this year. No tree dressed with memories.
Katie blinked. It wasn’t like her to get emotional. Any minute now she’d be crying on his shoulder. She could imagine what he’d make of that. “Thanks for the ride, Jordan.”
“Are you going to forgive me for teasing you?”
“Maybe next century.”
“Good to know you have a sense of humor.” He retrieved her suitcase. “I’ll carry this up for you.”
“I’ve already proved I can carry my own suitcase, and given that I don’t have to climb a rope with it,” she sent him a look designed to wither, “I can manage.” Truthfully she wasn’t looking forward to carrying the case because she was still nurturing her bad shoulder, but she had another perfectly good free hand and she’d rather dislocate both shoulders than ask for help from him.
“The bridge might be icy. They clear it every day, but sometimes it’s—”
“Don’t tell me. There’s a troll in the water that might leap out and eat me. I’ll handle it.” A flood of light illuminated her surroundings and she glanced up and saw Rosie framed by the doorway. Her sister was wearing a warm cable-knit sweater, a pair of skinny jeans and thick socks. Katie felt a rush of love so powerful it took her breath away. Whenever she saw Rosie after a stretch of time, she remembered her as a toddler. Affectionate. Trusting. “Thanks, Jordan. See you at the wedding.”
She wasn’t sorry to leave him behind. She’d felt a wider range of emotion