Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

Calvin

I 'm not sure how I did it but I convinced Caroline to take a stroll with me down Main Street. She's a good sport given the frigid weather. When I suggested a sweat-breaking exercise, she jumped right on board. Maybe because that burger had the calorie content of three ice creams sundaes and a bucket of lard.

I'm excited to show her my hometown and not from the inside of my SUV. I hurry to the car and hand her a pair of wool gloves and a scarf to match the hat she's already wearing. They are dreadful, I admit, but they're the warmest things I own. She eyes the offering and with teeth chattering, dons them.

We keep pace, heart-pumping until I slow down, taking hold of Caroline's arm. There's a patch of ice in our path and I navigate us around it.

"Thanks," she says.

She doesn't pull away from my grasp though we're now on salted, secure pavement. We continue arm-in-arm as I point out Barker's Cleaners, The Doughnut Hole Café, and Vintage Vermont, a second-hand store that's been there forever.

We fall into a comfortable silence, each of us lost in our thoughts. I can see the roof of my high school on the parallel street. If we had more time I'd take Caroline inside and show her the basketball gym where I scored the game-winning points that led to the trophy I'm sure remains behind glass in the long school corridor. I would also show her the lab where I first fell in love with medicine.

So much of Sugarbush Falls looks the same but I've changed. I'm a big city guy now, a soon-to-be Dad. It's an odd feeling.

A mail truck goes by, the driver offering a friendly wave which we return. It occurs to me I've never even seen my New York mail carrier, let alone exchange pleasantries.

We pass the town library and I picture the biography section where I experienced my first kiss. Behind the racks where no one but the occasional librarian ventured. I was fourteen. Thanks to Aunt Pearl's updates, I know Jenny has two grandkids now. Our lives have gone in very different directions since our childhood lip lock.

We arrive at a small, well-maintained park with benches and a tiered fountain, shut off for the season. Holiday music pipes out of speakers hidden in the landscaping. We step into the gazebo, the town's oldest and most beloved landmark. The blue spruce beyond it is a far cry from the one in Rockefeller Center but it's lovely, decked in colorful ornaments and topped with a large silver star.

I turn to Caroline who has been quiet since our walk began. Probably too cold to speak. She's looking around like an astronaut on Mars. She slips her gloved hand in mine.

We stand here, under the gazebo, admiring the tranquil, picturesque scene. It's incredibly tempting to stay right where I am, holding Caroline's hand on Main Street in my hometown.

But duty calls. I have to get on the road. It's a long drive to Manhattan. "Ready to head back?"

Caroline nods. "Calvin?"

"Hmm?"

"This town, it's perfect," Caroline says, her breath frosty.

For reasons I can't explain, I'm overjoyed that she likes it here.

"Yeah," I say, feeling more sentimental than ever. "I know."

As we step from the gazebo, the familiar notes of Chestnuts roasting on an open fire fill the air, surrounding us. Caroline eyes light up with wonder. A single snowflake lands on her cheek.

The magic of the moment is too much to withstand. Before my mind can catch up with my body, I twirl her toward me, drawing her closer. I'm powerless to stop what is coming.

I lean down and bring my lips to hers.