Chapter 39

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Calvin

H ey, come look!" I say, knocking on Caroline's door. I'm trying to keep my tone upbeat and causal. I'm terrified she will have the same post-kiss reaction as before. Namely, pushing me away.

She opens the bedroom door in her pajama top, hair unbrushed, and sexy as all heck.

"What time is it?" she asks, rubbing her eyes.

"Ten-fifteen."

"What?"

I show her my phone and she blinks rapidly in disbelief. "I never sleep this late."

"It's the magic of Vermont air. Have you looked outside yet?"

She shakes her head.

I walk past her and note the unmade bed. My bed. I'm using the guest room. Sadly.

Caroline approaches the window. "Wow!"

The ground is cloaked in a thick, untouched layer of snow that sparkles like a field of diamonds under the pale winter sun. The sky is a deep blue, the color of Aunt Pearl's spring cornflowers. Footprints from yesterday have vanished, leaving the world freshly frosted and pristine. Snow-draped trees stand tall and still, their branches heavy with a fresh dusting. Across the road, a lone deer cautiously steps through the drifts, its breath visible in the crisp air. It's a winter wonderland.

"It's beautiful," she says, a look of awe on her face. For some reason, I'm proud. Proud of my hometown for offering this gift to my friend.

We stand in reverential silence until I break it.

"Must be close to two feet with drifts double that."

She stays quiet, worrying me. I go to the closet and rummage through, finding ski pants and gloves, a pair of thick socks, and my old ski jacket. "Here," I say, handing them to her. "Put these on."

She lifts a brow. I can't tell if it's disdain for the old attire. At least I pulled her from her thoughts.

"Um, I have clothes."

"You'll need these for what we're doing. Trust me."

She grins, making my heart leap. "And what exactly are we doing?" she asks.

"Remember our Scrabble wager?"

"Which no one won."

I nod. "Which means we both have a job to do. I'm feeling generous so I'll forgo the underwear angels. Get dressed. See you downstairs in five."

"Five?" she touches her hair subconsciously then nods. "I can do five."

I'm impressed. She's going with the flow. I leave her to it, not bothering to hide the skip in my step.

Ten minutes later, we are outside on what was once my lawn. It's now a trail for cross-country skiing. Each step leaves a crisp imprint, the soft crunch echoing in the serene stillness. Caroline stops to catch snowflakes, drifting from the evergreens, onto her tongue.

Side by side, we lie on our backs, the sensation strange and delightful as we wave our arms like eagles in flight, both of us laughing like toddlers.

I stand carefully, then help Caroline to her feet. The angels are perfection, the wings wide and deep.

I dig into my coat and pull out my phone. "Smile," I say, taking a selfie of the two of us with our snow angels in the background. Rather than smile, we both make silly faces.

I put the phone away and see my boot has come untied. I bend down to fix it.

"Send me the photo, please." she says.

"Will do."

I stand back up and am instantly met with a snowball in my face.

"Oomph!"

I'm startled and spit out a mouthful of slush. I spot Caroline hiding behind my snow-laden blueberry bush, furiously rearming.

"You have no idea what you just started!" I shout, "I'm the snowball king!"

"Get ready to be dethroned, Doctor Sinclair!" she retorts, pitching two more fast balls at me. One makes contact with the edge of my coat.

I trudge behind a pine tree and get to work, dodging incoming projectiles, most of which miss me. As soon as I'm ready, I race to the side of the house. I crouch behind the bush and with a snowball in each hand, I take aim at the branch above Caroline's head, heavy with inches of snow. Her head pops up and I throw the snowballs, her brow raised in surprise. She glances upward. "No!"

A pile of snow falls on Caroline's head, leaving only her nose visible. She shakes like a dog in the rain and for a moment I'm scared I went too far.

She brushes herself off, flakes steadfastly sticking to every inch of her body. And then she laughs.

Body-quaking guffaws. She's bent over in hysterics.

It's contagious and I too am caught up in the throes of laughter. I come to her, trying to catch my breath. "You look like Frosty the Snowman," I manage to say.

She points to my own frozen nose, tears running down her face. "You're Rudolph's twin."

Once our laughing attack dies down, Caroline leans over and begins rolling a ball.

I scoot away.

"Don't worry," she says. "I concede. Your throne remains intact. But it's been years since I've built a snowman."

Probably more than forty years. But saying so aloud will only earn me another ball in the face.

Instead, I help her, taking the job seriously. Thirty minutes later, we are assessing our masterpiece. I remove my scarf and put it around the snowman's neck while Caroline finds a sturdy twig for the nose. She tilts her head, studying our work. "He needs a hat . . . and eyes."

I trudge inside, grabbing something from the kitchen and then find an old fedora in the front closet—one my father forgot and left behind years ago. I'm pretty sure he'd be happy with how it's being used.

I set the hat atop the snowman's head, pull two chocolate kisses from my pocket and use them for the eyes. When I'm done, I put my arm around Caroline.

"I'm glad you spun out on the highway," she says, a smirk on her face.

"Me too."

I wouldn't be here, otherwise, enjoying one of the happiest moments of my adult life.

Along with finding Chacha.

I should tell Caroline about him but something is holding me back. Maybe the fear that she'll think I'm off my rocker, adopting a child from Tanzania, becoming a father at my age.

One thing I'm sure of, though. I want more of Caroline in my life. A lot more.

Chacha will be here soon and I should give her a heads-up. I'm just not in a hurry to do so. Things are perfect now. I can't recall the last time I felt this at peace. Why rock the boat?