Across the lake, a wind stirred the tops of the pines, their gentle dance a testament to their resilience.
“You know, you’re never going to fix what’s wrong between you with a little bedroom time. It kind of sounds like there’s more going on with Bob.”
Her sister’s words poked at a sensitive spot in her heart. Marilyn kicked at a clod of snow. It broke into several satisfying pieces. “What do you mean?”
“Think about some of the things he said. He usually is so in tune with you—you guys are practically a hive mind sometimes. Remember that time we played Catch Phrase and he would shout out the answer before you even finished giving him the clue? You guys wiped the floor with us that day. For him not to see how he hurt you is out of character.”
Yeah, she had to admit it was. “So you think I’m in the wrong.”
“I’m not saying he’s totally off the hook, but I do think you owe him an apology for being so angry. You caught him off guard.”
Huh. “Maybe you’re right. Of course you’re right. It was my pride that was hurt, nothing else.”
“Your big sis is always right.”
From behind her, a thump-bump sounded in the cabin. “I think Bob is up. Time to go face the music.”
“Go get ’em, tiger. Love ya, Mars.”
“Love you too.”
Inside the cabin, Bob stood at the counter pouring himself a cup of coffee, his gray sweatpants on again, one pant leg hitched up at the calf. His hair stuck up wildly around his head, and his face was grizzled with three days’ stubble. Her heart skipped a beat. After everything, even in his sweatpants he was handsome.
She thought about his other qualities—his kindness, concern for others, his desire to always do the right thing. The way he could make her laugh. Dear Lord, she loved this man.
Her harsh words from the night before poked at her.
He looked at her over the rim of his coffee cup. “You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d call Liz.” She raised her cell phone as though she needed to prove herself.
“Cold outside?”
“Not as bad as earlier in the week.” She moved a step closer to him. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
He turned and leaned against the countertop. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, really. I’m sorry we fought.”
He took a drink of his coffee. “It’s really no big deal.”
“My pride was hurt, and I lashed out.”
“I said I forgive you, and I do. I’m sorry too. It takes two to tango and all that.”
“Thank you. I forgive you too.” She reached around him and refilled her coffee cup. “Any idea where Stella is?”
He glanced around the small room as though Stella might magically appear. Bless his heart.
“Never mind.” She picked up her cell phone again to text Stella. “I know she’s a grown woman and can do what she wants, but I’d feel better knowing she’s safe.”
Sorry for the weirdness yesterday. Hope you’re doing okay.
The three little dots indicating a reply was coming appeared, disappeared, then appeared again. Finally a response from Stella.
No problem. You and Dad have a good day. I’ll be gone most of it.
Well, she was alive at least. That was something. A pang of regret shot through Marilyn. It was Christmas and she hadn’t spent much time with Stella. Even though they weren’t separated by an ocean like they had anticipated, the distance between them seemed to be growing. Marilyn would have to figure out how to patch up that relationship another time.
Meanwhile, she was grateful for the time alone with Bob.
In the few minutes of the texting exchange, Bob had moved to the table and was focused on his puzzle again. She went around behind him and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Looks like it’s just the two of us for the day. What do you want to do?” She lowered her voice an octave. “All alone. In this cozy cabin.” She gave his back a rub.
“I thought I’d finish this puzzle, then maybe start that Jack Ryan novel. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to just read for pleasure.”
Right. And she got that. “How about I make us a special lunch. We can eat it in front of the fire.”
Bob grunted a reply that she took to mean yes.
In the bedroom, she unzipped a pocket in her purse and pulled out a recipe for a red ginseng and chili pepper beef short rib stew she’d found online. She’d spent a long time trying to find a recipe to match the one they’d eaten several times at the only restaurant within fifty miles of their honeymoon cabin. From the same pocket she unearthed the small bottle of dried red ginseng she’d bought on Amazon. She hoped Stella had found the rest of the ingredients when she went shopping the other day.
The nostalgia of this dish would be so overwhelming Bob wouldn’t know what hit him.
All a man needed for happiness was a warm fire, good food, and an engaging jigsaw puzzle.
The coffee table in the cabin, pockmarked and rustic, was just big enough for a puzzle. Bob fitted another piece into the one lying in front of him. A tricky 1,000-piece work of art, the puzzle featured Van Gogh’s Café Terrace at Night. The subtle shading contrasted with vivid colors made for an exciting puzzle.
Bob had always been partial to Van Gogh’s work. Something about the whirling stars wheeling through Starry Night and the otherworldliness of his landscapes twanged Bob’s soul. He knew what it was like to look at the world through an impassioned lens.
The stew Marilyn was busy with smelled divine. She must have added something spicy, because his nose tickled with every sniff. He heard her open the oven and slide something in.
“Is there an ETA on lunch?” And yeah, he probably could have toned his voice down. He hadn’t realized it would come out so loud in the quiet of the cabin.
“Sorry,” Marilyn said. “It needs to cook in the oven for another few minutes for the flavors to meld. I told you it would be a while.”
“It’s not a problem. I didn’t mean to snap.” He found another yellow piece and added it to the window he was working on. “Did I see you using a Dutch oven? Lucky they had one here. I wouldn’t have thought a cabin like this would stock something like that.”
Marilyn turned on the water in the sink and scrubbed at something. He couldn’t hear her reply.
“What was that?”
“I said, I brought my own.” Marilyn used the back of her hand to wipe a hair off her face. She shot him a sheepish glance, which held a note of…something. Almost…shyness?
He couldn’t help the wry smile turning up his mouth. “You brought your own?” The woman was a marvel.
She gave a small shrug, turned back to the sink. “I had a recipe I really wanted to try, and I couldn’t risk that they wouldn’t have the right pans here.”
Her words from last night about the Wilsons pinged inside him. Did she really think that he would be like Jeff Wilson and completely abandon his marriage and ministry?
Except, if he were honest, that was exactly what seemed to be stirring in his soul. And frankly, it was time to talk to her about it. But he didn’t want to spoil the peace that had grown between them.