There wasn’t even a ring, only a white ribbon.
I closed my fingers around the ribbon. “Yes, Van, I’ll marry you.”
Julia
Van’s intense green gaze penetrated my thoughts, his spicy cologne tingled my senses, and his proximity sent energy through my circulation. I was on sensory overload as I stared down at the white ribbon, closed it within my fist, and closed my eyes. I turned toward the coolness of the window as the magnitude of the answer I’d given to Van settled within me much as a weight dragging me beneath the ice and into the depths of Lake Superior.
I’d only days earlier freed myself from a marriage commitment.
Despite Van’s presence, thoughts of Skylar and all that we’d planned ran circles in my mind, clouding my ability to think rationally. Beginning with our childhood, the memories of Skylar and me fast-forwarded to a few days ago. Never had our future been in question. Until it was.
Do I love him?
I thought I had, but never ever was Iin lovewith Skylar. That revelation gave me strength to move forward.
Have I ever been in love?
Maybe Beth was. Maybe she was in love with Skylar and he with her. That thought brought on an epiphany—I didn’t care. I didn’t care if Skylar loved Beth or vice versa. Maybe I was simply numb. The anger and hurt that I felt reading Beth’s text message had faded into the blinding snowstorm. The greatest emotion I felt to thoughts related to the end of my engagement was relief.
Van was near. I felt the warmth of him on my back. Without touching me, he sent energy from him to me. I spun in place, my sight coming to his wide chest. Looking up, I swallowed and spoke, “I’ve spent my life following other people’s plans.”
“Are you rescinding your answer?”
I nodded. “I am. This is too fast. I don’t know what I was thinking. Perhaps I wasn’t. I need time to be me.”
His large hands came to my shoulders. Though I felt his power, his touch was gentle and reassuring. His tone and tenor ricocheted through my body. “You can be you, Julia. From the small glimpse you gave me the other night, I can’t imagine wanting you to be anyone else.”
I smiled a sad smile as I tried to explain. “What you saw the other night” —I shrugged in his grasp— “I don’t know if that was me or who that was. Being with you in the privacy of our snow globe let me be...someone I’ve never been. That’s the thing, Van. I don’t know for sure who I am. That’s why I came up here to Ashland. I envisioned the person who listed the job to be an old man with war stories he wanted compiled.”
Van smiled. “I’m not that old.”
That made me smile too. “Considering that I envisioned gray hair, wrinkles, and a frail stature, you, Mr. Sherman, are about as far from what I imagined as I could get.”
“Are you disappointed?”
I shook my head. “Not in the least. The thing is, I thought that by coming here I would get time to evaluate my life and my decisions as I listened to the old war stories and wrote.”
I turned back to the window, captivated by the sun’s sparkles on the blanket of white snow.
Somehow this man, who I barely knew, understood more about my recent feelings and actions than anyone. I spoke without looking at Van. “I know that some people will think that my walking away from my commitment to Skylar is impulsive—it wasn’t. Problems within my relationship with him had been building since the moment I’d accepted his proposal or even before.”
Van stayed near, not speaking as my thoughts ran around my mind.
My discontent with Skylar grew similar to unattended brush fires, burning until they combined and created a massive blaze. Perhaps the grand-production proposal created the first spark. I didn’t complain about Skylar’s lack of sincerity, accepting the show for what it was.
More sparks added to the flames.
When Skylar and I tried to get close, the lack of attraction in his touch ate at me, making me wonder if our intimate life would change once I said I do and had the wedding ring upon my finger. I never mentioned it.
More flames ignited.
With each question that I asked myself, the fire of destruction threatened our forever. Beth’s pregnancy didn’t create the whole of the dissolution of Skylar and me. Her announcement was simply the final injection of fuel.
I met Van’s stare. “Walking away from Skylar wasn’t impulsive. Accepting your proposal was. It was wrong and impulsive.”
“It was impulsive. Asking was impulsive,” Van admitted, his deep voice filling me with warmth much like our time in the cabin. “It wasn’t wrong. I’ve never proposed before. I’ve never had a grand plan of marrying to gain power.”
“Is that what you’d gain by marrying me?”